#i did do a transition period after bringing the plants in before the move when it first got cold

[lurkiestvoid]

While I am indeed slowly unlearning my fear of spiders, I was not prepared to find a freshly emptied egg sac in my Monstera, IN MY BEDROOM, topped with a big proud Garden mama and surrounded by several dozen wriggling grains of sand

[sawbiter]

a field of geranium - yuuji itadori

--

summary ! you and itadori have been together since middle school. when he randomly breaks up with you and disappears from school, you're left heartbroken and completely alone.

warnings / tags ! angst to fluff , exes to lovers , non-sorcerer reader, hopeful ending! implied fem reader, written with a poc reader in mind (skin tone and race unspecified!), past bullying, yuuji is lowkey dumb, reader is stated to be intelligent, lonely reader .. lots of angst. probably not very canon accurate to how curses work but shush.. reader curses a lot lol.

a/n ! hope you guys like this! i loveee yuuji sm .. this probably isnt good i haven't written in a while ;;

--

you remember a time when it felt like yuuji would always be around.

when he would kiss your forehead before classes and during lunch, hold your hand as he walked you to class and write you childish love notes during maths.

you never expected him to break up with you, let alone over text. you'd planned on confronting him at school after he had repeatedly dodged your frantic calls, but when you entered the school, yuuji didn't go there anymore.

it stung. yuuji had been your best friend since middle school, defending you from the bullies who'd pick on you for various things that'd later become insecurities of yours. (sometimes you wonder if those things are why yuuji left.)

going back to eating alone in the single stall bathrooms and having nobody to talk to during passing periods was a hard transition. your parents weren't any help either, telling you that high school relationships never lasted.

(you can't bring yourself to throw away the promise ring he gave you.)

you see him out one day, with a pretty brunette girl, carrying shopping bags for her. you go up to him; he's clearly moved on. (you can understand why. she's gorgeous.) he doesn't seem to notice you.

--

you're sitting alone the class garden for your botanicals class. you remember a time this was your favourite class (it was one with yuuji; go figure.)

now it's filled with bittersweet memories and the grief over someone you know isn't dead.

you're calm as a boy you've never seen before approaches you. your hands are gloved and your hair is a bit messy as you look up at him.

“be careful around here, please. it's class policy not to walk on the soil.” you scold a bit, his boots having crushed one of the plants.

he looks down at you, his face a bit stoic, “sorry.”

“it's alright- did you need something?” you smile at him politely.

he snaps his fingers, frowns a bit, then says “nope,” and walks off.

you'd never seen him before. he didn't even have the right uniform on.

--

“i cannot believe you just made me do that.” megumi rolls his eyes.

yuuji frowns a bit, “i'm sorry but- i can't go up to her.” megumi rolls his eyes as nobara fumes a bit.

“you broke up with her over text. no wonder no girls like you.” she snarks and yuuji just glares at her.

“i had just eaten sukuna's finger! i thought i was gonna die soon anyways!” he argues back,

“well then why haven't you tried to talk to her again? not that she should take you back- i pity the fact that she dated you at all.” nobara speaks as they walk away from the school.

“she probably has new friends anyways, plus she could get hurt, she's not a sorcerer.” yuuji says, his face looking almost like a kicked puppy.

nobara looks at him and raises an eyebrow, “didn't you say you were her only friend? that curse probably attached to her cause she's lonely.” she pops her gum after saying the last sentence.

“even more proof that me being around her is dangerous! plus- what if sukuna gets out around her while i sleep or something?!” he sighs, looking back and sneaking a peak at you in the botanical garden, “she's better off.”

megumi looks at him a bit, “i'm not surprised. you are the self sacrificing type after all.”

“i just think its rude to break up over text with no explanation, you guys were together for so long too.” nobara shrugs a bit.

“if i had spoken to her any more than that, i think i would've tried to stay.“ yuuji frowns.

--

two weeks after the boy approached you in class, your botany teacher dies in a freak accident, or at least that's what the police said. you aren't too sure.

ms. woods was a smart woman. you knew from the lunches you'd spend in her classroom to avoid bullies that she seriously loved plants.

so dying by ingesting a poisonous plant? out of character and frankly, insulting. you know that can't be the whole story.

that boy had something to do with it; it has to be. you look through your yearbooks after he had left; no sight of him. you go through all of your classes, all grades, you ask around. nothing. he didn't go to your school but he walked up to you during botany class and then two weeks later your teacher dies.

it can't be a coincidence. you go nearly crazy over it. you stay up multiple nights. you cry.

you remember when ms. woods called you smart, when she understood your grief over itadori and let you extend your onion cell project. you cry; something horrible happened to her, you just know it.

so, the night you stay in the school way too late studying poisonous plants in her room, you have a good excuse for why you see a huge monster in the hallway.

at first, you think you're seeing things from the sleep deprivation. you blink, rub your eyes and squint. it's still there.

“holy shit!” you jump out of your seat, going for the door to the garden before realizing they're locked, only able to be unlocked via a key- which you don't have.

the monster, a disgusting bipedal amalgamation of red roses, vegetables, cacti and other odd plants was slowly walking towards you.

“what the fuck.. oh my god- what the fuck?!” you shout, your hands shaking as you go to grab the nearest object to defend yourself as you press your body against the door. you grab a glass flask and hold it out as if it's at all a threat to the 8 foot creature in front of you.

the creature groans and you begin to tear up. this is it- you're about to die the same way ms. woods must have. nobody is going to mourn you besides your parents. you're going to die with people thinking you injested a poisonous fucking plant. you shut your eyes tight in preparation as it approaches.

it never does. you hear the creature use ms. woods' voice to cry out as someone attacks it. you peek to look.

its yuuji. and the girl from the mall. and the boy you thought killed ms. woods.

you gasp as they use all sorts of stuff against the thing and- are those bunnies?

“what.” is all you can gasp out as the brunette and the black haired boy run off, chasing the monster.

yuuji looks at you with his puppy dog eyes and you resist the urge to slap his stupid kissable face.

“yuuji, what the hell is going on.” you say, but it comes out as more of a statement than a question.

“i.. um..” he looks back at the two he came with who are now chasing the monster down the science hall, “that's the curse ms. woods left behind.. we're getting rid of it.”

“a curse? and- and you're fighting it?” you ask, puzzled.

“i promise i can explain but,” he pulls you into a tight, squeezing hug, “I was so worried. A special grade curse against you- I was terrified that we'd be too late. We didn't notice in time to get it before it tried to hurt you.”

“did it kill ms. woods?” you ask.

he shakes his head, “no- the grief from her death created that.” you gasp.

“I made that?” tears spill as the adrenaline settles.

“no!” yuuji pulls away a bit, looking at you put still holding onto you, “no. you didn't- it's not your fault. oh my god, it's not your fault- i love you please don't blame yourself!” he hurries to reassure you.

you sob into the crook of his neck, “yuuji- you.. why did you go? i was so lonely. it's been so hard.”

he can feel his heart break as he squeezes you once more in his embrace, “i'm sorry baby- i'm sorry.” yuuji soothes you, rubbing circles into your back, “i didn't want you to get hurt but- it happened anyways.”

after several minutes of silent comfort, you pull away, wiping your tears before giggling.

“where'd you get those face tattoos?” you sniffle and laugh.

yuuji laughs too.

“it's a long story.“

you smile, “tell me about it. i wanna hear.”

[thecreaturecodex]

Abyssal Maw

Image © Wizards of the Coast, by Thomas Baxa.

[The abyssal maw is one of those monsters that was first created for the Chainmail Miniatures game in the 2e/3e transition period, and has managed to hang on since then. I have a fondness for this little creep because I have a mini of it, and it works splendidly as any manner of gross, strange monster.

The reason I’ve waited until now to convert it, as opposed to covering it in various D&D 3.x or 4.0 themed blocks, is that it finally has a special ability that’s actually fun at the table. The original could “rend fallen”, which did bonus damage to prone opponents. Since the abyssal maw had no way to trip enemies, this meant that the logical way to use it was to have it attack fallen characters, which would almost certainly take them from disabled to dead real fast. Not fun at the table. Whereas the “rampage” ability in 5e rewards them for moving away from fallen enemies, giving the rest of the party a chance to save an injured ally. Which is much better game design for keeping low level characters engaged but alive.

I also very much like the idea, introduced in Volo’s Guide to Monsters, that they actually serve as conduits to the Abyss. In that book, the “maw demons” open straight into Yeenoghu’s stomach, but I moved them away from being tied to a specific demon lord. After all, the Abyss is renowned for being grossly biological; what brings in all the raw materials? I was teaching matter cycles in freshman Bio before winter break, which may have influenced my thinking here.]

Abyssal Maw CR 1 CE Outsider (extraplanar) This squat creature has six limbs, all of which seem capable of serving equally well as arms or legs. It has mismatched eyes surrounding a gaping maw splitting its body in half, packed with a forest of teeth.

Abyssal maws are demon-like creatures that are perpetually, ravenously hungry. Their name truly describes them, as they are the maws of the Abyss itself—anything eaten by an Abyssal maw travels between planes and is deposited somewhere in the many profane corners of the Abyss. It is Abyssal maws that keep seas of blood and ichor, swamps of feces and meat, and deposits of fouler, less identifiable organic material pouring into the Abyss in such volume. An Abyssal maw will eat anything alive or dead, animal or plant, but their favorite food is anything still screaming and struggling when they get to it.

Abyssal maws are stupid creatures, and their tactics rarely advance beyond “attack the nearest, juiciest looking target”. Once they have felled an enemy, they get distracted and move onto the next one, although once the battle has calmed down they will return to and devour anyone or anything unconscious or dead on the battlefield. They do not coordinate attacks with each other, and may be baited into attacking each other by clever foes. An Abyssal maw instinctively will not attack a true demon or qlippoth (although they will scavenge from their corpses).

Most Abyssal maws roam the Abyss itself, eating weaker things that they come across, but some are found on other planes as conduits between worlds. Material Planes are their ultimate destination, and demons often transport or invite Abyssal maws across planar borders. On the Material Plane, if a powerful demon of greed or gluttony (such as a nabasu or nalfeshnee) dies, Abyssal maws disgorge themselves from its corpse and roam forth. Thus, even killing a demon might not fully stop its depredations, and Abyssal maws can be found wandering in almost any habitat. An Abyssal maw is unharmed if in an area that blocks planar travel (such as the area of a dimensional lock spell), but they grow increasingly frantic and uncomfortable, vomiting up almost all that they eat.

Abyssal maws can understand Abyssal and even attempt to speak it, but their mismatched teeth and lolling tongues render their speech unintelligible even to demons.

Abyssal Maw          CR 1 XP 400 CE Medium outsider (chaos, evil, extraplanar) Init +3; Senses all-around vision, darkvision 60 ft., Perception +4 Defense AC 13, touch 9, flat-footed 13 (-1 Dex, +4 natural) hp 13 (2d10+2) Fort +4, Ref -1, Will +2 Immune charm effects, fear, poison; Resist cold 10, electricity 10, fire 10 Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee bite +4 (1d8+3) Special Attacks rampage Statistics Str 14, Dex 9, Con 13, Int 5, Wis 8, Cha 8 Base Atk +2; CMB +4; CMD 13 (15 vs. trip) Feats Improved Initiative Skills Climb +6, Perception +4, Stealth +4, Swim +6 Languages Abyssal (cannot speak) Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abyss) Organization solitary, pair, troop (3-8) or ravage (9-20) Treasure incidental Special Abilities Rampage (Ex) When an abyssal maw reduces a creature to 0 hit points or fewer with its bite attack, it may move up to half its speed and make another bite attack as an immediate action. This movement does not provoke attacks of opportunity.

[touchmycoat]

on Promising Young Woman

i was hesitant to watch bc i knew a spoiler, but @trixree convinced me to watch it and i’m very glad i did. all things aside, it’s just damn well-written—pacing’s top-notch, every act shift was action-driven with a female lead, and it balanced the pleasure of a revenge fantasy against the soul of the story SO well.

thoughts & spoilers below

elephant in the room: yeah I hesitated to watch the movie because I know Cassie gets murdered in the end. After watching the scenes that followed, I...have a better understanding of why that was the choice. I still hated that it happened, period. I literally said “fuck you” out loud to the morning after shot, with the sunlight pouring down on her in the white outfit and she had her arms outstretched—yes, she’s a martyr, yes, she’s the “morning angel,” but fuck that, I didn’t need her to be a martyr. I so desperately wanted the movie to give her more than that.

Like Jenna and Wesley said, it was a superhero movie. That lasted until the choice to kill her.

Thoughts on why they did it: for the ironic morning after, where the audience sees not-Zac Efron sob and whine about how he’s going to lose his marriage and family and job after he just knowingly murdered a woman. Where we get to see Schmidt (fnjdnfjdnf what a casting choice, i lost my mind) say the words to Al Monroe that women like Nina needed to hear—it’s not your fault. None of it was your fault. We get to see the violent and continuous forgiveness of men that dead girls have and continue to pay for.

But my question is, what part of the movie managed to give the audience comfort that legal authority is the solution to this problem? The ending felt squeaky clean wrapped-up, yes, but the anxiety that ran deepest for me throughout this entire film was the fact that Cassie was leaving these men alive. All the men she’s found in the clubs, the man whose car she smashed, the entire law firm that specializes in burying rape cases—to me, every man she left alive was one more factor that could come back and bite her. That was my concern, and it was by no means alleviated by the scene with Bo Burnham and the detective right before the wedding.

I guess that circles back to the question of what the film is trying to be, though. It’s a different take on a revenge thriller. It isn’t meant to deliver a smash-burn-kill catharsis. Rather, it operates on a realer level. Which I love, actually! When she told the fedora guy that she’s not the only one who does it, it felt like a very enticing call-to-action lmao, and like a moment that ought to haunt the “good guys” that watch this film. The movie did so well to manifest and deliver the “enough is fucking enough” attitude that everybody ought to have about sexual assault under the influence.

More on why they killed Cassie: to really lean into the specter of Nina who has so haunted the entire narrative. Even handcuffed to the bed, Al Monroe never said the word “rape.” Nobody wants to, they keep skirting around it and refusing to acknowledge it for what it is. That’s why the movie does it for us, the audience. Instead of saying it, the movie gives its thesis on what rape actually is—a murder. A squeezing-out of a woman’s existence. Al Monroe rapes and kills Nina Fisher before the start of the movie, and the movie ends with Al Monroe killing Cassie. It ends with the violent burning of Cassie’s body, and fucking Schmidt kicking her hand with the childishly painted nails back into the bonfire. The parallel destruction of women is evident.

Did the ending feel like enough of a resurrection?

On a fandom level, I am happy to do the work of seeing the Romance in it. Cassie evidently anticipated her own death, perhaps even sought it—it’s easy to picture a fic focused on Cassie’s thoughts pre-bachelor party, where she’s just so happy to finally be joining Nina again. Where she gets to sign a text Love, Cassie & Nina. I fucking adore how much of an agent she was in the action throughout the entire movie, and the ending definitely did some work in resurrecting that agency.

On a real life level though, I’m so, so fucking sad she essentially had to commit suicide to get the justice she sought. She really is a martyr, but no part of the story indicated she was happy to be. There’s no relief in what she chose—it was simply what had to be done, because nobody else would do a goddamn thing.

Oh boy, the movie did so well to play Ryan as a good guy up until the very end. When time came for him to own up to his mistakes, he flipped like a fucking dime. Suck it #NotAllMen.

The evocations of childhood were interesting. We have the notebook, the scrunchie, the pink bedroom, the childhood photos, the juice box, the friendship necklaces, the painted nails. What is that doing?

- It’s a visual touch point for the arc words “we were just kids!” used as a protestation by rapists and assaulters to excuse their actions. Men get to be “kids” who made mistakes, women get repeated insistence that their actions have consequences, that they shouldn’t have gotten that drunk.

- It signifies Cassie’s vulnerability, her childhood best friend that she’s never been able to move on from. Functionally, I thought it was a brilliant way of grounding how tender the center of her story is, that she’s actually operating from a very simplistic point of pain and loss, considering how cool and violent she gets to be throughout most of the movie.

- It becomes a symbol for destroyed innocence when it’s the last bit of Cassie we see before her body’s burned. The movie re-positioned the meaning of this word “innocence,” I think. It’s not about women being ruined after rape, it’s about these women being people. Cassie’s last monologue about Nina does so much work to hammer that home—Nina’s value was never about innocence before or after her assault, it was never diminished. She was loved because of who she was as a person, but Al Monroe squeezed the life out of her anyways. Childhood and innocence become about the happiness that existed before men attacked, and the men get to symbolically destroy it one more time with a kick into the pyre. But then comes the resurrection, and in a way, the movie returns Cassie to that happiness with the last texts she got to sign with her best friend and a winky face.

The penitent lawyer was a hell of a narrative choice. I did accept it, and I like it mainly for what it showed of Cassie—that she is capable of forgiveness. By putting the scene with Nina’s mother right after, it transitions Cassie into a spot of hope pretty damn effectively. I also like that it didn’t take Cassie’s emotional labor to get the lawyer to that place, and that he was already self-flagellating (the dead plants behind Cassie in that apartment were a great touch) before she got there. I like the possibility that Cassie could have forgiven herself for not being there for Nina.

That’s why I’m so damn mad she’s dead!!!! She recognized how destructive her pattern of behavior is, and put an effort to stop that for herself and for her relationship with people she cares about. Yeah, Ryan proved an asshole, but it wasn’t even about him!! She laid it clean out for that guy!! No forgiveness. He was not an innocent bystander. He does not get to get away with anything, and all the ways he chose to behave after the fact just further proves it!

Cassie was stunning, and dangerous, and incredible. Narratively, she really could have gotten away with it. I don’t want to buy this finale, that it takes the destruction of another woman to bring justice to the first. I don’t care how neatly framed it was, that was not a happy ending.

[notyetneedcoffee]

Soul Seer, pt. 15

Loki Master List

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: just fluff!

Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers.

 Your fingers trailed along the steel frame of the wall of windows lining the walkway. Outside the sun gave the illusion of warmth, even though you knew it was cold. For the moment you aimlessly wondered, having free time before meeting with Steve and Natasha. You’d begun learning to fight a few months back.

Since staying at the Compound, Loki spent most of his days working with Banner, occasionally meeting over video conference in disguise with the other members of the worldwide team Stark put together to plan the energy migration. There was a lot of work to be done, and it needed to happen at human pace… or at least a Stark and Banner pace… because Loki was supposed to be dead.

A flash startled you from your musings. Out in the lawn now stood Thor, looking serious. His eyes moved quickly about, and when they landed on you a bright smile lit his face. Odd, you thought the windows were solid black from the outside.

Thor pointed to the end of the building. You knew a door led outside there, so you began to walk in that direction. His long strides allowed him to be inside and climbing the open stairs to the second floor. His booming voice echoed down the hall as soon as he saw you.

“Ah! Lady Y/N!” He smiled. “How fare you?”

“Well,” You accepted his warm hug. “I’m doing well here.”

“And my brother?”

“Way better than I ever would have thought.” Steve Rogers’ voice interjected from the stairs. “When did you get here?”

“Just now.” The two shared a back slapping greeting.

“Come on down,” Steve motioned to the elevator with a tilt of his head.

The three of you descended to the lower laboratories of the complex. You could see Bruce leaning against a work table, one arm wrapped around his middle and the other hand rubbing his forehead. Loki paced the room talking animatedly with his hands.

He wore your favorite dark green silk shirt. It always made you want to rub against him. You paused at the door, admiring his graceful strides. Bruce must have thought your hesitation was something else, because he waved you in and met you at the glass sliding door.

“We’re just on audio.” He spoke quietly.

Loki argued with someone on the line about power consumption. His voice, not his own, sounded higher and with a distinct eastern seaboard accent. “I can assure you, Mr. Archer, this solution is not a temporary one. The need for your power plants to run on fossils will be forever obsolete.”

“If you think we’re going to leave our shareholders hanging while…” The anger in the man’s voice was unmistakable.

“This guy just won’t buy in.” Bruce rolled his eyes.

Loki saw you and waved you closer. Your arms automatically slid around his waist as his right arm pulled you closer. His body language looked calm and relaxed. He felt calm and relaxed to you. However, his voice held an all to human tension when he spoke. “I don’t want to call in the Council, Mr. Archer.”

This set the man off again. Loki just grinned.

“I’ll be calling the Secretary of Energy and Senator Rowlins about this.”

“Please do.” Loki replied. “Let them explain it you. You need to remember we’re offering this five year transition period and incentive package so your shareholders won’t unduly suffer. But if you refuse to adapt your plant to the new technology obtained from the alien research, or some other form of renewable energy, you’ll just be forced out of the game.”

“Do not dictate to me, young man!”

“No, I’m just pointing out your choices. Adapt or die, that’s the way of things. You’re being offered good recompence and decent amount of time. The Council could just release this technology tomorrow. What would that do you shareholdings?” Loki grinned.

You absently rubbed you fingers over his silk clad stomach. He loved this, upsetting these people’s world order, causing chaos in their shelter selfish worlds. It fed his mischievous nature.

“You’ll be hear from our lawyers!”

“Can’t wait.” Loki touched a button, ending the call. He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Miss me, my pet?”

“Always.” You grinned.

Thor and Steve watched the two of you from the hall. Cap leaned a little closer, whispering. “I think he really likes making all these world industry leaders dance.”

“What is the Midgardian saying? He’s using his powers for good?” Thor whispered back.

Steve chuckled. “I s’pose.”

“I never thought I would see him so calm.” Thor mused.

“Oh, he gets in a rage, gets frustrated.” Steve buried his hands in his pockets. “But it blows over, and he keeps his word, and so long as she’s safe… that keeps him… balanced.”

Thor nodded, lifting a hand when Loki’s eyes turned to him. A frown crossed the darker brother’s face. He pulled away from you and walked out to the hall. You followed.

“Thor.”

“Brother.”

They stared at one another. Finally, you broke the silence. “What brings you around? Everything okay? Or is this just a social visit.”  

“Father asked me to come.” You felt Loki tense, but gave no indication as Thor continued. “Heimdall has been keeping his eyes on you and reporting on your activities.”

“If Heimdall is watching, then why send you?” He snapped.

“Loki.” You frowned, looking up at him. “Did you mean that to be as rude as it sounded?”

Thor’s brow arched in surprise. Steve bit his lip to hold back a grin, he learned chuckling at the way you corrected Loki was disastrous for everyone.

Loki looked down at your scowl and blew out air through his nose. “It’s old habits, I suppose.” He turned his eyes back to Thor, rewording his question. “So, what is it that Father wants?”

Though not an apology, the God of Thunder could scarcely believe his brother allowed you to admonish him, much less that he would heed your words. He knew the two of you shared a bond, knew that you’d touched each other’s minds. But, he could feel this was different.

“Perhaps we should discuss this in private.” Thor began to venture.

“You might as well spit it out, brother.” Loki rolled his eyes. “I’m not granted anything as privileged as privacy here.” Then he smirked. “Besides, there is no one in this company who would betray a trust.”

Thor crossed his arms and shrugged. “Father sent me, but it was a mother’s bidding.”

“What of mother?” Loki became instantly more in tune. You knew how he felt for her, knew how he missed her.

“She says something rare has occurred, says she can feel it in her magic.” Thor gave a lopsided grin. “Now that I’m here, I think she’s right.”

“What? Dammit, get to the point!”

“She says you’ve taken a mate.”

Loki’s mouth fell open. You and Steve looked at each other, confused. You never said in traditional words but no one doubted that you and Loki loved one another. So why was shock and confusion rolling through Loki’s mind.

“I don’t get it.” Banner looked between Thor and Loki.

“Our kind, our people, love and marry. It’s not unheard of, though they are not always monogamous. Even then there are exceptions, like our parents are now. But even early on, father was known to wander and mother had…”

“Don’t say that cretin’s name.” Loki scowled.

“But a mate,” Thor continued. “A pair that is tied together for the centuries of our lifetimes, is a rare thing. It is more common with the Alfheim, but it occurs with every race upon Yggdrasil. I don’t know if it was the touching of your minds, or if that was just a catalyst to what was destined to be, but I agree with mother. It’s true.”

A mixture of awe and elation filled you, only to be drowned in a crashing wave of sorrow and desperation. Your hand reached for Loki’s, and he gripped your fingers tightly. Tears filled your eyes as you tried to bite back a sob.

Steve said your name quietly, seeing the change.

You looked to him, tears falling silently. “I don’t have centuries. In what will seem like a blink of an eye, I will grow old and die and there’s nothing Loki can do to stop it.”

Cap’s face fell. He knew that heartache and would not wish it upon anyone, ever.

Thor’s strong hand gripped Loki’s shoulder. His other gently touched your cheek. “Do not do this. Do not mourn for what has not happen yet. Live joyously right now. I will tell Mother what I’ve seen. She will not allow such a tragedy to pass, especially when it’s within Father’s ability to prevent it.”

Loki gave him a sad smile. “I am sentenced to a century for my crimes. He’s not going to grant me an Apple with less than one in a hundred years served.”

“Mother is persuasive, you know better than most.” Thor beamed. “It may take a year, or five, or ten, but Mother and I will make Odin see what needs to be done.” Thor turned to you. “You understand of what we speak?”

The Apple of Immortality. You knew. Trying to weed through the bad memories of all the times Odin hurt and disappointed Loki, you searched for all the times Frigga’s influence worked upon their Father. Little concessions for the children to serious matters of state, she did hold sway over her husband. Suddenly you realized she held so much influence, that she used it sparingly as to not abuse it.

It might be okay after all.

You nodded slowly. “You mother is a formidable woman, kind, and she loves you both. Alright,” You smiled up at Loki, wiping your tears away. “There’s no point in wasting energy on worrying. You’re right, we live for today. But, Thor, we’re placing our trust in you.”

His big arms pulled you close, despite Loki’s growl, and he dropped a kiss into your hair. “I will not fail you, little sister. Mother is going to adore you.”

“Stop manhandling her,” Loki grumbled. “She is mine.”

You giggled, slipping from Thor’s bear hug and into Loki’s arms.

“How long are you staying?” Steve asked, not one hundred percent sure of the agreement, but satisfied that you were all happy.

“You need to tell her right way.” Loki answered at the same time Thor boomed “There is time to feast and celebrate!”

You squeezed Loki a little tighter. “We can wait a night. Maybe Thor will get you drunk and I’ll get to take advantage of you for a change.”

Loki’s eyes grew wide before he laughed heartily.

Yeah, you sighed, things were going to be alright.  

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[elianthvia]

7 Reasons Why I Quit

(only for a little bit)

It has, alas, been another few weeks since I posted. I have an excuse for my unpunctuality: I've been spinning non-stop like a top. The conclusion of the last Zoomester and the start of summer are to blame. I have seven partners in crime.

Culprit 1: Puppetry Workshop

Towards the end of the year, DTI (Design Thinking Initiative), in collaboration with the Theatre Shop, hosted an in-person puppetry workshop where a small number of people could participate per covid protocols. In-person events were few and far between this semester, so of course I rushed to sign up. The workshop ran for about 2 hours on three consecutive Mondays. We met in the theatre shop inside Mendenhall Center for Performing Arts.  

The first day we made shadow puppets (and mine was a bee); the second day we made hand puppets (mine was a ... cyclop ghost king?); the third day we made marionette or string puppets (I attempted to make a teru teru bōzu, but everyone thought it a ghost). I had a lot of fun trying different fabrics, re-learning how to use a bandsaw, and magically joining things together with the help of a hot glue gun. (Side note: Polymer chemistry is the magician behind the scene, and I will be learning more about the science of hot glue guns in the polymer class I am taking next semester!) The workshop was surprisingly not as popular as I anticipated, maybe because people were busy as the semester came to a close. The good news is that DTI will be running the workshop again in the fall so more people will get to participate.

(Is she a ghost or teru teru bōzu?)

Culprit 2: Spring Piano Recital

I did not expect to attend a live concert this semester, but I was invited to the spring piano recital as a "special guest." It is a habit I developed while working as a concert crew at Sage, to sit outside the Sweeney Concert Hall and listen to the rehearsals after I finished setting up the stage. That day I was going to do homework outside the concert hall while waiting for my performing friend to finish. The piano instructor spotted me and asked me if I wanted to join. Disbelieving in my good luck, I accepted the invite. About ten students were scattered in the almost empty concert that felt sad and lonesome, but soon music filled the air. I thoroughly enjoyed every performance. Lots of Chopin were played, but my favorite one is Rhapsody in Blue which just entered the public domain this year. All pieces are about or more than a century old, which is not a surprise, but refreshingly, there is a piece by a female composer, Amy Beach, whose granduncle co-founded Bates College. You can find the full program here.

Culprit 3: End of Classes

The end of classes was epitomized by professor-resembling pixels on our computer screens bidding us goodbye. Usually professors would plan something fun for the last day of classes, virtually as well. 

I remember last semester my Multivariable Calculus professor changed his virtual background to a wall of donuts, explaining that during the pre-pandemic times he used to bring a box of donuts for students on the last day. This semester in Mathematical Methods for Physicists and Engineers, we explored the applications of Fourier Transform by looking at the velocity of a star and detecting the number of planets around it. Our last Circuit Theory lab was in person, where we got to listen to a song/piece of our own choice through the low pass filter and the high pass filter pictured below. The professor handed out prizes (cool items she accumulated in conferences) to students to reward them for their participation in the pre-class trivia games. I received a mini glow moon. In addition, our circuits professor left out end-of-class fun packs with origami papers and stickers outside her office. Our last Organic Chemistry lab was also in-person, where each lab group presented their experiments and findings (through a projector rather than Zoom screen share!) My presentation group decided to dress up for this special occasion after a long year of virtual school. Lastly, for Organic Chemistry, we played organic chemistry jeopardy in our last lecture.

With all the professors wishing you a happy summer, you start daydreaming about the sunny beach and breezy wind. Oh wait, you still have final exams to take. All in three days!

Culprit 4: Final Examinations

This semester we had a three-day final exam study period (or reading period) when professors are not allowed to assign any homework or set deadlines. Right after the reading period is our final exams. Smith is known for its flexibility when it comes to exams thanks to its Honor Code system. Many exams are self-scheduled. Some are open-notes, and some are untimed. In a normal year, students go to Seelye Hall to print out and take the exams when they feel prepared. 

For the classes I am taking this semester, I had three hours to take my Math Methods final, a whole day to take the Circuits Theory final, and the entire finals period to take my Organic Chemistry I final. Besides the exams, I had several other writing assignments to turn in. I was very fatigued at the end of the semester, so even though I only had three exams, I struggled to muster up mental energy to study. To make things worse, I got my second Pfizer shot during the reading period and had a pretty bad reaction. As a result, I asked the class dean to give me an extension on an exam, which was generously granted, and I was gratefully less overwhelmed.

Culprit 5: SmithCycle

The finals are now over, but my vacation didn't start yet. I am staying on campus for a few extra weeks to work for SmithCycle. SmithCycle is a program that collects, sorts and redistributes gently used dorm items students donate in the move-out process at the end of each school year. It gives purpose to items of reusable value and creates a more sustainable campus. In the past week, we have collected hundreds of bags (no exaggerations!) of items. Besides clothes, books, school and dorm supplies, some of the unexpected items include coffee makers, brand new water filters, and a monitor. One of my coworkers commented that first-years shouldn't have to shop clothes hangers again while they were going through three boxes of donated hangers.

The winter clothes we collected are going to the International Students and Scholars Office. They have an event called Winter Clothes Closet every fall where international students "shop" for free to help them get accustomed to the New England weather. School supplies will be moved into the Common Goods Resources Center which CEEDS hopes to launch in Fall 2021 (very exciting!). I cannot plug SmithCycle enough. If you are an incoming first-year, visit the Common Goods Resources center before you head to Target! 

I have always been interested in sustainability and renewable energy and want to get more involved. When I saw the SmithCycle worker position posted on Workday, I immediately applied. Every SmithCycle worker's job varies. I am mainly responsible for washing and drying the linens and blankets. When waiting for the washer and dryer, I help with unloading the van that circulates between houses to pick up bags of donations. I also help with sorting. Pictured below is the inside of Scott Gym where all the items are currently stored.

Culprit 7: Summer Housing

As college transitions into summer, students who are staying on campus for some part of the summer had to move out of their spring housing assignment into their summer housing. I moved from Chapin, the house in central campus, to Capen, which is on the periphery of Smith. I know Chapin and Capen sound alike, but they are very different houses location-wise and personality-wise! To make up for its distance to the academic buildings, Capen House has its own garden, Capen Garden. The garden a gorgeous place many current Smithies are missing out on. There is a mini fountain, hedges, a garden temple, a plant arch, and a bizarre owl statue. Look at the last picture of the garden in this blog, and you will agree with me that the Paradise Pond is overrated.  

Built in 1825 and acquired by Smith in 1921, Capen House is named after Bessie Capen, the second woman to be admitted to MIT. She taught chemistry at Smith College. Fun fact: Bessie Capen was once the associate principal of the Mary A. Burnham School for Girls, now Stoneleigh-Burham School; I went there for horseback riding lessons during my first year at Smith. Small world, right?

Case Closed

Thanks for reading this long-ish explanation. I hope my tardiness in delivering this post may be justified by the causes above. To compensate, I will write about my other summer plans and updates in the next few weeks. Stay tuned! Meanwhile, enjoy your summer!

[dailyaudiobible]

12/26/2020 DAB Transcript

Zechariah 9:1-17, Revelation 17:1-18, Psalms 145:1-21, Proverbs 30:32

Today is the 26th day of December welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it is great, it is a joy, it is an honor to be here with you the day after Christmas, right? Left over day, return day, exchange day, all of the things that are traditional. I guess we have to try to find some nontraditional ways of doing some of those things, but this is the day after Christmas where we…we just kind of relax and be together and try to just let the day unfolded. But it is great to be here with you because the day has unfolded that we could spend some time together around the Global Campfire and take the next step forward. I mean we don’t have too many more steps left. This is the 361st day of the year. We actually have 366 days in this year. It was a leap year this year among other things. So, here we are at the 361st day of the year and we will return to the book that we are in in the Old Testament, the second to the last book of the Old Testament, the book of Zechariah. We’re reading from the New English Translation this week. Zechariah chapter 9.

Prayer:

Father we thank You for Your word and we thank You for another week completed in Your word, which…which leaves us less than one full week to go. By the time we finish the next week we will be in a new year, which is on some levels very, very hopeful and we’re looking forward to the fresh start. On another level it's like, “wow, this is where we are. It's almost over. We really made this journey and it's been a year for the books. We’ll never forget this one.” Yet we've mentioned many times Father, we’re still here because of Your faithfulness to us, and we have a hope for the future because You are faithful to us. You are sustaining us. Christmas day that we celebrated yesterday reminds us of Your passion to come in person to restore us. And, so, we rest in that as we just acknowledge where we are in the year. And, so, as we begin to turn the corner and…and move to the final days of this year 2020 we look into Your word and we look to Your word to give us the counsel that we will need in these coming days as we make a transition into a new year. And, so, we take what the Proverbs, what the voice of wisdom that we met back at the beginning of the year, she, the one at every crossroads pointing the way to go, we listen to her today at the end of the year telling us that if we've been foolish by exalting ourselves and others, in other words, if we’ve been proud or if we’ve planned to do something evil that we should put our hands over our mouths. It's stark. That's how wisdom works. It's just simply the truth without nuance. And, so, we take hold of that, carry that forward as we listen to Your word, speaking into our lives about what we’re going to need to carry with us into the new year. And learning to put our hand over our mouth is something that we should carry forward. And, so, we thank You for that gift, that post Christmas gift that You've just given us, the counsel of wisdom. Holy Spirit come and plant that in our lives. Help us to water it so that it can be a shoot, just a little shoot peeking through the ground by the time we get to the new year, something we’re gonna cultivate, water, and care for and watch it blossom into something beautiful as we learn to control our tongues. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In the name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it is the website, its where you find what's going on around here. And, so, be sure to stay tuned and stay connected.

Be familiar with the Community section of the website. That's how you get connected. That’s all the different places that we are on social media. So, check it out. Of course, if you’re using…using the Daily Audio Bible app just press the Drawer icon, it's in the upper left-hand corner and it opens up drawer and then you can access the Community section and the Prayer Wall and all these things, but this is how we stay connected. So, check that out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible here as we approach the final days of a year. Is this an unforgettable year or a forgettable year? Like I think that's the decisions that we have to make over the next few days as we begin to turn our hearts and minds toward goals and dreams and things that the new year might bring, things that a brand-new start might give us. I think this is an unforgettable year for me. I think it's been hard, which, you know, challenge and difficulty and things you have to endure, those of the things you want to forget. But I think we should probably remember because we grew stronger this year. It was hard. That's what growing stronger is. It's hard. And, so, like some of the goals we might have in the new year are to get stronger, physically, like we’re gonna go to the gym and stronger. That's gonna be hard. It will work. It can work. We will be strengthened. We could completely change our health in the next year, but it will be hard and will take discipline and plenty of endurance. And spiritually, we've been doing that all year. And, so, we are stronger. So, we should probably remember. We should probably hold onto it in the new year as we discover some of the things that we have been strengthened, some of the ways that we've been strengthened, they get to finally show themselves. So, looking forward to that. But if you…if you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible then dailyaudiobible.com's the place to go. There is a link on the homepage. If you’re using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner, or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, there's a Hotline button in the app that you can press no matter where you are on this planet or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hey fellow DABbers this is Denise A New Day in Tampa Florida and I wanted to thank you guys for praying for my dad who did pass away at 95 but did come to know the Lord before that. And I especially wanted to thank Esther from Orlando who’s a tremendous prayer warrior and I heard her mention that. So, thank you Esther. I’m calling for prayer today because I find myself in a situation where I’ve been thinking since my dad passed of the fact that my husband passed and then my mother passed and now my dad passed within a five-year time period. And I find myself being one of those people who society looks at as elder orphans, people who’ve lost their parents and…or husband and don’t have children. So, I’m essentially alone. And, so, I just would like to ask for some prayer about how I approach this, what I do, and where to find community so that as I age alone, I won’t do it alone. So, if you could offer a prayer for me, I would really appreciate it. God bless you guys. Have a beautiful weekend.

I was listening to the recording for 18th of December and I heard quiet confidence asking for prayers and asking for the Lord to take her up. My dear, if you’re still here then He has a reason for that, and you have a purpose on earth. I know it can be difficult. It can be frustrating it can be overwhelming. I can’t say I have a clue…I can’t say I have…I…I…I can’t say I know exactly what you’re going through but I might have a clue. I just want to ask you a favor please if you don’t mind. I would like you to think of four things you are grateful for, four things every morning and every evening before you go to sleep. Four things, just four things. It could be anything. It could be thanking the Lord for being grateful for waking up. It could be being grateful for brushing your teeth. You know, it could be being grateful for anything, that you’re still breathing or that you had a delicious meal or that you had a meal that you didn’t even enjoy. Just anything that you are grateful for. Just list the simplest things, doesn’t have to be major. But every morning and every evening try that. You know, it gives you a sense of calm, it gives you a sense of thankfulness. And from my experience if you are thankful for everything, everything, for the air we breathe for every single thing of life there is this peace and this happiness and this joy that comes with it. So, my darling if you will please do this every morning four thing’s you’re grateful for when you wake up, every evening before you sleep four things you are grateful for, for the day, for that day. Just do it for the next two weeks and you’ll see how the Lord will bless you and change your life. Thank you very much and thank you Brian, thank you everyone.

Hello Quiet Confidence from Virginia this is Running Bear in Tennessee and your words were…I hear you and recognize the sorrow of your journey and I spent a lot of time yesterday praying for you and even praying for words to share with you. Read some scriptures for you and prayed to them. Prayed through Psalms 27 where you definitely have your eyes focused on the Lord as you do reflect of wanting to be with the Lord, but you also have the sorrow the journey and that comes out in Psalms 27. And just prayed through that for you and for your family. And then I thought too, about in places of deep sorrow I reflect upon the children of the Bible and how they lived through absolute tragedy and yet are able to demonstrate an amazing love to the community around them. First thing that comes to mind is Naaman the servant girl who is in a foreign land, no real hopes of seeing her family anymore and yet she provides not only love to her captors but direction and obviously lived a life that was powerful, that they took value in her words. I’m praying for you, praying for your husband. There’s a lot of sorrow right there for him as well with you. Love you.

Praise God for Quiet Confidence for you called in to reach out to your family and we, every one of us heard your voice. Everyone of us heard your plea. And God our father in heaven loves you so very much. You were wonderfully made. God chose you to live this life this time right now for His purpose no matter what the circumstances, no matter what the thoughts from the enemy, no matter what the feelings that are affected by the attempts of the enemy the truth will always remain that you are loved, and God loves you. May His Holy Spirit fill you and rest in his love and let you know that He never leaves, He never will forsake you. No matter what it is you’re feeling, no matter what the lies are telling you from the enemy. He will do everything to separate you from God but nothing, nothing can ever separate you from God’s love and your husband’s love who is there beside you to help you and we are here for you. Quiet Confidence, thank you for calling, thank you so much for calling. You will be prayed for every day by this family and the angels in heaven are surrounding you and protecting you and lifting you up at the feet of our Lord. And you are saved. Don’t you ever doubt it. You are home now until God chooses otherwise. God bless you. Leann…

Hi family this is Soaring On Eagles Wings from Canada it’s Saturday, December 19th and I am phoning in to ask for prayer. There are six more days before…no…five more days before Christmas and I haven’t spent Christmas here for many many years. I’m either in Arizona or the with my daughter and family or the beautiful island of Jamaica __. But because of Covid I can’t travel to see I won’t get to see my family. And as Christmas draws closer, I find I’m getting a little bit more despondent. And, so, I’m asking all of my family to surround me with prayers so that in spite of what is happening I will focus on Christ’s birth, what it means to humanity, and the joy of the Lord will be my strength. I am really __ having its ups and downs it’s not easy. So, I thank you for praying for me. I love you all. I pray for you every day. And I wish that all of you will have a beautiful and very special Christmas

Hello Daily Audio Bible family this is Anonymous in Tulsa Oklahoma. I want you to know that I wish each of you, those who speak, those who work behind the scenes, those who just listen a blessed Christmas. This has been a difficult, strange, interesting, awesome, phenomenal, remarkable, different, in all of these ways year and we’re going into a new year with still this just carrying this load, but the thing is is we don’t have to carry it. We can shed it and place it in the Lord’s lap and let Him carry it while we walk along with Him on our path in life. This path is called the journey of life and that it’s not ours to walk alone. He always walks with us as long as we ask Him to. Christmas reminds me of that, that He came to this earth to walk along with us, to show us how to walk in servitude, in patience and kindness and forgiveness and in love. And I love each of you remarkably differently and in all different kinds of ways. Thank you for coming. Know that you’re being prayed for whether you’re here speaking, behind the scenes, or listening. Amen.

Hello Daily Audio Bible family this is Blessed Assurance calling in a prayer for Quiet Confidence in Virginia. I believe she called in on December 18th stating that she had mental issues and she was really struggling. I’d like to lift her up in prayer now. Our heavenly Father holy holy holy is Your name. I lift up to You Quiet Confidence. I ask Lord that You protect her and comfort her, give her peace. Lord I ask that You draw near to her and in doing so she will draw closer to You. Lord God I…I pray that You protect her from the evil one for all that he says in her ear. I ask that you strengthen her husband of 24 years. Please bless and Lord and give him strength to continue to care for her. Give him peace and understanding love. Lord God will lift us up in our process Jesus Christ name. Amen.

[boogiewrites]

Reports & Repertoire 16

Characters: Eddie Brock x Venom x Candace Miller (OFC)

Summary: Candy tries to keep things professional but the media seems more interested in her personal life than her professional offerings. After a night out goes wrong, Candy tries to handle it the mature way but finds that she prefers good old fashion, cold-blooded revenge when it comes to being pushed aside by those in power because of their money. 

Warnings/Tags: Fluff. Angst. Drink getting drugged. The “man” being a real prick. Revenge plots. Protective Eddie and Venom.

Click on my icon then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

After a date night that carried on long after the movie was over, Candy wakes up to to the snoring of Eddie in her ear. As usual, he's wrapped around her, his head by hers, nuzzled into her neck with her arms loosely around the big baby's body. He was blissfully unaware of the vibrating phone on the edge of the bed, but Candy was not.

"Nngh." she grunts, moving and slapping her hand on the bed to get the phone. Venom emerges slowly, like cold molasses as he taps the phone for snooze. "'fanks." she mumbles, as Eddie stirs, his arms moving in to hold her tighter to him, his face rubbed into the pillow before mushing his lips against her face.

"Not yet." he grumbles, his plea making a sleepy smile spread across Candy's face.

"I've got the thing this mornin' babe." she replies before her voice cracks and she clears her throat.

"No thing." is his brilliant retort.

"She's filming at the shelter today Eddie." Venom informs him, his voice the same as always.

"And you have a meeting don't you?" she says in a scolding tone, not making any attempt to move yet, her fingers combing through his warm and soft messy hair.

"Shit." he groans out,  planting his face into the pillow.

"I'll take that as a yes." she chuckles, kissing his temple. Neither make any attempt to actually leave the soft, warm confines of the comforter they were nestled under together. After a night out, followed by a rather rambunctious night in they were both longing to keep up the idea that they could stay snuggled up forever. But alas, it was a weekday and they both had to get back to their less inviting responsibilities.

-------

Candy stands in her three-piece skirt suit on the portable platform in front of the shelter. The press was there, along with a lot of the usual faces of employees and volunteers to celebrate the donation of the network and the full day of talking heads and interviews they'd be shooting. As the character head of the show, it having her name on it after all, she was doing the Press Release and the talking. After the formalities and cover story shots have been done, the questions begin. At first, it's all business as usual, who's idea, who donated the money, why this shelter? But as the head of a gossip mag popped up amidst the more formally sanctioned journalists Candy hides her frown.

"Is it true that you and the former host of this show, Eddie Brock are dating?" she asks without missing a beat and no shame in her face.

"Those questions aren't really appropriate for this event. This is about the people, the shelter, not my personal life."

"You two have been spotted around the city together. With the photos of you two canoodling out, do you still have no comment?" she presses.

Candy sighs, looking over to the producer who shrugs and motions her forward.

"For the sake of transparency, we are dating. But to bring the attention back to shelter, perhaps you'd prefer to know that we have both volunteered here before?" she offers, trying to reign in the follow-up questions. There's a general disinterest as notes are scribbled onto notepads. "Because we have." she offers with a tone of disappointment at the lack of interest.

"How long have you been dating?" another person chirps up.

Candy breathes through her nose and remains composed, but her eyes give away her annoyance otherwise. "I don't want to talk about the specifics of my personal life." she barely gets out before another voice chimes in.

"Were you dating before you took over the show? Is it a conflict of interests to have someone Eddie Brock was dating take over his show?" a man asks, looking to start trouble already.

"We were not dating at the time no." Candy flatly states.

"He thanked you in his awards speech though did he not?"

"He did, but we were not romantically involved."

"Was the speech what made you fall for him?" one of the more fashion-centered local magazines asks. They had given a four out of five star rating to Candy's look for that awards ceremony.

"No, but it didn't hurt." Candy says with a smile, a slight laugh from the crowd at her response and more light-hearted answer. "We worked together before I took over the show and that's how we knew each other. And it was sometime after the awards show that we began dating in an official capacity. That should clear up any further questions on that."

"Is there any animosity with you taking over what used to be his show?"

"No. He turned it down and suggested me for the job."

"How did he feel about getting fired from it before?" a follow-up question is quickly shouted out.

"Okay." Candy purses her lips. "I've indulged the questions enough. If you want to know more about Eddie Brock, ask Eddie Brock. If you want to know more about us from my perspective, book me for that specifically and we'll talk. Otherwise, any more questions about the work here today? This isn't about me. It's about the people here who are far more important than I am." she says motioning to the owners in the crowd.

The day passes, the gossip magazines and local feminist publications having a field day with the new information. As she expected, because she was dating a, to them, straight white man she had lost some sort of points it seemed in their eyes. Her work assistant kept her up to date as the alerts went off on her phone about her and Eddie. She knew it was all bound to happen and she was prepared for it. But being able to be with him openly was worth all the nonsense they could throw at her.

At the suggestion of one of the PA's, they all go out after a long day for drinks. She texts Eddie, letting him know his inbox might be blowing up and letting him know where and what she was up to. A quickly snapped photo of her at the bar, girls on either side of her as the haze of tech bros lurking in the background doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"Why there?" he asks, a wrinkled face at his phone in question.

"One of the PA's suggested it. I regret it already." she laughs and sends.

"Don't let those bastardized Steve Jobs wannabe's get near you. I don't know how to debug any virus they might give you." he jokes. Venom grins at Eddie's attempts to make a joke.

"Nice." he gives a nod of approval over his shoulder as they sit on Candy's couch.

Candy snorts and smiles, wanting to skip the social drinking and just go home.

"Aren't you that girl from tv?" a guy in neon sneakers that probably cost more than she made in a month slides obnoxiously between Candy and her assistant, acting like she didn't exist.

"Aren't you that guy with no social skills?" she asks, eyeballing him up and down, taking a sip of her drink.

"You tv types are always up your own asses." he says, still not moving.

"I don't like guys who roll up between me and my associate here like she doesn't exist. We were in the middle of a conversation."

"How else am I supposed to talk to you?" he asks with a shake of his head.

"Ask if you can interject? Or just... dont." she responds flatly. "You didn't even know my name so you aren't a fan, why would you even bother talking to me?"

"Because I wanted to fuck you?" he says obviously.

"Ugh. Gross." she says out of gut instinct. "Just... go away." she says, holding up a hand to his face.

"Whatever." he says with a roll of his eyes, his obliviousness something he wore proudly.

"Ew. Guys are so gross nowadays." her friend says with a wrinkle of her nose.

"Tell me about it." she rolls her eyes.

"You're lucky to have found someone who's nice."

"Don't I know it." she says with large eyes.

"Hey. Excuse me." a guy interrupts with apologetic body language. "You're Candy Miller right?" he asks with an outstretched hand.

Candy looks down at his hand before twitching her lips in consideration of taking it. "Yeah."

"I'm afraid I might be responsible for that guy giving you a hard time. I'm Mark. That was Seth, he's... well he's a bit of a dick most of the time."

"Yeah he was." she answers plainly, leaving him hanging.

"I mentioned there was a chick from tv here and he just kinda... swooped in." he says with a laugh, trying to break the ice.

She gives him a nod, still not giving over to his apparent politeness.

He withdraws his hand with a frown. "I wanted to apologize on his behalf. I've actually watched your show. It's good. You're good in front of the camera."

"Thanks." she says with a less angry inflection. "For that and the apology." she adds, trying to be a bit more personable.

"No problem. Can I buy you a drink or something to make up for it?" he asks, no sleazy delivery to be heard.

"No thanks." you say with a shake of your head.

"What about you?" he turns and asks her friend. "He just shoved in front of you too." he gives her a smile.

"Yeah, sure." she says with a small shrug.

The guy hangs around for a little while, small talk, nothing of much substance. Candy gets swept away other people, some better than her first encounter of the night and some just the same.  She moves back over to her assistant and has her hand her her drink as she's in the middle of being chatted up by some guy. Candy downs it, the period to the end of the sentence that is her time at this bar for the night. She stands against the wall and makes polite transition out of the conversation. It doesn't take her long to start feeling the effects of the drink. She shakes her head and excuses herself. By the time she's in the back hallway, slamming into the women's bathroom door she knows something's gone wrong.

She sinks into the floor behind a locked bathroom stall door. Her head was spinning in cycles. She rested her head against the cold tile wall as she fumbled with her phone, holding it up and dropping it a few times before finally tapping furiously at the little picture of Eddie in her contacts.

"Eds." she says with a  groan.

"Candy?  Babe you have too much to drink?" he says with a smile, expecting her to just be a bit tipsy and telling him to come to get her.

"No. Something. I think I got the wrong drink." she says, trying to recall the night's events.

"You sick?" he asks, both he and Venom more on alert at the sound of her slurred voice.

"I think she handed me her drink. Or something... someone put something in it." she gets out, her brow furrowed as she presses her back against the wall.

"Shit." he says, already standing and moving to the door to get his shoes and coat. "Are you okay? Are you in a safe place?"

"Girl's bathroom. Same bar." she says, her palm pressed to her forehead.

"I'm coming to get you, Candy. You stay there. Lock the door, alright?" he says, opening up the garage door and rolling out his bike. Venom was rolling through Eddie's brain, learning what he could about what was happening to Candy. He only really knew Eddie was very worried.

"Mmmm kay." she says as he hangs up. She knocks her hand against the door and it doesn't budge so she figures she got it secured. She props herself up against the wall, her feet against the other side of the stall, the walls going all the way down to the floor in each one.  Things got fuzzy after some time passes, she tries to stay awake, but finds herself dozing off.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Eddie asks Candy's assistant as she picks up on the third call.

"Uh yeah?" she says with a clearly unaware tone.

"Someone is putting stuff in the drinks there. Candy is in the bathroom right now. I need you to go check on her. I'm on my way." he says with a more certain and deep tone than she'd ever heard from him. She was used to the boyish and playful Eddie. But this Eddie meant business.

"Oh shit. Okay." she says, eyes wide and a hint of panic in her voice.

"Don't tell me you've been taking drinks from someone besides the bar tender. You're not that stupid." he says as his eyes dart past the cars on the road, knowing Venom was paying attention even if he wasn't.

"No. Uh. I got bought a drink but I hadn't touched it yet." she says. "Wait. Shit."

"Yeah?" Eddie presses.

"Me and Candy were drinking the same thing. I must've given her the new one and not the one she'd had. Fuck." she says as he hears movement in the background. "Hey..." he hears her say softly. "I got her. Well, I see her in there anyway."

"I'm just a few minutes away. Stay with her." he orders and hangs up.

------

After a very long night and having to lose half a day to feeling like absolute garbage Candy recovers. After taking her to the ER with the help of her assistant it wasn't long until the culprit of her sickness was identified and she was given something to keep it spreading and making her worse. Steph sat and held back her hair as she gagged and Eddie sat in the sterile room chewing his nails. He was furious.

After she's cleared, they both take her back home, getting her in bed where Eddie's exhausted body lies next to hers, propped up on a pile of pillows and pulling her to his chest. Steph gets the clear to leave, knowing she's in good hands now.

"Sorry." she mumbles for the thousandth time that day.

"You don't gotta apologize you didn't do nothin'." he says as he has every time. "You got handed the wrong drink. You didn't do anything wrong. It could've been a lot worse. For you or her both."

"I feel so bad." she murmurs against him.

"Go to sleep. Let's go to sleep and we can leave this fuckin' terrible night behind alright?" he says kissing her head, having her rest between his legs, his arms around her.

"'Kay." she whispers, her face nuzzling into the softness of his t-shirt, knowing that for now the worst for over. ------- "Eddie you can't just go out and eat people when someone goes wrong." Candy says exasperatedly with her hands out at her sides in defeat.

"After what they did to you? You don't wanna go out and get revenge?" he asks with a drawn face, leaning in close and speaking in a heavy accent as his anger showed through for the situation.

"I do! But I'm going to try to do an expose on it instead. I'm gonna talk to the network about it and see what I can do. I can do a lot more good that way than just eating some rich pricks."

"I wonder if they taste better or worse." Venom wonders out loud.

"You aren't helping." Candy frowns at the head that hangs above Eddie's shoulder.

"I am on Eddie's side. I want to hurt those who hurt you."

Candy sighs and shuts her eyes a moment, her shoulders slumping. "Listen. I'm trying to go about this the smart way, okay? I'm still worried about people seeing you. In that part of town, there are cameras everywhere. We... all three of us have to be smart about this. We can't go out like a bunch of damn cowboys, guns a blazin' and shoot up the bad guys." she says with a whine.

"But what they tried to do to you..." Eddie says again, his voice breaking with emotion, shaking his head back and forth, turning to pace the floor again.

"I know, babe, I know." she says, moving forward with a huff, turning him back towards her and putting her hands on his face. "But I'm okay. And I'm gonna do something about it alright? Just because we aren't doing something right this minute, doesn't mean we're just letting them get away with it."

He lets out an aggravated exhale.

"I know," she says again slower. "I'm mad too. But we can't act recklessly. We have too much to lose. Right? I don't want to lose you, we don't want to lose Venom. That's what'll happen if you're found out. So let's take it slow, alright? Let me see if there's something I can do first." she says with a pleading tone.

"Kay." he agrees,  his lips tight.

"Thank you. I can't lose you boys. We have to stay together. That means making decisions that don't make all of us happy." she stroke his stubble covered cheeks with her thumbs, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss. "I've got chocolate and beer and food. I can keep you boys distracted tonight. Tomorrow it's back to work and we can go from there alright?"

"Alright." he mumbles.

She mushes his cheeks, pooching out his lips as she smiles up at him. "Thank you." she kisses him again. "Now let's go get some junk food into you." ------- After a thoughtful and heartfelt pitch for an investigative piece on the dangers of drink spiking in the tech community, Candy felt good about the possibilities of shining a light on the particular problem in her city. She waited patiently through the day, all signs from her producer pointing to there not being a problem with doing the piece, as there hadn't been any before.

As Candy washes her hands, checking her hair in the mirror before she leaves work for the day, doing a final touch up to go home to Eddie, her producer walks into the bathroom, her eyes landing on Candy immediately.

"I got word on the piece you wanted to know about." she says, her body language not giving Candy much hope as she walked towards her, her hip against the sink counter as her face stayed indifferent.

"Yeah?" Candy responds with a furrowed brow, crossing her arms over her chest, ready to put up a wall of disappointment.

"The executives don't wanna do it." she says slowly,  her head subtly shaking back and forth.

"Okay?" Candy says, taking a big inhale and exhale, processing the defeat.

"Yeah." the other woman drags out the word, her eyes moving away from Candy's.

"Did they give any reason?" Candy asks with a motion out of her hand.

"They said it would be too graphic."

Candy lets out a loud half mad laugh. "Too graphic?" she pauses, her chin and neck now moving with attitude at the asinine excuse. "On a show where we report murder, sexual assault and violence every week? Too graphic?" she says, leaning forward, her arms back over her chest as her eyes were wide, shaking her head back and forth, her mouth open in astonishment.

"That's the reason they gave." she says with an apologetic smile frown and a sigh. "But..." she begins, then bending over to see if anyone else was in the bathroom that could overhear. She lowers her voice to a whisper, leaning in closer. "I was outside their office while they were discussing it." she says with her eyes shifted up to meet Candy's. "And the truth is that they have donors that are  in the tech scene in town. So they didn't want you causing a scene and getting any of them caught up in it."

"Because any of them that have enough money to donate to a network in their interests are probably pieces of shit too." Candy says with a knowing nod, her face fallen but her mind still racing behind her eyes.

"Yeah I know." she says with the same sad smile, patting Candy's arm. "I'm really sorry about what happened to you. I wish we could do something but..." she shrugs and points upwards.

"Yeah." Candy nods and straightens her posture back out. "Yeah, I know. Thanks. I'm not mad at you just... the whole sitution."

"You filed a report and everything though right?"

"Yeah, when we went to the hospital." she says while her eyes move across the busily tiled floor.

"Maybe something will come of it."

"Even if it does they'll buy their way out like they always do." she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "Sorry, I know you're trying to be helpful I'm just... pissed." she says with a broad gesture of both her hands.

"I get it. You headed home now?" she asks, pushing herself away from the counter.

"Yeah. At least I got Eddie to take my aggression out on." she gives a half-hearted laugh.

"Lucky man." she smiles and says before leaving Candy alone.

She lets out a loud and angry sigh, her hands resting on the wet and speckled countertop, her hair hanging over her face. "Shit." she whispers out. "UGH!" she lets out from her gut, face towards the ceiling. "Such BULLSHIT!" she lets out loudly, her hands pushing her hair out of her face and kicking a garbage bin nearby.

----------

Every movement is followed through with a punctuation of anger. Her feet hit the ground heavier, she slams the car door to get some form of satisfaction as she gets in the car to head home.

"Something is wrong." Venom says, his previously blobby and lax head sitting next to Eddie's on his shoulder as they watched tv to wait for their girlfriend to come home.

"Huh?" Eddie grunts, his posture straightening as he snaps out of the daze he'd fallen into while staring at the television but thinking about something else.

"Candy." he states, as he moves to face the doorway.

As soon as the door shuts with a heavy and hard bang, Eddie's eyes go a bit wide and he catches on to what Venom is bringing his attention to. She stomps into the archway between the living room and the hallway, her worn ballet flats angry against the fake hardwood floors.

She takes a deep breath, her shoulders squared and fists balled at her sides before looking back and forth between the curious sets of eyes that looked her way. "We'll do it your way." she says, her eyes moving to the floor in failure.

"Do what?" Eddie asks, his mouth hanging ajar slightly.

"The tech guys. Let's just...fuckin kill them." she says with her hands thrown into the air in an outburst of all the negative emotions pent up inside her.

"Woah. Wait, why?" he says, body now engaged and rising from the couch as his brow furrows in question.

"I tried doing it the "right" way." she says with a response filled with attitude and annoyance, her fingers doing air quotes. "And they shut me down. So..." she sighs and shakes her head, her shoulders slumping.

"They won't do the story?" he asks, his voice cracking in his turn of high pitch. He moves towards his girlfriend cautiously as if she really might hurt him, even though he knew she never would.

"They have money invested in the network.  I was told it was too graphic of an issue to cover, but that's just a lie to cover up that they don't want their little free reign interrupted."

"Ah." Eddie nods slowly.

"But you would not let us eat them previously." Venom's voice is full of questions.

"I know that. I was trying to not jump straight to murder, you know?" she says with a slack jaw and delivery full of bitterness. "If I could've had the bigger platform I could've..." she stops mid-sentence and sighs. "Doesn't matter now." she shakes her head as if she were swinging the thoughts directly out her mind. "They want to try to hide behind their money. I want them to know their money can't save them." her face is held in almost wide-eyed innocence, full of vengeful intent with a good reason behind it.

"Eat the rich." Venom says, raising up like he was moving to his haunches, now a more fully embodied head and neck over Eddie's body.

"Where'd you learn that?" she asks, clearly impressed.

"We were learning about capitalism." Eddie says, his eyes wandering around the room in thought.

Candy would find an alien lifeform learning about the complex oppressive structures of governments on earth to be rather amusing if she hadn't felt so angry and betrayed. "I guess that means you know what a guillotine is then huh?" Eddie sees her eyes dark as they look past him to his symbiote.

"Yes. Viva La Revolucion!" Venom says with a large toothy smile.

"You want to be the guillotine for those assholes who tried to drug me?" she asks, looking directly at Venom. He begins to snake towards her and she steps closer to him, leaving Eddie to feel like a bystander in his own body.

"I do. I want to eat their heads separate from their bodies. I want to pile them up and see them, count them before we devour them for means beyond energy." Venom quivers with excitement as he sees nothing but approval in Candy's eyes. He and Eddie both have never seen her look so wild before. Venom loved it, but Eddie was hesitant. He knew she was angry, and rightfully so, as was he. But he found himself hesitant to bring her into his buried guilt with killing people. They did it to only those that deserved it but he wasn't sure how Candy would react once she got into the grit with them. The idea of killing someone is far different than actually doing it.

"And I want to be there when you do it." she says with eyes that beam fearless and bold into Venom's large opalescent ones. He breathes loudly, mouth opening and revealing his tongue, dripping with drool in his excitement much like a dog's.

"Let us do this for you Candy. Our sweet, previous Candy." he says, a tentacle-like appendage reaching out and caressing the side of her face tenderly. "We will kill anyone who dares to hurt you. We shall start with these men. You will be avenged." his thundering rumble of a voice is soothing as it vibrated across her skin.

Eddie felt the affection in Venom's words despite their dark promises. "We'll get 'em for ya babe. But are you sure you wanna be around for it?" Eddie asks, his hand reaching out and taking Candy's attention from Venom's looming face, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah, I do. If we're going to be in this together, I want to be a part of this." her voice is softer now as she nods subtly, lacing her fingers through his as she stands toe to toe with him. "I want to know every dark and grimy part of the world as you see it. We're in this together. I'd kill for you two too you know." she says, her eyes still dark but her face set in a soft feminine expression that makes his heart thump in adoration for it. "Let's do this together, Eddie." she whispers, giving him an affirming nod.

He wets his lips, a series of small nods as his eyes move away from her for a moment before returning to her open and honest face. "Yeah. Together. For you." he says softly, lowering his chin to her before she leans up to confirm their plan with a kiss.

@hardygal69 @marvelgirl7 @emerald-bijou @negansdirtygirl22 @brianaisasongbird @vale0413 @izzy-the-ginger @chortletortoise @onomatopoetic-aesthetic @anrm1 @jademox @nightcraver @venomous-possibiities @tinastarkandco @chipster-21 @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes @queenof-wakanda

[zen-garden-gnome]

I did everything wrong and these tomato plants are still alive

I’ve spent a lot of my life being afraid of doing a lot of things and missing out on a ton of learning opportunities--and opportunities for making meaning in my life. It feels like I’m catching up on some stuff, even stuff like basic gardening. Check out this stuff I’m learning! I managed to do everything wrong when I tried growing tomato plants for the first time. No tomatoes yet on these little plants, but things are still going pretty well despite all the advice I failed to follow.

“Plant tomato seeds in early spring, right after the last frost.” Well, Spring in Florida reaches the low 90s, and I started learning about permaculture and gardening in April, so these little dudes were getting a late start for a sub-tropical region.

”Know your varieties and select what matches your needs.” The tomato seeds I had at home were unlabeled leftovers from a children’s program we’d hosted at the public library more than a year prior. I didn’t know if they were too old or if they were determinate or indeterminate. I didn’t even know their names, though the pictures looked like cherry and Roma. (I was wrong, they’re cherry and grape.) “Start out in potting mix, or in a soil with even less actual soil content. Never use garden soil, which has poor drainage and more disease organisms for these delicate seedlings.” Well, somehow my brain only retained “garden soil” while I looked at the bags in the store, these seeds went right into some regular degular Miracle Grow garden soil on 4/2/19. (Speaking of, I wasn’t thrilled about using Miracle Grow brand anything, but that’s what they had at my hardware store. One of my favorite things about the permaculture ethos is the understanding that something is better than nothing, that everything is a part of the process even if it’s not ideal, and that there’s no better use for our unsustainable resources than as part of our transition.) “Sprinkle in the seeds and weed out the stragglers later.” Turns out, I never found anyone who said “sprinkle.” Everything I read just said “plant.” I legit wondered why there was so much talk about “thinning the seedlings.” So I planted one seed per planter, five planters total because that’s what I had. Apparently it’s pretty common for seeds to just not germinate or to just not do well, especially if they’re particularly old, so it makes sense to sprinkle rather than plant individually. Luckily for me, all five seeds germinated and grew into healthy young plants in about a week. Lookit these tiny people!

“Leave to germinate at room temperature.” I put them on the patio the night after a rainstorm, not realizing it was part of a final cool snap. I brought them in two days later with fingers crossed.  “Fertilize weekly.” I mixed a tiny bit of liquid fertilizer into their water when I first planted them, then never remembered to do it again. (I didn’t really want to rely on chemical fertilizers, anyway.) Here they are a week later on 4/15/19:

“To increase root growth along the stem and reduce spindly stems, re-pot once or twice to bring soil right beneath the first pair of leaves. First re-potting can occur once first true leaves appear.” It turns out, tomato seedlings and their roots are still pretty delicate right after their true leaves make an appearance. Some gardeners wait for roots to become visible at the bottom of the container before re-potting, but I re-potted once I saw those leaves because that’s what I kept reading. I thought for sure I crushed these babies every time I touched them. But they bounced back immediately after both early re-plantings on 4/23/19.

“Plant in the garden or final pots when the plants are about 3x the diameter of their containers.” Well, the second-to-last home for these seedlings was a single long planter, so I had a poor estimation of the diameter of their rooting space. When I gingerly lifted them out of their soil the final time on 5/13/19, they were only about 2x the diameter of their rooting space. Babies.

“If transplanting to a pot instead of a garden, don’t place more than one tomato plant per container.” I wasn’t expecting all five seeds to make it, and I only had two pots. Despite my earlier expectations, I also didn’t have it in me to throw out or abandon the three smaller plants. The three grape tomato plants grew bigger, faster, so I placed them in the pot with the larger diameter. The two cherries went into the narrower bucket. I used the remaining garden soil.

“If moving outside after sprouting indoors, give them a transition period.” Anyway it was around 90 degrees outside when I brought the plants to the patio. They struggled for about a day but I propped them up with chopsticks and they bounced back in about a day.

I have no idea how these plants will fare as we encroach on what is sure to be a record-hot Summer, and as I repeatedly forget to check the leaves daily for pests. Still, I’ve learned a few things already:

1. Even if I do everything “wrong,” things can just happen. Life, itself, is just ready to happen. In fact it often does, as it did with these seedlings. Life is much more common and resilient than we might think.

2. Even if I do everything “wrong,” gardening is fun. Despite being a process of life cultivation, it’s extremely low pressure, and that kind of ease makes the task feel welcoming--like current I can ease into, even if I’m not quite sure where I’m going or what to do with myself along the way. Like there’s nothing more normal and natural for our articulate fingers to do than dig in the dirt and facilitate life. It’s easy for me to imagine a seedling being drawn into that so-called current, like a relationship of trust between me and the plants.

3. Things come to you when you’re ready for them, and it’s alright to recognize those moments--to appreciate them and to allow myself to enjoy it. It’s not foolish to be happy. And had I not allowed myself to openly enjoy this new thing, I wouldn’t have prioritized it in my daily life and would have missed out on some relevant events nearby--hell, would never have even known about them. The people around me would’ve never known I was developing an interest, and certain resources would’ve never made themselves known to me. (My mom would’ve never thought to nab those old trifold plant cages from a nursery trash pile!)

4. How I feel about gardening impacts the results, but it doesn’t have to make or break the experience. When I’m gardening, that sentiment feels more like a source of power than of anxiety. Good, because anxiety makes it easy to misremember things or forget them entirely. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed by all the options and particulars at the beginning and fail to prioritize this new, slow process. There are a lot of suggestions that highlight slightly different details, and I dunno anything about any of it. When I ignored some of those details and just enjoyed myself, I finally got my hands dirty and everything turned out better than I’d imagined. Maybe the seedlings would’ve grown faster and hardier if I’d used better soil and some organic fertilizer, or if I’d let them grow longer before re-potting. Turns out it didn’t need to be perfect the first time around for it to be worth it. Now let’s see if they make it through the summer. The day after I planted them outside, a tiny worm started eating a leaf. :(  Can you even see this wee dude?

[thethew]

I’m tired and life is going quite literally down the drain so here’s the next episode of Northwood Abbey! 

But to be completely serious with you guys, shit is currently (And quite literally) hitting the fan. The next episode might not arrive for an ungodly amount of time so please just hold on tight with me? (Also this episode is a lot longer than the others so bear with me)

Episodes: 0 1 2 3

Taglist: (Remember to contact me to get on or off it) @hannahs-creations @killer-badass @theshadowsofthenight @slythekiel @lucas-writes @ohlooksheswriting @waywordwriter @hufflepuffbanana @writerproject @omicronviolet @angelotakunerd08

Episode 3: Pilot Part 3

Aspen Brielle. A strange name to be honest. How fitting that it belonged to him. The man sat down on a bench. Sipping a lukewarm cup of coffee. It hadn’t been made that way, he’d just lost track of time. His throat itched, as it always did when he hadn’t spoken for long periods of time. Not because of any medical issues or disorders, simply because his voice always wanted to be in use. You could ask him what this means, but he’d probably dance around that subject or politely decline to answer the question, so I suppose I will as well.

He was sitting near the center of the town, staring straight down the street at an old mansion. Built by the town’s founder, whom many claimed to be insane. His wife had chased after him to the house, and, being obsessed with the forms of holistic cure and remedies, had painted the whole house light blue. The result hadn’t done much, except make the lovely property age very well.

But the building had its reasons for being empty.

I imagine that if you asked the man sitting on the bench. If you looked right into his eyes, which looked more green and bright than they had any right to, said his name, though I doubt you’d remember it, and asked him why the building was empty, abandoned, desecrated, defiled, any word you wished. He would look at you, tilt his head to the side and click his teeth together, then say, Why don’t you find out for yourself?

Of course, this would be horrible advice. Why? Because the building was haunted. And to all of you out there who snicker at the idea of a haunting, laugh in the face of death and danger, and are generally just a hapless lunatic, don’t ever enter that place. You may never recover from the discoveries you find there. After all, the welcome mat doesn’t say, Weak Minds Perish Here At Northwood Manor, for no reason.

I never said it was a good welcome sign.

Aspen stood up, finished off his bitter, stale coffee, then slowly walked off through the town. The sun had barely risen into the sky, but he, like several other inhabitants of the town, was wide awake.

…

“She killed someone?” Mychael said incredulously.

Xeph nodded, a pack of dice sprawled across the table. A newspaper sat below them a mortifying headline covering the front page.

Local Bakery Owner Killed By Wild Bear, Officers And CSI Say

“It’s obviously not a bear,” Hannah continued. “The town is warded from them.”

“How do you ward off bears?”

“Simple,” Xeph replied, “You build a giant blue house with more magical energy in it than the Taj Mahal.”

Mychael didn’t quite understand the comparison or the explanation. Xeph sighed and fiddled with one of the dice for a few seconds before answering.

“Animals are sensitive to magic and its transactions and stuff like that. Bears, for some reason, are the most affected by it. We used to have a zoo, but, surprise surprise, the bears broke out and ran as far as they could. And you don’t even need to be able to do magic to feel the crazy magical energy coming off that place.”

“You mean Northwood Manor,” Mychael replied, “The place that makes everyone’s hairs stand  on end whenever they get too close?”

Hannah made a clicking noise with her teeth and did an awkward finger gun motion before turning back to whatever concoction she was making on Mychael’s stove. It smelled rather sweet. Hannah seemed to notice his interest in the boiling mess of sickly sweet smells and flavors.

“Cinnamon and orange,” She said offhandedly, “As well as a few other ingredients, helps ward off bad spirits and bring in good ones. At least I think so. I haven’t done kitchen magic in a while.”

He nodded, then turned back to the table. Xeph was stacking his dice on top of each other, making a pyramid and other various shapes. With a halfhearted sigh, he blew on the tower and it fell over, clattering onto the table. His green hair looked as if it needed some touching up, the black roots starting to show a bit. He rubbed his eyes, then leaned over the table to grab the newspaper.

“So,” Mychael said cautiously. “How does magic work?”

“A crash course from two fellow idiotas?” Xeph replied, “It doesn’t, unless you want it to.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Yeah, it does,” Hannah replied. “Magic is completed by using the force of your will, personality, intellect, whatever, to get power from the earth and her energies. It’s like convincing her to give you magic.”

She snapped her fingers and a small leaf sprouted out of a little bamboo plant Mychael had gotten for himself a week ago. It was a small feat in and of itself, but Mychael was very impressed.

“For some, it’s like a battle of wits with her as they start out casting, they have to outwit her to get energy. For others, they have to work with her and satisfy her until they get power and manifestation. Others, they have to charm her into giving them power. And some just need to ask nicely. It’s different for everyone,” Hannah explained.

“And some people use different kinds of magic, which require different sources, different techniques,” Xeph continued.

“That still makes no sense to me but okay,” Mychael replied.

Xeph suddenly tossed the newspaper back down on the table. Hannah and Mychael gave him a confused look. He ran his hand through his hair, clearly stressed.

“This,” Xeph paused, “Cabrona.”

“Isabella,” Mychael corrected.

“Morkantha,” Hannah furthered.

“No me importa,” Xeph groaned. “Tenemos que detenerla antes de que mate a más gente.”

Hannah stopped her cooking. “You’re speaking Spanish again. You know he can’t understand you.”

He sighed and placed his head on the table. He waved his hand in the air and said, “¿Tu punto?”

“You speak Spanish?” Mychael asked.

Xeph glanced up at him and sighed, then laid his head back down on the table. He stared out the window for a second, then got up and walked over to the pantry, probably to look for more of Mychael’s food.

“Yeah, My mom and dad came up from Puerto Rico and Colombia. I grew up learning how to cook enchiladas the correct way, without store-bought sauce-” He said this as he pulled a can of Mychael’s off-brand sauce out of the pantry. He set the offending can carefully on the stovetop- “And the whole religion and chancleta and everything or whatever you want me to say.”

Xeph gave up on finding anything in the pantry and instead turned and leaned against the wall. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The bandage around his arm seemed to need a replacement.

“So,” Mychael tried to move past the awkward hitch in the conversation. “What kinds of magic are there?”

“Well,” Hannah replied, halting her stirring for a few moments, “There’s a lot, but to start out, I would say sigils.”

“Why sigils?” Mychael inquired.

“The ones you make on your own are less likely to kill you,” Xeph replied.

“That’s reassuring,” Mychael replied, completely the opposite of reassured.

“And also,” Hannah replied, aiming a kick at Xeph’s shin. “They require the least amount of energy. And when the energy transit is small or near non-existent, the better chance you have of your spells manifesting.”

“And what about Isa- Morkantha?” Mychael changed the subject.

“I have my suspicions,” Xeph said. He walked over to the table a pulled a briefcase out from under the table. Mychael blinked, not having seen the object a few seconds earlier. The case had a piece of masking tape across it with Morkantha’s name written across it in sharpie.

“We’ve,” he paused, “triangulated where we think we might be from where you two first met, the most frequent sightings of her, and the bakery guy. We think she’s in Northwood Manor.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Mychael replied.

…

Northwood Manor looked hauntingly beautiful at all times of the day. Even the beating afternoon sun and a few hundred years could not take away any of its splendor. But just looking at the building sent shivers up your spine. It made your palms sweaty and your throat itch. Just thinking about what might hide in those abandoned halls made you hesitant to enter. Even the dry, two-foot-tall grass that grew around and through the porch seemed to crackle with magical or supernatural energy that warned of what was lying in wait.

However, the group did not have the luck of entering the old house in bright midday. Rather, they had the misfortune of entering the building in the middle of the night. Under the cover of darkness, the building did indeed lose its cheery blue color, which, during the day, was the only thing keeping it from looking as menacing as it was now. Mychael’s breath started to hitch as he got closer to the building. The energy from it pulsed through them, making the hairs on the backs of their neck stand up. Their hearts raced, and their palms became clammy. Xeph muttered a few prayers under his breath in Spanish, and Hannah swatted him on the shoulder.

“Calm down,” she said. “It’s just a demon.”

“Just a demon,” Mychael replied.

“Just a demon.” Xeph chuckled nervously to himself, “Cabrona eso es lo que me da miedo.”

The briefcase banged against Mychael’s hip and he winced in pain. Hannah shushed him. Xeph looked ready to heave his lunch on the ground. Mychael readjusted the case and continued to sneak through the grass to the stair leading up to the porch.

“Tell me why we brought this thing again?” Mychael hissed over his shoulder.

“Insurance,” Hannah replied, “Demons and other supernatural beings don’t like it when too much information about them is gathered in one place. They can feel it. Like when you’re all alone and you feel like someone’s watching you? That level of uncomfortable. It makes them really angry.”

“Cool,” Mychael said, then quieter, “Then why did we do that?”

Xeph answered that last part, probably without realizing it, “Some people do it to blackmail a demon into doing things for them, others do it to create a beacon to lead the demon to them. That’s what we’re doing.”

“Fantastic,” Mychael grumbled.

The door creaked open a little too loudly. The group began to enter, and a loud crack sounded as Xeph’s foot broke through the wood of the porch. Silence fell upon them as Xeph muttered quiet prayers in rapid-fire Spanish. He slowly pulled his foot out of the whole and let out a relieved sigh as nothing happened.

“What are you so scared of?” Mychael joked.

“Old houses,” Xeph replied, “Old curses, old spirits.”

The inside of the house was even stranger than the outside. White cloth hung over all of the furniture, and Mycheal heard a crunch under his foot as he accidentally stepped on an old mothball. Xeph leant down and grabbed another one off the ground.

“This should be used up by now,” He mused.

“Probably the last person who lived here,” Hannah speculated.

“You mean the hair salon lady?” Mychael asked.

“No,” Xeph said, taking the case out of Mychael’s hands, “She was a distant relative, inherited the property from whoever had the bad luck of taking care of it at that time. She was in town for one month, vanished. Found her the next week belly up in a pond.”

Hannah slapped Xeph’s shoulder. He ignored the action and continued to fiddle with the briefcase. After a few moments, he stopped. He glanced down the hall and then walked down it. The other two followed him through the old and creaky house, ignoring the paintings on the wall of increasingly mad and sleepless people, all of the former owners of the house.

The hall opened up into a small ballroom. A large window spanned from the floor to the ceiling. A small record player sat in the corner with a few pieces of vinyl shattered on the ground around it. A gust of wind blew through the house, knocking over a flowerpot that had been inconveniently placed.

Xeph set the briefcase down on the ground and started muttering over it. A bright green sigil hummed to life on the back, then it flickered out and vanished. A small pile of dust fell onto the ground from where it had been.

“Now she’ll feel it,” Xeph said.

After a few moments of silent glances back and forth, Hannah turned to face Mychael. She seemed to have lost her happy go lucky demeanor.

“Do you have the book?” She asked, deathly serious.

Mychael nodded. She turned to Xeph.

“Open it,” She commanded.

Xeph took a deep breath, and his shaking fingers slowly undid the latches on the case. He flipped open the case and a rush of air flew past the group. The plant that had fallen to the floor earlier shriveled up and died. The old house creaked violently. The mothballs around the room melted up and vanished as pretty much everything alive in the room began to die except for the group. Even the papers inside the case seemed to crumple up, and the leather seemed to age several more years. Rust crawled across all the metal objects in the room, until the phenomena stopped a few seconds later.

“I heard you calling,” a voice rasped from above.

Morkantha’s shape had further shifted away from human now. Her pink hair was wild and had turned into more of a fur, sprouting from around her neck like a mane. Her fingers elongated into powerful claws and a tail with a sharp spike had sprouted from behind her. Her hind legs looked more like a lion’s than anything else. Her eyes were pitch black with little pinpricks of purple light in the middle. Her skin had changed color, with patches of purple, pink, blue. Overall, she looked like an oversized reptilian lion.

Not to mention the fact she had grown a few feet.

With the speed and agility of a cat, she landed on the floor of the ballroom, towering over the group. Mychael held the purple leather bound book up as a precaution as Morkantha continued to stalk closer.

“The Lady in Red has been waiting for you,” she purred.

Hannah frowned, but Mychael seemed terrified. He’d been able to hide it the other night when Hannah had mentioned the name, but hearing from the demon in front of him only made it worse.

“Don’t you miss her,” Morkantha interrogated, “And what you could do together?”

“Stop it,” Mychael shouted.

“Xeph, knock her out,” Hannah demanded.

Xeph closed his eyes and held his fingers up to his temples. A faint green light weaved around him. With a flick of her long tail, Morkantha pulled Xeph away from the group and dangled him up in the air. He shouted in pain as Morkantha’s tail wrapped around his body and squeezed.

“Not this time, little rapture,” Morkantha hissed.

“Mychael, keep the book up,” Hannah shouted.

“This was a stupid idea,” Mychael screamed.

Xeph groaned in pain as Morkanthat squeezed tighter. The action drew silence from the other two.

“Thank you,” Morkantha sighed. “The Lady wants that one-” she pointed at Mychael- “Alive. No tricks, no catch. Just hand him over.”

“You think that I’m just going to hand over someone I met like,” Hannah paused, “Three days ago?”

Morkantha opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Mychael’s phone in his pocket. Everyone stared at him, incredulous. He scrambled to grab it and answer as soon as possible.

“Hello?”

“Hi Mychael, it’s your manager, Kathy? I noticed you didn’t come in for work today, are you okay?”

“Uh,” He glanced around the room, “No, I dropped one of my...” he continued to frantically search the room, “Vintage records on my feet and it broke and now I’m bleeding all over the place.”

“Oh my gosh,” Kathy replied, “Are you okay? I can head over and get you to the emergency room.”

“No, no,” Mychael laughed nervously, “That’s not-”

His phone slipped from his hand as Morkantha plucked it from between his fingers. Mychael made a sound of protest as the demon crushed the device with her claws. Morkantha turned around to face them and growled threateningly, a small orb of light on her chest pulsating vibrantly. Mychael stared up at her black eyes

A voice in the back of his mind directed his gaze back down to the light coming out of Morkantha’s chest.

“How nice to see you again Mr. Harmeyer,” The Lady In Red crooned, “Shall we finish this?”

He turned to the shards of old vintage records in the corner of the room. Morkantha followed his gaze and growled. Within a second, the two were bounding across the room. As Mychael reached out for a piece of the broken vinyl, morkantha slammed her hand into his back and he flew into the wall. He spun around, a few shattered records cutting into his leg. The demon towered over him and pulled back her arm to swing again.

A flash of green light swirled around her and straight into her eyes. She spun around wildly, writhing in pain. Xeph was tossed across the room, straight into the opposite wall. Hanna ran after him. Morkantha screamed and flopped around. Xeph slammed into the wall, his consciousness slipping out of his grasp.

And Mychael? The world slowed as his fingers wrapped around something that wasn’t a shard of vinyl, wasn’t a piece of wood, wasn’t a knife. Something that had never been there before. Morkantha turned towards him, blinded and furious. Mychael rose up his arm and plunged a blade of pure white energy into the orb of light inside her chest.

The world moved faster after that. Morkantha collapsed, white light crackling and licking flames across her body. Energy pulsed through Mychael’s fingertips, and the power of The Lady In Red left him. He collapsed on the ground, his vision fading fast.

The last thing he saw, was a man with long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, an aviator jacket, and tan converse snap the briefcase closed. He stood slowly and turned to face Mychael. And as he became closer and closer to unconsciousness, Aspen Brielle’s almost too green eyes seemed to swirl and fold in on themselves.

And with that, the man was gone.

In fact, he’d never been there. The briefcase and it’s contents had been destroyed in the battle, burnt up in the flames from Mychael’s powerful attack. Morkantha’s body had been burnt up in the climax of the battle.

And Aspen Brielle did not exist.

[architectuul]

Human Architecture Needs A Dissident Instinct

“In every civilized community, Architecture has always been the most powerful sociological, cultural and historical cohesive factor; Architecture is the indispensable amalgam of the common life of diverse human beings.”  Ljiljana Bakić

Pionir Sports Hall in Belgrade. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

Ljubica Slavković and Iva Čukić planned this interview questioning the meaning of the exhibition Toward a Concrete Utopia: Architecture in Yugoslavia, 1948–1980 in MoMA.  The talk with Dragoljub Bakić presents a story of love, devotion and architecture of the inseparable Yugoslav architectural tandem Dragoljub and Ljiljana Bakić. 

Dragoljub Bakić, Ljubica Slavković and Iva Čukić in a garden in the Višnjička Banja neighborhood in Belgrade.

HOUSING SETTLEMENTS 

Before meeting Dragoljub we have passed through the settlement that the couple designed. After reaching the beautiful house in a row with a garden and a view over the Danube river, we were completely blinded of all this beauty.

DB: It is interesting how there is now a curiosity in what we did in the era of socialism. This discovery started with Rem Koolhaas, who saw what Energoprojekt built in Lagos, Nigeria. During the time of socialist Yugoslavia, we did not have an Iron Curtain like the other Eastern European countries. What is obvious is that we had other types of restrictions that did not allow to be discovered what was happening here. We were signed off as an eastern block, at least as far as the West was concerned. 

Our architecture developed through cooperation with each other and also under the Balkan Association of Architects. Good architecture was made here. I think that we developed a great part of the Modern and Post-Modern architecture.

Plan for the residential area Višnjička Banja. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

During the period of Yugoslavia, a lot of apartments were built; housing construction was higher than it was in the West. Especially, because we had a political project with the idea of the right to an apartment. It was under a certain level of control with specific criteria and sizes of flats. In the socialist system the needs of people were somehow equalized. Both a faculty professor and a worker received the same square footage, although the first one needed a library and the other a big kitchen, but it was all averaged.

Višnjička Banja housing in the 1980s. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

When the time for designing Višnjička Banja came, the residential area where we have lived for the past 35 years, we had very strict conditions. However, we were protected by the General Plan of Belgrade (GUP) from 1972. Urban laws were well respected in the time of socialism and could not be changed as today how any one likes. Nobody respects anything today. Višnjička Banja was supposed to be another Dedinje, a fine living area where Belgrade will give vent to large conglomerates such as New Belgrade. The predicted density was 90 inhabitants per hectare. Such density created a garden settlement and the plan foresaw individual houses and villas in set in greenery.

Housing in greenery at Višnjička Banja. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

But still, besides the individual houses, the settlement has also multi-dwelling units?

DB: The changes that followed and the transition to socially oriented housing construction led to designing for the housing needs of the workers from different companies in the municipality. We proposed a system of low-rise houses to preserve the natural environment and take advantage of the space. Instead of making a multistory building we laid the building down. We argued for more square meters than planned, because it only made sense with the proposed density, and we designed the apartments with the impression of individual houses. They all have terraces with a view of the Danube and open spaces next to the kitchen. We were thrilled when we first came here as everything was completely bare; nobody wanted to build because of the exposition to the Košava wind. Today the location is completely different as pine and cedar trees planted by residents thrive well. I planted the pine tree next to you 35 years ago and there was another one, which I had to cut because it was too close to the house. These pines and cedar trees have completely changed the microclimate, and Košava now skips the site.

The whole settlement of Višnjička Banja looks out to the Danube, instead of facing the sun and south creating transversal cross ventilation and visions in all apartments. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

You have lived here since the construction period and the moving into the settlement. How have things changed here over the past 35 years?

DB:  The settlement consists of buildings in a row, high buildings with apartments for workers of the company, and houses in rows that were on the market through one of the then five large-scale housing cooperatives. A very interesting social layer has moved in here - at least 15 architects from Energoprojekt, directors, actors, writers, chess players. We hung out together back then as we still do today. We gather almost every week, for a hot brandy at my place, or we meet at his house, her yard, we live together in the settlement. We believe that this way of living has contributed to bringing people closer. The neighborhood relations were developed because of the low density of the urbanism. We consciously designed them in the form of a horseshoe, so each building has its own yard, a sloping terrain with children’s playgrounds or benches. Where neighbors can meet, now I can see that someone has planted some flowers.  

In Višnjička Banja’s neighborhood a Scandinavian architectural atmosphere was implemented. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

The neighborhood spirit has been developed. The measure of success for an architect is the measure of client and investor satisfaction, and in general, that is the essence of our call. In these 35 years 50% of the population structure has changed, many have died; a lot of families sold their houses and left because of the war at the beginning of the 1990s. Initially, there were no fences here but people began to encircle their houses because of pets. The new tenants are not interested in socializing, or even greeting. Our new neighbor has put up a metal fence and grids on all his windows. You’ll see this on many homes. An interesting sociological phenomenon is going on and it also speaks about the sociological structure of society; what we have become, who we are, and against whom we fight.

Architects have social coordinates, and the society and its development determine the coordinates in which you create as an architect. But also, as an architect, you create a society. And that is not easy. You said that at the time of designing Višnjička Banja, you were protected by the GUP, but the execution and settling in the early 80’s were significantly hampered. Why?

DB: What we went through with the Višnjička Banja project. We moved into the house in 1983-84. When those in positions of power realized what was built here, they accused us of destroying the socialist morality. All audits passed here, we got all the permits, but as architects, we were branded.  It turned out that Višnjička Banja became a new Dedinje, a fancy living area, but there were no people in position here. Only us citizens. And our keys were confiscated, it was a big affair. When the settlement was built and we moved in, we become victims of a great affair, to the extent that we were expelled from Energoprojekt.

The project of Višnjička Banja was accepted by the city and municipal authorities and was known as quality living made with cheap but quality brick and tiles produced by Energorpojekt. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

At the beginning of the 1980s, Energoprojekt pulled all its forces towards a huge project in Iraq. Only the guards were left here, and construction completely stopped even though people had already paid their homes in advance. Years passed, things changed, the dollar and dinars ratio changed, the money was gone, but the houses were unfinished. At that time, we were working on a project in Harare. When we finished our project in Harare, we were invited to return to Belgrade. The contractors asked us then to increase the square footage in the whole settlement so the people who had already paid for their houses would have to pay more. Of course, breaking the architectural ethics was not an option; we refused to do such a thing. All of a sudden, they declared us enemies to Energoprojekt. What we passed through was recorded by a bunch of newspaper articles. Fortunately, there were also honest people, both among the judges and colleagues, so in October 1984 we returned back to the company.

But what happened with the tenants of Višnjička Banja and the demands to pay more money for the houses? How did people move in here?

DB: By June 1983, after Energoprojekt confiscated the keys and asked for large surcharges, the tenants made a decision. The first 110 of them made a line with their cars on the Slanački road in the early morning at 6am. They all burst into the village, broke doors, changed locks, and moved into their homes. They saved us our key, as we were in Harare at the time, and when we came, they gave it to us. Our door was the only one, which was not ruined. That’s how people moved in here.

And this is how the community spirit emerged even before settling in the area. I believe that is because all of your work is done with a strong sense of building a more humane society through, or with architecture.  

AGAINST CLICHES

All your creativity is permeated with a strong awareness of the ultimate user and the impact of architecture on the lives of people, as well as a struggle through architecture for a more humane society. That is what Mrs. Bakić perfectly illustrated in her book, “Anatomy of B & B Architecture”, while presenting your design principles.

DB: We always had a dissident instinct against every kind of dictatorship and ruling clichés and we were constantly struggling. In the Nova Galenika settlement, which we designed in 1976, we were first to introduce slanted roofing. We had big clashes, for example with the president of the Zemun municipality. We had to reiterate that this roof is cheaper than a flat slab, which at the time had to have 17 layers in order to not leak. And would always later crack and leak water. But we manage to do it even so that after Nova Galenika, a new regulation was made that flat roof terraces had to have slanted roofs.

Drawing for the Nova Galenika settlement (1976). | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

The basis of Nova Galenika was the natural asymmetric scattering of the solitaire in the vertical sense, connecting the solitaires with their horizontal openness into organic groups. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

Your design principles and creative expression are highly inspired by the architecture of Scandinavia, by the relationship with nature, local materials and the quality of space. We see that in the settlement of Višnjička Banja, and in Galenika, but also through your entire relationship to space and materials.

DB: A great impact was the year 1970, which we spent in Finland, in Alvar Aalto’s Bureau. This was possible because of Energoprojekt. And it was a beautiful bureau in Helsinki. We showed them what we had done in Kuwait and they loved the slides and were interested in cooperation. 

Collective Housing in Kuwait (1966) by Ljiljana Bakić and the office Said Breik & Marwan Kalo. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

There, they lived in row houses, and we were so enthralled by this spirit that we disregarded the latitude and longitude, we wanted to pass something of this spirit in architecture to Belgrade. We were deeply convinced, almost obsessed, that the projected environment could raise the level of living awareness and change people’s habits. But it turned out that in addition to geography, a little spirit on this subject was also needed. Višnjička Banja has shown that it was the correct way of living, very human with the socialization of neighbors, but afterwards it did not cast roots. In a whole series that could have followed this, people began building huge weekend houses.

Why Aalto, how did you even reach Finland in the 60s of the last century from Belgrade?

DB: Because we had a great professor, the architect Nikola Dobrović. He used to put on a bow tie and a black suit when he was teaching about Wright. A great influence on us had also the Hansaviertel in Berlin, where the ruins after the bombing were cleaned and where Oscar Niemeyer, Alvar Aalto, top leading architects of that period were engaged. We studied this cases because we could learn from their housing construction.

Ljiljana and Dragoljub Bakić at the opening of the Pionir Sports Hall in Belgrade, 1973. | Photo via CAB

In Yugoslavia we stepped out of many frames, which was possible because of the Non-aligned Movement. In the world we were recognized and evaluated in such a way. At one point Energoprojekt worked in 45 countries and it was at the very top of the construction companies in the world. The West knew about Tito and knew us through Tito, but they did not know us through architecture.

One of your cult projects and facilities, at least in Belgrade's life, is the Pionir Sports Hall.

DB: The design and performance of the Pionir Sports Hall was very interesting. The mayor Branko Pešić was a boxer and he wanted to organize the European Boxing Championship of '73 in Belgrade. As Belgrade didn’t have a sports hall at that time the building began in that year. The 25 May Sports Center by Ivo Antić was built. While Antić’s parallel piped roof was constructed we designed and built the entire Pionir. In nine and a half months we did both the project and the construction, and we could not do it differently than to make it prefabricated. We had a group of genius construction engineers in Energoprojekt.

For the Pionir building 90% of the structure was done on the ground and then raised. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

A year before the championship, seven large construction companies were invited to present their conceptual design and construction cost. We had about seven days to come up with the project, cost and time of construction. But then, we were also 32 years old, youth-crazy and as we say, could do anything. Energoprojekt got the job, and we got going. It was done so quickly, and the hall became a cult place for Belgrade sports.

Floor plan for the Pionir Hall. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

The task was that the hall should also serve for hockey, which means a fence that in turn led to steeper seating. Much later, a separate Ice Hall was created, which we consider to be our best project. But Pionir’s stands remained unusually steep, which made it a true home for fans.  All of our clubs like to play there, the viewers, supporters, inspire them. They are their sixth player, with steep seating like that; they are almost with the players in the field! And those construction beams are five centimeters thick. The Energoprojekt’s construction engineer Vlada Vračarić was a total genius.

The Ice Hall. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

Why do you consider the Ice Hall as your best project?

DB: First of all, we consider it to be best fitted in its surroundings. We took off one side of the seating stands because we came to the very street. We did not have room for a two-sided auditorium, and this one-sidedness gave it character. But that roof, that used to be blue, and the way it fit in the environment, that is our cult image.

The cult image of the Ice Hall. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

TEAM WORK, HOME AND ABROAD 

The Pionir Hall is Ljiljana’s and your first jointly done building, and many more followed.

DB: We have been working as a team for 40 years. We saw that in Finland - many teams had two or three members, and often there were teams of architects that were spouses. We met a lot of them, great Finland architects that were spouses who worked as teams. With time and experience, you start to think similarly, you begin to synchronize. Of course, you do not argue a lot. Well, we argued a lot, but I always gave in. We were lucky to work a lot abroad. There were a lot of projects that were not constructed, and that’s a shame.

Spouse’s sensitivity established over the years creates understanding of each other’s work. | Photo by Rade Kovač

If you seriously treat the importance of given conditions and conditionality, if you establish a certain level of ethics, of your calling, if you treat with equal importance both the outside and inside, and the facade is not the only importance to you, it was always important to us and what is inside and the relationship towards the surroundings, then it all becomes very natural. Some things you do not have to always start over, they are known. Ljiljana was a well-known mathematician at school, she easily drafted and did everything else, and so was I. But I think that the first violin was always Ljiljana.

We do have our own individual projects, we didn’t always work together. Then came the time when I had to deal more with organization, management, especially in Harare. Ljiljana was more burdened with designing, and me chasing after clients, getting payments, getting work.

You’ve done a lot of projects, but there are a lot of those who just stayed on paper. Which one do you particularly regret not being made?

DB: It would be a project in South Africa, for the central eight blocks in Cape Town. We consider it the most interesting of our projects. Of course, our best projects are our two daughters, but we are now talking within the framework of Energoprojekt. Cape Town is best known for its diamonds, so we designed eight huge city blocks symbolically as diamonds. It was a very interesting project, but in the end it all depends on who you have as an investor.

The model for the Cape Town project. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

It happened suddenly, a person from Cape Town appeared at Energoprojekt with a question: “I have a program, can you do a project?” The general director of Energoprojekt noticed his tattered sweater and repaired shoe, therefore he said that this guy might not be serious. I replied that we shall work on such an interesting program. It turned out that the director was right. Both project we created with Ljiljana were well accepted by the city administration and also presented via articles in the newspapers as a symbol of Cape Town, such as the Opera in Sydney.

Plans for the Cape Town project. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

However, in the early 1990s a change in power occurred in the South African Republic. It turned out that the person offering us work was a former mercenary who was killing black people. The project was stopped. However, I had hope that with Cape Town’s local administration we could continue the project in a different way but in the meantime we moved with Ljiljana to Zimbabwe to run the Energoprojekt burro there.

Never constructed eight city blocks in Cape Town, The Republic of South Africa (1993). | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

The former mercenary somehow found us in Zimbabwe as he found out that I have a connection with the main architect of the Cape Town municipality. He admitted to me that he killed people and that if I will make another trip to Cape Town for this project he would do the same to me. Ljiljana would not hear of us stopping to do it, she was so in love with this project, she accused me being a coward. In the end, we dropped that project and that left us with regret. Afterwards Cape Town started to develop as any other city. We consider this to be our biggest project that was not constructed.

ENERGOPROJEKT 

You have spent your lifetime in Energoprojekt, in Belgrade and around the world. How did it all begin?

DB: Energoprojekt took college students. Professor Boža Petrović suggested to Energoprojekt to hire me and Ljiljana. The famous Milica Šterić immediately accepted me as a man, but she did not want to hire women architects at all. It was in 1963 and I was 24 years old. I got then into Energoprojekt and stayed there until my retirement. A few years later, when we were supposed to work on a competition for a spa in Igalo, I proposed to Milica that Ljiljana join us. When she saw how Ljiljana thinks and works, she made an exception and employed a female architect.

Ljiljana Bakić at TIM 10 architecture and urbanism Energoprojekt. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

Milica Šterić was extremely important for our architectural environment, as the director of Energoprojekt, as an architect, as an author. And she was progressive with her ideas. How come such attitude towards women?

DB: I don’t know why she only worked with men. She was a miracle of a woman, but something of that composition that was then in Energoprojekt irritated her, and she decided that she would no longer accept women. She changed her decision when she met Ljiljana, but she remained an exception. Though we had very many women technicians, who were very important to us in our work. We had top-notch technicians who you really only lead through the main idea, and they solve the rest. And back then, we drew every detail, gutters, and canopies.

Milica Šterić with her team at Energoprojekt. | Photo via Žene u arhitekturi

On the other hand, we can also say that Šterić played an enormous role in the development of our architectural profession, that is, the development of the author’s creativity and the quality that has arisen from it?

DB: Yes. At one point, Milica Šterić decided to withdraw from Energoprojekt, which was concerned more with energy, hydro power plants, dams, industries, heating plants, etc. When Milica formed a team with Zoran Bojović, Ljiljana and me in the early seventies, she decided to separate from Energoprojekt. We created a special design office, subdivided it into bureaus. Ljiljana and I were running a bureau of 7 in total, and we were called Atelier 5. Everyone had their own investors and salaries. We were particularly chasing business, acquiring investors, and it remained so till the end.

We are talking about the time of socialism, and you are talking about a market game and individuality. How’s that now?

DB: It was not customary for such a large social enterprise to individualize itself to that extent. Energoprojekt was special, it had 5,500 engineers and a workers’ council. Neither I nor Ljiljana were ever members of the party, and our whole life we did what we wanted, so nobody interfered with us. That is something that is not possible here today. 

All this was largely due to Milica Šterić. The freedom that we had, the great confidence that she had in us young people. She developed herself by spending a good period of time working with Jaap Bakema in the Netherlands. In our country, she was the first to make a bearing glass facade, which is no longer present, and it was done with the most common ethermitte in the parapet. Very simple and cheap. She received the 7th of July Award for that house. She was an extraordinary personality, infinitely unselfish, in love with architecture at the cost of her private life. And also a great partisan. She kept our backs, of course, but the party did not meddle in what should be professional - unlike today.

Milica Šterić (1984). | Photo from the SAS catalogue “Nagrada arhitekture Srbije”

Yes, Milica played a big part. But there was also a system; our possibilities were unbelievable in relation to yours. We lived completely in a different time, with other conditions, opportunities, and career developments. What is happening today is horrible.

It is very interesting that thanks to Milica within a huge social enterprise we could sign as authors. It could not happen everywhere. Energoprojekt nurtured it; we struggled to be able to sign as authors. In smaller offices the directors were always the signatories of the projects. It was only in Energoprojekt that the architects themselves were signed as authors and this was a great achievement that we had won.

Your careers started in Kuwait and ended in Zimbabwe?

DB: We were very young when we went to Kuwait. With 25 years old this was a good period in our lives. This was the only time when Ljiljana and I work separately; me in Energoprojekt’s office and Ljiljana in the private office of construction engineers Sait Breik and Marwan Kalo. In order to get employed there she needed a special permit from Energoprojekt because it was a competition firm. At that time Yugoslavia was an exemplary ordered country. Especially in Kuwait, Ljiljana did a lot of projects because their office was then one of the busiest.

They begged us to stay there, but loyalty to Energoprojekt and our professor who employed us there were greater. We returned in 1966, and on that occasion we visited in detail almost all the Arab countries. In my opinion, study tours for architects have greater value than the study of architecture itself.

Headquarters of the Government of Zambia and the UNI Party1, Lusaka, Zambia, 1968-69. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

Our daughter Olga was born in 1967 and Biljana one year later. For Ljiljana and me our family was a sanctuary above everything else, therefore Ljiljana cut her career and spent the next four years devoting her attention to the education of our children. This proved to be very good because they have become more successful than their parents. We are proud of them as well as of our wonderful and serious sons in laws, Radovan and David. Our five grandchildren - Katarina (16), Julia (13), Jan Gabriel (12), Luk Daniel (10) and Klara Rose (8) are a real miracle. They live in New York and Warsaw, and they are growing so far away from us that with the years passing, it’s getting harder to meet them.

You were going back and forth, Yugoslavia, Middle East, Africa?

DB: We lived in Zimbabwe on two occasions in 1982/83 and in 1994/2001. During our first stay, we worked on the Congress Center with the Sheraton Hotel, which we received through an international competition. The project was published in detail in Anthony Krafft’s edition “The Contemporary Architecture of the World - 1987/88” in Lausanne, Switzerland.

Sheraton Harare Hotel is located next to the International Conference Centre in the capital city of Zimbabwe. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

During the second stay in Harare, we managed two Energoprojekt design offices Desicon and Bakić Architects. The second one was registered in our names because we had to get a RIBA license, but in practice we gave it to Energoprojekt. Bakić Architects has done and implemented dozens of projects mainly working for various ministries of the Government of Zimbabwe, and has received high recognition from the United Nations, which included it in its special list of 20 designer boutiques firms (up to 50 employees) around the world.

Headquarters of the Government of Zambia (model). | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

Out of our 40 years of intense architectural practice, we worked more than 10 years abroad. We worked very hard as very often we brought our work home from the office and continued solving the architecture. We’ve been in such a way for nearly 60 years.

THE ANATOMY OF LIFE

You participated in many World Congresses of the International Architects Union - UIA, which has its headquarters in Paris. Which one do you particularly emphasize?

DB: Those encounters with numerous architects from all over the world meant a lot to us. UIA congresses became very popular and gathered thousands of architects. The ones in Madrid in 1975 and in Montreal in 1990 were special. Particularly important for us was the one held in Chicago in 1993, where Ljiljana had her report especially praised by the President of the UIA - Greek architect Vasilis Zgutas, as well as the one held in Barcelona in 1996, when our Olga had her report immediately after the completed master’s study at Cornell University in America.

Dragoljub and Ljiljana with their daughters Biljana and Olga. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

In Chicago, we officially represented our country’s delegation to the Congress, and it was only Ljiljana, because they did not allow me to enter the United States because of the international sanctions. However, I had a decent substitute, because our younger daughter Biljana accompanied her. She had already settled in America that year and started her trip towards a triple magistrate and graduation at Harvard.

In Barcelona, we were again official representatives as the delegation of Zimbabwe and as Vasilis Zgutas commented - that we are indestructible - we lose one country and we quickly find another one. Barcelona was and is now a soft spot for architects. It is one of the most successfully urbanized cities of the world, especially architecturally enriched after 1992 when the Olympic Games were held there.

What else did you do besides the architectural practice and design?

DB: Our profession has a lot of charms. It is welcome in many human activities in the field of culture, but also in real life as well. It directly affects the lives of people and makes them richer and more beautiful, and people are often are not aware of it. The greater the awareness about architecture itself, the more the business is respected in society.  And vice versa.

Unfortunately in the last 30 years, all human values have been turned upside down here, and our profession, like many others, passes heavy days at the very margin of society. We remember something different and we are happy to remember that.

Ljiljana’s book “Anatomy of B & B Architecture” was awarded Ranko Radović Award (2012) in Serbia for the critical theoretical texts on architecture.

Ljiljana was the one who always wrote well, so she continued writing alongside her architectural practice, which is not often the case with architects. She seriously dealt with the philosophy of architecture, the theory of architecture and architectural criticism, and was very appreciated especially by the professional public. She has written dozens of texts, not just about architecture and urbanism, but also about the socio-political, sociological, and cultural environment in which we lived and worked. Many are represented in the book published in 2012 Anatomy of B & B Architecture.

Together we were also very active when it came to exhibitions of architecture and design. I was more active in the Association of the architects of Yugoslavia and Serbia, where I was the president of the Court of Honor for 20 years. We were very much concerned with the profession and it would happen that we deny membership in our Association to those who break the Moral Code of our architectural practice.

What the city administrations has in the meantime made of Belgrade, especially with the wild construction and investor urbanism, it would be difficult to qualify it today even for some Rural Sports Games.

You have received a lot of professional acknowledgments and rewards during your working life. Which ones are especially important for you?

DB: What I consider to be the biggest prize is the acknowledgment Ljiljana received in 2016, when selected to be among the 100 best and most important architects and designers of Europe for the period from 1918 to 2018. The MoMoWo- Modern Movement Women project is dedicated to the accomplishments of architects and designers throughout Europe and the year 1973 was dedicated to Ljiljana for the project of the Pionir Sports Hall.

What are you doing today?

DB: Both Ljiljana and I have entered our 80th year of life. Ljiljana continues to extensively write, this time her second book based on extensive journals that she diligently led during all of our turbulent and transitional years. We, who were born in the Kingdom of Yugoslavia, have changed five countries. From a large, populous and coastal country we learned to love, we now have a small continental one that continues to dwindle with both territory and population and for which we still do not know the boundaries and which we still cannot manage to make it resemble a real and normal state.

Again, according to the principle I have been holding on to for a long time - Carpe diem - I am trying to make, in a creative way, various things and entertainment in our yard for the short time during the summer when our grandchildren visit us. I work a lot in the garden, which I find inspiring and on a hill, from which the view of the Danube is beautiful. We are only five kilometers from the city center and yet we live in complete nature with a multitude of birds and animals.

Ljiljana and Dragoljub Bakič at the MoMoWo exhibition in Belgrade (2018). | Photo by Rade Kovač 

As Ljiljana continues to deal only with her writing, I had to take over the kitchen and in the everyday cooking I discover great creative possibilities and in time it has also become a hobby.

You are still very strong and active in the public sphere, and persistent in fighting for the future of Belgrade, and not only in terms of architecture.

DB: I am engaged with a bit of professional and civic activism, because I think that citizens should not hide their heads in the sand, but if they are educated then it is their duty to express their views when needed. I am trying to give my contribution to the fight against the uncaring and the unqualified city government that demonstrates its power by deploying real Urbicid in the systematic and daily destruction of the country’s Capitol. Unfortunately, they are successful because our profession, preoccupied by bare survival, absolutely provides no resistance.

Do you think that there is something that should be explicitly explained which might then be the conclusion for this story?

DB: It bothers me that as the prevailing impression remains that thousands of flowers flourished in all those past times. And that was not the case at all. This, our very own Orwell, which we experienced in 1984, was made by powerful local politicians within one of the only existing political parties, to hide and draw away public attention from the just discovered  malpractices’ of private purchases of  apartments in downtown.  In this, they were ardently supported by a group of our colleagues from Energoprojekt, a group of unappreciated architects, who were blinded by great envy. They could not forgive me and Ljiljana for the huge success we achieved with the project of the Congress Center in Zimbabwe and the very fact that we personally brought this business to Energoprojekt.

Male and female architects at work in the Department of Architecture and Urbanism at the headquarters of a major construction firm Energoprojekt in Belgrade. | Photo Courtesy Energoprojekt Archive

The whole world was opening for us. Suddenly, we stood out. We had to be cut. And that’s what happened. We were stopped in our 45th years of life, at the very peak of our careers when we were able to give the most.

All this happened in the second half of the 1980s, in the era of social ownership and the rule of a political party. Today there is private property, bared liberal capitalism and again the rule of one political party. Everything could be reasoned with if there were real institutions and the rule of law. In our 80 years of life, we have not managed to experience this wonder which is called the Rule of Law.

In those 80 years a lot has changed, but even with Yugoslavia – we cannot speak of it as a uniform entity, neither in time nor in space.

DB: Of course, in the era of socialism there were great differences, compare let’s say Serbia and Slovenia. For example, we could not even dream of having private offices, nor did any architect dream of having a private house. It would be normal for you as an architect to first try your experience on your own home - why not buy it and do it. I would say that as a condition: first you have to make a project for your house, and then for others. This was massive in Slovenia, for us, all that time they were the complete West. Slovenian architects really started with their homes, there was no architect there who did not designed his own house.

But then, in the end, you live in the house you have designed!

DB: Of course, that was one of our tricks.

Dragoljub Bakić at his home. | Courtesy of Dragoljub Bakić

---

With Dragoljub Bakić were talking Ljubica Slavković and Iva Čukić

[kissykiwi]

the day before you came (1)

im still writing this, but i couldn’t resist posting the very first chapter.  im excited about this piece, and i hope y’all will be too !!! welcome to my official return to writin things.

wherein harry is a travel writer who has officially reached his breaking point, y/n is a hotelier’s daughter who has never left kalokairi, and their paths are destined to meet. (mamma mia au, 2200 words)

There were days when Y/N really hated summer.  The effusion of flowers, running under bowers heavy with lemons, lying out in the sway of the tides under a full moon -- none of it felt worth it as she, her mother, and Georgie ran about The Muse.  It was the last day before the summer travel season truly began, and their little hotel was battening down the hatches for their first batch of tourists.

“Y/N, have you put the linens out on the line?  And Georgie, has Nikolas called about bringing in the week’s groceries yet?  I told you both that our first guest comes in at midnight tonight, and I’d like to have a cheese plate out to greet him!”

Because she was a good daughter, Y/N steadfastly resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  This was the third time Dee had reminded of her of the sheets that were quite visibly fluttering in the wind -- Y/N had even remembered the duvet and pillow covers that her mother always forgot.  Whoever this mystery guest was (listed only in the guestbook as “Rick Steves”), he had her mother in quite the tizzy.

“Yes mom.  And Georgie’s already told you that Nik was on the way, given that they never seem to manage two minutes without texting each other.”

To her right, two wide, brown doe eyes glared her down underneath a mop of riotous dark curls.

“He is my friend,” Georgie sniffed, flopping her mane of hair over her shoulder as she went to grab the stock book out of the front office.  Even Dee snorted at that one.

“Good friend, dear.  You oughta make a move.”

Beneath her sun burnished olive skin, Georgie turned bright red.  Y/N marveled at how perfectly in sync it was to the buzz of her phone.

“The food has come in from the mainland.  And just for that, Y/N, you can get it.”

“I’ll make sure to bring Nik with me,” Y/N called as she skipped towards the stairway down to the docks.

The stairway was tied without about 10 other places on the island for Y/N’s favorite view.  It had a sweeping panorama of the Aegean Sea as you clattered down the worn stone that made the staircase, and was lined on one side by a solemn row of cypress trees that she always rubbed for good luck (and for perfume).  As you got further down the winding cliffside, The Muse disappeared from view, and Y/N personally thought the surprise of coming up to B&B really added to value.  It was seldom enjoyed, as most guests either preferred or required the car ride up to their little villa, but that just meant it was Y/N’s secret in plain sight.  Sometimes she could sit halfway down, out of sight of both the hotel and the docks, and imagine what life was like beyond the Aegean, leagues past the limits of the towns in Greece she had seen.  Others she would follow her little northward path down the other side of the hill to Calliope’s Beach and float in the shallows until her fingers pruned and her hair was fairly coated with salt.  

The stairs themselves continued on down to a path that lead to the docks, where she had to go now.  The hotel’s ‘88 Range Rover, which was 60% blue paint and another 40% rust, was waiting at the top of the docks to carry the groceries back up the winding hill.  Y/N jogged down the steps, resisting the call of the beach as she went to run her errands.

Nik was tied off to the northmost piling in the docks like always, already busy stacking the hotel’s orders onto the dock beside him.  Crates of fresh veggies, pungent cheeses, and the first few days of seafood had made their way onto the wooden boards, and no doubt the specifically requested order of teas was the last to come.  Y/N’s eyebrows had about hit her hairline when she’d seen the list of some regional, some clearly British brews that had been added in almost hilarious quantity to their usual roster.  

“Got a bit of an herbalist coming, hm?” Nik asked as he hefted the last chest out onto the docks.  Y/N nodded slowly.

“Apparently.  D’you know Georgie told me that whoever requested these also called ahead to see if we’d allow his candles?”

Nik laughed, though Y/N knew for a fact that it was information Georgie had given him the week before when the call came in.  Ever the good sport.

“Well, at least you know he’ll be careful enough not to burn the Muse down.  Probably, anyway.  Do you know anything else about whoever requested all of this?”  Y/N couldn’t help but sigh, because she didn’t, and it was bugging her.  Usually her mother was something of an open book regarding who would be coming in to see them, but she was abnormally tight lipped regarding this specific guest.  Wouldn’t even give vague details, like age or nationality, or if Mr. Steves was even a Mr. at all.  

“Not a thing Nik,” she responded over the clunk of their crates being loaded into the trunk.  “I can hardly wait for tonight.”

---

Kalokairi, Harry thought, had better be bloody beautiful for all the hassle it was to get out to it.  He had only just finished the rounds for his latest book (Couch Surfing In Copenhagen: Scandinavia for Twenty Somethings), finalizing the last leg of his work in the bustle that was New York, and he was already well drained by the time he’d hit JFK.  He was just beginning hour three of his car ride from Athens to Lirios, one that had begun immediately after a ten hour nonstop flight, and he was well and truly out of energy.  He still had a half hour ferry to go to get to the island itself after they’d made it to the docks.  There was a headache growing behind his eyes, though whether it was from the extended travel, the amount of time he’d been awake, or the itch he had for one of the cigarettes his driver had been periodically smoking, he wasn’t sure.

Safe to say his relaxing, restorative three month break was starting as anything but.  As he watched the Greek highway roll by, he couldn’t help but feel a bit melancholy.

There was a time in his life when no matter how jetlagged he was, no matter how many hours he spent in transit, the thrill of travel kept him feeling fresh.  There was an image he had in his mind then, of a seed on the wind, ready to plant himself wherever the breeze helped him land.  That was how his writing career had started.  He had been eighteen, going on small trips from England to the continent and writing little blogs about it to get some practice in for his dream magnum opus.  It had felt like a dream when one of the UK’s biggest publishers had approached him about a travel novel.  One novel had turned into two had turned into five, and now at the ripe old age of twenty four, Harry had officially had his midlife crisis.

Where had his plans gone for a more serious novel?  Alright-- well.  He would defend his travel work to the grave, so he didn’t want the impression going about that he was ashamed of it, because he never would be.  He knew he’d helped people, whether it was to find where to go or to enjoy a long plane ride of their own.  But since fourteen he’d envisioned a proper zeitgeist novel; funny but honest, reflective but not obvious, the kind of thing that could represent a generation.  Crashing in Cairo: An Englishman’s Journey Through North Africa certainly wasn’t his most contemplative work.  And besides that, he wondered what travel meant to him anymore besides a few months work and a paycheck.  There was a love he’d had once, and he felt an ache in his chest knowing that that was gone.

All of this he had explained through heaving, shuddery breaths on a long distance connection to Gem, who had responded with a deep sigh.

“Frankly, H, I think you need a sabbatical,” she’d said knowingly.  “Just get away from it all, take a break.  Stay somewhere for longer than a month.”  Harry had laughed somewhat hysterically.

“Getting away from it all’s my job, Gem.  The usual solutions are a bit out of my grasp.”

“I mean it Harry.  Find a tiny island somewhere and just take time for yourself.  No travel writing, no deadlines, no talking to your agent about where in the world they’re dropping you off next.”

“I can’t even look at a map of the world without getting nauseous,” he moaned and hey, that may have been an exaggeration, but Harry was feeling awfully grim.

“Then you’ll take my recommendation with no questions.  There’s this little place called Kalokairi.  It’s a Greek island in the Aegean, that’s practically made of sun, blue water, and good food.  I stayed there with my friends a year or two ago, and they have the most wonderful little hotel there that I know you’ll love.  How does three months this summer sound?”

A rock in the middle of the ocean had sounded pretty damn good, and so here he was hurtling down the road to what was likely little more than a dinghy out to an island he hadn’t even googled.

Truly, what had his life become?  Curling his shaking fingers into his palm, he leaned forward to his driver.

“Say, could I bother you for a cigarette?”

---

Y/N was fairly wrecked by the time she made it to her bed in the room above the registration desk.  As her mother aged she did more heavy lifting, and she felt as though she had run a marathon or two.  At the very least Dee had taken pity and sent her up for bed instead of asking her to wait for the mysterious Mr. Steves.

She’d heard nothing of him before his check in, and the radio silence had her absolutely itching to see what all the fuss was about.  Though she never told her mother it, the guests were her way of living vicariously outside of their microcosm of the world.  Being denied any information about their international man (or woman) of mystery had her head spinning with scenarios.  Maybe it was some high up government boss bitch here on a rest and recovery, someone who’d have stories of Moscow and Sao Paulo and Jakarta.  Could be that it was some creaky old man who’d lived in Berlin during the Cold War and had stories about sneaking across the wall and the underground scene.  Maybe (and this was quite the hopeful maybe) it was someone her age who’d gotten to see just a bit of the world, someone who would want to talk to her and be a new friend (the first in twenty years).  Or even more.

That was why, though it was just about midnight and creeping ever closer to her nineteenth hour of being awake this day, she was huddled close to her window and sipping from one of the teas she was allowed to have.  She’d heard the ferry come in (the ancient catamaran was something of a screamer after a long day of travel), and had forced herself upright to wait for her mother to return with their first of the season.

Across the dimly lit courtyard, she saw the gate into the villa’s main environs swing open.  There was her mother, the unmistakable silhouette of her hair and sprinkle of her laugh indicative even from a ways away.  Next to her, was what looked like a man, and probably a young one.  He dwarfed her mother, all willowy limbs and long frame, and she could make out some duck fluff soft curls.  He was carrying quite a few bags and her mother had a few more.  This was no doubt the three month stay.  Though she couldn’t make out much of him, there was something about the line of his shoulders and his skinny little ankles that made her hope he might be rather cute.

“Jus’ a bit tired is all.  Last year or two have been rather long, I s’pose.”  His voice was rich and low, and his accent was easily pegged as British, though she hardly knew which region.  It made something curl in her stomach.  Her curiosity was well and truly piqued.

“Well, we hope you’ll be able to relax here.  I’m excited for you to see the island in the morning.  I remember the first time I saw it-- it was dawn then, and it just about took my breath away.  And my daughter will be around with your breakfast for whenever you list it.  You have us at your disposal, given you’re our first arrival.”

Her mom had taken the route that kept his face in shadow,  and Y/N tried not to flush guiltily as Dee looked knowingly up at the window and wiggled her fingers.  Y/N sighed and rolled over to turn out the light.  It looked like finding out whoever this man was would have to wait until the morning.

[hazeofhearts]

Smoldering Blue

Hello readers! Before we begin, I would like to say that I do not own any of these characters or you.

Hope you enjoy!

(I just need some soft!Billy please. All of it.)

Warning: very, very smutty. Approach with caution.

You heaved yourself out of your window onto your roof, crawling across the shingles to the flat part of your roof you knew to meet your boyfriend.

The clatter of the ladder on the side of the house made you wince and crawl even further to the edge of the roof.

“You moron, my parents could hear,” you hissed.

“Relax, babe. This happens every time i come over and every time nothing happens.”

The curled hair that you loved so much poked over the edge of the roof and you couldn’t help but soften your demeanour. Billy crawled onto the roof, his jeans and boots scraping on the sand papery tiles and he situated himself behind you, his legs stretched out on either side of your crossed legs.

Billy’s arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you back into his chest. You reached a hand behind you and tugged at the curl you knew would be hanging exactly within arms reach.

A sigh escaped your boyfriends lips and caressed the back of your neck, making you shiver. Billy’s hands rubbed your stomach and teased themselves upwards.

“Hargrove,” you warned.

“I can’t help it baby.”

You twisted yourself around and kneeled in front of Billy, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders as you touched your forehead to his.

“I know, baby. But let’s just have ten minutes to talk about our day.”

Billy nodded and let you go first. You happily chatted about your part time job filing papers at the police station. It was an easy way to get money and guaranteed none of your classmates would do it either.

“That chief giving you any trouble? I heard he can be an ass.”

“Any more than you?”

“Ouch, baby.”

You giggled and asked Billy about his day. As usual, he had a much shorter list of things to say. Only mentioning certain things, like the health of Max, when asked.

You sat in silence then, his legs crossed and you sat in his lap, your arms around his neck. You pressed a gentle kiss to his Adam’s apple and heard him chuckle.

You trained your eyes to the stars, trying to locate the new constellation you had learned today, just for him.

“That’s Canis Major. It’s also called the Great Dog. You can see Sirius right there. Here.”

You grabbed Billy’s hand and traced the lines of stars with his finger, knowing his eyes were following your directions.

“You’re so smart baby,” he murmured, his lips tickling your ear.

“Only because you let me show off,” you replied, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. You trailed a hand down his clothes chest. Lately, he had been wearing shirts that didn’t require buttons so he couldn’t unbutton them basically all the way down.

He knew that you got a bit jealous when some girl would let her eyes go down down down so he cleaned himself up a bit.

“It’s been 15 minutes, baby. You wanna go inside,” you asked in a whisper.

In response, Billy heaved you into his arms and stood, walking over to your window and letting you crawl in before following. Billy immediately began undressing and you followed not long after. You both were taking your time but there was also this intense urgency under it. This time would be different for reasons you didn’t know yet.

You were in the middle of taking off your pants, already topless, when your boyfriend came over and snagged his fingers in your belt loops. He glided them gently down your legs, bringing your underwear with them. Then he traced his hands up your ass and squeezed it playfully.

You turned around and Billy scooped you up once again, laying you down on the bed, your legs crossed delicately.

Billy stumbled over your body and trailed his hands over your legs, spreading them and settling between them. You could feel a nervous breath fanning over your mound and this made your stomach flip. Billy was never this slow.

“You okay, baby?”

Billy traced your thighs with his fingers gently, making goosebumps appear on your legs. You squeezed your legs against the warmth of Billy’s waist and gave him a small smile.

“You know we don’t have to-“

You sucked in a gasp as Billy licked a broad stripe up your pussy. Without warning, Billy latched himself onto your clit and sucked. Your hands flew to his hair, tugging on it so you didn’t cry out. Your parents room was downstairs but they were both light sleepers.

You circled your thighs around Billy’s head as he eats you out. The sounds coming from his mouth made you more aroused and your hands began to shake.

He would flick your clit rapidly with his tongue at random intervals that made you buck your hips up into his mouth. He finally detached himself from your pussy, only to return to it with his fingers. He traced your folds before sliding them in and curling them. Your hand went to your abandoned clit and circled it, going in time with Billy’s fingers.

He quickly transitioned from soft thrusts to hard, his fingers barely leaving your pussy and making you breathless. The wet noises coming from you made you cry out softly, your other hand tugging Billy’s curls again.

Your orgasm washed over you and you shuddered heavily, bucking onto Billy’s fingers and squirming on your bed, lifting your hips.

Billy slid his fingers out of you and hovered over you, planting his elbows on your bed so his face was close to yours. He licked his fingers and lips and wiped his mouth, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

He reached down between you and took hold of his cock, letting the tip slide between your folds. You groaned quietly, moving to get any friction you could.

Billy dropped his forehead onto yours and looked into your eyes. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“Are you sure you’re okay Billy? You seem a little off.”

Genuine concern laced your voice and Billy slid into you slowly, trying to distract you from the topic.

“Ooohhhhhh,” you breathed out. “You’re not getting away that easily baby. What’s bothering you.”

Billy bit his lip and you reached up and released it from his teeth, rubbing your thumb across it instead, your trembling hand betraying your calm demeanour.

“I just love you so much. I…..”

Billy started thrusting slowly, going around in a circle each time he entered you. You spread your legs as far as they would go right then.

This was the most romantic sex you had ever had. It wasn’t fucking and it was just beyond normal sex. He was horny because when was he not but he was also really sweet. He was soft and slow and looked into your eyes for long periods of time.

His eyes were liquid blue. Dark and stormy, like what you imagined the ocean would look like. He’s described it to you so many times when you were up on the roof but you were more focused on the emotions in his voice. You knew he had fond memories of the ocean when he talked about it.

“T-Talk to me baby. I love you too but I need to know what’s upsetting you.”

Billy burrowed his face in your neck, biting and sucking a small hickey. His movements where hesitant and clumsy. He was really shaken up about something.

You ran your fingers through his hair and that got him going a bit. He scooped you up and sat back on his heels, making you sink all the way onto his cock. He held you like that as you cried out softly. It was a strange position, one that you had never really tried before. But it was bringing you pleasure so you didn’t mind.

“I love you. I love you so much baby. You know I do. I don’t say it as much as I should. I love you.”

With every word Billy spoke, his thrusts got faster. He had his arms wrapped around your back, pressing your chests together.

“I love you do, I know you do.”

Each upward thrust made you moan and squeak. You snakes your arms around Billy’s back and moved them to squeeze his ass cheeks.

“Oh baby. Please baby, please.”

You could have came right then by the needy noises Billy was making and how he begged you. You leaned back and took his cheek in your hand.

“Cum, baby. Cum for me,” you spoke into his neck.

Billy drilled into you, feeling his pelvic bone hit you every time he bottomed out sent shockwaves through your body. He had cupped your breasts and was currently tweaking your nipples every so often. Your hands were anchored to his shoulders, your nails digging into his flesh.

“I-I’m, baby, I’m-“

“Yes baby, yes. Cum inside me. Come on.”

Tugging on Billy’s hair one final time, he emptied his load into you, rutting shallowly into you to work over his orgasm. When he was finished, he noticed you were rubbing yourself and he pushed your hands aside, taking over for you.

He rubbed your clit in fast circles, making you shudder and lean heavily into him. When he finally tipped you over the edge, you went limp, making him fall over at the foot of your bed.

His fingers were still moving and you had to push them away from the sensitivity. You were aware that Billy’s cock was still inside you but you just wanted to savour this moment for a little bit.

This was the boy you loved. The boy who you had broken through enough walls to find out why he was an asshole. You had patched him up, mentally and physically sometimes and he did the same for you.

Billy raised you up, sliding his cock out of you and setting you down on your pillows. He went into your bathroom across the hall and came back with a warm washcloth.

He nudged your legs gently apart and you allowed him to clean you, looking at him with possibly the most sickeningly sweet and loving eyes possible.

He cleaned himself off then and returned the washcloth to your bathroom before coming into your room, grabbing his t-shirt and sliding it over your upper body when you raised your arms. You burrowed your nose into the fabric, the same smell of cigarettes and his expensive cologne as was engraved onto his skin, greeting you.

He pulled you to his chest, rubbing his thumb up and down your upper arm. You allowed yourself to crane your neck to look at him. He looked extremely thoughtful at that moment. You pressed a hand gently to his pectoral to get his attention.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Billy returned his eyes to the ceiling, clenching his jaw for a second before opening his mouth slowly.

“Do you…. would you ever consider… staying with me? Like forever?”

You cocked your head to the side, not expecting the question.

“I mean, I’m pretty attached to you Hargrove. You’d have to do something pretty fucked up for me to not want to be with you.”

“But I mean forever. Like marriage,” the last word was uttered so quietly you feared you may have imagined it.

“Marriage?”

“Yeah,” another soft reply.

A beat of silence. You felt Billy shift under you, appearing to want to get up.

“Just forget I said anything. It was stupid.”

You smacked you hand down on Billy’s chest, startling him.

“I will not forget what you said, Billy. You just proposed to me!”

“Well kind of. I didn’t do it right.”

“Yes, but it’s not the process that matters. It’s the end product. I don’t even care if you have a ring or not.”

“I actually do.”

You startled back for an second.

“Wait a hot damn minute. You mean tell me that you bought a ring to propose to me with?”

A shy nod.

“Do you have it with you?”

Another nod, this one followed by his head buried in your chest.

“What the hell man! Go get it! Unless you spent a shit ton of money on it. Then I’ll sock you right in the jaw.”

Billy rolled off the bed to his pants that had ended up on the back of your desk chair. You curled yourself up a bit, your chin resting in your hand. You had a warm feeling overcoming your stomach and it wasn’t just because you had the most mind-blowing sex ever.

“I know it looks like I got it from a fucking cereal box but I promise I didn’t. I saved up a lot of my gas money for it. I know you deserve so much more. You deserve a ring that costs about a million dollars.”

Billy presented the ring to you in the palm of his hand and tears sprung up in your eyes.

The band was a rose gold and it had two sapphire teardrop gems on either side of the (birthstone) gem in the middle.

“Billy! It’s beautiful! I couldn’t ask for a better engagement ring.”

“So that means you’re saying yes,” an extremely hope filled voice made you want to tackle him.

“Of course it’s a yes!”

Billy slipped the ring on your finger and you threw yourself at him, burying your face in his bare chest.

After the excitement had worn off a bit, you laid back down and decided to try and get some sleep. You felt warm and happy all over, butterflies filling your stomach every time Billy shifted under you.

You were engaged! Engaged! You idly wondered what other kinds of surprises awaited you in the future.

(I JUST LIKE SEX AND PROPOSALS OKAY? SUE ME!!!)

[revlyncox]

Sowing and Reaping

This sermon was delivered to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Silver Spring by Rev. Lyn Cox on August 5, 2018. In it, we explore covenant, the Pagan holiday of Lammas, and the wisdom of Ms. Frizzle. This worship services launches a one-year interim ministry.

Blessed is the earth, which brings forth food for all that lives. Blessed is the rain, flowing with the water of life. Blessed is the sun, which calls to grow and which speeds our return to the earth. Blessed is the wind that carries the seed and the mist, the warm and the cool, the new and the returned. May we collaborate with and give thanks for the forces that create and uphold life. Blessed be.

I am a clueless gardener. It might be a little bit of an overstatement to say I like gardening. It might be more accurate to say that I find gardening fulfilling, even though I don’t exactly know what I’m doing. I learn spiritual lessons from gardening, mainly about how I am not in control of the universe. Perhaps because I needed to learn that lesson now more than ever, I made an ambitious plan for this year’s garden. Starting in February, I made lists of plants and I used graph paper to map out how I hoped the garden would look.

Around May 1, my kids and my partner came home from a Department of Agriculture educational event with tomato seedlings in medium-size containers, around which they had planted spinach, beans, peas, and sunflowers. My kids had great luck, and soon we had little plants ready to be put into the ground. The spinach couldn’t make the transition, but the other plants looked promising. I re-drew my maps.

Under the general category of “I am not in control of the universe,” I have learned a few corollary lessons so far this summer. Lesson One: squirrels love tomatoes. In past years, when I grew cherry tomatoes, I could harvest some before they were snatched up. This year’s crop of lovely, disease-resistant, full-sized heirloom tomatoes proved to be irresistible to our local furry friends. Lesson Two: When you let children plant seeds, they will definitely put more than one seed in every hole. What I thought would be three sunflower seedlings turned into six tall, lovely sunflowers. There were seven, but squirrels like to eat sunflowers almost as much as they love tomatoes. Lesson Three: not all seedlings survive to bear fruit, no matter what you do. The beans had an early crop, then half of the plants died, and the rest needed a month of tender, loving care. All of the pea plants died except one. Sometimes things don’t work out the way we hope.

In late July, as I was deciding if I wanted to plant again for a late harvest or if I wanted to give up, I was reminded of the old aphorism about planting beans: “Sow four seeds as you make your row: one for the mouse, one for the crow, one to rot, and one to grow.” In other words, plan for uncertainty. Take chances, knowing not everything we try will bear the fruit we hope for. When the odds are slim, increase your tries.

Hearing this rhyme again helped me get out of the trap of, “Why me?” Gardeners and farmers in many times and places had gone through the disappointment of losing bean seedlings. The saying has some variations, such as replacing “mouse” with “cutworm,” “rook,” or “pigeon.”  There are many ways for a seed to end up as something other than food for humans. Loss does not always arise from lack of effort or character flaw. Sometimes things just don’t pan out. Sometimes you learn from mishaps. The old rhyme pushed me into an experimental mindset, the ability to try new things, or to try again after failure with the full understanding that there are no guarantees. I planted some new beans and peas, along with some radishes and beets, hoping for a late September harvest.

Moving from a focus on failure to a focus on experimentation also helped me to be grateful for the plants that did survive and grow. Nurture what is working well. Give thanks, because spectacular things do not happen through the will of one person alone. If you saw my post about today’s service on Facebook or Twitter, I included a photo of the very first pea that came to maturity in my garden, one beautiful little pod, turning green and plump against very long odds.

This is the essence of some earth-centered holidays that happens around this time of year in the Northern Hemisphere, this holiday of the first harvest and the high summer tinged with the first glimmers of autumn. Some might call this holiday Lammas, which is a holiday about bread, celebrating the first grains of the season being harvested and threshed and ground. Some might call this holiday Lughnasadh (also spelled Lúnasa), after the god Lugh, a god of craftsmanship and many skills. At Lammas, we practice gratitude, we focus on the blessings we do have, and we realize that the earth itself is a more powerful partner than individual human gardeners in bringing about the abundance of the season. We remember sowing the seeds months ago, and we remember that planting is always a gamble, and we collect seeds from this year to use in the spring. When something bears fruit, we plan to use that experience in the future, we share the credit and the harvest, and we put love and artistry into the further work of transformation.

As it turns out, the spirituality of gardening carries with it some ideas that are echoed in science, education, and congregational life. One of my science education role models is Ms. Frizzle from the book and TV series of the 1990’s, “The Magic School Bus.” If you don’t know Ms. Frizzle, ask your nearest children’s librarian. In every book or episode, her students complete research projects about something like magnetism, the solar system, dinosaurs, or the human digestive system. When the students run into a question they can’t answer, Ms. Frizzle proposes a surprise field trip. “To the bus! Seatbelts, everyone!” The bus mysteriously becomes big or small, or travels through time or outer space, or withstands the conditions of a volcano or a waterfall so that the students are able to make observations and answer their scientific questions. Ms. Frizzle always says, “Take chances! Make mistakes! Get messy!” These three instructions are key for the ability of the class to learn new things and to have fun while learning.

Take chances. Make mistakes. Get messy. You will hear me say these three things again, because they also speak to a congregation’s opportunities during the Interim Ministry period.

Going back to the spiritual insights of Lammas, we learn at this time of year that we had to take chances. Only one out of four bean seeds in the rhyme led to a harvest. Sowing any kind of seed at all, literal or metaphorical, is a gamble. Not everything turns out the way we hope. Indeed, even as we bring in the first fruits, these are risky times. Sudden storms that cause the crop to rot or drought that invites wildfire are both real possibilities in August. Our inability to control the universe does not mean we are bad or lazy or incomplete. Living life to the fullest, learning and growing, requires a certain degree of risk.

In spiritual community, especially during the golden opportunity of an Interim year, we take chances together. We experiment with new ways of understanding the world, with different ways of worshipping and of doing church. We take the risk of speaking the truth with love. Take chances.

Make mistakes. Ms. Frizzle reminds us that the scientific method involves making a hypothesis and testing it. If we guess right every time, science doesn’t advance as quickly. We have to be willing to be wrong sometimes, and to admit we were wrong so that we can get to the juicy, exciting part of the learning process. We are human beings and we are fallible. Our tendency to make mistakes does not and should not cut us off from human community or from the traditions of spiritual growth or from the disciplines of science and craftsmanship. Humans are welcome in community, broken and whole, flawed and fabulous.

Lugh, the god who is celebrated at Lughnasadh (Lúnasa), is a character of many skills. He’s a warrior and a wheelwright, he’s a musician, he’s an athlete. Even mythical characters have to practice. Getting better at anything, from blacksmithing to gardening to being human, means we have to start out not being very good at it. Fail spectacularly. Fail with gusto. Fail better, and keep learning.

I tried growing beans and peas, and I mostly failed for the first harvest. Some part of that was due to random chance, but another part helped me learn about drainage, pest control, and planting more seeds than I think I am going to need for my crop. We’ll see how the second harvest goes. When I remembered that it’s OK to make mistakes, I was able to celebrate what I had and use what I learned rather than dwell on failure. Make mistakes.

Get messy! Farming involves getting covered with dirt, and sometimes covered in things more specific than dirt. Science education can lead to all kinds of messes, from vinegar and baking soda reactions to rock collections to close observations of living things. The abundance of Lammas puts us knee deep in flour, or the gluten-free grain of your choice. In the middle of a chaotic rush to bring the harvest home, we pay more attention to what we are doing together than on looking neat and pristine or on creating the illusion of having everything together.

In spiritual community, we get messy by being vulnerable and by accepting the range of wisdom and experience and emotion that our companions bring to community. An inclusive community welcomes all people, but not all behaviors. Figuring out how to be together, setting boundaries to help the congregation to be a place of courage and growth, is not easy. This is the art of covenant. Communities where people are authentic are complicated and difficult and heartbreaking and annoying and surprisingly joyful. Get messy.   

This Lammas, let us give thanks. Let us remember the risks and acknowledge the losses, yet let us focus on gratitude and abundance. Fail better, and increase tries. This Lughnasadh (Lúnasa), let us celebrate the skills within us and among us, and let us commit to the love and artistry of living in community. As we bring in the first fruits of this new church year together, let us commit to a path of spiritual growth, lifelong learning, diverse and welcoming community, justice, and compassion. To stay on that path, let us take chances, make mistakes, and get messy.

So be it. Blessed be. Amen.

[electraposts]

AIC 30

Her day started ludicrously early, but suffering was just her lot in life so it made sense. Aiko was incredibly morose about it but she made it to the office at 4:30, right about the time that a wan-looking Nishikawa unlocked the doors. They exchanged a commiserating look. Aiko's protection detail merely stared at them, miserable and baggy-eyed a few feet back. The woman leaned against the wall while Nishikawa shuffled off to turn on the lights and turn off the security system.

She took a moment to wonder if her supposed bodyguard was going to keel over and die. It didn't seem like a bad option, honestly. The sun wasn't even up. Aiko was an absolute monster for causing her staff to be at work this early.

Silently, Aiko put a hand in her pocket and offered the bodyguard a candy from her stash.

The chuunin took it on a nimble reflex. Then she looked at her palm. Her mouth came open slightly and lines formed on her forehead. She looked genuinely confused about how this state of affairs had come to be. She was not ready to live in a world where there was a cherry candy on her palm. She had not prepared for it.

'I think the night shifts need to be shorter,' Aiko decided. '11 pm to 7 am is unreasonable. This lady is going to die.'

That seemed like a good time to go and start the coffeemaker. Aiko filled the one intended for her office staff and just stood there, waiting for it to percolate. Nishikawa came in as the machine was finishing up.

He gave her a mildly concussed stare, as if he wasn't completely certain who he was looking at. “Ah, thank you, Mizukage-sama.”

She meant to tell him it was no trouble, but she wound up yawning at him instead. He pretended not to smile and instead turned to pull out milk from the fridge.

She had already sorted through the dishdrainer to find the cup with his name on the bottom and set it next to hers on the counter, so she poured coffee the instant the dripping stopped. He took his mug gratefully and drained it as-is while she tore open sugar packets. He was half-finished by the time she leaned against the counter and started stirring with her usual yellow spoon. Security wasn't allowed to eat or drink from the same sources as the kage, so the chuunin went off to secure the premises.

They were both on their second cup before Aiko dredged up the will to focus on work. “Today.” She rubbed at her eyes. “I have a meeting with Sakurai at noon. Right?”

Nishikawa took a moment to respond, eyes flicking upward. “Yes,” he said slowly. “I'll make reservations and tell him where to meet you. Do you have a dining preference?”

“The private room in Koyama.” She yawned. She covered her mouth with her wrist. “Also invite Yuusaku and Karin to this lunch. I'll bring Gaara with me when I go. So make the reservation for 5, I suppose.”

He just nodded. “Would you like to order at the time, or for me to select from the menu?”

“We'll order,” Aiko decided. “Karin is picky, I think.” She knocked back the rest of the cup, and oh there was a deposit of sugar that she hadn't fully dissolved. Yes. So good. She deserved this. “Other than Sakurai, assign that group as working on the reserved space with me. Add Keisuke and Ryuusei too, tell them to report by 1:50. Kanagawa-sensei confirmed his group, right?”

“Un.” Nishikawa rinsed out his cup and filled it with water. “So you'll be out there from about 2 until 6?”

“Sounds right.” She gave a stretch. “I'll be back in the office around 7 to handle any correspondence and signover paperwork. Ask Saito-san her opinion on the two accountant candidates, but you'll make the final decision. I want someone starting on Monday.” She refilled her coffee and started tearing open sugar packets. “Priority is the letter to Nadeshiko, have Sakurai bring it with him to lunch so I can approve it. If it's good, send it with a three-man team.”

“Of course, Mizukage-sama,” he murmured. He watched her stir her coffee. “Is there anything else?”

She pursed her lips, but couldn't think of anything. “I think we're good.” Aiko lifted her coffee in salute on the way out. “Once more, into the breach.”

“It's Thursday,” Nishikawa called after her.

“I know. Twice more into the breach just doesn't sound that good,” Aiko yelled back. She heard him laugh as she opened her office door. Her protection detail had already unlocked it and circled the room to end up behind the genjutsu curtain. Aiko took pity and asked the chuunin to watch for threats from the vantage point of the couch. It did not take much convincing.

She spent way too much time doing paperwork. Other office workers began trickling in after a couple of hours, as well as her change in bodyguard. Aiko sent one of them away with a stack of documents to be filed when Mira came in. Saito came in with a particularly hard jaw to take the mission assignments. Aiko took the correspondences out to Nishikawa's desk personally.

And they were off. Gaara brought in a report about his investigation into the poison, and then sat in on her interview of the team that had escorted the relevant shipment.

“All the way from Nadeshiko to the processing,” Oda Kai promised. He managed to meet her eyes when he said it.

His twin sister nodded agreement. “We noted no irregularities. The merchants' identities and papers were verified in Nadeshiko, one of us was present and alert with the group at all times during transit, and no signs of tampering by the merchants or any outside party were discernible.”

“Right.” Aiko glanced down on the profile of the four-person merchant team. She had already checked over the information for the farmer and the processing plant where the tsukemono had been made. It looked legitimate so far as she could tell from Kirigakure. “This was the second such mission you have taken from Nadeshiko, correct? Have you done similar missions in past?”

The twins exchanged a glance. Kai tilted his head at Aoi. She sucked in the side of her pockmarked cheek and took the initiative. “Many. A truly numbing amount, but there was a break of several years between these escort missions for Nadeshiko and the missions we did prior.”

Gaara gave Aiko a sideways glance at that, but kept his mouth shut.

The movement had drawn both chuunins' attention to Gaara. Aiko considered their obvious curiosity and thought about publicly sharing Gaara's apprenticeship status. She should do that. Eventually. After she got things sorted out with Temari.

“The merchant company that came left Kirigakure after less than 24 hours within our walls. Does this align with their implied plans before your arrival?”

Kai nodded. “It does. And while that is an unusual profile for many merchant visitors, it aligns with a merchant delivering a pre-arranged contract. They would have a financial interest in returning as soon as possible to their home state.”

The interview didn't yield anything outright useful. Gaara rounded on her when the door shut behind the chuunin.

She leaned back and took a deep breath.

“The long period of time between their previous escort missions and the Nadeshiko escort is a discrepancy. Why?”

Aiko wound some hair around her fingers and pursed her lips at her student. She tried not to look too disappointed, because the answer there was easy. “You need me to tell you why that's true?”

Gaara looked a little affronted. He stood perfectly still and narrowed his eyes at her.

She tilted her head.

“Changes in leadership and economic troubles,” Gaara said.

“Pin-pon.” Aiko gave him a thumbs-up. “Good thought. They would have done that kind of mission routinely as experienced genin and novice chuunin. They would not be taking those missions now if we had caught up on the backlog of low-level missions.”

“So it is not relevant to the poisoning.” Gaara looked away.

“It isn't,” Aiko confirmed. “But it was good to notice that detail.” She felt mean to shut down his line of inquiry, but not all ideas were correct. Noticing the oddity in the first place and wondering about it was a sign that Gaara was applying analytical thinking. He was doing well.

She shook the thought off with a sigh. She'd bring it up at his next performance review. Giving feedback all the time wasn't a good use of their hours together.

“Do you want to personally come with me to Nadeshiko to speak with Shizuka?” Aiko put away his report and started digging for what she would need next. “I'm going to wait until a day or so after she should have received our official complaint about the issue. She will undoubtedly look into the incident on her end immediately to ensure that none of her people put her in breach of contract. So it's best to give her some time and cut down on waiting.” Aiko found what she was looking for and unrolled the long scroll onto her desk top. “Look at this, please.”

Gaara took two steps closer. “Accompanying you is acceptable. Is this the park project for the day?” His tone was neutral.

“It sure is,” Aiko said cheerfully. It was nice to be done with the absolute desperation measures. The bare bones of infrastructure for safety and housing were in place, so some community works could be done before pivoting to updating things like aging water lines. “You're going to help me dig out this lake here, and move the soil and sand over to form this bank and planting area. At that point, my genin- chuunin, sorry, my chuunin and the two genin teams will work on filling the lake with fuinjutsu while we go and retrieve the saplings.” She flexed her fingers. Then she went to dig out the hospital funding report, because she needed to talk to some old people about hallway width and secure storage for medicine.

“And then I will direct the Academy students in planting small trees,” Gaara said.

Aiko gave him a quick look through her eyelashes, because it was hard to read his mood from his voice there. His face didn't bring more enlightenment, so- “Yep. And poor Yuusaku gets to direct his teammates and Karin in using all the lumber to assemble the planting beds and park benches. Or maybe split them up from the genin teams...”

Gaara actually looked at her for that. He took a long, slow breath in. “Karin-san will not be pleased.”

“Karin is a genin,” Aiko said absently. “She can be as grumpy as she wants, she is a village asset just like everyone else. And we are making a pretty park together like a family.”

He gave her a long, steady look that implied he was weighing her chances of surviving that conversation. “This path here. What purpose does it serve?”

Aiko took a look. “Running path, for civilians and Academy students. It's a safe, central location away from the training grounds. It will also be very pretty when the plums and cherries are blooming.” Eat that, Konoha. They had pretty shit too.

“And the herbs will scent the air,” Gaara said. He seemed to be just a bit amused by the whole thing.

“That's practical,” Aiko defended. She sat back in her chair. “Planting herbs and fruit trees and vegetables for public consumption is part of combating poverty and hunger. In combination with the rice subsidy-”

“I did not mean to criticize.” Gaara unfolded his arms. “My apologies, Aiko-sama.”

She watched him suspiciously for a moment, but allowed her student to back away from his sass. “Go survey the area,” she ordered. Her attention was already turning to her next meeting. “Take the plans with you. After that, the morning is yours until you will meet me here at 11:45 to head to lunch.”

“Mizukage-sama.” Gaara rolled up the scroll and tucked it under his arm. He paused at the door. “There was one more thing.”

“Oh?” She tore herself away from the report. “Not about the poisoning- our guest?” Hell, they still had Raidou. Maybe they should, uh. Let him go or something. Or move him into diplomatic housing once it had electricity. What was he working on now? She should check up on that...

“The unconscious guest.” Gaara, bless him, said with with no humor at all. “He has awoken. About four minutes ago.” He seemed perfectly fine with the party line about the Konoha delegation and how they were enjoying splitting their time between Mizukage-inflicted hospital arrest and hard labor.

'Not like Utakata.  The sighing every time he has to talk about the situation is getting old.'

Aiko considered telling him not to leave his sand on strangers to spy on them, but it seemed counterproductive. It was useful. “Alright, thank you. I'll go check on that soon. For now, he should be in good hands.”

'Am I being a bad mom by not correcting his manners, though? He should respect peoples' privacy. Sometimes. Why did he even want to spy on Sai? And why didn't he get bored with that? Sai has been unconscious for weeks. That was commitment. I want to be impressed but I also want to make him apologize.'

She touched a pen to her lips as she leaned back to watch her most confusing child leave.

Sanbi heaved a sigh and rolled over. He didn't even pretend to be interested in the dilemma.

God. She leaned on her elbows a bit, reflecting about how sorry she felt for herself. She would never have imagined her life turning out this way. She was a single parent and manager of a large flock of murderous lunatics. No one else was going to help, so she had to raise all her illicitly relocated children by herself.

...Actually, fair enough.

'But no, Karin is above-board. Her village head knows she's here to spy on me. So I didn't do anything illegal there anyway.'

Sanbi slapped against her mind. “Please let me rest. Your justifications are giving me a headache.”

The moral highground was a lonely place. Shame that all the turtles were down in the lowland of sinners.

The hospital board came and went, although they had the newly appointed head doctor with them this time. Utakata stopped by to make sure she drank some water and hovered until she finished eating the apple he cut for her. Someone came to apprise her of the change in Sai's condition and confirmed that her genjutsu hadn't fried his brain, which was pretty good to know. She approved some serious painkillers for him and fought her way through the rest of the morning and tugged her hair unpinned as she and Gaara left for lunch. It fell over her shoulders with interesting pin crinkles and some humidity frizz. Aiko made a mental note to get a haircut, because she had uneven ends from some fight or something. She couldn't keep track anymore.

Sakurai kept remarkable composure when his working lunch ballooned into a social gathering. Yuusaku arrived next, looking neat in his new chuunin jacket. That netted him a look of approval and a few minutes of chatting until Karin strolled in and pulled out her chair with a screech.

“Good afternoon,” Karin said cheerfully. She was already flipping the menu open. “It's a good day for oden, don't you think?”

Gaara sat back and watched her as though he suspected she might choose to bite someone. He didn't seem afraid for himself or anything, just as though he was certain a sudden smiting was an easy possibility.

'I wonder if that healthy wariness has to do with Karin herself or if it's an impression that Temari left about older sisters.'

“No, not when we're going to be using a lot of chakra. Oden is relaxing at home on a cold day food. I want steak,” Aiko said. She signaled over the waitstaff. “Hello, thank you. Could I get this? The sweet potato side, and tea. Water as well.”

Karin gave her a sharp look, but amended her order to katsudon. She didn't say anything else until the man left to take their orders to the kitchen. “What's this about a lot of work?” She turned her face a little to the side and tilted it so that her chin was at a positively dangerous angle. “I have a full day of training planned.”

Gaara went so still that it was obvious he was working not to lean back.

'I guess Karin laid down the law. Maybe about the way he drips everywhere out of the shower? That would drive her mad. I should be home in the evening more to keep an eye on them.'

“Karin, this is Sakurai-san.” Aiko gestured and repeated the introduction the other way. “Karin is my relative, a current genin. You might have heard of her. And Sakurai-san is a member of my administration who oversees the city development and planning.”

Karin's eyes glazed over. “Wow. That must be a fun job.”

“I like it,” Sakurai said mildly. “It's very nice to meet you. Will you be working with us today on the park project?”

“She will,” Aiko said cheerfully. The look she got from her prickly daughter was pure poison. Karin was going to be vicious one day and it was absolutely precious to look at the seeds. “She's going to learn how to interpret the diagrams for the wooden parts from Tazuna before he leaves today, and then she will be in charge of supervising the two genin teams working with us today.”

It was kind of beautiful, Aiko reflected. Karin puffed up to argue until the part where it became she was being involved as management. Then her curiosity won over her pride and she leaned in to ask-

“What is this project about?” She adjusted her glasses, because Yuusaku was frowning at the way they reflected light into his eyes.

Aiko nodded to Gaara.

His voice started off a bit gravelly. “It is a community welfare project that will increase the attractive qualities of the city, as well as serve as intensive training in water and earth ninjutsu for the lower-ranked shinobi involved.”

Karin frowned, but she didn't seem sure of what to think. “I see.” She pursed her lips. “I can see why you'd want to clean the place up a bit. It is pretty bleak.”

'Fuck is she talking about? Is Otogakure lined with fucking daisies? Orochimaru got a lot of fountains?'

She could feel a scowl coming on.

Sakurai swooped into the conversation, even and reasonable and ever so deserving of a raise. “We have many projects planned that will increase the visual appeal of Kirigakure as well as raising the quality of life here. We believe that it is an important factor for morale and mental health.”

blood splattered on the cobblestone steady steps behind but she was racing ahead of Tsunade. Touch one, two, three. They fall, they fall, they fall-

Aiko shook off a memory and crossed her legs. Kirikgakure didn't always make a great first impression, it was true. “This is going to be a large park, the west side dominated by a lake with a running path surrounded by various scented and edible trees and plants,” she said. “The east part is planned to be recreational fields as well as some gardens for relaxation and consumption.”

“Huh.” Karin wrapped a fist around some of her hair and leaned forward. “That seems alright, then.” She sniffed.

“Yuusaku will be supervising the jutsu usage of his team and supporting an Academy class in clearing the riverbed.” Her student seemed pleased to know his role, smiling slightly. “Gaara and I will help around, and then work on filling flowerbeds with the plants we have so far.”

Sakurai was hard to read, but at the least he didn't protest about the staff she had chosen for the project. The odd group got through lunch alright. Afterward Aiko snagged a finger through Karin's collar and tugged her along to meet Tazuna. He and his men were already packed up and ready to go. The village head was clearly waiting. He impatiently walked to meet her, face verging on thunder and precious architectural plans held in the hand that wasn't a fist. Aiko smiled at him and waved to some of the men milling behind. One of them ducked his head away, but a couple of them nodded. Three of them appeared to be sleeping on their luggage.

'It is definitely time for them to go home for a break. It is probably a week or two past the time they should have gone home. I need to make sure they're adequately compensated. I can't afford them to have a negative preconception when we are remaking our image.'

The brusque old man opened the plans and started talking as soon as Karin was within earshot. “I'm not repeating any of this. The namby-pamby arches are going to be death from above if you forget about the support here, so don't. It needs to go in at this angle. Benches are less dangerous, worst you'll get is a sore ass if someone screws up.” His grouchiness levels went down slightly at that point.

Karin gave Aiko an incredulous look. She smiled placidly back.

Tazuna drew his posture up aggressively, earning Karin's attention back. “But don't screw up anyway. Look at this here- don't skip it, I know it looks ornamental and it's a pain in the ass but it'll keep the damn thing around til the wood rots.” He cleared his throat and put his free hand on his hip. “You got all that?”

“I do,” Karin replied primly. She took the plans in a quick movement that Tazuna clearly didn't register until she was holding them behind her back. “I'll follow the instructions precisely. Is that all?”

Tazuna blinked at his empty hand. Then then veteran construction worker seemed to really look at Karin for the first time, with her sharp eyes, confident posture, and neatly tailored jacket. He sighed. “I liked those Konoha ninja I had around for a while, but I gotta say they make 'em a bit smarter in Kirigakure, don't they?” Aiko covered a snort as Tazuna shook his head. “You're a young lady like Hikari-chan, aren't you?”

'Ah, right. She has no idea that he thinks that's my name.'

Karin followed his nod to Aiko with a carefully neutral expression and no comment.

“She is,” Aiko said. She looked at her clever little cousin and felt proud. She swayed just that little bit closer to give Karin a companionable bump with her hip. “She's spying on us for a foreign country, but I like her just the same. I was sneaky when I was a teenager, too. It's a good phase.”

“What.” Karin's lips didn't entirely close. She took just one step back, turning so that her body was facing Aiko. She looked remarkably like she had been hit in the face with a squid. One hand slowly crept up toward her chest and stopped, unsure of what she should be doing. Panic? Become defensive? Deny it? Run away?

Sanbi started laughing. “Your youngling-” he cut himself off with a chuckle. “Her face. Ah, I think she understands my suffering.”

'It's good for a girl to be knocked off her high horse every once in a while,' Aiko thought unrepentantly. 'Tsunade did that kind of thing to me, and look at how I turned out.'

“Moral and considerate?”

'Nah. Sturdy.'

“Could do worse,” Tazuna agreed mildly. “She does remind me of you at that age.”

Aww. He was so dadly. Aiko tried not to let her expression soften as much as it wanted to. He had actually met her when she was not much younger than Karin. Not this specific Tazuna but hey, details. Aiko warmed at the implied compliment anyway.

“Yes, I hope she also ends up deposing someone to rule her own country when she grows up.” Aiko put a hand to her cheek and smiled warmly at her cousin.

She gave a quick check over, trying to read the younger girl's thoughts from her face and body. Karin's heels were thoroughly on the ground, her body language tense, her chest facing Aiko dead-on. A little defensive, but… Karin had correctly read the air and skipped right over the fear reaction for confusion, which meant anger was coming any time now. “We Uzumaki are born to be queens.”

Tazuna snorted. “Are we ready to go, your highness?” He made some fluttery motion that was probably not respectful enough for her station and dignity.

“Hold up.” Karin made a sharp hand motion and scowled. “Wait, what? You know that I'm a spy.” Karin crossed her arms and widened her legs. She was smart enough not to try denying it. She was brazen enough that the statement came out as an accusation. “What are you thinking?”

Tazuna sighed and turned around to rejoin his workers.

“Of course I know,” Aiko said mildly. She tilted her head down at her cousin, because come on. It had been very silly for Karin to think otherwise. “But I'm not worried. You don't know anything that could damage me, you haven't yet been contacted, and I'm going to have to kill Orochimaru-san anyway.”

Fury sparked in those red eyes. “Like you could,” Karin spat. She leaned into Aiko's personal space. “Orochimaru-sama is incredibly powerful.”

“He is,” Aiko agreed. “He's certainly one of the best shinobi in the world, and a genius. I would not feel eager to face him alone.” It wasn't difficult to keep her tone and body language neutral, because Karin just did not intimidate her at all. “But I'm strong as well, and I am working with two other nations to get back something that he stole.  This is the way the shinobi world works- your personal strength is not always enough. A shinobi who lives without powerful allies is always at risk.” She put her hair back up with the ponytail on her wrist. It was time to get back to work.

“Hm.” Karin just watched Aiko adjust her hair, angry but silent. The vertical lines pressed between her eyebrows were proof enough that she was thinking over every possible angle. “You're very certain.”

Aiko nodded at the point, because of course she couldn't absolutely know. “We will probably kill him,” she amended. “If Orochimaru-san kills me, of course you would be wise to return to Oto. But if Orochimaru-san dies, I hope that you will consider staying with me. Family is important.” She smiled.

Karin was silent and impassive.

'Look at that. Two minutes after having her cover blown by a foreign kage, and she isn't panicking or putting herself at risk.' Aiko tried not to be too visibly proud. 'I told you that she was a clever girl. She has all the self-preservation instincts that skipped over the rest of our family. She'll outlive us all.'

“I did not contest her wit,” Sanbi said. He was clearly having a good time. She got the sense that he was leaning forward to catch every word that was said. “Now say something disinterested and walk away. That will be satisfying.”

'You're my best friend. Of course I'll be dramatic.'

Her voice came out serene. Aiko was hyper-aware of how having her hair up made her neck look long and dignified, her chin tilted at just the right angle to look at Karin through her lashes. “In any case, your outside loyalties are why you cannot be promoted or given much responsibility at this time. When and if you reconsider, you may be elevated. You may follow Yuusaku now.”

She nodded to the figure waiting not too far off, because keeping an eye on Karin was part of his job. Then she made eye contact with Tazuna and held up a hand to indicate she was ready to go.

Her sweet baby cousin stiffened at the dismissal. Karin looked like an offended Pomeranian, with her round eyes and wrinkled nose. If she'd had fur, it would be standing straight up. “Ugh.” Karin gave her a look somewhere between confusion and disgust.

Aiko gave a little wave and sauntered away.

“Ah, satisfying. That was an interesting approach,” Sanbi said. “Why do you not employ secrecy?” He sounded curious, not judgmental.

'Karin is direct, and it's important for her to respect the people she works for. She would never respect me if she thought that she was more clever than I am,' Aiko responded absently. She gave a little stretch before holding an arm out to Tazuna. 'If I let her view me as a mark, she won't want to stay here. I'm letting her know that she has actual options. If I just killed Orochimaru, she might stay here, but she would have the baggage of trying to conceal her original reasons for coming and fear of repercussions. I'm removing that consideration.'

“Seems like a sweet kid,” Tazuna said absently. He hefted his knapsack and kept his left hand on the straps. His right reached out to shake her hand, which had not been the plan but whatever.

“That's true,” Aiko agreed instantly. She grabbed the closest construction worker by the shoulder and took them to Tazuna's house. “I love her.” She let go of those two, flickered back to Kirigakure, and motioned over two more men.

But it was understandable that other people might not realize how sweet Karin was off-hand…. Aiko took a moment to ruminate on how ridiculous the first group of young shinobi Tazuna met had been. She dropped two construction workers at Tazuna's house. She went back to Kirigakure and motioned over two more people. Team 7 had set a false standard for young shinobi eccentricity. She thought it over while she efficiently transported the entire crew back home.

It was better not to correct those misconceptions, she decided.

She stood around and smiled and said the right things when Tazuna gave a little post-trip speech to his workers and their gathered families. He was supposed to wait to announce it, but he launched right from talking about how much money they had made to how Hikari and her little friends were going to revitalize their village by building things. For a group of about 30 people, they made an impressive ruckus when Tazuna started talking about how a girl from their village was the Mizukage. Wives, children, and random assorted relatives gave Tazuna delightfully baffled expressions at that. Tazuna and his men looked at her cheerfully.

There was a visible ripple of confusion from the villagers who had not spent two months in Kirigakure. They looked Aiko. She looked at them. She clasped her hands in front of her hips and gave a pleasant little nod in response to all the scrutiny.

Aiko smiled, but she felt tension run through her body. She didn't want to use genjutsu on any noncombatants if she could help it. She was not good at that. Sai still had a heaache. She looked over the crowd faces, cataloging their thoughts and reactions. Would anyone refute it?

“Wow,” someone said. And then the crowd erupted into excited conversation. A middle-aged woman gave Aiko an interested look and leaned to ask her husband something. He shrugged in response, showing his palms and a cheerful flash of teeth. Similar interactions were happening all around.

She tried not to laugh. 'It almost looks like none of them remember me,' she told Sanbi. 'How odd.'

“They take him at his word,” Sanbi noted. “This is unreasonable.”

'It makes some sense,' Aiko disagreed. 'Most people don't like to publicly tell their leader that he's wrong. And it's in their best interest to believe it- it's flattering for them. They'll probably spend the next couple of days deciding that they remember me just a little bit, especially as the people I put under genjutsu months ago chime in with unremarkable stories about my mother coming into town occasionally.'

The day dragged on. She returned to Kirigakure and hollowed out a lake. She and Gaara moved the leftover soil to the planting beds that Yuusaku had managed to direct into being so far. He gave her a tortured look over the heads of shrieking, muddy Academy children who were nominally helping. Keisuke was bent over picking a splinter out of someone's thumb while an Academy teacher directed the more obedient children in laying boards.

Aiko nodded at Yuusaku and gave a stretch. She swiveled her head over to check that Karin hadn't killed any genin yet. Everyone looked quite alive. Good, good.

She brushed her hands off and took Gaara to pick up the plants she had prepaid for. The salesman gave her a look of polite confusion that became stronger every time she carried potted plants behind the building, set them in Kirigakure, and hiraishin'd back for another peach tree. He gave his watch increasingly concerned looks and left at one point to splash water on his face.

“Will he ask?” Gaara said in an undertone.

Aiko shrugged. She bent down to deposit a particularly large plum tree with the small forest they were settling a few hundred feet from where Karin barked orders. “If you thought some two strangers were buying your whole stock and putting it in your alley, would you want to say something?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” She cast him a curious look. “We are different people. I would just let that go. Sounds like none of my business.” They twined arms, crossed continent, and then dropped their contact to briskly walk into the greenhouse again.

The elderly man behind the till gave them a distressed look and pretended to be reading a newspaper. Aiko put a plum tree on one hip and a rosebush on the other, held the door open with her foot, and walked out the door and just around the corner. Gaara was carrying four plants with no sign of strain or wobbling, which was unbelievable until she looked close enough to see that they were actually hovering in place. A pot of lavender bumped cheerfully against his heel where it couldn't be seen from behind the counter. She suppressed a smile as she led them into the alley. As soon as they were out of easy sight Gaara obligingly touched his elbow to hers and then they were in Kiri. They set down plants. They returned. The old man took a step back from the window and started talking under his breath.

“Aiko-sama.” Gaara sounded thoughtful. She glanced down at him. “I will arrange the transport for the second shipment of seedlings.”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like. One less errand for me.”

“You will transport me,” Gaara disagreed. “And attempt to have a pleasant conversation with the floral staff while Yuusaku-san and I put plants into a wagon. Then the wagon will be pushed out of town. At that time, I will ask you to use your transportation technique.”

Aiko sighed and wiped some dirt off her shirt. “Your way sounds fine too.”

“Mizukage-sama.” Mei casually surveyed the work happening around, eyes lingering on the line of genin doing their best to fill the new lake. It was going slowly, but, uh, they were genin.

“Mei,” Aiko greeted. She kicked a pot over a few centimeters. “It's lovely to see you. Did you have a report from Ao-san?”

“Yes.” Mei's nose wrinkled. “We will have a visitor from Konohagakure in two days.”

She eyed her subordinate. “Is it Jiraiya?”

Mei's jaw was tight. “It is.”

Aiko sighed, and it was like all her energy left in that breath. Great. Jiraiya. He was such a great houseguest. “I'll greet him personally. Anything else?”

“Sunagakure has sent word ahead that we may expect them at the outer border tomorrow.” Mei cast a lazy stare on Gaara. “We will host a three-man team.”

“Ugh.” Aiko scrubbed at her face. “We'll have to work to keep Jiraiya ignorant, he's such a goddamn snoop. I'll babysit him. In that case, I need to run an errand out tonight. I don't want to leave Kirigakure while he's here unless I can help it.” She yawned, feeling a wave of exhaustion pressing down while the sunlight faded. “Thank you for the information. Oh- Raidou. Have him in my office at 9pm. I'll have a talk with him.”

“As you wish.” Mei nodded and turned away. “Mizukage-sama.”

Aiko watched her go and admired the way all that red hair moved in the wind. “Gaara.”

Her apprentice stopped and gave her an expectant look. The line of potted plants hovering en-route up the hill stopped and bobbed in place.

She reached out and ruffled his hair. “I'm never going to be as impressive-looking as Mei is, am I? She looks so cool. All the time.”

Gaara sighed.

[jraywelch]

The life and death of Thomas Jefferson, the cat

We found out on a group text that our cat was dying.

I suspect for families that genuinely loved their pets these moments would be grounds for a phone call or even a video conference that would involve the immediate family attentively watching the last breaths of their beloved friend. There could also be a kitschy burial ceremony with a brief, but genuine program with a eulogy and shared memories. The truly devoted might even erect some kind of memorial for their pet, or at least hang a picture.

In the case of one Thomas Jefferson Welch, TJ for short, there was no such pageantry. I'm still not entirely sure what happened to his remains.

My nonchalant approach to his departure to the big litter box in the sky is probably being passed off as cruelty, and that might be fair. I felt stronger emotions for the animated pups in Isle of Dogs than I did for the cat that inhabited the Welch home for 18 years. His presence alone made him a part of the family but before you judge me for being heartless (as highly accurate a claim that it may be) please try to understand the true nature of TJ.

***

At the end of every episode of The Price is Right, Bob Barker (and now Drew Carey) would conclude by saying, "help control the pet population by getting your pets spaded or neutered." I like to theorize that Mr Barker had a vision in which he saw our cat roaming the earth and thought, "This cat is bad news. More of him would be a terrible idea."

To put it lightly TJ very well could have been the devil himself, capable of turning the hearts of even the most ardent feline lovers.

His journey with our family began on the 4th of July, 1999 when my mother brought him home. She went to the grocery store and saw a woman giving away kittens and couldn't resist. This might be commonplace in some families but the Welch household had never been a home to any pets whatsoever. The closest we ever came was one year when my parents decided to tell us they were going to get us a dog by leaving bowl with some dog food in it under the Christmas tree. I don't know if my dad stepped in some dog feces or what changed their minds but they backed out and we only found out about the foiled plan five years later we found the bowl and unopened can of Purina buried somewhere in the basement.

The fact TJ came to us free of charge by way of a person we didn't know outside a grocery store called King Soopers was quite ominous. We certainly got what we paid for.

Those first few months with TJ were such a blur not because they went by so fast but rather the fact that once he grew in size all of those pleasant memories were replaced by nightmares. He was a gentle creature at first but once he discovered his sharp teeth and claws it was a different story. He became a ferocious creature who would prey on anyone who would walk through the front door. And I'm not just talking about a few harmless scratches here and there. TJ would pounce with purpose, that being to inflict a maximum amount of pain on his victim. Or so I assume.

At first we all through it was bare legs that set him off but once we all started wearing pants around the house TJ's clawing and biting would continue and eventually spread to arms, and in the case of small children, faces. If you don't believe me you go back through family photos you'll see pictures of my youngest sister Hannah with scars on her face and arms. Or you can ask any child under the age of six that ever visited our house. No matter how many times we would tell them, "THE KITTY KAT IS NOT YOUR FRIEND" they would immediately run over to try and pet his tail, which was reciprocated with a claw to the face.

Instead of doing the logical thing and getting his claws removed (my kind mother thought it would be too cruel) we decided to fight fire with fire. The only thing that TJ hated more than our presence was being sprayed with a water bottle, one of which was placed in just about every room of the house. A common scene would be the family sitting around the table eating dinner and my father holding his fork in one hand and a water bottle in the other, manning his post and ready to gun down the enemy combatant at a moments notice.

What’s worse is we never knew when to expect an attack. One second he would be completely docile and then at the flip of a switch he would set out on his warpath. Not that there is anything funny about pet-on-owner violence but it was rather humorous to be in a different part of the house when TJ would strike. First we would hear the loud screams, the commotion of a few others leaping to grab a spray bottle and then TJ bolting to a safe place. All of this was followed by more yelling, crying and my dad saying, “ahh that stupid cat.”

And it wasn't just the pain that TJ inflicted that made him a bozo. There was long list of strange habits including (but not limited too) jumping on top of cars that would pull into our driveway or only drinking water that came out of the kitchen faucet. There was the normal cat stuff, like sitting on the newspaper whenever someone was trying to read it but then there was the pooping everywhere but his litter box and the full on sprinting throughout the entire house for no reason whatsoever.

His true wildcat personality drove everyone bonkers but it played well in other areas. Not once did we ever find a live mouse inside or around our house. He did bring a few dead ones inside to show off his handiwork, making sure we knew of his worth. My favorite TJ moment was when I witnessed a standoff that he had with three deer who encroached on our front yard in New Jersey. Instead of retreating inside TJ held his ground against the three deer, who were on their way to feast on the freshly planted shrubs. After a few minutes of posturing, TJ jumped up and clawed one of the deer in the face, sending the three of them into the next yard. 

For about 12 years it was like this, pure mayhem inside and outside of the house, until one day things changed. Much like Saul on the road to Damascus, TJ was transformed from his life of sin and debauchery. His heart was miraculously softened not by way of a higher power but rather thanks to Prozac. Yes, you read that correctly. My cat was tamed by an antidepressant that is routinely prescribed to pets. (Routinely might be a stretch as I have no idea if this is a normal case or if our vet was so vexed for a solution to TJ's crazy that he decided that desperate times called for desperate measures.)

I wasn't living at home when TJ first started taking his new medication but apparently the first doses put him into some kind of inebriated trance that wouldn't allow him to take more than 37 steps a day. He went from leaping over six foot fences to barely being able to walk between the litter box and his food dish. They eventually figured out the correct dosage but once he we was medicated he didn't go back to his wild ways.

For the last few years of his life he was finally the nice cat that everyone could enjoy, which is a hard thing for me to understand. To me he was a wild beast and then all of the sudden TJ became this beloved creature that even some of my other family members began to forgive and embrace. My niece and nephew love TJ (probably more than they love me) and it takes a herculean effort to restrain myself from yelling, "IF YOU ONLY KNEW HOW MUCH HE HURT ME. HOW MUCH HE HURT ALL OF US."

Maybe my opinion of our feline frienemy will probably be forever skewed by the fact that I am allergic to cats and everyone just pretended that this was a normal thing. When a family discovers that their kid has a nut allergy do they plant a couple of walnut trees in the back yard? For years I've endured itchy eyes, sneezing and difficulty breathing just so he could stick around. Every Christmas I would make a plea for his exile so I could enjoy a holiday break free of Benadryl drowsiness or an endless runny nose but no, the cat had to stay. Until now.

His antics aside, TJ saw our family through what was the largest period of transition as we moved across the country and back again with many changes in between. As each of the kids left the house for college he was there for my parents, not so much to be a warm cuddly friend but someone to keep them on their toes.

TJ made life difficult but maybe in the end he was just preparing us for the challenges that would come our way. Who knows if any of us could have survived disappointment or heartbreak if we were not first betrayed by the only pet we ever had. We usually despised him and in doing so we were united in our disdain, a special bond that can last a lifetime.

So thank you TJ. Thank you for being the cause of evil that unified our family, even if it was you that we were united in fighting against. 

And best of luck on the other side because I sure as heck won't vouch for you.