#influenced their stories. i mean these two are relatively new but i SWEAR they are considered vessels in a much different way that the lamb

[blessedbucky]

we tried the world, good god, it wasn't for us! (part 5.2)

pairing: autistic!satoru x suguru x autistic!reader

word count: 10.4k (relatively mild if i do say so myself)

summary: "suguru won't hurt me."

tags: autistic!reader, autistic!satoru, canon-typical violence, the blood and gore associated with jjk, introducing the shitty and creepy zen'in clan, it's ANGST, like hurt/no comfort level here

beautiful people who asked to be tagged 💕: @ichikanu, @iceheartsice, @anders-is-being-a-simp-again, @lexlibrary

author note: PREMATURE DEATH ARC BABY, this is gonna fucking HURT. also i've got a cute lil' banner that i made that i'm trying to use to create a story masterpost but old lady is having issues formatting on shitty tumblr. stay tuned for new looks hopefully.

chapter links: 1, 2, 3, 4.1, 4.2, 5.1, AO3

[YEAR THREE]

[PART TWO]

“You look tired, Senpai.”

The voice that breaks the silence of dawn is such a shock that the speed in which you snap your head up and to the side puts a crick in your neck. “Yu?” You subtly clutch at your neck, digging your fingers into the sore spot but feigning rubbing it as to not insult him because you expected Kento to be here, not him. “What has you up so early? You don’t train until a little later, don’t you?”

He blinks owlishly. “You really pay attention to the small things, it’s amazing.”

“Oh. Just like drawing and cursed spirits are my thing, I know martial arts are yours. You’re my friend and I try to remember the things they love.”

Yu perks up, grinning brightly. The morning light is still soft, but you could use your sunglasses right about now when it comes to Yu’s thousand-watt smile. “We’re friends, Senpai?”

“I’d like to think so. You let me use your given name.” You hesitate, suddenly struck by self-consciousness. “Am I wrong?”

“No! I mean, if you consider me a friend then I consider you one, too! I just didn’t want to assume. Who doesn’t dream of being friends with their cool upperclassmen?”

You chuckle softly. “Isn’t Suguru the cool one?”

“You’re cool, too!” You raise a skeptical brow. He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “Okay, Geto is cooler, but you’re the nicest! Don’t tell Ieiri, though, please!” You won’t betray your junior like that, but Shoko definitely would probably appreciate that assessment. “I’d love to be casual enough with everyone to be on given name basis.”

“You definitely could. Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko don’t care about that kind of thing. If they were easily offended, they wouldn’t stick around people as rude as Satoru and I are,” you explain with a little smile.

He drops down next to you on the bench, looking thoughtful. “Maybe when Nanamin and I graduate, I’ll feel comfortable enough to be that familiar with them.” He sighs too loudly to not be dramatic. “I was worried about taking over for Nanamin on this because I know they can look down on people with no sorcery in their family, but I don’t know why I was. I swear that your power works on humans, too. You’re so calming, y’know?”

It was meant to be a joke, you know, but there’s still a brief moment of pure panic. You haven’t been doing that, have you? It’s a question you ask yourself before quickly answering with a resolute no. Definitely not. Just trying to sense someone’s emotions, as unintentional as it was with Satoru, had you struggling. Controlling someone against their will had you on the verge of death with a brain bleed. You’re terrified by how fast your technique is evolving, yes, but it’s not there. Nowhere near there. You doubt it will ever be to the point where you’re passively influencing people.

“I just want to do my best to help,” you confess. Even if it feels like you’re not doing much of that these days.

“So do I!” Yu declares so enthusiastically and loudly that it echoes. He winces at his own volume and flushes. “Sorry,” he quickly apologizes, but you wave it off. You’re used to loud voices because of Satoru. “But y’know, you ignored me when I said that you look really tired.”

Well, you didn’t mean to, but you’re uncomfortable that he’s bringing it back up. “Don’t worry about me. I haven’t been sleeping the greatest, but I’ll be fine.”

“Hmm, are you sure about that?” Suddenly, he becomes uncharacteristically serious. “I know this is hard work. We see the worst of the world. You and me, we understand that our friends can get lost in all that darkness, so we try to stay bright for them. But we can’t do that if we don’t take care of ourselves.” He smiles, then. Softly and fondly. “My mom understood that when I said I wanted to enroll in school here. She wants to hear about my day, no matter how bad what I see is. She wants to help me carry the burden.”

“It’s hard to believe there are non-sorcerer parents who believe in cursed spirits,” you mumble more to yourself than him. “You have an amazing mother, Yu. I’m jealous.”

He preens, as he should. “My dad listens, too!” He blinks, laughs nervously, and then tries to humble himself quickly after. “It took them a while to accept it, though. But when both your children can see these invisible things, it becomes a little harder to deny. I think they still were kinda in denial until Sensei came and confirmed it all.”

“Still…the fact that they’re willing to hear the details…”

“My mom told me that she tells herself that it’s like I’m going to school to become a medical examiner. Eh, my dad was a real delinquent in high school before he got his act together. He was in a gang. It’s not as bad as what I see, but he can handle the nastier things that I can’t hold in anymore.”

As the manager pulls up to the curb, here to pick you both up for the trip to the Zen’in compound, Yu passes you one of the three onigiri he brought with him. He stands up, interrupting your incoming protest, and grins down at you. “Don’t worry! I know you forget to eat in the mornings a lot, so I made an extra! Just like I know you’re tired but won’t lean on my shoulder unless I say it’s okay!”

One day, you hope that you can meet Yu’s parents, only to tell them how great a job they did in raising a son.

As you’ve come to learn about these long-established clans, they meet you with open hostility. To them, you are not only an outsider, but an extension of headquarters’ will. Despite the fact that there is a Kamo and Zen’in on the council, they are bound by Tengen’s authority. Gakuganji confirmed, after reprimanding you on your manners with the Kamo, that Tengen was the one who wanted to test your abilities. At some point, when you’re done with the Zen’in, he’ll want to meet with you. It’s a terrifying prospect.

Anyway, the leader of the Zen’in clan is not the higher-up that you’d been speaking with. The man that briefly shows his face to you and Yu is graying, has an insanely weirdly styled mustache, and holds a gourd while stinking of alcohol. He passes out as soon as he sprawls out across from you two. Yu is the one to go try and find someone to talk to since the leader—Naobito, the manager told you—is snoring away.

Two people soon walk into the room, followed by Yu. You’ve never seen Yu have to force a smile before, but there’s a first time for everything. You’ve always been under the belief that Yu is an excellent judge of character, so when he finds it hard to like someone, your hackles are immediately raised. Then again, the horror stories that you’ve heard about this clan, you didn’t really need Yu’s opinion, anyway.

A middle-aged man briefly glances at Naobito with a disgusted curl of the lip before turning his terrifying gaze on you. The sclera of his eyes is pitch black. You refuse to even try to make eye contact. They’d probably appreciate that, anyway, since they think a woman’s place is beneath a man. The other person with him is someone that’s actually close to your age. His hair is dyed blonde at the top of his head while his roots are a dark, dark green.

“I am Zen’in Ogi, younger brother of Naobito,” the older man introduces with no small amount of loathing. “Naoya—”

The one that’s your age—Naoya—hasn’t stopped moving toward you. When he’s directly in front of you, he tilts his head to the side, scrutinizing you. “You should smile more.”

You tilt to the side, focusing on Ogi. “Thank you for hosting us.”

“Oi.” Naoya nudges you with his tabi. It takes everything in you not to lash out or flinch away. You know a bully when you see one and they revel in seeing that their antics are affecting their target. “I’m next in line for head of the clan, y’know. You should be talking to me about this stuff.”

“You’re not of age yet.” You are a child, you’re silently saying. This is an assumption, of course, but Satoru did mention there being someone in the Zen’in clan that bothers him at the annual Big Three meetup. It’s supposedly to keep the peace, but it’s just a way to show off the next generation’s strength, Satoru says. A pissing contest. “You’re more than welcome to sit and listen as I speak with Mister Ogi.”

“You don’t need to be such a bitch,” Naoya scolds haughtily. “Especially when I’ll be the one escorting you around.”

You haven’t looked away from Ogi. You watch his cheek twitch, as if he’s holding back from laughing. Clan dynamics are just so…odd. To enjoy the embarrassment of another simply because you’re not next in line. Maybe you should’ve simply smiled and played along because Ogi will probably stick Naoya with you to keep up the flustering of his nephew.

Trying to dodge a day with this spoiled brat, you politely inform Ogi, “I would be more than happy to wait if you’re both too busy.”

“Seeing as Naobito is…indisposed—” is that what they’re calling being blackout drunk? “We have nothing pressing anymore, so Naoya can see to you. It would do him good to revisit our cursed object collection seeing as it’ll be his to worry about when he’s clan head.” Ogi pulls something out of his yukata. A key. “Naoya, keep them away from the Disciplinary Pit. You’re responsible for their safety. We can’t have any incidents potentially impacting our seat at headquarters.”

Naoya scoffs unhappily.

It might be the only time that you’ll ever agree with this brat.

Zen’in Naoya is insistent on pestering you.

To your great misfortune, no one educated Naoya on the purpose of your visit. So, he uses that as an opening to throw question after question at you while peppering in his annoying commentary. As much as you care for Yu, if he asks to go to lunch after this, you might actually cry. You’ve been here a little over an hour and have a headache. You’re teetering on the verge of losing your temper and getting yourself in trouble.

“Why are a couple of students here, anyway?”

“To examine the seals of your cursed objects and strengthen them if they’re too weak.”

“What? Are you training to be one of those managers or whatever?” Naoya laughs obnoxiously. “Gross.”

“I’m a sorcerer,” you correct.

“One of the strongest at school!” Yu adds on your behalf.

Naoya, in front of you both as he leads you across the compound, glances over his shoulder to eye you skeptically. If their clan looks down so harshly on women, it wouldn’t be that far a stretch to assume that he doesn’t think your capable of strength. “What kind of technique do you have?”

“Pacification and control, to an extent,” you answer.

He raises a brow. “Like that Geto guy that got assigned Special Grade with Gojo?”

The mention of Satoru and Suguru makes you bristle, of course. It’s a protective instinct, you guess. “No. I can hide myself from cursed spirits. I keep them calm. If they’re weak enough, I can suggest things to them.” Before he can ask, you go ahead and answer what you expect his next question will be. “Headquarters considers me an expert on cursed spirits. They thought it would be beneficial for me to also learn about seals. I’m here on their orders.”

“Sounds like you’re a knockoff of that Geto kid, then.”

The jab has you gritting your teeth.

You have to admit, that’s a new insult. People have accused you of holding him back, being an annoying burr in his side that just won’t leave. No one has ever said that you’re a weaker version of him, though. You’re not sure why it’s slowly starting to get under your skin. Maybe it’s an insult to your usefulness—something that you’re already incredibly insecure about. And you hate that you’re genuinely thinking about this now.

“Are we almost there?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Naoya is, blessedly, silent for the rest of the trek. You reach the end of the dark staircase that you assumed was to take you underground. It’s a large stone chamber with tile flooring. As soon as you step fully into the room, a massive wave of cursed energy washes over you. Yu freezes, breath hitching, eyes widening. It’s not that intimidating, is it? There’s quite the number of spirits somewhere down here, yes, but they’re all Grade 2 or lower.

You’re honestly more irritated than anything by the sheer arrogance and stupidity of this clan. “You have cursed objects…near all these cursed spirits?” The chamber diverges. Ahead, there is a giant room that has ropes across the opening. Ropes, you note, that have weak seals attached to them.

Naoya waves you off. “They won’t break through that seal.”

“Having cursed objects so close only makes them more agitated,” you educate, though you know that he’s probably already aware of that fact. “The more agitated they are, the more they batter against that barrier and weaken it. Why do you even have spirits on your compound?”

He sticks a finger in his ear, as if your nagging is nothing but an itch in his ear. “Didn’t you hear my uncle? It’s a pit for training and discipline. We like agitating them, obviously. That makes the pit more effective.”

The Kamo and Gojo had their own collection of spirits. Most people from the clans aren’t like Satoru. Homeschooling in Japan isn’t allowed until high school, so there’s a special private school that’s in the know of jujutsu and works with the headquarters and the government. That school in Kyoto is where most children of the clans go until high school where they head back to their clans to be trained intensely.

Still, the spirits that the Kamo and Gojo had weren’t nearly as strong. Satoru said that the people in his clan go out in the field to find the strong spirits because they understand that there are vulnerable people on their compounds. How they feel about those vulnerable people might horrify you, but they aren’t actively putting the lives of everyone in their compounds in danger every single second like the Zen’in clan is.

What the hell is wrong with these people?

“I’ll be reinforcing those seals, too,” you force out through gritted teeth.

Naoya simply shrugs before heading in the opposite direction of the pit where there’s a hall. At the end of it is a massive door, a bunch of seals lining the door that’s locked with a basic chain and padlock. Is jujutsu society built on nothing but a crumbling infrastructure? Are they all so arrogant and complacent that they assume it’ll all be fine until it’s just not anymore? Then again, why wouldn’t they be when they have bodies to throw at their problems?

What are you even doing here anymore?

Increasingly more and more, you wonder what would’ve happened to you if you stayed behind in the village. Who knows how long you’d be under the thumb of your overprotective yet distant mother and bitter father. You’d fumble your way through some job in the town or a nearby one, too poor for college and probably getting talked out of it by your mother, anyway. Which would be a better life? It seems like both paths leads to you being a simple cog in a broken machine.

“Here, Senpai,” Yu whispers as he passes you the cage with the fly heads. “I think it might be better for me to wait outside.”

“No.” You glare at Naoya. “It’s safer to be in here.”

Naoya rolls his eyes. “Calm down. It’s not that big a deal. Besides, if you were a competent sorcerer, you could easily handle all those spirits by yourself.”

“Would you like to keep watch, then?”

He sniffs. “No thanks. I want to see what you can do.”

“I work better in silence.”

Naoya smiles beatifically. “I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

Seeing as this is his home, there’s nothing you can do about his presence. This is seriously throwing off the routine you’ve created with this assignment which only aggravates you further. But you move your focus to watching the fly heads, gauging their reactions as you walk amongst the shelves, holding the cage to each object. You’re even irritated with the fly heads, impatient at their slow reaction times when you already know which seals are weakest.

Naoya, shockingly, is relatively quiet. But, because he’s insistent on being a pest, he hangs over your shoulder. Yu is a good friend, knowing how you work, and stands back by the door. There aren’t many objects that require a fresh seal—less than the Kamo and Gojo which is as much credit as you’ll give this clan. If you had to guess as to why that is, they have more people in their clan so there are more people to assign this task. After all, this is a super traditional clan that believes in…sowing their oats as much as humanly possible.

The biggest task today will be that rope along the pit. If you’re honest, you want to be stubborn and ignore it. You don’t want to fuel this barbaric practice. If you don’t, though, the seal will continue to degrade. Your pettiness could cost many lives if these spirits ever escaped. You could leave it to the clan. Write a scathing review of what you saw. You doubt the higher-ups will do much about it, though. The Zen’in would probably call it an exercise and just let it break.

“Mind if I give you a piece of advice?” Naoya drawls as you’re scribbling some notes for your final report to hand in to the higher-ups. You ignore him because he’ll give you his advice whether you want it or not. Some people just love the sound of their own voice. “If you want a man, you need to smile more.” You pointedly deepen your frown. Yu hides his laugh behind a cough. Naoya flushes in chagrin. “What’s your problem with me, huh? I’m trying to give you advice.”

“Marriage is not a priority for me. I’m too young for that.”

“Oh, c’mon. Marriage is the only thing normal girls are thinking about for all their lives.”

“Yes, because sorcerers are such normal people.” You can’t help the sarcasm now. Your patience has finally been pushed to the limit. “So, again, that is not a priority for me right now or in the foreseeable future.”

He hums. “Maybe you should think harder about it. You never know when an offer for marriage might come your way. You’re sort of plain, sure, and you definitely have no pedigree. Still, you have a decent ability. Like I said, Geto Suguru knockoff. Our clan is always looking for fresh talent to be passed along to the next generation when it comes to women.”

The thought of marrying into this clan makes you gag. You do it right in front of Naoya’s face, unable to control yourself, and he sputters in outrage. Yu immediately leaps into action, putting himself between you and Naoya.

With his back to you, he faces Naoya with squared shoulders and a voice that’s low and dangerous. “Stop criticizing my senpai.”

Naoya’s feet spread slightly, as if preparing to take a battle stance. “Oh? What are you gonna do about it, peasant?” Peasant? A lame insult. Are you in the Heian era or what? “You look like you’ve got nothing going on in that head of yours, so let me lay it out for you and your senpai in simple terms. It’s the highest honor to even be a consideration in the running of the next Zen’in clan head’s wife.”

Him? Naoya was suggesting a proposal from him? Oh, you feel nauseous. You feel so disturbed that the fly heads fluttering around in the cage come to a dead stop and watch you intently, having been unintentionally put under your influence. Right. So, you should calm down. Seems like an enormous task at the moment. Just a little longer, you desperately remind yourself. You’ll say your piece to Naoya and move on.

You gently nudge Yu out of the way so that Naoya can see the radiance and superiority in your smile. Suguru would be proud if he saw it. “I was under the impression that the jujutsu world prized strength above all else. Was that wrong?” You tilt your head, mocking in your curiosity. “There would be more honor in being Gojo Satoru’s whore than there would ever be in becoming the wife of a Zen’in.”

It has the desired effect. You imagine that heads and heirs of the Kamo and Zen’in clans have quite the complex when it comes to Satoru who, for all intents and purposes, carries the Gojo clan on his back. One could argue the entire jujutsu world, but that’s a conversation for another time.

Naoya, with his face red and twisted into an ugly snarl and ears practically blowing steam, is interrupted before he can start throwing a temper tantrum.

A scream.

No, two of them.

Both you and Yu are on the move immediately, leaving behind Naoya’s shouted, “Oi!”

There are children down here. Two little girls from the sound of it. You can hear them begging for their father. Even worse, they must be non-sorcerer children because you only feel the muted presence of all those cursed spirits in the pit, Yu, Naoya, and someone else. It’s that man, Ogi. Thank goodness that someone has a heart or some sense, at least. He must be coming to get the children that ran down here. You’ll still rush to help, of course. You can calm the spirits down—

As you break away from the hallway, the horror of what you see sends you to a screeching halt. Yu gasps, visibly shaken and outraged at the same time. Because, ahead of you, is Ogi, yes. But he is not helping the two little girls who slipped down here, no, no. He has each one tucked under his arm, overpowering the twin girls’ frantic struggles to get away from the fucking pit with cursed spirits. They’re screaming and begging for their father…to stop from doing what he’s about to do.

“Stop!” Yu screeches, angrier than you have ever seen him before. Then, ruder than you’ve ever heard him be, he goes on to ask, “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you senile geezer?!”

Ogi doesn’t hesitate. Not even a bit. As soon as he’s at the top of the staircase that leads down to the pit, he roughly tosses both the twins down it, right into the belly of the beast. You move, as deadly serious at the older man, dead set on getting those little girls out of there. Ogi turns to face you, hand reaching for the handle of his katana.

“Stand down,” he barks. “These are my children, and I’ll punish them as I see fit.” He actually takes a stance. Prepared to cut you and Yu down to continue this cruel abuse disguised as parenting. “Strangers will not be allowed to interfere in clan business. The higher-ups won’t protect you.”

You think when you heard my children, that’s when you snapped. It’s a moment of immense pressure in your skull, of ringing in your ears, of blood slipping down from your nose across the cupid’s bow of your top lip. Maybe the reason that you don’t pass out immediately is because it’s only to make Ogi misstep when he swings his katana at you. It smacks against the tile, the sound reverberating, and you sidestep him to rush into the pit.

It’s too late.

Or maybe you spent too much mental energy on making Ogi stop that you don’t have enough time to reattune your focus to quell the cursed spirits in the pit. The weaker spirits hesitate, but there’s one—Grade 2, bordering on Grade 1. It raises an arm, claws poised to slash. Only one of the girls reacts, throwing herself in front of her sister that’s looking around wildly because she must not be able to see the spirits that her sister has barely enough cursed energy to do.

Again, it’s too late to stop the blow, but you make it in time to be the one to take it. You leap at the girls, blanketing their small bodies with yours just as the claws come down. It burns. It burns. And the only reason that you’re conscious, that you’re alive is because Yu was right behind you and managed to knock the spirit off balance enough to weaken the blow.

Your body, uncaring of limits when it’s now on the brink of death, finds the energy to send a surge of cursed energy throughout the room. Every single spirit, even the one with blood dripping from its claws, is lulled to stillness by your pacification. Kill yourself, your body screams.

“Cover…” Your nails scrape against the tile before you clench your fists. “Cover…your…your ears,” you shakily demand of the girl that can see the cursed spirits.

Children shouldn’t have to hear the gore that’s about to ensue.

Slowly, you float back to consciousness while wondering when you even passed out.

You’re kind of surprised that you’re even awake right now. Because you’re sprawled out on your belly on a futon, naked down to your waist but not all that exposed since bandages are wrapped all around your upper torso. Your stomach and breasts are sore, an indication that you’ve been in this position for a long time now. Still, as uncaring about your comfort as they were, the Zen’in didn’t let you die.

Ha. So much for that old man’s warning that you wouldn’t be protected.

Then again, maybe the Zen’in don’t want to deal with the rage of Gojo Satoru.

Speaking of rage…

“Suguru,” you hoarsely call out to the dark presence that you sense looming in the corner of the room. Just a tilt to the side has pain racing across your body, so you can’t turn to see where he’s at, but you feel him. His cursed energy is burning. “Stop with that. You’ll scare everyone.”

“It’s the least they deserve,” Suguru spits.

With how furious he feels and sounds, you expect him to stay where he is. Brooding. But he doesn’t. You hear the shift of fabric before the soft padding of his feet against the tatami. He does look the picture of rage with his eyes, burning bright. His jaw is clenched, along with his fists that he puts on his thighs when he kneels down next to you. If someone other than you were here, it might be intimidating.

It is you, though, and it’s all undermined with Tamamo-no-Mae floating behind him. Her cursed energy is familiar, almost like a comfort now. He’s had her since that field trip to Osorezan. When one of her fox tails flops down from underneath her j��nihitoe, she strokes your cheek with it, and you giggle. And, like always, fox hair gets in your mouth.

“Put her away. Her toes gross me out,” you breathe out, trying to bring some levity to the situation before you start trying to spit out the fox hair without moving your hand. You think it’ll hurt too much to move your arms. “I can’t believe you pulled out a Special Grade for the Zen’in.”

“I don’t trust them.” Finally, his expression softens when his gaze drops down to you. He reaches down to put his hand on the side of your face. “How are you?”

“Hurts,” you admit.

“I know,” he croons sympathetically as he strokes your cheek. “Of all the times for Shoko to be away,” he sighs. “She won’t be here until the day after tomorrow. Satoru threatened to end the mission early, but Shoko talked him out of it. She spoke with the Zen’in that treated you. If you had a brain bleed, you’d already be dead. I sent her some photos of your back, too. You’ll be okay to wait. There’s just going to be scarring.”

“As if I care about that,” you mumble tiredly as your eyes slip close. “Can we go home?”

“Of course.” Suguru hunches over to press a kiss against your forehead. You don’t have it in you to be shy. “I’ll try not to have the spirit move you too much, but I’m sorry in advanced if it hurts you.”

“‘s okay. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Rest now.”

Somehow, you manage not to cry from the pain, but it’s a definite struggle. The worst part is when you arrive at the barrier around campus and Suguru has to carry you in his arms from there. Thankfully, the barrier is right at the top of the staircase, so you’re not jostled as much on the back of a manta ray as you would’ve been if Suguru carried you all the way up them. By the time he makes it to your room, though, your stitches have re-opened.

“You’re going to take a shower with me?” Now you have a little more mental energy to feel flustered.

Suguru is kneeled down in front of you, having carried you to the locker room where he’s now slipping your shoes off. “I know you. The blood dried on your back is bothering you, isn’t it? You’re not going to be able to sleep with it on your skin.” You look away, trying not to pout because he’s totally right and you kind of hate it. Above all else, it makes you feel special, but you also hate it. “We’ve had sex before,” he reminds you. “If you’re really uncomfortable with it then we can wait for Shoko.”

“No, I don’t want to wait for her.” Your cheeks puff out, so, yeah, you’re definitely pouting now. “I…us showering together…it doesn’t bother me that much. It’s just…I hate putting you out. You…you don’t have to dote on me like…this…” You motion to where his hands are curled around the waistband of your leggings. Despite your protest, you still lift your hips up to let him slide your leggings off. “I bet you didn’t do this with Satoru.”

“I did take care of him as much as he’d let me, actually.” Oh. “And I washed his back, too.” Suguru chuckles softly. “In all our years together, has it ever crossed your mind that I like taking care of you?”

No, honestly. That thought has never crossed your mind. “Help me undress,” you mumble embarrassedly. “Jeez, you didn’t need to lay it on so thick. I get it, I get it.”

“It’s cute when you get all shy,” he teases. “You act exactly like Satoru did.”

“Guess you have a type then,” you grouse.

He laughs at that. An actual laugh. And his face is soft, welcoming. “I guess I do, don’t I?”

Suguru had the hindsight to put you in his blazer before you left the Zen’in compound. It’s easy to take off without aggravating your stitches further. But there’s no stopping the sting of the water hitting the slashes across your back. Suguru rubs your shoulder soothingly as you try to force your body to relax. Everything is sore. The antiseptic meant to numb the area that the Zen’in medic was magnanimous enough to give you has faded. You duck your head, focusing on the water at your feet that slowly bleeds to pink to try and forget the pain.

Gently, Suguru starts to wash your back, exactly like he said he would. There’s no getting around the fact that the cloth will brush against your tender stitches. You grit your teeth in preparation and clutch at his hand still on your shoulder. As he gets to work, he starts up a conversation because he understands that keeping your mind off things will help.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

“Yu didn’t say?”

“No. Sensei pulled him in to talk with Gakuganji and some of the Zen’in. I think they went back to school ahead of us. The clans can pretend they’re better than the rest of us, but they still answer to headquarters. So, there might be some trouble for the Zen’in since you were technically there on orders.”

“Good.” He hums in question at your scathing remark. “They have a pit, you know. It’s filled with cursed spirits. The one that hurt me was nearly a Grade 1. They call it the Disciplinary Pit. I knew they were traditional but that…that’s barbaric.” The other hand that isn’t clutching Suguru is balled into a fist at your side. “And what was that old bastard going to do? He was going to throw children in there. They couldn’t have been more than…I don’t know. Six? And…and they were non-sorcerers!”

Suguru’s hand stops suddenly. The one gripping your shoulder goes unbearably tight. Against your back, you feel the other curl into a ball. “Non-sorcerers did this to you?”

Your brows furrow. Putting the pain aside, you look over your shoulder, utterly confused about where he got that idea from. “Did you space out just now or…?” Why does he look almost as angry as he did in the Zen’in compound? “Are you okay?” Why do you feel so…uneasy right now? “I said that old man—”

“Were those his children?”

“Yes? I don’t know what that has to do with anything, though. Did you not hear me when I said the pit was full of cursed spirits?”

“I heard, but…” He takes a deep breath, exhales, in that way he does when he’s trying to quell his temper. “Are you sure you didn’t overreact? I doubt he would’ve let them get hurt. You’re making it sound like he was just disciplining his children—”

“Overreacting,” you repeat blankly.

He sighs your name, irritated again. “Stop it. I can already tell you’re taking it the wrong way. We know how you are—”

Slowly, you force Suguru’s hand away from your shoulder, continuing to stare at him like he’s grown another head. He may as well have. You turn around, hoping that he’ll backtrack in the time it takes you to face him, but he seems to mentally double down because he squares his jaw when your eyes meet his. There’s…an energy festering around him. You don’t like it. It’s so angry.

But you are as equally angry, so you don’t try to appease him. You don’t try to calm things down. Instead, you lash out, seeking to antagonize. “Am I speaking a different language right now?”

Suguru picks up on your hostility, his own hackles raising once again. “You acted rashly. You almost died…and for what? Did you even ask what they did?”

This conversation has been slipping under your skin, touching a nerve that makes it hard to ignore. You don’t understand why until you unthinkingly snap, “Should I have asked your parents what you did before I went to the teachers about your bruises?”

He barks out a laugh. Dark. Nasty. Bitter. “Maybe you should have. Maybe then my arm wouldn’t have gotten broken because of you.”

The words are worse than a gut punch. Worse than how it felt when that curse’s claws sunk into your skin. You knew. In the back of your mind, logically, you knew that the social worker was called because of you and the broken arm he showed up at school with was because of you, too. But…the hurt of him saying that is so visceral.

Still, you must not look hurt enough because Suguru keeps going. “Are you ever going to stop and think before trying to help someone? Haven’t you hurt enough people?”

Dread, ice cold, rushes through your veins, dousing the fire of anger. You’re panicked by the things welling up inside the center of your chest. You blurt, “Leave.”

Suguru shakes his head. He sighs, the edge leaving his features. How dare he look so sympathetic. Like…like he pities you for not having figured this truth out sooner. Just more salt rubbed on this wound he dealt. For a moment, you’re reminded of your mother and the pity she has for her simple daughter. This is not your Suguru. Not anymore. You don’t know who this is and that scares you.

He reaches out a hand, whispering your name, but you flinch away.

“Leave!”  

The order is screeched so loud that your voice cracks. It’s a volume that you didn’t think yourself capable of, let alone Suguru having heard out of you before. The noise startles him, and he jerks away. The two of you stare at each other, confused about the strangers you’ve become. You’re both shaken.

Suguru tries again, blinking the confusion away as he repeats your name and reaches out.

Trying to hide away from him, you try to cover yourself while backing away. You latch onto that demand because it’s all you can do. “Leave!” You don’t want him to see you collapse in on yourself. He won’t bring you peace. He’ll only make it worse. You scream again, “Leave!”

Scream and scream and scream…

Until, finally, looking like a wounded animal, he leaves.

It takes a long, long time for you to leave the shower room.

As unsanitary as it is, you’d sat down, butt ass naked, in the middle of the showers, sobbing and trying to calm yourself down. If you could, you’d have curled up right there and gone to sleep, but you gain enough comprehension back to know that would be a stupid idea as your emotions subside.

Still sensitive, still raw, you walk out to the locker room and see your clothes on the bench. The clothes that Suguru picked out for you. Along with the fresh bandages that he was planning to help you with. You’ll have to do that yourself now. Somehow. It pisses you off. Even when you throw the clothes to the floor in anger, you realize that you’re more upset at yourself than him. It isn’t his fault that you’re so helpless.

Halfway to your room, in nothing but your towel, you sense Yu’s cursed energy growing closer. You only have enough time to finish waddling to your room, slam the door behind you, and put on panties and shorts before he’s knocking on your door. The sound has you gritting your teeth in annoyance.

“Senpai,” he calls out through the door. His voice is alarmed. “Senpai, there’s blood on the floor!”

Damn it. “I just pulled at the stitches. It’s okay. I’ll handle it.”

“But…aren’t those stitches on your back? Can you reach them?”

“I’ll manage,” you snarl loudly.

On the other side of the door, there’s a pause. Your anger is getting misplaced. If you don’t calm down, you might lose a friend today. Maybe more than one. Who the fuck knows where you and Suguru stand right now. Fuck, you want to dig your teeth into something and tear. You should not be around another person anymore today.

“Okay! I’m coming in, so please cover up!” Yu warns. The doorknob rattles once before he realizes, “Um. Right. You might not be decent and probably need time to get dressed. Let me know when you’re ready. I won’t leave until you do!”

Oh, well, it seems that his stubbornness has knocked your temper loose. Or you accept that you’re too exhausted to wait him out, so there’s also no use in staying mad. Taking a deep breath, you ready yourself. You grab the chair from your desk, spin it around the opposite way, and sit with your chest against the backrest. You keep your damp towel pressed tight to your chest.

“Go ahead,” you call out to him tiredly.

“Thank you!”

“Why are you thanking me?” You tilt your head forward, knocking it against the edge of the chair. “Sorry for making you clean up my mess.” From the position of your head, you can see the splotches of red on your towel. “Literally,” you add under your breath because you know Yu’s going to offer to clean up all the blood.

Yu shuffles forward. Hearing the clutter coming from the direction of your desk means he’s gathering up the first-aid kit. “How many times have you patched me and Nanamin up? Isn’t it time for me to return the favor?”

“I’m the senpai here.”

“What did we talk about this morning?”

Right. Take care of yourself. Lean on others. Yu doesn’t understand that if you lean too much on someone else, you quickly become a burden. No. You can’t let your mind go there right now. “Didn’t you take care of me enough when you saved my life today?”

“Eh? What are you talking about? I distracted it long enough for you to finish them off. All of them. That geezer’s reaction when they all killed themselves was funny, now that I know you’re safe and can think about it.” You both share a laugh at that asshole, Ogi’s, expense. “They’re sending you on a mission with us,” he admits after a minute of silence.

“Punishment for overstepping?”

Yu doesn’t say it is, but it is. You know how these things go. “Purely research!” Yu tries to soften the blow. “We’ll make sure you don’t lift a finger! You won’t even have to think that hard! We can make it a vacation.” Yeah, right. You’re pretty sure if an auxiliary manager saw you having fun with Yu and Kento, you’d be sent away again on another mission for the penalty of simply enjoying life. “And if you don’t feel like shopping for souvenirs, I’ll do it for you. We won’t tell anyone.”

“Sure, Yu. That sounds good.”

Yu’s voice is so unbearably soft when he whispers, “You need rest, too, Senpai.” His kindness brings tears to your eyes. You’re glad that your head is down so that you can’t embarrass yourself any further today. “I’ll make sure you get some. Just leave it to me, okay?”

“Okay.” Emotion clogs up your throat, but you manage a weak, “Thank you.”

***

[06:55] You didn’t see me before you left.

[06:56] You saw Satoru. Not me.

[06:58] Never mind. I get why.

[07:32] I went too far. I was cruel. I don’t blame you for that. Never have. You were the only person that tried to help me. I’ll never forget that. I’ll always be grateful. What I said was me looking for things to say to hurt you. I almost lost you and didn’t know how to deal with that. It didn’t seem like you cared about your own life. I lashed out.

[09:13] I’m sorry. I’ve been under a lot of stress. I can’t eat or sleep. It’s no excuse. I’m sorry. I’ll say it as much as you need me to. I can’t lose you. I can’t. You’re all I have left.

[11:29] Squid. Please. Say something. Anything. I’m sorry.

[13:10] I know you’re angry. But I’m worried. No one has heard from you. Haibara won’t answer. Neither will Nanami.

[13:11] Just a simple reply. A frowny face. Anything at all. Let me know you’re seeing this.

[14:04] Squid?

[14:05[ Please.

[16:43] Are you safe?

[16:44] Is what I’m hearing true?

[16:45] Be safe. Please. Be safe.

[16:46] I’m on the way.

***

It’s a disgustingly humid September night, technically, but right now, you’re cold.

And all you wanted was to be like them.

Foolishly, you told yourself that if they could take a mission three weeks after they faced death, why couldn’t you? It’s not like you almost died. The two weeks that Sensei pushed for you to have off were generous enough. Besides, you understand it now, how much of a hindrance you actually were when you fought to keep them out of the field.

You need this.

You can’t stand to be alone with your mind.

But you weren’t ready. Just the sight of the small, dilapidated shrine has blood splattering across your memories. You break out into a cold sweat. There’s a war inside your mind. This isn’t like two weeks ago—that’s what you try to remind yourself. Push through it. A shrine doesn’t automatically equal an ubusunagami spirit. Where is Suguru? You’re sick to your stomach. Why did you split up? Have you learned nothing? Are you going to be too late to save a life again?

Stop, you plead to your body. You clench your trembling fists. You have to do this. The world has to spin on. It doesn’t care about a stupid girl who made the wrong call and killed a boy. This work is both your punishment and atonement. You’ll let them keep tugging at the leash around your neck until it’s a noose because that’s what you deserve.

The oppressive weight of the Grade 1’s cursed energy that’s been haunting these woods shifts. With nothing but the moon and some flashlights, it’s easy to follow after the explosion of blue light. You’re dazed over the fact that you missed everything that happened. Was there even a fluctuation? A fight? Is Suguru just that strong that he can absorb a Grade 1 in the dead of night like it’s nothing?

As you break into the clearing where he is, you ask, “You took care of it?” Like the answer isn’t obviously sliding down his throat, glowing eerily through the delicate skin of his neck. “Why didn’t you come find me? I wasn’t far.”

Suguru glances away after it’s swallowed. Not even a wince anymore. “It’s fine.”

This irritates you. Another little thing tonight that he’s done. Reminding you incessantly that you could stay behind with the auxiliary manager, trying to force food down your throat when you’re clearly not hungry, touching the small of your back to guide you, hovering. Now, he does this.

The only reason that you keep your mouth shut is because you know he cares. He’s a good person, like everyone else. They don’t blame you and treat you like glass, like you’re a victim. You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to breathe. You tell yourself it’s the humidity making your chest tight.

With the other hand, you wave your sketchbook. “Are you serious? It was Grade 1. I’m supposed to record that.”

“I’ll let you sketch it later.”

“It’s pointless now,” you mutter. “Don’t even bother.”

Suguru scoffs. “Okay. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Recording them doesn’t only mean drawing pretty pictures. I’m supposed to observe their behavior.”

“You can.”

“You know it isn’t the same when they’re under your control.”

Suguru reaches up to press a thumb to his forehead, meaning he’s getting irritated with you. You resist the urge to do the same, instead tapping your foot impatiently. “It’s your first mission back,” he tries to reason. “I’m sure they’ll be understanding. But if they try to hold imperfect notes against you, I’ll take the blame.”

“I don’t want them to take it easy on me!”

He shakes his head, dismissive. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I’m not broken.”

“Everything about this goddamn system is broken!” Suguru shouts, making you reel back. The two of you watch each other warily. He shakes his head again, squeezes his eyes shut, takes deep breaths. “Let’s…just go. We’ll deal with this later,” he mutters irritably. “Let’s meet with the contact in the village and use their phone to call the manager.”

“Fine.”

Three wide brown eyes stare at you in terror.

There should be four, but one is swollen shut.

That face is too tiny to be so battered.

Suguru speaks where you cannot. “What is this?”

A man and woman were at the door, frantic and desperate to know where you and Suguru had been. Before you’d even had the chance to explain that their problem was taken care of, they practically shoved you and Suguru toward a shed. It was hard to make out what they were trying to say throughout their panicked and angry babbling. You think there was something about some murderers.

From behind you, your contact in the village answers, “What, you ask? These two are responsible for the latest incidents, right?”

Suguru is back to pressing a thumb to his forehead. Emotions are rising. Yours definitely are. Anger is putting a tremble in your hands again and your head is throbbing. You’re trying to find your voice past the lump in your throat. What the fuck is this? Does no one fucking visit these places before sending a sorcerer out?! A sorcerer wasn’t the only person needed here! A goddamn police officer was!

“No, they’re not,” Suguru answers more calmly than you can.

The man insists, “These two are crazy! They used their mysterious powers to attack the villagers!”

Something about the girls shifting, huddling closer to each other, finally snaps you into action. Full of rage, you shove past the woman to grab the set of keys that you saw near the door. “If you psychos even gave us the chance to talk, you’d know that we got rid of the problem already!”

The couple starts to sputter in outrage, seeing your clear plan to release these girls. Suguru remains unmoving, big body enough of a deterrent to keep the non-sorcerers from lashing out. So, the woman claws at your wrist. “My granddaughter was nearly killed by these two!”

One of the little girls, the one with dirty blonde hair, tries to protest, “That’s because she—”

“Shut up, you monsters!” Out of the corner of your eye, the shadows shift unnaturally. In the flickering of the flame, it’s not too noticeable. Suguru’s shadow raises a hand, pointing, and from the end of that finger comes a little spirit. “Your parents were just as bad,” the woman continues to rave. “I knew we should have killed you when you two were babies!”

It’s okay, Suguru commands the little spirit to whisper. He’s trying to reassure the little girls, to let them know that you’re all one in the same, that they’ll be safe with you. Adrenaline is rushing through your veins. There is a primal instinct to get these girls out of this place. You are all in danger here.

Blocking the entrance of the cell with your body, with every fiber of your being, you swear to the couple, “If you ever try to hurt these children again, I will kill you.” If Suguru will be gentle, then you will flash your teeth. It’s enough to send the man and woman stumbling back. “We’re leaving. If you try to stop us, I will kill you. Do you understand?”

No response. They just book it.

As soon as they’re out the door, you’re a flurry of movement. You tear off your hoodie and snatch Suguru’s blazer from where it’d slipped out of his grasp from the shock. You collapse to your knees in front of the girls, resisting the urge to touch them and check for injuries before you introduce yourself.

“We’re like you,” you explain as gently as you can when you feel so frantic. “We see them. We see you. I’m going to protect you with my life, okay? Are you cold?” They nod fervently. “Put these on. Let me help. Can you walk?” Throughout the process of wrapping them up in something warm, they manage weak affirmations. “Good. Okay. I know the things you’ve been seeing are scary, but Suguru can control them. If you see any of them, don’t be afraid. You never have to be afraid when he’s around.” You look over your shoulder briefly, hoping that directly speaking to him will pull him out of the trance. “Right? Suguru?”

Suguru stares at you blankly, unseeing. Inside him, though, his cursed energy is a frenzy. So big, so uncontrollable that it bleeds out. It’s sharp, like needles pinning down the wings of an insect. You are aggressively thrown back to that day where Satoru rose from the dead, godlike in his power, and how small it made you feel. Prey under the heavy gaze of a predator.

“Suguru is going to protect us all,” you tell yourself and them. High emotions have you sensitive to the cursed energies of others, so that’s why you can feel him so viscerally. It’s scary. You’ve never felt rage like this before—from you or him. It’s the same for you, but you can’t sit here and stew in this. These girls come first now. “Take my hands,” you instruct them as you hold your hands out. “Don’t let go.”

The makeshift prison is, thankfully, on the edge of the village. It wouldn’t be good to parade through the streets. Locking these children up was a collective decision. The faster you can get the fuck out, the better. If you can make it through the woods, to the main road, you can get a signal there, you think. No. No, you’ll just ride the manta ray. You’ll explain everything as soon as you get to Sensei.

“You’re safe now. You don’t have to be scared anymore.” You didn’t realize you were rambling, unconsciously trying to distract them from their fear with your chatter. “There’s a school. Full of people just like us. You’ll get to meet them. There’s my best friend, Shoko. She’ll make you feel better. Her power is to heal. Better than any regular doctor. And there’s our best friend. His name is Satoru. He’s super strong. Just like Suguru. He loves Digimon. He’s got lots of plushies to share with you.”

All these emotions have you feel like you could crawl out of your skin. And Suguru still hasn’t said anything. He’s mechanical in his movements, staying at the back of your little group. As you guide the group, you can pinpoint the opening of rifts, sense the cursed spirits that crawl out. Good. Yes. More protection. Who knows how those monsters are acting right now. They could be rallying the village.

“We’re going to make sure you’re taken care of. You’ll never be in a place like that ever again. I swear, you’re going to be in a place that’s full of love and understanding. Not everyone is like those terrible, terrible people—”

The more protective of the two is the blonde, based solely off that she went with you first. Voice shaking, but trying so hard to be brave, she asks, “They’re not?”

“They are.”

There’s this…snap. So brutal a turn that it hits you like whiplash.

Around you, there is such a sudden stillness that it feels like the very world has its breath held. There’s no veil. But nature senses a storm on the horizon. The eeriness of it is like ice slithering down your spine. You’ve unknowingly come to a stop, slowly turning around to face Suguru. Over his shoulder, a wider rift is opening, and as you stare into the inky darkness, many glowing eyes stare back.

The ground shakes when the Grade 1 clumbers out of the rift. It has to be the one from earlier. The foliage and trees growing on its back are distinct. Along with those eyes. And fangs so long and big that they stick out of the spirit’s mouth. It looms tall, but it doesn’t make you feel near as small as Suguru is right now.

“There are good people,” you protest quietly.

“There are good sorcerers,” he corrects just as lowly. “And where do they end up? In the ground.” Carefully, you nudge the girls further behind you before you step away. This is not a conversation that they need to hear. “When will it be our turn?” Close enough, you see the desperation in his eyes. “How long before it’s your body on a slab?”

“Death is a part of life.” Your fingers seek his out, threading together, trying to comfort him. “And we decided to risk that death coming earlier than everyone else when we left home. We chose to put our lives on the line.”

“But who are we doing this for?!” Suguru yanks his hands away, stretching his arms out, gesturing toward everything. “Animals like these?!”

“There are more good people in this world than bad.”

“If that’s the case, why do curses exist?”

“Suguru, that’s just how things are. It’s the way nature made us.”

“No. Nature made sorcerers better. They made us stronger. Why do we have to put our lives on the line like this for stinking monkeys that keep throwing their shit at us? We hide ourselves away from them, working in the shadows, always being so careful to not disturb their peace of mind, and for what? Is it so they can lock little girls in cages because they’re too scared of the unknown? Or so they can beat me like my fucking father did or constantly belittle and demean you like your parents did all for the sin of not being what they call normal? We don’t deserve this!”

“I know we don’t. No one does.” How can you explain this to him? You understand what he’s saying. Down in your bones, you know where this resentment is coming from. “But while there exists extreme cruelty, there also exists overwhelming kindness. It can’t be all bad. We found happiness, didn’t we?”

“We found it with sorcerers. If we lived in a world where no non-sorcerer existed, there wouldn’t be all this pain!”

“But…that world doesn’t exist. It can’t.”

“Why not?”

You give a sharp, hysterical laugh. “Because you’d have to kill every non-sorcerer living, that’s why. That’s not possible.”

He tilts his head, almost condescending when he sneers, “It’s not?” The cursed spirit behind him gives a rumbling growl, reminding you of its presence, of its threat. Your already racing heart pounds faster as you comprehend his meaning. Surely, he doesn’t mean…

“Suguru, let’s go home,” you plead.

“No.” No? “There is no home for me now. We’ll never be safe or happy until this world is clean. I understand what my true path is now. I know what I need to do now…and I’ll kill anyone that gets in my way.”

The precipice that your world has been standing on the edge of for the last year finally tilts.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Right now, you’re the only person that can stand close enough to drag him back from the edge. I’ll kill anyone that gets in my way, he threatens, and right now, you believe that. But not me, you know. Therefore, it must be you that saves him. Because he’s falling. He’s going somewhere that you won’t be able to follow. You’re going to lose him. This would be rebirth and this would be death.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Cursed spirits seem to explode out of him. Too many to count. You know them all. The blossoming promise of an army that the higher-ups were always afraid he could weaponize.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

That Grade 1 shifts. Its maw, hungry for blood, opens wide. It raises an arm, claws sharp and poised at the ready. You know that when it moves, it’s over. The other spirits will follow. This Grade 1 is an extension of Suguru. This is his rage, his loneliness, his agony.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Eyes, cold and hard as the amethyst they so resemble, stare dead ahead with steel-like resolve. Slowly, he starts to turn his back on you. You have to stop him. You have to keep talking to him. And you reach out a hand to grab at his bicep. Your mouth is in the shape of his mouth. You think…you think that you might say something that sounds like stop.

Suguru won’t hurt me.

Just as your body instinctually knows that you don’t need to pacify his spirits, that he won’t hurt you…his body knows not to hurt you, either…

Suguru won’t hurt me.

…right?

Suguru won’t—

Blood colors your vision. Pain doesn’t even register in your brain. One second, you’re upright, and in the next, the ground is rising up to meet you. Even the resounding thud that your body gives as it slams down does triggers nothing. Sprawled out in the lush green grass, it only really feels numb to you.

No, all your erratic thoughts can seem to focus on is how disgusting this feels. Wet, sticky heat is quickly soaking your white shirt, weighing it down against your skin, making you feel trapped. You might be gasping for air that you can’t seem to get enough of.

Suguru…hurt…

Thoughts are getting scattered in your brain now. The world narrows in, black hedging in at the corner of your vision. You want it off. The shirt. The blood. You stupidly reach a hand up to wipe away the blood. Gore is all you find. Open gaping wounds that start at the crook of your neck and go…you don’t know how far down. You don’t have the strength left to follow the path.

Suguru…hurt…

Oh. There is he above you now. Thank goodness, you think when you see the panic so clear on his face. Emotion…there’s all those emotions that’d been missing. Nothing cold anymore. Thank goodness. His mouth moves. Says your name, maybe. You can’t hear him. You can’t feel it when he presses his hands somewhere on your body, either. Putting pressure on it must not be working. There’s a lot of blood dripping from his hands when he scrambles to pull out his cell phone. Ah. Yeah, your vision is starting to blur. You give up trying to read his lips.

It's a pretty night, all things considered. For as much as you two hated it, it’s beautiful in the countryside. Easier to see the moon and stars. You always tried to reject that reality. After you left for Tokyo, you thought that was it, that you left that all behind for good, that you wouldn’t die in the backwoods.

Guess you were wrong about that.

[riiviir]

shockingly I drew something other than COTL today

anyways. ocs

[maximura]

Ad Astra: The Theory Of Relativity | An Interstellar Ateez Story | Chapter 10

Previous chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine

Words: 6k. Warnings: Science and swearing. You can also read it on A03.

****

They’re in the middle of a training exercise when Hongjoong realises just how fragile the entire Lazarus mission is and how ridiculous it is that something so monumentally important should hinge on something as small and trivial as human relationship. Hope for billions of lives, resting on the chemistry between four people.  It shouldn’t matter what anybody thinks of him.

But it does. 

It matters that Wonwoo and Hyunjae trust him to lead them even though he’s been brought in at the last minute. It matters that NASA respects his judgement even though they have every reason to hesitate. It matters that his qualifications and knowledge are recognised.

And it matters that Park Seonghwa believes Kim Hongjoong is right for this job. 

A physics equation has no chance of success if the hands that control it aren’t compelled to use it. 

It keeps Hongjoong up at night. Just wondering. Seonghwa hadn’t chosen him. NASA, Professor Park and then Seungcheol had chosen him. His brain has tried to convince him that it doesn’t matter. 

But his heart tells him it does. 

“What’s up with you?” Yunho asks at breakfast, in between bites of the cornbread he made that morning.

And that’s the other problem. 

Hongjoong hasn’t told his brothers about the mission. They still don’t know that in seven months time, he’ll be flying perhaps one of the last interstellar missions, with no guarantee of return or success.

The indigestion and insomnia gnaws away at Hongjoong. He can’t remember when he last had a decent night’s sleep. Maybe when he was seventeen. 

Yunho, with his sense of duty, will dissociate from the grief and force himself to be strong and carry on. Hongjoong worries about him less, though only slightly. 

It’s Wooyoung that he saves most of his worrying for. Fifteen going on Thirty, jaded by tragedy but still so enthusiastic about life and living. He’s always been the one that reminds Hongjoong to live and keep on living. 

Breaking the news to him will be one of the hardest things Hongjoong will have to do, and he’s already told that kid a lifetime of bad news. 

For now, Hongjoong reminds himself to savour the time they have left together. 

“It’s just work stuff.”

“NASA work or Farm work?”

“NASA.”

“What? You can’t handle training those nerds in your old age?” Yunho teases.

“Actually, yeah.” Hongjoong replies with a snort. “You’d think I’d be used to raising brats by now.”

“I haven’t been a brat since-“

“-last week.” 

Yunho puts his fork down and crosses his arms in defence. “I told you that it was Mingi’s idea to take the truck to the old river. It was meant to be dried up. How was I supposed to know it was still wet and full of mud?!”

“It’s funny how it’s always Mingi’s idea when he’s not here to defend himself. I’m starting to think that kid is a bad influence on you. You sure you want him as your best friend?”

“There’s nothing wrong with him!” Yunho huffs in indignation. “He’s not a bad influence. He’s got a job and everything! He’s got multiple jobs actually!”

“Yeah yeah, I know. Well, at least I finally got round to teaching you how to winch a truck out of mud. Wasn’t exactly ideal but at least you know now.”

“Mingi could’ve taught me. He really loves that sort of thing. He’s pretty good at it. I mean, almost as good as you.”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes internally. 

But this was something Hongjoong already knew about Song Mingi: despite the outwardly airheaded golden retriever personality, he is a (surprisingly) emotionally intelligent and practical kid when it really mattered. Hongjoong can see why Yunho has stayed friends with him all these years, when so many others kids have come and gone. 

They’ve all heard stories about Mingi since grade school. He was an equally gangly and tall kid who became Yunho’s friend due to proximity and virtue of height; they found themselves always seated at the back, always stood behind all the other students, always book-ending photos so not to steal focus for their shorter colleagues. 

Hongjoong hadn’t kept up with it all when their parents died but knows he should’ve. It’s another regret he stuffs away in the corner of his brain. 

Song Mingi was polite enough, if not a bit too loud and lacking control of his body, which often times seemed both too big and too small to contain him. Yunho had never called Mingi his best friend. They could spend days together then weeks apart, it hadn’t mattered to their friendship, which always picked up where it left off, whether that was two hours ago or two weeks. 

Hongjoong knew of Mingi’s parents, had spoken to them many times over the years, though that too had dropped off once his own parents died. He isn’t proud to admit that, back then in his youth, he felt a deep resentment towards anybody who still had parents. Adulthood dulled those thoughts but the sting never really leaves. It’s just another shame he harbours quietly in secret.

Mingi’s parents are both still alive, both working at the local desalination and water filtration plant. It was expected that Mingi would follow in their footsteps after high school and he had in a way; choosing to spend half his time there to help his parents and the other half with Yunho at the Mill. And the third half, in the spare time he doesn’t have, he spends volunteering at the local fire station, which is likely why he knows how to winch cars out of mud.

“He was pretty good.” Hongjoong nods in agreement. “How’s he handling all his jobs?” 

Yunho looks up in mild surprise, abandoning the bread crumbs on his plate. “What?”

“What?” Hongjoong mirrors. “Why do you look so shocked? I’m not allowed to ask you about your friends?”

“You’ve just never been that interested in him before. I thought he annoyed you and he definitely thinks you hate him.”

Hongjoong frowns at that. He hadn’t even notice.

“I don’t hate him.”

“Well, I know that.” Yunho says emphatically. “I keep telling him you’re just a grumpy old man but he’s taking it personally.”

“I’ll…try harder to be nice next time.”

“Yeah but do it gradually. Otherwise he’ll know we’ve been talking about him. Be chill about it.”

“Chill? Geez, you’re talking about the same kid that used to throw a tantrum over Monopoly real estate?”

“He still does that. He’s a Leo, what did you expect?” Yunho says, as if the astrology explains everything.

“And you want me to be chill?”

Yunho shrugs in response and they both turn when Wooyoung’s footsteps thunder down the stairs. 

“Are you guys talking about me?” 

“You know not everything revolves around you and your problems right?” Yunho says with an eye roll. 

Wooyoung sits down at the table with a grin. “Or maybe it does. You never know.”

“You’re being sus.” Yunho says, narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything! Why do you always think I did something!”

Hongjoong sighs. “Wooyoung-“

“Okay okay, so I was talking to San on our radio, about SPIKE, when Seonghwa came in his room and then I was talking to Seonghwa, did you know he’s been working on more robots? So anyway, I was telling him about the military drone chip we found and how it’s crazy powerful for a small robot like SPIKE and then…”

Wooyoung takes a breath as his brothers both wait expectantly for the conclusion. 

“…he said he’d might have some old NASA robot parts he can give me!”

Hongjoong puts his fork down. “He said that?”

“Yeah? He said it was stuff they weren’t going to use because it needed too much time and work. So he’ll give it to me. Can you believe it?!” Wooyoung’s joyful expression falls for a moment. “I can keep them right?”

Hongjoong finds himself nodding, mind still trying to process the fact that Seonghwa has been talking to his little brother. 

“I promise I’ll take care of it all.” Wooyoung continues. “And I won’t let it distract me from school and work stuff."

“You can keep them. Just be sensible. And don’t blow up the basement.”

“I’m always sensible.” Wooyoung nods gravely. “And the last incident wasn’t really my fault.”

Yunho snorts. “So it was one of your space ghosts that started the fire?”

Wooyoung chews on his cornbread, seemingly ignoring the jab, before calmly swallowing. “Hongjoong, tell Yunho he’s just jealous Seonghwa isn’t giving him any robot parts.”

“I don’t even want them!”

“Everyone wants stuff from NASA!”

“Trust me, we don’t. Not everyone is obsessed like you.”

“Hongjoong, tell Yunho to go hang out with the flat-earth truthers.”

“Hongjoong, tell Wooyoung he’s such a child.”

Hongjoong doesn’t do either. He lets Wooyoung swipe the crispy corners of his bread and doesn’t stop Yunho from pouring obscene amounts of syrup onto his breakfast. He just lets life happen. 

They have the rest of their meal in loud chaos, where the conversation swerves from one topic to the next, and it never ceases to amaze Hongjoong how opinionated and intelligent both of his brothers have grown up to be, and how they will disagree on just about anything. r

During a discussion about who the best Batman villain is (Yunho thinks it’s Ra's Al Ghul, Hongjoong went for the classic Joker and Wooyoung picked Selina Kyle because “she actually won”), Hongjoong becomes hyper aware of the fact he might only have a few more months of this left. There was a time when Hongjoong would be annoyed if one of his brothers breathed too loudly in the next room or ate his junk food but that feels like a whole other lifetime ago. He’s changed, so have they, and one day, in the not too distant future, he will miss all this loud mundaneness. 

Maybe this is the last of it. 

Maybe this is the last time Wooyoung will steal the crispy bits of cornbread. Or the last time Hongjoong will be able to eat something Yunho cooked. Or the last time they’re in the same room together, bickering about things that don’t really matter in the grand scheme of life but definitely matter in the here and now.

His mind drifts to the other side of town, wondering if Seonghwa is feeling the same thing as he eats breakfast with San and whether he too can hear the same loud ticking of a silent countdown. 

He wonders if San knows everything about the Mission yet, because once San knows, Wooyoung will know. 

He really needs to talk to Seonghwa about this. 

****

It’s the following week, during a flight landing exercise, that Hongjoong blurts it out. 

“Does San know about the Mission?”

Seonghwa, still a little stiff in the neck, turns to the question slowly and with a guarded expression. 

“Yes. All the trainees know about the Lazarus Mission.”

“But does he know you’re leaving?”

“No.” There’s a flicker of uncertainty and sadness as Seonghwa looks away for a split second. “Does Wooyoung?”

“No.” Hongjoong replies. “When are you planning on telling San?”

“After the evaluations.”

“That’s in a fortnight.”

“It’s unnecessary to worry him if I don’t pass my physical assessment. You might be flying with someone else.” The physicist says with a wry smile. 

Hongjoong frowns before ending the training exercise, causing the simulator to grind to a halt. “They made me Captain but this is your mission. We can’t fly without you.”

Seonghwa looks up with a sigh when his monitor blacks out. “Of course you can. You’re the pilot. I was never meant to fly in the first place. That wasn’t part of the original plan.”

“Yes it was.” Hongjoong insists. “You were always part of the plan.”

“How do you know that?” Seonghwa laughs. “Have you been talking to my father again? Did he spin some tale about destiny and fate?”

Hongjoong doesn’t have an answer, just more questions.

“Why wouldn’t you pass the evaluations? You’ve been to the physiotherapist and neurologist to fix your gravitational vertigo and I know you’re now physically and psychologically capable of interstellar flight.”

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, taken aback but just how closely Hongjoong has been studying and paying attention to everything, but he’s the Captain after all, of course he would know the health status of his crew and read the countless mission reports. 

“We all have to meet the same criteria. It’s up to NASA now.”

“The mission will fail if you don’t fly.”

“You don’t know that. NASA will send the most competent man for the job. Wonwoo has been briefed on everything I know-“

“Well that’s sounds like bullshit.” Hongjoong mutters under his breath. “How can he know everything you know?”

It’s loud enough for Seonghwa to hear but he presses on regardless. “Wonwoo is a ready and capable member of NASA. He-“

“-isn’t you.” 

Seonghwa takes off his gloves and sits back in his chair with an amused smirk. “Is that your criteria for acceptable mission personnel? That one of them just has to be me?”

Hongjoong huffs in frustration and sits back in his own chair by way of answer. 

“It’s a bit biased, don’t you think Hongjoong? And very unfair to other scientists who weren’t born me.”

Hongjoong cringes inwardly as Seonghwa continues, voice filled with the same kind of arrogant amusement he heard when they first met. 

“It’s a moot point anyhow. Of course this Mission is mine. They’ll ground me to their own detriment. Nobody knows this mission like I do.”

Hongjoong smiles to himself. That’s more like it: this is the Park Seonghwa he remembers from their first meeting. 

“Why does that sound like a threat?”

“Because it is.” Seonghwa replies frankly, before his sharp features softens its edges. “But to answer your other question, I’ll make sure San won’t say anything to Wooyoung until you’ve had the chance to. I know it’s important to you.”

Hongjoong hadn’t asked that question but Seonghwa seems to have heard it anyway. He turns to regard the Doctor again, who has gone back to staring at the blackened monitors, and suddenly wonders if he’s ever had anyone best him so consistently before. 

Part of him is somehow okay with that. 

The other part can see the conflict. 

And it’s a conflict that Hongjoong learns it the hard way when the main Mission crew are called up to their first team simulation exercise. He learns that there is such a thing as too many cooks in the kitchen and that too many brains doesn’t necessarily equate to collective intelligence. 

“The docking sequence is ready to go. Call it, Cap.” Wonwoo says from his position as station support. 

Hongjoong settles into the Captain’s seat and nods. “Situation report, Hyunjae?”

“We’re going too fast. We’re off by 0.8 of a second. If the velocities don’t match, we will grind the metal and risk damaging the seal. No seal means no airlock and no airlock means certain catastrophic death.”

“Okay, just the report will do. No need for the morbid dread.” 

“Oh that part is free, Cap.”

Hongjoong just shakes his head. “Our options are to burn the thrusters to slow down and match the velocity to the station, or we hover and wait for the gravitational pull from Titan to match our speed.”

Hongjoong contemplates the scenario. “If we burn thrusters, we will use more fuel, which is a finite resource we can’t easily get more of, but it will save time. If we rely on the gravitational pull, we’ll conserve fuel but lose time.”

“What’s the split Wonwoo? How much fuel will we save? And how much time will we lose?”

“0.8% fuel but that’s potentially enough to reach a nearby wormhole or planetary system-“

“Fuel is there to be used. This isn’t about conserving fuel.” Seonghwa points out. “I suggest we remember the objectives of this mission.”

“I am aware of the mission objectives. There’s no point making a ground breaking discovery if we can’t get back home.” Hongjoong counters. “I think we should wait for the gravitational pull. Save the fuel.”

“And the Mission is futile if we don’t make a ground breaking discovery at all.” Seonghwa fires back. “I think we should burn the thrusters, use the fuel, save time for extra exploratory travel. We can transmit data back, even if the rest of the Mission is unsuccessful.”

“Incomplete data is useless. We need data from both Titan and the black hole. They’ll never solve the relativity equation without it.”

“Which is precisely why we should save time for exploration and travel.”

“It’s why we should save fuel to enable exploration and travel.”

Seonghwa wants to say something more but doesn’t. It’s just a training exercise but Hongjoong is irritated by it. 

“Let’s vote on it then.”

Wonwoo and Hyunjae shift uncomfortably in their seats. 

“The data shows both options are viable.” Wonwoo says carefully. “Depending on which end point we want: save time or save fuel.”

Hyunjae clears his throat. “I should remind you all that we’re outside Titan. The time dilation here is not as significant as near a black hole as big as Lux Aeterna, but it’s still significant.”

“What’s the ratio?” 

“Every minute near Titan is a day on Earth. So twenty minutes here is nearly a month on Earth. We will need to hover for close to 40 minutes if you want to rely on gravity to slow us down. That’s two months in Earth time. Near Lux Aeterna, every minute is a month of Earth time. A forty minute pause will cost you nearly a year.”

The other two scientists split their vote. Seonghwa is the last to decide. 

“It’s a dead tie. Protocol dictates it’s the captains call.” Hyunjae says. 

They use the gravitational pull, conserve the fuel and dock the ship. 

The simulation ends. 

It’s technically a success but it doesn’t feel like one. 

And Seonghwa walks off with a scowl. 

“No, let him be.” Wonwoo says, holding Hongjoong’s arm to stop him from following. “Talking isn’t his way of fixing things.”

“Well what is?”

“Good science.” Wonwoo says without missing a beat. “You know he’s not a talker.”

Hongjoong sighs. “Well that’s going to be a problem once we’re up there. If he doesn’t talk, we’re never going to be a team.”

“Just give it some time.”

“Time?” Hongjoong laughs. “We don’t have time. Time is why we have a problem.”

Wonwoo smiles and puts his glasses back on. “Yeah, I know. It sounded stupid as soon as I said it.”

Mercifully, their next team task is getting the robotic cybersynk ready but this involves two procedures to install the transmitters first. It’s Hyunjae’s task to do it and Hongjoong is relieved. 

Choi Hyunjae is older than the other three. He has been a loyal and dedicated member of the Professor’s team for years. Hongjoong met him during his early training but not much since, as one pursued theoretical physics and the other flight. 

Hyunjae is quiet, fiercely intelligent and darkly humorous. 

And he approaches Hongjoong now with a gun. 

“What the hell is that?”

“NeuroTransmitter Insertion Device.”

“It’s a tagging gun.”

“Yeah, it’s a tagging gun.” Hyunjae grins. “Actually the biologists used it to tag livestock. We thought it would prove helpful at NASA. Especially tagging black sheep.”

Hongjoong gives him a withering glare. “Anyway, I read your briefing. One transmitter in my arm and the other in my neck and this should sync me with CAASI and LEO for the interstellar mission, right?”

“Yes, the arm is easy, just pick one. But the neck, well, it’s going to sting going in and for days after.”

“It’s not going to turn me into a cyborg or anything right?”

Hyunjae grins again, wickedly joyous this time. “Well, what if it does? Too late for you to back out. Can’t wait for you to sync up with CAASI.”

“That thing hates me.”

“It’s a machine. It doesn’t have human emotions Hongjoong.” Hyunjae says, swabbing antiseptic on Hongjoong’s right forearm. 

“It does! When I first met it, it tasered me!”

“You broke into a NASA facility. You’re lucky you only got tasered.”

“Yeah yeah, let’s get this over with.” Hongjoong grumbles, tensing his arm before Hyunjae swats him to relax it. 

It takes all but a second, too quick to really register pain, but the loud metallic clunk echoes in the lab, and as Hyunjae glues up the wound, Hongjoong wonders what would happen if, when, they succeed in the mission and the device has to come out. Or maybe he’d just have to live with it forever. 

The neck neuraltransmitter is more difficult and delicate, due to its close proximity to both his brain and spinal cord. Hyunjae instructs him to lay face down on the examination bed for the scanner to map out the planes of his neck and spine. He’s seen a machine like this before, back when his parents were in and out of hospital for radiation treatment. 

Only this time, there’s a robotic arm attached to a console, where Hyunjae sits, peering into a microscope to program the insertion site within a millimeter of accuracy. 

“I need you to lay as still as possible. Seonghwa is going to numb your neck but it’s going sting going in.”

“Seonghwa? Why does-“

Before Hongjoong can protest it, there’s a hand against the back of his head, then fingers feeling for the bony landmarks of his spine. It makes every hair on his body stand on end. 

“-because I’m qualified and they need someone who knows what they’re doing.”

The antiseptic is cold, which doesn’t bother him, but the anaesthetic injections, all four of them, sting sharply going in. 

“Ah, fuck.” Hongjoong mutters through gritted teeth. 

Above him, Seonghwa holds some gauze to where his neck bleeds, massaging firm pressure. “The tattoo was worse than this, surely.”

“Nope, this is worse.” Hongjoong replies, before pausing abruptly in thought. 

How does Seonghwa even know about his tattoo. It’s not on a particular visible part of his body. 

The gauze rubs a few more circles into his neck before it leaves altogether, the skin feeling numb and tingling now. 

“Well, it’s about to get worse.”

The robotic arm burns the code into his neck. Not unlike a tattoo but in place of ink, it embeds inert metal. Even with the anaesthesia, it burns hot and searing. 

Hongjoong curses into the pillow and counts down by the second, trying to think of something calming; big skies, wide fields, slow rivers, quiet sunsets and vast space. 

It’s only half effective. 

By the time the procedure is finished, he’s completely out of breath and would kill for an ice pack and shot of whisky. 

“It’s all done!” Hyunjae announces cheerfully as he comes to inspect his handiwork. “It looks good. Well actually, it looks like a minor murder scene but it’ll look good when it heals.”

Hongjoong throws him a glare. “That better be it. You said it’d only sting. That was a flesh burn.”

“You’ve been through worse, you big wimp, but you can go now. Unless you want to watch us torture Seonghwa.”

He really doesn’t but Hongjoong can hear the faint cursing and groans as he exits the lab. 

****

Having control of your own limbs is unconscious until you lose it, much like breathing, it’s not something a human notices until someone mentions it. 

Having control of something else, be it a space ship or a robot is surreal and unnerving and thrilling all at once. 

They ask Hongjoong to test the cybersynk program in Seonghwa’s lab a few days later when the flesh burn has healed. 

It’s only then that Hongjoong realises he’s never been in Seonghwa’s lab before, it feels intrusive walking in but the door is already open so he figures it’s fine. 

The space is neat, except for a stack of notebooks in the corner, some opened, dog-eared and scrawled over. Some pristine without a single mark on the pages.

There’s a big desk made of black wood, on-top on which sits four or five black fountain pens in a crystal glass. There’s exactly one photo, that Hongjoong peeks at as he passes, it’s of a younger San, sitting on a prototype robot, grinning toothily, with a lanky teenage Seonghwa and the Professor smiling in the background. San is waving at the person taking the photo and Hongjoong wonders if that was Seonghwa’s mother. 

That very physicist, all grown up now, is towards the back of the lab, crouched in front of CAASI, whose red light is blinking threateningly, telling Hongjoong it must already be processing everything. 

“Don’t embarrass me CAASI, just look for his signature like you did with mine.” Seonghwa says quietly. 

“Confirmed. Zero percent embarrassment.”

Hongjoong smiles in amusement and knocks on the table, waiting for Seonghwa to look up. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Good afternoon, Kim Hongjoong.”

“Uh, good afternoon CAASI.” Hongjoong says, feeling self conscious that he’s talking to a machine. “How did it know it’s me? We haven’t turned the Cybersynk on.”

“Well, he does have a sophisticated scanner system and facial recognition programming. I haven’t disabled those yet. This is NASA, not some backyard robot.” 

“I know, I just thought erm….” Hongjoong chuckles nervously but doesn’t know how else to defend himself. 

“The link is for when we’re interstellar.” Seonghwa explains, mercifully ignoring the awkward stammering. “So you can pilot and control CAASI and LEO without being in close physical distance or line of sight. But we have to prove it works on Earth first.”

“It’s never really been put into practice before has it? The files weren’t clear.” 

Seonghwa shakes his head. “Yes and no. It went into flight once but NASA thought it was a waste of money because we had enough expendable human personnel at the time. We don’t now, so Hyunjae’s been doing victory laps of vindication ever since it’s been back online.”

“Why didn’t he get the link himself? Why did NASA only approve you and me for cybersynk?”

“That’s a question you’ll need to ask Hyunjae himself. And yes, we will both have control of CAASI and LEO but protocol dictates they’ll be programmed to follow you first, as the Mission’s Captain. Unless, of course, your orders contradict the data and laws.”

First Law: A robot cannot injure a human or allow a human to be harmed through inaction. Second Law: A robot must obey human orders, except when those orders conflict with the First Law. Third Law: A robot must protect its own existence, as long as it doesn't conflict with the First or Second Law. -Isaac Asimov

“Seems risky that it can override my commands.”

“It isn’t an override system. They will just not execute them if your commands violate those laws.” Seonghwa says as he stands up. “You should remember that they can process a million data points faster than you can. My suggestion would be to make decisions based on the best science you have at the time. When you want accurate probability and impartial information, use the robots. If you can’t be impartial, well, I guess that’s why my father wanted you on the team.”

It’s the way it’s said that unexpected stabs at Hongjoong. 

Hyunjae interrupts their conversation by announcing his arrival with a childlike glee. “Okay Hongjoong, ready to become a cyborg overlord?”

Hongjoong’s not sure what he was expecting, maybe some electric shock or big lever to be pulled. In the end, all it took was for a specific code to be entered and activated. 

CAASI’s red light blinks bright crystalline blue. 

Hyunjae nods to Seonghwa to disable the robots old system and activate the new programming. They give Hongjoong a walkie-talkie and send him out the lab. 

Through the comms, he can hear: 

“CAASI, find Kim Hongjoong.”

“Finding Kim Hongjoong...... Located. East block. NASA Headquarters. Boardroom A. Exterminate or neutralise? Conditions favourable for both.”

Seonghwa’s amused voice crackles through the walkie-talkie. “Neither, good job CAASI. Stand down.”

“Affirmative. Standing down. Maybe next time Doctor Park.”

Hongjoong’s neck tattoo tingles.“What did it say? Next time what?”

“Next time Doctor Park may not be present to order a stand down. I may go rogue.”

Hongjoong splutters in disbelief. “What? He can do that?”

“He’s joking.” Hyunjae snorts. “He has humour settings. To mimic normal human conversation. You know, to make us more comfortable.”

“Comfortable? What’s his setting on? 98% dark and morbid?”

“95%. But I can be adjusted for your fragile disposition. You’re not as entertaining as Doctor Park.”

Hongjoong huffs through the walkie-talkie. “Listen here you punk, you’re dialling it down to 70%. That’s an order.”

“70% Humour settings. Affirmative.”

When Hongjoong makes it back to Seonghwa’s lab, he asks the man, “You deliberately programmed it like this?”

“It’s kind of funny.” Wonwoo grins. “And obviously the link works for you now.”

“It’s kind of psychotic. That thing has it out for me.” 

Seonghwa barely conceals his eye roll. “He does not.”

“Why does it even need humour settings? It’s a mission robot isn’t it? We just need it to execute human led orders. Why does it need a personality that back talks?”

The other three scientists exchange a silent look between them and Hongjoong knows he’s missed something when Seonghwa speaks to him with a serious expression on his face. 

“Greater humans have gone mad in the isolation of space. We’ve lost valuable missions and personnel, not from dangerous environments or lack of supplies, but loneliness. I designed CAASI and LEO to be as human as a machine of their purpose can be. If you should ever find yourself alone on a hostile planet, you may view their human-like features more favourably.”

Hyunjae hums sagely before lightening the mood and redirecting them to test out the next robot. 

“Come on, you morose lot, let’s sync up LEO while we’re here.”

A smaller unit enters the room, after Hyunjae inputs the same coding to activate it, its blue light starts blinking and Hongjoong feels another sensation down his spine.

Instead of sending him out the lab again, Seonghwa leads LEO down the hall to an undisclosed location.

“LEO, find Kim Hongjoong.”

“Finding Kim Hongjoong. Located. East block. NASA Headquarters. Laboratory of Doctor Park Seonghwa. Awaiting next orders, Captain.”

“Oh, this one I like.” Hongjoong says with a grin. “What’s its humour settings on?”

“My humour settings are not yet activated. Would you like to set them now?”

“LEO, humour settings 70%.”

“Humour setting 70%. A conservative decision but appropriate given the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” Hongjoong asks. 

“I have deduced you are still on Earth and have not entered an environment that requires my humour to distract you from peril.”

“Oh, a smart ass huh?” Hongjoong says, looking at Seonghwa as the Doctor re-enters the room and merely shrugs nonchalantly, as if it should’ve been expected.

“Okay great.” Wonwoo says, clapping his hands together. “So the link is functional at close range and you’re all good at playing Where’s Waldo. How about we attempt something a little more advanced? Like, another docking sequence.”

“Ah, the team favourite.” Hyunjae snarks heartily. “Hopefully it’s less mutinous than our last attempt.”

It isn’t. 

It’s worse. 

They accurately assess their situation with CAASI’s guidance and LEO's data, both robots following Hongjoong’s commands through the cybersynk with only a few glitches, which will be patched before the next flight, but eventually a small argument breaks out when the question of time versus fuel resurfaces. 

Professor Park hears about it in great detail when Seonghwa visits him later that afternoon.

“You cannot both be right every time. Only science is right.” The Old man chuckles. 

“It was a docking manoeuvre. There should only be one right outcome. He insists on conserving fuel and resources, despite the fact that the purpose of the Lazarus Mission is to explore new planetary systems. We won’t explore enough space if we only focus on coming home.”

“And your mission will not be a success if you are adrift at sea without a beacon or chance of rescue. He’s being what we ask of him: a Captain.”

“Does he also have to be so contrary? He has a problem with every second thing I say.”

“Then you need to communicate this to him. He’s motivations may be different to yours.”

“Our motivations and goals should be the same: they should align with the mission!”

“He is not your enemy Seonghwa.”

“I know.”

“Don’t get comfortable thinking of him that way.”

Seonghwa sinks into the chair. “Why did you involve him? The Lazarus Mission was always meant to be piloted by Commander Song.”

“But did Commander Song ever challenge you like this?”

“I don’t really enjoy having to work so hard for every single decision on a mission that I know more about than everyone, except you.” 

The old man peers over his glasses with a knowing look. “You don’t enjoy the challenge?”

“No! The odds are against us, even before we’ve launched. I don’t need some stubborn pilot to make my life more difficult up there. And why is he risk averse when it really matters? Where’s the law breaking rebel you promised me he’d be?”

“Come now, Seonghwa. Your metrics for success are not the same as his but you know he’s the best man for the job.”

“Father…”

“I believe him to be your equal. Or the closest thing to it.”

Seonghwa doesn’t understand how that could be true. “But we’re nothing alike.”

“I said, equal, not similar. He is able to consider ideas you haven’t even thought of. And you are able to solve problems that he will never be able to process. Your compassion and understanding for each other is crucial to the Mission’s success.”

“You didn’t even know he was still around six months ago!”

With a sharp look that belies his age, Professor Park says, “I did. I’ve kept my eyes on him throughout the years but he had to come to us on his own terms.”

Seonghwa sighs. “If you knew he was a good pilot-“

“He’s an exceptional pilot.”

“Okay, if you knew he was an exceptional pilot, why didn’t you involve him from the start. We started working on Lazarus years ago.”

“He was not the same man years ago. You forget his parents died and he was on disciplinary hiatus from NASA back then. We were very much the enemy. He would not have come willingly. The tragedy, the very fact he needed to pause his life to raise his brothers is precisely why he’s agreed to join us now. What stronger motivation for a dangerous science experiment than love and survival.”

Seonghwa screws up his face. 

Professor Park chuckles. “Do you really have an aversion to love and friendship or is it just a habit at this point?”

“I don’t have an aversion! I care about plenty of things.”

“I know you do.” Professor Park says gently now. “You always try your best. But let Hongjoong try his best too. He’s done remarkably well educating himself over the past few months.”

Seonghwa doesn’t want to dwell on the looming Mission anymore. He’s mentally and physically fatigued from the worrying. 

“I wish this was over with already. Waiting is the worse part.”

The Professor hums knowingly before sitting up. “I will guarantee that one day, when you’re up there, flying past Saturn, and I’m long gone-“

Seonghwa startles at that. “Dad...”

“Let me finish. One day I will be long gone and you will be on Mission, you will be prepared to give up everything you have to be in the place you are now. Savour the time Seonghwa. You can’t know how precious this current present is. You will only understand when you are up there.”

“I know time is precious.” Seonghwa says quietly. “All I think about is time and schedules and how I have to leave you and San behind.”

“He will understand.”

“Will he?” Seonghwa snorts sadly. “He’s going to throw a tantrum.”

“Well, he is sixteen after all.” 

They both laugh. 

“What have you told him?”

Seonghwa slumps down into his chair again, the weight of the question, the heaviest of all. 

“He just knows NASA kept me on the Lazarus team. We’re all technically Earth Crew until we pass our physical evaluations. Which I will. He doesn’t know I’ll be flying.”

“When will you tell him?”

“After final evaluations are confirmed.”

“He will understand.” Professor Park repeats. “He grew up in NASA. He knew of hydrogen economics and terminal velocities before he knew how to drive a car. He will understand why you must leave.”

Seonghwa nods. “Actually, Hongjoong taught him how to drive just last week.”

“I know, he told me. Very proud of himself but worried you’d be upset that he didn’t ask you to teach him first.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Oh?”

Seonghwa sighs. “Alright, I am a little upset. Not that he prefers Hongjoong, they’re so alike so that part makes logical sense, it’s just how secretive he was. I only discovered it all when I came to the farm to pick him up.”

“Well, he wanted to surprise you. Telling you would defeat the purpose. He wanted to show you that there’s one less thing you need to worry about.”

Seonghwa looks up, shocked he hadn’t thought of that reason himself. “But I don’t mind driving him. It’s the only time we really see each other and can talk.”

Professor Parks smiles. “Perhaps you need to talk some more, hmm?”

“I need to schedule it in. Did he tell you Wooyoung built a radio and they’re on it every night?”

“I have heard about it in great detail. Dare I say he is obsessed with it?”

“He’s completely obsessed with it and Wooyoung. They’re all he ever talks about.”

The Professor takes in the statement with its bittersweet edges and lets it linger between them in the quiet confines of the hospital room. 

“He hasn’t replaced you. If that’s what you are worried about.”

“I’m not worried-“

Another stern look from his father has Seonghwa closing his mouth. 

“This is what parenting is like. It’s a series of goodbyes until the very last and final goodbye. You’ve done a good job with him Seonghwa, so much so that he feels brave enough to finally committ to a friendship after all these years. This is what you had hoped for isn’t it?”

And Seonghwa knows he should count it as a success. That this project, this mission, for San to finally connect and open up to someone that isn’t just him, has finally been completed. 

It’s a success, it just barely feels like one. In seven months he’ll be leaving, but right now, he’s the one that feels left behind. 

“The melancholy is bittersweet. But your bird must fly the coop. As does mine.”

It doesn’t make Seonghwa feel any better. 

“You’ll make sure he’s alright? You and NASA. When I’m gone.”

“Of course.”

With heavy footsteps Seonghwa leaves the hospital once again. It’s early sunset outside, the sky pale blue with swirls of pink, visible even through the dust haze. It’s almost peaceful, if not for the anxiety on his mind. 

[oh-hush-its-perfect]

do you think there is any significance that alex's colour scheme is green and pink? or do you think rr went "u know what this character needs? to look like a watermelon"

((Prefacing this by saying that I'm giving RR way too much credit here, but you shouldn't take anything an author does for granted— even a serial author who often makes blunders and mistakes.))

A while ago I saw a (pretty unfair) assumption that RR made it green and pink because blue and pink would be too obvious, but that his intention was obviously to reinforce the gender binary by using two distinctly gendered colors for a character with two distinct genders. Of course, they did not phrase it so delicately. No offense to whoever made that post, but I disagree.

Although that may have had to do with it, there's other things to consider. One of them is color symbolism. And oh. OH. I ADORE symbolism— especially flower/plant symbolism (Language of the Flowers and all that jazz), seasonal symbolism (there's a reason that evermore is my second favorite Taylor Swift album), and color symbolism.

GREEN

Let's talk about green first. Green can symbolize a lot of different things, and there are a few that can be applied to Alex's character. The most obvious thing that green often represents is jealousy— hence the expression "green with envy." But envy is not really one of Alex's character traits. Feel free to argue with me if you think that Alex is significantly envious. Just because I couldn't think of substantial textual evidence for it does not mean that there isn't any.

One of the traits that Alex does have is wealth. Green is the color of American currency, and since both RR and Alex are American, it's safe to take an American lens while looking at this color. Alex's socioeconomic background effects her in a big way. I mentioned in a previous post that I think that Alex's fatal flaw is her sense of entitlement. That kind of entitlement is a quality not exclusive to but common among the upper class. However, her distance from her wealthy background enhances the sense of irony in the story, which is a VERY big thing that we NEVER talk about within the fandom.

This is kind of a little thing, but it's worth noting that when it comes to Valhalla and everything, Alex is "green"— as in new and inexperienced.

The color green also emphasizes Alex's connection with nature. This is one of the parts of Alex's character that the fandom consistently underplays, which is an absolute shame. I don't think I have to explain why the color green is associated with all things natural. Alex's association with nature provides a few key things to her character:

It makes her a more well-rounded character. Another criticism of Alex I believe is totally unfounded is that "being genderfluid is her only personality trait because it influences her philosophy on pottery, which is her only hobby." I'm probably going to make another post in, like, a few minutes about why I find that argument a little silly, but the primary problem is that pottery is not Alex's only hobby. She also loves camping, hiking, and ice wall climbing (I bet y'all forgot about that last one!)

It gives her a connection with Magnus. I mentioned in a previous post that Magnus and Alex are foils, but I neglected to bring up why that also makes for very good chemistry between them. Of course, yes, they have different goals and philosophy, which is what makes them foils in the first place. But foil relationships function best when the characters also share some traits. As it turns out, Alex and Magnus share several hobbies, and one of them is a mutual love for nature. This is a very unexplored thing in fics. Start doing it more plz.

Finally, and this one's kind of minor, but the Alex's green gives her a connection to Natalie. I know, whenever Alex and Natalie are compared, either in canon or in fandom, everybody kind goes "eww. Oedipus complex." Which is very fair and true. But they really do have a lot of similarites. The green of Alex's hair and clothes connects her to the green of Natalie's eyes. It's worth saying, too, that Alex has one amber eye— and amber is pretty close to dirty blonde, like Natalie's hair.

If I had more faith in RR, I might bring up the concept of intextuality and how Alex wearing green is an allusion to The Great Gatsby and how Alex is elusive to Magnus, just like Daisy is to Gatsby. But I don't.

PINK

To give credit to the person who wrote the post I mentioned at the beginning of this spiel, I do believe that part of the reason pink was used was to support femininity. Please keep in mind that Alex dresses in an androgynous way— not that there is an actually "gendered" way to dress, since gender as we perceive it is mostly made up. But Alex's existence as a transfemme person (which I will maintain until my dying day) means that pink has a certain significance to her. A lot of AMAB people embrace traditionally feminine things because if they don't, they will not be accepted as genuine women or genuine nonbinary folks, since masculine dress is unisex and kind of the default. So Alex wearing pink probably had something to do with her gender, yes. But that's not necessarily a bad thing, and it's certainly not an unrealistic thing.

Speaking of Alex's gender in relation to the color pink, let's talk about pink's use as a queer rights symbol. Alex was RR's first character to be introduced as a queer character from the start. This was not an insignificant thing, especially in the year of our Lord 2016 (which, despite popular belief, seriously had an entirely different landscape of queer rep. Though it's commonplace now to include genderqueer characters, it was exceptional at the time— especially by such an accomplished and mainstream children's author.).

Let's go back in time to Nazi Germany. Some of you might know this, but for those of you don't this transition must seem jarring. I swear there's a point. In addition to Jews, Romani individuals, people with disabilities, and Poles (among others), gay men were victimized by the Nazis. If you're wondering why lesbians weren't persecuted, it's because the Nazis didn't see them as a serious political threat, or as a threat to the perpetuation of the Aryan race since they assumed gay women could be forcefully impregnated if need be. Yeah, ew. Anyway, much like the Star of David being used to mark Jewish people, gay men were forced into concentration camps and forced to wear a pink triangle. Years later, after the gay population somewhat recovered, the pink triangle was reclaimed and used as a symbol for gay men. Some people who were not gay men used it, too, but that's somewhat controversial since it wasn't their symbol to reclaim. When the first pride flag was created, it had a pink stripe at the top to signify sex (this was later dropped so flags could be more easily produced). The pink triangle (inverted) was used during the AIDs epidemic with the caption "Silence=Death."

My point is that this is a very important color to queer folks. Having one of the first genderfluid characters in kid's lit wear pink...... I mean, it makes sense.

The last and final thing that pink represents, in this context and in general, is innocence. Granted, this kind of connects to feminitity since women (especially white women) are often infantalized and seen as innocent— which is another issue. In any case, the use of pink to represent innocence in Alex's dress is ironic. Alex has been robbed of her childhood innocence, first by her abusive parents, then by her life on the streets, and then by her eventual death at age sixteen. But then she actually regains her innocence. At the beginning of the—

Hold on. I just had a revelation. I'll make a post about it soon.

At the beginning of SotD, Alex is acting a little childish. The most obvious example is him jumping on Randolph's bed to "make noise." Alex's life is stable and relatively healthy for the first time in the years, and she experiences something that a lot of queer folks experience: a re-emergence of childhood at a late stage.

I imagine you didn't expect a post this long. I either make essay responses to asks or I add on one sentence and post it. Oops. Anyway, I believe the mcga fandom can be more creative than calling Alex a watermelon. Here are some other (kinda romantic) pink-and-green alternatives:

Roses

Dragonfruit

Grapefruit

Cherry blossom trees

[godzillerd]

Resident Evil 8 AU Pt 2: Parenthood Boogaloo??

Former Post Here

To summarize: Ethan takes deal. Miranda goes boom. Village goes boom. Chris is like this is serious. Heisenberg is like no baby for me pls. Ethan is like yeah no absolutely no baby for him pls. Chris is like sorry but baby for him. Didn’t even get a baby shower. Fucking brutal. Hate this place.

RIP pls forgive this obnoxiously long post that will never become a cohesive fic.

Why am I like this. 

My life is a sea of regrets.

Seriously though forgive how all over the place this is - it is literally me vomiting thoughts for sport.

Immediately after leaving the village (what was left of it) Heisenberg headed west with Rose. 

As expected, it took a matter of hours for the Duke to show up bearing gifts. Not much, mind you, but enough. 

He even allowed Heisenberg to start running a tab, despite quibbling that it was a bad business practice. 

For the first year, they were completely off the grid with zero contact with the rest of the world, usually living in ramshackle hunting cabins in the forests of whatever country they happened to be in at the time. Hungary, Austria, Slovenia, and eventually Switzerland. 

Not requiring food or water himself, caring for Rose was relatively easy with some help from Duke. Heisenberg became an old hand at building fires out of nothing.

The whole baby thing did not come naturally to him. In fact, it took over six months for Heisenberg to have any kind of clue as to why the potato might be screaming this time. 

He came very close to just killing it and fending for himself, but after seeing what Rose did to Miranda... it was enough to make anyone hesitant. 

Around eight months in, Duke showed up with a new present: A cell phone. And a secure number. And a delicate observation that Ethan Winters might actually kill Heisenberg if he didn’t call soon. 

Calls with Ethan were an infrequent thing. Ethan passed along pertinent information, but being under heavy monitoring, he didn’t have a lot of private time. 

Heisenberg had less of an excuse, and just genuinely didn’t like Ethan. 

Despite being told about it specifically, Heisenberg missed Rose’s first and second birthdays. She didn’t seem to mind. Ethan did.

Around then, it became obvious that living in the woods, completely cut off from humanity, wasn’t going to work out well for a growing child. 

Did you know electromagnetic energy can really fuck up a bank machine? 

Heisenberg (well, Duke) found a reasonable, small cottage on the outskirts of a village in the south of France. He put together a decent little business selling metalwork crafts that were simple (for him) to build, but could sell for high profit. Horses were a bit of a specialty.

Became the local backwoods crazy rural uncle who can fix anything using anything. 

Ethan managed to pull enough strings to buy himself a four hour window while in France for unrelated business to visit Rose for the first time just before she turned three. 

They agreed to meet in a town about an hour south as Ethan had ‘security concerns’. 

ie. He and Chris both doubted Heisenberg’s ability to blend into a crowd. 

To prove a point because he’s a petty bitch, Heisenberg walked Rose past Ethan five times while Ethan was waiting around for them. Ethan only noticed them when Heisenberg said his name. 

Shaving, showering, a haircut, and new clothes can do a lot for a man. 

Rose did not recognize Ethan and was extremely reluctant to speak to him at all. Eventually, she was coaxed into introducing herself as “Rosalie-Elise”. For reasons beyond Heisenberg’s comprehension, this seemed to have a profound emotional effect on Ethan. 

Aside from occasional visits from Ethan (usually every year or two) it was mostly Heisenberg and Rose against the world. 

Duke did roll through, though less frequently than when they were actively fleeing the village. He was incredibly fond of Rose, after all.

Until Rose turned three, Heisenberg largely saw her as a nuisance - something he was obligated to keep alive for his own sake. 

When she was three, and shortly after they settled in the French House, Rose began picking up on Heisenberg’s mannerisms. Speaking like him, sitting like him, trying to mimic everything he did on a smaller scale...

Overnight she went from a nuisance to the apple of his goddamn eye. 

Heisenberg rarely called Rose by her name unless it was serious. More often than not, she’s ‘Kid’ or ‘Blondie’

By the time she started school, Rose could dismantle, repair, and reassemble most standard engines (with a bit of help). She was also shaping up to be a mean little welder.

She also picked up a bad habit of swearing (fortunately, only in English)

Rose was raised speaking French almost exclusively, and her English was heavily accented. Heisenberg learned it with great difficulty, but became fluent by speaking only French for years.

Despite being happier by himself, cut off from other people, Heisenberg deliberately put in the effort to appear as ‘normal’ as possible. 

He never claimed to be Rose’s father - to her or to anyone else. Instead, he called himself her crazy uncle and left the gossip-mongers to come up with a story about her parents. 

Ethan was mockingly referred to as ‘Brother’ every time he called or visited, though. 

When Rose was six, Heisenberg gave her a watered-down version of what happened in the village. 

Watered down for him, at least. 

Rose had nightmares for six months. 

In the midst of that fun time, Ethan gave them a warning that the BSAA was starting to suspect something, so they up and disappeared in one night. 

This pattern continued for years, destroying any chance of Rose having a ‘normal’ childhood. 

Despite that, she developed a startlingly good mindset about things. Influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew up with a tendency towards independence and isolation, with a hell of a lot of self-confidence and pride to boot. She never particularly enjoyed being around other children, even when she had the opportunity. She preferred staying close to Heisenberg whether it was necessary or not. 

Being an obnoxiously touch-motivated brat, Rose spent most of her childhood hanging off his neck, or flopped over his shoulders, or literally hugging him while he was juggling hot metal. Heisenberg gave up caring when she was about four and by the time she was five he didn’t really notice it at all. He often sprawled on the couch just so the kid could nap on him and catch up on sleep. 

After learning the truth about the village, Rose never did sleep particularly well at night - especially not alone in her room. Most nights, Heisenberg would sit next to her bed until she fell asleep. Sometimes even all night. 

Again, likely influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew to dislike Ethan as time wore on. Despite her solid relationship with Heisenberg, most of their arguments were about Rose seeing Ethan. 

Heisenberg understood that their safety relied on Ethan being on good terms with both of them. Rose “didn’t give a fuck”

They reached a compromise eventually that Ethan was only ever promised one hour with Rose. If she wanted to leave after that, it was her choice. Similarly, Heisenberg let her set the boundaries about hugs and calling Ethan her father. 

Needless to say, Ethan stopped getting hugs by the time Rose was ten, and he was never called her dad. 

On the other side of things, Rose adored the Duke just as much as he adored her. Whenever Duke was in their neck of the woods, he made a special point to track them down in order to give Rose extravagant gifts. 

Puberty was a hell of a time.

A hell of a time

Rose manifested a massive amount of power in the span of six months when she was thirteen. Around the same time she discovered her love of girls, teenage rebellion, and sticking it to the man.

During one rip-roaring fight when she was fourteen, Rose sent Heisenberg through not one, nor two, nor even three walls. She sent him through five.

Somehow, that incident was enough to curb the rising tide of teenage hormones and got them both back on track.

Heisenberg always struggled with knowing how much or how little to tell Rose about their predicament. On one hand, Ethan hated the idea and thought it would destroy her entire childhood. On the other hand, Heisenberg disliked the idea of lying to the kid. 

Eventually, circumstances were such that there was no choice but to tell Rose everything in order to stay safe. By the time she was twelve, she had a pretty good idea about everything that had happened in the past. 

Mostly because Ethan assumed he wouldn’t do it, Heisenberg also told her all about himself.

Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly, after so many years) it didn’t change much. She tried to use it as ammunition during a few teenage tantrums, but when she realized it didn’t phase him, it was never really brought up again. 

[shallicomparetheetolagrenouille]

2022 in books

I discovered I like Sellerio’s collections of detective stories - that’s it, I’m done. This is my new addiction. I already own Una notte in giallo and I already have Un anno in giallo and Una giornata in giallo in my sights. Help?

For context: Sellerio Editore is very well know in Italy for its excellent selection of mystery and detective story authors, the most famous of whom is Andrea Camilleri. They have this very recognizable editorial collection of books in the format you can see above: small, dark blue, with a picture or painting in the middle square and amazing paper for its pages (it smells amazing). One of the cutest phrases I read about Sellerio is that the format is so iconic and the content so reliable that the Italian word for detective story (”giallo”, meaning yellow, because in the 30′s a well-known publisher, Mondadori, started selling a very popular collection of detective stories all with a yellow cover) should become “blu”.

Sellerio regularly publishes this type of collection, with eight to ten of their authors all providing a story with a common theme: in this case, they need to solve a mystery in exactly one week. The titles of the installments of this series are a play on “in giallo” = in yellow. A week in yellow, a night in yellow (each story takes up only one night), a year in yellow (twelve stories, each one in one month from January to December), the holidays in yellow (either the detectives/protagonists or the victims are on holiday at the time of the crime), New Year’s Eve in yellow and so on.

My favorites of the stories in Una settimana in giallo have been:

Alessandro Robecchi’s story, which made me find out the lovely Monterossi mini series on Amazon Prime and convinced me to go buy at least a couple of his books (during the next Sellerio sale, next August - I swear I’ve resisted up to now!); the protagonist is a TV content writer (despite his wishes) and, with his actual-detective-friends, he is tasked with finding a reluctant heir to a furtune; all of Robecchi’s books with Monterossi as a protagonist are noirs set in Milan and, if the miniseries is even remotely close to the first two novels, they are delightful. The style is ironic and quick, a pleasure to read and I am definitely hooked

Santo Piazzese‘s idea was a nice detour from the usual organized crime storiline - it was the funniest story of the bunch, incredibly enough, considering the theme! Basically an up-and-coming mafia family use their influence to have a girl employed as a cook in a restaurant long-loved by the protagonist, Lorenzo La Marca (a university biology professor in Palermo), and owned by an old friend of his - except, she’s terrible at it but she has this idea of being a misunderstood genius and the owner cannot get rid of her without fearing repercussions on his restaurant; basically, La Marca finds a way to get her own relatives to remove her from the restaurant and the ending is particularly satisfying for a little mention of a certain character

Fabio Stassi’s search of missing characters from novels. His protagonist, Vince Corso (not a detective, but a psichologist who treats people by prescribing specific books depending on what ails them), falls asleep and dreams of meeting a dead author, who got a leave of absence from Heaven to come back for a few days and help Corso find the characters who started disappearing from books in protest, so they find, for the announced closing of a little library nearby, in Rome. They also find the time to go be interviewed by Fabio Fazio at Che tempo che fa, but only after saying hello to a very friendly Robert De Niro and starting a brawl

The other stories featured actual investigators/policemen or the usual curious-journalist/writer-who-finds-death-wherever-they-go or random people solving small-scale mysteries. Some were more entertaining than others, but the the three above are totally the winners, for me.

A remarkable thing that was actually very touching is the final editor’s note: this is the first “in giallo” collection designed and published after Camilleri’s death and, to honor him, all authors were asked to slip a reference to him or his work in their stories: sometimes it’s the name of a book, sometimes his most famous police commissioner, Montalbano, is mentioned (or disappears from his own novels), other times it���s a quote (book titles slipped in the dialogue or hidden quotes). That was so sweet!

Anyway, I got hooked both by the format (the stories in this are 50 to 70 pages long, more or less, so readable in a quiet lunch break) and by how this lets you have a little taste of authors’ writing style, so that you can see if you would actually like their novels (I am so glad I never picked up Savatteri’s stuff!). So expect to see more pictures like this in the future!

[hibisha]

Hello, a friend of yours said you might be able to recommend some radiodust fanfics, and it can be anything im not picky

RadioDust fanfics you say? Alright *cracks knuckles* here we go.

1.) The Charismatic Cannibal’s Guide to Self Care

Rating: E

Summary: Alastor chuckled around a hand. Angel would never get over how shark-like he could look. Fangs were the norm here, but Alastor’s had a certain animal quality that fit strangely in a humanoid face. Too big and too many. And right now they were tinged with a hint of red from his choice of drink.

“So what,” he said, “would liven up the place for you, sport?”

You might assume that Angel Dust is the bad influence in every situation. You would be wrong.

The Radio Demon has plans for Hell, and plans for Angel. And they aren't pretty.

Will contain gore/cannibalism/murder and plenty of fun, bad people. Please read the tags and content warning. Plot now, smut to follow.

Personal thoughts: It only one chapter so far but I really like the premise.

2.) Their Arrangement

Rating: E

Summary: Alastor and Angel Dust have come to an agreement after Angel pushes the Radio Demon's buttons a little too far and inadvertently awakens the long forgotten urges buried under decades of bloodlust.

Personal thoughts: One of my literal favorites. Alastor and Angel’s evolving relationship from sex friends to ‘oh shit I have feelings’ *chef’s kiss*.

3.) Absolute Territory

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust is an absolute terror for Absolute Territory.

Alastor never knew he had a thing for stockings until Angel decides to flaunt a pair, matched with a pleated skirt and an oversized sweatshirt.

Personal thoughts: Have some good ol’ smut.

4.) Heart Between His Teeth

Rating: E

Summary: So maybe there are better things to life than being drugged and fucked so hard you can't even think for yourself.

Personal thoughts: OMFG. I CAN NOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS FIC.

5.) Angel Dust’s Not So Illustrious Life

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor isn’t sure why he’s become Angel’s primary target, but the more he attempts to dissuade Angel’s advances, the more fervent they seem to become.

And maybe Alastor likes that...maybe...Yet it seems there’s more to Angel than innuendos and a quick romp.

Personal thoughts: I kinda love this fic a lot where Angel and Alastor respect each other’s boundaries.

6.) Caught In His Own Web

Rated:E

Summary: "So when the devil wants to dance with you, you better say never. Because the dance with the devil might last you forever."

Redemption is hard when you don't want to do it. Redemption is even harder when a certain Radio Demon keeps enabling your sinful behavior.

Personal thoughts: My favourite trope, bad people being worse together.

7.) I Thought I Knew You 

Rated: M

Summary: Angel Dust can't ruin the hotel's reputation if he can't go outside. Or, at least, that's what Alastor says. Of course, it's all a ploy to torture Alastor's least favorite spider demon, but maybe he doesn't know Angel Dust as well as he thinks he does.

Personal thoughts: I really like this one especially since it feeds into my “Alastor is a dick in all AUs.”

8.) Sex, drugs and radio host

Rating: E

Summary: For some ungodly reason, Alastor decides to keep Angel safe and sound - meaning no sex, prostitution and certainly no drugs. Of course, this wild idea is met with more than a little resistance. But... no one ever cared if Angel was safe. And sometimes, all he would like is a hug. Sex sure is nice, but he is more than willing to explore the possibilities.

The trouble is, it doesn't seem like Alastor is offering anything specific. Keeping things strange and vague is not helping, especially when a new guest catches Alastor's attention.

Personal thoughts: Its cute and theres feelings involved is all I’m saying.

9.) Gentleman's Wager 

Rating: None

Summary: Sick of listening to Angel Dust's crass and vulgar language, Alastor makes a bet with him. If Angel Dust can remain absolutely silent for one whole week, he'll give in and kiss him.

Personal thoughts: *inhales* JVKJGCHJCHJCVJHVJHGCJHCJHCGFD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH PLEASE READ IT.

10.) Triggered 

Rating: None

Summary: Angel Dust had never really thought too much about the static hum surrounding Alastor wherever he went... until now anyway.

Personal thoughts: It's a very good fic about ANgel dealing with PTSD. Def check it out.

11.) Dinner and Drinks 

Rating: None

Summary: Alastor and Angel Dust can barely tolerate each other and Charlie seeks to fix that.

Personal thoughts: Again, a slow development of Angel and Alastor’s relationship.

12.) You Do Something to Me 

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor's radio signals go both ways, and for the past few decades he's tuned into the most beautiful voice. What a surprise to find the source in the Happy Hotel right under his nose.

A relationship that grows through music.

Personal thoughts: AGAIN, PLEASE READ THIS IT IS CUTE HECK AND WILL CLEAR YOUR SKIN. Also, its part 2: No One Knows Anything But Us 

13.) 1932

Rating: M

Summary: The 1930s are the for perfect time to nurture any up-and-coming radio host or serial killer alike. Alastor is no exception.

Set in New Orleans in 1932, Alastor is living his best life. Broadcaster by day and home chef by night, he's learned that Jumbalaya is best served with a side of human liver and a still beating heart. That is until he brings the wrong meal to his table, a member of the Italian mafia, and ends up biting off more than he can chew.

With his latest meal escaping the table and his identity running the risk of being found out, Alastor faces his biggest hunt yet. The streets of New Orleans are his forest and this time, it's his head on the platter.

AKA Alastor screws up and now has to fix his mess in Dixieland while balancing his day job, cannibalistic hunger, and learn how to be a decent human being for once along the way. Should be fun.

Personal thoughts: I absolutely adore this fic. Please give it a shot.

14.) Contracts and Deals Series

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust, Hell's number one porn actor.

Alastor, Hell's most renowned overlord.

The two cross paths.

Angel makes a deal with Alastor to get out of his contract with Valentino. One thing leads to another.

Personal thoughts: It’s a good series that eventually gets really fluffy.

15.) Good Management

Rating: M

Summary: Alastor thought he had Angel Dust filed away into his niche box in the Hotel. He was wrong. But he's a good enough manager to fix his responsibilities.

Personal thoughts: Its AngeliaDark. You know it’s good.

16.) Anything for you

Rating: M

Summary: Valentino faces the consequences of hurting someone that Alastor deeply favors

i.e. Val fucking dies

Personal thoughts: Any fic where Val dies is a good fic.

17.) Predator and Prey

Rating: M

Summary: Every couple of years, Angel Dust goes through a change that makes him a lot less tolerable to be around, for many more reasons than one. The staff of the Hotel are about to learn that the hard way, none more so than Alastor.

Personal thoughts: Okay so, slight dubcon, would recommend checking the tags before going into it. Though I love how it tackles on the story of Alastor being a deer which is technically a prey animal and Angel being the predator for once. Absolutely love it.

18.) Good Tidings 

Rating: T

Summary: A Christmas party in Hell isn't the big selling point for the Happy Hotel (For Hazbins), but Charlie feels that the holiday season is just what her friends need to open up to and help one another.

So what better way to do it than with a Secret Santa?

When Angel Dust draws none other than his crush, the Radio Demon, he knows he has one shot to not eff it up.

Personal thoughts: Really fluffy, a good read. Highly recommend it.

19.) Vanilla Bean

Rating: T

Summary: Alastor decides to try his hand at pet names and inadvertently offends Angel Dust. Rated T for swearing and there's suggestive content if you close one eye, tilt your head, and squint.

Personal thoughts: Okay so i loved this one because of how badly these two handle communication.

20.) For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear

Rating: M

Summary: Alastor's solitude is interrupted by Angel Dust who has just escaped a rough client and the two spend the last moments of 2019 together.

Personal thoughts: Love love love this. I just love Angel and Alastor dancing together okay.

21.) I Like It Better When I'm With You 

 Rating: M

Summary: Angel deals with feelings. Alastor deals with feelings. Just a whole lot of pining.

Personal thoughts: Summary says it all.

22.) Technical Difficulties

Rating: M

Summary: The hotel is running relatively well. Relationships between Alastor and the rest of the staff are budding surprisingly smoothly. And then the rainfall starts up, threatening all of it.

Alastor's out of tune.

Personal thoughts: I love how this is written. Slowburn but worth it.

23.) Lurking in the Shadows 

Rated M

Summary: 5 instances where a curious and head-over-heels shadow follows Angel Dust around and 1 time where Angel decides to follow it instead.

Personal thoughts: It’s very cute how Alastor’s shadow pines after Angel.

24.) Crossroads

Rating: M

Summary: A mafioso’s and a murderous radio star’s paths collide in New Orleans in the winter of 1933.

Personal thoughts: OKAY SO I REALLY LOVE THIS BECAUSE HUMAN AUS ARE MY JAM AND THEN ALASTOR AND ANGEL BEING TERRIBLE HUMANS TOGETHER IS EVEN BETTER.

25.) Needle Through a Bug

Rating: E

Summary: Angel wakes up in a hospital after a party. His doctor is very strange, worryingly so. Still, he can't help but be intrigued.

Personal thoughts: Doctor AU. Alastor is insane. I love it because Alastor manages to be as creepy as possible while saving lives.

26.) My Roommate's a Demonic Deer 

 Rating: M

Summary: Don't you hate it when you "accidentally" summon a demon to fix a problem within your home, only to find out that they don't do that, so now you're stuck with a cannibalistic demon that constantly tracks blood onto the floor, brings other unholy beings into your apartment, and makes amazing jambalaya? It's amazing insanity!

Personal thoughts: Lmao I love demon summoning gone wrong so this was really an amazing read. Angel being a true himbo is always the best.

27.) Human Hazbin Roommates AU series

Rating: E, M

Summary: A series of porny RadioDust one-shots depicting modern human AU roommate life.

Notes:

Glimpses into the human lives of insufferable roommates.

(AKA This was supposed to be a practice at writing present tense smut and it devolved into sex and feelings)

Personal thoughts: Dive in for the smut, come out with the feels.

28: Darker Side of Hell series

Rating: E

Summary: Follow Charlie and later Alastor as part of my Story for the Hazbin hotel... It ain't pretty, so enjoy!

Personal thoughts: Not everyone’s cup of tea so i suggest reading the tags but I really love this series a lot. Angel being awkward and in love is the best shit ever. Its an amazing series.

29.) Scorched, Uninhabited, Rejected

Rating: M

Summary: When Hell suddenly loses all working functions, and angels start dropping from their overhead perches to attack the underworlds population, Charlie has no idea what to do before she's suddenly face to face with a Archangel. Though something, clearly, isn't right about the air the angel assures her to keep those who are dear tucked tightly by her side as the disaster struggles to fix itself.

But nothing is as it seems, Overlords' powers are dwindling and even her own is becoming strained as she struggles to protect her beloved hotel and friends from the Exterminators outside.

Personal thoughts: *vibrates* Can’t say much without spoilers so I’m just gonna beg ya all to read this.

30.) The Thin Line

Rating: None

Summary: Studies say it takes fifty hours of interaction before you consider someone a casual friend and two hundred to be a close friend. Alastor and Angel Dust manage to skip right past close friends to something more without either even noticing they've crossed the line.

31.) La Vie En Rose

Rating: G

Summary: Alastor learns that Angel is afraid of thunderstorms, and Angel in turn learns about the Radio Demon.

32.) falling 

Rating: M

Summary: "You're hot as fuck, be my boyfriend."

That was perhaps the worst thing he could've possibly said from that standpoint.

A college setting where Angel gets suddenly awful at flirting when it comes to the face of his crush, a cute library assistant that goes by Alastor.

Personal thoughts: COLLEGE AU COLLEGE AU. 

33.) Old Habits Die Hard

Rating: G

Summary: Angel decides to bring back a little habit of his after having a rough time.

Personal thoughts: Hella soft, please read.

34.) Handwritten 

Rating: None

Summary: Alastor imagines Angel must be lonely in heaven, he writes to keep him company.

 A series of letters addressed to Angel.

Personal thoughts: Hi, do you like crying into your pillow at 2 AM? You do? The look no further, this is the fic for you! Now, with extra heart wrenching feels!

35.) Relapse and Recovery

Rating: T

Summary: Going clean was never going to be easy, but easy was something Angel Dust never expected going into this anyway. At least he has a good support system to help him along the way.

Personal thoughts: I just really like AngeliaDark’s fics okay.

36.) Catalyst

Rating: T

Summary: All couples have their downfalls, and an event that should have been celebrated only drives Alastor and Angel Dust apart.

Personal thoughts: Love love love this. It’s very well written, reads easy and you’ll feel fluffy for days.

37.) Dinner Date: A RadioDust Tale

Rating: E

Summary: Angel Dust finally finds a way to get Alastor to agree to a 'date'. After all, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Sometimes literally.

Personal thoughts: One of my favourite stories about RadioDust.

38.) This One's Dedicated to [static interruption]

Rating: M

Summary: A couple of years since the hotel's opening, the residents have settled down into a fairly tolerable routine. Recently, some of them have begun experiencing peculiar symptoms which become more noticeable as time passes. To his dismay, the Radio Demon finds that he is not immune.

A chance encounter with Angel Dust propels the two demons together as they attempt to answer what's behind the unusual phenomena, while rediscovering all the things they thought dead and buried along the way.

Personal thoughts: Slowburn but definitely worth it. I love the story and how it’s progressing with a certain mystery surrounding the whole plot.

Also slight self plug I guess:

39.) 14 ways to say “I Love You”

Rating: T

Summary: Just a collection of small drabbles I’m writing on based on single word prompts.

Please check it out if you’re a fan of odd AUs.

Wowee, that’s a lot. I’m gonna call it a night and say that’s all for today. I hope you enjoy these! 

[theficplug]

l Next Lifetime l Erik Killmonger l

previous chapters: l part 1 l  part 2 

erik kilmonger x black reader

warnings: none, but the usual 18+ for the eventual smut and a possible tw for grief but i promise it gets better and its a romcom

synopsis: reader grieves Erik until she doesn’t (i’m trying not give too much away). This one is a long filler sort of chapter before it really starts to pick up in part 4 and onward. So, grab you a snack and something to drink! I hope y’all like it. 

l part 3 l 

It’s been a few days and a few more hangovers than you’d care to count later and you were back in Oakland debating whether or not you should meet N’Jadaka later this afternoon. 

 In two weeks you and N’Jadaka had a thread of about 300 messages talking about everything from the political state of the country, which aisle you shop on first,  and if you want children down the line. 

The only time you two stopped talking is when he said that Death Note was the best anime and you had to agree to disagree. The silent treatment only lasted 15 minutes before he called and said he already missed the sound of your voice and the ding of the alarm from your messages.

There was something in the nuance of getting to know him this time that made everything seem so bittersweet. 

You sit at your desk in your office tapping the pen rapidly while searching stories and videos of reincarnation and the spirit.

According to Google you were either losing your mind or either really blessed/lucky. 

It'd be like dating someone new and starting all over but not? Because he's your Erik but he's not your Erik. 

According to West Hylan an author who swears up and down that he's on his second life. There would be pieces of their past life that they will find in the things that they do or how they feel. But for the most part their past life/lives will feel like a distant dream.

You closed the tabs and rubbed at your temples trying to make sense of it all.

"Alright, Alright . It's just a walk around the park eating $2 hot dogs.  It can't be that hard. " you say to yourself before looking up at your work wife Marley coming in with a huge smile watched across her face. 

Marley had bushy eyebrows, a giant crown of 4c hair framing her face, beautiful hazel doe eyes, and striking cheekbones. She modeled part time but recently took a step back to work with you to tackle the encouragement of cosmetic work and disordered eating within the "influencer" industry. 

 She sparked a new wing in your center that runs seminars and self love summer camps for any girl/young woman that wants to attend. Free of charge with food and activities.

"Guess who just passed her final exam? You're looking at a licensed counselor baaabbyyy! 5 ½ shitty years of University and it's finally a wrap." She announces as her heels click on the floor on her way to your desk. 

She stops in her tracks as she sees the look on your face and raises her brows.

"Uh- uh, I know that look, what's up boss lady?" She asks and you shake your head.

"Nothing. Literally nothing, just me being overly anxious because I have...a date. Congratulations! I am so proud of you. You're so multi-talented and smart. This is only the beginning!" You congratulate her and she beams with happiness and pride before sitting down at the desk. 

"First off , thank you, it really does mean a lot coming from you. Secondly, it's normal to be nervous for a first date. Especially considering all that you've gone through in the last year. But if you like him, you owe it to yourself to at least give it a shot. Do I know him? Is he new ?" She asks inquisitively as she grabs a handful of the jellybeans from your desk.

"He, he's an old friend. And I'm just-things are different now and I'm feeling like maybe there will be some sort of disconnect there." You admit, worried that even though by some magical occurrence happening you had him back in your life but he was still a relatively brand new person with free will. 

What if the vibe just isn't there.

"That's just it. He's an old friend and this is new. You've probably got some old memories and moments but the time that you've both spent apart means that you're both different. Sure we value old experiences because nostalgia makes us see everything through rose colored glasses. We can be thankful for those times but it's time to make new memories. Time waits for no one. Hell, as much as you do around here you deserve some time to be all loved on." She says laughing softly and walks around your desk to pull you into a hug.

"I'm honestly so thankful for you Marley."

--------------------------------------------------------

"Be open to new experiences. Be open to new experiences" you repeat the mantra to yourself when your phone dings.

Daka-Stevens: I got us a spot for the fireworks and lantern festival🎆🏮

You smile softly at the text before remembering that the fireworks might be a trigger for him like before.

Sounds good… Do you think fireworks are too loud?👋🏾

Daka-Stevens: no not really but if u r  sound sensitive. aint no problem. We can find sumn else to get into.👍🏾

No no. It's perfect.. see you in 20 ♥️

"I'm trying a new recipe and I need you to be honest on how this tastes. Cause I'm trying this at the restaurant tomorrow and Kathy be on my ass about creating the same foods. Gumbo. Try. Please?" Tika asks while walking into your room

"Just in time . Right before I put on my lipstick. I'm feeling like this top and skirt is clashing. I'm gonna go look on Iri's rack." You say after tasting her Gumbo. "It tastes good to me! Add a lil crab boil for a kick."

"Crab boil, of course. Also I'm sure she has a red dress with this billowy kinda sleeve. That would look mad cute on you." She advised and you nod before heading over to her rack in the living room.

"I'm gonna pretend like you're not going through my Fall 2020 collection. Good afternoon to you all. I am in a fabulous mood. Guess who's microaggressive ass editor got fiiirreed." Iri announces walking through the door and snatching off her heels 

"And I'm gonna pretend that you and Tika are moving the furniture around in your room at 2 am…. What happened?" You ask laughing and Tika drops her spoon on the floor before she turns around fast enough to give herself whiplash.

"How do you know about that? Look, I don't want things to be weird. Its gonna throw off the dynamic of our friendship . Like we're the 3 musketeers if the 3 becomes 2 then the 1 feels left out and you're our 1. You know we love you right?" Tika babbles and you shake your head while throwing up your hands

"Teeks , I know, and honestly I've been waiting for this for about a year. You two are the cutest and my best friends. And I want the best for both of you. You are the best for each other." You say to them and Iri calls for a group hug 

“Now let’s get you sorted because hun cause I know Iri has something cute somewhere on this thing.” Tika says as she puts the turns off the stove. 

“Fine. FINE. But you can NOT damage this outfit in any way. I haven’t even shown it to the team yet.” Iri says before helping you both.

20 minutes later and your girls are giving you the once over before N’Jadaka/Erik arrives.

“Teeth check. Pit check , Location tracker on. Breath check . She has gumbo breath. We can't send her out with gumbo breath. Iri, spearmint me. Whew okay. She's ready." Tika says right on time as N’Jadaka knocks at the door. 

“Hey , damn I'm lucky. You look beautiful! These are for you.” N’Jadaka says leaning in to kiss your cheek.

Why does this man smell so goddamn good ? That’s a man. Oh, shit. Is that Chrysanthemums? You think to yourself as you sneeze loudly

“You know that I’m aller-. Thank you, I’ll just put these over there.” you say sneezing again and quickly sitting them on the table. 

“Okay, ready to go. Have fun y’all. Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.” Iri calls after you.

“So everything then?” you retort playfully before blowing her a kiss and she teasingly gives you the middle finger. 

---------------------------------------------------

“So Pen thought it was “cute” but Khalil roasted the fuck outta me. “Talking bout some “she don’t live on a prairie nigga take her somewhere special.” I wanted to surprise you with a picnic. Lina helped me put it together and stuff. I got fruits, we got surf and turf with the lobster tails and steak, and we have German chocolate cake. Mike wanted to talk shit and then tried to ask Lina to help him make one for a damn tinder date.” he says nervously rambling on the way to the festival. 

“I really like it. I think it’s so thought out and who doesn’t love a good surf and turf? Khalil's just hating cause he aint think of it first. I think it’s kinda cute that you ramble when you’re nervous , Mr. Calm , Cool, and Collected.” you say to him as he parks the car and starts your things.

“Who wouldn’t be nervous around somebody that looked like you?” he asks leaning against his cherry red car with the wicker basket in his hand.

“Alright, Alright Mr. Casanova. Let’s go in before the fireworks start.” you say taking the large blanket out of his hands and leaning up again to thank him and kiss his cheek this time. 

You walked hand in hand with him through the park after giving your tickets at the booth and grabbing two lanterns for the both of you. 

This section of  park was already riddled with couples and friends scattered about laughing, talking, swapping stories, and listening to the soft music being played over the speakers as the sun started to set. 

You walk past a park bench riddled with graffiti art and you stop for a moment to stare at it. Kind of like your town’s own “lovers lock bridge”. 

Almost instantly you are taken back to the moment that you and Erik shared your first kiss and the first time he told you that he loved you all those years back. 

N’Jadaka looks back at you for a moment after noticing you’re no longer walking beside him. 

“Does this bench make you feel something? Anything?” you ask as you walk over to it.

“Nah, I haven’t seen it before but it got some dope ass art on it. Like this lil robot man over here. I think i got a marker in my back pocket from work earlier.” he says fishing around while balancing the basket in his other hand. 

He opens the marker with his teeth and crouches down to write your initials while wearing the biggest grin.

“That way when we’re 20 years down the line and you hogging all the blankets and my hairline start hiking to the back like my daddys’. We can come back to this spot and remember the beginning of our lil love story.” he says and you smile at him before nodding and kissing his nose and cheeks. 

As he takes off walking to find your spot. You stand there for a few more moments running your fingers over the carved E+ your initials on the other side of the bench. 

It really was the perfect view of everyone and everything but still being a ways away from others while still being in range to hear the music. 

“Here, it’s perfect.” You declare as you place the blanket and pillows down once you both reach the top of the hill. 

N’Jadaka begins to take out the food and drinks and set it up. “I brought ginger ale for us too if you don’t feel like drinking wine.” 

“That's actually my favourite...Now what in the world does that white boy know about Alicia Keys?” you ask while laughing as he starts playing No One on his guitar and the people in the park began to sing along with him. 

“He tried it . . . But i’mma give him his props. He don’t sound half bad.” N’Jadaka says laughing as he opens the container of strawberries and feeds you one . You lick his fingers softly and he gives you a look. 

You open a frozen fruit cup for him and lean back on your elbows. “So did you always know that you wanted to be an artist/sculptor or is that just something you connected with down the line?” you ask as you stare at the drunken man stumbling around families a few feet away from you. N'Jadaka ponders the question before shaking his head.

“Nah, at first I thought I was gonna be a soldier. I had my mind deadset on joining the military fresh outta high school. That’s how they get you. The recruiters come in making it seem like we gon be doing something patriotic. You know, be a man, defend your country and all that bullshit. They don’t really tell you what they really want you to do and what happens to you, to your mind. It aint right.” he shakes his head at the thought and you had to swallow the lump in your throat knowing that you knew exactly how that route of life played out for him. 

“I’m glad you chose art. You look hot in your lil paint covered overalls. When are you gonna draw me like one of your french girls?” you ask jokingly and he throws his head back in laughter before moving to lean off to the side of the hill with his hand out.

“Don’t let me go.” he calls out dramatically, still laughing and acting like he’s barely holding on.

“I’ll never let go Jack.” you say dramatically holding onto his hand .

He moves back onto the blanket to lay back still laughing as he looks over at you.

“She really had mans hanging off that damn door for hours when there was enough room for both of em.” 

“Wait, stay right there I wanna take a picture to remember this moment. Smile for me Daka.” you call softly to him as you hold up your polaroid camera and press down on the button permanently capturing the serene look on his face as he enjoys the frozen fresh fruit cup. His cherry red stained plump lips gently pulled into a small smile as he stares at the crossed his eyes. He looked cute even while being goofy.

“Gimme kiss?” he asks and you lean down to kiss him as the fireworks light up the sky and he snaps the picture. 

You taste the cherry flavour on his tongue as you continue to kiss him. 

You both look up at the sky in bloom with different hues of white and yellow and reds. 

“Ouch,damn it, you just stepped on my foot.  you could’ve said excuse me!” You yell out to the guy who’s drunkenly stumbling around trying to get higher up.

“You shouldn’t have had them in the fucking way!” he calls back over his shoulder and N’Jadaka immediately gets up from your spot to grab him by his shirt and twists his arm behind his back.

“Fuck is wrong with you? If people aint have their children in here , I would knock your dumb ass out .” he says to the man through gritted teeth and you jump up from your place on the blanket to grab N’Jadaka’s arm and place your hand firmly on his chest.

“Heeeyy Daka, it aint even gotta be all that. He ain’t worth even worth it. C'mon. Come here to me.” you say softly to him knowing how to de-escalate these sort of situations with him all too well.  

“I’m going to have to ask you all to leave the premises for causing a disturbance.” the park attendant says and you try to let her know what was going on but she was already walking away. 

“Come on, we don’t need their lil stank festival anyways.” you say to him and he helps you pack up your stuff before taking your hand and leaving the park. 

Once you’re back in the car you’re both laughing at how stupid the whole situation was and roasting the parking lot attendant to break the slightly awkward silence from when you first entered the car.

You drive around for a while,  listening to old school jams and talking things out about anything and everything. You open up to him a little about Erik and he reveals to you that he used to date Lina for a short time.

But they both knew that it wasn’t right and that Lina was more like a bro to him and vice versa.

After you find an empty parking lot you sit on the hood of his car and stare up at all of the stars showing out tonight. 

“You know we still have our lanterns.” you suggest before grabbing them from the car.

You release your lanterns at the same time before sharing a kiss. You nuzzle his nose for a moment, taking a deep breath and looking right at him. 

“Remember when you asked me if I knew of you before we met at Aloha Oakland?” you ask him.

Once you have it lit you write your message hoping that it comes true and you wait for Daka to finish writing his. 

He leans against the car to listen to you.

"This is gonna sound crazy as hell but roll with it for a moment. I think I knew you in your past life. I know how this sounds but remember when you said that you were drunk for your birthday weekend? You said that you dreamed in hues of red purples and flowers. There were streams of water and butterflies all over. . . You were in the ancestral plane. I'm not exactly sure what happened. I'm still trying to convince myself that I'm not losing it. But, I've technically known you since we were kids. You died back then and somehow, I don't have all the answers. You just promised that you'd come back to me-"

Tag list: @doublesidedscoobysnacks

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@mirandkimy

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[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Kiwi 12

Previously on Kiwi

For three days the world was rampant with news of Lexa and Costia. It was a hot topic for speculation and Lexa realized she hadn’t missed that aspect of dating, nor did she truly crave that kind of pressure or notice any longer. It was pure distraction, and it could not end soon enough. 

The reunion had its desired effect on the world. There were pictures that rolled all over the universe, or so it seemed, with headlines proclaiming all sorts of wild stories and theories as to the reason the bad girl model turned actress was seen paling around, post-show, with reformed and enjoying a successful third album world tour rock star. They hypothesized about the lost love and the rekindling, the cheating that might have happened, the whole entire thing. Two very distinct sections of the internet went bonkers for the pictures and news and fourth-hand accounts of their five minutes together in public since the break up. 

Lexa hated all of it, but bore it because she was now someone who did good things or at least tried to do good things, even if she didn’t like those things. Costia needed it, Indra asked her, and so Lexa stuck to the line that they were just friends and didn’t answer any other questions. It was easier that way. 

None of it mattered Lexa was too happy, feeling too good despite the normal trials and tribulations of the tour, and counting down the days until she would get unrestricted access to her girlfriend, her real girlfriend, her true and honest girlfriend who was currently squatting in her apartment back home. 

So she ignored the tabloids and tried to focus, ticking off the days and existing as far away from Costia as she humanly could. 

Even though there was a lot to get done for the show, even though there was a lot to run through and she should have hung around and helped her sister, Lexa was basically useless and dismissed relatively early in the day. She’d warned Clarke that she would have to send a car to get her, but there was suddenly free time. 

Practically vibrating, Lexa tugged her baseball cap lower and adjusted her glasses. Nervously, she looked around and tried to blend in as much as possible as she anxiously awaited her girlfriend’s arrival. As far as she was concerned, she was absolutely being an amazing girlfriend. The best perhaps. And everything was falling into place in a way that she hadn’t expected or ever truly experienced. 

Lexa saw Clarke before Clarke saw her, and she felt her heart sip a little. It wasn’t supposed to do things like that, and for an instant she was slightly annoyed that she was falling. It was a rare thing to have a moment to look at the girl with pretty lips without her knowing, but Lexa gave herself a few moments. And Clarke looked at her phone and smiled before Lexa felt her own vibrate. 

I made it! I’m going to see you soon! Prepare yourself.

From a reasonable distance, Lexa followed along as Clarke moved to pick up her luggage, carefully apologizing for pumping into someone, smiling warmly at someone else. 

And what should I prepare for?

It might have been slightly voyeuristic, but Lexa didn’t care. She was so used to being the one who was watched, that this felt rewarding in many ways. She would have never gotten to see the view of her girlfriend grinning at her phone and debating what to write, the casual glance around, as if someone was going to know or read it over her shoulder. 

Me, your exceptionally horny and understanding and downright magical girlfriend. 

When she got her bag and moved toward the exit, looking around for the ride that was promised, Lexa finally gave up her watching. 

Bring it on, Griffin. Look at the car rental place behind you.

It took a few seconds for it to register, but Clarke turned around and searched before meeting Lexa’s eyes, hidden as they were behind glasses and beneath a ball cap. And though she felt her, the pull and the need to close the gap as quickly as possible, Clarke stared at her girlfriend and smiled, relieved and surprised and happy. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“I missed you,” Lexa whispered. 

“Did you?” 

There wasn’t a wasted moment or movement. Lexa pushed forward until Clarke was pressed against the wall in the hotel room. She smiled, hovering near her lips, hesitating, teasing, waiting until she couldn’t wait again. Hands moved up from hips and Clarke moaned at the contact of lips on neck. 

It was the closeness that did it-- the unwavering feeling of another body and hands gripping into muscles despite already being closer than close. Lexa liked that Clarke clung, that she grabbed and dug her nails into skin and her legs wrapped around hips. She was unable to lie with her movements. She liked the feeling of being needed so innately. 

“You just popped into my life with a swipe and now I think about you a lot,” Lexa explained. “You made me someone who misses someone.” 

“I’m a terrible influence.” 

“You really are,” she agreed eagerly, kissing the girl in her arms once again before stumbling them toward the bed. 

With a flop, they landed and Lexa made quick work of pressing into Clarke’s hips, spreading her legs even more. 

“Can we do the slow and intimate after. I just--”

Hips canted and Lexa smiled down at the girl wiggling beneath her, cheeks flushed and hands gripping and pulling and tugging. 

“What do you need?” she murmured, dipping her head to kiss her jaw and neck again. 

“Lexa... “ It was somewhere between a whine and a command. 

“Tell me.” 

“Please.” 

“Since you asked so nicely.” 

XXXXXXXXXXX

Spent and sweaty, sprawled across the bed with arms wide and sheets tangled, Lexa sighed and ran her hand along her stomach. Clarke was in love with her knees and the point of her ankles. She was in love with the way her gangly limbs seemed to stretch and tangle themselves everywhere. And sometimes, without even meaning to, Clarke fell in love with all of those parts at one time and it was simultaneously soothing and overwhelming, leaving her startled and warm. 

All within one body, she saw so many contradictions and in that, an overwhelming kind of affection that Clarke hadn’t experienced before with anyone. From her spot between Lexa’s legs, her ear pressed against her thigh, Clarke thought about it more than she ever had before, because she was across the world and it’d been nearly a year, and there was nothing more terrifying than realizing you were in love with something like the wind. With a sigh, Clarke kissed Lexa’s thigh before lifting her head and slouching her way toward her hip. Lexa took a deep breath and held it as she shifted, stretching and adjusting, compensating for Clarke’s movement. The ink on her ribs moved and shifted on the skin there. Clarke kissed her stomach, kissed the giggle that came at the base of her rib cage an instant later. 

With a tiny smile, Clarke pressed her face into Lexa’s stomach and blanketed her hip. She ran her fingertips along the soft skin of her breast, over her nipple. Clarke fell in love with the sound of her lungs when she breathed and she fell in love with the piano keys of her ribs and she was surely in love with the slant of her wrist and elbow and shoulders. 

Not one thing existed-- the world was not at all composed at all of anything other than the bed and the night and the two bodies. Lexa’s fingers slowly tapped a rhythm on her own chest while her other hand swirled through Clarke’s messy hair. 

Sometimes it was too much; all of the feelings and such, and Clarke didn’t know how to explain or feel them or say anything. Words didn’t seem needed in the moment. And so she lifted herself once again and slithered lower until she could taste Lexa again, because she desperately needed to communicate and she needed to express, and she had no way to do it other than to make Lexa arch and grip the sheets and swear. It only made it worse, that Lexa gave all of herself over. But Clarke was in love with a live wire, and she knew that sometimes. 

When all tension that had been worked into her muscles left in an instant despite Clarke’s desire to prolong it, and the body in the sheets was once again pliant and spent, Clarke laid once more on her thigh and kissed her there before closing her eyes and listening to Lexa catch her breath. 

It was possible to fall in love with a moment, and it was possible to fall in love with a dream-- what Clarke wasn’t sure of, was if it was possible to fall in love with a person who navigated through those moments and those dreams. She wanted to reason her way out of whatever it was that was plaguing her, but deep down she knew that it wasn’t something she could do, and she was presently stuck with it. The only choices left were to nurture it and let it grow or ignore it and let it strangle her. 

“I missed you, too,” Clarke whispered. 

XXXXXXXXXX

“Wake up please. I want to go look at castles.” 

Clarke groaned in complaint before yawning into the pillow. A body settled near her, sitting on the edge of the bed as it rustled this way and that. The sleeping girl pushed the hair out of her face and watched as the rockstar typed on her phone before tossing it on the desk and pulling her shirt over her head. 

There was a tray of fruit, coffee, and scones on the table, and lit in the morning sun from the window, a shirtless girl ate a strawberry and surveyed the land outside before turning back toward the bed. 

Clarke just smiled and grabbed her phone before groaning once again at the time, enjoying the smile it garnered from her girlfriend. It was still early. Too early. 

“Did you already work out?” 

“Sure did. Ordered us breakfast, too. Already checked in with Anya and Indra for the day, and returned a few emails.” 

“Are you always like this?” 

“What?” Lexa asked, flexing slightly in the mirror before taking a sip of her coffee. 

“So perky in the morning?” 

“Honestly, just when you’re here. You’re a good reason to want to get stuff done. I want to waste a whole day with you.” 

“You left me alone in bed though.” 

“Yeah, or else I wouldn’t have gotten anything done. Can we go see some castles now? I’m very excited. I’ve been waiting til you got here.” 

“Can we shower first?” 

“I guess. If we must.” But Lexa didn’t move. She sat and began her breakfast. “I got your coffee ready, darling.”

Only then did Clarke find it incentive enough to heave herself out of bed. She wrapped the sheet around herself and moved toward the table, careful to lean down to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek then neck then shoulder as she did. 

“Are we going to grab dinner before your show tonight?” 

“Definitely. Anya has already picked out a spot. I thought tomorrow we could grab something just us. I mean… the weather is going to be nice. I found a place-- It’s already set. You’re fed for the next two days at least.” 

“Good. Because I broke down and bought very unhealthy food to contaminate your kitchen and I need proper sustenance.”

“You’re a growing girl.” 

“Exactly.” 

XXXXXXXXXX

“You really like castles.” 

“They’re so cool. I feel a bit like I’m in a Jane Austen book or something.” 

There was always a surprise with Lexa, and Clarke wished she could predict it, or at least figure out a way to be less blown over when Lexa said things like enjoying Jane Austen books and still, as a full adult, dreaming about owning a castle.

“I can barely fathom squatting in your loft let alone, so please don’t go buying a castle anytime soon.” 

Goofy and happy, Lexa smiled and shook her head, carefully slinging her arm over Clarke’s shoulder as they perused. 

“I try to read a book by an author from every country I visit. I made myself read Emma, and I’ve been a bit of a castle fan ever since. It was genuinely the funniest thing I’ve read in a long time.” 

“And what are you reading now?” Clarke asked as they walked along a rather drizzly path along the grounds with the other tourists. 

“I went with something called The Guts, about rock music and junk. I’m a cliché.” 

“You never told me you were a big reader.” 

“I don’t like to advertise it too much.” 

“God forbid people think you’re clever,” Clarke rolled her eyes and teased, earning a kiss on her temple. 

“I don’t know if you know this or not,” Lexa chuckled. “But I’m a high school drop out.” 

“You’re--”

Aimlessly walking and enjoying the mildly warm day despite the spitting rain, the pair was interrupted by the growing murmurs of people noticing. Clarke felt Lexa’s arm tighten slightly on her shoulders, guiding her away from someone else. 

“This is going to happen, huh?” Clarke sighed. “And we were having such a good time.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“If you weren’t so damn good looking and you know, sang those songs, and gyrated your hips a little less…” 

Lexa burst out into a laugh, unable to contain it. The cameras caught it, snapping pictures and documenting every move. For most of it, Clarke forgot to be too nervous. She couldn’t be completely distracted from the people following and stealing their moment, but Lexa did her best and it worked in its own way. 

On the way back to the hotel to get ready for dinner, Clarke scrolled through her phone while Lexa chatted with some friends on a scheduled call. She paused when she recognized herself and Lexa from just a few hours ago, paired with the picture Lexa posted of the two of them on her account. There were a lot of comments about them, speculation about who she was, linking to the previous pictures. 

For the moment, Clarke felt her heart race and her cheeks blush. She wasn’t sure what to say, or what to do or what to feel about it all. Suddenly, the privacy of a castle didn’t seem like a terrible life. 

XXXXXXXXX

There was something fantastic about a concert behind the scenes. There was something absolutely magical about watching Lexa onstage that simultaneously made the incident with the cameras seem better and worse. 

But for a while, it was gone and Clarke was infatuated with the girl on stage who had twenty thousand people hanging on her every word and song. During a song, Lexa looked over and winked and Clarke was certain that there was nothing better. 

Fingers moving up and down the guitar frets, Lexa leaned into the microphone and sang to her heart's content. She turned and looked at Anya and smiled. She moved and danced with the rest of the band. She chatted up the crowd, holding them in the palm of her hand, keeping them hooked. An entire stadium sang back her own words to her, and Clarke was in awe of the whole display. She wondered if the amazement would ever go away, or if she was doomed to be bowled over by Lexa every other night. 

Slightly sweaty and still high from her show, the lights went black and Lexa appeared close to Clarke, earning a hug. 

“You looked good out there, Woods.” 

“She never does this well,” Anya teased. “We should bring you along more often.” 

“I didn’t do anything special,” Lexa disagreed, enjoying the kisses she received. 

The crowd chanted and begged for more and Clarke knew what was going to happen. She saw Lexa soak it up a little bit more. She enjoyed the mood and the contagious feeling of it all. 

“I have to go back out there for a bit longer. You good?” 

Earnest and eager, Lexa waited for Clarke’s answer and nod. If Clarke would have said no, she knew that Lexa wouldn’t have gone back out, and that was something. So Clarke hugged her once more. 

“I guess I’ll chant your name later,” she whispered. 

She expected a smile or maybe a moan, or something inherently Lexa as a reaction to a comment like that-- something cocky and interested all at once. Instad, Clarke earned Lexa’s eyes and a very set jaw. 

“I need you to understand what I mean when I say this,” Lexa insisted, her forehead pressed against Clarke’s, the rest of the band already taking the stage for the encore. “I've come here to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours.”

She hadn’t meant to hear the words, and she certainly hadn’t expected such brutal honesty in such a sweaty and loud and public moment. Still pressed together tightly, Clarke felt a tear roll down her cheek because she was completely blindsided by such a confession. 

“I understand,” Clarke nodded. 

Lexa smiled and Clarke knew only because her cheeks crinkled near her eyes. The music started, but Lexa wouldn’t move. Clarke tapped her thumbs against her girlfriend’s chest. 

“You should go finish work.” 

“I should. Chanting my name, huh?” 

Lexa kissed Clarke quickly and disappeared back on stage before she could answer. 

NEXT

[tigerdovefan34-realone]

So here's a fic idea I posted on Reddit. I want to see if anyone would be down to read it. Enough likes/reblogs and I'll start working on it ASAP :

At the very start of the story, we have Toga and Saito walking home from graduation and Saito is noticeably blushing (I personally hc that he had a massive crush on Toga and maybe fought those kids to impress her as Teenage Boys are want to do) before Toga indicates that she wants them both to stop. Saito is nervous but is ready to confess, thinking only about how Adorable Himiko looks before she attacks him. However, Saito is able to dodge and outmaneuver here. He then notices that she's crying and instantly feels his heart nearly break at the sight of her eyes filled with tears. Soon, he's able to disarm and pin her and interrogates her, though she escapes after muttering "Mama...Papa...Normal...Onii-chan...Imoutosan...Otoutosan...Deviant..." before she makes a run for it, confusing Saito and leading him to investigate Himiko and her family, meeting her little sisters, little brother, elder brother, and parents for the first time and while the parents and elder brother are asses and very cold when it comes to Himiko, and the sister younger than her by a year is nervous to speak up along with one of the twins (the brother), who are the youngest in the family. The youngest daughter spills everything.

The Toga family, being extremely wealthy and influential is able to sweep the mess under the rug in a few days and Saito is discredited as a liar. Meanwhile, Toga on the run meets with someone by the name of Jin who becomes a father figure to her, helping her come to turns with herself and her quirk without killing people and she convinces him to talk to people who might actually care about helping him.

A week after Graduation, Saito finally tracks down both Himiko and Jin, who are being harassed by a gang of villains with steel quirks. After knocking out and beating up Jin and brushing Saito aside before going after Himiko to do certain things with her (Imagine what you'd like) only for Saito's quirk to awaken, along with Himiko as both of them are in a highly stressful situation.

Saito's full name is Ichidan Saito, which translates to (could be wrong here so feel free to correct me) To Use Pure Wisteria or better, To Use Pure Poison, given Wisteria being a toxic plant. His quirk is him being able to secrete wisteria poison from his fingernails, but he's able to control it and able to give out specific dosages depending on how much he wants to secrete. If he wants to kill, large amounts will come from his fingernails and instantly kill the person he scratches. If he's looking to knock out or paralyze, a more regulated dosage will come out. However, the only thing is, he needs to land a scratch on soft flesh for it to work.

Well, the evolved version of Wisteria Nails (Quirk name) is him being able to use his fingers and the palms of his hand to secrete the poison while at the same time the poison becomes very Acid like and thus far more dangerous to those with metallic quirks depending on the dosage. Soon the gang is beaten back and while Jin takes therapy, eventually becoming the head of his own hero agency and reaching #6 relatively quickly after awakening his quirk, Saito and Toga attend UA's hero course in 1A and reaching the Sports Festival, where they both place 3rd (all while a certain green haired boy takes notes on them, calling their quirks "So Amazing!") before being the first interns to be taken in by Jin's agency. The three are seen as a rather strange but effective trio, with Jin being Xeroxer, the Duplication Hero, Saito being Rancor, the Poison Hero, and Toga being Selene, The Blood Heroine.

They do encounter Midoriya once or twice but by the end of the year, they have been proven to be extremely effective in what they do and none can deny their abilities. And Saito and Toga eventually get together, to Jin's delight, making Toga swear to name their first son after him. Meanwhile, Toga's parents and elder brother refuse to acknowledge her existence, calling her a blight on the family that doesn't deserve to be an heir to the family's fortune and influence. One Saturday, when on Patrol, they get a call about something strange happening at Graves after Dark and after a stakeout, they see and confront a villain only for them to escape without using their quirk. After a Week's worth of encounters, they finally confront the Villain, who reveals themselves as Godan Mouja (from what I see, means To Control The Dead)

Their Quirk basically allows them to reanimate the dead, recently deceased, half decomposed, fully decomposed, just skeleton, it doesn't matter. However, they aren't Zombies, as hitting they're will cause the corpses to disintegrate into dust if they're knocked out/paralyzed. After a long, brutal, and exhausting fight, Toga is told to run for it while Saito and Jin hold off Mouja. Jin says that she's always been his daughter through spirit if not blood and makes sure she sticks to her promise to name her first born son after him. Meanwhile, Saito and Toga have a brief argument before he kisses her and forces her to run, saying he always loved her and will always watch over her.

The poor girl is barely able to escape and All Might is able to convince her family to take her in as with Jin and Saito dead, the agency is now defunct and incorporated into another hero agency. She becomes nothing more than an emotionless robot who shows no happiness, no sadness, nothing, bit whenever Mouja is mentioned, she has a psychotic break, swearing up and done she'll tear them apart when waving a knife around. Meanwhile, Mouja, realizing they can break a hero mentally before taking their corpse to add to their collection (which is the equivalent of putting maple syrup on pancakes for them) decides to ensure Saito and Jin can't decompose and has many skeletons take on their skins as well to torment her in a fight without risking the real ones being destroyed so he can break her and take in her delicious meltdown at her dead father figure and lover calling her a monster, murderer, coward, traitor, and freak again and again while fighting her whenever they do meet again.

Eventually, it's year 2 and Toga, now in Class 2A, goes to the new UA Sports Festival with people being interested in taking either out of pity or wanting to use her looks to help their agency prosper. And in this Sports Festival, she goes up against a familiar green haired boy that looks like Saito.

The story will be about Toga living past Saito and Jin's deaths, her conflict with Mouja, Midoriya opening her up and their eventual first kiss, and the two going through the trials and tribulations of the series as a couple with Toga as a Hero and MC. So what's the general thought on the Prologue of the story? Or do you think it should be it's own story as a prequel? (Didn't mean to reveal so much if the latter is decided. Might delete this post if people agree this should entirely be it's own story as a prequel)

By the way, I have no ideas for Toga's family names, hero names, and quirks, so if you have any ideas, feel free to reccomend them and I'll consider them.

Would anyone be interested in helping me keep the characters consistent, editing, and helping me with creating a proper storyline for this

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (1)

a Javier Peña x OFC story 

now also on AO3

author: @youhavereachedtheendofpie (if u wanna come say hello on main)

rating/warnings: swearing, mentions of character death

words: 5521

Author’s note: dude this chapter fought me every step of the way but it’s here now so suck it, muses or whatever

---

Tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @dindjarindiaries (thank you sweeties whom I will hold forever in my heart)

(message me if you want to be added to the list)

Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1 - The Informant

'Liliana' the file said. I was tucked away in the locked bottom drawer of his old desk, the one he hadn't even had time to clear out when they'd sent him away. To be fair, Javier had only known to look because Murphy had called him to tell him about this informant. It sounded too good to be true. An informant coming to them of their own accord, ready to spill valuable inside secrets of the Calí cartel, and they didn't even want payment? One would be forgiven, in their line of work, to smell a trap. But Murphy had vouched for this one, and he trusted Murphy, knew that his partner (former partner) did his homework with due diligence. That, and the first batch of intel Murphy had brought back from their first few meetings had already proven invaluable. 

There was apparently only one hiccup, and it was that the informant refused to talk to any agents other than him or Murphy. It had even led to Steve having to postpone his return to the States for almost two months, until it was clear that Javier would return to Colombia. Fair enough, he'd need to make up his own mind about them anyway. He collected the file and tucked it into the box that held all the stuff he'd cleared out of the desk, since he would now officially be moving a an office of his own.

Upon arriving in said office, he kicked the door closed and sat, lighting a cigarette and reaching for the file. As thin as it was, it still took him almost an hour to work through it, though half of the time was spent deciphering Murphy's chicken scratch mess of annotations. The rest was spent on making his own. After checking the time, Javier fetched himself a cup of the same old tar brew that passed for coffee here, lit another cigarette, and dialled Steve's new office number in Miami. 

"Murphy."

"Alright, I've read the file." Javier started without preamble. Perhaps that was a bit short. He grimaced, then added, "About the informant. Liliana."

"Yeah, I figured." Steve exhaled probably puffing away at his own nicotine habit. Javier meant to quit, but kept pushing it off. The intent was all there was to it, at this stage. "So what're you calling me for, big boss?"

Javier elected to ignore the taunt, knowing it was friendly. 

"You've met her. Is she legit?"

"Why, you smelling a trap?"

Pathological mistrust was a feature one acquired while on this job. Those who didn't ended up dead. Those who did would still end up dead, just later and more jaded. Either way you'd get a lot of other people killed on the way. "Just making sure." 

They spent the next half hour and a bit going over the file together, comparing notes, catching up, thinking aloud - all of which were much easier to do when they had each other to bounce off of. It felt good, almost like old times. Javier went through close to a third of his pack of cigarettes, the air growing heavy in the windowless room. Just as well that it was almost time to wrap this up. A look at his watch told him that it was getting late in the day, and that Steve would want to get home to his family. All Javier could hope for at this point was avoiding resident CIA-asshole Bill Stechner on his way out, at least on this day. 

"You won't be able to pull your usual shit with this one." Steve remarked, accompanied by the sound of shuffling papers. Javier bristled, even though he knew the things people said about him, both behind his back and to his face. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Knowing didn't mean it didn't, occasionally, sting, but he'd given up on trying to influence other people's minds long ago. A reputation once acquired was not easily shed, not that he'd made much of an effort to. 

"It means that you shouldn't. Pull your usual crap with this one. For one I hardly think it'll be necessary."

"That would be new." Javier snorted. He could hear Steve's eyeroll through the phone. 

"Still the same asshole-" Steve snarked. "I'm just saying be nice for once, especially since that woman's intel is the only reason you still have a job. She's a nice lady, so with a bit of luck some of that might even rub off on you." 

"And I'm the asshole..." 

"So everyone keeps saying." 

"Fuck you, Steve."

"Go fuck yourself, Javi." Steve's chuckle told him it was all in good humor. "And don't fuck this informant."

"Yeah, yeah," Javier waved it off. The woman was an accountant, for fuck's sake. Note exactly his usual type. Or the type he usually attracted. 

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- 

They were meeting at one of the small restaurants lining the edge of Parque Sabaneta in Medellín. Over the phone her voice had sounded... hesitant, above all else. Tinny, too, but he blamed the connection for that. And he'd brought her a satellite phone for future contacts; her driving out to remote phone cells and him waiting for calls after hours in his office just didn't cut it. 

There hadn't been a picture in the file, but Steve's description had been quite accurate and Javier was able to pick her out at the table she'd chosen before making himself known. Dark hair and darker eyes behind large, slightly old-fashioned glasses. She was almost tall and hid her figure underneath loose-fitted clothing; today a flowy blouse and high-waisted dress pants, and a bulky cardigan against the spring chill that lingered even into the late morning. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun that reminded him of his fifth grade math teacher, Ms Jenkins. Javier approached the table. 

"Diana Rivas?" She froze for a split-second before relaxing again, returning his greeting softly. In real life her voice was deeper than he would have anticipated, raspier too, but not unpleasant - the kind of voice one would expect first thing in the morning, just after waking up. 

"I do hope your drive was not too tiring, Agent Peña." she said as he sat. He grimaced slightly. The drive had been long, above all else. Not his first choice of how to spend a Friday morning. Well, he'd endured worse for this job. But next time he'd definitely travel by plane.

"Do they serve decent coffee here?" Javier scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and settled, resuming his assessment. She squirmed slightly under his unrelenting gaze, but squared her shoulders after a moment, meeting his gaze head-on and motioning a waiter over with a flick of her delicate wrist. 

"Of course they do, this is Medellín!" She sounded mildly offended, then ignored him in favor of telling the waiter their order. Javier took the time to observe her further. 

No make-up, no jewellery, save for a simple, functional watch and a small silver locket on a long, thin chain. No wedding band either, but the paleness and indentation around her ring finger still indicated that she'd worn one in the recent past. Her features were soft and feminine, with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, all making her look younger than she purportedly was. His gaze caught on her defined cupid's bow just a second too long. Her complexion seemed far too sunkissed for someone who spent most of their time indoors, in air-conditioned office spaces. In conclusion, undeniably lovely to anyone with eyes who cared to look, but obviously taking great pains to discourage closer scrutiny, to look as mousy and plain as possible. It worked, to a degree. 

It occurred to Javier that maybe he should actually talk to her, since that's what he'd come here for. 

"Do you always begin your interrogations with the silent treatment? I can see how that might be effective." She beat him to it, just before the coffee cups were set on the table in front of them. 

"This isn't an interrogation." he groused, taking a tentative sip of the coffee. The scent of it alone was enough to wake the dead; it was heavenly. He'd have to see if he could weasel some halfway decent coffee out of his budget at the office. 

"Regardless, I only have until noon today. We can meet again tomorrow; I can make myself available all afternoon for you, Agent Peña." 

Javier huffed out a breath before taking another sip. "Why can you suddenly do Medellín anyway? You had Murphy travel across half the country to meet you." 

She made a face at that, something between annoyed and apologetic. "My aunt, she... she's sick and been getting worse. I make the time to come down here every other weekend now to help her."

"And your employers are alright with that?" He hadn't exactly pegged the Calí cartel for employers of the year. Or to pioneer part-time models so their employees could care for sick relatives.

"As long as the work gets done, yes. It means I work ten to eleven hour days Monday to Thursday, but I am the only one left in this family..." She sniffled a little and swept the tips of her fingers under the plastic rim of her glasses, wiping at her eyes. Javier looked away, pretending it was to give her privacy. He imagined this unusually forthright woman walking up to Pacho Herrera to ask for reduced work hours so she could care for her aunt- That could really have gone either way, but somehow he thought that was probably not how it happened, or whom she'd asked. He just couldn't picture it. Maybe one of the brothers; they liked to style themselves as charitable family men, to a degree.

"Anyway, Medellín's closer for you, and we're less likely to be found out here. They like to keep security pretty tight in Calí. My friend Angelika calls it the Calí Stasi, and she's from the former East Germany, so she'd know." 

He hummed in acknowledgement, his coffee almost gone and him almost feeling like a living human being again. He flagged the waiter down for another. 

"In any case, I am glad that we can keep this to Spanish now. My English is not very ...confident." She prattled on, sipping from her own cup. Murphy had told him that she'd brought a dictionary to their first meeting, and apparently, with his former partner's dismal language skills, they'd actually needed it. 

"I'm sure your English is better than Murphy's Spanish." Steve had told him as much, but then again, Steve's Spanish was shit, so it really wasn't saying much. There was something else niggling at the back of his mind. 

"Why me?" 

Her glasses slid down her nose half an inch or so in surprise at his -admittedly abrupt- question. "I'm sorry?"

"Murphy said you wanted to speak to me specifically when you first called. Why?" 

She hesitated a moment, squirmed a little and averted her eyes, then pushed her glasses back up her nose before answering, softer than before. "Gabriela said you could be trusted."

"...Gabriela?" He said sharply, neck flushing at the thought of the beautiful redhead. 

She shrunk in on herself, hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. Perhaps his voice had come out a little bit harsher than intended. He hadn't even thought that she'd actually tell him her real name. He'd just been a client after all. 

"Yes," Miss Rivas breathed out, her voice so soft now that he had to lean halfway across the table to even catch it. "She's my best friend. We've been inseparable since the firts day of school. We tell each other everything. She told me she knew a DEA agent; that's why I told my cousin to go to her when she ran into trouble with Pablo Escobar-"

"Your cousin???" He almost roared. It came out as more of a whisper-yell, but she still flinched, eyes going wide behind the lenses. 

"Yes, my cousin," she said carefully, "Maritza Rincón." 

"Maritza–" he patted his pocket for a smoke and swore under his breath when he remembered how he'd left them in the car with the intention of advancing his 'quit smoking'-idea beyond idle talk. "What is this, a fucking trap? Very elaborate setup just to yell at me, missy. Unless you've got some buddies of yours here to–"

"What- what are you *talking* about? I don't blame you for Maritza's death!" By now people were staring. Not a lot of them, since it wasn't really the time yet for the midday crowd and too late for the morning rush, but the few pensioners and whatnot were definitely sensing the tension at their table. Javier gave up on his cigarette search and took a deliberate breath, willing himself to calm down. 

"Maritza is dead?" He hadn't known that. He wasn't sure how he would have learned of it, but it still shocked him regardless. He looked over to see her fidget with her locket, lips pressed tight and trembling. Shit. Another informant on his conscience, fucking great. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" he started, his voice catching. He bought himself time with his now lukewarm coffee, "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know that. I-"

"It's alright." She whispered, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated it wasn't. She swept her glasses off with trembling fingers and pressed beneath her eyes, as if to restrain the tears that pooled in her lashes. 

"I'm sorry." Javier said again, insistent, soft, sincere. "What happened?" 

"We- I don't know. She called me to say she was in trouble with Escobar, and I helped her set up the meeting with Gabi."

"With me." He remembered that evening, that young girl sitting in Gabriela's apartment, ready to be sprung on him. Part of him had resented it; Gabriela had been someone he'd sought out to get away from the damn narcos and their dealings. Miss Rivas nodded. 

"Yes. It was that idiot Jhon. He was one of the neighborhood kids. Growing up he'd always had a crush on her..." She talked a lot, he found. It should irritate him more, the way she'd throw in seemingly irrelevant asides without explaining further. Instead he only found himself worrying that someone so pathologically honest could not possibly keep the Gentlemen of Calí off her tracks, at least not if she kept spilling her life story so eagerly. 

" ...and then she hid out on her uncle's farm again, where my auntie - her mom - grew up and went back to after my uncle - that's Maritza's dad - died of a heart attack. Auntie had been out for the day and when she came back- "

He can't bear to listen to it, but forces himself to anyway. In the sea of his regrets, what's one more? Besides, there's nothing else he can do for the girl now; the least he can do is witness how he failed her. 

For all her unassuming bluntness, Diana Rivas is not one to hold back, even on unsavoury details. At least he doesn't get the sense that she does it to torment when she tells him how they found Maritza's lifeless body with her young daughter next to her.  

By the end of that sorry tale, he has his head in his hands, Miss Rivas is still just this side of openly weeping, and all the other patrons have demonstratively averted their attention so as not to impose on what must, on the outside, look like an urgent case for a damned good couples' counselor. 

"I'm sorry, I know this is a lot." And why in the hell is she apologizing?

"No shit." And yeah, he has to digest this before he can even think of making any attempt at non-destructive human interaction. "You couldn't tell Murphy any of this?"

She gave him a look. 

"Yeah, alright. Sorry." More than just a language barrier, got it. 

"I didn't come here today with the intention to relive this, you know?" She said archly. He supposed she had all the right to be upset. And he'd never had a meeting with an informant turn this harrowing, which was really saying something. 

"I'm sorry." He said again, putting the weight of sincerity behind the words. Her hands were in the table now, fidgeting again as she sat slightly hunched over, staring into her coffee cup.

"Unless your government has a time machine to spare, I would prefer not talking about it again. At least not more than necessary." She replaced her glasses and checked her watch. "1 pm tomorrow?"

Javier nodded dumbly, already plucking a few bills out of his wallet to pay for the coffee. "Yeah, 1 pm is okay. Where?"

"Meet me at the church. Santa Ana. You know it?" He didn't particularly, as in he didn't know its name before now, but he could see the building's tall white facade from where they were sitting. 

"Iglesia de Santa Ana, 1 pm tomorrow." Javier confirmed, rising as she did. The stared at each other for a moment, unsure of how to conclude this meeting, until she stuck her hand out for him to shake. He took her smaller, slender hand in his, squeezing it wordlessly. 

"Until tomorrow, Agent Peña." She said, managing a sad little smile. "I hope you'll get some rest. You look like shit." 

Javier bit down every one of the snarky replies that sprung to mind, not least because he knew it was true. His bags had bags and he itched for a smoke.

And to think, this was Murphy's 'nice lady'. 

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Somehow it hadn't occurred to him that at the church meant inside the church. Not until a very miffed face peered out between the heavy doors, giving him a look as he stood there smoking. 

"It's barely been five minutes!" Javier defended himself, stubbing out the cigarette beneath his heel. 

"It's 1:07pm." She informed him matter-of-factly, pushing the glasses back up her nose pointedly as she made to turn back inside. Javier caught the door, crowding perhaps a bit too close, but the damned thing was heavy. 

"Sorry." He said simply, seeing no point in making a scene out of it. She had to crane her neck just the slightest bit to meet his gaze. 

"Wait here, I'll be out in a minute." And with that she stalked off. Javi watched her sweep down the aisle, her hair and skirt fluttering behind her. She wore her hair loose today, the ends of it curling around her shoulders, and a simple off-white shirt dress that reached down to mid-calf. He let his eyes trail after her, leaning his weight more fully against the heavy wood of the door to lever it open. She walked around two thirds of the way down the pews before stopping by a... baby carriage? 

She bent over it before carefully wheeling it around and starting back towards the door. Javier racked his tired brain. The file hadn't said anything about a kid. Married five years but no children. That didn't seem like the kind of thing one would easily miss, and he knew Murphy to be thorough in his inquiries. 

"Who's this then?" He peered inside the carriage -more of a buggy really now that he got a closer look- and barely caught a glance of a dozing toddler with soft brown curls, while hoisting the door open wider to let her pass more easily. "Didn't know you had a kid."

"I don't." The buggy caught on the threshold and jolted, and a displeased cry came from inside it, making her curse under her breath. "This is Maritza's daughter, Salome. I've got it! Just- the door, just get the door!"

The last part of that came out high and sharp, much like the crack of a whip, and in direct response to Javier's attempt to swoop in and help heave the buggy over the worn-down threshold. He jolted back on instinct, grunting when the door swung squarely into his spine. Who the hell was responsible for all these old-ass church doors being solid enough to squash an actual living human between them?

After some fumbling they managed to make it out with most of their dignity still intact. Javier bent down and quickly shoved the bag he'd brought into the wire basket underneath the buggy's seat, next to her purse. 

"Where to?" He asked, straightening up again. Miss Rivas still looked cross, her lips pressed together.

"Follow along. There are some secluded benches a little walk away." And off she was, leavin him to catch up.

"If your intention is to disguise this meeting as just another family enjoying the sun I suggest you slow down a little." Javier hissed under his breath. He'd actually had to jog a bit to keep up with her steamroller pace. She looked even more annoyed and declined to grace him with an answer, but slowed with a sigh that told him that this was indeed her intention. It was a smart enough plan, he wouldn't dispute that. 

At least the kid seemed to have calmed from her little jostle-startle, seeing as she was now quietly babbling away as if narrating the sights. Javier tried to loosen his tense shoulders and to look like he was enjoying himself as they fell into step ambling along the walkways between the lush greenery. 

"How old is she?" he asked, thinking that perhaps some small talk would ease the woman's sullen mood. 

"Almost two and a half." Or not. Well, he tried. Javier wasn't exactly an expert with kids and none of his previous informants had ever shown up with theirs. Not that that would have been appropriate considering the circumstances. They walked for about a quarter of an hour, which Javier spent agonizing about how to smooth over the sudden mood change Miss Rivas was displaying compared to the day before. By the time they'd made it to their destination he was no closer to that goal. 

She sat with a weary sigh, shaking out her flowy skirt before sitting and rolling her sleeves up to her elbows. It was much warmer today than when they'd met previously, only in part due to the later hour. Stiffly, Javier sat down next to her at a distance that instantly belied their 'family outing' cover. She turned to him after checking on the baby, peeling back the sunshade of the buggy to allow her to look around. 

"You can smoke if you want to." Miss Rivas said offhandedly, her tone forcedly polite. Javier cleared his throat. 

"I'm actually trying to quit."

Her lips quirked into a pleasant curve. "And how's that going?"

Javier sighed. "I'm thinking I might have chosen the wrong time."

"Or the wrong job."

The laugh that bursts forth from him is short, but not altogether hollow. "Yeah, or that."

"Very well, then you may not smoke even though you might want to." 

Javier smiled. Couldn't help it, really. He had been worried that he'd somehow managed to offend her during their last meeting. He said as much, and she shook her head with a look of remorse.

"No, it's not your fault. It's just..." She pushed her glasses up and rubbed at her eyes, revealing the dark rings that had previously been hidden beneath the plastic rim. "Yesterday dredged up some things, and I didn't sleep well as a consequence. That always makes me snippy. And to top things of, this one," she leaned over to unbuckle the child and heave her into her lap, "was being fussy all morning, which didn't help. Sorry for being so short with you earlier."

"In this job, people usually shoot at me. It's alright, really. You're alright." Truth be told, he was glad she pulled herself out of this funk. Maybe she was as nice as Murphy claimed after all. The kid looked at him with large, round, strangely sage eyes. I got your mommy killed. I got your mommy killed and you had to watch. If he had gotten her that visa- The thought made him gulp, made him dizzy and nauseous and if there was anything to be glad for in this situation it was that he was already sitting down. Miss Rivas replaced her glasses and looked at him with furrowed brows. He felt like he was being read. 

"I already told you that I don't blame you for Maritza." Javier tried his damnedest not to squirm underneath that discerning stare. Screw read, he felt like he was being flayed open. "Obviously you still blame yourself."

"Wouldn't you?" He shot back, defensive. She didn't answer for a moment, gently rocking the kid who had grabbed a hold of her locket and started to play with it. 

"I have enough regrets of my own, Agent Peña." Part of him wants to scoff, even just to dispel the heavy moment, but the severity in her tone nips that impulse in the bud. Instead, he clears his throat and gestures to the buggy where he stored his bag earlier.

"I brought you something." 

Her features soften into not quite a smile, but something close enough. "What a coincidence, so have I."

And then she hands him the toddler, who lets out a displeased cry at having her toy wrenched from her chubby hands in so unceremonious a manner, and Javier freezes as her squirmy weight is settled in his lap, only his hand shooting out to steady her on instinct. Up close her big brown eyes are even more enormous. 

"Um, hi. Nice to meet you, Miss Salome. I'm Javier." He says awkwardly and is met with a pout. This is patently terrible and reminds him of the few times he'd been handed baby Olivia. She'd started crying instantly nine times out of ten. He hopes against hope that today will be a deviation from that norm. Salome considers him a long moment, blinking owlishly and making that certain kind of skeptical face that little kids so often do. He's had less tense moments in interrogations. He might be sweating in a way that has little to do with the midday heat. 

And then Salome blows him a raspberry and dives for his wrist to investigate the shininess of his watch. And when he can breathe again he allows himself a smile. Of relief, mostly. In stark contrast to the smile Miss Rivas wears as she regeards them both, which is pure mischief with a dash of smugness. 

"Well look at that. You passed muster, Agent Peña." Miss Rivas set both their bags down in the space between them, then leaned over to press a quick kiss to little Salome's soft curls. And Javier has been much closer to many women than this; his heart shouldn't lurch at the sudden proximity, the waft of her perfume or the light brush of her soft hair over his bare forearm.

"Ladies first." Javier gestured at the bags between them. She smiled and rummaged through hers, producing two thick stacks of folded papers, either parcel secured with a rubber band. 

"Trade you?" she motioned at the girl, who was now intently examining the fingers of his right hand. Reluctantly, he let Miss Rivas pluck the small child from his lap and stand her next to the bench. Salome frowned adorably for a moment at having been interrupted in pulling his pinky finger off, then realized she was free to roam around and brightened instantly, hitting the bench a few times with chubby palms and babbling. 

"Yes, of course I have your toy, sweetie." Miss Rivas said earnestly, presenting a brightly colored ball. Salome grabbed for it with a squeal, her momentum propelling her straight onto her backside. Miss Rivas turned back to Javier with that soft, fond expression still on her face and handed him one of the parcels. 

"Do... did you want to go over this? While I'm here to explain things?"

"That complex, huh?"

"Well, it's a lot to do with creative book-keeping and tax law loopholes. It's more about how they structure their business to launder their incomes than anything else, but it'll still be helpful in building a case, no?" 

It is, which is the whole reason he's been sent back here apparently. And while it's nothing the analysts back at the office can't handle (probably), he still likes being in the loop. And also maybe because he enjoys the sound of her voice. In any case he peels off the rubber band and unfolds the stack of papers, keeping a careful hand around it to ensure that nothing blows away in the spring breeze. Miss Rivas pulled out a pencil from her purse and shuffled closer. Close enough that he can smell her perfume again. - - - Over the following hour and a half Javier realized several important things: 

One. Diana Rivas is likely one of the cleverest people he has ever met. By page eight his head is swimming with numbers, but her even explanations make even tiered corporate tax rebate systems sound fascinating. Even in his line of work, he'd never truly considered accounting to be the stuff of suspense, but she makes it sound like a thriller that even the brightest heads in Hollywood would have trouble coming up with. 

Two. Having to do anything while keeping an eye in a rambunctious small child who is still learning to walk is a uniquely stressful experience. Little Salome is bouncing around the small patch of grass in front of the bench much like her ball, endowed with seemingly endless reservoirs of energy. She crashes into his knee a few times while chasing her ball or deciding that playing hide and seek underneath the bench is a better use of her time, and it puts him on edge that he feels responsible at all. 

Three. The Rodríguez brothers make more than enough money from their few legitimate businesses to never have to worry themselves financially. Not that this had been in question, technically, but to see the numbers in black and white is still galling, even if he's not nearly as incensed about it as Miss Rivas seems to be. And while Javier is far from a religious man, he does consider greed that is levered with blood to be at least distateful. 

Four. It's not her perfume he smelled earlier, but her shampoo, bright and fruity, with high notes of citrus. 

Five. As long as this is all they have and all she can get, the DEA cannot make a move against the Calí cartel. His orders had been very clear on that. Nail them down beyond escape and make absolutely sure you get them into custody, in that order. It means that whatever Miss Rivas can reveal about the inner financial working of the cartel is valuable, but on its own won't be enough. As always in this job it's sorting through a haystack with a rake in search of needlepoints. 

Which brings him to the next thing he needs to ask her. Needs to ask her to do for him, and the operation, to be specific, and he can already tell she'll say yes eagerly. Eager informants should be a blessing, but their eagerness seems to directly correlate with their likelihood of getting killed, or close enough. 

"This is for you." He says instead, handing her the satellite phone. There's directions that go with it, but he takes the time to walk her through it nonetheless. Also his numbers, both office and home, just in case. He watched as she carefully tucked everything into her purse.

It's later in the afternoon now - past three - and Salome comes toddling over, handing Javier her ball and sitting down on the grassy ground with a world-weary sigh. 

"Okay, time for your nap I think, young lady." Miss Rivas plucked the child from the ground and stood to deposit her back in the buggy, then holding out her hand to him expectantly. He hands the ball over after a split-second of dumbstruck hesitation. 

"Well, goodbye then, Agent Peña." 

He stood. Offered her his hand to shake, which she took. "I'll call you during the week. What time is good for you?" 

"Any time between seven and ten. I'll probably be in Medellín again in a month. I'll let you know if I have more intel by then." He nodded, finally releasing her hand after realizing he still had her fingers clasped in his. She smiled and turned to leave, wheeling the buggy around from its resting position and onto the footpath. "Oh, and Agent Peña?" She turned halfway, throwing the words over her shoulder with a smirk. "Gabriela won't be available tonight, just so you know. We're meeting for dinner and general catching up."

His neck flushed hotly, both despite and because he'd had no intention of visiting her. 

"Thanks," he said stiffly, "Give her my best."

"Will do!"

Shaking his head, Javier watched her retreat until she disappeared from view behind a bend in the path.

-------------------------------------------------------

Further author’s note bc apparently I have more to say:

I’m gonna play a bit fast and loose with the timeline, because the show makes it look like Javi was sent back pretty much immediately and it only took those ~6 months to take down the cartel bosses, but in reality Escobar died in December of 1993 and the Calí godfathers weren’t arrested until summer of ‘95, so I’m sending Javi back to Colombia in the first half of ‘94 (April to be specific), meaning the time frame for this story is about a year

also I thought Maritza’s daughter in the series was still a baby, but upon rewatch it is actually stated in s2 ep4 that she’s two, and now I had to rewrite those parts. As to why she doesn’t speak, that’s actually something that will come up later and has nothing to do with my bad memory of the series. though tbh I probably assumed that because Olivia was a baby for like three years. (also according to the timeline I determined Maritza’s daugher would actually be between three and four at this point, but I’m going to disregard that. I’ve already had to age her up once and for the purposes of this story I need her to be still this little)

Chapter 2

[fae-fucker]

Review: There's Magic Between Us

by Jillian Maria

A diehard city girl, 16-year-old Lydia Barnes is reluctant to spend a week in her grandma’s small town. But hidden beneath Fairbrooke’s exterior of shoddy diners and empty farms, there’s a forest that calls to her. In it, she meets Eden: blunt, focused, and fascinating. She claims to be hunting fae treasure, and while Lydia laughs it off at first, it quickly becomes obvious that Eden’s not joking—magic is real. Lydia joins the treasure hunt, thrilled by all the things it offers her. Things like endless places in the forest to explore and a friendship with Eden that threatens to blossom into something more. But even as she throws herself into her new adventure, some questions linger. Why did her mom keep magic a secret? Why do most of the townspeople act like the forest is evil? It seems that, as much as Lydia would like to pretend otherwise, not everything in Fairbrooke is as bright and easy as a new crush…

I received a digital copy of the book in exchange for a review.

And here it is! Nearly a month late because I’m bad at time :)

But hey, that means the book is already out and you can go get it! Wee!

Also, here’s my review of Jillian Maria’s other book, The Songbird’s Refrain.

This review contains no spoilers aside from stuff that you can probably assume from the blurb, such as the existence of the fae and magic. Duh. Anyway, onward!

So, I’m gonna be straight with you fam, not that I can be anything else, but to spare any potential author their feelings and maybe prevent them from reading the review, not that that would happen, I hope:

This book was not for me.

Now, that doesn’t mean it was bad. Far from it, I think it’s pretty much exactly what it’s advertised as and anyone who thinks they might enjoy it will defo enjoy it. It’s a polished work of art that’s professionally written and presented, on par with and often above a lot of traditionally published stuff, and if you want a fluffy magical sapphic YA romance, this is for you.

But it wasn’t for me. Or, at least, I don’t think I’m the target audience. I enjoyed reading it, don’t get me wrong, but my enjoyment was always lukewarm, like I wasn’t quite getting the full experience. And that’s more on me than the book.

I won’t structure this review the way I usually do, mainly because I feel like my problems with the book are all intertwined and stem from the same source, which is ... I’m not sure? Genre? Target audience? Intent? All of the above?

The writing still carries the same sort of easy-to-read style that was present in The Songbird’s Refrain, though the main characters’ voices are obviously vastly different.

Overall, I liked the writing on a technical level, and I’m once again impressed with the author’s ability to avoid swear words, though Lydia is a bit more of a potty-mouth than Elizabeth was.

Lydia has a clear personality and voice, and one of my problems is that maybe it was a little too clear at times.

I know how that sounds, but it could be a side-effect of the book’s target audience being teens. Both Lydia and Eden have extremely defined and spelled-out character arcs. Lydia is too reckless and spontaneous and needs to chill, Eden is too chill and calculating and needs to let loose. A fine concept in theory, a good mirroring for a romance, but here, its execution feels a bit like a checklist? It’s basically spelled out for us how one influences the other, the character acknowledge their own flaws and at the end note how the other has changed them for the better, rounded them out. It didn’t feel very natural, and I thought it would’ve been better to leave that stuff implied since it was already pretty obvious.

It doesn’t help that both Lydia and Eden are far, far too mature for any sixteen-year-old I’ve ever met. They both recognize and acknowledge their feelings as irrational and apologize exactly for what they’ve done wrong, which sure, maybe is feel-good and a positive influence upon a teen reading this, but for me just felt a bit unrealistic. My favorite part of the book was when Lydia and Eden had a fight and Lydia stomped off all pissy and Eden refused to apologize later. It showed them being teens, individuals, idiots, flawed people who are growing up and learning to deal with their emotions. And then it’s somewhat undercut by them both having perfect apologies afterward where they know exactly what they did wrong just based on intuition? Like, complete with “here’s what I did wrong and why that was bad of me.” Idk, maybe JM was a better person as a teen than I was.

I really can’t say a lot about the other characters. The heroes of the story were all defined and had motivations and flaws of their own, while the antagonists were either a faceless mob, a faeceless mob (get it?), or just a dude who shows up in the last chapters and then is immediately dealt with. Compared to the antagonists in TSR, these guys felt a little underwhelming. They were set up from earlier in the story, of course, but their inclusion still felt a bit last-minute instead of a natural progression and integration into the fabric of the story.

And, again, I get it. This isn’t about the villains or that conflict. This is about the love story and the familial bonds and everything else comes after. Which is fine, but not something I personally found very compelling.

I think my favorite character was Eden, because she was cranky and awkward and flawed to a degree that felt right. She made mistakes but had her reasons, she was unlikable at times, and she felt grief and remorse.

I also liked Lydia’s mother, who, despite being in fear or pain for a lot of her on-page presence, still loved her daughter fiercely. She felt a lot like a real parent, even if her and Lydia’s relationship was a bit too saccharine for me to fully get behind.

Now let’s talk about the plot, or rather, the pacing, which was my other big problem with the book. The first third is very slow, my dudes. It may have contributed to why it took me so long to finish the book, a lot of it is just Lydia faffing about. The book is very light on magic stuff in the beginning, and it would’ve been fine if it didn’t do a whole 180 at the end and turned into a low-fantasy menacing mystery, complete with the vague threat of a human-fae war. I would’ve liked to have seen less Lydia and Eden faffing about and more of that magic plot, and while I understand that the focus of the first third was character-building, it still could’ve been done with a more balanced spread of plot vs character interaction.

But here’s where my personal tastes cloud my judgment. I’m not a young teen, so maybe I don’t see the value in more compassionate and understanding teen characters who could serve as role models. I’m not a WLW, so maybe I don’t see the value in two girls faffing about looking for a magic stick in the forest. I’m not a fluff-enjoyer (whatever the proper word for that is), so maybe the universally loving and positive characters just don’t land as well for me.

I can’t say that I hated this book, because I didn’t. In fact, I really enjoyed the latter half of it. I thought the fae were cool and interesting and felt disappointed there weren’t more of them in the story. Despite my grumbling, I do still appreciate what the book tried to do with the comfortable and loving family relationships between the characters and their relatives. I can see how this could help other readers and make them feel seen or perhaps soothe them when they don’t have the same thing in their lives.

I can see what this book was going for. I respect it, and I respect the work and effort and love put into it. It oozes from every word like a warm, sweet sludge.

But I’m covered in goop now. And my hands are all sticky.

This wasn’t for me. But maybe it can be for you. If you want to read a sweet, magical and well-written gay YA romance, this is for you. It was specifically made for you, made for someone who craves this but doesn’t see enough of it. This book is important for what it represents and for what it is. And I hope with all my heart you love it as much as it deserves to be loved, as much as it loves you for reading it.

[throwingideasatthewall]

Clone Wars     Shadow      Warriors

            Seas 4

Oh    this-   just    screams      edgy        ...   Whelp

So is Jar      Jar an     adult,       now,?            (Asking because before his    characteri         zation was force of nature to child

Now he    seems to have his own    personality.

Which is fine   if you want to change some details for the sake of a    better story,      (Or to simply      explore         a new       angle,).    Aesthetic

     Just.            need to make sure I’m holding them to the right standard,

    Okay,

   That-         was    relatively     adult,

  Mm

   Um.

   I

 Aight        .           .       Well-

   Wait 

    Did they just call Jar Jar     away from      Cou-ncil-

    .         I mean they are clearly    trying       which          is   some thing       I do       give credit   for-

   Though                The             Tone              Is            Robot-                 Ic-

       (Though that might be int-         entional since it seems to be hinting that this lady is practicing some kind of         mind tricks on him

   (Aka, he’s doing it         under           tox, because we don’t do suspension of choice in     dra-         mat         ic       Me-     -dia,

 S’up

 What?

  I-

  -

   H-elp

Screw my own   accou-   -ntability     -      See that was the correct   -amount of   emotion-

.        Okay        -         Right-

  Sus-       (pic)

    No one noticed the obvious people right there?

  Like not even      Mr. sus         there?

[or are they just so    kind that it’s like   oh yeah we were just talking hate speech     but go right ahead?

Logic?

 There

  Yeah    some shit is definitely going on,

   For sake of argument*     sake, i’m just going to assume that his reaction to      toxic    behavior

*Account     ability-

 Any way

  I-

  I’m still      going to try,

  Despite  you clearly saying you want understood

   Because assumed authority        - and assuming you know better than a person about themselves

     Is totally ok-

     - In this         society

-[Cries        in       sad    “accountability,”     -of-      war,        ]

  Whelp,

  In-    flue-     n      -c      e

 Still an  adult-

  Okay-

 Imagine    it was just a normal necklace     and he pulled that shit-

[Ok for the sake of argument I’m going to assume the necklace is symbolism for toxic influence,

  Being around it         enabling]

  It-         -       His voice voice dropped like         - 6 octaves

     Also I swear if they try to   excuse him      for his actions-

     No

    Mind over matter     -Okay, so they’re not excusing him for his   -actions,

   Me-          an         -       OK so it’s not naturally evil it    just comes down to the users      so that dude was still totally responsible,

  Didn’t    change    - much

    -     Ha-Ha

  Actual     gas     -lighting”

    Also     persuade,            -             Okay,     good not excusing him       from his actions,      -      Thing

The   gaslighting goes deep      -      Also isn’t the Darkside supposed to be      negative over involvement?      -       Aight-         -       -           A-lone

  Oh yeah that’s a great idea let’s just let the  dude that just got gaslighted and completely fell forward go back into the person who did it,

 👍

     Genius     

    (This Jedi Council is fucking                  brilliant)

     Gas-       Light-         Ing

(Note;      Confronting the gas lighter is never the way       to do it       (Inter-             Gen-)          (Excluding accountability of the abuser     (Gen-break           Venting Pro-      Ced- u        re)

 [as you’re usually too angry     to let them get a word in edgewise        And remain;           in control)

  With inter- gen productivity,         They are possibly given       five warnings before         Being          Kick        ed-]

   For the sake of argu-       ment as well       as simplicity-

    We’re stick       -ing with        bas-         ic-

    If someone’s acting toxic        with you, you         reflect and you don’t have to         hang out with anyone         you don’t want to,

    Logic

   This dude      is very clearly making it obvious that    he’s willing to listen to this person,

 And, enabling

“Cl-”

See he’s gaslighting him again      because   he thinks he can get away with it,

With no   accoun-       tability-

 (Or the small bit      this society      believes      in     which is    jail,”

Wr-

Oh!

 Is he a     Gungan      Jedi?

  Also,

  You Don’t  

    SAY!

(The repeated Gaslighter      who has shown multiple times to be     toxic,       Was toxic,    (And prepared to use any means to      subvert the         will? 

Prize  for the  most   in  competent      Je      di

 Like,        Serious-         (Really had to put those two    accoun  t-      ability- cells      to good -    use-”

(For   matting       issue-)

  The writer just saving us the effort of him coming downstairs -all feckin- weird, and the   obvious    “should’ve seen that coming,     “

   ?             ha-ha

    What?

Oh yeah       no the creepy magical stuff wasn’t enough of a      fecking clue in-

  Appar-

   Whelp-

  He   snapped out of that quick-

  Like didn’t even need a      reverse- mind trick

   Good for      him-

   And - actual-     nar-    rative-        -

   Whelp,

   Wreck-ing      -house

       Okay, but how do you think this is going to look to the general public like two Jedi,( very good at persuasion -    mind tricks’ -just showed up, now they’re leader and said Jedi are wreck-ing one of their minster’s houses-  

     One who could’ve     feign-           ed lack of support for the        war

     Like if this is a     set up-  

 the chips-      are about to fall,

 Da-

Okay, seriously how obviously evil,    was this person?

Like we have a weird creepy room,     The robots apparently hanging from the    chandelier    (eck)         And      the knife

   Like if this person      ever-       went-   through a checkpoint

   Also,        Oh-

    That-

   (That     really        does not      look good,)

    Bo-ss

   Yeah,       she clearly has    medical experience,

 (Also yeah    that’s really going to make it    better-”

 Oh yeah the    senator was      seen trying to clean up the      evidence-

    Well the Jedi ran out     full sword’s- a blazing

    (Instead of you know the       Senator chasing after him,         While the peacekeeper stayed behind and tried to        tend to the person,]

   Great     -        -       Or    Not-

Well- tensions    just got raised,

  Of,

 Ai.     Ght, 

 Whelp,

(Okay, no way he’s totally not dead      but sure-)

 A-i-

  -

 Whe-

   That-       sucks-          -         Un-     Con-cious

    That-   doesn’t tell me anything else-

   Like;        Critical      condition?

   D-usk

   Li-terally       no one else?

    (Like don’t get me wrong I’ve been a pretty big Jar-jar fan ever since the change-)

   But really, the Senator, the person that spends the most time away from your - planet

   That’s the person,     they trust the most?

  Ai-

  Hm-

Oh yeah just put on the deadly leaders hat-

   The rese-mblance-

   Not really?

   I mean all humans technically    look the same-

  But-

 Pretty sure Jar jar is a lot      scrawn-         thin        -er

    Also if they’re not going to listen to him as him       they’re not going to listen to him      as he pretends to be their (dead) leader

Also, please don’t go with the      liar revealed plot,

    Yeah no, they have completely different kind of light.   tones,

     The face structure-

    Co-mpletely         different-

     -

   Nope

 -Dead

 Di-ssent

  Agree

   I-

   OK yeah I’m just gonna go over the fact, that as previously state,  I am not a huge fan of the liar revealed plot-

    -or lying

  (No because it’s- unrealistic-    - or there’s anything wrong with it

  -people do lie

     -maybe because of how overdone and             poorly done it’s been,

             -With the liar getting off Scott free without any                  weight

               But I really don’t like this               plot-

-And    the   skip    button    maybe   used     ad-     nausuem-   -

       [Well- shit       [for reference; I was using the skip button ad nausuem when I randomly stopped at the part      with    Greivous

        Things just got a whole lot worse]

         [Tumblr             Refresh]       -

   Any        Way,

   Aww,     That’s kind of nice the    friendship and reliance       the dude has on      Other-        Half            -         Yes        ‘Boss       Leoni’        when someone gets         tox         you leave-        - In a      - relation          ship-  

      Also yeah he’s definitely not       ‘Boss         Leoni’            -            He would’ve stayed and tried to take the    tox

 (Aka Jar-jar is less ena-     bling, les-        tox-     And     Doesn’t       Take        It        For          Much        More.            Than            He            Has               To,

        (He’s   les   -s

      Dyfun.  -c)

      Okay

       Good            Job     -     Also - yeah   how’d you manage that         -         That-

Didn’t get   car   ried up the chain of   com-     mand-        -            Then again Gri-   evous has shown to be a pretty   shit boss.     -      So I can’t blame these guys    for being like yeah compl-      ete stranger     I will totally      take a nap       -right    ,now-         -      You        kinda      have      sticks-        -    [The rain is   really    nice,]

[is this the first time we’ve seen them use active     particle effects      for the camera?

  Either way       it’s really        nice            -

Oh,

They’re    

electric     sticks,

That makes   sense

[- bet     ter      for      Figh     t-      In-       g-

Stop one     1v1     -ing-        It

    I

  W-h

   Again this is what happens when you 1v1 it    and    don’t assume accountability-     - -   

 [Don’t fight a metal cyborg with metal sticks when you’re not prepared to take it, full way,)

   I-

  [I feel like this is supposed to be some    big build up but they only shared like one scene where dude was completely silent,]

  Like,

   Sacr-ifice

    Die to take someone out with you

[Great

  Now

   Ouch]

   Are   they actually going to kill off      grievous because this isn’t look-ing    too    - good      -         Shit-

 Dude-      is still not dead-       -       How?        -          Whelp-           -          Oh,    hey      where the fuck    did you come      from,

 I-           Ack.      Br-u-      Tal

W-el

 -       Un         -         M           -              Plan-

“ damn it        he messed up the       script-,           -Pal   - patine

     Cap-

    Prison   break-

   Also yeah     that’s probably like        a vacation    for him-

 Given     how toxic these assholes     are           -            Ex- change           -           Damn             Ship      per-

      Also screw the 150 or how many other                 sena   -tors        -       Only     Amidala           -      matters          -          A-       ight-     -      Also, dude knows where everyone’s      lair,      Is,

 Like he pissed off Grievous with    -his

 Now he’s just chilling in this      dude’s    sipping earl gray       Or-      Some        Shit-

  Him

  Okay

 Getting a little    ahead of yourself     episode-       -       O k

    I

   Hearing this,  Skywalker doesn’t immediately run back      shout        -ing      nope-        - -       Because, to my knowledge the speaking at      room volume,

  Not    whispering        and the distance        isn’t enough to      -explain it             -            Ai          -   -           Wel-             -      There goes one        min-ion-             -             Droids are apparently    expensive enough to      chastise    Grievous          over-

  But sen-tient - beings are        a dime’     a ‘dozen-

    (Also    gaslighter’s.     don’t give a shit about        you     dear,       God,

  The Painful     dramatic-        irony-

 *tra-      gic-      Wh-      -Oa

 Ai     -     Ri-

  An

  Wh-     -elp,

   You know if it wasn’t for the exposure     earl-        ier   

I would assume they would think that the Jedi was just killing all their Im-por-        tant- elected officials

     Why?

     Wh-at

    He’s right.    -         But dude- that’s pretty      ham fisted-

   I mean-

  How many episodes          (and       possibly        seasons-)      do we have to            go-            - -     Anakin-       is a dick    to lanterns-       -        Also the random theme of the     bots-      coming out of nowhere-    continues-       -     St     -op-          -        Wh-       elp-

    .

    ?         (He          live?)

      I-

      ?

  Good           Play-

     Ah-

    To-

       Oh, yeah,       He’s alive we’re not going to bring that up in any      mention-able way?

      Ike

    Wh     e     l-      p

     Oh           -     That was   -nice-

   You deceived everyone and lied to all          our people,  you’ll make a great      leader,

   Or a great council/    committee leader considering that they do have an open position          ,            Best

I like that they had one bad ass fall and had it replace-d by Dooku being particularly bad-ass       -          In his      place-

In the trade off near the end really speaks to the     frag-ility of war

   I thought-

   It was pretty al-right    Though it really did seem like     - they were trying to build up to something but the structure unfortunately        just didn’t support it,

   Which is unfortunate because they do seem like      bits- that could’ve been nice

   Like Jar-jar being a constant       peacekeeper-

   The underwater        nations-

     Wars be-           tween          - Those               Dude’s

   And that    general guy      -        Who seems to be like he was supposed to be this     - really big deal

 [probably intended to do something      massive in the previous       arcs,]

    But, here,    all he did was that one scene,

    [Would’ve worked better if he was like this Re-       Public Gen-       Er          Al-

    To the      shark guy-

     And Akbar,

     Was just like the resident         enforcer-

     Or something to do with the       prince

    I think it would’ve really worked better with the concept of        ‘being taken’        under,               As well that possibly being a good contrast between     Jar Jar         binks          And        Char-        If Jar- jar got promoted-        With Char being eager at first but then realizing he just         can’t-          And Jar- Jar being reluctant at first but realizing he      can-

   [Note; assumed authority is bad,         Just- some people are better at using it for venting         than others)

   Nope boomers vs throw-         it-back, boom-

       I-

     And it really did feel like this episode       -should’ve been the split one 

   Nearing the end- it started to feel like the 1st-       part of a second ep-

    Which is fine

    Just cut-        of-

   Episode all around being al-right, with just several parts that didn’t make quite sense including the emphasis on the general for that one scene,

[bi-outta-cordonia]

Takeshi and the Five

I got my tin foil hat on backwards and I’m ready to fucking party. This is gonna be a long one so most of it is gonna be stuck under a read more. So let’s begin:

BB today, amirite?? Shit got fucked and got fucked fast but the only person I’m really worried about is Jax and everyone closest to him. And by everyone, I mean there might be some really interesting things that could potentially explain his mentor, Takeshi Watanabe’s backstory. In today’s chapter, Jax reveals a piece of information that Takeshi told him long ago and made him swear not to say anything about: Kano, a 500 year old psychic vampire was in Japan and, despite his efforts to respect his mentor’s wishes, Jax tells the group about Kano hoping he might be able to help unlock MC’s powers to help them stop Rheya. 

What we know about Takeshi is that 700 years ago, he served a powerful woman in the middle of feudal Japan. This woman was Aiko Nakamura:

She was a powerful clan head that somehow came into contact with Gauis and Kamilah during this era. They seemed to provide services to her clan, slaughtering her enemies and helping her clan gain control of various territories. In the midst of this, her father wound up passing away, passing on the title to her and leaving her in control of her clan. She developed a relationship with Kamilah but was able to determine that Gauis and Kamilah were not exactly who they said they were, that they weren't human. 

After a particularly hard fought battle, Aiko summoned her soldiers and had Gaius and Kamilah divulge the truth under threat of death. They revealed to her that they were immortal and only sought to build a home for creatures like them. Sensing an opportunity, the two of them promised Aiko power beyond imagining. She could become immortal, unkillable to her enemies and conquer those that would stand against her. She took that deal. 

And it seems that Takeshi did as well. 

The one thing that seems to be evading us at this moment is how Takeshi went from this:

To this:

He was a samurai that served a distinguished lady and powerful family. More importantly, he was a vampire that was originally from Japan who somehow wound up in America and started a revolution of sorts with the hopes of killing the New York Council. So how did this happen? What led from point A to point B?

My theory is this: Takeshi may have served Aiko for some time but when he accepted the gift of vampirism, later down the road things changed as society changed and he was given power he had not possessed while living in service of Clan Nakamura as a human. He was given power and prestige, control that his mortal self had not known. He was given a spot on that led to him becoming one of the Five of Japan.

What we know of the Big Five comes from Jameson’s notes on them and, what Jameson did know was not a whole lot. The Big Five were secretive and did not find themselves getting involved in global affairs all that much:

They built a vampire kingdom that predates the American kingdom’s level of freedom. They also seem to have relatively powerful vampires within their midst: 

I think Takeshi was given a place amongst these vampires, possessing power as an elder and holding reign over vampires that flocked to the Five and adhered to their demands. Aiko seems a woman who is ambitious and desires power for herself and the Five seemed content with having their kingdom without outside interference messing with their kingdom. I think a big part of how they were able to set up their kingdom came with Kamilah and Gaius’s help. The two of them sought to build homes in places outside of Europe, where vampires were subjected to attacks from the Order of the Dawn on a constant basis. The Five were likely among one of the first shadow kingdoms that were able to establish themselves having power in the same sectors that the Order held power in Europe--politics, infrastructure, and the like. 

I think Takeshi was a part of this. I think he may have been immersed in it for some time. He could partake in the same pleasures that many of the wealthy vampires we’ve come across can. As much blood as he wants, all the flesh he could indulge in but a mere snap of a finger away--I think he may have enjoyed the power he had for some time or at least reveled in it.

But given his personality? The kind of person we come to know him as? I don’t think he’s always seen it as something that should be so easily given. 

I think the Five of Japan could be as terrible as the New York Council. I think that they held power over life and death itself. I think that vampires within their shadow kingdom had to essentially grovel for mercy and prostrate on hands and knees for the right to keep their lives to some of the most powerful creatures in all of Japan. I think it may have disgusted him after a time. I think Takeshi has always been a man that was not afraid of shedding blood and fighting, but the obsession with power? The need for it? It was never in his heart the way it was for the others. 

I think he may have had a falling out with the Five, but most especially Aiko. He likely served her clan out of honor. He likely joined her amongst the Five to honor his bond with her. But I don’t think he was built to be as ruthless as she was. As willing to do what it takes to obtain power of all things. 

He was a man that focused on justice above all. Doing the right thing may not have come easy but he endeavored to do it when he could. 

I think this falling out led to him leaving Japan and leaving the Five. I think he crossed the seas and found himself in New York City. He likely knew of Gaius setting up a shadow kingdom in America. He likely knew of Gaius’s temperament and the kind of person that he was. He would’ve heard about Gaius being killed by his progeny and a council sitting place rather than a king as Gaius intended. 

I think when he arrived, he heard of the New York Council and had hope that things would be better. 

When he arrived he found out that things were not. 

The six clans of New York were divvied up between all of Gaius’s progeny, people who found themselves drowning in wealth beyond imagining and who held control in various sectors of power within America. Priya LaCroix, entertainment head and mistress of the night; Adam Vega, political prodigy; Lester Castellanos, head of industry; Cecil Romano IV, the “Baron,” and king of the criminal element; Adrian Raines, former soldier and technological lifeline of the New York Council; and Kamilah Sayeed, Gaius’s former queen and butcher--

Their rule was tight and their decisions were final. Only a handful of vampires were given the honor of making up their clans, around 30 between each of them. But Takeshi would’ve seen the masses that made up the unaccounted for. The ignored. 

While the Council held reign, their vampires held everything but self-control. Members of their clans would feed on unwilling humans, often times draining them of all their blood and murdering them outright. In the streets, those that survive may find themselves returning to life as Clanless. Vampires with no brand and no one to support them during such a trying time. Worse yet, while these Clanless vampires walked about, their very existence is deemed a threat to the greater community. Takeshi would’ve known about the ferals. He would’ve seen firsthand what happens to vampires who exist without a proper brand and what must be done with them. 

He would’ve come to America and seen the way the New York Council turns a blind eye to the atrocities their branded vampires commit and how they would condemn those that were unfortunate enough to become their victims to brutal deaths. He would’ve been in America during the last clan war that rocked the city. He would’ve seen all the helpless Clanless victims that the Council’s vampires left behind. He would’ve Turned many of them in the hopes of saving their lives. And in the hopes of forcing violent change. 

It was just like with the Five. Power remained everything and those that held it abused it gleefully. Takeshi was a man of honor, a man who valued justice and had seen enough bloodshed in his life that it would’ve boiled his blood to see these things happening and know that the New York Council was fine with doing absolutely nothing. 

He would’ve formulated a plan. He would’ve sought to undo the damage that the pursuit of power had done to those living back home in Japan. 

Along the way, he saved a young man’s life, another victim of the Council’s indifference:

And he finds himself mentoring this young man. He teaches him how to defend himself. He nurtures the man’s background of justice and freedom at any cost. He guides him when he has nothing left. He essentially takes the young man on as a student, as a son. 

Takeshi tells the young man about his past, though not all of it. He talks about a powerful woman he once knew:

And the gift he received for his loyalty. He speaks about the influence of the group that eventually came to be in Japan:

And a psychic with power beyond anything he had ever come to know:

But most importantly, Takeshi tells him that no matter what happens, the young man needs to remember the reason for why they are fighting. For why they are doing this. He tells him it’s because no one deserves to live a life under the boot heel of those that ascribe themselves superficial power. He tells him it’s because everyone deserves the chance to live a life of their own choosing. 

But what he doesn’t say? Is that they do this because he refuses to let his past mistakes reflect in a blossoming kingdom that could truly be a place of complete freedom for vampires.

I think Takeshi was a part of the Five of Japan and I so look forward to seeing his history laid before us. I look forward to seeing Jax tell us about Takeshi and for us to learn the truths that Takeshi could not reveal to Jax. I look forward to seeing the conclusion of Jax’s story and hope that it will be delivered in a manner deserving of him. 

Takeshi Watanabe and the Five of Japan. Jax Matsuo and perhaps the end of his story. I’m terribly excited.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 21

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​

“Hi mommy!” Millie cheerfully greets, as Esme journeys towards where her daughter sits on the shoreline, clad in one of her many bathing suits, head and most of her face covered by an oversized floppy sunhat. She’s the happiest when by –or right in- the water; calm and relaxed, that edge she always seems to carry softened and almost nonexistent.  

The ocean is a powerful antidote for all that ails you. Even Esme finds  that the mere sound of the waves and the smell of the salt that hangs in the air helps in easing the burden of the stress and worries that she often carries. And as beautiful as they are and how majestic the view from her back deck had been, that’s a feat even the mountains had never been able to accomplish.

“What are you doing?” she inquires, as she crouches down beside Millie, the little girl turning her face up for a kiss.

“Just stuff,” Millie replies, and turns a bucket of wet sand upside, adding it to the ‘castle’ that she’s already constructed. “Daddy said to stay here and not to go in the water without him.”

“And you actually listened? I’m impressed.”

“Well I don’t want a shark to eat me,” Millie explains, using the back of her sand covered hand to push wayward strands of hair out of her face.   “Daddy said that sharks like little girls with blue eyes and light brown hair the best. ‘Cause we taste like watermelon and that’s their favorite.”

Her mother smirks. “And you actually believed him?”

“Oh course! Daddy wouldn’t lie. And I’m not taking any chances. I do not want to get eaten by a shark.”

Esme glances over her shoulder, to where her husband is flat on his back, sprawled out in the middle of blanket; arms loose and relaxed at his sides, sunglasses on. “Is he dead?”

“God, I hope not,” Mille moans. “’Cause he’s the good cook and I’m getting hungry.” She wipes the sand from her palms onto her thighs, then cautiously lifts the edge of the receiving blanket that protects her baby sister –laying along her mother’s arm- from the brilliant sunshine.  “Hi Addie,” she presses a kiss to one tiny foot, followed by the other, then fixes the blanket.  “She’s awake. I think she smiled at me.”

“Well she likes you. You’re her big sister. You’re the one that used to talk to her and read her stories all the time when she was still in my belly. She probably recognizes your voice.”

“I hope so. And I hope she knows I’m not annoying like the other ones.”

“Your brothers are not THAT bad.”

“Oh, yes they are, mommy. I mean, I’d miss them if they weren’t here anymore. But they’re little assholes.”

“Amelia...”

“I know,” she sighs dramatically. “Bad language. I’m trying. I really am. It’s so hard though!”

“Especially when you’re around your dad as much as you are and he  has absolutely zero filter left.”

“He is totally a bad influence,” Millie agrees. “We had fun today. We went shopping and had ice cream and daddy made me buy him two blue Gatorades at the dollar store ‘cause we ended up being in there forty minutes instead of twenty. But I had to get glitter and paper so...” she shrugs. “He’s going to help me make birthday invitations.”

“He actually agreed to that?”

“Yup,” she sounds so much like her father, even with that one simple word. “He’ll do anything I want. Anything.”

“Except wear the tiara.”

“Oh, it’ll happen. He will wear the tiara. And I’m going to take a picture when he does and you’re going to put it on your Instagram.”

“I don’t think he’ll like that.”

“Oh well. He put the video of you up when you were sleeping and he gave you the wet willy.”

“That’s right. He did.”

“It’s only fair, mommy. He did you dirty. Now you have to do the same to him. I think you deserve revenge.”

“You know what I think?” Esme reaches under the hat to tuck hair behind Millie’s ears. “I think you’re an evil genius.”

“I don’t know if I’m evil, but I’m definitely a genius. You know,” she appears pensive for a moment. “Now that I think about it, I must be adopted.”

Esme laughs. “You’re a little savage.”

“I learn from the best,” Millie declares, then frowns as she notices her mother’s choice in foot apparel.  “Mommy, what the hell? Why are you wearing socks on the beach?”

“I don’t like the sand between my toes. You know that.”

“That is just weird.”

“I swear, if you start sounding or acting any more like your father...”

“I’m sorry. His DNA was stronger. It’s not my fault. It’s why I’m so awesome.”

“You definitely need to stop listening to him so much,” she lifts the brim of the hat and presses a kiss to her daughter’s cheek before standing up and wandering over to where her husband lies. “Are you alive?” she asks, digging her toes into his side, right between two of his ribs. “You better be because I haven’t gotten the chance to renew your life insurance policy yet.”

“What you would you get?” he responds. “Twenty bucks?”

“Twenty bucks?” she scoffs and settles down on the blanket besides him; placing Addie on his chest and stretching her legs out in front of her. “That’s generous. That’s ten more than what they offered.”

Tyler smirks. “Well one thing’s for sure. I can at least die knowing you didn’t marry me for money.”

“We had like what? A few hundred bucks between the both of us when you got out of the hospital? It’s safe to say neither of us were in it for financial gain.”

It had been incredibly easy to blow through nearly every cent either of them had in the bank, including whatever had been sitting in savings.  The first two weeks after Dhaka had been spent in a hospital in Mumbai, and Nik had refused to cough up the money to even cover a small part of the bill, citing that she couldn’t access private funds within the company, and there simply wasn’t anything left from the first and only payment they’d received from Mahajan Senior. In the end, neither Tyler nor Esme had received a penny from the Dhaka job, adding insult to grievous injury. Even transport to Australia had to be paid for out of pocket, and it had wiped out both of their checking accounts.  

Their start to their new life had been rough; a new apartment with barely any furniture in it, two months of inpatient therapy with only weekend visits home allowed, a baby on the way.  All while still trying to get to know each other outside of those five days in the dirty hotel room in Dhaka. But they’d gotten through it; every fight brought on by frustration, disappointment, and pain. Every harsh word spoken out of guilt and regret. Every time they didn’t know how they’d be able to put food on the table or properly take care of a baby once she arrived. But things slowly started getting better. Her old boss had contacted her saying she was owed a large chunk of money for previous work she’d done for him, even though she’d known full well it was just generous gift on his behalf. Then a check had come in the mail from Saju’s wife. Enough to cover six months' worth of rent and still have some left over. They’d never found out how she even knew who they were, let alone how she tracked them down.  

To this day, they’ve never actually spoken or met face to face. But once every three months an email arrives from Neysa, complete with pictures of her now teenage boy and an update on how they’re doing. No mentions of whereabouts; even behind bars, Mahajan Senior has a lot of pull in not just Mumbai, but all of India. His influences stretch far and wide, and almost seven years later, Saju’s inability to get Ovi away from Tyler and his eventual death is still viewed as a catastrophic failure.  It didn’t matter that his son had been rescued from Asif or brought home safely. Or that lives had been lost and others altered forever. Even Tyler, despite stepping up and giving Ovi a relatively normal life and the family that he both wanted and deserved, is regarded as an enemy. He was the one that stood in Saju’s way, after all, and more than once through the years Mahajan Senior has commented: “you don’t know how to die, do you”.  

****

“I think if we got through that first year intact, we can get through anything,” Esme comments.  

“That was a pretty shitty twelve months,” Tyler agrees, as he lays his palm on Addie’s back and wraps an arm around his wife’s waist, hand coming to rest on her hip. “There was some good stuff too. I mean, we got married and had Millie. But for the most part...”

“It was pure crap,” she finishes for him, and he nods. “But now look!” she cheerfully exclaims. “If anyone had have told you back then that this is where we’d be now, would you have believed them? That we would have gotten this far? Everyone was against us. Everyone. Nik, most of my family. And we’re the ones getting the last laugh. We’re the ones that are still together while their lives are shit. Is it wrong how happy that actually makes me? That we get to sit back and watch their lives fall apart?”

“Maybe a little bit wrong,” he says with a grin. “But I get it. There’s someone I wish was still here so I could rub it in their face.”

“Gaspar?”

He nods.  

“He did not like me for some reason. Kept calling me ‘that girl’ or ‘the girl’ even when I was in the room. What was up with that? I mean, other than the fact he was a complete sociopath.”

Tyler shrugs. “He was just protective I guess.”  

He doesn’t want to talk about it; Gaspar, the ten million dollars offer to give up her and Ovi. It still haunts him; how calm and callous the other man had been about the whole thing. As if it wasn’t two human beings that he was willing to sacrifice for the almighty dollar.  And he knows he’ll never tell her. The whole truth behind what had happened that night. What good would it do? Telling her that she’d come dangerously close to being thrown at Asif’s feet. The outcome would have been horrific; rape, torture, unbelievable abuse and cruelty. It’s bad enough that those thoughts still plague him. She doesn’t need them weighing her down.  And he’s thankful when she changes the subject.

“She wore you out, didn’t she,” Esme comments, a hand over her eyes; sheltering them from the sun as she watches Millie happily playing in the surf.

“She’s like having ten kids rolled into one. I’m starting to understand why her teacher is so tired at the end of the day. Millie plus twenty others?”

“Twenty? There’s thirty kids in her class.”

“What the fuck? Thirty?”

“Look, things have changed since you used to travel by horse and buggy to your one room schoolhouse.”

“You know what...” he slides his hand up to her side, then pinches the sensitive spot below her ribs.

“Ow! You shit head!” Esme cries, and then shrieks when his fingers did in just above the hip. Aggressively tickling her until she’s flat on her back; kicking and squirming and squealing for mercy.  Laughing until she succumbs to loud, painful hiccups. “You’re a dick!” she dramatically pouts and directs an elbow into his side;  still allowing him to draw her tightly against him, a hand coming to rest on the back of her head as he presses a kiss to her temple. “You almost made me pee myself,” she complains, as she rests her head on his shoulder and places her hand over his as its sits on Addie’s back.

“That’s what you get for making an old man joke.”

“I hear that getting extremely sensitive about aging is the first sign of senility,” she teases, and places a kiss just below ear, then to the scar on the side of his neck. And she pulls back to look at it, tracing a finger over the surface.

It’s almost seven years old now but has just begun to appear not as dark or swollen.  It will always be there; no matter much if softens. A lasting reminder of how close to death he’d actually come. Even now there are days where she can barely stand to look at it; filled with either immense sorrow or rage. And others where she feels nothing at all. Where it’s nothing more than one of the various battle wounds that take up residence on his body. She knows every single one and the stories behind them; able to find them with and trace them with her eyes closed.

“It’s really starting to change,” she comments, and then lays her hand on the side of his face and turns his head towards her, kissing him softly.

“It doesn’t both you are much anymore.” It’s more a statement than a question.  

“It never bothered me because of what it looks like. It’s never been about that. It bothered me because of what it represents.”

“You and I do not like at the same way. It reminds you of the end. Or what was almost the end. It reminds me of the beginning.”

She smiles at that and leans in to nuzzle the tip of his nose against his ear. Closing her eyes as she rests her forehead against his cheek, his hand moving from the small of her back to the nape of her neck and then higher; kissing her as he combs his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face and off her shoulders.

“You guys aren’t making babies, are you?!” Millie calls, her voice dripping with disgust. “I do not want another brother!”

Tyler chuckles. “This is not how babies are made,” he assures her. “Sometimes it starts out like this and then leads to babies being made.”

His wife scowls. “Don’t touch her things. What’s wrong with you? Amelia, we talked about this. It is not possible to have any more babies. Your dad got neutered.”

“What the fuck?” Tyler mutters. “Don’t tell her that.”

“What do you want me to tell her? You got the snip and had to lie on the couch for two days with a bag of frozen peas on your crotch?”

“You know how you always threaten me with sleeping on the couch? You keep pushing your luck, you’re going to end up there.”

“A full eight hours without you snoring or talking in your sleep? Sign me up. Awww...baby...” she gives a dramatic pout and places a series of kisses along his jaw. “...did I hurt your feelings? Did I upset your delicate sensibilities? I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I can think of one way that I’ll accept.”

“We only do that once a year. It’s not our anniversary yet. So no, not going to happen. Anything other than THAT.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Anything?”

“I don’t like that look you get when you ask that.”

“You trust me?” he asks.

“I’m not sure right about now.”

“Just trust me. I’ll go easy on you. I promise.”

She frowns. “You’re not even going to tell me what it is?”

“Nope. You’ll find out. Once the kids go to bed. It’s not that bad, I swear. I wouldn’t do anything that would hurt you or freak you out. It’s tame. For me, anyway.”

“Even at your tamest you’re dirty. With a capital D, so...”

“Trust me,” Tyler implores, then gives her a long, slow kiss before sitting up; one hand on the back of Addie’s head, the other on her bum. Grimacing at the pain that settles in his shoulder and the stiffness in his back. Some days it’s bearable; he can get by without popping any pain meds and time in the water or even standing under a hot shower is all the help her needs. Other days he can barely get out of bed and there isn’t enough medication in the world to even take the edge of. The lasting and crippling souvenir of a hard, punishing life.  

“You need to go and get that checked,” Esme scolds, as she kneels behind him, a palm pressed between his shoulders as she digs the fingers of the other hand into the most troublesome spot: to the right of the spine, on the edge of the shoulder blade. She doesn’t even need to ask anymore. She just knows. Every spot that aches, every trigger point that send pain and numbness shooting his entire arm and settling into his fingers.

“I probably should have gotten it checked when we first moved here.”

“You think, Tyler? You really think? You know what I think? I think we’ve far surpassed it just being a separated shoulder.”

“A fucked up shoulder is more like it,” he says through gritted teeth, then stretches his legs out in front of him and places Addie on his thighs.

“You were supposed to take it easy after the replacement surgery. Not go back to what caused all of the damage in the first place.”

“I don’t need to hear this.”

“Well, you’re going to hear it.”  She wraps her arm around his neck, resting it along his collarbone as she digs her thumb into the most sensitive and painful area of the muscle. Causing a litany of profanities to spill from his mouth; loud enough for Millie to stop what she’s doing and glance over her shoulder, a concerned frown on her face.  “Why did you wait so long?” Esme sighs. “I told you when you got back from New Zealand to go and have it looked at.”

“I just thought it was separated,” he speaks through clenched teeth, his eyes closed. “Then I thought maybe it was just the arthritis flaring up. Now...”

“Something is totally fucked in there. I can feel something moving around. And there’s a lot of clicking and popping going on. You’re probably going to need surgery. Again.”

“Okay Miss Negativity. I don’t need to hear this.”

“You’re going to hear it, you stubborn shit head. What are you going to do if it gives out while you’re training Ovi? Or worse. When you go and rescue his sorry ass. Then what?”

“First, I’m going to dope myself up and hope for the best. Second, there’s no guarantee that I’m going to have go and bail him out of trouble. Let’s just get past the first part, yeah?”

“You’re going to pass the first part because you didn’t go and get your shoulder looked at when you should have. You need to stop worrying about everyone else and take care of yourself for a change.”

“That’s rich. You of all people saying that. Okay....stop...stop...fuck...” he drops his head to his chest; sweat beats across his forehead and trickles down his temples.  

“Are you okay?” She leans in and pecks his cheek. “You look like you’re going to puke.”

“I feel like I’m going to puke.”

“Seriously, Tyler, you need to go and get looked at. I’m not fucking around. Enough is enough. Stop being so...I don’t know...so YOU.”  Heaving a sigh, she sits down beside him one again, one hand rubbing his back comfortingly, the other softly stroking his thigh. “Go and get it check,” she begs. “Please.”

“Nothing can be done about it right now anyway. It would have to wait until the shit with Ovi is done. Then I’ll go. As soon as it’s finished.”

“You better. Because I’m not above being the kind of wife that makes your doctor's appointments for you. You’re worse than the kids sometimes, I swear. They actually listen better than you do.”

“I know. I’m a pain in the ass.”

“Huge. A huge pain in the ass,” she concedes, then tousles his hair. “Did you know Kyle didn’t come home last night?”

He removes the receiving blanket from Addie’s face, smiling down at her as he leans forward and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I didn’t know he lived here now.”

“He walked Salena home and never came back. Not until you and Millie left to go into town. You know what that means?”

“He got more action than I did last night?”

“It means that there’s trouble in paradise. Or hell. However you want to look at him and Nik.”

“I don’t look at them at all, so...”

“What is the hold she has on you guys? We’ve established she’s not good in bed. She doesn’t give head so it’s not that either. She doesn’t even have big boobs or a nice ass.”

“First, she doesn’t have a hold on me. She never has. She was there if I wanted it. That’s it. No strings attached. I’d fuck her, she’d leave. That’s as far as it went. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Were your standards that low?”

“I was taking Oxy with booze. What do you think?”

“I think I came along at the right time.”

Tyler nods in agreement.

“You have to admit, Kyle is way too good for her.”

“Don’t drag me into this. I don’t care what either of them do. He wants to marry Nik, let him marry Nik. Who gives a shit? Don’t take it so personally. Do I think it’s fucked he’d hook up with someone that cause shit between us? Of course, I do. But if he's that stupid, he deserves to be miserable.”

“We’d be related to her,” Esme points out.

“And? We’d never have to see her. You think they’d come here all the time or something? Nik would never settle down here. Ever. Trust me.”

“Kyle wants to. Settle down here.”

“He’d never win against her. Stop worrying so much her so much. Yeah, she caused a lot of shit. Or tried to. But it didn’t work and us being together and being happy and having a family? That’s the best revenge against her. Your brother’s a big boy. Let him do what he wants. You can’t stop him from fucking up his life.

“He’s my brother.”

“And? Your brother knowingly got with someone who tried to ruin your life. If you ask me, he deserves whatever shit show he gets with Nik.”

“But...” she runs her fingertips along the top of his hand, then along the smooth metal of his wedding band. “...if we could get him hooked up with Salena....”

“I’m not getting him hooked up with anyone. Leave me out of this. You shouldn’t even be involved in this. We’re adults for fuck sake. Can we concentrate on our own relationship and our kids? Because those two things are all that matters to me.”

“I didn’t realize we were having problems to concentrate on.”

“Did I say there were problems? Other than I think you should mind your own business? Stop...” he drapes his arm across her shoulder and pulls her into him, kissing her temple. “...let’s just worry about what us and what goes on in our own house. Who cares what your brother is doing or who he’s doing it with. He can handle his own shit. He does not need you getting involved.”

“I just think...”

“Esme...”

“...that he...”

“Stop,” he gently orders, then tangles his fingers in her hair and draws her into a kiss. Longer time and more intense; closed mouth upon closed mouth. And the tip of his tongue just brushes against her top lip before he pulls away.

“Okay...” she sighs, and grins when she feels him kiss the tip of her nose. “...that was...nice...”

“Nice? Just nice?”

“Well I can’t show you just HOW nice because there’s little people here. But trust me. It was better than nice.”

“Just let it go. This thing with Nik and your brother.  If he fucks up, he fucks up. He’ll learn his lesson. Let’s just concentrate on us.”

“I hate to break it too you, honey, but if we haven’t been able to concentrate on just us in almost six years. Five kids, remember? Do we even exist outside of being parents anymore? Because I don’t remember the last time it was ‘just us’. And I’m not talking about sex, for the record. So let’s not get into that conversation again. When is the last time we actually went somewhere without out kids?”

“Well it was just you and I in the bathroom this morning while I took a leak and you brushed your teeth.”

“That was a really nice three minutes of connecting with you, I must say. I’ll see you again in another what? Five, six years?”

“You wanted a big family. I was fine with three.”

“Pardon me? You’re the one who wanted a fourth and a fifth. You’re the one who talked me into it, remember? You wanted a half dozen kids and a stay at home wife and I was more than willing to give you what you wanted. So don’t start with that.”

“That means there’s one more to go if we agreed to half a dozen.”

“Oh no!” she laughs. “Don’t you even dare. I am done. I am babied out. You want another one, you go find yourself a second wife to give you more kids. Because this wife is done.”

“One more wouldn’t hurt.”

“It would hurt my vagina, okay. It’s seen five kids already. It’s a hot mess down there.”

“A SEXY hot mess,” he grins, and nudges her playfully with his elbow.  

“You are like the most biased husband on the planet and I love you so fucking much for it,” she wraps her arm around his neck and presses a noisy kiss to his cheek. “No wonder I keep you. You do wonders for my ego.”

“So one more?” He hopefully attempts.

“You’re insane. Why would you go and get the operation done and then decide three months later you made a mistake? Why didn’t you just hold off until after Addie and then we had this discussion?”

“I thought we were done. That was it. Five.”

“Because we agreed we were done. And now you’re changing your mind. Just like you did when Declan was supposed to be the last one. What is wrong with you? What is this overwhelming obsession to breed?”

“It’s not an obsession. I just...I don’t know...” he shrugs, fingers fidgeting with the hem on Addie’s sundress. “...I just want to leave something good behind when I go, I guess.”

“And you’ve made five very good things. Five very beautiful and healthy and incredible things. So why...?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just wouldn’t mind one more. Even it out.”

“She’s only three weeks old,” Esme reminds him.

“I didn’t say I want one right now. I mean eventually. A year from now. Two years from now.”

“That is not what you’re thinking, and I can tell. That is not what’s going on in your head, Tyler.  This started as soon as all this Ovi crap came about. As soon as you agreed to get back into things, you started thinking about this, didn’t you.”

“Maybe...”

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” She combs her fingers through his hair, presses a kiss to his cheek. “That beautiful, troubled mind.”

“I don’t know,” Tyler admits.“I just thinking about if things go wrong...if I have to help Ovi and things just get even worse...what have I left behind? Did I do enough? Did my life mean anything?”

“Your life means so much more than you think. To me. To your kids.  Don’t ever doubt that, please. You will have left so much behind. You helped make five amazing little human beings. Who adore you and worship you and think you’re the most amazing man in the entire world. And you know what?”  She curls both arms around one of his “I think you are most amazing, beautiful man in the world, too. You don’t realize it, but you saved me just as much as I saved you. Don’t ever doubt how important you are to me. Or your kids. Okay?”

He nods and places a kiss to her brow before resting his forehead against hers. Sometimes even the biggest and the strongest need to feel appreciated and validated. Even if they’d never admit it out loud.

“And as far as this sixth kid thing goes, can you give me at least a few months? Because right now I’m worn out and sometimes I don’t even know if I can handle the five I already have.”

“Well for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty fucking amazing.”

“You really are the most biased husband on the planet,” she grins.

“It doesn’t make it less true. And speaking of five kids, where’s The Ginger?”

“He didn’t want to come home from Salena’s and I was not dealing with the tantrum that would have ensued if I’d have forced him. You might be able to carry him all the way from there to here, but he’s damn heavy and I’m not even attempting it.  I told her that you’d come and get him after dinner.”

Tyler groans. “You’re going to send me over there? Do you know what I had to deal with yesterday when she came by here? Twice? Do you know she was checking out my dick?”

“She told me. She’s hardly shy in case you haven’t noticed. She wanted to know how I haven’t been split in two yet.”

“Jesus Christ...”

“What? Sometimes I wonder myself. Are you blushing? Holy shit. Is Tyler Rake blushing? I’ve seen it all now. You’re not usually like this. You usually don’t mind when a woman checks you out.”

“They’re usually not checking out my dick and my wife isn’t usually talking to them about my dick, so...”

“Baby, just so you know, I brag about every part of you. Not just your dick. Did Kyle call?”

“That was a weird transition. Why does he talk about my dick too?”

“I’d be very worried and disturbed if he did. I was wondering where our other children are. If he’s actually surviving out there somewhere with them or if you turned off your cell so he wouldn't call for help...”

“He left a voicemail. Said he’d have them home before bedtime. I said to keep them for a few days but...” he shrugs. “...he didn’t agree to that. Sorry. I tried.”

“You know what means? For the first time since Declan was born, testosterone is not in charge of the house. Now it’s estrogen.  Oh my God, you poor man.”

“You’re not PMS’ing, so I’m okay. I’ve survived almost seven years of that shit every month. I can survive one night.”

“We’ll see about that,” she gives him a wink, then places her hands on his shoulders to help push herself up onto her feet. “I’m getting too old for this shit. You’re going to be picking me up and carrying me to the house one of these days. I think I’m falling apart too.  Millie!” she calls to her daughter. “Let’s go and cleaned up. Daddy’s taking us out on a date.”

Tyler grins. “He is, is he?”

“When you do ever get to go to dinner with two and a quarter beautiful women?”  

“There was this one time in Thailand...”

“No one wants to hear about your conquests, Tyler. And by no one, I mean me.”

“Daddy...” Mille stomps over. “...did you see this shit?” she wildly gestures towards her mother’s feet with the plastic shovel in her hand.

“Millie, just don’t ask. Let your mom be as weird as she wants. I’m used to it.”

“Socks on the beach!” Millie huffs. “What the hell, mom.”

Tyler smirks, and clutches Addie to his chest with one hand, offers the other to Millie and lets her think she’s pulling him to his feet. “I bet you’re extra glad my DNA was stronger the day you were made, aren’t you?”

“So glad,” Millie agrees, and then shrieks when he scoops her effortlessly with one hand, giggling hysterically and her legs kicking as he tucks her under his arm, carrying her ‘football style’.  

“You know...” Esme muses, as she curls an arm around his waist. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe things will go okay. With Ovi.”

“They will,” he promises. And hopes that those words sound more convincing to her ears than they do to his own.

[cincinnatusvirtue]

Owain Glyndwr and the Battle of Bryn Glas (1402): Welsh independence seems a reality...

For a country of small size and population like Wales, its people will punch above their proverbial weight in terms of national pride.  Theirs is an ancient history rife with colorful characters and stories.  To those unfamiliar with Wales and the Welsh people, it is not uncommon to know it is part of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, or part of “England” in common parlance.  Beyond that, Wales is often the unrecognized part of Britain, relatively unknown to England and Scotland and perhaps even Northern Ireland largely due to the politics there.  Yet, while Wales is for statistical and some legal purposes conjoined with England, it would be wrong to assume they are or have always been one and the same.

The vast majority of Wales’s population speak English as their first and only language but in fact Wales and the Welsh people have a unique and separate people and history from England: ethnically, linguistically and culturally and this was true throughout the ages and to more varied degrees true to the present day.

Wales is the peninsula in western Great Britain that juts out from England and towards Ireland and the Irish Sea.  The Welsh people are like their Irish and Scots cousins, a Celtic people (a related cultural and ethnolinguistic group) that settled the British Isles during the so called British Iron Age in the centuries prior to the Roman exploration and conquest of Britain.  Celts may have not been the first people in Britain and Ireland but they became the predominant ones, intermixing and assimilating those who came before.  They had a set of interrelated cultural traits, religion and languages, they would diversify over time due to geography and local circumstances.  The widely recognized Celtic languages that survive today are in fact: Welsh, Irish (Gaelic), Scots-Gaelic, Cornish, Breton and Manx.

Those who became the Welsh prior to Roman conquest inhabited all of modern England, Wales and the most southern reaches of Scotland.  They were a collection of tribes in various parts of the land that collectively spoke a Celtic language known as Common Brittonic and the people were collectively known to foreigners as Britons or the British, hence the modern name.  Following the Roman invasions under Julius Caesar in 1st century BC and the later conquest in 1st century AD which involved a mix of alternating wars or peaceful vassalage depending on the British tribe, the Britons became more or less assimilated to the Roman way of life.  Roman colonists and troops came to garrison the province of Roman Britain or Britannia, but by and large the citizenry remained ethnic Celts.  These Celts carried on their own traditions but also took on Roman ones and vice versa both cultures influenced one another and forged a new group called Romano-Britons.  The Romans built cities such as London in addition to roads and other infrastructure and spread their influence as far north and west as the modern Welsh peninsula and Anglo-Scottish border where famously Hadrian’s Wall was built to keep out the related but distinct Celts and precursors to the Scots known as the Picts who culture and more isolated geography in the Scottish Highlands prevented Roman conquest and assimilation.  The same was true of Ireland, the Romans were aware of it and made limited commercial contact with it but did not settle it or attempt to colonize it for any lasting period of time between the 1st and 5th centuries AD.  Due to the collapse of the Western Roman Empire, the Romans withdrew from Britain altogether in effect granting a de-facto independence.

From this the Romano-Britons split from each other and formed various petty kingdoms, a political system that was to have major implications in the coming centuries.  Romano-Britons had largely converted to Christianity by the time of the Roman withdrawal.  However, the Romano-Britons now had to fend for themselves from raiders from Ireland and Scotland as well as infighting amongst themselves in their various kingdoms.  Though there are chronicles that suggest a high king of the Britons that unified rule, the evidence is conflicted.  What is known is that in the 5th century AD, during the so called Dark Ages of Europe, the very start of the Middle Ages, groups of Germanic warriors various modern Denmark, Germany and the Low Countries arrived on British shores.  Their numbers and exact reasons for being there aren’t known and are controversial in modern debate.  However, the Germans are traditionally told to have been invited by a British king who sought Germanic mercenaries as troops to fend off Pictish and Gaelic raiders and suppress other rivals in Britain.  The story goes that the Germans did just that in exchange for land but gradually overstayed their welcome and gradually more numbers arrived or arose through intermarriage between the Germans and Romano-British giving rise to a community that increasingly was at odds with their Celtic Briton hosts.  Collectively these Germans became known as the Anglo-Saxons and began speaking a Western Germanic language that developed into Old English.  They had their own pagan mythology at odds with the Celtic Christianity they encountered but in time through war and cultural assimilation, they adopted Christianity as well.  While some Romano-Britons and Anglo-Saxons intermarried and became the foundations to the English people and eventual Kingdom of England.  

Many Celtic speaking Britons preferred their own culture and independence and gradually were pushed back by war or other factors to the far western reaches of Great Britain.  Here in isolation they developed into four related but eventually distinct dialects and cultures.  Those Britons in the southwest of England in modern Cornwall, were cut off from other Britons and became the Cornish people with its own isolated dialect and later language developed from Common Brittonic.  Other Britons fled to Western France and formed the Breton people on westernmost peninsula, Brittany.  In the northwest of England and lowlands of Scotland a third group of Britons became known as the Cumbrians and spoke the now extinct Cumbric language  The fourth and most well known of these groups moved into the western peninsula that became Wales and became known as the Welsh people, speaking the dialect of Brittonic that became known as Welsh.  The word Wales or Welsh is in fact an English or Germanic designation for the Britons which meant foreigner or stranger, a bit ironic coming from a non-native people.  The Welsh and indeed the Britons together referred to themselves and their land as Cymru, which means “common people” or “related people” of the British lands.

From here on out, relations between what became the Kingdom of England and Wales to the west were interrelated for better or worse.  Over the centuries both Wales and England remained divided, it wasn’t until the later Viking invasions which affected the Anglo-Saxons and Welsh that a more unified polity came out of them.  Firstly, the Kingdom of England unified in the wake of Anglo-Saxon resistance to the new wave of Germanic invaders called Vikings.  Though there was always opposition to and from the Welsh towards the English during this time too, the Vikings were often seen as the greater threat.  Following the Norman Invasion of 1066, by French descendants of Vikings from Normandy France, the Anglo-Saxon rule of England was overthrown but the Normans likewise found opposition from the Welsh.  It was through the Norman presence in Wales that England tightened its grip to its Celtic neighbor to the west.

Wales for its part was never unified as one kingdom but instead remained a series of petty kingdoms or principalities most notably Powys, Gwent, Dyfed and Gwynedd.  These kingdoms warred with each other and the English and this disunity allowed for the English to continue their gradual influence over them, being played off of each other as political rivals who sought total power over the whole of Wales.  There was a title of King of the Britons or Prince of Wales, known in Welsh as “Tywysog Cymru” served as a sort of overlord similar to the High King of Ireland which was likewise divided between various petty kingdoms.  The Prince of Wales was variously a ceremonial or nominal role or de-facto ruler of parts of most of Wales at different times, depending on the title holder, typically the King of Gwynedd, the most powerful Welsh kingdom, located in northwestern Wales.  Gwyneed and Powys (eastern and mid-Wales) were the two most powerful Welsh factions and their rivalry often shaped Welsh politics as a whole.  The Prince of Wales and the subordinate kings were to swear fealty to English king even if fealty to the Prince of Wales was relative.

The last native Welshman to hold the title Prince of Wales was Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, from the royal house of Gwynedd.  Llywelyn was killed in battle in 1282 during the English conquest by Edward I, King of England.  Upon his completed conquest the title was given to his son and heir, the future Edward II.  This tradition of naming the English and later British sovereign’s eldest son and heir continues to the modern day as a result.  This tradition went unchallenged throughout history except for a 15 year period at the start of the 15th century when a Welsh aristocrat in what started as a land dispute with his English neighbor would turn into a Welsh rebellion and one last attempt at a native run united Welsh nation, free and independent of England.

The name of that Welsh aristocrat and landholder was Owain Glyndwr (1359-1415?).  Glyndwr had royal ancestry being descended from the royal families of the former Welsh kingdoms of Powys and Deheubarth and was a member of the Anglo-Welsh landed gentry which lived on the Welsh Marches, the borderlands between England and Wales.  This class was descended from Welsh royalty and easily adapted to English rule in time, maintaining land in Wales and able to be at court in London.  Glyndwr studied law in London, served in King Richard II’s army in Scotland and elsewhere and married the daughter of a fellow Anglo-Welsh aristocrat, his wife’s name was Margaret Hanmer.  By most accounts Glyndwr was a loyal subject and not poised for rebellion from the start.  Things changed in the 1390′s when his neighbor the 3rd Baron Grey de Ruthyn annexed land which Owain stated was rightfully of his estate.  Owain petitioned the English Parliament to address the matter, this plea was ignored.  Furthermore, Ruthyn intentionally withheld a royal levy to appear to military service on the Scottish border, by the time Glyndwr found out it was too late and Ruthyn who despised Glyndwr for his claims to the land was able to demonstrate to the king that Glyndwr was AWOL during military service and therefore a traitor to the crown. Meanwhile, Richard II was deposed and Henry IV was placed on the English throne instead, Ruthyn was a personal friend of the new king and placed in his ear evidence “incriminating” Glyndwr not only for his absentee status but of supposed threats to Baron’s life and alleged support for Richard II, of which there was a strong base of support in Wales.  

The aforementioned events convinced the king of Glyndwr’s supposed treachery and in turn convinced Glyndwr that in order to get what he saw as rightfully his, matters would have to be taken into his own hands and that justice for a Welshman could only be found in Welsh courts under Welsh law and not under English law.  In late 1400, he assumed one of his ancestral royal titles and declared himself Prince of Powys, the ancient Welsh kingdom on the Anglo-Welsh border.  Glyndwr and a small band of followers launched an attack on Ruthyn’s lands and did damage to them.  Word of Glyndwr’s uprising quickly spread and went quickly from a man aggrieved of his land and honor to more broadly national cause for independence. The Welsh method of fighting was in line with the traditional Celtic method of hit and run tactics and the geography of Wales played a big role in this guerilla style of warfare.  The later romanticism of Glyndwr as a nationalist figure was in fact linked with his use of Wales’ topography and weather and the romantic reverence the Welsh held for the very soil on which they lived.  The country was a series of mountain ranges, forested valleys and rolling hills and with the infamously rainy weather, it was difficult for the heavily armored columns of English troops to navigate, whereas the more lightly armored Welsh were more mobile and familiar with the territory able to disappear into the valleys and mountaintops with less baggage and greater speed.

Glyndwr’s first months involved hit and run tactics against English manors in the countryside, burning and looting them for supplies and with each victory more Welsh joined in the cause and later taking castles from English garrisons.  Henry IV appointed his field commander in Wales, Henry Percy known as Hotspur.  Percy granted an amnesty to all rebels with the exception of Glyndwr and his cousins the Tudurs (ancestors to the Tudor dynasty) in a ploy to give up Glyndwr, it failed and so the English pressed on with trying to defeat rebels in pitched battle.  June 1401 saw the first major pitched battle, the Battle of Mynydd Hyddgen.  Little is known of the course of the battle other than the Welsh were outnumbered by the English and their Flemish mercenaries from Flanders (modern day Belgium).  The English force was defeated with heavy casualties and inspired Glyndwr’s popularity even more.  Welshmen left studies at Oxford University or from military service in Scotland or France and joined the now nationalist uprising.  Welsh people regardless of socio-economic status or region for the first time since 1282 were uniting under the banner of Glyndwr.  Henry IV himself executed Welsh gentry suspected of aiding or supporting the uprising and them marched an army into Wales to suppress it himself.  Other than burning the Strata Florida Abbey this campaign accomplished nothing, Henry IV was forced to turn back due to incessant rain and making roads and and mountain trails impassable.  Some more mystically inclined English and Welsh started to question whether or not Glyndwr controlled the weather, since it seemed to be an element on his side, drawing out the rebellion.

1402 saw the passing of the Penal Laws Against Wales in Parliament.  These laws forbade Welsh people from obtaining public office, denied the right to bear arms, forbade Welsh the right to own property in English towns (including English settler towns in Wales), forbade Welshmen from marrying Englishwomen and restricted the education Welsh children could receive.  Englishmen who married Welshwomen were also subject to said laws.  All these did was further anger the Welsh.  Finally, that same year Baron Grey de Ruthyn was captured and held hostage by Glyndwr and would remain his hostage until Henry IV could pay for his ransom.  Furthermore, the Welsh were crossing the border and burning English market towns in retaliation.  All of these events lead Henry IV to appoint a new field commander to bring about defeat to the rebels.  Henry IV and the royal treasury were continually short on funds due to ongoing larger warfare against France in the Hundred Years War.   Henry’s new commander was Sir Edmund Mortimer, a nobleman with a greater claim to the throne than Henry IV, a descendant of English and Welsh nobility himself.  Nevertheless, Mortimer did not press for the throne and was by all appearances loyal.  He had an interest in ending the rebellion which affected his business interests in the Welsh Marches.

In June 1402 Mortimer planned to march his force into mid-Wales, force Glyndwr into a pitched battle which surely the English with heavier armor and weapons and greater numbers were certain to win.  His column consisted of mostly English troops and in fact some Welsh contingents that were apparently not supportive of Glyndwr.  They marched slowly and Glyndwr marched out to meet this force. On paper, Henry IV & Mortimer should have been right with 2,000 well armed troops, including Welsh archers Glyndwr was likely beaten before the battle had begun.  They two armies would meet on June 22nd, 1402 at a hill called Bryn Glas near the town of Pilleth, just inside Wales near the English border.  Despite the English confidence they were in fact underestimating their foe.  Glyndwr, was an experienced soldier and this battle more than any other was to prove his tactical prowess.  He had a smaller force made up of the famous Welsh longbowmen, archery being the specialty of the Welsh.  In a culture that hunted and trained to fight in the hills and mountains of Wales, archery leant itself well to hit and run tactics in an era where gunpowder was limited and the norm was still Medieval style melees of heavily armed soldiers as was the English tradition.  The Welsh longbow was large, sturdy and carried great range and the Welsh were perhaps the most accurate archers in Europe.  To maximize their effect, Glyndwr placed his archers at the top of Bryn Glas hill, holding the high ground was textbook advantage in warfare.  Furthermore, Glyndwr used deception to aid in his plan, he split his force, making it appear to only consist of archers atop the hill whom he commanded.  This would entice the English into thinking a quick charge up the hill and melee would defeat the lightly armed archers or force them to scatter and demoralize their efforts.  What the English didn’t realize was the Welsh actually hid a force of more heavily armed men-at-arms/melee infantry armed with swords, spears and other clubbing weapons to the left of the Welsh battle line, hidden in a valley on the hillside, covered by thick forest.  

The battle began with the English spotting the smaller Welsh force atop the hill, the base of the hill had a small church and holy pilgrimage site fed by a spring said to have healing properties.  As expected the English marched up the hill slowly but steadily with their own Welsh archers providing cover support, Glyndwr’s archers did tremendous damage though with them safely out of range from the Welsh archers supporting the English.  At some point in the march up the hill, the Welsh archers in Mortimer’s army turned on the English and joined Glyndwr’s men, shooting down the English who stood by their side or in the back, whether this was predetermined at Glyndwr’s behest or done in a patriotic spur of the moment is unknown.  The shocked English panicked after being hit by archers from the front, within their own ranks and from the rear, this was followed by the hidden Welsh melee force emerging from the forest to the hit the English in the side and rear, surrounded on three sides, the English scurried down the hill, Glyndwr’s men from the hill top then charged down and joined in the fray, hacking the English to death.  Achieving total surprise through ambush, the English force was defeated and decimated, out of 2,000 men roughly 600 were killed, many were taken prisoner including Mortimer and the lucky few fled back to England with their lives.  Local Welshwomen were described by English sources as visiting the battlefield mutilating the dead English as payback for English campaigns and atrocities in years past.  The Welsh left the English bodies unburied and to rot in the sun for months, leaving a stench of death permeating the air over a widespread area for months afterward, an added insult to the English invader.

Bryn Glas clearly demonstrated Glyndwr’s tactical prowess and was probably jis finest battle from a tactical sense, it wasn’t his last by any means. Indeed, in the aftermath support for the Welsh rebellion furthered and the ranks of his army grew.  He now sought to take English castles, no easy task given a lack of proper siege equipment and artillery.  Furthermore, Henry IV was in no hurry to ransom out of fear that Mortimer with a greater claim to the throne might usurp him.  Indeed Mortimer was married to Glyndwr’s daughter Catrin and would betray the English crown by joining the Welsh rebels and fighting for their cause.  In the coming years, the rebellion grew to the point where England lost basic control of the whole of Wales, save for certain garrisoned castles and towns which were now the focus of Welsh sieges.   In this air of de-facto independence, Glyndwr would in 1403-1404 capture Harlech Castle on the Welsh coast and in the town of Machhynlleth be crowned Prince of Wales, being truly the last native Welshmen to have the title declared by the Welsh nobility.  He attempted to run a government though the war was still ongoing.  He declared the restoration of traditional pre-English Welsh law, establishment of two national universities, a separate Welsh Church and Parliament.  He also established foreign relations with the Irish, Scots and the French, hoping to get military aid from all and present a united Celtic front against England with French aid.  Furthermore, he conspired with Mortimer and his other former rival Hotspur Percy and his father, also Henry Percy to divide England and Wales between them.  Southern England would go to Mortimer, the North to the Percys and a greatly enlarged and independent Wales would go to Glyndwr.

 Here Glyndwr was at his zenith, unrecognized as a ruler by the English but in defiance he bested them in battle time and again and ambitiously was ruling his ancestral land in his name and even getting foreign recognition.  He had given hope to his people, Would it last?  Time would have to tell.  The figure of Glyndwr however endures, modern Welsh nationalism was born with him and he appealed to his people’s romantic and even mystical traditions of a singular Welsh figure, like King Arthur of legend who would drive the English from Britain and restore Welsh and indeed Celtic British independence...