#how many times can i draw (1) guy at a 3/4 head degree turn

[jemtokall]

I wanted to draw him with a soft expression

[ay-miphae]

Hey guys I did it

i did the art challenge called astronomber where i drew the astronomer (hansi kürsch) every day for a month

here are the highlights complete with WAY too many headcanons and worldbuilding snippets. anyway I wonder if there's any similar challenges for OCs because wow drawing the same character every day for a month even if it's kind of low effort does kind of force you to develop the character

also!! I do not recommend using OneNote to draw many things at once!! why do I even use OneNote to draw when CSP is right there!!

Day 1

Feat. me trying to get better at drawing faces and Cap and Astro meeting for the first time. Kind of. An eccentric and overambitious teenager (Cap) finds the first Smart Space Person he can find, namely the guy who graduated top of his class with a degree in astrophysics (Astro). Cap gives him his entire Starblade sales pitch. Astro is overstimulated and wants to go home.

Day 2

Sorry guys it just happens to be pride month too ik I literally just posted something similar. HOW NOT TO KILL THE PLANET.PDF and the implication that it was actually 3:27 AM when I drew this make this funny to me

Days 4 and 5

Preliminary character designs really. That's it Unfortunately I have developed a toxic trait called being extremely specific with my Astro headcanons. He's 37 years old by the events of the Source (ik I de-aged him, something something the downfall of the Starbladers was too much youthful energy and not enough foresight, something something not too large of an age gap with Cap) so this involved me watching Imaginations Through The Looking Glass (2004) for reference a lot (And Then There Was Silence live oh my GOD)

Day 8

Redraw of... a self-insert AU from a year ago. Here he is in The Day That The World Breaks Down

Day 10

Thanks Maë

Day 11

OMG it's BLORBO BLEEBUS. Thanks Stormy

Day 13

Gotta run apocalypse run my way outta this place Not pictured is an objectively horrible doodle of Astro saying "I hate the French," thanks enbymetalhead (we love French people here, no French people were harmed in the making of this post)

Day 14

Hi this one comes with Headcanons. Captain (Altair) has two older siblings named Vega and Deneb because I love astronomical symbolism. Cap and his sibs are basically the nepo babies of a giant aerospace monopoly so while his sibs are off being unpleasant and conniving and figuring out how to get richer (while also screwing over the entire planet) Altair's got other plans and it gets him completely estranged from his entire fam. Anyway Vega and Astro (Estel) are the same age and were at one point academic rivals in elementary/middle school. At least only Vega saw it that way because Estel's head was in the clouds way too much to actually acknowledge a rivalrly brewing. He's just. Brilliant. Also. Unintentionally. Vega gets petty and skips ahead multiple years of school and graduates at age 15 (as do Deneb and Altair later on), never thinks about Estel again UNTIL it turns out this guy is actually brilliant and - gasp! - helping Altair with his wacko plans. Vega probably corners Estel extremely passive-aggressively at some point like "ohh so you finally got your PhD, you better rethink putting these Ideas into my little brother's head or else all of Sammet Industries will be against you :)" not like Vega cares about Altair at all really Oh and also a goofy Star of Sirrah Astro

Day 16 18

FLUFF AND ANGST AND FLUFF AND- "All I ever want is to be at your side" is because I was listening to Skalds and Shadows on loop and also I love @ Zarak's headcanon that Cap has freckles like stars in constellations

Day 17

Some sillies reading ASTROPHYSICS FOR NERDS ALPHAN EDITION and attending ALPHAN UNIVERSITY because the running gag of appending Alphan in front of everything gives me life honestly

Day 18 (again)

Oh my god this one is me projecting about getting into the physics program at my university help. Also Astro at various ages because the tired professor look is so real and I think Hansi had curly hair at one point why do I even know these things

Day 19

Bro in university. Bro zoning out and becoming one with the stars. I don't even know what's going on with the captions here

Day 20

this might exceed 30 images tbh I might need a new post Okay probably my most comprehensive outfit ref for Astro which probably says something about my lack of actual refs but. Kind of rotates through the same few sweater/button up combos with something of a light academia aesthetic. Everybody gets their own Starblade-issued uniforms (plot-wise this would probably be from Run Apocalypse Run onward) with the obligatory Source green overlay, very much a more modular sci-fi design. And also him as Forever 🕈 (I have that symbol to copy and paste on speed dial) Evolution into a Forever takes place over a long period of time, but certain effects, like immortality, happen immediately.

Day 24

More canon lyric stuff. Aquatic Race and Into The Ocean. Not even sure what I'm including and not including in this post but at one point I sketched Astro as the guy from the Beyond The Red Mirror cover because I'm very normal about BTRM. Speaking of things I'm normal part I'm also very normal about the part in The Last Candle Live where Hansi goes "guardian guardian guardian of the blind guardian guardian guardian of the blind GUARDIAN GUARDIAN GUARDIAN OF THE BLIND RAAAAAAAHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA" and laughs maniacally and whips aside the microphone stand extremely dramatically, so much so that I used it as a reference like three times and it looks kind of cool I guess

Day 25

HAHAH OKAY! Human Compulsion time plus. Headcanons.

Five years before the Source: Altair Sammet, arrested on multiple charges of fraud and treason. It's maybe the second or third time this has happened, surely he's got enough wealth to be bailed out another time and this is just another minor setback. Estel Kürsch knows otherwise. He's been keeping up with what the other Sammets really think, almost obsessively. They aren't coming for him this time. Altair is important though. Not just for Alpha's survival but... to him as well. Estel doesn't know what to do but, anxiety ridden and later deeply in dept, somehow pulls the right strings for Altair to avoid serious legal trouble. It's here that Estel realizes the lengths he would go to for this man, for the entire planet and human race and swears to love him forever. Altair realizes he can't do it all on his own. He breaks down a bit.

Millions, billions of years later. Altair is no longer his name. Forever [Eagle], if he even remembers that. A hollow shell of the radiant individual he once was. He is filled with so much disappointment and burnout and so much anger that's all given way to ... nothingness.

He won't stand the company of anybody, except a select few. Forever 🕈 is one of them. He seeks him out in the depths from time to time. A husk. But still alive.

Forevers have webbed fingers, and it's difficult to hold hands.

The burden of responsibility is on 🕈 again. He hates to have to be the spokesperson for a dying world again. But he was there, on Alpha, if only a distant memory. And on the behalf of Altair and his other friends of old who completely lost themselves, he must speak up.

"In a world of tomorrow dreams, our future lies"

(my handwriting is pretty illegible but that's the gist of it)

My draft deleted right here so everything from here on is a rewrite but fortunately it saved most of it ahah

Day 26

The science pals (Chemist and Biologist)! Look how whimsical they are when the world is on the brink of imminent disaster 🥰

Day 27

Because Stormy drew Cap wearing Astro's sweater and it's knee-length on him so we were wondering what if Astro stole Cap's clothes Also I gave Astro a sister! And then I take her away for character development reasons! Vanna (the Ever-Young, something something Tolkien + it was the first name I thought of), she dies for reasons that could have otherwise been avoided had Alpha not been so environmentally screwed or something, haven't thought of the details, something about Astro channeling his grief/trauma from that into intense escapism + idealism

Day 29

Was listening to 01011001 so here's this funky River of Time Theory as to why Astro adopts the Celtic cross as his Forever symbol: you know how Tobias Sammet wears a cross pendant a lot? Like it's on his character photo on the Source artbook and everything? I typically draw Captain wearing a compass instead because it fits better ig, but maybe Cap does have a similar pendant. I'm not sure what it would symbolize, Alphan cultures and symbols being different yet similar to Earth's and all. Anyway. Cap loses it several thousand (maybe millions?) years after their arrival on Y, this is around when he starts becoming an emotionless husk. Astro finds it, it invokes something in him, he swears to be the one to speak up on behalf of his friends' lost vitality. A motivation or reminder, maybe.

Day 30

Uhhh here's what he thinks about several others on the Starblade, again with my crappy handwriting so here we go: Captain: his husband, loves him for many different reasons Biologist: trusted colleague, he wishes he was more like her Prophet: does NOT understand how stars work. he SWEARS TO THE MIGRATOR if he hears someone talking about astrology AGAIN- Chemist: brilliant but he still keeps his walls up Historian: trusted mentor with seemingly infinite knowledge TH-1: forgot what I was planning to do with him in my headcanon LMAO so excuse to draw a tiny low-effort TH-1

...

Uhhhyeah that's what I've been up to last month, Arjen should give me a gold medal for this or something idk thanks for listening to my brainrot

i am making a new art challenge called astronomber where i draw the astronomer (hansi kürsch) every day for a month good morning and good night

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

I LOVE your meta on how essek was the perfect asset and want to ask the follow-up question in your tags: how do you think it went down? The agreement between Essek and the Assembly? And I think the fandom was convinced Essek would be disposed of after the peace talks — how do you see his future if there was no intervention by the Mighty Nein in 97?

ruvi-muffin asked:

What are your specific thoughts abt how ludinus recruited essek??👀👀 oh Person who knows a surprising amount of spy stuff 🙏🙏🙏👀👀👀

Anonymous asked:

PLEASE share your specific thoughts about how Essek was recruited, I'm so intrigued!

Anonymous asked:

Hello yes i am very interested in these very specific thoughts about how Essek got recruited? All these things about how actual intelligence works/uses their assets/how that ties to Essek and the M9 is really interesting :D

Thank you all so much for asking me the specific question I wanted someone to ask. I had to write and rewrite this post a half-dozen times because I kept going off on tangents about other Cold War spy stories so trust me there’s plenty more where this came from.

For reference, my original post on what made Essek an ideal recruitment target and why the M9 were the ideal counter to it.

First off, this is all based on real-world intelligence ops and is only as relevant to the campaign as Matt Mercer cares to make it. Having said that *slams notebook on table* BUCKLE UP, KIDDOS.

There are two ways Essek may have been recruited: he approached the Assembly or the Assembly approached him. I think the Assembly approached him. Not to be too hard on the guy, but Essek said it himself: he’s kind of a coward. I can’t see him mustering up the nerve to take that first step. Plus his espionage seems to have focused specifically on the beacons rather than dunamancy as a whole; that sounds like the Assembly to me. The beacons specifically offer the prospect of immortality and the Cerberus mages are arrogant enough to assume they can figure out dunamancy themselves if they have a beacon in hand. There’s no way the Assembly haven’t been trying to beg, borrow, or steal those beacons for centuries. Essek may not have even been their first try - just the first that worked. 

Chronologically, Essek would have popped up on either the Assembly or the Augen Trust’s radar quite early as I assume they keep tabs on all powerful Dynasty mages. As they followed his career, the Assembly would have ID’d Essek as a perfect target for recruitment as a spy, and then further for ego-based recruitment. Recruitment for espionage is a slow process - even slower in a fantasy world where some races reasonably expect to live 500+ years. Many intelligence agencies will do a sort of light meet-and-greet just to start a file on various people who might years later be of interest. The Assembly would have cultivated Essek as an intelligence asset with the same degree of time and care - and using some of the same methods - that Trent used to turn the Blumenthal trio into assassins. 

If they followed a modern playbook, they would have made contact with Essek anywhere from 2 to 10 years before the theft - nothing underhanded. A Cerberus mage approaches him at a negotiation or conference and strikes up a conversation. Then it’s increasing “chance” encounters to get Essek familiar with the handler, play the “we’re both mages, really we’re on the same side” angle to earn enough sympathy & trust to start talking regularly. Once the channel’s open, the handler and asset meet and/or talk routinely while the handler assesses the target’s motives, weaknesses, and the possibility that they’re a double agent. 

Espionage proper then starts with small favors, acts Essek can rationalize as victimless or even helpful to the Dynasty. In this stage the handler is getting the asset comfortable with engaging in espionage. They reward the asset for what feels like minimal moral trespass. For Essek that would have been praising his research, encouraging avenues of investigation they knew the Dynasty had shut down. Having meetings with Ludinus plays right into the ego trip - the Head of the Assembly himself is taking the time to meet with him! The Assembly gets how important this work is! That keeps Essek isolated from Dynasty members who might convince him to take a step back and builds loyalty to the Assembly over the Dynasty.

Once an asset settles in, espionage becomes easier. Routines get established. Moral hurdles have been overcome. Now the asks get bigger and the rewards get sparser. The handler will suggest larger acts just to get the asset thinking about them, since the more they consider “just hypothetically” how to pull it off, the more likely it is they’ll do it. This is where the idea of stealing the beacons would get introduced (though of course it’s been the goal all along.) I’ll bet the Assembly hinted at all the study that could be done if they could just get to the beacons in person, constantly bemoaning the lack of access. By now Essek sees the Assembly as colleagues in arcane pursuits, kindred minds, unlike the boring, stuffy old mages of the Dynasty. Of course he could outwit the Dynasty’s security and get the beacons to the Assembly - he’s a prodigy, a genius, everyone says so. And it’s not like he was stealing all of them. The consecuted would be fine. Everyone would be fine.

None of this is intended to absolve Essek of personal responsibility. But it provides a context for his actions, and for why he might regret them so much even though he apparently did them willingly. Asset handlers are very, very good at drawing someone willing to commit minor transgressions into far greater crimes. Look at how Trent shaped Caleb, Astrid, and Eadwulf. He didn’t order them to execute their own parents on day one. He spent years coaxing, tempting, and coercing them into darker and darker crimes, letting them rationalize their own actions at each step, preying on the same vulnerabilities as Essek: isolation (separating the three from other students, telling them their work was secret), ambition (the promise of great arcane power, of shaping the Empire’s destiny), and ego (”we were going to keep the empire safe,” telling them they were gifted, they were chosen).

So how do IRL spies rationalize their actions? Those who spy for reasons of conscience or ideology have done the rationalizing ahead of time, but everyone else has to get there somehow. Some who spy for revenge tell themselves it’s what their superiors deserve, while others tell themselves everyone’s doing it. Some just need a lie to get started (most commonly about who they’re spying for), while others have to keep up the charade all along. Let’s look at a few cases similar to Essek’s that demonstrate just how slippery the slope can be.

Aldrich Ames, a long-term CIA officer slash double agent for the KGB, got suckered in by thinking he could control the situation and wasn’t really hurting anyone. Ames had chronic financial trouble related to excessive drinking & his wife’s lavish lifestyle and in 1985 came up with a plan: he would essentially con the KGB by selling them a minor amount of classified info that he deemed “virtually worthless.” In April he set up the exchange and the KGB paid him $50,000, enough to satisfy his immediate debts. But after actually doing it Ames said he felt he’d now crossed a line he couldn’t step back from, and continued to sell information to the Soviets. By the time he was caught he had, by his own admission, compromised “virtually all Soviet agents of the CIA.”

While some assets just need a lie to get started, others require a delicate dance of self-delusion. Col. George Trofimoff was an Army officer who ran the center where would-be Soviet defectors were assessed & questioned. Trofimoff, a Russian émigré at a young age, was chronically in debt. In 1969 he renewed his acquaintance with his stepbrother back in Russia, now a bishop in the Russian Orthodox Church, and began to pass secrets in return for money - but he and his stepbrother never framed the transactions as such. Trofimoff described their meetings as, “very informal. ... First, it was just a conversation between the two of us. He would ask my opinion on this and that--then, he would maybe ask me, 'Well, what does your unit think about it?' Or, 'What does the American government think about it?’” His compensation was similarly informal: “I said I needed money. ... And he says, 'I tell you what, I'll loan it to you.' So he gave me, I think, 5,000 marks and then, it wasn't enough, because I needed more. ... Then he says, 'Well, you know, I'll tell you what. You don't owe me any money. And if you need some more, I can give you some more. Don't worry about it. You're going to have to have a few things, this and that.' And this is how it started.” Trofimoff could pretend to himself that he wasn’t really spying - just having a chat with his stepbrother - and wasn’t really getting paid for it - just borrowing a little money.

This got longer than I intended it to be and there’s still plenty to talk about, so I’ll save the rest for a second post. Next time: what happens long-term to espionage assets? And what happens if an asset regrets their actions and/or attempts to cut off contact with their handlers?

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

[airplanned]

Ned Talks About Fight Scenes

I write a lot of fight scenes, and I consider it something I'm good at.  There are a lot of things to consider when writing a fight scene and they all intersect with each other.  I'm going to talk about three things: Clarity, Emotion, and Flow. 

Clarity is important, because you don't want your reader to stop and say, "Wait, there's another guy?" "Since when did they have an axe?" "I thought they were on the ground?"  "When did they get inside?"  Anything that pulls the reader out of the story disrupts your flow and is bad.  You need things to clip along, so be sure that your choreography makes sense and that you're clear about what's going on.  

The biggest problem I see in fight scenes is when a transition is missed so a character is over here, and then all of a sudden they're over there or facing a different way.  I'm not saying that there needs to be a whole big thing made about the transition, because that will affect your flow and slow you down with excess description, making it feel bloated.  But saying, "He turned around," takes up minimal space and will sometimes save you a lot of grief.  

I think the easiest example to show of this is actually a make-out scene I read ages ago.  (Make-out scenes and fight scenes have a lot in common.) It went something like this: "He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed her shoulder.  She hopped up and wrapped her legs around his waist."  ...   The picture I have in my head is that he’s still behind her, but her legs are folded backward like a ballerina.  This would be easily preventable with a simple "She turned around and..."  

Now, this example is a very close example.  The characters are attentive to every little moment, so a jump into a different position is jarring.  A fight scene example would be if you have a one-on-one duel, and it's emotional and calculating, and your character is very attuned to every movement that their opponent makes.  It's a little different if you have a sweeping battle scene with a horde of hundreds of enemies, like if you're writing an Age of Calamity battle.  Your main character isn't thinking in minute steps, but rather in sweeping moves, so your reader is fine not hearing that your character has turned around, but wouldn't be fine not knowing that your character is suddenly bleeding from dozens of fatal wounds or is half way through a battle with a big monster that actually matters.  So be aware of the scope of your scene, and that will guide you in how detailed you need to be.  (Also keep in mind that you can zoom in, like you fight a big Age of Calamity battle, but then things get more personal when you meet the boss and fight them.)

I know that just saying "don't so this" is not super helpful.  First of all, sometimes something is so clear in your head that you don't even know that your reader isn't following you.  The main solution to that is a beta reader.  A second set of eyes can easily point out these moments.  You can also draw stick figures (it's fun!).  For each sentence, draw where they would be and make sure the change between them makes sense.  

Sometimes, you might have something very complicated in mind.  But if you cant describe it clearly, it's not worth it and it might be worth scaling back.  Killing your darlings happens.

Sometimes, the fight will be a huge mess and our hero will be flailing around, not knowing what's going on or which way is up or when it's going to be over.  But in that case, you can just say that.  Be clear about it.  And then tell us what your POV character does know.  If they're overwhelmed, tell us what they feel.  Adding in emotion can actually be clarifying in explaining to the reader why the character acts the way they do.

Which brings us to

Emotion.  It's important for a lot of reasons.  First of all, if you leave out the emotion completely and have it be straight action the whole time, then your hero looks as if it's no big thing.  This battle is simple and they are a killing machine.  Maybe that's what you want.  But if there's no tension for your character, there won't be any tension in your reader.  If you say that this scene is no sweat, I (the reader) will not be sweating.  But if your character is struggling, if they're fearing, if they're exhausted or hurt, I'm going to worry for them and you automatically have tension.

Second of all, I tend to write more character driven things, and what's the point of the fight scene if it doesn't have some effect on the character or show something about them?  What purpose does it serve in the story?  Maybe it's just to be cool, and that's okay, but don't expect more from it if that's the case.

The other cool thing about including emotion is that if you have a paragraph in the middle of a fight scene where the character is thinking about how hard the fight is or worrying about protecting someone or excited to finally be using a sword again after a long hiatus, then your reader will assume that time is passing while they're thinking, and then when you pull out of that paragraph and back int the action, your character can be in a new place, fighting a new monster.  It's one way to avoid that jarring lack of transition that we talked about earlier.

So returning regularly to your POV character in a fight scene is a good idea.  I tend to do one pass where I just write the choreography (unless some big, climactic emotional moment is the whole point of the scene/story, in which case I'll write that first), then I'll do a second pass inserting some interiority. 

Flow deals with how the scene reads.  You want it to read fast (action packed!) because your character will be thinking fast and things will be moving fast and you want your reader's heart to be beating fast.

You can achieve a lot of this on a micro level with just word and punctuation choices.  1. Commas: a comma is a way to show a pause for breath, so in some cases, misusing commas and using a run-on sentences is your friend.  Lists are also your friend, because you can have this happening and that happening and something else over there and they felt dizzy and tired and yet the list goes on.  

2. Longer sentences tend to pul you forward through the sentence whereas short, choppy sentences have a lot of periods, which are hard pauses.  

3. To Be Verbs slow you down.  A "to be" verb is any conjugation of "to be": was, is, were, are, be, am.  You might have heard this in high school English class and rolled your eyes, and I have strong feelings about how this is not a hard and fast rule that should be used in all situations.  However, to be verbs DO slow you down, and that's not what you want here.  So let's use a test sentence like, "He was running towards the moblin."  The thing about this is that "run" isn't the verb.  "Was" is the verb.  What was he doing?  He was existing.  Which is more exciting: existing or running?  Change this to "He ran towards the moblin," and already that reads faster.  

4. Over-specificity will slow you down too.  There are so many fight scenes out there where I think they're trying not to fall into the trap discussed earlier of being unclear, so they go hard in the other direction and over-specify.  If you want to tell me at the very start that our hero has a sword in his left hand and a dagger in his right, go for it, but I don't want to hear about what anyone's left hand and right hand are doing during the actual fight.  (Unless handedness is a theme or something in your story?) I don't need to know how many degrees they turned to block a blow.  I don't need to know too many adjectives, because each of your adjectives should be hitting me in the face.

There's a lot more I could say about flow.  I do a lot of work with numbers of syllables and length of syllables, which means that certain words won't fit in the sentence I'm working on.  I do a lot with timing the big moments and arranging the white space around paragraphs so that the reader has a pause to go "oh shit!" when I want them to go "oh shit!"  I do a lot of onomatopoeia (sound effects) as shorthand for movement. "ClashClashClash. Boom!"  But I feel like getting into all that will be a bit too much and it's kind of more of a feeling than a science, so I'll stop here.

Good luck!

[shinjukuspiritcommittee]

Top 20 2021

My Favorites (updated)

Hello my readers, it’s been a while since I just posted something not related to a headcanon and I am doing one right now. I just wanted to take a bit of a break to just get SOMETHING on here on my days off work. Plus I’m just trying to find my groove when it comes to writing again so hopefully this helps me just get back into the mood of making a post more often lol. I wanted to revisit this topic for a while just because we’ve had a lot more events and a lot more alts in the game were added. And I know for a fact LifeWonders reads these posts in some capacity because I have meme’d an AR into the game with my top picks from the last list I did for Christmas 2019. No I didn’t. I’m just joking around and I know LifeWonders doesn’t read this.

Anyways rather than just make up a list on the spot like last year I decided to use the Housamo Sortmaker (Link: https://club.housamo.xyz/sortmaker/ ) to try and make a list that’s more revealing to what I was thinking at the time. Since I talked about 20 characters ish last time I’m just gonna read from my 20th place to my 1st place spots and try to justify whatever I was thinking at the time. Anyways-

20: Marchosias and Susan: This one was a surprise for me if I’m being honest but I’m just gonna blame the fact on Shukou’s recent involvement with LifeWonders in the form of Live A Hero and how Ryekie and Mokdai live in my headspace rent free whenever I think about the characters in that game. Maybe we can see about getting some LAH headcanons since that’s a LifeWonders property too). So out of all the characters Shukou drew for Housamo why did I pick Marchosias? Easy, it’s been 4 years and this poor man has yet to receive a proper alt or any kind of skin for that matter and I think that it’s a crime. Sure he’s not my favorite but he’s definitely grown on me because he’s just a gentle dad kind of character and his design has grown on me over the years. I just hope he doesn’t get left behind since he has a lot of really interesting and potential things to look forward to in the future given how the main story has unfolded.

19: Shiva/Algernon: The helmet heads are together because DAI XT quickly became my favorite artist for Fire Emblem Heroes and I really just like their designs. DAI XT just knows how to draw robots, armor and muscles well. Also Chapter 11 with Shiva you can read into some interesting perspectives. I don’t want to spoil any of the untranslated content for anyone who’s waiting for the official english translation. But if you are curious Roureem has a blogspot where he posts summaries of the newly released events.

Link: https://housamosummaries.blogspot.com/

18: Cthugha: I love this goober so much. He’d constantly try to act super sentai just trying say good morning everyday. He may not be very bright but that just adds to his charm and honestly I enjoy how he always tries to play the hero in a lot of scenarios because it’s refreshing when they implement him after a bunch of heavy hitting story stuff. I’m not gonna spoil too much about it but I will say he’s more than welcome after everything Chapter 10 and 11 put the reader through.

17: Mineaki: I’ve made a post about him being one of my least favorites way back when I first started this blog and let me just say how times have changed and I’ve learned the value of not judging a book by it’s cover. I still think there’s something a bit off about Kowmei’s style for his characters, but Mineaki has definitely grown on me. He’s a caring instructor who does watch out for his students even if it’s not always in the most direct way possible. Not to get into too many spoilers he’s got a lot of intrigue around him as well and I am curious to see his role get expanded down the line.

16: Ded: Housamo is the reason I really like christmas. The Christmas stories despite following a similar structure to each other do tend to be my favorite stories. Ded himself is also just another good dad character. He’s also two guys for the price of one, so I mean… you know… you’ve got the forever ask your other dad situation. There wasn’t much thought put into this choice I just like santa as a concept because I think the outfits are cute, it’s always nice to get something for people you care about on Christmas and Ded is the perfect embodiment of both sides to Christmas.

15: Shinya: Everyone we need to manifest buff Shinya for 2021, this is not a drill. This is legitimate. We must make Taromati’s and my wish come true. To be more serious again he’s just a sweet and gentle character. He’s also drawn by my favorite Housamo artist. Their characters always just look so naturally good. I’m just surprised he hasn’t gotten much of an alt given he’s perfect material for Valentine’s day. He’s just a soft boy and I would love for him to be in more things because I just enjoy seeing him.

14: Jacob: I have to be honest Jacob is on here because every time I look at him he just gets more handsome to me. I wasn’t all that impressed with his introduction and we don’t know much about his background but I’ve just been drawn to him more and more. Maybe it’s just because he’s drawn by GomTang? I just like looking at him and I can’t help it. To speak a bit less crass he’s another gentleman kind of guy and those are always nice.

13: Shennong: Yeah I like the doc a lot. Firstly, I’m a huge sucker for big bulls and Shennong fits the bill. The white fur really adds to his appeal visually and the purple horns give off a bit of an unnatural appearance. Shen feels like someone who’s been touch starved and alone for a long time given how he acts as a character and when we actually hug him I just lost it. He always has others well being on his mind so he’s not afraid to jump in and help, or give a much needed lecture about when you need to take better care of yourself. He just comes across as very well balanced overall.

12: Heracles: I won’t lie- at first he didn’t interest me much. He looked incredibly plain when among the rest of the cast and he seemed like the typical “bait” character since the banner had Echo, Barguest, Gyumao and Snow. But after reading the translation for Valentine Time Slip I was taken aback at how much of a gentle giant he turned out to be and I just really liked his interactions with the others in that event. And honestly his special quest from that year was one of the more unique ones given the slower pace and more romantic vibe it had. After the event warmed my heart I did a complete 180 and I just knew I really liked him.

11. Yasuyori: Before I start praising him I feel I have to justify why he didn’t quite make top 10 and it will have some mild Chapter 10 spoilers. To be as vague as possible his resolution just didn’t vibe with me at the end of Chapter 10. Like it wasn’t a bad resolution and it was the right choice to make but in my opinion there really wasn’t a moment I felt was clear where he made a choice for himself. Everything just sort of happened around him and it felt like he didn’t really do much to improve his situation. To an extent I kind of see that being the idea given his origins and the story he’s based on and there is some semblance of him coming to terms with himself alongside his isolation being portrayed pretty well, but I just wasn’t satisfied with it as much as I would like to be. With that out of the way, oh my god I just want this boy to never stop smiling and I just want to give him hugs constantly please he just deserves to be happy!!! Yasuyori is a character who’s got a lot of baggage and he’s just trying to find ways to properly cope with his trauma and not repeat past mistakes and I just really like that idea. His role in Xmas 2020 (sorry I just forgot the name of that event, but its when he gets his alt) was a much better representation for his character in my eyes. I’m not gonna spoil anything like I keep saying but he isn’t one to disappoint in future appearances and I just hope this lovable lug keeps getting the support he deserves.

10: Hephaestus: A spicy way to start the latter half of the list. I just want to give this lad a hug and tell him he is worthy of love. But at the same time he is a little shit… and I love that. I can’t fully explain why I grow a paternal instinct in me seeing this grown man sob about his mother but I just do. I want to keep him safe and give him all the affection he wants. Though I am aware a lot of Hephaestus’s interest in his parental figure is… questionable. I am just gonna say I would accept his love for what it is and he just wants approval.

9. Shuten: I’ll be honest I have no proper reason for why I like Shuten so much. He’s just a cool and reliable guy. He just seems like a go with the flow kind of person most of the time and he’s a bit more direct than most of the characters which I always appreciate. Plus I have an unspoken bias for naop guys in Housamo.

8. Durga: While not number 1 on this list, I still really like Durga. She’s quirky but not to an annoying degree, she’s determined and definitely very confident in her own abilities. Her growing to be more sociable throughout her events is something I enjoy seeing because it really creates this sense of growth.

7. Kyuma: I get a lot of people don’t like Kowmei’s art but I really think we should look past it because Kyuma is one of the sweeter picks. He’s someone who just wants to prove himself for his own worth and not what David can provide, but David is part of him and it just creates the potential for a good arc. Plus this boy is unintentionally smooth and will just take your heart when possible. I honestly want to see Kyuma more in events because he’s honestly the jock that carries 3 of the 4 brain cells. He’s also the last one without an alt so I’m just hoping he gets one in 2021 because he really deserves one in my opinion. (Also fan art makes him really cute).

6. Tomte: Tomte is relatively new but honestly his event in 2019 really endeared me to him. I’m trying to be spoiler free because the best way to enjoy these stories is for yourselves but let me just say his arc in the event was really endearing to me and much more than I was expecting. His fan service is also incredibly hammy and I love it. Visually Tomte is one of my favorites, I love his multi colored hair and starlit pupils cuz it makes his otherwise more generic look have some flare. I knew I liked him out the box and when I read about him in the summaries and can’t wait to read the official translation for him. I was just very endeared.

5. Tetsuya: Tetsuya fucks. Moving on…

Jokes aside this one’s a bit simple. I have no shame in admitting I think he’s attractive and his whole resistance towards wanting a relationship is cute in a weird roundabout way. When he says no I just want it MORE. I just really like duo haired tsunderes.

4. Kengo: Kengo 3rd alt 2021. Please LifeWonders I need my favorite Summoner. He’s a bro and that’s what counts. Kengo has got your back, not afraid to rely on you, a very fun and dynamic guy. Sure he’s not that bright when it comes to making plans or any book smart, but there are times where he’s the best at being able to read the room or just understand what someone needs to hear even if it isn’t always what someone wants to hear. His bullheaded nature is actually one of his redeeming qualities because it’s nice to just not overcomplicate things and just understand what’s actually going on. Yes the early story didn’t do many favors for him but to me the events, especially the later ones, do much more work for his character. To me, at least.

3. Ashigara: Ashigara is best bear, and I will defend that stance in 2021. The main thing that draws me to Ashigara is that I can see a bit of myself in him. He gets very emotional when he gets left alone, he’s very loud when with his friends, has a tendency of speaking his mind- just someone who wears his heart on his sleeve. I also appreciate that in spite of the negative he isn’t someone who backs down when the going gets tough and in a few instances he’s able to hold his ground physically at least.

2. Wakan Tanka: Love at first sight. This ray of sunshine still persists as the number 1 husband, but number 2 character. Firstly I am a huge fan of the partial beast aesthetic. The buffalo ears and the horns  are absolutely adorable. Secondly he’s a perfect body type; he’s not too muscular but not exactly flabby. Third he is just so positive and I love that. He’s someone I admire and wanna hug.

1. Taurus Mask: The more things change the more they stay the same. I’m still a big Taurus Mask fan for all the same reasons as last time. I just… relate to this boy. He is an incredibly shy boy who uses his public persona for confidence. Maybe I’m reading too much into it but it’s like we’re soul bros!

So yeah, my tastes haven’t changed in a year and a half.

[kbstories]

impression//expression

“It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day, he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.”

(Or: Being friends with Bakugou Katsuki is anything but a linear experience. Kirishima Eijirou would have it no other way.)

Tags: Kirishima POV, Developing Friendships, First Impressions, Slice of Life, Character Study

No additional content warnings apply. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9.

***

Kirishima Eijirou had stared at the grin on Bakugou’s face when he pulled the pin in his gauntlet and thought: Holy shit, this guy is insane.

Over multiple screens, a good chunk of Ground β went up in a blast so strong the floor trembled with its aftershocks even here, miles away. Concrete and steel and glass were incinerated in a gust of fire and debris until all that was left was Midoriya’s crumpled form amidst plumes of smoke and Bakugou standing tall in the ruins.

The cameras shorted out once, twice before the image stabilized; the transmission remained silent. There was no sound needed to see how Bakugou’s grin got an edge sharper in the wake of the explosion.

Insane and absolutely deadly.

It wasn’t Kirishima’s first impression of him, per se. Certainly he’d had some sort of reaction to the only name ranked above his own after the Entrance Exams and the total sum of zero rescue points listed beside it. He can even remember the twinge of something in his chest after seeing that infamous quirk in action on day one – be it awe or envy or plain curiosity, that innocent question of How does it work, though? that accompanies most encounters with a new power.

Still: In those first few days, when Kirishima thinks of Bakugou Katsuki, he thinks of the mad glint in his eyes as he went above and beyond in his attempt to murder their classmate (or seriously maim him, at the very least).

In hindsight, having him play the villain was perhaps less coincidence and more fate, given the optics of what could reasonably be described as a shitshow. And, okay, Kirishima knows it’s not exactly fair to judge someone based solely on fleeting observations. His parents taught him better than that. Crimson Riot showed him better than that. It’s not like Kirishima had come all this way to U.A. to immediately break the promise he made to himself upon arrival.

It’s just that Bakugou is as feral as they come, and the moment Kirishima recognizes it’s fear he felt crawling up his spine that day he makes it his personal mission to face it head-on until it’s gone.

Endure and overcome, just like any other obstacle looming over the difficult path ahead. Kirishima smiles around the pencil he’s chewing on as Aizawa drones on, eyes trained on the uniquely tense set of shoulders across the room.

Yeah. Bakugou won’t even stand a chance.

*

It takes many cold shoulders, rebuffed lunch invitations and countless glares – and a villainous intervention Kirishima could’ve honestly lived without – for a rough voice to say:

“You there. Shark Teeth.”

The sun is starting to peek into the room as it hangs low and lazy in the sky. Class 1-A has just been released into a well-deserved weekend: Kirishima is very much aware his mothers want him home as fast as possible after what happened at U.S.J., and he’s throwing his things into his bag at peak velocity. Only after a tap on his shoulder and a subtle nod from Sero does he register it’s him Bakugou is talking to.

Perhaps ‘growling at’ would be a better description, but… semantics. Kirishima throws the guy a look and a smile over his shoulder either way, “Hey! What’s up, man?”, and given Bakugou’s eyes only narrow a little, he’s about 70% sure he’s not done something to land on his shit list.

Yet.

All Bakugou does is direct a decidedly less neutral look towards Sero, who jolts and stumbles over a quick “Um. Gotta– Yup, okay, bye!” before he books it out the classroom. Kirishima watches him go with some bemusement and a muttered “Dude”, not that Bakugou reacts to it in any way.

“Spar with me”, Bakugou says instead – demands, really – and Kirishima feels his brows tick upwards before he can stop himself, hands pausing in his quest to cram his notepad next to his books without wrinkling its cover page too badly.

“Uh. Like, right now? ‘Cause I can’t. Well, I could but I’m about to miss my train as is and I’d have to tell my–”

A slow blink, and even that is threatening when it’s coming from Bakugou. “No, asshole. This weekend, or something. I don’t care.”

Oh. Kirishima blinks. Something about Bakugou approaching him out of his own free will must be causing a substantial lag between different areas of his brain because– Oh.

“Wait. You wanna hang out?”

Maybe he could’ve hidden the clear surprise in his voice a bit better, that emphasis on you that sort of slipped in there without him really wanting it to. Kirishima’s heart sinks at the twitch to Bakugou’s brow that pretty much guarantees whatever he actually meant to say is forever lost to the ire perpetually simmering in that red gaze.

Well, it was nice knowing what going to U.A. is like. At least none of his classmates are present to see Kirishima’s inevitable – if incredibly untimely – demise.

Then Bakugou… rolls his eyes, exhales a harsh tch for good measure. “Whatever.” He shoves his bag further up his shoulder and, without a glance back, walks out the room–

Oh no, you don’t.

Out of all foolish thoughts it’s that one that shoots through Kirishima’s head before he grabs his stuff and goes after him. Bakugou somehow manages to maintain that no-fucks-given air to his gait despite how fast he walks, and Kirishima falls into a light jog to close the gap.

“It’s a great idea, man. Can’t have us going soft over the weekend! Plus Ultra, just like All Might said, right?”

Bakugou gives him a withering glance of a side-eye for his trouble. Kirishima notes the distinct lack of explode-y manslaughter, though, and allows himself to settle right into Bakugou’s pace.

“Besides, it’s been like a week and we’re already having villains crashing our lessons. I mean, we showed ‘em what’s what and all, but still! Some extra training can’t hurt.”

It’s not like Kirishima minds being the one to carry a conversation yet the fact that he hasn’t been told to shut up is… something? Not enough for Kirishima to point out, it’s just a thing he notices, just something, so he keeps talking. Past U.A.’s gates, down the stairs and onto the busy sidewalk they go, and Bakugou’s hands never leave the pockets of his pants as he marches past clusters of people in an unflinching line.

Head held high, eyes dead ahead. Cutting through the crowd with his presence alone, and in his wake Kirishima follows.

The afternoon light is hitting that glow-y hue that paints even the most mundane of things in shades of gold when Kirishima realizes they’re headed to the train station. He draws up short, slows his step in the split-second it takes to ask himself if the other even takes the train home or–

Bakugou’s eyes are on him, “What?”, that one word barked so impatiently Kirishima throws the thought right out the metaphorical window and keeps walking.

“Nothing!” A flash of his home screen proves: Five minutes left. They’re making good time. Which, actually– “So what time were you thinking for our sparring sesh? I’m good whenever, unless it’s super late at night. Overprotective parents, you know how it is.”

That gets a huff out of Bakugou. That, and a gesture that’s sort of a grab, sort of a wave that has Kirishima a little stumped until Bakugou sighs gruffly. “Your phone, dumbass.”

“Oh, sure! Here.”

The device changes hands. Kirishima contemplates feeling embarrassed about the obvious crack that takes up half the screen; he’d designed his hero costume without his delicate tech in mind, and with the whirlwind of starting and then surviving week one of the new school year, he hasn’t been able to spare a minute to get neither the phone fixed nor the costume amended.

Bakugou doesn’t comment on it – in fact, he pulls his sleeve down to hold the thing as if to cushion it, and when he taps the screen it’s with his knuckles. Before Kirishima can ask, the pre-installed voice control AI chirps its distinct jingle and Bakugou tells it to make a new contact, rattling off a long string of numbers.

Even before the AI has confirmed the input, Kirishima is catching the phone chucked rather carelessly at his head. “There”, Bakugou says, starting to climb the stairs to the tracks two steps at a time.

Kirishima doesn’t have much time to process any of that before the telltale rattling of an incoming train sounds above them. “Oh shit”, he breathes, hurrying onto the platform and to the closest door just in time to see the last passenger get out. Once inside, he pumps his fist.

“Hell yeah! Dude, we–”

The person next to him, who is not Bakugou, looks rather startled. What the…? Kirishima turns a full 360 degrees before a knock just inches from his face startles him and he meets Bakugou’s smirk, firmly on the other side of the window.

Not a moment later, the train starts pulling away. Kirishima presses close to the thick, faintly scratched glass to watch Bakugou turn and walk right back where they came from. His hand is raised, the light catching white and glinting on something in his hand.

A phone. Oh, right!

Kirishima swipes across an image of Crimson Riot’s iconic pose to unlock and reads Bakugou Katsuki, having left the tab open in his haste. First things first: With a soft snort and a few swift taps, the name is changed before Kirishima hits the speech bubble icon next to it.

Baku💣💥

bro what the hell (sent 17:14)

but thanks (sent 17:14)

it’s kirishima btw (sent 17:15)

just text me the details whenever 💪🏻 (sent 17:15)

He watches the tick next to his messages turn blue almost immediately and waits. One station passes, then two. By the third Kirishima is sure he’s been left on read and laughs, shaking his head. Of course.

The rest of his way home is spent assuring Sero he has not, in fact, exited life in a flurry of explosions as well as letting his moms know he’ll be home in a few. The next time Kirishima checks his phone is between brushing his teeth and climbing into bed, two unread messages waiting for him.

Baku💣💥

[link] (received 19:35)

6AM tomorrow, don’t be fucking late (received 19:35)

The link leads to a location which his phone matches to a quirk-friendly gym pretty close to the U.A. grounds. Kirishima scrolls through a few images of the facilities with some interest before his brain registers–

6AM. On a Saturday.

Baku💣💥

/dude/ (sent 22:08)

srsly?? (sent 22:09)

😩😩 (sent 22:19)

f @ my sleep schedule but ok (sent 22:25)

Minutes later, Kirishima stares at the near-painful sight of an alarm set to 5AM before he sighs and flops face-down into his pillow. The things he does in the name of friendship.

>>Chapter 2

[boyneriver-fraser]

Ho! The house! 🗣

When I grow up, I want a personalized guided tour of the Big House on Fraser’s Ridge

The moment the last tenant hangs up his tool belt, I want to walk back and forth through that breezeway. Peek into every cupboard. Climb every stair. Rootle through every cubbyhole. Jump on every bed. There is so much to see, and touch, and smell… and I want to DO IT ALL!

Thoughts & Observations: S5E3 Free Will

Marsali is already proving to be the perfect apprentice. She’s motivated, inquisitive, intelligent, detail-oriented, logical, and curious about all sorts of new-fangled ideas and things there in Boston. Just wait till she tastes those cream pies.

Claire’s voiceover almost needs a Dun Dun Dun… soundtrack. Let’s hope she dares history with caution, and the copy of Dr. Rawlings’ Recommendations Fergus delivers to the printer doesn’t include scrawls and doodles of anything too new-fangled.

Really like the Jamie Payne (director) – Luke Schelhass (writer) combo! 😃

No doubt many people echoed Jamie’s Deo gratius when they realized we were being treated to a JamieClaire-centric episode. It worked well for me, but so did Between Two Fires. I find each of Jamie and Claire compelling on their own, pursing their individual interests and causes. I also like seeing their relationships with other characters. Call me kooky.

Callback #1: This one takes place in a kind of Upside Down. Remember S4E5 Savages, when Jamie returned to the Ridge from Woolam’s Creek, happy after discovering #MurtaghSaved? A shotgun-armed Claire was unable to sleep after the tragedies of Petronella’s and her baby’s measle deaths and Adawehi’s murder.

In Free Will, Jamie returns to the Ridge from Hillsborough, stunned by the Regulators’ tarring and feathering and by Lieutenant Knox’s murdering Ethan MacKinnon, and anxious about needing to form a militia. Despite missing Jamie while he’s away, Claire’s work on the Ridge and interaction with her children and grandchildren satisfies her and allows her to sleep soundly.

Fergus takes a mean shorthand! 🖌

We hear the first of many “Roger Mac(s)” to come.

“We’ll be taking yer whisky with us to share with the men. The finest I’ve tasted since leaving Scotland.” Fergus Claudel Fraser: Official Distiller of Fraser’s Ridge (I love this adaptation! I don’t think I mentioned in my The Fiery Cross episode review how much I loved Jamie’s calling Fergus to stand by his hand. Fergus, like Young Ian, is a man of worth.)

⚠️ Murtz Alert ⚠️ Oops… False alarm… 🙁 Fraser’s Ridge workforce includes a lot of silver-haired, ponytail-wearing tenants. 🤷🏻‍♀️

“Mr. Trouble” 😂 Too bad wee Robin Scott, who plays Germain, would be too young to attend most of the cast’s social outings. He would be the life of the party. 🎉

Does Marsali need Brianna’s help with reading because medical books are advanced academics and Brianna holds a degree from M.I.T, or because Laoghaire dropped the ball and didn’t educate her daughters? It’s safe to say Laoghaire didn’t encourage them to read anything that sat on a witch’s bookshelf.

Callback #2: The JamieClaire-on-horseback-led convoy’s leaving Fraser’s Ridge took me back to S2E8 The Fox’s Lair and E9 Je Suis Prest. Did you notice the pecking order? 1: Colonel & Physician. 2: Captain. 3: Official Distiller. Priorities are important, during times of peace and of war.

So… Stephen Bonnet’s free from incarceration, and recently sighted in Wilmington? How far is Wilmington from Fraser’s Ridge? Does it matter almost every fit and young man, almost every weapon, and the only doctor are on the road to Brownsville, while Bonnet’s purported child and the child’s mother are back with the not-so-fit-nor-young-nor-armed men on Fraser’s Ridge? I suppose it doesn’t, since the mother herself knows Bonnet could be consulting a map and stealing a horse as we speak. I somehow doubt her husband and named father of her child would agree… if he only knew.

Callback #3: Colonel Jamie tells Captain Roger there’s no time to train the militia, so he’ll teach them to fight like Highlanders, to gather and scatter on his command. Can you say Dougal MacKenzie in S2E9 Je Suis Prest? Sure. I knew you could.

Thank goodness for Closed Captioning. Growing up immersed in Scots (language, accents, people), I rarely “huh?” during Outlander, but I have no ear for Welsh, and John Quincy Myers keeps my clicking that CC button. And his lines are so worth understanding! 😂

Callback #4: The fireside banter and guy-talk, with Claire’s being the only participant without a Y chromosome, takes me back to S1E5 Rent. Good times.

We’re slowly adding to the books’ Fraser’s Ridge roster.  We already know Isaiah Morton and Ronnie Sinclair. Around the fire we meet brothers Evan and Kenny Lindsay, and Geordie Chisholm. Isaiah Morton on his way to Brownsville? What could go wrong?

Speaking of books, so much of Fireside Chat reminded me of The Fiery Cross, right down to Jamie’s not needing to worry whether his feet or his hair might burn in order to sleep “warm.” Nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Say no more. 

I am very impressed with Paul Gorman’s playing the Beardsley twins, and duly impressed with his characters’ appearing onscreen at the same time. Well done! BUT… the BEST part of the entire Twins Story introduction was the explanation for Keziah’s missing britches. 😻

You’re lucky, Lizzie Wemyss, I’m completely committed to Murtz, because any man who would forgo his pants to keep kittens warm is my kind of man. ❤️

I wonder if Father Fogden ever missed his mirror?

I couldn’t begin to imagine those young men’s lives. Orphaned at two, with four sisters dead at sea. Sold on a 30-year term, starved, beaten, deafened… and made to sleep in a barn that is too cold for goats.

Josiah isn’t going to avoid Claire’s scary looking medical tools for long if he keeps drawing attention to his sore throat. Owie!

More book people, People: Joan, Hugh, and Iain Òg Findlay. In The Fiery Cross Roger also meets with Iain Mòr, Joan’s brother and head of the family.

Two years, three months, and five days…

It’s probably the meds, but when Fanny Beardsley slams the door in Jamie’s face, I imagined her turning to the goats and saying, “I told ‘im we got already got one.”

I’m thankful my TV’s Smell-o-Vision™ is out of order. Brianna, oh she who could not tolerate an autopsied torso, is thankful she skipped this road trip all together.

The direction, lighting, special effects, makeup, and prosthetics are excellent in this part of the episode and Mr. McCreary has outdone himself with the soundtrack. Truly a House of Horrors, Chez Beardsley.

“None of us could give him a baby.” Um, I hate to break it to you, Aaron, but I suspect it’s your problem, not any of your five wives’.

Brit Bronwyn James gives Baltimore Fanny a decent generic American accent.

Poor Jamie! He knows the pain of sending Claire back through the stones. Contemplating sending his beloved daughter and grandson, and tolerated son-in-law, is too much. 😖

Poor Fanny! To live as she has for two years, three months, and five days with that “wretch,” and awaken to see Jamie and Claire’s spooning, peacefully sleeping in her living room. I’d sneak off in the dead of night, too.

My grand-père went to Hillsborough and all I got was a wagon full of goats. 🐐🐐🐐🐐🐐

“I’ll do what must be done.” No foreshadowing, thank you very much. James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser has suffered enough.

__________

March 2, 2020

Photo: Starz, Screenshots: @boyneriver-fraser​ Jon Gary Steele Twitter, W Network/Global TV app, Gifs: @abreathofsnowandwaffles​ (1 & 2), @jemscorner​ (3), @avasetocallmyown​ (4), @grantcary​ (5), @mistress-gif​ (6 & 7)

#Outlander #Personal #Review #The Fiery Cross #S5E3 Free Will #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #Roger MacKenzie #Fergus Claudel Fraser #Geordie Chisholm #Adso #Mama ComfyPants & The Kittens #193 #030220

[jasonrae117]

This is my first post on Tumblr. I have an ongoing story on fanfiction but I felt like trying something new. I was heavily inspired by @flyingkiki because timrae is too good of a pairing and there needs to be more stories. This is my contribution. I will be using songs throughout since its a band au but only this first chapter will have the whole song typed out. Furthermore all songs in this story exist in our world but for sake of my storytelling some will be "written" as originals by the character while others still belong to their respective artist which I will note.

For part one:

1.Dear Society- Madison Beer (As is)

2. Ribs - Lorde (As is)

3. Like That - Bea Miller and Aurora (Intended as band original)

4. COPYCAT - Billie Eilish (intended as band original)

Bad Idea, Good Intentions 

Part 1

Tim wondered why he found himself at a club on this Saturday night. Him and his friends had just graduated with their bachelor's degree in their respective fields and they convinced him to celebrate with them at this club.

By 'friends' he meant primarily his best friend Connor. The other two guys were more of Connor's friends than his but Tim knew them well enough to consider them his too. However, Connor had called him the day before and practically begged Tim to come. Apparently there was this new band that he knew the drummer and this was their highest profile gig yet and Connor wanted to support his friend by bringing whoever he could. Tim reluctantly agreed, feeling like he should get out more and spend time with his friends outside of college.

Tim already felt like this was a bad idea when he walked into a packed club with flashing lights, a fully stocked bar, and a large stage. 

"Tim! You made it!" Connor walked over to him and gave him a one armed hug as the other was occupied holding a half empty pint of beer. 

Tim smiled at his long time best friend. "Of course buddy, I keep my promises."

Connor dragged him over to the bar where their other friends Garfield and Garth were sitting. Both greeted him with cheers and hugs.

"Dude, this place is fucking great! So many hot girls!"

"Good God Gar, can you keep it in your pants for one freaking night?" Garth shoved the blond playfully and took a sip of his drink.

"What can I say, the ladies love me. I just wish your stupid band played something easier to dance to." Gar crossed his arms and glared at the stage where the four person band was performing.

"This is your friend's band?" Tim directed at Connor.

"Yeah, this is Nevermore! Wally West is the drummer. Jinx is on bass, Argent is keyboard, and Raven is the lead singer and guitarist." He pointed to each of the members.

"What the hell kind of names are those. That Raven girl already has a creepy vibe and she chooses a name like that? What's with the Edgar Allan Poe obsession?" Garfield looked bewildered and shook his head.

"I'm shocked you even know who that is. But dude, it's just their stage names."

Tim looked back to Connor wanting to know more about the band that made him come here. "What are their real names?"

"I don't know." Connor shrugged.

"Are they single?" Garth had asked grinning.

"I don't know about the other two, but don't even try with Jinx, that's Wally's girl." 

The guys entered a discussion about Connor's and Wally's friendship and what his stage name was. Tim heard it was something like Kid Flash but he wasn't paying too much attention. He was focused on the band onstage. 

The song sounded familiar but Tim wasn't big on music. Each member seemed to have their unique style and color but they all worked well together. Wally was wearing yellows, Jinx wore black and hot pink striped knee high socks with a short leather skirt and black mesh top. Her hair was dyed entirely bubble gum pink and wrapped up in two space buns. Argent had black hair with red highlights running through it and an all black outfit with a studded leather jacket. The lead singer, Raven, really caught his eye. She has a short purple bob that fell to just below her chin. 

Her outfit is what really had his mind stopping. She had on a black long sleeved ribbed shirt with a large keyhole neckline, showing off the tops of her full breasts, which was tucked into royal blue shorts that seemed to be barely long enough to even be classified as shorts with frayed edges. Her legs were encased in black fishnet stocking ending in a chunky heeled combat boot. Tim liked to think of himself as a gentleman that Alfred would be proud of but...the woman was hot. She had an hourglass figure but probably the best set of legs and ass he's ever seen. She was almost unreal how incredible she looked. 

The banter of his friends regained his attention as the band switched to another song. 

"Hey fellas, let's go hit the floor, this song is much better!" Garth and Connor finished their drinks and placed them on the bar agreeing to Garfield's request. They looked to Tim when he didn't move. 

"You guys go ahead, I'll be there in a second. I haven't even gotten a single drink in."

Connor threw an arm around him. "That's what happens when you arrive late." He ruffled his hair a bit. "Alright man, we'll try to find a spot close to the stage. See you there." 

With that his friends mingled within the crowd. Tim turned to the bar and ordered a bourbon on the rocks, he wasn't great in heavily social settings like this so he needed to calm his mind a bit. As he waited, his focus returned to the band.

They were actually really good. While he was slightly confused since their music was slower than he expected, the songs themselves were great. The lead singer had a lower voice of an alto but in the next song they started, it was clear she had a wider range. It was smooth when it needed to be but raspy and gritty, adding to the unique sound. The other girls added to the dynamic with their higher notes and he found he really liked it. 

The slow beat of their next song reverberated around the bar, drawing everyone in, particularly Tim. He moved from his spot at the countertop to one of the metal standing tables that was currently unoccupied. It stood to the mid-right of the stage with a small gathering of dancing patrons between him and the stage. He gently placed his hand that held the almost empty glass of bourbon on the surface of the table as he leaned into it. 

The lead singer Raven, he recalled from Gar's description earlier, slowly grasped the microphone. One delicate hand curled around the mic while the other laid gently in the supporting pole. Her almost raspy voice fluttered through the speakers.

 

Don't be cautious, don't be kind

You committed, I'm your crime

The low octave sounded almost sensual and her hand slid down the pole in time with the held note.

Push my button anytime

You got your finger on the trigger, but your trigger finger's mine

Her left hand formed into the shape of a gun and as she 'pulled the trigger' she collapsed her hand save for her single index finger that she spun slowly in a circle. Tim grinned at the small gesture representing being wrapped around one's finger and he couldn't pull his eyes away from how delicate and smooth her hands were. Even from the distance he sat she looked flawless.

Silver dollar, golden flame

Dirty water, poison rain

Perfect murder, take your aim

I don't belong to anyone, but everybody knows my name

Raven removed the microphone from the stand with her left hand and held onto the pole with the other as she slid down to a squat. On the beat she pulsed up and down to the next lyrics.

By the way, you've been uninvited

'Cause all you say are all the same things I did

Tim swallowed, eyes having never left her body he watched as the muscles in her legs contract and saw how her amazing ass peeked out slightly more from her bottoms. The routine had certainly taken a turn to a sexual nature and he couldn't help being turned on by the attractive lead singer. Her voice seemed to just purr in his ear. She rose to her feet again as she began the chorus.

Copycat trying to cop my manner

Watch your back when you can't watch mine

Copycat trying to cop my glamour

Why so sad, bunny, you can't have mine?

Did she just make eye contact with him? Holy shit, she definitely did. And was that a smirk? Was he drooling? Tim wiped at his mouth to confirm that he did not embarrass himself. He shook his head a bit to rid himself of the ridiculous idea that she could pick him out in the growing crowd. Many more patrons, especially the male ones, drew in closer and he found that he only had a small space around his table left. No way she looked directly at him. 

Call me calloused, call me cold

You're italic, I'm in bold

She sauntered to the right side of the stage before flipping around and doing a body roll on "italic" followed by a deeper and more exaggerated one on "bold" where she popped her ass out more. There was a cheer from almost all the guys in the building and a flurry of whistles. 

Call me cocky, watch your tone

You better love me, 'cause you're just a clone

Was Time seeing right? He could have sworn she winked at him as she strutted to his side of the stage. He knew he wasn't imagining things when she deliberately pointed at him accusingly while swaying her hips. Damn it was hot in here. He knocked the rest of his drink back hoping to steady his thrumming heart.

The chorus repeated with her returning to center stage and moving the stand off to the side. She dropped to the floor and threw her legs over the side where some of the guys tried to touch her before a bouncer pushed them back. As she finished the chorus she swung her legs back onstage but pivoted so she was parallel to the edge. One leg straightened while the upstage leg was bent.

I would hate to see you go

Hate to be the one that told you so

You just crossed the line

You've run out of time

Raven brought her upper body down flat with such ease and no doubt incredible core control. She gracefully placed an arm above her head as it turned to look out at the audience all keeping in time with the now soft melody of the song.

 so sorry, now you know

Sorry I'm the one that told you so

On the extended note she curled back up and hugged her knees briefly before sitting up and resting her ass on her heels. Tim was not only impressed with her fluidity and the hot choreography, but the range she held in her vocals. He was starting to think this wasn't such a bad idea after all. 

Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry, sorry

Raven bowed her head and sang softly into the mic looking like she was praying for their forgiveness. The music silenced for a beat before she snapped her head up with a devious glint in her eyes, a small curl to the side of her lips, and a quirked brow.

Sike

She got up to her knees and swayed back nearly to the former sitting position before thrusting forward again on each beat.

By the way, you've been uninvited

'Cause all you say are all the same things I did...

...you can't have mine?

She had risen to her feet again through a combination of swaying hips and body rolls. She retrieved the mic stand again and returned the mic to its post before the last lyric and ended the song in the same pose she started with.

At the song's last note the crowd erupted in applause, whistling, and to Tim's displeasure, sexual comments from some of the more rowdy and drunk guys. The band bowed and waved before thanking the owner and the audience and retreated off stage. 

His earlier worry about the band playing songs inappropriate to the occasion was thrown out the window because all parts of him thoroughly enjoyed their last song. He wouldn't dare say that to anyone but damn him if it wasn't true. That lead singer was just so gorgeous and had such a unique and fantastic voice, this must be every guy's fantasy. It was his now but who was he kidding, she must have a boyfriend. Wait...but didn't she wink at him? No, it was all an act. God he needed another drink. 

Tim made his way back to the bar and ordered another bourbon on the rocks. He paid his tab and leaned on the bar, replaying the movements of Raven's body. He felt a little shameful for not watching the other bandmates as the whole song was performed well, but she was too captivating. Probably why she was the lead singer.

 A pat on the shoulder interrupted him from his non-stop overthinking and he turned to see the smiling faces of the friends he came here with. The friends he had completely forgotten about until now. 

"Dude where the hell did you go? We had a great spot just left of center stage! There were a ton of hot girls dancing with us!" Gar waved his arms around almost smacking Garth and Connor. The two just shaking their heads and laughing.

"Not to mention a great view of the performance." Connor nudged Tim and an almost wistful look came across his eyes. Tim swallowed hard again.

"And what a performance that was. Shit that lead singer has a great body." Garth swung his arm around Gar's shoulder.

"And voice." Tim coughed and immediately took another sip of his drink realizing that it didn't help.

Garfield chuckled. "Who was listening to the music when she worked that ass like that. She probably got ninety percent of the guys in here hard by the first chorus."

"And you said she was creepy." Connor poked Gar in his chest. 

He held his hands up defensively. "Hey, that was before I knew she could get down like that! I mean her name is the bird of death, a bad omen. The other girls' names are kinda hot."

"Raven is just her stage name." Tim interjected. He didn't know why he felt like defending her, he quite literally didn't know her at all and this was typical Garfield behavior.

"Woah chill Tim. Got the hots for the lead singer? Wouldn't be the only one. Do you think she's single?" Garth lightly pushed his shoulder and took a seat next to him at the bar, flagging the bartender down. The other two looked at Connor who seemed to have the most information on the girl.

He head flicked back and forth between the two men staring at him before he understood their eager silence. "Look, I don't actually know that much about her. I just know about the fake names and mostly about Jinx. Wally doesn't really talk about the other two and I don't ask." 

Garfield groaned. "Why the hell not? Your friend is the drummer for a hot girl band and you don't ask about their relationship status, or what their real names are?"

"No I don't because that's weird and I'm sure he's told me their names, I just don't remember right now. Not like you'd have a shot with them."  The three men laughed at Garfield's expense and he crossed his arms and pouted.

"I don't see a line of girls wanting to dance with you Kent." 

"It doesn't bother me all that much Logan. Plus, I came here to support my friend not hook up with some random chick."

"Ugh you guys are all lame. I'm heading back out there. This band is playing music more my speed." Gar grounded out and spun on his heel, disappearing into the sea of bodies. 

"Good job Con, you made him all grumpy. Now I gotta calm him down." Garth grabbed his beer and followed his friend.

Tim was now reminded of why he was hesitant to come tonight. He wasn't the best of friends with Garth and Garfield and he came solely because of the desperate plea of Connor. He looked over to the stage and saw the main band playing their hearts out, music blaring over the speakers in an uptempo beat. Although it was more along the lines of typical club music, he found he preferred the darker melodies of Nevermore. 

"Yo buddy! Where'd that big brain of yours disappear to?" Connor waved his hand in front of his face dizzying him for a second. Tim reached and snatched Connor's arm to stop him and dropped it once his motion stilled.

"Sorry, I was just trying to remember something. How are you doing? Enjoying yourself?" 

"Yeah it's great. Awesome way to celebrate getting our degrees. I wish I had someone a little more special with me though, better company than those two numbskulls. How'd they graduate anyhow?" Connor took the seat the Garth vacated and spun facing the bar.

"Well, shockingly, Garth is actually pretty smart and Gar just copies off him when he can. He certainly didn't graduate magna cum laude." The two shared a laugh, lightening the mood once more. "You'll get that someone soon. Why don't you go back out there and see if she's there?"

"I feel like my soulmate isn't dancing in a club right now. I wouldn't be if my good friend wasn't playing for a big audience tonight."

"Fair enough. His band was really good. Do they play often?"

"At smaller venues yeah. I'm sure they'll be playing more here though, if any of the guys have anything to say about it." Connor smiled as if replaying a fond memory. "What do you think about Raven and Argent?"

"They're cool, great voices and Argent is amazing on the keyboard. How she keeps track of all the sounds is beyond me."

Connor let out a lighthearted chuckle. "I meant as attractive women, not their talents. Dork."

"Oh, yeah they're attractive."

"Wow, you're just not into this dude talk are you?" Connor swiveled to face him.

"I'm sorry, what am I supposed to say? I'm not going to sit here and objectify them." Tim looked seriously into his glass. It wasn't his intention to ruin the fun but he wasn't a fan of talking about his romantic interests, it felt too personal even though Connor was his best friend. 

"Sorry Tim. I didn't mean to offend you, just dumb guy stuff. I guess I've been hanging out with Gar squared too much." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Damn Tim really had a way with being a downer.

"Nah, it's all good. I think I'm just constantly in my head too much. Gotta be professional all the time and all that jazz." 

"Yeah man, well I'm gonna check on those idiots. Try to relax and have fun." Connor stood up and began to move before Tim stopped him.

"For what it's worth, I think Raven is the hottest. Her voice is positively sinful." Tim smirked at him and Connor's eyes widened as if Tim had spilt some highly classified secret. 

"There you go man! Hey maybe I can see if Wally can hook us up with a meet and greet." He winked and came back toward Tim to clap him on the shoulder. He started walking backwards toward the mass of people dancing to the music while pointing at Tim and sending him a knowing wink again. Tim just shook his head and laughed. 

[siren-of-redriver96]

A hearing (fanfiction)

Status: completed Chapter: 2/4 Words: 3223

Characters: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Newt Scamander, Tina Goldstein, Jacob Kowalski, Yusuf Kama, Nagini, Theseus Scamander, Torquil Travers, Arnold Guzman (Rudolph Spielman briefly)

Theme: crime (court scene)

Tags: spoilers for The Crimes of Grindelwald Summary: Harry and his friends visit a memory of a court session at the ministry, post the incidents of Paris 1927

Note: continuation of my previous one-shot “Observation”. This fanfiction is based solely on assumptions, theories and headcanons, not canon info about the characters or the plot of the actual negotiations leading up to the next movie - still I hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 4: https://siren-of-redriver96.tumblr.com/post/636306987335974913/a-hearing-fanfiction

Chapter 3: https://siren-of-redriver96.tumblr.com/post/636043018506534912/a-hearing-fanfiction

Chapter 1: https://siren-of-redriver96.tumblr.com/post/635118820992925696/a-hearing-fanfiction

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The smile of man with the moustache fell from his face like a stone, and he looked at the jury with utter terror. Mr. Scamander nodded at him encouragingly however, and the dark eyed woman now briefly pressed his hand. From her other side, Mr. Scamander whispered something to him.

“This situation is partly outside of this ministry’s governance.” Travers explained, turning to the jury.

“Mr. Guzman, as ambassador of the wizarding administration in the united states of america, you have the word.”

The dark skinned man with the moustache got up, smiling at Jacob friendlily. “Mr. Kowalski, first of all: I’d like to apologize on account of the MACUSA for the trouble you’ve suffered through the actions of a witch from our country… our ministry, even. To our understanding, you have been thoroughly informed about the laws concerning no-mages in the United States?”

Mr. Kowalski nodded sadly. “Very much, sir. And … “ he hesitated. “I … I’d like to say something too, if I may. About Que- Miss Goldstein. Before anything happens to me.”

Mr. Guzman observed him for a moment, then agreed. “We will hear you.”

Mr. Kowalski got up. “Look – I know I actually got ... have no business here. And usually, I wouldn’t mind … I’m not someone who seeks trouble without need.”

A sound from the end of the row interrupted him, but Mr. Scamander turned it into a cough quickly.

“I think you can imagine most of what I want to say, about Queenie not being a bad person … actually one of the best I’ve ever had the luck to meet, and you really can ask anyone who’s ever met her about that, so, I won’t waste your time … but she did part of what she did because of me. Because she loves me … hard to believe that is, I know.” he chuckled. “Still don’t really know what she sees in me, but … that’s not the only thing.”

He swallowed. “That guy, Grindelwald … he showed us what he said was the future … another world war … and I think Queenie joined him to prevent that too.” He sighed. “I’ve seen a war, and since 1918, she’s seen many memories of it … she just wants to help. And before you do anything, I’d like to know what your plans are when it comes to that “vision”, as he called it. If it really was one.”

Mr. Guzman and his colleagues seemed surprised. Only Mr. Scamander reacted differently – he made a gentle hand gesture to Kowalski, signalling him not to continue.

“We do not know if it was. Grindelwald accordingly can and will do anything to draw people to his cause.”Mr Guzman explained. “In addition - how to react to the wars of muggles is a difficult and controversial subject, Mr. Kowalski. There is an ongoing debate on whether we should intervene or not, and if, to what degree.” Mr. Scamander nodded once, absently. “And all related discussions require entire court sessions on their own, as you may understand.”

Mr. Kowalski looked at him for a moment, then back at Mr. Scamander, who briefly shook his head.

“Yes, sir. ‘t was just a question. I’ll … still help to fight him, if I can. And … my fiancée, if necessairy.” He wiped his eyes briefly.

“We’ll see what can be done.” Mr. Guzman said. “You are an informant about the subject Miss Golstein, after all. And, as Mr. Scamander may have informed you, in grave danger.”

Kowalski nodded slowly - paling. “I’m aware. But he said I’ll be protected... right?” he asked - his voice pitching a tad.

Guzman sighed. “Yes. You’d be to return to New York, obliviated, and then put under surveillance for 24 hours a day. Under usual circumstances.”

Kowalski didn’t miss the last point by a bit. “Wha-what do you mean?”

The others in the row stared at the jury as well. Mr Scamander leaned forward, looking at his brother inquiringly.

“We’ve had a session last night only concerning your case.” Mr. Guzman explained. “Discussing your engagement – and I’d like to ask you a question from your testimony: do you think your fiancée would have you with her at any cost?”

Kowalski opened his mouth, then closed it again – but then agreed. “Well, yeah… but any cost, I wouldn’t say that … but I think she wants me with her, yes. Badly.”

Mr. Guzman sighed. “So do we. And we believe Grindelwald will grant her this favour. In my experience, abductions are usually carried out before the other side can prepare. And though we do believe you when you say that Miss Goldstein thoroughly lacks criminal energy, we believe she may overestimate Grindelwald’s mercy when it comes to non-magic people. Furthermore – if she is, potentially, as likely to consider our side as you say, you would be at danger to be turned into a hostage to keep her in line.”

Kowalski gulped. “I … yeah, I see that, sir.”

“So, your memories are safe. For now.”

He blinked – trying to process this. “Er… thank you, sir.” But the tension went neither from him nor from the rest of the row.

“And considering the current circumstances – mainly how Grindelwald has recently decimated the british auror’s division … “

Mr. Scamander’s hands shook a little on the table, but he nodded to Guzman’s look.

“… the MACUSA has agreed that, where we can save our staff for this fight, we must. Especially if there’s another solution we can agree to in this situation.” His smile returned a little. “Mr. Scamander here, has genuinely volunteered to provide your protection personally.”

The tension went out the entire row in what felt like a huff. They stared at the auror, as he got up again.

“My apartment is shielded with every protective magic in use nowadays, ancient and new. You’ll be save there … and if someone should try to get in, we will be there within seconds.” He explained.

“But someone’s gonna come for me eventually, right?” Kowalski asked, a little concerned.

Mr. Scamander sighed. “We’ll be ready for them. And you won’t be harmed, I promise. Take it as a formal vow. I’ll protect your life with my own.”

Kowalski stared at him for a long moment, then laughed a little. “Alright ... thank you… “ his eyes dwelled up. “So I’ll stay in London.”

Mr. Scamander looked at his brother – who, as Harry noticed, seemed close to tears as well. “You’ll stay in London, Mr. Kowalski. Until further notice, you are to.”

He looked at Mr. Guzman. “Everything else we’ll get when we get there.”

“Indeed. And if it is that important to you, you may, in capable company to assure your safety, formally apply for british citizenship and, once the war is over, start a new life by your wishes. We’re not in the position to forbid you. Any further questions?”

Kowalski had blushed, and his he briefly held onto his head. A tear ran down his cheek.

“No, no sir. I’m fine.”

“Very well. For the record –“

But his conclusion was slightly interevend by a supressed sniff from the end of the row.

Harry turned and saw that the second Mr. Scamander had his face halfly hidden in his hand. His eyes were swimming, as were the ones of the woman next to him, though she smiled, watching him from the side.

“Oh, hey… pal…”

Kowalski quickly pulled a tissue from the front pocket of his suit.

“Thank you …” his friend whispered, taking it and drying his eyes quickly. “I’m sorry…” he said, breathing steadily. “It’s great news.” He finally beamed at Kowalski.

“Right?” He said, sitting back down. “Can’t believe it.”

“Do you need a moment?” his brother called lowly from the rank when Mr. Guzman was done.

“No, no … it’s all right, go on.” He waved off slightly, wrapping himself tighter in his coat, but still smiling over to his friend.

Travers didn’t wait much longer.

“To our next case - Miss Porpentina Goldstein.” Guzman said.

The woman next to Mr. Scamander turned her deep eyes to the jury – they, effortlessly, matched the lack of being impressed of Travers’ but her cheeks, her mouth, remained gentle, polite.

“We had the chance to talk about a few points already in the previous night – and two hours ago, I spoke to the ministry in America about your actions.”

She nodded slowly, but her left foot tapped a bit.

“As you may have expected, besides an already sceduled questioning concerning the actions of your sister, they had to react to your unpermitted actions in Paris.” He said. “Your undisclosed mission yet has been weighed against your part in the battle at Pere Chamaise, and the saving of Mr. Kowalski’s life - and the MACUSA is, considering the current situation, willing to give you a fair process – however, it is my understanding that you don’t wish to return to our ministry?”

“Indeed, sir.” Miss Goldstein got up – elegantly, and yet firm … Harry had almost forgotten that she was as tall as the two Scamanders – and when meeting the jury’s eyes, she seemed to tower even higher.

“I will make my case to the ministry, and my department. I’ll accept every condition, as well as any penalty for my actions. But then, given the chance, I will resign.”

Mr. Guzman’s brows rose. “I see you stand by your decision – I’m afraid we haven’t gone over the full reasoning for this, however. We will hear you.”

She stilled for a moment, then began.

“I’ve been working for the MACUSA for six years now. I supported our policy of secrecy, even though I was born halfblood, and most people wouldn’t hear about my parents. I’ve tried to convince myself that our way wasn’t wrong, and yet struggled – but wanted to be allowed to continue helping people. Even when denied in Credence Barebone’s case. Even afterwards, I ... followed the rules.” She cleared her throat.

“I want to continue to do so, don’t get me wrong – I will fight Grindelwald, and … Credence, if necessairy.” She firmed. “But I can’t execute the policy in America any longer. Not with a good conscience.”

With a slight gasp from the audience, she stepped over to Mr. Kowalski and put a hand on his shoulder. “My sister” she began, her eyes swimming, but she went on “my sister saw something in this man she had never, or not nearly as much, seen in a wizard. She fell in love with him, and her greatest wish was a marriage. Not any kind of destruction or harm to people. A marriage.” Mr. Kowalski looked at his feet. “He said that anyone who’s ever met her will tell you this, and I’ve known her longer than anyone: she’s not a bad person. As much as many people who join Grindelwald, she acted out of despair. To protect people from the war she saw, and to be allowed to marry the man who would treat her the best.”

She swallowed hard, and her voice quivered as she continued. Only slightly, though. “I defended the MACUSA, this policy, against her. My only family. For a ministry that would not allow her to even speak to a man whom she knew would be good to her – under threat of a prison sentence, that is – and one which would even, and tell me if I’m wrong, actively begin to question if a relative of her was adequate to work in their law enforcement.”

Mr. Guzman blinked once. His face was neutral, but he was listening.

Miss Goldstein rose to her full height once more, and Harry could feel it throughout the room.

“This policy will drive more people into Grindelwald’s arms, Mr. Guzman. An army of people who feel treated unjustly is on the way already, and we must stop as many of them as we can. And one is, and I will repeat this before American judges too, to finally agree with experts from around the world - who say that, if the wizard society is to maintain, marrying just among ourselves will be our end.”

A few angered murmurs crossed her last line, but it had been heard. Near Harry yet, Mr. Scamander nodded at her.

“I’m afraid just the two of us won’t be able to convince the MACUSA to reconsider their ways, Miss Goldstein.” Mr. Guzman said after a small pause.

“I’m aware.” She responded, sadly. “I can only make my case and then become someone elses’ issue. But, be sure, that I intend to remain Grindelwald’s.”

He actually smiled at this. She rose her chin slightly, and next to her, Harry noticed that Mr. Scamander was practically frozen in place – looking at her with eyes full of awe, fascination – even seeming to breath lower to not interrupt her stand one bit.

Harry chuckled at this – only for a moment. He could think of a few moments when must have looked at Ginny exactly like him.

“We know you will.” Mr. Guzman said. “There have been three sessions concerning your case – whether you could be of help, as you’ve been informed, last night, and we’ve come to agree that your allegiance is more than clear. Mr. Scamander” he looked at the man next to him “in particular has pointed out that, in almost all of your actions he was informed about throughout the testimonies, you have acted in the best interest of humans. He compared your … spirit, to the one for which him and a few of his colleagues are being honoured by the ministry, and the wizard community. And to waste such and your abilities to unemployment, especially now, would be more than unwise, even if he agreed that you’d continue to fight in this war.”

She looked to him, and they exchanged a gentle smile.

“In relation to this, I do have a question.” He fetched a paper from his bag via wand. “Concerning the incidents at the French ministry - I’d like to know how you managed to simply tie the head auror of this ministry to a chair.”

Next to her, Mr. Scamander snorted. She send him a short, disapprooving look, and he cleared his throat quickly. The audience began to whisper again.

“I … simply defended myself, sir. And his brother.” She stated. “There was no – actual fight.”

Mr. Scamander cleared his throat again softly, but didn’t make her turn around this time.

“She did valiantly.” Agreed Mr. Scamander next to Guzman, politely, unimpressed by his brother’s reaction. “Her curriculum continues to speak for her, sir. I think the least we can do is consider her application, the offer of her help. And … perhaps it’s time to be frank.” He looked around the ranks. “I’m afraid there is no time to run a normal application process to … restaff the auror’s office.” He swallowed slightly, but stayed composed. “I would like to sonly employ people that I can trust, especially when it comes to Grindelwald. And she has proven herself as much as Mr. Kama.” He looked at Mr. Guzman, then Mr. Travers. “I was employed as someone who has seen a war, and can adapt during extreme circumstances. We’ve entered one, and I hope that you continue to trust my decisions.”

Travers blinked once, then turned to the row below again. His face remained stern, but he didn’t disagree.

“We all do, I think.” Mr. Guzman agreed. “One more question before we move on, Miss Goldstein.”

“Yes?” she seemed surprised.

“Concerning the subject Barebone.”

Her face fell a little. “I’m listening.”

He fixated at her for a long moment. “We’ve taken note that he reacts positively to your presence. And that you aim to protect him.”

She remained silent.

“But his execution is in the interest of the wizarding community. Can we trust in that you will not intervene in the future? That you will accept his fate?”

Miss Goldstein looked at him for a long moment. Seconds passed, and Harry had almost begun to worry from the silence when she said.

“I will.”

He studied her face. “You will what, factually?”

“I will not intervene in his execution.” She said, almost mechanically, not breaking eye contact with him.

“I will stand down.”

Her eyes seemed to grow darker with sorrow. He wondered if someone else could see it.

Mr. Guzman didn’t seem entirely convinced, but didn’t ask furtherly.

“Very well.” He let the paper he was still holding disappear. “For the record: Miss Porpentina Esther Goldstein will attend the court hearings concerning her case at the holding of the Magical Congress of the United States of America in New York. Ensuing the results of said process, her application to the British ministry of magic and her offer of help to the hunt for Grindelwald will be considered. Do you agree, Mr. Travers?”

The man at the head podium let a few moments pass, then agreed. “Her application will be considered.”

And though he seemed to begrudge this decision, Harry was sure that she would be accepted sonly.

“However, the MACUSA’s head administration has argued that we still are to take action to ensure that, until your process before a court in New York, nothing will go … out of hand again, and Mr. Travers welcomed our presumed step – he would like to see you, upon a possible employment, earn his trust as an ally. According to Mr. Scamander, you’ve been informed of the condition?”

“Yes. And I accept it.” She said, honestly. He nodded in agreement, despite not seeming any content with the decision.

“Very well. Due to our current schedule, I’ve been charged with this responsibility until we arrive at the auror’s division back in the states, where it will be transferred to the new director of law enforcement.”

He fetched his wand.

“Raise your hands, please.”

She did, elegantly, without even a blink.

A pair of broad silver braces appeared on her wrists.

“The braces inform us of all the magic you practise.” He explained – almost apologetically. “But you have come across their use in your job before, as I’m aware.”

“That is true.” She said. Then added gentlily to him, and Mr. Travers. “I thank you for this chance. I will not misuse it.”

“Take note of that, for the record.” Mr. Travers said. “And of the surveillance of her magic in Britain until further notice by me, personally.”

She nodded – at the jury too, then took a seat once more. Mr. Scamander returned her look, even shook his head slightly, but she managed a smile at him, pointedly ease wrapping her shirt and coat sleeves above the braces as she crossed her legs once more.

“Now, to our last case” Travers said, and his eyes focussed strangely dire at the last man in the row, who looked back at him – and though his face remained very neutral, Harry felt like the slightest tad of defiance lay across his freckled face.

to be continued

______________________________________________________________

[crystaljins]

Take a chance. | 02

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word count: 7.3K

Synopsis:   You should have known the second your business partner asked you to plan his best friend’s wedding as a favour that it was going to be nothing but trouble. Especially when it turns out he’s in love with said best friend. And dying of a deadly disease because of it.

Hanahaki!au

Notes: The first three parts of this fic went through at least three different drafts. I changed the approach and character features so many times that this story isn’t even recognisable from the initial draft. But, once I added ma boi Kim Seokjin, this story finally hit a place that I felt I could happily write. 

Warnings: Angst. Graphic depictions of vomiting. Mentions of illness and death.

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

“Thank you for meeting with me today.” The man says as he slides into his seat. He’s wearing dark sunglasses that obscure most of his face and a black bucket hat is pulled low over his brows. Perhaps he is trying to be inconspicuous, but the large trench coat and obvious attempt to conceal his identity just make him seem more suspicious. Not only that, the price tags hanging off his outfit clearly show that he’d only just bought them.

“What are you doing, Jin? Why’d you call me out here?” Seri hisses. She pauses to smile warmly at the waiter who hands her an ice latte topped with perhaps more whipped cream than is strictly necessary before turning back to her obnoxious co-worker. “Why are you dressed… like that?”

“So that I don’t attract attention to myself. Obviously.” Jin scolds. He leans forward to sniff suspiciously at his milkshake before reaching into a pocket in his trench coat and pulling out a large swirly straw. It’s infuriatingly childish. He glances side to side before placing it in his glass and taking a long sip.

“I’m going home.” Seri snaps, making to get up, but an arm shoots out and holds her in place.

“I’m sorry! I’ll be serious.” He promises, even as he takes another sip from the milkshake through the ridiculous straw. He does remove his sunglasses, though. “This is a matter that concerns not just you and me, but Jungkook and our… beloved… boss.” He begins to tear up at the final person on the list, and dabs awkwardly at the corner of his eyes. “We have to help her.”

“Help her what?” Seri questions, attention grabbed. Where her boss is involved, she is all ears. After all, you had given her a job when she’d been unemployed and desperate. And she’s determined to pay that back by being the best employee she could possibly be.

“Help her with her illness.” He confesses gravely. Seri’s eyes go wide as her mind scans through the long list of illnesses her beloved boss could possibly be suffering from. “She’s suffering from Hanahaki.”

The deathly silence that follows is testament to how much both workers care for their boss. The colour drains from Seri’s face while Jin looks down and another tear trails down his face.

“How… how can you be sure?” Seri breathes. Jin shakes his head gravely.

“Do you remember a couple of weeks ago when I lost that bet and had to take garbage out for a week?” Jin asks. Seri nods contemplatively as she remembers the event in question.

“You bet you could down 2 L of milk in one go but ended up spraying it out your nose all over Jungkook’s desk.” She recalls. He nods gravely.

“Well, I kind of tripped when I was getting close to the garbage and the whole garbage bag split open.” He explains. He pauses mid-explanation to take another unnecessarily long sip of his milkshake, one that has Seri twitching in dread and anticipation as she waits for him to finish his story. “And there were these red rose petals everywhere.”

Seri nods, but then frowns.

“But what does that have to do with (Y/N)? We sometimes get petals in or bouquets as samples for future decorations and two weeks ago she was doing that red themed wedding.” Seri points out. Jin nods solemnly.

“Well that’s why I didn’t think anything of it at the time. It wasn’t until yesterday, when (Y/N) brought up Hanahaki and was super shifty and blatantly lying about why it was on her mind that I got suspicious.” Jin admits. “So that night I went home and rang her brother, because he’s actually a doctor who specialises in treating Hanahaki. Just to ask some questions, but he was surprised and thought that maybe someone from our office was suffering from it, because (Y/N) had rung him too,asking about it right before me.”

“That is very suspicious.” Seri admits, and the evidence is starting to stack up. But there’s one vital piece of information she needs to believe Jin. “But who is she in love with, that doesn’t love her back? And how can we help her?”

Jin smiles widely and leans back in his chair.

“I was hoping you’d ask me that, dear, sweet, naïve Seri.” He tells her warmly, and all traces of his earlier tears have vanished from his face. “It’s none other than our resident space cadet, Jeon Jungkook.” He announces with all the dramatic flair of an actor presenting Best Picture at the Oscars. Seri grimaces.

“Jungkook?” She questions incredulously. Up until that point, Jin’s theory had sounded plausible but now it just sounds ridiculous. “You think she’s in love with Jungkook? The same guy I caught trying to sneak in a new printer without her noticing last week because he spilt banana milk on the old one?”

Jin nods, as if it is the most logical and reasonable conclusion to draw in the world.

“Well, not to be presumptuous, but yes. Can you think of anyone else? Also, haven’t you always been suspicious of the fact that they literally built a business from the ground up together and yet there’s nothing there?” Jin points out. Seri seems surprised.

“Why would starting a business together mean there has to be something romantic between them?” She responds. Jin looks mildly astonished before understanding sets in his expression.

“Ah, I forgot you’ve only been here a couple of months. Yes, Jungkook and (Y/N) started this business together. It was probably like… five years ago? They’d been running for about two years when that video of that wedding she organised went viral and then they hired me to handle the extra clientele that came in, so that sounds about right.” Jin says, launching into an explanation. “But their whole story is fresh out of a romcom- (Y/N) met him after her fiancée dumped her for dropping out of some sort of prestigious uni degree or something at some bar and he had some sad backstory as well that I can’t remember and encouraged her to follow her dreams. And then he ran into her again and helped her get her first client and then after two years of struggling to make ends meet that video went viral and here we are today, successful and happy. How can there be nothing after all of that?” He explains. Seri wrinkles her nose- despite her short amount of time working at this firm, she knows enough of the story to know Jin is butchering the story a lot.

What had actually happened, was that you taken a year off law school when your mother’s health had started to decline. Your brother had been forced to financially support the two of you by working ludicrous hours while you cared for her physical needs. Your fiancée, unable to cope with the emotional strain such an event had put on the relationship, coupled with the lack of time that came with caring for a sick relative, had left you. In the end, you had wound up working at a bar and unable to bring yourself to go back to law school after your mother passed away. The very same bar that Jungkook happened to frequent. After confiding in the sad, unemployed drunk boy you thought wasn’t listening over a period of time about your heartbreak and your desire to go into wedding planning instead of law school, it turned out he had been listening. Not only that, but he had a proposal for you- he, a business major, and you, a wedding planner, could start a business together. That way you wouldn’t have to go back to law school, and he would no longer be unemployed and nearly homeless. At least, that’s what she’d been able to glean from snippets of conversation she’s had with the both of you over the past couple of months.

Still, even though his story is still warped the original point still stands: Jungkook is clearly someone who matters to you, a lot. Yes, it was the video that went viral that made your business successful but you wouldn’t have even started this business without Jungkook. Jin makes a compelling argument- the coincidental timing of your chosen conversation topic the day before, and Jin happening to find the rose petals… it is all very shifty. Even Seri has to admit that.

But Jin isn’t done, and his next piece of evidence is perhaps the nail in the coffin.

“And she asked me this morning to start preparing a job ad for a new assistant. She said Jeon Jungkook is officially taking leave as of today- that’s why he didn’t show up and why we were flat out all day.” Jin points out urgently. “And I left my wallet in my car this morning and just so happened to be ducking down to get it, when I saw Jungkook’s car pulling out of the building. Which means he came in to work today! And when I watched the CCTV footage to check-“

“Woah, woah, woah, Jin!” Seri cuts him off in protest. “We aren’t criminal detectives! You can’t just watch CCTV footage of your boss because you want to-“

“That’s not important. What’s important is they had some sort of fight this morning and clearly, it’s because (Y/N) is in love with Jungkook, is dying of Hanahaki and we need to make Jungkook fall for her or we could lose our jobs. And the nicest boss anyone has ever had.” He exclaims, almost out of breath from his rant. Seri blinks. She wants to disagree. She really does. She wants to write Jin off as crazy and perhaps report him to you.

But… what if he’s right? What if you’re dying because your airheaded assistant doesn’t reciprocate your feelings? If he’s right, then they have to help you! She bites her lip contemplatively.

“Why can’t she just get treatment? We could sit her down and encourage her to see a doctor- isn’t her brother a leading specialist in the disease?” Seri points out. Jin shoots her a look like she’s just made the stupidest suggestion in the world.

“Don’t you know what treatment involves? It makes you forget the person who gave you Hanahaki forever. If she forgot Jungkook how can they run this business together?” He cries out. Seri is pretty sure she read something somewhere, back when she was researching the disease for herself that said that the ‘forget your love’ aspect of Hanahaki is just an urbanised myth and only the most severe cases of Hanahaki that have gone untreated for years require such dramatic action, and even those have been able to be successfully treated with just therapy in certain patients, but Jin sounds so convinced and sure of his words that it makes her doubt herself.

“What... what would you have us do?” She asks, rather than contradict what he just said. She cringes as she says the words because she knows she may regret this strongly depending on what Jin asks.

He merely grins.

“I’m glad you asked, dear Seri, because I already have a mastermind plan in place…”

++

“Yes, I understand that you want all black for your decorations,” You say, desperately clinging on to your patience. “But black roses aren’t really a thing. If you just agreed to the black baccara roses-“

“They’re still red.” Your client on the other end of the phone sniffs. “I want black.”

“Then having them painted is your best option.” You retort. “I told you I’d do my best to give you the wedding of your dreams but I’m not a miracle worker- you can’t grow black roses!”

“Please? It’s really important to us.” He begs. You dig your fingers into the bridge of your nose and sigh.

“I’ll see if I can speak to some plant breeders and see if we can get something closer to black.” You say with a sigh. “That’s the best I can do.”

You don’t hear whatever he says because you are distracted by the presence of Jungkook leaning awkwardly against the door to your apartment. When he spots you, his whole face lights up and he straightens. You wince as he waves enthusiastically. He’s not in his usual crumpled suit- instead he’s wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of trackpants and he hasn’t even attempted to tame his wild mop of hair. Oddly, he looks amazing in the casual, comfortable look he’s going for.

“You’re here!” He greets. You watch him cautiously like he is a furious bull that may charge at any moment.

“It’s my apartment. Where else would I go?” You point out. “Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”

He nods sheepishly.

“Well… I did take the day off.” He admits. “But I thought you might have had a long day without me, what with no one to replace the vital work that I do, so I brought some supplies.”

You stiffen. You have had a long day, and that is to be expected when you force your business partner to take an unplanned leave.  To be honest, you aren’t even sure what half of Jungkook’s duties are. You’ve just always done your thing, talking to clients, make plans, connecting with people, and then at the end you’d have money in your bank account. Jungkook has always handled your marketing and connecting clients and managing appointments while keeping the office running smoothly. Without him, you’d had to answer phones, contact the accountant and fill out complex paperwork between and in the middle of appointments with. Seokjin and Seri had done their best to share the load but even they’d felt the strain by the end of the day.

“I’m not changing my mind, if that’s why you’re here.” You sniff, stepping passed him to unlock the door. He presses in close and follows you into your apartment even though he is not welcome. He looks around curiously as soon as he steps passed the threshold of your home.

“This is a really lovely place.” He compliments sincerely- it should be surprising that this is the first time he’s ever step foot in your apartment considering the fact that you’ve been running a business with him for five years now. Even Seri, who has only been working with you for a couple of months, has visited your home before. But before this whole wedding debacle, Jungkook had always refused. He sidles past you and sets a plastic bag up on the countertop in your kitchen. He glances back at you before rummaging inside. “I realised I have no idea what you like to eat, so I read that interview you did with that bridal magazine a few months ago.” He says, and then he pulls out a block of chocolate, some grapes and a bottle of wine. You squint suspiciously at them.

“Jungkook…” You say slowly, about to ask him to leave your home and take the food with them. Yes, they were all guilty pleasures of yours, but you weren’t about to give him false hope that you would rescind your decision. “I’m not going to plan the wedding.” Is what you say instead.

He ignores you, turning to a cupboard and pulling out two wine glasses. He sets them on the counter and immediately begins pouring out the wine. Then he leans against the countertop beside you and sighs heavily, as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders.

“Why?” He finally asks. He takes a long sip of his own glass, sliding yours toward you. Hesitantly, you accept and settle into a stool next to the counter. “It’s not going to stop the wedding. It’s not going to cure me. And I’ll still be involved in the wedding whether you plan it or not. What do you think you’re achieving by refusing?”

You stare down at the ruby liquid in the glass- your distorted reflection glares back. He’s right. You’re not achieving anything. You’re just sticking your head in the sand and pretending Jungkook’s situation isn’t happening until it magically fixes itself. But that’s all you really can do, right? You can’t force him to get treatment and you can’t make his best friend love him back. These are all doubts that plague you, but if you are anything, it is stubborn. Your blood runs hot with anger at the way he’s trying to pressure you into something you’ve already decided not to do.

“Why are you so desperate for me to plan this wedding anyway?” You question, hopping off the stool and edging closer until he is pressed against the kitchen counter. At this proximity you can count each of his individual lashes and feel the way his breath has become shallower and hesitant. It’s out of anger that you press closer. You’re trying to intimidate him into backing off and leaving you to deal with the consequences of your decision in peace. His eyes flash at the challenge though.

“Why are you so determined to refuse?” He retorts. “Up until the engagement party, you were all for planning this wedding! What, suddenly things get a teensy bit more complicated and you’re out?”

“Finding out my business partner is dying from a curable illness is not a “teensy bit more complicated”, Jungkook!” You cry, the volume of your voice escalating. Any louder and your neighbours will probably call the cops on you. “Why aren’t you taking this seriously?”

“I am taking this seriously!” Jungkook shouts. It’s the first time in all the years that you’ve known him that you’ve ever seen him lose his temper. His whole face goes bright red and the tendons in his neck strain with the force of his shout. “That’s all I’ve been doing! Every, single, damn day, all I can think about is how hard this is! You think I want to be sick? You think I want to be here, begging my boss to plan the wedding for the girl that I love? Why do you have to fight me at every single step- why can’t you just do me this one favour? All I’m asking you to do is to plan a wedding for a friend and turn a blind eye when you see I’m having a hard time- is that so hard to do?”

“Yes.” You breathe, and your eyes have watered and filled with tears at his words. “I don’t want to have to watch your heart break.” You finally admit. Because that’s the real reason. You can’t stop the fast approaching train-wreck that Jungkook has managed to lock himself into. But you sure as hell don’t have to watch it happen. “I don’t want to watch you slowly die.”

Your admission is met with silence and when you shoot a glance at Jungkook, he’s staring at you like you’ve grown a third eye. Abruptly he breaks eye contact and his shoulders hunch.

“Let me come back to work.” He says in a small voice. “I know you think you’re helping me, but you’re just leaving me at home alone with nothing to dwell on but the fact that I’m ill and…” His voice cracks. “That she…” He whirls around so that he’s no longer facing you and is unable to finish his sentence. He changes the subject. “Wow, I didn’t know my boss was so heartless,” He tries to joke, his tone falsely light, but his voice is still slightly shaky. “5 years together and you give me the axe just because I’m a little sick.” He shakes his head and makes a “tsk” sound. “Success has really changed you, (Y/N).”

You recognise now, that his attempt to joke around is his way of hiding, so you aren’t offended. Instead, getting slowly to your feet, you pack everything into the bag he brought with him and walk around the kitchen counter so that you’re facing him. He winces and looks towards the ceiling, perhaps to conceal the way his eyes are wet with tears and red-rimmed. Gently, you take his hand and place the handles of the plastic bag in it, wrapping his fingers around them.

“Jungkook.” You say softly. “I’m not doing this because I thought this would easy or because I don’t like you or because I think your job is replaceable or because I’m trying to punish you. I’m not doing it to make your life difficult. You’re sick, Jungkook, and sick people need rest.”

He stares at you with bewildered, pleading eyes. It is an exact repeat of earlier that morning when you had told him to take time off.

“There are other wedding planners.” You tell him gently. “She’ll live even if I don’t plan it for her.”

He stares down at the bag in his hand.

“But what if I… if she really wants you to do it?” He asks, even as he lets you guide him gently out the door. You don’t notice his slip.

“Well sometimes we don’t always get what we want Jungkook. But as your boss it’s my job to make sure you get what you need. And what you need is some time off.” You say. He seems to register he’s fighting a losing battle as the door swings shut- his hand flies out before you can fully close it.

“What would it take?” He pleads. “Hypothetically. If you could have anything in the world, what would it take for you to do this?”

You grimace.

“For you not to be sick.”

++

For all your bravado over forcing Jungkook to take leave, it really does make your life infinitely harder. Jungkook is a scatter-brain prone to double booking appointments and breaking expensive electronics, but his job really is irreplaceable- he hasn’t just been an assistant, or receptionist. His job was never as simple as answering phones and calling in the technician when he broke the printer yet again. He also managed the entire business side of things- from organising how much clients would pay for your services, to drafting contracts with them, to the entire marketing side of things, it had always been him to deal with that sort of thing. And it had been stupid and arrogant of you to think you could handle your regular duties on top of his. In your head, you had planned to look for a temporary replacement to work for maybe a year while Jungkook sorted himself out, but you barely have time for your own job, let alone searching for a replacement and training them up on top of managing Jungkook’s duties in the mean time. You’ve really screwed yourself over with such a hasty decision.

Your employees are quick to vocally and aggressively remind you of what a mistake it is to have put Jungkook on leave.

“My keyboard still doesn’t work.” Jin sniffs at you in the kitchenette, repeatedly dunking a bag of chamomile tea aggressively into a mug of boiling water. “I thought you said you were looking into fixing that! I can’t type anything and I’ve had two brides organising a wedding and a mother organising a first birthday party call me in tears because I didn’t answer their emails.”

“Well, you didn’t have to spill orange juice on it now, did you?” You almost snarl- you find your temper becoming shorter and shorter the more stressed and tired you are. It’s getting to the point that you’re hardly getting any sleep at night because you’re essentially doing two full time jobs at once. Jin’s eyebrows fly up, seeming to sense that you’re on the verge of snapping at him, and holds two hands up in a gesture of surrender.

“I’m sorry- It was an accident. But it’s really very urgent.” He tells you, and he sounds apologetic enough that you take a deep breath to release the tension built up in your shoulders and neck.

“I know. I’m sorry for getting short with you- I am trying to sort it out. I just have a lot on my plate at the moment.” You admit, and you feel on the verge of tears. Jin’s expression softens at your wobbly tone and he comes to stand next to you, resting against the kitchenette counter.

“Maybe we should give Jungkook a call.” He suggests gently. You tense, about to scold him for such a suggestion, but he holds up a firm hand. “I don’t know what happened or why you put him on leave, but you’re really struggling. If he does need the leave, then at least keep him around until you find a proper replacement- doing two jobs at once like this isn’t sustainable.” He points out. You wince because if it weren’t for your own stubbornness, you probably would have done as much. But you can’t- your pride won’t let you. You’ve decided that Jungkook needs leave and so he’s getting leave. Even if it kills you in the process.

Jin isn’t the only one- later in the week Seri knocks on your door. She strides in without waiting for an answer and leans in close so the two clients across from you don’t hear what she says.

“I just got a call from the bank- apparently there was an issue with billing that florist we contracted. I took down their number for you to ring them when you’re done with your client.” She informs you, flicking a gaze at the two clients before you.

Her interruption, though bearing bad news, is welcome- she’s interrupted two clients on the verge of screeching at you in rage. There was a mix-up with the venue bookings that you forgot to sort out between the flurry of phone calls you’ve been heckled with all day and they are not pleased. You’re barely holding back frustrated tears while Seri watches on, uncertain how to handle the situation. You take a deep breath, summoning all the professionalism you can access and smile at her.

“I will have that sorted after I deal with these two clie-“ You begin, but they cut you off.

“Don’t bother!” The one on the right, a woman in her late thirties’, snarls. She’s clinging to her fiancé’s arm like a hole might open up beneath her and demons appear to drag her to the depths of hell if she lets go. “We came here because we’ve heard so many good things about your service, but clearly it was all just good marketing- we won’t be coming back.”

She gets abruptly to her feet and storms off, dragging her balding fiancé with her. You take a shaky breath and squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears not to come.

“Perhaps… I should call Jungkook? He’s really good with this kind of thing.” Seri suggests, and it’s so not the suggestion you need right now.

“Don’t.” You say. “My afternoon appointment just cancelled as you just saw- I’m free to speak with the bank right now.”

Your week carries on like that. You’re at your wits end by the time Friday comes around. You’ve promised yourself that you won’t do anything related to work for the entire afternoon. You’re going to ignore all the deadlines. Your business won’t crumble just because you took a Friday afternoon off, after all. At least that’s what you tell yourself as you take on your final task of the day- carrying a heavy box of fragile but expensive glasses that a client ordered in for clients to drink out of during their reception. You stagger as evenly as you can into the elevator and that’s when it happens- your heel snaps. It’s not a particularly high heel- just high enough that your ankle twists beneath you as it gives. You cry out, bracing yourself to crash to the floor and for the delicate goods you are carrying to shatter.

Only, it never comes. As you crumple to the ground, the weight of the box abruptly vanishes from your arms. Instead it is just you that hits the floor of the elevator with a pained grunt. Confused, you look up to find someone has grabbed the box from your arms before it could hit the floor with you and shatter all the contents inside.

“Are you ok?” Jungkook cries, gently setting down the box and crouching down before you. You’re so shocked that you are speechless. His large glasses are slightly lopsided on his face and he’s wearing a t shirt with a pair of ripped jeans. He’s not wearing the business attire that is required of all your employees- instead he’s dressed casually, like he didn’t plan on coming into the office today.

“W-what are you doing here?” You finally find your voice as he helps you to your feet. You wince as you attempt to press your weight into the foot with the broken heel and crumple back down- no doubt you sprained it on your way down. Jungkook’s eyes are wide with concern.

“Jin called me in for something urgent-“ He explains but he’s too distracted by your injury to provide the full story. “Did you hurt yourself?” He questions. You glance down at your leg- you move your ankle and wince when you find it too painful to rotate.

“Probably just a sprain.” You explain and he nods.

“I’ll help you, then,” He says quickly. “There’s a first aid kit in my office- or there was, if you haven’t cleaned it out yet.”

“Thank you.” You say quietly. “I haven’t touched your things. But you really shouldn’t be here-“

Your words are interrupted by the sudden flashing of the light in the elevator and a screeching noise.

The elevator is stuck.

++

“That’s your mastermind plan to help (Y/N)? Trapping them in an elevator together?” Seri sniffs, as she realises what Jin has done, watching Jungkook and her boss through the small security camera. They remain crouched down, close to the ground and she can’t see their expressions. “What if they get hurt?”

“Clearly you’ve never watched any kind of romcom ever, Seri.” Jin tuts. “This is a basic strategy- and this is just us getting started! Phase one! We just need to force them into the same space and hopefully the confined space will lead to them opening up! Besides, don’t act so surprised- there’s much more work we have to do than this before Jungkook-”

“Why did you agree to this?” She interrupts, directing her question to the elevator technician who has unscrewed the control panel and is fidgeting with the wires. He pauses, resting a hand on his chin as he contemplates the answer.

“For love.” He answers fondly. “But also, Seokjin here paid me $50 if I made sure they were trapped in an elevator together for the next twenty minutes.”

Seri whirls on Jin, the expression on her face utterly despairing.

“What… what else do you have planned?” She asks incredulously, pale and concerned for the wellbeing of not only her boss, but Jungkook as well. Jin considers her question for a moment, before shrugging.

“It’s a surprise.” He answers with a grin.

++

“How’s your ankle?” Jungkook asks awkwardly. For the past five minutes after ringing for help with the emergency button and being assured that the elevator technician was already working on it, the two of you had been sitting in a deathly silence. With Jungkook’s help, you had manoeuvred so that you now lean against the wall of the elevator, your sprained ankle stretched out in front of you. Your broken, useless heels are discarded in the corner. Your eyes are shut so that you don’t have to acknowledge his presence and can feign sleeping.

“The same as it was 5 minutes ago.” You answer, without opening your eyes. “Swollen. Painful. Will probably be better in a few days.”

You hear a tapping sound and know that Jungkook is probably bouncing his knee up and down. He has a lot of restless energy and a lot of pens have been dismantled at his desk from his fidgeting and a lot of office chairs have met their end because he’s constantly rocking back and forth. It’s a good indicator for when he’s about to strike up conversation- the noise stops, and he inhales like he’s formulating a question.

“How’s the office been?” He asks. “Without me? Is everyone coping alright?”

Not really. But you’re not about to tell him that.

“They’re fine. The others are urging me to find a replacement and I’m sure we’ll find one soon.” You say. Your sentences are clipped, and your tone isn’t unfriendly, but it isn’t exactly warm either. You’re trying to discourage conversation because if Jungkook inquires more into how your week played out, you may burst into tears. The last thing you want is for him to know what a hard time you are having without him.

He starts to whistle tunelessly, and the sound is annoying, but you don’t want to talk to him. At least he’s stopped asking you questions.

For about thirty seconds.

“What was in the box?” He asks. You open one eye to peer at him. He’s sitting cross-legged in front of you with his back slouched. He picks absently at his worn shoelaces on his crappy, frayed sneakers.

“Glasses. For a wedding I’m planning.” You say. He perks up at the mention of your business.

“Is this the couple who met at the Venetian Glass Blowing Factory?” He asks cheerfully. “I thought you didn’t have time to plan their wedding. How did you squeeze them in?”

You tense- you rang them up and offered your services since a lot of clients have cancelled on you this week following your subpar performance.

“I’ve had a few slots in my schedule clear up.” You admit through gritted teeth. Jungkook looks confused but then his eyes go round when he realises what you mean.

“Oh… that bad, huh?” He asks. He winces. “Not that I’m implying you’re bad! I just didn’t think people would cancel so quickly when-”

“When what, Jungkook?” You snap, patience lost. “When I’m essentially working two jobs? When I’ve been yelled at 32 times this week? When I’ve been getting approximately 4 hours sleep every night trying to organise all these events in between doing your job?”

“Well I didn’t ask to be on leave!” He retorts defensively. His eyebrows furrow together and his lips purse in a slight pout. “You’re the one who insisted I was unfit to work.”

“I know.” You snarl, and to your mortification, frustrated tears fill your eyes and blur your view of him. “I know I made you take leave! I know that everyone wants you back and this office is going insane without you!”

Jungkook’s jaw drops at your outburst but doesn’t interrupt as you continue your rant.

“I know your job is important and that it was going to be hard without you, but I was doing it for you! I wasn’t trying to fire you or spite you or punish you for being sick! I was only trying to help.” You’re full on sobbing now, but you’re so exhausted and emotional and the repressed emotions you’ve been pushing back for the past week are all bursting forth. “Is that so bad? Is it so terrible that I just wanted to look after my business partner? Why am I getting punished for doing the right thing?” You’re in full hysterics as Jungkook starts to panic, realising that he has no idea how to comfort you or calm you down.

“D-don’t cry!” He protests but it’s too late- it’s like a dam has been broken. All the stress, all the misery, all the overtime work has combined, and you feel like there’s an angry tornado of lava where your heart should be. “I know you were trying to help, and I’m really grateful for that- please don’t cry!”

He edges closer to you and doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he settles for resting them awkwardly on your shoulders. You stare up at him with teary eyes. You’re not a pretty crier by any definition- your eyes have gone puffy and your nose is running and were it any other situation he would have laughed at you. But he has at least enough sensitivity to know laughing at you now would be kicking you when you’re down. Instead he offers you an awkward smile, one that is little more than his cheeks raising and him baring his teeth in an almost-snarl.

You’re so confused at his peculiar expression that you actually stop sobbing. You squint at him for a moment, before a tear-y laugh breaks through your lips.

“What are you doing?” You ask, taking the lapse in your hysterics as an opportunity to wipe away the tears running down your cheeks. His expression softens.

“I’m smiling at you.” He explains. You snort incredulously.

“You look like you’re in pain.” You say. He chuckles awkwardly.

“Hey! I’m trying to make you feel better!” He protests jokingly, relieved that you’re at least no longer crying. You frown.

“By showing me what face you make when you’re constipated?” You suggest and he actually laughs.

“I mean, since that’s what stopped you crying, I’ll take it.” He volunteers. He takes his hands off your shoulders and slumps next to you, being mindful of your injured leg. “Hey.”

You turn to look at him.

“Hi.” You answer. His expression is warm and gentle as he volunteers his next words.

“I never thanked you.” He admits. “For caring so much. Enough to keep it a secret.” He confesses. “And for putting me on leave. I know… I know you were trying to help, and it feels good to know that you’ve got my back like that. So, thank you. So much.”

At his words, an odd, warm sensation blooms in your chest. This whole week all you’ve felt is stressed and guilty, questioning your decision and worrying about Jungkook’s health. But Jungkook’s gratitude is liberating- you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. He turns so that he’s staring straight into your eyes.

“And I know that you were only trying to help, and I’m really thankful for that but…” He trails away awkwardly and glances downwards. “But it wasn’t your call to make.” He admits. “I know you mean well, but it’s my decision on whether to get treatment, or whether to keep working, or whether or not to be involved with this wedding. You shouldn’t have taken that choice from me.”  

The truth of his words hits you like a bag of bricks and leaves you momentarily speechless. Because he has a point- even acting with his best interests in mind, he’s your co-worker. Not your friend or your family or your lover. He’s your equal business partner, capable of making adult decisions for himself. And by forcing him to go on leave, you took that choice away from him.

“As for the wedding… I won’t force you to do it or keep pestering you about it. I should have stopped when you first said no and respected that. That was wrong of me.” He says. “To be honest, I kept visiting you because I thought I could convince you. I didn’t even care how you were doing or whether you were coping- I just made all these excuses to see you so that I could convince you. And I realise now that’s a really awful way to be. You’re not just my boss or a machine that churns out people’s dream weddings. You’re a person who cares a lot about everyone she meets and I’m sorry for not recognising that.” He tells you. His cheeks are tinted slightly pink at his heartfelt confession, and your own cheeks burn too for some reason.

“The truth is… the truth is that Minah doesn’t want you to plan her wedding this much. Yeah, she liked that video of that wedding you did, but if I’d told her you said no, she would have just found someone else. It was me that was being insistent because I wanted someone on my side. You saw how I almost exposed myself at her engagement party… I felt like bringing another wedding planner into the mix is just one more person I have to hide from.” He slumps against the elevator wall and you take notice of the dark circles under his eyes, of his pale skin and his gaunt face… He’s lost even more weight since you made him take leave- earlier he was skinny but still looked healthy. Now he looks ashy and uncomfortable. At this rate he will wither away into nothing but skin and bones. Your heart aches for him again. “But when you found me… when you helped me and you didn’t tell anyone… I felt like I wasn’t alone for the first time in nearly a year. For the first time since Minah started dating Taehyung, probably. And I liked that feeling- I liked the idea of someone like you having my back. Someone who was strong and so determined that she literally built a business from the ground up, and you always call me your partner but really it was all you. And this whole thing with Minah has been so… hard. I thought… ‘maybe I could do it if she had my back.’” He squeezes his eyes shut and you notice the way a tear trickles down his cheek. His glasses nearly hide it but you’re watching him so carefully that you pick up on it.

“I’ll do it.” You don’t even realise you’ve said the words until he’s staring at you with wide, shocked eyes.

“What?” He asks. “Say that again?”

You blink, startled by your own compliance, but then you steel your gaze and make your decision.

“My brother’s a doctor who specialises in Hanahaki.” You say. “He said that if the doctors have already recommended hypnotherapy then conservative treatment probably can’t do much but it may slow the progression.” You explain. Jungkook is still staring at your with confused, round eyes. “If you promise to meet with him at least once a week for some conservative treatment and then you book in for proper treatment once the wedding is over… I’ll do it. I’ll plan her wedding.”

Jungkook’s whole face lights up and he grabs one of your hands, clasping it between your hands. His hands dwarf your own and you feel like he may break your bones with how tightly he is holding you.

“Really? You’d do that?” He asks, and the breathless excitement and relief in his voice almost makes it worth the stress that will no doubt come with agreeing.

“For you.” You clarify. “And only if you get treatment. If Namjoon tells me you’ve missed even one session, then I’m cancelling on her.” You warn. You look away awkwardly. “And I guess… if it means that much to you… you can come back to work. But you have to promise me that if you’re not feeling well you let me know, ok?”

“Deal!” Jungkook cries joyously, throwing his arms around you neck and pulling you in for a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you so much (Y/N)!  This really means so much to me. Thank you.”

And it is in that moment, with Jungkook squeezing you tightly to him like you’ll get up and sprint away if he lets go, that the elevator door starts up again like it was just waiting for the two of you to come to an agreement.

And if it’s suspicious that Jin and Seri are both anxiously waiting by the elevator doors on the fifth floor when they eventually slide open and release you, then neither you nor Jungkook notice it.

You’re both too distracted by the work you have ahead of you.

[allie1804-fan]

Please Assist Me (Chapter 21)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8,  Chapter 9, Chapter 10 , Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15 , Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20

Warnings :

He Said

It was a strange feeling going back to set when this utterly momentous thing had happened.  I felt untethered and for the first time in a long, long time, worried about my focus. I’d had a stressful time over 20 years ago on The Devil’s Advocate but that was more about nerves and Pacino than it was about distraction. Then when Jen was expecting Ava, I was in Baltimore working on The Replacements but I have to confess to a degree of ambivalence at first about that pregnancy so I was almost happier to box up this thing and pretend it wasn’t happening until the shoot was over. This time I knew I would just want to be there and be caring for Sophia and the kids and not be on set at all.

I would have to draw on my inner resources and commitment to the project to get me through this one. And the memories from those short 5 days were pretty special. The pregnancy test surprise, the scan, the kids’ sweet concern that the baby would make it and my sisters’ and mom’s delight at the news.  Karina, and Mom had been unable to resist hugging us both despite social distancing still being important. They hadn’t been anywhere in weeks though so we were OK to let it go for this special moment. And just being back with Sophia again, making love with her – those memories would do their usual dual trick of sustaining me and making me miss her all the more but I wouldn’t trade them.

As soon as I got back, I met with Chad and updated him with my news. I also shared my worries about focus – he dismissed them as bullshit  - not meaning to be mean but because he knew me and was confident that once we got on set, I’d be as on it as ever. I was thankful he had faith in me and hoped I could live up to it.

 She Said

It was late July and I was laying on a sun-lounger by a pool in a villa in Provence. Time to chill at last and to look forward to seeing Keanu later that day. He was joining us direct from New York whereas we had already had a week there and were currently enjoying the company of Alex, Ramsey and their 2 kids. In fact at this specific moment, it was their two kids who were affording me the time to lay back as they were splashing around in the pool with my 2 meaning all I needed to do was ensure the snacks kept coming and that my two  had on enough sunscreen!

I had last seen Keanu 5 weeks before when he’d flown home to attend the 12 week scan.  All was well including the abnormality risk assessment so he’d been able to return to set reassured. After that I had facetimed or phoned him if possible when I had midwife appointments but on a couple of  occasions he’d just got a heartbeat recording after the event! I know he treasured that though, sometimes sneaking a listen to it when he was hanging around on set waiting for the crew to be ready.

We kept in touch with calls most but not every night and we never had any relapses or forgetfulness any more.  We usually had the call at around 6pm (9pm his time) and If Eva was around she would always update him on what the corresponding size of fruit was to the baby. By the last, call about a week ago in mid July, we were up to the size of an apple!

We’d decided to head to France for a family holiday since Covid related travel restrictions had eased somewhat and Keanu had missed his chance the previous year for a European break. He had hired a bike which was waiting here and would spend some time enjoying the  winding, hilly roads of the Vars region which we’d chosen due to it being a bit off the beaten track compared to the hills around Nice or Cannes. We’d found a big property which had 10 bedrooms meaning plenty of friends could join us which they were doing more on rotation than all at once but the space meant we shouldn’t have to turn anyone away. There was a maid service too – I didn’t want one of those holidays where you still have all your usual jobs to do, just more of them but in a prettier place! Mind you, since I’d got pregnant, Keanu had insisted I get a maid service at home as well as the kids’ lock down tutor so my domestic responsibilities had reduced significantly.

The kids and I had travelled over with my mother and at some point in the next couple of weeks we’d host Karina, her husband, Keanu’s Mom and Kim and possibly Chad and his partner if they could make the time.

 He Said

I emerged somewhat groggy to the terminal in Nice and was happy that we’d arranged a car so I could just find the guy with ‘Reeves’ on his sign and snooze for the roughly one hour journey to the villa. I was greeted first by Eva and Miguel who Sophia said had been waiting by the gate for about the last hour with their welcome sign! Then I got to see my beautiful girl walking towards me in a cream maxi-dress  which showed the gentle swell of her growing baby bump to perfection. She was literally glowing now.

“Hey you”

“Hey you two!”

We saved the passionate smooching for later but had a long hug on the driveway before going in to say hi to our other guests.

The house was what they call a ‘bastide’, built up on a hill and it had been extended with some of the rooms being in a separate self contained building which was nice for friends like Alex to have their own space. There were a couple of verandas both with pergolas covered with climbers for shade and of course a pool. Indoors most rooms had terracotta tiles and the shutters which kept the place cool and also meant it would be pitch black until they were opened so everyone would sleep in.  Our room felt instantly soothing with cream walls and blue and cream striped curtains and bed linen.

I am not someone who takes many proper holidays. I get to travel so much with work  usually that the thing  I want most when I’m finished with a project is to be a homebody and catch up with friends in LA.

With this holiday though, Sophia’s planning meant I got many of those home comforts  (reading, biking, friends, family) and the added bonus of being somewhere new.

My regular job ended up being fetching bread and croissants from the bakery in the morning. I could do that on the Harley I’d rented using the paniers – there was quite a lot of bread needed every day after all! Days were spent by the pool mostly but with the odd break to stock up on food, beer and wine from a local supermarket. When Sophia and I went to do this,  I was sure I was being stared at and risked being stopped but she said she’d noticed the French seemed to stare at everyone so it probably wasn’t personal! No-one approached me so either she was right or they were just more respectful of privacy! Our evening meals on most days consisted of salads and/ or something cooked on the barbecue followed by card games, music and conversation into the evening with the whole gang (whichever configuration we were on that day!) gathered on the terrace together breaking bread,  laughing and joking.

With so many other adults at the house to take the kids, we were also able to enjoy a couple of meals out on our own. I wished I could have taken Sophia on the bike up into the hills but obviously we couldn’t risk that so we drove, finding sleepy villages with beautiful tree-lined squares that usually featured an old stone fountain just like the one in the Marcel Pagnol films Jean de Fleurette and Manon de Sources.

It was just a perfect time, made even more so by the fact that this is where I first felt the baby move.

It was quite late one night and Sophia had gone ahead to bed earlier than me. I expected to find her sleeping when I got there but she was sitting up, holding her hand on her belly, smiling at me as I walked in. My eyebrows shot up, reading her expression and she nodded. I rushed to settle next to her but when I put my hand on her belly,  I couldn’t feel anything.

“Maybe try laying your face against me” she suggested.

I eased down and lifted up her t shirt, laid my cheek  against her belly  and held my breath. After a few moments, I squeezed her hand as I felt a gentle fluttering against my cheek.  My tears ended up on her belly. That’s also when I started speaking every day to our baby, all the way through to the birth. Mostly it would just be telling them about our day but sometimes I would use it as a way to say something to Sophia that I was nervous to tackle in a more direct conversation. Like my suggestion that she and the kids either move in with me or we look for a new home together.  

“So I was thinking” I murmured to her stomach “that maybe when we get back to LA, we should all be together, like we have been here, always.”

“Really?”

“Yeah of course – we have this little person arriving, we can’t live apart then can we? I mean you weren’t thinking….. I mean I’d want to live with you anyway, but….” Now I was totally burbling!

She was laughing at me by then.

“No you’re right, I just didn’t know how you felt about sharing your home with all of us or moving or anything. Guess I’ve actually being taking one day at a time on some things!”

“Well I want you all with me. I mean there’s room at my place. We’ll have to change things around obviously but that’s doable. Or if you want a new start we can look for somewhere.”

“OK, let’s do one of your mind map and incubate things and tackle it when we get back. We have 3-4 months before I’m going to basically be a beached whale and not able to do much!”

By the time we left, I was definitely sold on this kind of holiday being in my future – another wonderful change in me that had been down to Sophia.

@fortheloveoffanfic @kindainlovewithk’eanu @omg-imagine @iworshipkeanureeves @fics-not-tragedies @ficsnroses @keanureevesisbae @penwieldingdreamer @witty-wallflower @paperplanesandwallflowers @bitchyslut99 @ladyreapermc @toomanystoriessolittletime @fanficsrusz @keanuficfiles @bitchyslut99

[wherever-the-chaos-is]

HanGuang-Jun's Heroism (part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

In the present timeline, 13 years after all of the past events, Lan Wangji continues to be called Hanguang-jun and to be “wherever the chaos is”. In fact, the first time he appears in the novel, he is doing just that: appearing where he is needed. With one signal from the Lan disciples, he arrives at Mo Village to subdue the arm, which he later on takes back to the Cloud Recesses to be examined. At Dafan mountain, he destroys 400 deity-binding nets — all set up just for Jin Ling to capture a prey — allowing other less-privileged cultivators to participate in the nighthunt. Note that Lan WangJi starts to protect Wei Wuxian when he still thought he was Mo Xuanyu, as he defends him from Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling’s attacks. Not too long after, when he had already discovered Wei Wuxian’s true identity, he also helps him escape Jiang Cheng’s attempt to drag him back to Lotus Pier, given Jiang Cheng’s reputation of torturing demonic cultivators. Flash forward Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi's investigation, at the Chang clan residence, Lan WangJi immediately acts upon seeing the grave robber, which makes him retreat. When the mysterious man appears again in Yi City, Lan WangJi fights him off once more — allowing Wei WuXian and the juniors to find a place to hide and to heal those who were poisoned — and retrieves one of the missing body parts. He also defeats more than three hundred corpses on his own, and goes to fight Xue Yang while still fighting off more corpses. Lan WangJi succeeds in defeating Xue Yang, despite his disadvantageous situation, with A-Qing’s help.

Mo Village

Watching as the Mo family grew closer to defeat, Wei WuXian prepared to blow the whistle that he suppressed under his tongue. At the same time, the echoes of two strums on a stringed instrument came from far away.

The sound seemed to have been played by a human. The timbre was ethereal and clear, carrying the bleak chills of windswept pines. The creatures battling in the courtyard all stiffened as they heard the sound.

Instantaneously, the boys from the GusuLan clan started beaming, as if they were born again. Lan SiZhui wiped the blood off his face and raised his head, happily exclaiming, “HanGuang-Jun!”

As soon as he heard the two faraway strums of the zither, Wei WuXian turned around and began to leave.

The sound of another strum came. This time, the pitch was higher, piercing through the sky with a few degrees of bitterness. The three cruel corpses backed off and covered one ear with their right hands. However, it was impossible to block out the Eradication Tone of the GusuLan clan by means such as this. They had just retreated a few steps, and slight bursting sounds came from within their skulls.

Because the arm had just endured a tough fight, after hearing the sound of the strings again, it instantly fell onto the ground. Although the fingers were still flinching, the arm was unable to move. (Chapter 5)

Destroying 400 deity binding nets, allowing other cultivators, less privileged ones, to participate in the night-hunt

To go up the mountain, one had to hike up trail that started in the town. Wei WuXian sat on his donkey and rode up the hill slowly. After a while, a few people walked down with ominous expressions on their faces.

Some of them had scars on their faces, and they were talking all at once. With the darkening sky, they all jumped as they saw a person who looked like a hanged ghost approaching them. After cursing, they walked around him quickly. Wei WuXian turned his head around and thought, maybe they were frustrated because it was a strong prey? He didn’t think too much about it and slapped the donkey’s buttocks, making it jog faster up the mountain.

Coincidentally, he missed the group’s whining, which happened shortly afterward.

“I haven’t seen anyone like this!”

“Would the leader of a big clan like that need to fight over a soul-consuming spirit with us? He probably killed tons of them when he was young.”

“What can we do? He’s a sect leader. No matter which clan you choose to offend, you shouldn’t offend the Jiang clan, and no matter which person you choose to offend, you shouldn’t offend Jiang Cheng. Let’s just pack up, leave, and feel sorry for ourselves!” (Chapter 6)

The young master already had an arrow on his bow and was preparing to shoot it, when he realized that the deity-binding nets only caught humans. After an initial moment of disappointment, he quickly became annoyed, “I find you idiots every single time. There are more than four hundred deity-binding nets in the mountain, but you guys have already broken ten or so, and I haven’t even seen the prey yet!”

(...) Wasting deity-binding webs like this and not caring about what they caught shouldn’t be considered night-hunting at all. In fact, it was almost as if they were chasing people away, not allowing others the chance of contributing to the process. It seemed that the cultivators who retreated earlier didn’t do it because the prey was difficult, but rather because this sect was one that shouldn’t be angered.

(...)

Lan WangJi seemed as if he didn’t want to engage in conversation, throwing Lan SiZhui a look. The latter understood and told the juniors to speak among themselves. Afterward, he spoke to Jin Ling, “Young Master Jin, night-hunts have always been fair competitions amongst the different clans and sects. However, to set up nets all over Dafan Mountain is clearly hindering the cultivators, causing them to fall into the traps. Is this or is this not against the rules of night-hunting?”

Jin Ling’s grim expression was exactly the same as his uncle’s, “What can I do? It was their own fault for stepping into the traps. I’ll solve everything after I finish capturing the prey.”

Lan WangJi frowned. Jin Ling was about to speak again, but he suddenly realized that, shockingly, he could neither open his mouth nor make any sounds.

(...)

Before Jiang Cheng opened his mouth to speak, a purple-clothed man in the Jiang Sect’s uniform ran toward them from within the forest. He shouted, “Sect Leader!”

However, after seeing Lan WangJi’s presence, he hesitated. Jiang Cheng spoke satirically, “Talk. Is there more bad news?”

The man spoke in a low voice, “Not long ago, a blue sword flew over and destroyed the deity-binding nets that you had set up.”

Jiang Cheng glanced at Lan WangJi harshly, his displease plastered all over his face, “How many were broken?”

The man replied carefully, “… All of them…”

That’s more than four hundred! (Chapter 7)

Lan SiZhui spoke, “Sect Leader Jiang, the GusuLan Sect will return the exact number of spirit-binding nets that had been destroyed.”

(...) After the four-hundred-or-so spirit-binding nets were destroyed by Lan WangJi’s sword, the hesitant cultivators in Buddha’s Feet all rushed up again.

(...)

“Speaking of it, today, if it wasn’t for HanGuang-Jun…” (Chapter 8)

Saving “MXY” from Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng 

With someone backing him up, Jin Ling’s attacks became more aggressive. Wei WuXian slid two fingers into the spirit-locking bag, about to take something out, when suddenly, the blue glare of a sword slashed out like lightning. It collided with Jin Ling’s sword, breaking the powerful sword’s golden rays in an instant.

It wasn’t because of the quality of the swords, but rather the great disparity in the strengths of the persons using the swords. Wei WuXian had originally calculated the timing, but his movements were suddenly interrupted by the sword’s glare, causing him to trip. He fell toward the ground, right on top of a pair of snow-white boots. After pausing for a moment, he slowly lifted his head. (Chapter 7)

Protecting Wei WuXian from Jiang Cheng dragging him back to Lotus Pier to be tortured and disappearing

Before Wei WuXian moved, Lan WangJi had already placed his zither in front of him. With an assured stroke, it was as if a rock had created thousands of waves in water. The sound of the zither had created countless ripples in the air, colliding with Zidian. The latter waned, and the former waxed.

(...)

A moment ago, Jiang Cheng was certain that this person was Wei WuXian, and all of the blood in his body started to boil. Yet, now, Zidian was clearly telling him that he wasn’t. Zidian definitely wouldn’t deceive him or make a mistake, so he quickly calmed himself and thought, this doesn’t mean anything. I should first find an excuse to take him back and use every possible method to get information out of him. It’s impossible for him to not confess anything or give himself away. I’ve done things like this in the past anyways. After thinking it through, he made a gesture. The disciples understood his intention and came over.

(...)

Wei WuXian spoke (to Jiang Cheng), “Thank you for being so enthusiastic. However, your thoughts are quite off. Even if I am attracted to men, I don’t like just any type of man, much less follow anyone who waves at me. For example, I’m not interested in ones like you. 

(...) "Well, I am very much attracted to people like HanGuang-Jun.”

Lan WangJi could not tolerate this sort of frivolous and foolish joke at all. If he felt disgusted, he would definitely draw a line between them and keep his distance. Disgusting two people at once—this was killing two birds with one stone!

However, as Lan WangJi heard this, he turned around.

His face was emotionless, “Mark your words.”

Wei WuXian, “Hmm?”

Lan WangJi turned back, speaking in a mannerly yet resolute way, “I will take this person back to the Lan Sect.” (Chapter 10)

Lan SiZhui tried to reason with him, “Young Master Mo, it was for your sake that HanGuang-Jun brought you here. If you do not follow us, Sect Leader Jiang will not be willing to let the matter go. During these years, there were countless people whom he caught and took back to Lotus Pier, and none of those people were ever let out.”

Lan JingYi spoke, “That is right. You have seen Sect Leader Jiang’s methods, have you not? They are quite cruel…” (Chapter 11)

Chang Clan’s Residence; Vs. Grave Robber

When both Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi noticed the gravedigger and were spotted by him, Lan WangJi reacted fast.

Lan WangJi had already unsheathed Bichen, darted into the cemetery, and started the fight. 

(...)

Lan WangJi said nothing. Bichen’s attacks were deeper and deeper, attacking with tremendous force. The gravedigger fell back a few times. As if he knew that, with a dead person on his back, he wouldn’t be able to win against Lan WangJi and, if they continued to fight, he’d be captured alive, he suddenly fished out a dark-blue talisman from his waist. 

(...)

Wei WuXian laughed uncontrollably as he smacked the tombstone, while Lan WangJi caught the flaccid corpse with one hand and attacked with Bichen using the other. Seeing that what he had just dug out had been snatched away, that he couldn’t even win solo against Lan WangJi, let alone the mischief of another person, he didn’t dare to stay any longer. (Chapter 30)

Yi City Vs. Su She

Wei WuXian thought to himself, So he really is someone with a high level of cultivation. He immediately shouted, “HanGuang-Jun, the gravedigger’s here!”

Without needing the reminder, Lan WangJi knew that something had happened just by listening. He stayed silent. Bichen’s swift, fierce sweep served as response.

The current situation was far from optimistic. A black mist covered the gravedigger’s sword, making it so that the sword glare didn’t come through and allowing it to hide perfectly within the white fog. On the other hand, the sword glare from Lan WangJi’s Bichen couldn’t be concealed at all. He was out in the open while the enemy was hidden in the dark. Also, the enemy was not only highly skilled in terms of cultivation, but he was also familiar with the GusuLan Sect’s sword moves. And, although both of them were fighting blindly in the fog, he could do whatever he wanted, yet Lan WangJi had to be careful so that he didn’t accidentally injure anyone on his own side. Seeing from all of this, Lan WangJi was really at a disadvantage. Having heard a few clashes of the blades, Wei WuXian’s heart suddenly tightened. He blurted out, “Lan Zhan? Are you hurt?!”

From afar, there came a muffled grunt, as if someone had received a critical injury. It clearly wasn’t Lan WangJi’s voice, though.

Lan WangJi, “Of course not.”

Wei WuXian grinned, “So it seems!”

It sounded as if the other person laughed bitterly. He attacked again. The clashing sounds of Bichen’s glare and the other sword were farther and farther away. Wei WuXian knew that Lan WangJi didn’t want to accidentally hurt them and purposely drew the battle away to deal with the gravedigger on his own. Of course, the rest was up to Wei WuXian. He turned around, “How are the ones who inhaled the powder? (Chapter 34)

Lan WangJi nodded slightly, “I gave the gravedigger three blows. As he was close to being captured, a group of walking corpses attacked and allowed him the opportunity to escape.”

(...)

Suddenly, with a light toss, Lan WangJi passed something to him.

Wei WuXian caught it perfectly, “What is it?”

Lan WangJi, “The right hand.”

He had tossed over a new Qiankun Pouch. Having finally remembered why they had came to Yi City at the first place, Wei WuXian brightened up, “The right hand of our dear friend?”

Lan WangJi, “Mnn.”

Under the obstructions of the gravedigger, the groups of walking corpses, and the thick fog, Lan WangJi still managed to successfully find the right hand of the corpse. Wei WuXian was more than pleased. He praised, “I expected no less from HanGuang-Jun! Now, we’re one step ahead of them again. What a pity that it’s not the head. I wanted to see what our dear friend looks like. Well, I guess it’d happen soon enough… (Chapter 42)

Yi City Vs. Xue Yang + hundreds of corpses

Wei WuXian had finally met someone more shameless than him. He returned the smile, “It’d be better for one to upset a hero than to upset a rogue, which is you, in this case. I’m not dealing with you any longer. Let’s have someone else.”

Xue Yang grinned, “Who else? That HanGuang-Jun? I got more than three hundred walking corpses to gang up on him. He…”

Before he finished his sentence, a white-robed figure descended from the sky. Bichen’s icy blue glare swept at him. (Chapter 37)

Surrounded by an ambience of frost and ice, Lan WangJi stood in front of Wei WuXian.

(...)

Lan WangJi,  “Step back. You are not needed here.”

(...)

Just as he left, Bichen’s sword glare brightened tenfold. With a brief slip of the hand, Shuanghua flew out of Xue Yang’s grip. Lan WangJi conveniently caught the sword. Seeing that Shuanghua was in someone else’s hands, Xue Yang had Jiangzai slash directly at the left arm that Lan WangJi used to grab the sword. As the attack was dodged, a chilling rage flashed within Xue Yang’s eyes. He demanded coldly,  “Give me the sword back.” 

Lan WangJi,  “You do not deserve this sword.”

(...)

Suddenly, the sounds of footsteps came from all around them. Shadows had already begun to emerge from the end of the street. Lan WangJi heard the sound as well. With a wave of his sleeve, he took out his guqin, Wangji.

The body of the guqin was horizontally slammed onto the table. Lan WangJi tossed Bichen to his left hand and continued to fight with Xue Yang, his attacks remaining strong. At the same time, without even turning his head, he raised his right hand and strummed across the strings. 

The chord was loud and clear. It resonated all the way to the end of the street. What came back was the strange yet familiar noises of the corpses’ heads bursting. Lan WangJi continued to fight Xue Yang with one hand and play the guqin with the other. He’d glance across the scene as if it was only a simple matter, then nonchalantly curve his fingers to strum again. Working with both of his hands, he somehow still seemed calm and unhurried. (Chapter 38)

The sword glares of Bichen and Jiangzai clashed—the fight was at a critical moment. Bichen was calm and unhurried, gaining the upper hand, while Jiangzai lashed out as though it was a rabid dog, somehow managing to keep up. However, within the dreadful white fog, Lan WangJi had difficulties with vision, yet since Xue Yang had lived so many years in the city like A-Qing, he was able to know where he was even if he closed his eyes. Thus, the fight was in a deadlock. Notes of the guqin sometimes thundered through the fog, preventing the groups of walking corpses that wanted to approach. (Chapter 41)

Lan WangJi’s sword had slashed across Xue Yang’s chest. Not only did he bleed, the Spirit-trapping Pouch that he hid in his lapels had been taken out by Bichen’s tip as well.

(...)

Immediately after the split second of distraction, following A-Qing’s bone-chilling screech, Bichen pierced through his chest!

Although A-Qing’s ghost had already been destroyed by Xue Yang’s talisman and there ceased to be any noise that revealed where he was, the attack was vital. Xue Yang couldn’t continue to be as unpredictable as before! 

(...)

Bichen’s blue light split through the air. Lan WangJi cleanly severed off one of his arms. (Chapter 42)

Part 4

[sabraeal]

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 6

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Written for Trope Madness’s betting kitty winner, @ruleofexception! It’s been....over six months, but here is this HUGE BEAST of a chapter. I know I said I thought this would be the last Laxdo chapter, BUT...there’s gonna be at least one more!

There hadn’t been much in the way of entertainment, back in the country. At least, not the way Shirayuki’s constantly bombarded with it here, videos up on billboards and scrolling across phones on the subway. The B&B had a limping internet connection, and with the only television in the common room, she’d spent more time inside a book or outside the house than struggling to find a channel the other boarders would agree to.

So when Zen asked her to join D&D, when Kiki had teased her for not even knowing what she’d said yes to --

Well, she’d done her research. Not just the kind Izana gave her, reading source books and studying lore, but watching videos, listening to podcasts, finding the D&D episodes of popular shows -- anything that would give her something to expect. Nothing could have rivaled her disappointment or her relief when she realized costumes were optional; she hadn’t known how she would cobble together historically accurate, fourth century Welsh gown when even the SCA shrugged their shoulders at the idea, but, well...it was exactly the sort of challenge she would have risen to, if she had the excuse.

Still, she’d thought she had an idea of what to expect: roleplay, quick thinking, rich story, complicated feelings, improv, maybe even some funny voices, but --

Nothing had prepared her for the amount of planning.

“So that’s it?”

Shirayuki startles; she’d been deep into splitting healing duties with Mitsuhide. Paladins are only half spell casters, only good for buffs and an occasional off-heal, so all the curse removal duties fall to Lynet. Bedwyr is more or less moral support; unless the curse itself had some sort of permanent stat drain, there’s nothing he can do.

Zen isn’t invested in this conversation, of course; magi don’t have magic that can’t be applied to themselves or their weapon. Which is why he’s craning his neck toward Izana, incredulous. “We just cast a whole bunch of Remove Curse and then hit the road?”

Shirayuki isn’t an expert on Izana’s expressions, not when the difference between them is the angle of an eyebrow or the twitch of a lip, but she feels confident in calling this one positively withering. “Is that what you think you should do?”

The temperature of the room drops two degrees. That’s a question where everyone knows the answer.

“We still don’t know who started this,” Mitsuhide tries, haltingly, thick fingers worrying at the edge of his character sheet. From the dog-eared corners on every side, this isn’t a first-time occurrence. “It’s not a good habit to leave enemies behind us.”

“Not a healthy one, at least,” Kiki adds, leaning her knee against the table.

“But we don’t have any hints either.” Zen’s flushed, frustrated. “Do you guys just want to hang around here, waiting for him to come back? If he comes back?”

“Or her.” Kiki’s brow twitches, and Shirayuki’s not sure whether to read it as amusement or annoyance. Maybe both is the better bet. “Then again, you haven’t tried to woo any rescued damsels this session, so probably not a dread sorceress. Unless there’s something Shirayuki isn’t telling us.”

Kiki turns to her with an inquisitive look, and even though she knows she’s joking, even though she sees the quirk at the corner of her lips, Shirayuki’s cheeks flare fire-engine red.

“Hey!” Zen snaps, not looking much better. “Shirayuki--”

“Well.” Obi’s mouth cants, eyes catching hers from their corners. “I know Beaumains is under her spell.”

She can feel it, this moment of opportunity being flung open like a window, and -- and his wink is not helping matters. Not at all. Especially not when Kihal’s flirt back or make out with his face is burning a hole in her pocket, reminding her of what she was trying to do before plot carried her away. It’s just --

She can’t say something now. This isn’t Lynet and Beaumains, this is -- is them, Shirayuki and Obi, and that might mean something, and she doesn’t -- she isn’t --

Well, there’s just a huge difference between a flirtation and a boyfriend, probably. And she hardly knows if she wants the first, let alone -- that. Not with some college boy she’s known a week. He might play trumpet, for all she knows.

The moment stretches on, too long, and Kiki hums, amused. “I suppose that is some damning evidence.”

“Okay.” Zen’s folded himself into a huff, fuming so hard it’s an honest surprise smoke isn’t pouring out his ears. “So you all think we should just...hang around? Hope for some Big Bad to come wandering back to check his work?”

“Well.” The word bursts out of her, unbidden, but -- she’s committed now, with everyone watching her. “We do have, um, another reason.”

He blinks, some of his flush fading back to pink. “Oh?”

“I, uh, only prepared one Removed Curse at our last rest.” Her hands twist themselves in knots under the table, anxious. “But I can fix that at our next one! If this works like it should, then I should be able to get everyone on their feet in...a few days, maybe?”

Zen lets loose a whine that would make a puppy worry. “A few days.”

“Um, well...” Shirayuki squirms in her seat. “Give or take.”

Kiki’s eyes narrow. “Just how many spell slots do you have?”

“Um...” She flips through her sheet, squinting at the chart on the second page. “Three?”

Mitsuhide lets out a worried hum, too high-pitched for a man his size. “How many people are under this spell again?”

The question sits heavily at the table until Izana leans back, the picture of surprise, and asks, “Oh, are you asking me?”

Zen stares. “Is there someone else who would know?”

“It could have been rhetorical. A nice little thought exercise.” He shrugs, and Shirayuki does not miss the way his mouth twitches at a corner. “But the answer is: as many as it takes to make a castle of this size function.”

Zen groans.

“Oh, looks like we better get comfy, my liege,” Obi says with a wolfish grin. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

This night is your longest yet; you had thought the first interminable, when all the miasma of illness hung thick over the room, choking you even behind yours mask. Despair had clung to every wrinkle in your gown, tight like a child’s hand on a mother’s apron, always niggling, reminding you that time would run out, that perhaps no amount of your cleverness could save them.

But hope is worse.

There is no reason to pick the man you do -- or rather, the lack of one becomes it. With only a single brew, Bedwyr suggests that you spend it on the castle’s healer, but--

But this magic is familiar somehow. It slicks along your skin like a drop of oil in water, and though you cannot divine its maker, you do not trust it to act as it ought. Curse though it may be, there is a part of you that worries any cure that you brew will only add to your troubles.

You worry over that same thought for endless hours, trying to get to the marrow of it, to logic out why dread settles so firmly in your gut. There has never been an instance, not one, where your gifts have failed you, where the joy of victory has turned to ashes in your mouth. Except for the one, of course.

Despite your misgivings, the man wakes at dawn.

It is not a calm thing, oh no; he heaves into life, breath filling his chest so forcefully it arches him upright. He clutches at his breast, wide-eyed, but besides the atrophy expected of long illness and the shock of waking, he is healthy. So healthy he empties the first bowl of broth you give him, and the second, and when you bring the third he inquires after a heel of bread as well.

“Well, this certainly stands as a testament to your skill,” Arturius remarks, bemused, as the man sops up his bowl. You are tired, and for a moment you are tempted to ask if he had doubted it, but -- it would be picking a fight, and it is not the prince’s fault that his particular skills meant he slept, rather than wait.

“I brewed more last night,” you tell him. “Enough dose for three.”

“Our priority is the healer, of course.” He bites his lip, head tipped back in thought. “But the others...”

For the first time in hours, you feel your mouth lift into a smile. “I did have a thought about that...”

Izana blinks. “The dwarf?”

“He’s cursed, isn’t he?” She must be the only one that remembers; despite happening only hours ago, the rest of the party stares blankly at her. “Worse than anyone else, if I’m remembering right.”

“Oh,” Obi hums, thoughtful. “Yeah, I think I remember that. He’s human.”

“Oh, right.” Zen scoops up the dwarf’s figure, squinting hard at its shapeless features. “I thought he was going to be the Big Bad’s sidekick, honestly.”

“Mm, agreed.” Kiki leans over, giving the plastic the same skeptical look. “I was waiting for the backstab.”

“Such little faith in your fellow man,” Izana clucks, shaking his head.

She arches a brow, eloquent in her disdain. “It is your game.”

His mouth stretches, curling into a smile Shirayuki’s only ever seen on the Grinch. “That is fair.”

“Still.” The word drags Izana’s attention back to her, his eyes almost comically wide. “I want to give our friend at least one of these. After all, he’s been helping us this whole time.”

“Has he though?” Obi mutters, and without even thinking, Shirayuki puts an elbow straight in his side.

Every hair stands on end as she realizes what she’s done. She’s -- she’s practically scolded him, the boy she maybe-kind of-might want to flirt with. Or his character, at least. For, you know, fun.

When she dares a glance at him, his eyes have rounded, eyebrows practically up at his hairline, but -- but --

He almost looks impressed.

“Huh,” Izana huffs out, drawing her attention back to the topic at hand. “Do you now.”

It’s not a question, but she hasn’t gotten this far by letting him practice his rhetoric. “I do.”

He hums, tapping at his notes. “Well, I suppose you could...try.”

“Me?” The dwarf shifts on his spindly legs, wringing his thick-fingered hands over his belly. “But -- but there are others. Other who would be of much more use than me!”

“We have more than enough for your healer,” you assure him, though you have to grit your teeth as he dances.

There’s something strange, off-kilter about the way he moves, about the way his face changes, as if your mind is trying to make him into two different people entirely -- one which is familiar, and one which is entirely not. It is tiring to say the least.

You meet his eyes, those warm hazel-green, and say, “You have helped us immeasurably. Who else could be more important than you?”

“The head of the guard?” he supplies with a squeak. “The steward. The -- the cook? Anyone, my lady, would be more helpful that me.”

You lower yourself to a chair, coming to his height. “No one is more important here than the man who knows how this all came to be.”

His gaze is watery when he tears it from yours. “No, no,” he insists, voice ragged. “Spend it on the others. All of them are more deserving than me.”

"Welp.” Obi pops the ‘p’, annoyed, and it draws attention to his mouth, to the way it fits around the words he speaks and -- well, Shirayuki really didn’t need help with that. “We’re doing real good, solving this mystery.”

It’s been three in-game days, and with every awoken man, more questions are asked than answered. So far none of them can remember being cursed, and when they bring the dwarf in front of them --

Well, Shirayuki knows this is all pretend, that the dwarf is really just Izana bending his voice into something new, but the way his expression crumples as every soldier calls him a stranger -- it’s a lot.

“What is even happening here?” Zen groans, fingers pulling at his face. “The dwarf knows something, but he won’t tell us.”

“He can’t tell us.” It comes out a little sharper than she intends, but -- it’s an important distinction. “He’s cursed.”

“Right,” he agrees absently. “But also he won’t let us help him, so it’s pretty much the same thing.”

Her hands clench on her lap. “It’s really n--”

“Can’t you just cast it on him anyway?” Obi asks, chin in hand, drumming his fingers on the table. “Then bingo-bango-bongo: the whole problem is solved.”

Her jaw drops. “I’m not going to treat a patient without his consent!”

Obi rounds on her, eyes incredulously wide. “He’s not real.”

That...is a good point, she’ll give him that.

“Well, he’s real to Lynet,” she informs him primly, setting her hands flat on the table. “And she would never.”

For a moment is mouth goes flat, annoyed, but then -- then it curls, Obi leaning casual on one fist. “I’m sure Beaumains could be persuasive.”

Her mouth wraps around the word, silent. The look he gives her is too knowing, eyebrows lifted in invitation, and she’s so, so tempted to ask just what kind of persuasion Beaumains might be inspired to do--

“Even if Shirayuki cast it, he could still resist it with a Will save,” Mitsuhide interjects, sending the moment skittering. “If he wanted to, at least. And then we’d be out of a spell slot.”

“If we’re stuck here, we should be focusing on the Big Bad anyway.” Zen settles back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and leaving it adorably askew, like he’d just woken up. “Someone has to have said something interesting, right? And we’re not just thinking about it.”

Mitsuhide leans a chin in his hand, pondering the idea. “The head of the guard mentioned that a traveling caravan came through before this all happened.”

Kiki nods. “And the steward mentioned buying wood from traveling merchants. Probably the ones who supplied the logs with the Will debuff.”

Zen settles back, thoughtful. “So you think they were force to sell the wood?”

“They must have some leverage on them,” Mitsuhide agrees. “They didn’t mention any children--”

“Or maybe,” Kiki deadpans, “they were all bandits?”

Mitsuhide gapes. “But there were women in the caravan.”

“Oh my,” she hums, teeth flashing behind her lips. “You’re right. How silly of me. We all know a woman could never be dangerous, oh no.”

“T-that’s not what I meant!”

“Oh?” Kiki smiles, and the room drops an entire degree. Shirayuki practically shivers in the chill. “It better not be.”

Shirayuki blinks, and between one moment as the next, Kiki stabs her pen into the table, leaving it quivering like a knife.

Izana huffs in annoyance. “Kiki, please. The table didn’t do anything to you.”

“It’s just between the leaves.” She shift her character sheets, and there it is: pen nib wedged perfectly into the crevice. With nothing more than a sharp tug, it’s back out again, twirling between Kiki’s long fingers. “Besides, it’s not like this is some family heirloom.”

“No,” Izana agrees, “but it’s the principle of the thing.”

“Okay, aside from Princess Kiki’s love for violence, which, by the way--” Obi tosses her a wink, which absolutely does not send a jolt of disappointment spear through Shirayuki’s belly-- “hot. It looks like our only lead are these bandits.”

Mitsuhide grunts. “We don’t know if they’re bandits.”

“Fine, Schrödinger’s bandits,” he sighs. “We don’t--what?”

The table is quiet, wide-eyed -- even Izana -- and into the silence, Zen says, “You know Schrödinger?”

Obi huffs. “What? I go to college. I know memes.”

“Wow,” Kiki manages, drawling every letter.

“Anyway.” Zen wields the word like a knife, trying to cut through the distractions. “We should track down these bandits--”

Mitsuhide clears his throat.

“Potential bandits,” Zen amends, annoyed. “So while Shirayuki is tending to the people here, we can start canvassing the area.”

“Oh!” It slips out of her, like a punch to the gut. If she’s back at the castle, and Beaumains is out looking for bandits --

She shakes her head. That’s not what this game is about. It’s about saving her sister and having fun with her friends, not -- not practice flirting.

Unfortunately, it’s too late to take it back. Every eye at the table falls on her, and she squirms. “Um.”

“That isn’t very fair,” Kiki observes, dragging her gaze to Zen. “Shirayuki should get a chance to have an adventure too, not just heal in the background.”

“But we can’t take her with us.”

She hadn’t even minded being left behind -- Izana would give her something to do, and it wasn’t as if Lynet would feel strongly about bandit chasing -- but it stings, hearing it from his mouth. Zen had wanted her to be Gwenhwyfar, to be the one waving the handkerchief from the parapets. Instead she’d made Lynet -- an alchemist, an arcanist, an asset -- but even still he’s finding ways to keep her at Camelot, leaving her behind when the knights rode out.

Mitsuhide grunts, disapproving.

“She’s using her highest slots to do this curse thing,” Zen explains, and she gets it, she does, it just doesn’t help. “If we find the Big Bad--”

“--We should probably have our healer with us.” Obi’s mouth cants into a lop-sided smile, cajoling. “Come on, my liege. We don’t have to jump in the deep end the second we get a hint of where this guy is. We have plenty of time to give my lady here a heads up before we get ourselves neck-deep in trouble.”

He winks, and -- and maybe she’s just projecting, but it feels different from the one he gave Kiki. More...personal.

“Um.” Now is really not the time to blurt out, I’m more upset that I can’t flirt with your character, so she just nods, ducking her head so he can’t see her blush. “Okay! But I’ll need a day to swap out my spells.”

He’s just -- adjusting, she knows that, but his foot swipes right along the bottom of hers and every hair stands on end. Oh, goodness. “We’ll see what we can do, my lady.”

Each day, more men awake from their stupors; three at a time, all of them disoriented, groggy. You had hoped that when you woke the healer, he would at least be able to ease your burden, but all the cursed are emaciated, their muscles atrophied to the point that they must be helped to the chamber pot and back. It is up to you to brew the potions, to cook the broth and, eventually, heartier stews to strengthen them.

And still there are more chores; small things: opening windows and keeping your stores stocked, organizing and documenting the treatment of your patients. Each day blends into each other, sleep only coming in fits and starts and never restful. Still, it is enough. You keep putting one foot in front of the other, hands doing what you ask of them, until --

Until one day they don’t.

Most of the men have not been moved from the great hall, though now, at least, there is room between them to walk, not just bodies laid haphazardly across the stone. It is not a situation you find ideal, however -- it is not feasible to move so many, and in their fugue state, few will care about privacy or proximity. However, those awoken few have been moved to more private chambers; the weft of the curse is thick, as fine a weave as any linen, and you suspect it does not allow any inference, either magic or mundane. Those who lay dreaming are free from any ailment save the caster’s making, but the others --

Well, that many men pressed so close is just tinder waiting for a kindling.

There is a way within Laxdo’s halls to reach the dormitories from the great hall, however, a quick dash through the courtyard’s arcades cuts minutes off a day that already has too few to spare. You hurry through, gaze set ever forward, laden with yet another heavy box of supplies.

Your mind is not on your day, of course. Oh no, it has long wandered far into stranger lands. The dwarf is what plagues your thoughts, for with every man that wakes, their eyes passing over him with barely more than a curious glance and no flash of recognition, he fades a little further. One day, you fear, you will turn to see he is little more than a shadow, a suggestion rather than a reality.

Whoever he is, he must be much changed. Perhaps he is knight, strong bodied and deep-voice; or perhaps he is truly only a boy, and --

Your heel catches, so hard that your teeth jitter in their sockets. It snaps your spine straight, feet staggering beneath you to balance both your weight and the box’s.

All for naught; the shock jolts like lightning through your limbs, and the moment you right yourself, the box slips from boneless fingers, straight to the stone below.

There is a moment where your life flashes before your eyes. Or at least, the last week, which has felt like a lifetime. On shivering fawn legs, you bend, touching each bottle and jar as if they were the saints’ bones themselves. It is not the first inventory you have done with your heart lodged in your throat, but it is certainly the one where you had the most to lose. After all, it wasn’t as if the people of Castle Perilous would rely on their young mistress alone.

Your breath huffs out on a sigh. Misfortune’s bony fingers have no hooks in your skirts today. Not one cracked jar or one broken seal.

You get to your feet, hauling the box into you arms, but -- but you are made suddenly and terrifying aware that you have not slept for days. The world swings in a mad carousel around you, and with the momentum of your lift and the weight of the box you tilt back --

But never hit the ground.

“Oh,” Zen groans, flopping back in his seat. “Come on. Really?”

“Oooh, master, you just wish you had moves like me.” Obi’s hips give a sultry swivel in his seat as he scoops up his natural twenty. It absolutely does not give Shirayuki any -- any ideas. The room is just unnaturally warm for a basement.

“Careful, smooth moves,” Kiki deadpans. “K-pop impressions and bad pick-up lines won’t save you from not investing in your health.”

Obi huffs out a laugh with one of his devil-may-care shrugs. “I don’t invest in nerd things like hit points, I invest in being cool, and I stand by that decision. Besides,” he says, pink flaring high on his cheeks, “my pick-up lines are great.”

“Name one that worked.”

“I dunno.” His shoulders hunch, defensive. “All of them.”

Kiki’s eyebrows lift. “On who?”

Me. Shirayuki catches the word in her teeth, swallowing it down. It’s not -- it’s not even true. Beaumains has been using them on Lynet, and Lynet is the one interested, not -- not her. They’re different people. Probably.

“You know.” He sniffs. “People. You don’t know them.”

If anything, Kiki’s brows only raise higher. “Hmm.”

“If we’re quite done speculating about Obi’s romantic prowess,” Izana interjects smoothly. “I do believe we’re in the middle of something?”

Heat blooms across your back, the way it would when you sat at the hearth, tilting a book so it might not lay in shadow. It smolders along your side, not like a bonfire, but a brazier, or even a bed warmer --

Ah, now there is a thought your father would not appreciate you having.

Your gaze is fixed to your supplies, but it takes you a long moment to realize you are not holding them. No, it is a steady hand over you, sheathed in black leather, and in one, delirious moment, you realize that bare indigo must be pressed into your back, hooking just so at your hip. He doesn’t even shake.

“Careful there, my lady.” The words rumble against your ear, too intimate in the cage of his chest. “Keep this up, and a man could get ideas.”

You lift your gaze, gold tangling with green, breath catching in your throat. He might have made a shoddy assassin, but as your protector, well --

“Do you think if it happens another time, you will believe it?”

He blinks, eyes as wide and gold as coins. “Believe what?”

With all the courage you can summon, you mimic his flirtatious smirk and say, “That I’m falling for you.”

If the birds still sang at Laxdo, then the air would not be so still, so silent. At it is, you could hear a pin drop, so long as it was louder than the throb of your heart.

In a single, staggering moment, you are back on your feet, and Beaumains shakes his head, hunching his shoulders against the cold. “You need to work on your delivery.”

Your jaw snaps shut. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not the flirting type, my lady.” He shrugs, a smirk peeking out from behind his cowl. “Too earnest, I think.”

Blood boils in your veins, and you know he can see it on your skin when you say, “It does not seem fair that you may make love as you wish, but yet I cannot.”

He huffs out a laugh, sweeping a step closer. Oh, he smells...nice. Leather and pine with a hint of brimstone. “You know what I have and you don’t, my lady?”

“What?” You wish it wasn’t so breathless.

He leans in, and unbidden, your eyes flutter to half-mast. “Charisma.”

“Wait.” Kiki snags his sheet, sliding it across the table. “How on earth is your charisma higher than your con?”

“I’m a rogue-sorcerer!” Obi squeaks, snatching it back. “It’s my casting stat.”

“This is ridiculous,” she decides. “Are you planning on using it any time soon?”

He gapes. “I use it all the time!”

“I mean besides for bad pick-up lines.”

“How do you think I snuck up on Shirayuki at all?” He waves his hands. “Obviously magic!”

“I mean...” Kiki shrugs. “There is a stealth stat for a reason. A good rogue wouldn’t need Invisibility--”

He sniffs. “There’s just no reasoning with you, Princess.”

“I thought you were supposed to be bandit hunting.” The words come out breathless, and you wish you were like Morgaine, who never sounds as if anything bothers her at all, instead of -- of this. A girl ripe to be teased, since she can never wear her heart anywhere but on her sleeve.

He looks out over the yard, eyes squinting into the distance, and it is a fine view for watching the smirk creep up the side of his face. “Seemed like my job was here, my lady.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, as suddenly and easily as if he had laid a hand over your heart. Still, you frown. “And you did not think to announce yourself?”

“You did well enough alone,” he tells you with a speculative glance, and the flash in his eyes makes you think he likes what he sees. That he is, perhaps, even a little impressed with you. “And anyway, it seemed like you understood well enough about hiding in plain sight.”

You do not miss the bite of censure in his words, the warmth spreading from your chest to your cheeks. He put space between you, but you close it as you say, “I am the only one who can do this work, I do not have the luxury of--”

“Peace, my lady.” He holds up his hands, as if he might ward you off like a bitch anxious over her pups. “I know well enough. Still...” He edges a step back, teeth flashing white against the dark of his face. “Should you not be wary of me?”

You stare, brows furrowed. “Wary? Has not Uther himself consigned me to your care?”

“That’s true enough,” he admits, hand raising to squeeze at his shoulder. An old injury must lay there, aggravated by the heavy weather. “Though I thought His Grace would fill your head with all sorts of things.”

“Things?”

“Speculations. Rumor.” He grins, sharp enough to cut, though it is not a blade faced outward. “Maybe even something close to the truth.”

“Beaumains.” You step closer, and he watches you now, not the quintain creaking in the distance. “I think my own thoughts, not those of Arturius. And I have never been wary of you.”

The arcade is so quiet, you can hear his breath rasp in his chest.

“Besides--” you let yourself share in some of his smile-- “I was the one who had you pinned.”

“My lady,” he protests, “I let you--”

“I think we can call this argument thoroughly explored,” Izana informs them. “Not that I do not enjoy the enthusiastic roleplay.”

“Oh!” Shirayuki chirps, hands clapping to cover her blush. “I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“No need.” You do not miss the twitch of amusement at the corner of his lips. “Besides, I think we all know it was your tanglefoot bag that did the pinning.”

“In any case,” you continue, perhaps a little forcefully, “you have proven yourself to be a man worthy of trust in my eyes.”

Beaumains stares, inscrutable. “My lady...”

Whatever words he means to say are lost; he folds his lips around them and the moment carries them away.

“My lady,” he tries again, more sure. “You’re wearing yourself down.”

“I am fine--”

“Perhaps His Grace--”

“I am fine,” you insist, sharper than you intend. “There is no reason to worry Arturius. So you might as well not.”

The silence between you itches, and when those golden eyes look at you, when they stare through you as if you were a specimen under glass, you want to squirm out of your own skin. “Who says I have to listen to anything you say?”

Uther. The name bubbles up, unbidden. You would have to be a fool to speak it; what passed between assassin and king is known by them alone. To pretend you know either of their minds would be a mistake of the rarest form.

Instead, you take a step forward, skirt brushing over the toes of his boots. “You owe me.”

His eyes narrow, thoughtful. “Owe you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “You do.”

He stares at you, and you know he remembers the same as you do: the botched assassination, him grabbing your wrists and pulling you under him, the way his skin had warmed so pleasantly against yours --

“Fine.” His gaze swivels away, chin turned so much your neck hurts just looking at it. “But...why keep it a secret, my lady?”

Teeth prick at your lips. You cannot just say, Arturius. Not when he has been so kind to you, when he has taken on this quest that no other would. But still, still -- you were barely allowed to come. If he were to know that you are weary, or weak, or, Father forfend, overwhelmed --

Well, you do not have to imagine what sort of behavior that might invite from His Grace.

“Because I can manage on my own,” you say instead, lifting the box from his hands.

Or at least, you would, if he would let go. “We’re only having this talk because you’re not managing, my lady.”

Ah, that is...a point. Your shoulders drop, grip loosening until it is once again only Beaumains that holds it. “I...”

“My lady?” You cannot meet his gaze, but you feel it on you, warm and inquisitive, perhaps even concerned.

“It’s only...”

He leans in. You can feet his heat against your skin.

“The dwarf,” you manage, a flush gathering at where your wimple meets your collar. “There’s something about him.”

“He’s short?” Beaumains offers, voice low, a pleasant rumble so close to you. “He’s cursed?”

Your mouth pulls thin. “That is not what a meant. However...” You shake your head, at a loss. “I only have this...this feeling. It is important that he be cured of his affliction. But...if he does not want to be saved before the others...”

Frustration tangles your tongue. If only you knew what words would convince him, what proof you needed to lay before him --

“Ah,” Beaumains sighs, mouth crooking into a grin. “Is that all?”

Izana blinks as his phone hoots at him, scanning the screen.

“Hm.” He sets it aside, laying it square on the table. “Obi, if you would come with me.”

Zen’s eyes narrow as they stand, gaze darting between them. “What are you doing?”

“Me and the big boss here have some business in hallway time,” Obi tells him with a grin even Shirayuki has to admit is insufferable. “Got a problem with it?”

He frowns. “Why do you need that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” With a waggle of his eyebrows, Obi skips around the corner of the stairs and is gone. The door above shuts with an almost jaunty click.

“Wha--?” Zen stares after him, sputtering. “That’s why I’m asking!”

It is quiet, for once. Only the moan of the wind outside and the scratch of your nib against parchment reach your ears, the crackle of the fire long faded into the background of your mind. It lulls you, the gentle sweep of your own hand, and you close your eyes -- just a blink --

Only to wake at the creak of your door.

“Lynet.”

You do not expect the prince to darken your door, not this late at night, but here he is, cloak dusted with snow, sword at his hip. He follows your gaze, and he seems shocked to find his blade there as well, as if he does not always keep it at his side.

“Arturius,” you say, rising to your feet. “I didn’t think to see you so late.”

“I needed to know something.” He sweeps a hand toward your bed. “Would you mind?”

You blink, and for a moment, he is a different man telling you to get to a bed, gaunleted hands reaching --

“Yes,” you gasp, shaking yourself. This is different. Arturius is a friend. You trust him. “Of course.”

Your legs dangle off the side of the bed, toes just brushing the floor, and he draws his chair up in front of you, holding your hand.

“Close your eyes,” he says. “I’m going to count.”

“Are you taking my pulse?” His fingers are not in the proper place for such a thing. At your wrist is truly--

“Please,” he laughs. “Just trust me.”

You do, and so your eyes flutter closed. For a moment, you are only aware of your breath, of his touch, and you --

Jolt awake, as the door flies open again.

“Beaumains!” Arturius snaps, dropping your hand as if it scalds. “What are you--?

It is only once he is in the room room that you can see -- there is someone behind him. A small someone.

The dwarf.

Beaumain’s smile stretches smugly from ear-to-ear. “Our friend here says he’ll do it.”

“What?” Zen squaws, glaring daggers at his brother before settling back on Obi. “How could you?”

“How could I what?” Obi grins, hooking his hands behind his head. “Get the job done?”

“Intimidate him!” He waves a hand vaguely towards the head of the table. “He’s our friend!”

Obi blinks. “Izana?”

“No, not -- I mean the dwarf!” He lets out a huff. “Izana is definitely not our friend.”

“Brother.” Izana presses a hand to his chest. “I’m wounded.”

“You’re like Rasputin,” Zen tells him. “You’ll get over it.”

“I didn’t intimidate either of them.” Obi darts a glance at her, hooking her with a grin. “I just used my raw charisma.”

Kiki groans. “Go home.”

“Are you certain?” You glance at Beaumains behind him, but there is no menace to the man, just an unseemly amount of gloating. “I will not force you.”

The dwarf hesitates, wringing his small hands over his belly, but in the end he nods, meeting your gaze with a confidence that is wholly new. “I am ready, my lady.”

Your hand shakes as his fingers cup the rounded bottom of the flask, as he pulls the glass from your grasp, and with a deep, steeling sigh, upends the entirety of the potion into his throat.

“Oh!” The sound hiccups out of you, and though you’ve worn a groove in your voice the shape of the warnings you give each time, they tangle in your mouth. It is too late to say, drink slowly, to say, stop if it does not feel right, and oh, you are usual say this to a man prone, insensate --

And yet, nothing happens.

It takes time, you know. Your palms itch, eager to reach for your notes, to see if this was too long an interval, if this was a sign that this geas was worse, that the caster was fighting your remedy --

A muscle twitches. The dwarf blinks, raising his hand -- his hand that is now large, now small, that cannot decide its size at all, which is fine since his whole body follows suit, growing and shrinking. His shoulders rounds as his spine stretches, as if he’s hit a wall, some sort of barrier --

And it shatters, like an egg’s shell, his body growing well beyond its confines, the proportion of his limbs and face changing, until --

“Oh!” You whirl around, putting your back to him. “Oh my!”

“Ah,” the man says, his voice reedy, yet not as high as you remember. “I had hoped that this might be better done.”

“Here.” Arturius tosses one of the sheets from the cots. “Cover yourself.”

“I thank you,” the man says, humiliation riding high in his tone. “My lady, please forgive me, I did not think--”

“You...you are--” it is hard to find the words with your cheeks as hot as this -- “you are the lord of Laxdo’s son!”

He lets out a single, pained laugh. “I am afraid I am more than that now, my lady. I am Laxdo’s lord.”

“But--”

“Arturius!” Bedwyr sweeps into the room, ragged. “The men are all waking!”

“Wait, wait.” Shirayuki shakes her head, brow furrowed. “I removed his curse, and now everyone is healed?”

Izana lifts a hand in a lazy shrug. “So it would seem.”

“But...but...” She swivels, fixing on him. “But he didn’t want to be turned back! He wouldn’t let us, not until--” Shirayuki stops, her brain rushing to put the pieces together. “That was part of the compulsion. He wouldn’t let the curse be broken so that we -- so that I--”

She groans. “We could have done this in a day.”

“Welcome to Izanafinder,” Kiki deadpans. “He may not kill you, but he will make you wish you were dead.”

“My name is Shuuka,” the man says, better settled with the sheet around his hips. You still keep finding the wall just over his left shoulder fascinating. If only Bedwyr would be faster at locating the young lord’s costume. “I must admit, I had hoped you might remember it, my lady.”

You grimace. “I am...very bad with names. My father often despaired of it.”

And as in all his wishes, it bore very little fruit. 

“I think I remember that.” He laughs, weary. “It is no matter. I am in your debt regardless.”

“Pray, do not think on it,” you tell him, even as Arturius grunts. “I would not have a soul beholden to me.”

You do not miss Beaumain’s cough, nor the amused way he watches you from the door. Doubtlessly, he would find time to say his piece on that, but it will not be now.

“But, my lady--”

“What would help us most would be if you told us what happened,” Arturius says, oddly strangled. “Since you are the only one that seems to remember.”

Shuuka blinks, as if he had forgotten his prince sat mere steps away. “Of course. I shall explain it all to you.”

“That would be--”

“But first.” He slips his hand around yours, smiling shyly. “We must celebrate how you have saved us.”

“Oh,” you breathe, gaze flying to Arturius. A muscle in his jaw jumps. “I do not think--”

“Please, give me this,” Shuuka insists. “A banquet in your honor.”

You do not look at him, but you can feel Beaumain’s grin as a palpable touch. “Truly, it is not necessary. It was all of us who--”

“Ah yes, then in all your honor!” He squeezes your hand, and gives you a boyish smile that sends you straight back to girlhood. “All the men have been healed, and it would do them good to have a night of merriment.”

You cannot refute it would raise morale. Which would be much needed, once they took in the state of Laxdo’s disrepair. “I suppose...”

He leaps to his feet, thankfully taking the sheet with him. “Then a banquet it is!”

Shirayuki buries her face in her hands. “Oh my.”

“Oooh,” Obi croons. “Looks like you got some competition, my liege.”

Zen frowns. “Oh, shut up.”

[lovemesomesurveys]

SEVEN DEADLY SINS Sin 1: Lust 1. Who was the last person you checked out? Did they check you out too? It’s been a looooooong time, honestly.  2. Who was the last person you desired, but they didn’t feel the same? Ty. 3. Ever cheated on a significant other? If so, have you learned from it? No. 4. Do you watch porn? No, not my thing.

5. Do you masturbate? No.

6. Best physical features on your preferred sex? Eyes, smile, hair, jaw line, arms. A nice stomach is nice, too. 7. Who are some celebrities that you think are totally hot? Alexander Skarsgard. 8. Did you ever lust after a best friend’s significant other? How did it turn out? No. 9. When was the last time you had sex? I’m a virgin.  10. Ever pursued someone, even though they were taken? No. Sin 2: Gluttony 1. When did you last eat at a restaurant? What restaurant was it? IHOP a couple weeks ago with my mom after doing some Christmas shopping. 2. When did you last have fast food? Where did you get it? For breakfast on Christmas day we had breakfast sandwiches from Jack in the Box. 3. What was the biggest meal you had all day? Nothing so far today, it’s only 1:54AM.  4. Do you have too many clothes? How often do you go shopping? Yes. I need to go through and get rid of stuff. It’s something I need to do soon. 5. What’s something you have a LOT of? Clothes and giraffe stuffed animals. 6. Do you eat a lot? Not really. I should be eating a lot more. 7. What was the last thing you splurged (spent a lot of money) on? Christmas presents. I always get a little too carried away for Christmas, but I love spoiling my family when I can. 8. What do you spend most of your money on (besides bills and anything necessary like that)? Clothes and coffee. 9. Last time you ate candy? What was it? I don’t remember. I haven’t had candy in such a long time. 10. Last thing you ate too much of? I’ve had Wingstop and pizza from my favorite pizza place a lot lately, but I love it. Sin 3: Greed 1. Do you share things? How often? Yes. I don’t know how often? I share what I can, when I can. 2. Someone asks you for a piece of your cookie. You break it in half, but the pieces aren’t equal. Who gets the bigger piece? I always give the other person more of whatever it is we’re splitting. 3. When you see change on the ground, do you pick it up? Rarely. 4. How often do you lend money to people? I don’t get asked often. More often I treat my family to things when I can, but if they ever needed to borrow money and I was able to lend it, then I certainly would.  5. Do you loooove money? Unfortunately, it’s necessary and I’d be lying if I said I wish I didn’t have a little more of it.  6. If someone offers to pay for you, do you decline or readily accept? If it’s my parents or brother, I’ll accept. I feel comfortable enough to, and I pay for them sometimes as well. If it’s someone else, I’ll decline unless they’re really persistent about it, but I’ll treat them the next time. 7. Which of your friends is the wealthiest? I don’t have any friends. 8. Would you take a high-paying job that you didn’t really like just for the money and benefits? Not if I was just absolutely miserable.  9. Ever stole from anyone? What about stole from a store? What happened? Only when I was a kid. I thought the candy in the big candy bins was free. :X 10. Do you ever have enough money? My family and I have a roof over our head, food to eat, clothes to wear, bills are paid, and we have nice things. Things definitely get stressful, though. Some months tend to be harder than others, financially. I, personally, would like to have more of it, but I’m able to have the necessities.  Sin 4: Sloth 1. Last thing you procrastinated on? Life. 2. When you’re at a strip mall and the next store you want to go to is at the other side, do you drive over there instead of take a short walk? I usually just head over there, but it would depend on how far the next store is. 3. What’s a typical day off of school and/or work like for you? I’m finished with school and I don’t have a job, but a typical day for me consists of checking social media, watching TV, watching YouTube, Tumblr, surveys, and resting. Lately I’ve also been playing my Nintendo Switch because I recently got Luigi’s Mansion 3, which I had been wanting to play since it came out. 4. What’s one talent you have that you don’t really work on, even though you have the ability to be good at it? I don’t have any. 5. How many hours of television do you watch a day? It really varies. Most of the time it’s on for background noise more than anything, but it depends on the day and what’s on. I multitask, so I tune in and out to what’s on unless it’s a new episode of a favorite show.  6. What about the amount of time you spend on the internet a day? I’m always either on my laptop or on my phone doing something, even if just watching YouTube.   7. How many hours of sleep do you get a day? Do you sleep in late? Lately, my sleep schedule has been from like 4AM to 12-1PM.  8. Do you drive to places that are less than three blocks away? I don’t drive, personally, but yeah my family and I take the car everywhere.  9. When was the last time you exercised? Uhhhh. 10. Ever copied and pasted your homework from a website on the internet? No. Sin 5: Wrath 1. If you could kill one person and get away with it, would you do it? No! 2. Is there anyone you honestly and truly can say that you hate? Besides myself, no. 3. Is there anyone you want revenge on, whether you want to get them back big-time or just play a little prank on them for hurting your feelings? No. I’m not a revengeful person. 4. Are you fighting with any friends right now? Why? No friends, so no. 5. Last time you were really angry? What happened? Blah. 6. When you’re angry, what do you do to calm yourself down? When I’m angry I shut down and just cry. 7. “Hate is just the fear of loving someone.” true or false? I wouldn’t say that. 8. What’s the best revenge you ever got on someone? I don’t seek revenge. 9. Was there any hard feelings after your last break-up? On whose end was it on? He broke things off with me, and there was definitely hard feelings on my end. He seemed completely unfazed.  10. Ever been cheated on? How did that make you feel? No. Sin 6: Envy 1. Is there anyone you’re jealous of? Name a person and tell us why. This is the envy section and envy and jealousy are different things. I am envious of certain types of people. 2. List three physical features some other people have that you’re envious of (no need to get specific and name people; you can just say something like “brown eyes” or “having perfect eyebrows”). Blue or green eyes, nice, shiny, thick hair that styles well, perfect shiny white teeth, fit bodies... 3. List three personality features that other people have that you’re envious of. Outgoing, intelligent, witty, adventurous, driven and ambitious, talented... 4. Are you a jealous significant other? I’m single. 5. Could you date someone who was really jealous? No. If they’re the possessive and abusive type, then absolutely not. 6. What celebrity’s looks do you envy the most? All the gorgeous ones. 7. Do you think anyone is envious of you? In your opinion, what characteristics (physical and mental) do you possess that you think someone might be envious of? HA, no. 8. What are a few things you wish you were good at? I wish I could play the piano, sing, draw, be an adult... 9. Did you ever date someone, break up, and then see them dating someone very attractive a few days later? Were you jealous of that person? No. 10. When looking at a love interest’s exes, do you often find yourself jealous of their good-looking exes? It has happened. Sin 7: Pride 1. What’s something you brag about a lot (be honest–we all brag sometimes)? I’m honestly probably the most non-braggy person you’ll ever meet. There, I guess that’s me bragging about something.  <<< Haaaa, same. I have nothing else to brag about. Also, bragging isn’t a cute look anyway. It’s one thing to be proud of yourself and your accomplishments, but bragging is another level. 2. What physical features do you take the most pride in? None. 3. Are you satisfied with what you have? Some things. 4. Be honest… when someone is telling you something, do you often change the subject so it’s about you and your accomplishments instead? Nooo, I’m very much the opposite. I shift the conversation away from me and towards them.  5. Do you like talking about your achievements? What achievements? 6. Do your parents tend to brag about how well you came out? My parents like to share that I went to a good college and got my BA in psych. Sounds all good when just left at that. Too bad I haven’t done anything at all since graduating and that degree is just collecting dust. I don’t even want to pursue that anymore. I have no idea what I want to do. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to do anything. :X  7. Do you strive to be better than others? Do you think competing with others is healthy? Ha, clearly not. 8. What do you do better than most people? Nothingggg. 9. Do you believe in taking pride in things you can’t control (ex. being proud of your heritage, being proud of your skin color, being proud of your natural artistic ability)? Sure.  10. Who are you competing with right now (it could be anything–classmates for a grade, co-workers for a position, other girl for a guy, etc.)? I don’t feel Im competing with anyone. I’m not even in the running.

[prorevenge]

Have fun explaining the smoking charge to your parents.

There was a fire across the street from a students' apartment building and due to the smoke a number of them were asked to leave by the fire department. As such we had a good number of students staying with us.

Generally I prefer students over adults as A) they're my age and B) for every 1 shitty student I have dozens of shitty older people (prime shitty range is late 40s to early 60s). I usually try to go a little out of my way for students as well, they come in drunk late at night and I'll make them fresh cookies or offer to let them go up onto our roof that overlooks the college campus we're located on, shit I'm technically not allowed to do but I figure especially for students they're paying a hefty price to stay here so the least I can do is try and make it a bit nicer. So it's around midnight and this group of 4 students come in. Two of them are staying with us on their parents' credit card (I only know this because the one kid was lightly making fun of the girl for "having daddy save her" at check-in) and the other 2 are just their friends. We get to chatting and have what to me was a great conversation.

Talk about various things a bit deeper than you normally would with a customer I assume but nothing philosophical. Our plans for the next few years, opinions on cities, how backwoods and reactionary the area I grew up in was (they were also familiar with the area and two of them grew up less than an hour from where I grew up). They joke that they're sad there's no cookies left and I tell them if they give me 15 minutes I can go bake some more. I ask them how many they want and I tell them "honestly you can have as many as you want", and they say one each is fine, but I can tell they want more so I say again "No honestly, you guys can have as many as you want, they're not my cookies and we buy in such bulk they cost like 5-10 cents each". The one guy asks if they could have 15. I tell them that's not a problem at all and go bake them. While they're cooking I say they're free to go up to their room and I can bring them up if they want. They agree to just wait in the lobby so we just continue talking. Again, above average conversation, not getting any weird vibes from them and they all seem super friendly and generally nice. We talk about our parents, the girl whose parents had paid for the room were apparently super strict. They think she's never done drugs, hasn't drank, still goes to church every weekend. She laughs and says how mad they'd be if they knew she was staying at the hotel with a guy(Important). Cookies are done, they head up to their room super thankful and I get that little twinge of happiness from helping to make their night a bit better.

Fast forward about 3 hours. I hear what sounds like tittering whispers and that gasping thing people do when they're crying coming from the basement. I go down the first bend of the stairs (there's a landing halfway down where it turns 180 degrees so you can't see straight down) and two of the girls turn the corner. They look teary eyed, but weirdly are giggling. I assume they got into fights with their boyfriends or something (the group of 4 was 2 guys 2 gals, both dating) and it's none of my business so I just say "sorry I thought I heard something down here, just wanted to check what it was". People seem to cry in open in our hotel a lot and in general crying makes me uncomfortable but especially I don't want to deal with crying at my job. Go back to what I was doing and I have a window open due to the weather so I get a big backdraft that pulls this really strong scent of weed up from the basement. Things all fall together, they were teary eyed from smoking, plus the laughing and their nervousness. Plus there's only a microwave and ice machine in our basement and they weren't using either.

So I go back down to the basement and they elevator door is just closing. I can smell weed prominently once I get to the actual bottom of the stairs. Our elevator is slow as fuck and I figure I can just take the stairs and catch them at their floor. I get there and they must have just beat me because I hear their door close as I reach the landing. Get to their room and I can definitely smell weed. Now I'm an avid smoker. There was a time in my life where I was high nearly 24/7 for the better part of a year. I've since cut back to a few times a week but still smoke heavily. I don't have a problem with weed or even smoking in the hotel as long as people are discreet about it. I have a schpiel that I give guests when I catch them smoking. We're supposed to have no warnings and just charge them a $250 "deep cleaning" fee which is really just shampooing the rugs and washing the curtains but I think that's way too much so despite having caught maybe 30-40 people in the time I've worked here I've only charged one person and that was only after 2 warnings and him being a real asshole every time. Anyways my schpiel generally goes "I'm not implying you were smoking but as a note there is a $250 charge if you are caught smoking inside the hotel. We also reserve the right to remove you from your room, as part of the agreement you signed at check-in. Now I'm sure none of us want that so just if you were smoking please limit doing so to outside the hotel or stuff a towel under the door turn on the bathroom vent and open the windows. At this time I'm not charging you, so with that I hope the matter's taken care of" and 95% of the time they agree and are thankful for getting off so there's no problem. I knock on their door and no answer. They had just gone in the room, I saw the door closing so there's no way they don't hear me. I knock again. I can hear them whispering in their room. It's that pathetic whisper drunk/ high people do that's way too loud to not be heard (even through a door). I'm quoting them but obviously it's not exact, just what I remember.

"Oh my god he followed us into the basement and then followed us back up here. So fucking creepy". I knock again "Guys just act like we're not here and he'll leave" "What's that pussy gonna do" "I dunno I'm just going to bed, don't answer the door" the discussion goes on like this for another few seconds, I knock again and they get less focused on the door and more focused on calling me names it seems. Whatever, sticks and stones. Then one of them calls me a faggot and I figure that's about where I draw the line (I had mentioned being bisexual to them). Leave their door and go back to my computer to charge them. Calm down on the walk back and figure I'll give them one more try. Call their room and get no answer. Call back one more time, and no answer. Put the charge on their dads credit card, it shows as SMOKING PENALTY on the receipt (also hooked up to her dads email address I can tell as it matches the name on the card (firstname_lastname at gmail)). Maybe 5 minutes later I get a call at the front desk. Pick up and it's them. "Hey so like we were sleeping and we think we got a call from but we just missed it and it took us a while to figure out how to call you back". I remind them that I saw them in the basement a few minutes ago. "Oh yeah we went up and fell right asleep". I tell them the reason I was knocking was to tell them we have a charge for smoking in the room- and immediately they go on a diatribe about how there was a fire across from their street and that must have been the smoke I smelled. I tell them I understand that but I also know that weed has a distinctly different smell. She admits to smoking but "it was outside the hotel then we came back". I tell her I've been sitting in our lobby all night and as that's our only door in or out, that's impossible. One of the guys gets the phone, same one who called me a faggot. "Come on dude can't you just like let this slide?". "I'm sorry the charge already has been posted, have a nice night". "Fuck you". Click. Looked up the dads email again in their reservation. Type up some facetious "standard" letter that we send out for smoking penalties so there's no way she can deny it to her parents. Say they had been given multiple warnings, and that the smoke smell had been independently confirmed by two separate workers. Even find a way to naturally worm in there that she was staying with a separate guest (saying it's a guy might make it too obvious I feared). In case he just doesn't notice the penalty charge on the receipt I figure a separate email will ensure he sees it. And I get that little twinge of happiness in seeing shitty things happen to shitty people.

(source) (story by Fawxhox)

[sirro85-blog]

Dark Horses 3

Becca felt a bead of sweat run down her face and felt it run onto her top lip, as she panted heavily it must have caught on her breath because she saw the drop fly though the air. Out of options she fell backwards and rolled desperately to her left kicking out, there was a solid connection and her on rushing attacker stumbled, Becca had a moments glimpse of an exposed jaw as both arms shot out to break their fall, she snapped out a heel and felt the crack as it made connection.

"Fucking lucky!" Yelled Sergeant Knickers from the edge of the ring as Petra jumped up to check on Barbie.

"No kidding, shit she's fast," Becca lay flat on her back gasping for breath, "I need to stop relying on being taller than all of you."

"Yes, you do," said Kovac, "you need to remember what are stopping blows and what are just pointless combatives that look pretty."

"Like you're a shining beacon of variety Mr I'll-just-punch-them-into-submission. Get in the ring and show me something that isn't counter striking," Panther jeered vaulting the ropes and beckoning Kovac.

"Hardly a fair fight, I've got damn near a foot in height on you and I'm probably twice your weight, not sure this is gonna prove much," Kovac said waving her off. "Besides I've proven it repeatedly, I can't hit girls, I remember those nuns who raised me and I can't do it."

"If we get Dorman down later?" Asked Becca.

"Oh him I'll hit," Kovac agreed, "sergeant-major, a word," he called to Panther.

"Wolf has been in touch, Fluke has successfully defended three transports. It shouldn't come as a surprise that it's the Galax. Its always a smash and grab job, any organised defence and they give up." Kovac said as he walked down the hallway, Panther having to scurry a little to keep up.

"Wolf has asked if a second troop can join him, I'm going to go out to the Towoli and take a look at the situation with the Bartuq. 2 Troop will accompany me and Gilly's aux troop is going to go out and get set up. Dorman and 3 Troop will stay here and move out to assist Wolf if necessary." Kovac pushed open his door and gave his sergeant-major a nod.

"Yes sir, And you want me to..." Panther felt her voice have a slight upwards inflection as she spoke annoyed at her uncertainty.

"To oversee all this and keep it off my desk sergeant-major."

The door closed, Panther cursed inwardly, this new position kept overwhelming her, she had served under Kovac to one degree or another for over 10 years now but this was the closest she had ever worked with him and suddenly she found him intimidating and found herself unsure around him.

Panther was heading for her office when she met Knickers, the taller woman was looking the other way as she approached and in profile the thin cheeks and slender nose made her seem particularly striking, as she so often did Panther's eyes traced the scars on Knicker's forearms.

"Sir," Knickers turned to Panther, "the captain said you'd have orders."

"Yes, 2 Troop will be heading out to the Towoli with the Major, as will 4 Troop, the auxiliaries, let Staff Frank know will you?"

"First deployment, uhh, any advice?" Knickers asked.

"Talk to the captain if you have any questions and rely on your section commanders and their 2IC, remember your job is to see them do their job, not do it for them and don't worry, you were given this job for a reason," Panther realised she should take her own advice.

Wolf nodded as Dorman entered the room, he gestured at the table and said, "you get a look at the plans on the journey?"

"Yeah, looks solid, we can probably push through their defences before you swing in, means it makes more sense for you to roll up behind us and break their centre." Dorman said.

"If you think so, you'll need to hammer them in that first assault though, we need to be amongst them before they know it or they'll rabbit."

"You worry about drawing them in, let me worry about the attack," Dorman replied, "Now, more importantly, did you know Sharon was married!?"

Wolf stared at his friend for a few moments and closed his eyes, "dude..." he said his voice pained, "in three months she never once had you round to hers, she had a patch of lighter skin on one finger and never used her communications when around you." Wolf stared into middle distance, "I think at this point bud, just assume you're catnip to bored, married women."

"I swear I'm not looking for married women!" Dorman said rather pathetically in Wolf's opinion.

"Look, I don't know what to tell you, maybe ask them outright? You're not the sort of guy who wants to date married women, you're not amoral...you're not Kovac but you are gonna get your ass shot if you keep sleeping with these women, especially on Pelcar-3."

"That's a bit hard on Kov, dude wasn't intentionally sleeping with married women," Dorman said.

"No he just slept with anyone he could and didn't care...Look at some point the five of us will sit down with some drinks and we can argue the right and wrong of sleeping with married people and we can all laugh at Becca as she ties herself in knots trying to justify being the other woman to both the husband and wife but as far as I'm concerned if you know someone's married they should be off limits. Now, are your troop ready to start a dry run or do you want some time?"

Dorman had a few more moments of looking wretched, "No it's fine I'll dig Sergeant Webb out and we'll start an exercise."

Sergeant Glover didn't like it when his men had to stop being soldiers, he had no regrets in the choices he had made in his life and he would always be proud of the loyalty in his heart but when soldiers turned mercenaries were asked not just to take off uniform but to start playing sneaks he was unhappy. That being said, Captain Wolf's plan was sound and more importantly Major Kovac had signed off on it.

"Ty, Costa you two are no longer soldiers but that doesn't give either of you leave to carry bowie knives on your damn belt," Webb snapped.

"Interestingly sir did you know that the bowie knife was named for the man who carried it not it's creator and the man it was named for may have been mostly fiction infact..." Ty began but was cut off by Sergeant Webb.

"Not now damn it Ty, a bayonet is enough, who needs so many damn blades?"

Sergeant Glover watched this exchange and knew the response before it came.

"Major Kovac carries karambit knives and so does Captain Wolf, I've seen Captain Becca carry 3 or 4 Wasp axes," Costa started up, "Not to mention Corpo I mean Sergeant Knickers carrying..."

Webb cracked his fist into the table top, his voice cold and hard, "when the operation is over, you will come to me and we will discuss the addition of equipment to your standard issue, until that time, take off the damn blades."

Glover knew this would happen, once you left the army rules were harder to maintain, order could be lost. His own men knew that to carry a non-issue weapon they had to prove they knew how to use it which is why most carried a bayonet and why the captain carried a BC-41 and a push dagger on top of the karambit knives the men knew about.

Webb joined him shaking his head, "I dunno Fluke, why do they all want to be Rumble? What's that stupid phrase the SM says?"

Glover winced at the mispronounced name, "it's Rambo, and the SM says "guns for a show, knives for a pro."

Webb shook his head again and glared at Ty and Costa, "If those two weren't my best I'd kill them and bury their bodies to save me my misery."

"Problem is Captain Dorman finds 'em funny," Fluke said as close as he'd ever get to criticising the commissioned officers he'd grown to trust.

Webb grunted and started to move off, "Fluke once we're in you'll need to come hard to keep the roll going."

Glover nodded, certain things didn't need saying in his opinion.

Wolf watched as the raider vessels came alongside the freighter, for the first time since he'd started defence they were able to pull alongside and dock. Within minutes they were on-board and moving deck to deck. Timing in his head, Wolf guessed that Glover must have moved into position, he signalled Dorman that 1 Troop were on the move.

The transmitter chirruped as Wolf's message arrived, "alright!" Dorman shouted, "the raiders are engaged, time to take out their bolt hole before they know it's engaged."

3 Troop were moving quickly, Dorman pulled his men forward while 3 section dropped back with Sergeant Webb, this first part needed to be quick and quiet.

Wolf watched as Fluke and his section sprang the trap, the Galax raiders had fallen back towards their vessels as soon as the Dark Horses had engaged, and now as they neared them Fluke - already secured their ships - struck from the rear cutting through their numbers.

The second message from Wolf confirmed they were on route, Dorman gave the command and his men launched their assault. The design of the Galax position meant that the only way in was a frontal assault but human weapons and munitions should blast through the entrance and then it should be a case of room to room and making sure the Galax couldn't escape with their equipment to continue raiding, in those close quarters the Dark Horses training should do the job.

Dorman watched as Gray led his fire team forward and placed detonators. In position now Dorman saw no point in delaying, he gave the signal.

Wolf willed the distance to close as they sped towards the Galax position, now they had engaged he had more doubts about allowing them to assault in two waves, as they slowed he sprang from his seat, Fluke moving too. They found a young riflewoman at the breach, alone.

"Mfene, isn't it?" Wolf asked, "where's your dual?" Soldiers were never left isolated like this in combat.

"Ito is inside, went in to protect the medics sir," Mfene answered.

"The medics are inside!?" Wolf bit back a curse and ran forward.

The Galax compound was basic in its layout, built into a cliff face it had a high fortified wall that Dorman had breached with a centre compound filled with the Galax raiding vehicles, behind which three tunnels ran off, the centre tunnel was known to be more heavily fortified. Dorman's men were supposed to be in the left and right tunnels but possibly a third of them were engaged in a firefight with the centre tunnel defences.

Wolf pulled up as he scanned the fight, Dana and the other medics were in one corner they seemed to have half a dozen patients, two Riflemen stood guard over them. By all evidence the remaining soldiers were in the two other tunnels.

"Banjarjee take two section and sweep the two outer tunnels, O'Shea with me, clear the outer defences of the central tunnels, Flowers, 3 section should be prepared to provide fire support. GO!"

O'Shea ran forward, Wolf close behind him, as they reached the combatants Wolf signalled to Sergeant Webb who gestured his acknowledgement of the plan and had his men pull away from the centre, smoke grenades and other ordinance sailed through the air and with a roar the men of 1 troop launched themselves into the tunnel.

The fight was bloody but over quickly, the injury count was less following the second wave but still over a dozen troopers were needing medical treatment back on base.

Little was said as the Galax vehicles were destroyed and their weapons confiscated. With the loss of their attack vehicles the surviving Galax would be arrested by local authorities and usually moved on to less criminal activities provided no other raiders tried to recruit them.

The journey back to Pelcar-3 was subdued, word passed that Kovac and 2 Troop had returned following the officers reports from the Galax engagement.

Once returned to the Dark Horses compound Wolf pulled his men to a debrief in a separate corner leaving 3 troop to handle their own injured and return certain kit to stores. Dorman was checking weapons back into the lockers when the Quartermaster approached him.

"When you're done here Hero, the Major wants to see you in his office," the derision in her voice was stronger than normal.

"I'll be there after I've checked on my men in med-bay," Dorman replied, not looking up.

"I'd avoid Staff King right now Hero, and I'd not be late for Kovac, I believe it's an interview without coffee," growled the Qm.

Dorman stared after her as around him a slight muttering spread among the men, turning to his sergeant Dorman asked Webb to take over the checking off.

Ten minutes later Dorman knocked on Kovac's door, for once closed. Inside Kovac sat behind his desk, unusual for a man who tended to sit on his desk as often as use it.

"You changed the plan, I understand it was your choice though Captain Wolf was at pains to tell me he agreed." Kovac didn't greet his captain.

"Yes sir, I assessed the enemy's strengths and concluded my troop capable of the task, which they were, I believe we would have been successful with or without the support of 1 Troop."

"You believe...this isn't 1914 Captain, we don't measure success by numbers dead, them more than us? Oh it's a victory. You believe..."

"I believed my men capable of..."

"You believed," said Kovac raising his voice for the first time as he stood up, "The hype, you believed our own propaganda," Kovac put on a sing-song voice, "Humans we're bigger, badder, rougher and tougher, believe me brother their ain't no other," his voice changed to one high and clear with careful enuncuation, "hard to stop and impossible to kill the human is a deathworlder that is capable of preternatural feats," Kovac's voice returned to normal, "damn it Dorman, you behaved like...like we're damn space orcs, expendable in numbers and unbreakable to boot, we may sell ourselves to the galaxy as the interstellar hobgoblin but we know different, we're professional and highly trained. That was bloody amateur hour."

Kovac took a long breath, and sitting down, "Dorman you're a good officer but you have a tendency to think you can do it all, and at times that's good, but you cannot put my men's lives on the line like that again. I would suggest you pay the injured soldiers bonus from your own pocket and a sizeable donation to the fund would be advisable. If you're feeling particularly contrite perhaps letting Wolf punch your teeth out in the ring would be a good idea?"

Dorman looked as though he wanted to reply but stopped himself, he nodded and turned to leave then stopped, "I'm sorry sir, I know you hate your men getting injured, I genuinely believed it was a smart play."

Kovac sighed, "I know you did mate, find that balance between impulse and hesitancy, remember to take a breath and re-evaluate and you'll be a great leader of men. Better angels and all that."

Dorman nodded and left the room.