#missing from this picture is his giant leaf hat

[nolassolace]

Another oc drop!

This is my lil homebrew tiefling dryad forest guardian.

He's a cocktail of wall•e and the avatar from atla.

He collects enchanted items and what not that he finds on his little patrols, he doesn't realize they're important so he'll pocket them and just toss them in a pile when he gets back to his shelter. He doesn't care about those trinkets as much as he cares about the literally garbage and rocks he finds which he puts on shelves and spends maybe a bit too long admiring them.

He does have speak with animals but he doesn't realize that the animals can understand him so he usually leaves or changes topic before the creature can respond.

He named himself twig and his leaves/ hair change color with the seasons

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

[trashyswitch]

Dark Interrogations (With a Light Spin)

Roman gets interrogated for the robbery of a hoodie, a hat and a deodorant. Remus, Janus and Virgil work together to make Roman confess to his crimes and admit as to their location...

This has the 'tickle interrogation' trope going for it so if you're uncomfortable with that, I am very sorry. There are also some swear words, so you have been warned.

This fanfic goes out to @smileheart110 on Tumblr. Link

This fanfic also goes out to @kennabelee because I wanna. XD

So Smileheart and Kenna, I hope you both (and others) enjoy!

A pair of high heels could be heard echoing through the room...a paper was shuffled with...and a pencil was heard being used despite the pitch black darkness.

“Roman ‘Princey’ Sanders…” Someone said.

The name called, hummed in confusion as he registered who the voice belonged to.

“...What in royalty are you doing, Library boy?” Roman asked.

“Oh...Right I forgot he could recognize our voice.” The person admitted.

“We have the same voice.” Someone else said.

“I’m gonna turn on the liiiight~” someone else said before switching on a lamp. Roman squinted at how surprisingly bright the lamp was. He expected one of those modern lights with the slow build up to brightness. You know, the eco-friendly ones? But nope. Not here. The voices of the ‘strangers’ didn’t always have a green thumb.

Roman looked up at the faces that were staring him down. One of them was holding a clipboard and a pencil. Another one was holding pieces of paper. And the last one was giving him the death glare with a small box in his hand.

“Welcome to the interrogation room. You can refer to me as Deceit...Or Janus, if you want to.” Janus started.

“You can refer to me as Virgil...I prefer it that way. No ‘emo’, no ‘panic at the everywhere’, and no ‘kitty cat’ either. I’ve heard you and your list.” Virgil warned.

“And I’m starving.” Remus admitted.

Virgil sighed. “Remus we know.” Virgil growled.

“Can we hurry this up?” Remus asked. “I haven’t had my hourly deodorant because SOMEONE STOLE IT!” Remus smacked his hand onto the desk to scare him.

But hilariously enough, Roman didn’t even flinch. “Awww, boo hoo.”

Remus looked at Janus. “Can I slap him with your heel?” Remus asked.

“NO.” Janus and Virgil both shot back.

“Dammit…” Remus muttered.

“Heel?!” Roman looked down and sure enough, Janus was wearing heels. “...Huh…”

“Eyes up here asshole.” Virgil ordered. “Where are our things?” Virgil asked.

“What things?” Roman asked, pretending to be naive.

Virgil slammed a paper onto the table, revealing the hoodie...But the picture used to represent it, looked really poor quality.

Roman smirked. “Did you get that from clipart or something?” Roman asked.

Janus sighed. “It was the best we could do. Please stay focused.” Janus told him.

“Where is it?!” Virgil asked.

“Chill out man! I didn’t mess with your hoodies!” Roman reacted.

“It’s ONE hoodie, and it’s MISSING. And you’re the only one dumb enough to take it.” Virgil spat.

“Emo.” Roman spat back with a smirk.

“Prick in my ass.” Virgil shot back.

“Oooooh! Okay, boogeyman~” Remus teased.

“Ew!” Virgil turned to Remus. “Don’t you dare use your serial killer references on me!” Virgil ordered.

“Sorry, sorry…I’m just hangry…” Remus admitted.

“Really? What a surprise…” Janus muttered.

Roman chuckled. “Someone should make a tv show based on all of you.” Roman reacted.

“Brooklyn 99 is the equivalent of that already.” Virgil reminded him.

Virgil placed another paper down. “What about this? Where is it?” Virgil asked.

Roman sighed and looked down. This time, it was a picture of deodorant...but it had a leaf on the label with the word ‘Peppermint’ on the front. Roman guffawed. “No, I haven’t seen Remus’s ‘peppermint’ deodorant!” Roman laughed.

Janus blinked and checked the label. “Oh...Oops.” Janus admitted. “Anyway-” Janus placed the paper down. “You know what we really mean in this situation. Where is it?” Janus asked.

“I don’t know. I thought you hid it with your magic?” Roman replied, looking at Remus.

Janus sighed. “And as you can tell, this:” Janus showed a colored picture of Roman holding his hat, with the bowler hat circled with a red marker. “Where is my hat?”

Roman giggled and changed his voice. “Look! I’m Woody! Howdy Howdy Howdy!” He imitated.

Janus snapped his fingers and pointed at him. “AHA! So you DID steal it!” Janus declared. “And that means you stole everything else TOO!” Janus yelled.

“Whaaaat...if I was simply making a reference?” Roman asked.

“You weren’t.” All three interrogators said at the exact same time.

Roman’s smirk dropped. They really could read through his tricks…

“Where’s. Our. Stuff. Roman?” Janus asked, leaning forward to glare at Roman closely.

“Up. Your. Scaled. Tushy.” Roman spat back.

“Alright get the tools.

“Tools?! Seriously?!” Roman reacted.

“Yes, of course! We need to scare our thief into confessing to their most evil crimes known to man!” Remus told him. “Stealing. Our. Precious. Props.” Remus told him.

Virgil pulled out a toothbrush and clicked a button to turn it on. The electric tooth brush started humming and vibrating, leaving Roman confused. “You’re...gonna brush my teeth to death?” Roman guessed.

Virgil giggled evilly. “Think again, Ro.” While Janus held Roman’s hands behind his back, Virgil walked closer to Roman, pulled up a stool and brought the humming toothbrush closer to Roman’s belly button.

The toothbrush had only lowered a couple inches from his belly, when Roman started whining and biting his lip. “Ohohoho noho, you’re worse than yzma.” Roman muttered with a slight wobbly smile growing onto his lips.

“So...Where...is our stuff Ro?” Virgil asked.

“I-I don’t know!” Roman replied.

It was then that Roman SCREAMED and wiggled around as the toothbrush landed right into his belly button.

“I hope you like tickles, Princey~” Virgil teased. “Cause this is gonna last a while if you don’t confess.” Virgil added.

“WAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE! NOT THEHEHEREHEHEHE!” Roman begged already.

“Woooow! Begging already?” Remus reacted. “I’m surprised! You can defeat a giant dragon witch, but you can’t handle a little tickwing to the bewwy button?” Remus teased.

Roman tugged on his arms to try and get out as his belly button was tormented with only a single little circular toothbrush. Man, being ticklish sucked right now!

Virgil stopped the electric toothbrush, but kept the toothbrush in his belly button. While this was happening, Janus leaned into Roman’s ear and clicked his tongue. “You gonna tell me where the stuff is?” Janus asked softly.

Roman felt tingles down his spine from both the hot air against his ear, and the super soft voice Janus was using.

Roman looked towards the ear Janus was whispering into. “Jeez, you could do an ASMR video or an ASMR channel if you wanted to! Holy crap!” Roman reacted.

“Answer the question.” Janus ordered with a more stern voice.

Roman looked at Virgil and Remus. “Guys...I seriously don’t know.” Roman told them.

“He’s lying. Vir-”

“Way ahead of ya, Jan.” Virgil pulled out a huge fan brush, turned on the electric tooth brush and used both items on Roman’s belly button region.

“NOOOOOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHA! VIHIHIRGIHIHIHIL STAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Roman pleaded.

Janus smirked as he leaned in, and blew cold air onto his neck. Roman squealed and curled his neck, throwing his head back in the process. “JAHAHAHAN!” Roman begged.

Then, Janus grabbed a feather and started tickling up and down Roman’s spine. “EEEEEK! WAHAHAHAIT NOHOHOHOHO! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!”

“Hey Remus...Do you wanna have some fun?” Virgil asked before turning off the toothbrush. Janus stopped the feather and looked at Remus with curious eyes.

Roman took the time to breath in and out as much as he could before the tickling started up again.

“Sure! And I know just the spot~” Remus grabbed a foot rest, placed it between Roman’s lower legs, and tied Roman’s legs to the bars on the sides of the foot rest.

Roman shrieked and tried to lift the foot rest, but a 50 pound dumbbell had been tied to the bottom of the foot rest as well! “NO! YOU’D BETTER NOT PULL THAT ANKLE-BREAKING MOVE FROM MISERY!” Roman shouted at him.

Virgil and Janus widened their eyes at each other while Remus wheezed. “Look around the room, you dumbass! There’s no sledgehammers anywhere here!” Remus reacted through his laughter.

“Except for in the closet…” Virgil muttered.

Remus hummed. “Wait what?”

“There actually is one in the closet…” Virgil muttered again.

Roman let out an ear-piercing SCREAM in horror. “OH FUCK! OH SHIT NO! REMUS YOU DO THAT, AND I’M DIVORCING YOU AS A FUCKING BROTHER-”

“Hey Janus, do you have an extra hand to cover up his mouth?” Remus asked casually...too casually.

Janus nodded and covered up his mouth. With Roman’s screams covered up enough to focus, Remus got up to do his thing. He walked to the closet, grabbed out the sledge hammer and made a large portal. Roman was still breathing heavily and freaking out. But Remus gave the sledgehammer a heave, and threw it into the portal. A loud “OW!” could be heard from within the portal before it was closed up.

“There! No more sledgehammer, and no more scared Roman.” Remus told him.

Roman’s scared face lessened dramatically as he registered the lack of a sledgehammer.

“You can uncover his mouth now.” Remus told Janus. Janus nodded and uncovered his mouth as Remus walked back over. “Now what I was ACTUALLY gonna do...” Remus sat down onto the foot rest, and scooted a bit closer. “Was this:”

Remus reached his hand out and started tickling the inside of Roman’s thigh. Roman widened his eyes, gasped in surprise, and leaned his head to the side as the craving to laugh filled his lungs. Roman tried to hold them back as best he could...But the moment the fingers reached the lower thigh, it was all over.

“EEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEK! NOHOHOHOHO! NONONO! NOTTHETHIGHS! HAHAHAHANDS AWAHAHAHAY!” Roman begged.

“Only if you confess to taking our stuff…” Remus reminded him as he moved his fingers to the other thigh.

“BAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OKAYOKAHAHAHAHAY! FIHIHIHINE!” Roman finally yelled.

Virgil smiled eagerly as Remus stopped his fingers. “Well?”

“Fihihihine...Yohohou wihihihin…*huff* I… *huff* I took ‘em…. *huff* *huff* Took ‘em all.” Roman finally admitted.

Remus smiled proudly and cheered. “YAAAAAY! I did it!” Remus declared.

“Totally didn’t see that coming…” Janus lied with a smirk.

“But wait:” Virgil looked at Roman. “Where did you put them?” Virgil asked.

Remus stopped cheering and looked at him. That was a good question! Where DID he put them?

Roman shook his head. “You said you’d let me go if I confessed. I confessed, so you need to let me go.” Roman told them.

“That’s why we have a tape record-” Virgil looked over at the tape recorder and noticed there was no tape in the tape recorder…

Virgil growled in pure frustration and anger the moment he heard crunching plastic on the other side of the table. Remus had moved himself to the other side of the table and…

..was eating the cassette tape.

“Whath? I goth hungryyy!” Remus reacted. “I’ff been hungry’fr hourth!” Remus added.

“And you couldn’t ASK FOR A BREAK?!” Virgil shouted.

Remus swallowed. “Mm mm. Go on. Keep going.” Remus told them, waving his hand to move them along.

Virgil sighed and looked at Roman. “Are there times you don’t associate with him?” Virgil asked.

Roman nodded. “All the time.” He replied. Rokman yelped as the circular spinning piece from the cassette tape smacked against his forehead. “OW!” Roman yelled.

“Thorry!” Remus reacted.

Virgil grabbed out another item from the tool box. “How about some oil?” Virgil asked.

OH HELL NAW!

Roman squeaked and wiggled around. “Uh uh! No way! Absolutely not! Get that stuff away from me!” Roman threatened.

Virgil giggled and poured some oil into his belly button.

“NOOOOOO!” Roman begged. Virgil grabbed a silicone oil brush from the tool kit, and started brushing and spreading the oil across his whole belly. Roman giggled and snorted as the brush moved everywhere across the regular skin, AND the shiny oiled skin. Whenever the brush would go across the oiled skin, Roman’s laughter would increase 10 fold, or even 20 fold! The oil made so much of a difference on Roman’s belly.

“And now for my new favorite part:” Virgil grabbed out two- TWO separate back scratchers. The metal back scratchers had paws on them rather than the usual fingers, which gave the back scratches metal claws rather than dull nails. Virgil handed one of them to Remus, and got ready to attack.

“NO...NOO PLEASE NO…” Roman pleaded.

“Where are they~” Virgil asked as he and Remus both brought the bear scratchers closer and closer to the belly.

“VIRGIL! REMUS! PLEASE! I DON’T KNOW! I! DON’T! KNOW! AAAAAAAAH!” Roman screamed and fell into loud cackles as the bear claws started scritching and scratching all over his poor, oiled belly.

“Where is it, oh ticklish prince of-”

“IHIHIHIN MYHYHY NIHIHIGHTSTAHAHAHAND! NIHIHIGHTSTAHAHAND!” Roman shouted.

Virgil widened his eyes. “Nightstand?!” Virgil reacted.

Remus got up, placed the bear claw scratcher down and sprinted to Roman’s bedroom. Roman took this moment to breath like his life depended on it. “Yohohou’re...lucky...I’m a side...otherwise...I will have...p-perished…” Roman said slowly.

Virgil laughed. “You wouldn’t have died, you drama queen.” Virgil fluffed his hair.

Janus smiled as he let go of Roman’s hands and wrote down the thief with the location of the items. “A criminal has pleaded guilty today. I say a job well done.” Janus told him. “And I mean it.” Janus clarified, telling him that he wasn’t lying.

Remus sprinted into the room with their stuff, and a mouth full of deodorant. “Hoodie!” Remus threw the hoodie to Virgil. “Hat!” Remus threw the hat frisbee style to Janus. “And MMMMMmmmmm!” Remus dug right into his deodorant like a mad man.

Virgil and Roman both bursted out laughing at Remus’s face, while Janus fixed his hat and hair. “There…” Then, Janus whipped off the high heels. “Finally! My feet can rest happy without these stupid heels!” Janus declared.

“FREE HEELS!” Remus declared, picking up the heels and sprinting out of the room.

Virgil shrieked and sprinted after him. “REMUS GIVE ME THOSE HEELS NOW, YOU ARE NOT HITTING PEOPLE WITH THEM!”

Roman bursted out laughing at their silliness and looked at Janus. “So...You gonna start that ASMR channel?” Roman asked.

Janus leaned into his ear with a smile. “Maybe~” He whispered.

Roman giggled nervously and covered his mouth. The teaser was already a huge indication that he was gonna DIE listening to Janus’s voice!

...A loud “OW! VIRGIL!” could be heard from all the way down the hall…

Those silly dark sides...

Also YES, 2 FANFICS TODAY! AREN'T YOU PROUD OF ME??? :D

[thiswasinevitableid]

if you're in the mood for requests i would honestly LOVE to read some stern/indrid outside of the ot4... au where stern is sent to find the mothman instead of bigfoot? or the fbi hires indrid as a consulting psychic on a case and stern is obsessed with finding out whether or not indrid is a Real psychic? or indrid approaches stern as someone with the societal authority to actually prevent a disaster? or whatever else you vibe with

Here you go!

Joseph picks his way over the rocks, camera clutched carefully under his rain jacket and water dripping off his “Bluff Creek” baseball hat. Voices bounce off the trees on all sides of him, and he rolls his eyes; how is he, at eighteen, the youngest cryptozoologist here but the only one who knows to keep his mouth shut so he doesn’t scare off the find of a lifetime.

Mothman is not, traditionally, a Midwestern cryptid, so he was skeptical when the forums he follows started having reports of sightings around Chicago, Milwaukee, and Madison. Two nights ago, user TinFoilCrown posted a photo that doesn’t sport the tells of a fake, and Joseph would stake his college fund on the winged figure in it being something other than a bird. 

It was when he arrived at the last known sighting point that his suspicions were further confirmed; in among the amatuer cryptozoologists were three or four people who looked like people dressed like they thought an amatuer cryptozoologist might dress. In other words, they looked like cops, or maybe even government agents. That means that the sightings are credible. 

He’s been out for well over an hour, it’s getting dark, and so far he’s scared up some deer, four dozen squirrels, and one perturbed owl. He scans the tree-tops, hoping for glowing eyes or giant wings. 

Which means he misses the edge of the embankment he’s walking along, and goes rolling down a slope to land in a muddy stream bed.

In the fading light, he sees tracks in the mud that are like nothing he’s ever seen; clawed, four toed, and huge. He follows them to a hollowed out section of roots, switching on his flashlight so as not to lose them, and then they stop. But just up the embankment are broken plants and chittering noises that sound almost like curses.

He hauls himself up into the leaf litter, and comes face to face with Mothman.

Mothman is not pleased with this turn of events. He hisses, poofing up his feathers and baring his teeth. 

“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I, I just want to take your picture.”

Another hiss, Mothman glaring at the camera.

“Or not. This is incredible, I can’t believe you’re real, you’re real, and you’re right here and you’re-” the flashlight beam falls on his right wing, where a patch of feathers is broken and bloody. 

“-you’re hurt.”

Voices in the trees, somewhere to his left. Instead of poofing up, Mothman shrinks in on himself. 

“Will...will something bad happen if you’re found?”

A frantic nod.

“And you can’t fly because of that wound?”

Mothman hesitates, then nods again. Joseph reaches into his small backpack, pulling out his first aid kit; they may not have let him into the Boy Scouts, but he still knows to be prepared. 

Carefully, he crawls across the ground to the wounded wing, watching the claws on the two sets of chitinous hands. He touches the wing and Mothman hisses, more softly, and chirps in pain. 

“I’m sorry, this might hurt.” He parts the dark, speckled wings, and rubs a disinfectant pad across the cut. The part of his brain that is freaking out over the fact he’s touching the Mothman gives way to the part that can focus on the task and on keeping the cryptid calm.

“There” he smooths down the bandage, “is that better?”

Mothman flexes his wing, winces, but then nods. The voices are getting closer, and Joseph turns, trying to see how close they are. There’s a whoosh of wind, and he whirls around to find the spot behind him empty. 

He sighs; the encounter of a lifetime, and he didn’t even get a feather or a photo. 

From above him, a lilting voice softly calls, “thank you.”

He blinks into the tree tops, hoping for a final glimpse, and murmurs, “holy shit. Mothman can talk?”

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

No one ever said FBI training was easy, but Joseph’s muscles protest every step as he climbs the stairs to his apartment. He’s only two months in, determined to become an agent for the department of Unexplained Phenomena, and that means vigorous bouts of physical training strewn between tactics for identifying serial killers. He knows for a fact there won’t be any discussion of cryptids or aliens until he’s in his department of choice. Even then, he’s not certain he won’t be seen as an oddball, either for his belief in the supernatural and unexplained or for the fact he’s more interested in studying them and learning how their societies interact with human ones, rather than seeing them as something with implications for defense or monetary gain. 

As he’s on the last flight of stairs, he realizes he’s out of muscle rub, and most of what he needs for dinner. He rounds the corner and, in front of his door, is a take out bag and a tin of tiger balm.

This isn’t the first time something like this has happened; a bag of cold supplies the day before he gets sick, a note on his car warning him not to take a certain route home. There’s no pattern, and there have been years between incidents. He has a hunch as to who his mysterious helper might be, but he’s never been able to prove it. 

Two nights later, he gets his chance. A fall storm batters the town, the windows of his apartment rattling with wind. Then rattling changes, becomes underscored with tapping. Standing on his dark, rainy balcony is a tall figure with glowing eyes. 

He slides the door open, and the Mothman steps inside. 

“Hello again. May I trouble you for a towel?”

“That’s-”

“-An odd way to start this interaction. Yes, but you tend to prefer the futures where I don’t drip all over your floor.”

It makes as much sense as anything else about this moment, and so he grabs a towel from the bathroom and hands it to the cryptid. 

“Thank you.” Water drops flick from his antenna as he dries himself.

“You’re welcome. Um, you must be the same mothman I met in the woods years ago.”

“That’s right.” 

“And the one who’s been leaving me helpful advice or items?”

“Right again. It seemed fair to repay a large favor with several small ones.” He extends his wing to test its dryness. 

“I see. Um, what’s your name? Or is it even something I can pronounce? I mean, I assume your name isn’t ‘mothman’ because that’s a name humans came up with.”

The cryptid smiles, showing pointed teeth in addition to his mandibles, “My name in my native tongue is” he breaks into two atonal chirps followed by a trill, “but you may call me Indrid.”

“It’s nice to meet you again, Indrid. I’m Joseph.”

“I know.” Indrid pads down the hall, dropping the towel on top of the laundry basket. 

“Right. Um. Is there a reason you’re here? I’m, I’m not complaining, and this is incredible, but are you in danger? Am I?”

“Not exactly. I foresaw the storm knocking me into the capitol building, badly injuring me and exposing me to unwanted eyes. Taking shelter with you seemed the best option.”

It’s flattering, to know someone so remarkable trusts him, and he blushes before an issue occurs to him. 

“Indrid, you’re welcome to stay but do you know what I’m training for?”

A nod, “A job with the UP. A future I saw flashes of that night we met.”

“That did sort of...solidify what I wanted to do. Knowing that you, and therefore maybe other entities like you, are out there, that there could be connection between your world, or worlds, and ours. There’s so much I want to know.”

“And there is a limit to what I can tell you; some secrets are not mine to share. However” Indrid settles at the little kitchen table, taking a small, leather pouch from his upper right wrist and setting it down, “I’m willing to answer some.”

“Even knowing what I plan to do for a living?”

He could swear Indrid raises an eyebrow, “Do you intend to reveal my existence to your superiors?”

“No”

A cocked head, Indrid extending his wings in a casual gesture that also emphasizes how much larger and stronger than Joseph he is, “Are you lying?”

“No. I think I can learn more being your friend, and maybe do more good overall if we’re allies rather than if my superiors get a hold of you.”

“Very well. In that case, we can trade: a question about me for a question about you.”

“You mean about humans?”

“No” antenna twitch in the direction of the oven, where his left-overs are reheating, “about you, Joseph Stern. I’ve been on earth for some time, humans are familiar to me. I…” for the first time, Indrid sounds shy, “I’d like to learn about a new friend.” 

Joseph smiles back, “I can do that. So my first question is: what would you like to drink?”

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

Indrid’s appearances remain infrequent as the years pass, but he makes good use of what he learned with his last question the night of the storm 

“What’s your phone number?”

As the human progresses in his training, Indrid calls him with tips and warnings; he never reveals his fellow Sylphs, but there are plenty of strange happenings or disasters that Joseph may be able to stop without accidentally starting and interplanetary war. 

More than that, he calls him to catch up. Joseph tells him stories about his work, or about the book he’s reading or the restaurants he’s checking out, and Indrid tells him about his travels. The longer they keep in touch, the less Joseph’s questions center on learning about Indrid and other Sylphs and the more they center on how Indrid is doing, if he’s safe, if he’s staying out of trouble (and camera lenses). 

It’s nice, having someone who is so invested in his well-being. And it is nice to have a friend to look after. 

As often happens, Indrid is in an area where phone reception is poor. So he wanders down, quarters in his pocket, and finds the nearest payphone. 

“This is Stern” laughter in the background, and a glimpse of the futures show the man in a bar, smiling and a little wine flushed. His fellow newly minted agents flit about in the background, but Indrid only has eyes for his human. 

“Hello, Special Agent. And congratulations.”

The voice drops to a hush, “Indrid?”

“Yes. Don’t worry, Joseph, nothing about this call will get me carted off to Area 51.”

A groan, “Not you too. That’s not what Area 51 is for.”

Indrid chuckles; tipsy Joseph is always a bit grumpy about paranormal misconceptions, “I know. I merely wanted to congratulate you on your promotion.”

“Thank you, Indrid.” 

“You’re welcome, my dear. Have a goodnight.”

“You too.”

It’s only when he hangs up that it occurs to him: he called Joseph ‘my friend,” right?

Right?

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

The motel in the middle of nowhere, Arizona, is stifling but at least he gets to have the evening in peace. Agent Rogers was pulled, as Hayes deems this mission a one-agent job. 

Which is why the knock at the door is confusing. Opening it explains nothing.

“Can I help you?” He eyes over the man in front of him, taking in his silver hair, his wide smile, and his large, red glasses. 

“Yes” the man lifts a white plastic bag, “you can have this birthday cake with me.”

Peering out into the parking lot, he sees a weathered Winnebago. There is one person he knows of who owns such a vehicle and also knows his birthday.

“Indrid?”

The man nods, stepping inside when Joseph waves him forward. 

“Happy birthday, my friend. I stopped off at the last diner to get us dinner. You have spent your last two birthdays alone because of your work; I was in the area, so it seemed silly not to remedy that.”

“Did you make a human disguise just to see me?”

“No. This is how I am able to go about the world without being detected. I keep the disguise in my glasses.” he taps the frames, “don’t look so glum, special agent. This disguise is not on your behalf, but this is.” He produces a green, spiral notebook. Joseph opens it, finds odd, angular characters, beneath which are music notes, followed by a word or sentence in English. 

“It’s Mothman to human dictionary!” He gives a little hop of joy, knowing Indrid will not begrudge him a full on geek out. 

“A highly abridged one. But this seems more effective than relying on me alone to teach you.”

Joseph snickers remembering the last time they met in person; they got drunk on spiked eggnog and Joseph insisted that he would get Indrid’s name right in his native tongue. He managed it, then demanded Indrid teach him more, the cryptid chirping hysterically at his attempts. At some point, they ended up slumped side by side, a wing around Joseph’s shoulders as he showed Indrid pictures of his sister and niece. 

“This is amazing, Indrid. Thank you. And, um, thank you for trusting me with your human face. I know that must be high risk, letting someone be able to connect this you with the other you.” He sits on the burnt-orange bedspread, Indrid plopping down beside him. 

A cold hand brushes his cheek, “I trust you, Joseph.”

He’s so close, like this, and in his human form Joseph is actually taller than him. He could hug him, protect him from a world that they both know isn’t the safest for him. They could go on dates with Indrid like this and no one would know the truth but them. 

Indrid’s hand is still on his cheek, but when his eyes glance towards it the other man notices, and lowers it. 

“Now” Indrid grins wide, clapping his hands together, “let’s have that cake.”

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

This is one of those moments where, if Mama ever finds out he did what he’s about to do, she will lock him into a room at the Lodge so he cannot do something so foolish again.

The government agents only just arrived back at their hotel, having picked up one of their ranks outside of Forks, WA. He was one of two, and the only survivor of a run-in with something not of this earth. Indrid happens to know it was a fellow Sylph, gone feral. Because he was vampiric in nature, the futures show all case reports concluding he was human gone mad and bloodthirsty. 

Joseph was luck; he’d been searching another section of the forest, and only arrived in the aftermath of the fight. But what horrible aftermath; Indrid sympathizes. 

The hotel is non-descript, and nobody pays any attention as he walks the polka dot carpet to room 402. Footsteps reach the other side of the door, and then it’s hurled open and he’s yanked into a darkened room. 

“Are you out of your mind!?” Joseph hisses, “there are five agents here, not counting me, all on high alert.”

“And I have looked like this” he indicates his disguised form, “for the last day, just to be safe. I wanted to comfort you, not add to your stress.”

His words register as Joseph cards his hands through his formerly slicked-back hair. 

“You...you’re worried about me? Indrid, I, I’m a special agent, I’ve seen intense things before. I’ll be fine.”

Indrid almost buys it. Impressive. No wonder Joseph is so successful in his work. 

“We’ve been friends for years. I can tell you’re agitated. Also, I looked at the timelines, and in the ones where I didn’t come you had nightmares and a panic attack all night.”

Joseph stops pacing, sits heavily down on the bed. 

“It was awful. All that blood. And, and both of them looked afraid, laying there dead. Like his attacker realized in their last moments what they’d done. I keep seeing it.”

“I’m sorry.” Indrid says softly and sadly, sitting beside him. He is; he is sorry for his friend, frightened by what he saw. He is sorry for the other agent, and for his fellow Sylph, yet two more beings he failed to save.

“I don’t want to think about it. I keep trying to read, or watch T.V, but it doesn’t work.”

Indrid checks the futures, then removes his glasses, the bed creaking at the surprise change in weight. 

“I have an idea. You have expressed, in prior meetings, a desire to more closely investigate this form.” He spreads his wings in welcome, “perhaps that will distract you.” 

Joseph hesitates, then carefully holds the bottom of one wing and cards his free hand along the feathers, studying them. For a time he says nothing, then, “does your coloration serve any purpose?”

“No more than human hair color does, at this pointOOOH careful, ah, I forgot to mention that inner patch is sensitive.”

“Sorry!” Joseph starts pulling away, and Indrid catches his hands, setting them on his chest.

“No harm done, little human.”

Joseph’s eyes widen at the nickname, then he schools his face and runs his fingers through the feathers of Indrid’s chest and up to the fluffier ruff. 

“I knew this was soft, but I never realized just how wonderful it is to touch. It’s like bird down and rabbit fur mixed together up here.” He scritches and Indrid chirps, then purrs. The human does it again. Indrid lightly wraps his arms around him and lays back against the pillows, Joseph staying on his chest and moving his attention to his arms.

“Is this as strong as chitin?”

“More or less” Indrid combs his hair with his claws.

He runs a finger up to Indrid’s elbow, “Can you feel much through it?”

Indrid shudders at the soft touch, “Some.”

Joseph nestles closer, petting his ruff, “Will you stay the night?”

“Absolutely.” 

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

Joseph reads over the text from last nights date, composes a polite brush off, and sets his phone in it’s charger. The guy was nice, but he’s been having a problem lately; every time he fantasies about being in bed with someone, he sees red eyes and longs for feathers under his fingers. When he makes out with a date on the couch, he’s thinking of cold hands and an otherworldly smile. 

He’s trying to keep those thoughts from his mind as he cleans the apartment; Indrid is coming over tonight, and he wants it to be fun but to not pressure his favorite cryptid with his silly crush. 

The trouble is, Indrid seems hell-bent on exacerbating is feelings. He compliments him, purrs at him, licks his fork clean with noises that count as porn in no fewer than five states. And then, as he’s trailing a hand over Joseph’s back while he does dishes, he murmurs, “goodness, you’re all knotted up. Come along, cleaning can wait.”

“Indrid, I’ve seen your trailer, I do not trust your cleanliness standards.”

“Defer to me just this once, little human, so I can massage that sore back.”

“Okay. But just this once. I saw what was living in that travel mug on your dashboard.” He laughs when Indrid elbows him, flicks on the bedroom light. 

“Please take your shirt off and lay on your stomach.”

He complies, and Indrid chirps a laugh.

“Oh lord, the tattoo, I forgot-”

“That you have my likeness on your shoulder? I must admit I’m flattered.” The cryptid teases, and Joseph gasps as four clawed hands set to work on his back. 

“You, you were integral to my life’s work, and I got this well before we became friends. I never thought it would be something you’d see.”

“It’s not a bad image, though the coloration isn’t quite right.”

“Indrid, I saw you in the dark for a total of three minutes.”

“Is that being a formative experience also the explanation for that round mothman pillow you have?”

“That was a birthday present!”

“Suuure it was.” The claws add pressure and Joseph whimpers. Lord, it feels like Indrid is everywhere, studiously mapping his skin with his hands. Then the cryptid freezes.

“And that toy under your dresser?”

“Oh, shit” he buries his face into the blanket, “I thought I put that away. Please forget you ever saw it.”

“It’s supposed to be mine, isn’t it.”

Joseph keeps quiet. Then he yelps as Indrid flips him onto his back. The mothman cocks his head. 

“Or is it supposed to be my tongue?” 

“Yes” He squeezes his eyes shut, knowing he has a full-body blush from the admission. 

A cold, thin pressure drags from his navel up his stomach, and he opens his eyes as it hits his chest; Indrid’s tongue, long and vibrating with a purr. 

“Can your toy do that?” Indrid flicks his tongue playfully over his nose. 

“No. But, but you don’t have to, Indrid, really, I know it’s probably weird to know I feel that way about youOOooo!” He arches off the bed as Indrid pulls back his palps (not mandibles, he learned that years ago) to suck a bruise onto his neck.

“On the contrary” two hands thread into his hair, the other two play along his sides and chest as Indrid stares down at him, “it’s immensely flattering. I’ve had people attracted to my human form. But this one” he flexes his wings, smirks when Joseph’s eyes lock onto them “not so much.”

“I mean, I like moth you and human you.”

“Even better.” He helps Joseph sit up enough to kiss his cheek, hands resting in the feathers of his shoulders. 

“That came out weird. What I mean is I...I like you, Indrid.”

A tender purr, Indrid leaning in to nuzzle his face and neck, “What a nice thing to hear in real time, rather than just see coming. Because I like you too, Joseph. So very much.”

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

Joseph opens the dossier, listening as Hayes lays out his instructions for the mission. He tries not to focus on the phone call he got early this morning, Indrid alerting him to his safe arrival in West Virginia. 

“I have some business in Huntington, then on to Kepler after that.”

As he scans the case notes, the destination catches his eye, and he keeps his smile hidden under his professional veneer as Hayes finishes his briefing.

“Understood, sir. I’ll set off for Kepler first thing tomorrow.”

[bunny-hoodlum]

Don't Leave Her(e)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434955/chapters/48480602

Sasuke follows an Otsutsuki into a world very much like our own.

It lead him farther than he’s ever gone.

A new dimension opened up to him.

He would like to get used to this by now, but no. His Space-Time dojutsu still left him winded.

He stepped out of the side of a building into a narrow alley, the abyssal portal closing behind him.

An assortment of unknown sounds bombarded his senses, so loud they seemed in competition.

Chugging, whirring, whooshing. Blaring horns not unlike the those on the freight ships back home. There were beeps that stuttered and others that dragged on.

Amongst the din was a constant shuffling like a herd in the distance. There too played music with instruments he’d never heard before.

It was rather… chirpy.

A noisy creak alerted him. A door a few feet to Sasuke’s left opened outwards and a man in a white apron and white hat stepped out, trash bag in hand.

But…

Sasuke hadn’t sensed him.

The man took no notice of Sasuke as he headed for the dumpster. Soon as he tossed the bag in and headed for the door, he halted to a stop.

The cook scrutinized him for a good minute.

“Ain’t never seen anyone wear a cape so casually, ‘cept the cosplayers on the bridge. You lost?”

Sasuke shook his head. “Just passing through.”

The cook craned his head back, looking down his nose. “Uh-huh. From where?”

Sasuke looked to his right, taking note that the alley lead to a brick wall. The building ahead appeared to be five storeys tall, its fire escape evidently unused.

Having no answer, Sasuke strode for the exit.

“Wait. Wait now, hold-” The cook grasped at Sasuke’s left arm, only to come up empty. “-up?” His grip slackened enough for Sasuke to slip through.

Leaving the alleyway had been like emerging from a tunnel of ignorance.

The world opened up to him, blinding at first, then overwhelming with the sheer activity of life all around him.

Thousands of people filled these streets. Phones to their heads and bags in their arms. Vehicles he’d never dreamed before sped along what seemed like a concrete river. Monitors which hung off of the faces of sky-reaching buildings flashed obnoxiously with gleaming faces and polished products.

A monstrous scream accompanied by an enormous shadow swept overhead, spiking his heart rate.

A giant bird?

No. It had a long, conical body with a tail like a shark and blades for wings. It was evidently metal, shining white as it hummed fiercely towards its descent.

An old anecdote from Naruto’s teen years came to mind, the only one where he rode upon a giant flying island turtle. But he doubted Naruto could help him understand this UFO any better, even if he was here.

Upon closer inspection, Sasuke noticed something: It had a bright red emblem on its tail.

A red leaf.

_____

The trail was gone.

Sasuke cursed his luck.

Perhaps they had merely passed through this realm.

But now Sasuke was stranded until his chakra replenished enough for another crossing. At this point, he was more inclined to return home than follow a cold trail.

Sasuke tugged at the collar of his cape, sweat slicking down his skin. The gesture brought more attention to himself, based on the passive stares he was receiving.

Just like back in his world, it was the height of summer.

He was missing the summer solstice festival. He couldn’t promise to go with them. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t like to.

Sakura said she’d send him pictures. She already showed him the yukata Sarada would be wearing. He wouldn’t be able to see the pictures until he got back, though.

The season was the same, but somehow it was much more stifling than he was used to.

Actually, it was a lot more of many things he was used to.

For starters, the roads back in his world are never this crowded. He feels like a minnow swimming against a current of impatient salmon, ready to be tossed out.

How is it that there are this many people existing in a single mile radius, and yet they have no perceivable life force?

He just couldn’t get his head around it.

_____

Sasuke needs to get his bearings.

He needs to prevent the Otsutsuki from feeding off any more God Trees.

What if there was one here?

It was worth to check.

Finding relief away from the crowds, Sasuke stepped into a wide side street. Square stone seats and benches lined the center, offset by a series of shrubs encased in stone boxes.

Shops lined either side, and overhead were diamond-shaped awnings that spanned the entire arcade.

As Sasuke strode past an eatery of sorts, cool mist struck his eyes and mouth.

He jumped back slightly, ignoring the looks from the customers seated in the patio dining area. From the awning of the restaurant was a system of black devices attached by a black wire. From the mouth of these devices spewed a constant production of mist that shrouded much of the patio from the summer heat.

Sasuke reminded himself to move on. And to stop getting surprised by the little things.

He was only bound to run into more.

____

This was the first time he’s seen Sarada since she was born.

She was two now.

Sakura held their toddler, her expression warm and a little exasperated as Sarada grabbed onto his forefinger.

Quite the grip.

Sarada began nomming on his finger.

Oh. That’s what she wanted it for.

“She’s been teething,” Sakura said. “I’ve tried frozen mochi, a homemade anesthetic gel, my parents stopped by with a kokeshi, all with limited success…”

Sasuke smiled at his adorable daughter. The hard bumps of her budding front teeth not unlike a dog’s play-bites, and he felt strangely proud of her. Proud of her health, her growth.

“I’m sorry to leave you with everything, Sakura.”

Deep down, he’d love to trade places with his wife, to experience the same joys and stresses as her.

She waved him off. “We’ve already discussed this. You’re fighting for peace of mind. Someday Sarada-chan will understand.”

Sasuke’s jaw shifted.

Because on his worst days, he hardly understood himself at all.

_____

It’s when Sasuke finally takes a moment to purchase food at a nearby grill stand that he realizes his currency is unrecognizable.

Figures.

He’s concerned he’ll have to make multiple trips back to this world. In which case, he better make the most of his time gathering intelligence.

His phone doesn’t work.

Of course. Why would it?

He has access to Konoha’s main databank; what Shiho and her ever expanding department of coders call 'the Intranet’. But here, nothing.

He thinks his technology may not be up to date, let alone remotely compatible. Another thing to look into, for sure.

Sasuke folds the phone closed and rests his mouth against the flat of his fingers.

His hard stare into the distance gains focus as he registers something. There on the television screen appears to be a familiar face.

But that had to be a mistake.

Sasuke got up from the stone bench and approached the store window displaying various TVs.

One had a drama, not unlike the new form of scripted entertainment cropping up in his world. Another showed a man at a desk and two other men were seated off to the side. There was a martial arts tourney held in an octogonal ring there, horses racing along a dirt oblong on this screen, and six people in brightly colored jumpsuits struggling up a flight of white stairs over on this screen. Why they kept falling down and getting back up, he didn’t understand.

But he imagined Naruto wanting to give it a try.

Ignoring these distractions, the one thing that really pulled at his gaze was the news coverage.

PM Sarutobi Extends Visit to Kumo no Kuni

That was him.

That was really him.

Liver spots and all.

Sarutobi Hiruzen.

He looked so different out of the robes and hat. The dark gray suit was tailored to fit, emphasizing his diminutive stature. He wasn’t that old yet, but he was getting there, and he would likely only continue to shrink.

Just when Sasuke’s imperfect reasoning had begun to toy with the possibility of reincarnation, Hiruzen was shown seated at a conference desk beside none other than A himself.

And the old hard-ass still had both arms.

Sasuke rubbed at forehead, shutting his eyes as he tried to process everything.

His forehead rubbing soon upgraded to firmly knocking against his skull.

No. He didn’t understand it all.

_____

He pressed his mouth to his wife’s small, round shoulder, earning a low, drawn-out moan.

A sharp wail disrupted this evening of stolen kisses and Sakura pulled away, suppressing her groan.

“Let me soothe her. It may be nightmares again.” She said, getting up.

Again, huh? Sasuke wondered what a three year old had to be afraid of.

His hand was on her shoulder in no time. He dipped in for a quick peck. “Get yourself ready for me. I’ll be back in a minute.”

His wife’s blush stirred the want more as she nodded obediently and reclined into bed.

Slipping out into the hallway, he made it to Sarada’s room.

She was standing and clutching at the rails of her crib. Her hiccups were frequent, almost violent and her sobs frantic.

She spotted him in the doorway, and it was like an instant switch. “Papa.” She chirped matter-of-factly.

He always wondered if it had been Sakura’s idea to teach her 'papa’ over anything else.

His father had always been 'Chichi-ue’ to him.

But Sasuke had demurred from taking the mantle of clan head. He had far too much to do. He had been the final Uchiha, the last true heir and he ran their name into the ground with his so-called 'wilding’ as Kakashi-sensei liked to tease. He needed to clean the slate. He needed to earn back his place.

Sasuke lifted Sarada up, inspecting her face for any trace of fear or sadness.

“Papa.” She reached for him, arms waving. She was perfectly fine now. He did say he would only need a minute.

As soon as Sasuke put her down, the pained screams started again. And in a panic, he scooped her up again.

Her big black eyes stared at him expectantly.

What was he supposed to do during this part?

_____

There was a curious amount of disquiet in a world so peaceful that Sasuke had to wonder what prevented it from falling apart at all.

Jashinist Slain after Tokonoha Commissioner General Indicates Group’s hand in The Nines Incident

“… There’s a lot of misconceptions going around about what we worship and the nature of our rituals. But it’s all purely symbolic. We invite people to see for their own eyes that we are not dangerous…”

Sasuke heavily doubted there were any misconceptions.

Former PM Senju Hashirama’s Legacy Brought Into Question

Sasuke wasn’t ready to go down that rabbit hole again.

Uzushio-Hi no Kuni Relations Worsen as the Fifth Anniversary of the Nines Incident Draws Near

“… They refuse to release the full list of the victims names. My daughter was nine months pregnant at the time. I just want to take her home. I just want to bury my daughter…”

Sasuke had the vaguest dread as to what this 'Nines Incident’ meant in this world.

But if there was no monster here like Kurama, then to what scale had been this destruction?

Momochi Zabuza Evades Arrest for Botched Attempt Against LDP’s Oppositional Leader

Apparently some things never change.

Whatever the current climate of unrest seemed to be, he sense no threat of war.

Perhaps this world was too big to suffer as a whole.

Some people may get scratched off, but that’s all it is: A scratch.

Had the massacre never happened and his grandparents passed away of old age, he likely wouldn’t have been able to muster a misty eye. He barely knew them enough at the time to be fond of them.

Sasuke’s world is vast, but the lines between territory and loyalties are clear.

A single domino can topple an entire nation.

Was a single domino enough for this world to fall too?

_____

Night had fallen and the streets had emptied.

The alleys and roadsides took up bedraggled, bearded men resting on their cardboard beds.

But then Sasuke came upon a man in a nice suit, face down in the street. He wasn’t injured, Sasuke soon found. Just black-out drunk.

Sasuke shifted him upright and leaned him against a nearby wooden bench. Sasuke paused to observe his breathing.

It was going to take some getting used to, not being able to sense life in the way that was so innate to him.

A place like this would be absolute hell for Karin.

Sasuke had noticed the CCTVs for some time.

It was better he didn’t perform any strange acrobatics for the time being.

_____

Sasuke toyed with the idea of creating an assumed identity.

He didn’t know how long it would take him to be sure this world wasn’t cultivating a God Tree. He wouldn’t be able to stay anonymous for long.

He would need to adapt to this world’s level of technology, as well. Seeing the wires pulled away from the sides of buildings, suspended instead upon metal spires that looked tadpole tails, he knew there was a difference in the logic of their engineering. If it wasn’t simply ahead of theirs, it was surely done out of necessity and perhaps tradition.

Back home, the wires were visible, running alongside buildings, homes and roofs like arteries.

Shinobi, who often travelled above the ground, had no fear of snagging their ankles or neck. The design, therefore, was their tradition, their necessity.

One final thing he became aware of the sheer amount of individual businesses packed in a single mile radius. Cafes, clothing stores, electronics, furniture, groceries, these things seemed to have fused at the hip, forcing new businesses to build atop them like bricks.

Perhaps commerce was the blood of society in this world.

Perhaps this was what the so-called End of History was to look like.

When all wars are settled, there is nothing else to do but play with money.

_____

An unassuming stone staircase caught his attention, for it lead three flights down into a darkened, verdant park.

The walking path wove like a snake between the trees.

Black metal trash cans stood along the trail here and there. Green dispensers carried rolls of black bags. They sported a sign, showing a stick figure stooping over behind a dog.

Huh. He wondered what that Inuzuka boy would think of this.

Sasuke took a seat on a lone wooden bench. He craned his head back to rest.

But when he closed his eyes, he became unsettled.

Even if he relied on his ears, or that subconscious instinct that told him when he was being watched (an ability he decided that had to be vestigial from being an indirect descendant of Kaguya), his senses still sought out the flickering warmth of chakra.

Closing his eyes felt like he was sinking into a place he could never wake up from.

_____

Something scurried in the distance. Through the bushes. Too big to be a squirrel or stray mutt.

Sasuke lurched upright and there peeking out from behind a tree was a little girl.

She had straight, dark hair in a cropped princess cut style. Her skin was white, her eyes blue, and she couldn’t be older than four or five.

Unsure what to do, Sasuke waved at her.

And she waved back.

Sasuke reached into his vest pocket, digging out four pieces of hard candy in paper wrappers.

Sarada snuck them in when he wasn’t looking.

Black tea flavor. Sakura said they were her favorite.

Sasuke leaned forward, elbow propped on his knee and he held the candy out towards.

In the back of his mind, this gesture felt a little shady to him. If some strange man happened to offer his daughter her favorite candy, he would be inclined to reveal the hilt of his sword.

The little girl stepped out from behind the tree.

She took one little step. Hesitated. Then another little step. She repeated this pattern, when halfway her eyes brightened and she ran up to him.

She reached for the candy, her hand hovering short of grabbing one while her big eyes implored him for his approval.

“They’re for you, from my daughter. She told me sweets should be shared amongst friends.” A total fabrication, but how else was she going to trust him?

The little girl plucked a single candy from his palm and fished it out of its paper wrapper, then popped it in her mouth.

She then grabbed another one and held it out towards him.

Oh yeah. He did say sweets should be shared amongst friends.

Pocketing the other two pieces, he accepted the candy from her. He gazed at it reluctantly. He’s had these in his pocket for over a week. A gift from Sarada, perhaps even a bribe in her mind to get him to stay. For him, they were precious keepsakes.

Well, it wasn’t like he was never going to see her again.

Sasuke worked the candy from its wrapper with his thumb, popped it into his mouth and let the flavor meld onto his saliva. It was pleasant and smooth, not too sweet at all. An unassuming treat.

The little girl’s face began to scrunch and droop, as if she were working on a cough drop instead.

“Don’t like it?”

She shrugged. Through a mouthful of darkened saliva, she said. “Not sweet enough.”

“Hn. What’s your name?” Sasuke began to cautiously eye the toddler. Her lavender pants were soaked with muddied water from the knees down. Her white shoes were caked in mud as well. Her elbows were scuffed, giving him the impression that she must have fallen. Her skin and her hair were otherwise clean, showing that she was not like those downtrodden men from earlier.

It must be that she was only gone recently enough that her family wasn’t looking for her yet. But that would change soon if he didn’t act.

She looked at him funny for asking. “Hinata.”

In this world full of coincidences, time seemed to slow to a halt.

And in the brief seconds when her eyes would close, a round, timid face from his childhood replaced hers with perfect sameness.

“How old are you?”

She thrusted four fingers towards him.

He hoped this wasn’t somehow her.

“Is your birthday soon?”

She shook her head. “Too hot. Us'lly snow comes out to celebrate with me.”

No. This was just a coincidence. She couldn’t possibly be who he thought she was.

She scooted towards him, hands clutching the edges of his cape. He stiffened, hoping she wouldn’t see the scabbard angled against his back.

“Aniki, you taking me back to daddy now?”

Sasuke clasped his hand over hers and nodded.

_____

Sasuke stood in the hallway, holding Sarada against him as Sakura slipped her shoes on in the genkan.

“I’m not going to be gone long, but you sure you’re going to be okay with her?”

“She’s sleeping.” What was there to worry about?

Sakura brushed her bangs aside, looking torn between leaving him or staying.

They were short on groceries. Sakura’s director duties at the children’s clinic had cut into the little free time she had, and his appearance today had been spontaneous to say the least.

“Okay.” She finally said. “I’m leaving now.”

“Take care.”

This was all he could do really.

Sakura knew what they needed, what they usually stocked up on when he wasn’t around. She most likely felt compelled to pick up extra things now that he was here. And with his self-imposed penance, he wasn’t going to be much help carrying all of that back from the marketplace had he gone instead.

This was all that he could do.

_____

Hinata’s resting against him just like Sarada was that day. She seems to have taken to him quite easily.

It’s calming, going for a walk like this. He thinks of doing with this Sarada some day, before she got too big of course, with Sakura’s hand curled around his bicep.

Their village was beautiful, and there’s so much to try and explore. He keeps hearing about it. It’s Naruto’s pride and joy to share how it was evolving, expanding. Rokudaime must be proud, too. He tries to say he’s just a holdover Hokage until Naruto is ready, but no one was going to let Kakashi talk himself down like that.

Every day something new sprouted up to the point that an official newsletter had begun to circulate through the village. Naruto told him the first time he, Hinata and Boruto had waited in the longest line ever for the new bakery that had debuted right across Dango-ya.

Sasuke understood right away: Competition is good for growth.

The city lights greeted them as he drew closer to the shops he had ventured passed during his first hours. Their windows were darkened however, and he believed it was well past business hours.

But in a place this developed, he was banking on one thing: Finding a convenience store.

Konoha was beginning to have shops like these.

Naruto wrote him once, (back at a time when neither of them were quite accustomed to their phones just yet), and he had gone on and on about the selection of instant ramen he had discovered on their shelves.

He sounded just like his twelve-year-old self. As excitable and single-minded as ever.

Hinata started to squirm against his shoulder. She was getting antsy.

“You hungry?” He asked.

“Mmhm.”

She hadn’t been able to tell him much about her home or where it was, but taking her sullied state into account, he felt he could narrow it down. This place was like a paved island. His search would have to begin outside of its limits.

“How come you weren’t scared of me?”

She shrugs. “I have a lotta big brothers. You look like them.”

Interesting. Sasuke tried to picture Hiashi with a whole brood of boys. In that picture, Neji stormed in, fending off anyone who would dare replace him as her most beloved brother.

Sasuke had heard from Naruto how the reformed branch member had become so fiercely protective of his younger cousin. To think the key to Neji’s freedom from hate had been one withheld letter penned to him by his father. Why it had been revealed so late, Sasuke failed to understand. But for all the pain Sasuke had caused, he kind of envied Neji for being able to make it back home so easily.

“So what do you mean I look like them?”

Bright white lights beamed out of a squat building, their white and blue sign shining just as brightly.

“They wear dark clothes, their hair is dark, the faces they make are dark.”

“They scowl at you?”

They crossed the parking out and entered inside. A synthetic bell tone welcomed them.

“Not at me. I seen them look mean at someone else’s brothers.”

“Hn.”

They began to peruse the shelves. Sasuke considered finding something that Sarada would enjoy.

Royal Milk Tea Biscuits? Matcha Chews?

Hinata pointed at a row of packaged cinnamon rolls, and Sasuke frowned.

He picked it up in a hurry and the moment the cashier stepped outside the back door, Sasuke slipped out the front.

Just a pile of coincidences, he reminded himself.

_____

There was a booth up ahead, lonely and a little out of place.

A man in uniform idled inside on a chair, his legs pointed out towards the street. His clothes were shades of blue, dark pants and dark vest, pale dress shirt and a dark, brimmed hat with a golden emblem on the center.

Hinata stirred and pointed towards the man. “He knows my daddy!”

Sasuke slowed, wary of catching the man’s suspicion. “Does he?”

Hinata nodded vigorously. “They’re in my house all the time.”

What the hell does that mean?

The closer Sasuke neared, the more his gut told him what kind of person this was: Law Enforcement.

“Aniki, he can help us.”

“Yeah, I know…”

It would be the quickest, most sane thing to do. But it wasn’t in the cards right now.

They’d want ID, a home address…

“Sorry Hinata-chan, but we can’t trust him.”

She peered up at him for a beat before settling back down. “Okay. My daddy says that, too.”

Sasuke kept his head down, forcing himself to make it past detection.

Naruto had come to him one day on behalf of Rokudaime. They wanted to reinvigorate the police force, build it up to its former glory. Sandaime had long relied on ANBU to keep the order, and Godaime after him, but that was no longer viable.

Because the police force was no longer being placed upon a single clan, they were working on the interviewing process, as well as reviewing the previous standard of regulations. A copy of the citizen registry, alongside an old compilation of past arrest records found in his father’s preserved study had given him significant insight for updating those regulations.

The last thing Sasuke needed was to get detained. Kamui wasn’t even an option, not unless the situation were truly dire.

“Where’s your daughter?” Hinata asked out of the blue.

“She’s at home.”

“And what are you doing here?”

“I’m working.”

“Oh.”

_____

In his attempts to have more presence in Sarada’s life, this too has been occurring just as frequently.

The first time he heads for the genkan, his sandals are missing.

He finds them in the storage room.

The next time they’re missing, Sakura screeches.

They’re in the toilet.

The next time they’re in the trash, soaked in melon juice and forcibly hidden beneath discarded egg shells, bok choy stalks, and styrofoam meat trays.

Sakura gets mad.

He doesn’t.

Sarada stops hiding his shoes.

So when he slips them on, a tiny crawling sensation lances up his spine. He stares down at the mess. He’s just pushed pudding everywhere, and it’s oozing between his bare toes.

When Sakura holds up Sarada towards him with an expectant glare, he pokes his wife’s forehead then Sarada’s, and takes his leave.

He didn’t know that was the wrong thing to do until the most recent incident.

His shoes are missing again.

They find Sarada in the backyard. She’s shoving large rocks down the high-tops of his right sandal. She’s thought this through. They’re too large to slide out of the cutouts on their own.

“SARADA!” Sakura scolds, marching towards their daughter.

Sarada whirls around on them in a panic. She grabs the left sandal, which has not been stuffed with rocks, and chucks it across the backyard with a bitter shout.

Sasuke grasps his wife’s wrist before she reaches their daughter, and it was the wrong thing to do.

“Are you going to do something this time?!” She wrenches her wrist free. His lack of response, his obvious lack of awareness earns his wife’s full ire. “Stop trying to be her friend. You are her father.”

“She’s little.”

“She’s being a brat. And you know why this keeps happening?!” Sakura grips his hand and hard. “Every time you’re here, you undermine me. She thinks its okay because you act the same no matter what she does. Is that fair? Is it fair that I have to be the bad guy all the time?”

His chest constricts. Any rebuttals he had were void as soon as he felt them on his tongue.

It startled him, the feeling that layers of happy illusions were peeling down all around him.

Sakura’s changed. Motherhood’s changed her. Of course it would. Of course she would know these things that he doesn’t know anything about. Of course.

But they became a mother and father at the same time. He thought… He thought that was it. Like he’d just been moved into a new squad with a higher promotion.

“I’m sorry-”

“Sasuke, I know. You’re always sorry. I know.”

Yeah. He was sorry his wife was still married to a teenager. He was sorry that he’s been disrupting the space she’s created for their daughter to grow in. Sorry he has nothing to contribute.

“Sasuke.” She urged. But she wasn’t giving up on him. She was trying to put him on the right path.

But he was still scared.

He didn’t want to be the bad guy, either.

“What should I do?”

Her grip softened. “Just be firm with her. She knows better than to disrespect someone else’ property.”

“Does she?”

“Yes. She plays with Choji’s girl. I’ve talked with you about this.”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t remember this at all.

'Firm’ she says. Right, his mother had been firm with him before. His father, instead, withheld praised Sasuke knew he deserved. They loved him, he knows. He isn’t mad. But when he recalls how he felt back then, he had doubts towards them. He felt like he wasn’t good enough for his father, that he was a needy nuisance towards his brother, that mom didn’t need to rely on him nearly as much as she did on Itachi’s successes.

In a single instance, he could cause his daughter as much pain as those moments had for him.

And he would carry that knowledge with him forever.

Sasuke stepped off the engawa and approached his little girl. He crouched down before her, holding her gaze like he was staring down ten thousand poison-tipped senbon.

“Sarada-chan, no matter what you do, you can’t stop me from leaving.” Straight facts. A three-foot tall four year couldn’t stop a shinobi of his caliber.

But that wasn’t what Sarada wanted to hear.

And that’s not how she heard it at all.

Her eyes widened, trembling. They were glassy with tears.

He moved forward to course correct, to hug her, to love her, but she stomped off for the discarded sandal.

Picking it up, she gives a running start and throws it even farther away, right into Sakura’s rose bushes.

Sarada ran off.

“SARADA! Sasuke, hold on, I’ll get her! Sarada!” Sakura sprinted off their property. It didn’t take long for her to scoop up their screaming toddler.

He watched his wife in a daze as she scolded Sarada so expertly, and in that moment he thinks that his and Naruto’s childhood roles have truly reversed.

No longer was Sasuke a natural at whatever he set out to do.

He was the useless one.

_____

“Are we going to walk there?”

Sasuke’s brows furrowed. “Is it too far?” Walking is the only way I get around. He wasn’t sure how Kamui would work on a powerless human, either.

“Yuh-huh. I was home with mommy. Then I was on a plane with mommy. Now I’m here… without mommy.”

Sasuke was about to ask what was a plane, until the last part.

“I thought we were looking for your dad.”

“Yes. Look only for dad.”

“But what about your mom? You were with her last, you shouldn’t run away.” He recalled the last time he saw Sarada bolting out the backyard. He wondered if he was causing not just resentment towards him, but towards Sakura as well. She didn’t deserve what was happening to her. He really hoped Sarada would understand some day.

A little fist came down on his shoulder and she began to kick. “She did it first! I want my daddy!” She flopped face-first against his shoulder, her frustration palpable.

“Okay, okay.” Sasuke awkwardly bounced her in his arm, something he happened to recall Sakura doing back when Sarada was much smaller.

“You don’t know where we are.” Hinata said.

“No.”

“I don’t know where we are.” She said.

“It’s okay. We’ll figure this out.”

“Nobody knows where we are.”

Sasuke bit down his tongue.

If he wasn’t careful, that part may not be true for very long.

[leonaesque]

Poetic Injustice: On Ateneo and Negotiating Complicity

To be a successful comprador is an art. Tony Tan Caktiong knows this. Given the scale at which multinational corporations influence Philippine culture, at this point, who are we to refute it? And how? Profit-seeking forces itself on us; to be recognized. Every mass-produced item of clothing featuring the pattern of an ever-smiling billion-dollar bee is indication enough: Art is execution. In fact, being the recipient of foreign capital requires deliberate hands able to maintain thousands upon thousands of labor-only contractual workers, despite their having worked at the same establishment for years on end. These workers produce what no middleman can. Yet a company will still view being bought-out by an industry giant as the ideal exit strategy. Each moving part makes for one striking image of monopoly– worthy, one might insist, of being featured in a gallery.

Jollibee Foods Corporations (JFC) acquires stakes or ownership of restaurant chains in order to expand, as it has done over the course of many years with local and foreign brands. Their current roster includes Greenwich, Chowking, Red Ribbon, Mang Inasal, Burger King PH, The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, and Panda Express PH. The company also runs businesses internationally, such as Smashburgers in the United States, and Yonghe Dawang or Yonghe King in China.[1] Of course, the face of this massive undertaking remains the once tiny Magnolia-inspired ice cream store, Jollibee, now every business-oriented insect’s wet dream.

Ernesto Tanmiantong, brother and successor of Tony Tan Caktiong as Chief Executive Officer (CEO) of Jollibee Foods Corporation, is the latest former Chairperson of the Ateneo de Manila University Board of Trustees.[2] One can even find his name, along with his wife’s, gracing a first-floor exhibit hall of the Ateneo Art Gallery, found inside the university’s so-called creative hub, the Arete. In the months before the start of the first semester of S.Y. 2018-2019, Tanmiantong’s adorable, marketing-committee-approved buddy in white gloves and a chef’s hat took a trip to the then-newly inaugurated art gallery for a photo-op. The mascot then posed with several installments and paintings, a couple of which depicted farmers and workers.

According to the Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE), JFC is one of the most notorious businesses with regards to the perpetuation of the practice of contractualization.[3] Contractual workers are, according to law, not employed by– and, therefore, not the responsibility of– the company they provide labor to. Because of this, these workers do not receive benefits or compensation, are often subject to abusive working conditions, and are vulnerable to the shameless practice of mass termination. No doubt, the Public Relations stunt with the Ateneo Art Gallery was ill-timed; right at the height of protests against the corporation, in the midst of its non-compliance with the DOLE’s order to regularize upwards of 6,000 of its workers– there was Jollibee: tone-deaf and taking pictures to post on his Facebook profile, The Atenean Way.  

Ironically, as the statement by Ateneo’s School of Humanities Sanggunian (which condemned the incident) pointed out, perhaps even the person inside that oversized blinking head of the Jollibee mascot was a contractual worker, posing in a space that he might never have been able to enter without the cartoon-bee-mask of his exploitation.[4] Surely, it does not matter whether or not the institutional faux pas was an intentional case of art-washing. At least, it should not. Is there such a thing as art for art for art’s sake?

---

There is this poem entitled “The Doomed” written by Mikael De Lara Co. A friend of mine recommended it to me once after a workshop session because my piece, he said, reminded him of it. I do not think my friend meant to insult me. Unless he did.

“The Doomed” is a poem about writing a poem, wherein the poet-persona is aware that, while he is writing poems about lilies, there is violence somewhere, which he is both physically and socially detached from. This violence is manifest into the shooting of Liberal Party supporter and candidate, Hamira Agcong, in 2010, as well as the infamous Ampatuan Massacre that occurred in 2009, where 58 people were kidnapped and killed.  

Where do poems fall under in the realm of social praxis (if at all)? “The Doomed” ends with the lines “I want to find beauty in suffering. / I want to fail.” Yet, the poem’s aestheticization of the murders via tone and imagery is blatant. The declarative rejection of an ideal like beauty or portraying beauty betrays the poet’s pretentiousness in what can only be his underlying conservativity. There is no attempt to avoid it. With lines like “You sit at your desk / to write a poem about lilies and a clip of 9mm’s / is emptied into the chest of a mother…” and “… a backhoe in Ampatuan crushes the spines of 57 / – I am trying to find another word for bodies”, it sounds as though these killings are more poetic material than actual, politically motivated deaths. Tell me, is the reader to blame for reading what is on the page? Mikael De Lara Co fails in failing, making the poem and its project a useless endeavor.

Despite the pointedly crafted grief into the persona’s voice, “The Doomed” does nothing to grieve the circumstances which brings about its dramatic situation. Why are people “doomed”, if not for the bureaucrat capitalists that viciously plot to stay in power? Could the poet not have addressed that, instead of weeping about his writing process? I do not believe that the poem would have failed that, at least, because all language inevitably fails in the face of social reality. That would be lazy, if it were not bullshit.

But I suppose that is why “The Doomed” fails, most of all: The poet believes it is fine to write speeches for a leader who allowed farmers and indigenous people to be harassed, as long as they could be tagged as members of the New People’s Army, the armed faction of the Communist Party of the Philippines. A text speaks, though the words are not on the page. So, the poet dooms.

Mikael De Lara Co has won many awards for his writing and translations, including the prestige-inducing Don Carlos Palanca Award for Literature. He graduated BS Environmental Science from Ateneo de Manila University, where he was once an editor of Heights, the school’s official literary publication. He has been published in many other magazines, literary journals, and the like, where his author’s notes proudly indicate all these accomplishments and more, such as having, himself, worked for the Liberal Party and once been a member of the former President Benigno Aquino III’s staff under the Presidential Communications Operations Office. Ergo, ghostwriter, alongside a number of other Ateneans who were also once part of Heights.

“Noynoy Aquino was a fascist” is a phrase that does not get said often enough. The Aquino administration, with its neoliberal policies the color of dehydrated piss, is credited with the starving thousands of farmers to death. Unsurprising, I suppose, for a family of landlords to inherit a disdain for the very hands that feed them. Corazon Cojuanco Aquino passed the Comprehensive Agrarian Reform Program (CARP) during her regime, and her son amended it with an extension and reforms (CARPer), making it even easier for land owners not to have to redistribute their lands at all.

For all its “Kayo ang boss ko” and “Daang Matuwid” pandering, the Aquino administration did not skimp on its counterinsurgency program, Oplan Bayanihan, which heavily drew from the U.S. Counterinsurgency Guide.[5] Here, it was farmers and Lumad, some of the most vulnerable sectors of Philippine society, that were tagged as rebels, terrorists, communists, etc., simply for knowing and standing for their rights, as the government failed to decimate actual armed revolutionaries in the countryside.

The massacre that took place under the Aquino administration occurred in Kidapawan, Cotabato on April 1, 2016. According to reports, among the group of 6,000 protesters that was mainly composed of farmers and activists, 116 were injured, 87 went missing, and 3 were killed.[6] Perhaps the lilies in “The Doomed” were a metaphor for De Lara Co’s beloved Noynoy.

---

Speaking of Ateneo: For an institution that makes yearly claims to combat historical revisionism and uphold the memory of the victims of human rights violations under the Martial Law era, this university loves to slurp on major Marcos ass. In 2014, President Fr. Jose Ramon Villarin, SJ drew flack for having rubbed elbows with the iron butterfly herself, Imelda Marcos, at an Ateneo scholars’ benefactors’ event.[7] The mere thought of Imelda posing as a charitable, bloated cockroach in a wig that feasts on all that is lavish and garish, while the university welcomes her to do so is nearly comical. I imagine the blood.  

In 2019, a similar incident ensued[8], this time with Imelda’s daughter, Irene, whose art connoisseur lifestyle she lives second-hand. It was during the inauguration of the Arete’s amphitheater, named after Ignacio B. Jimenez, a crony of the corrupt family themselves.[9] Community backlash forced the building’s executive director, Yael Buencamino, to resign and for University President, Fr. Jose Ramon Villarin, SJ to issue a statement in response to the instance.

Yet, despite the triumph of Ateneans in demanding accountability for having the Marcoses at our literal and metaphorical dining table, there are also the Camposes, the Consunjis, the Lorenzos, and other local elite whose hands are stained with generational blood, that have established their presence in the campus with no near hopes of showing them out. Students could also be as loud as they pleased about the violations on workers’, farmers’, and national minorities’ rights that these families are frequently attached to, with only the answer of a warning that school organizations may lose sponsorship opportunities. What else can we expect? Of course, the names that line the halls that one studies in are the limits of academic freedom.

---

A few semesters ago, I wrote a poem to be workshopped by my co-English staffers in Heights as part of our membership retention requirements. It was not a good poem, I know. It was about my experience of integrating with the striking workers of Sumifru, a multinational Japanese company that produces fruit, whose union was called NAMASUFA (Nagkahiusang Mamumuo sa Suyapa Farm). After struggling to get word out of their plight and facing violent dispersals and harassment, 200 workers came all the way from Compostela Valley to Metro Manila via boat and plane, despite the difficulties of travel due to the imposition of Martial Law throughout Mindanao. Their objective was to pressure the DOLE and its Secretary, Silvestre Bello III, into action; that is, to be firm in enforcing Sumifru’s compliance to regularize their workers, which the company refused to do even though the DOLE had legally recognized them as their workers’ employer. The workers set up camp in various places, such as Mendiola, Liwasang Bonifacio, and beside the Commission on Human Rights inside the University of the Philippines Diliman campus, and often welcomed students who came to learn about their cause.  

During the workshop, the discussion began with a silence and an awkward laugh. Political realism was how my poem was diagnosed, for obvious reasons. However, the main critique that I remember was that my use of language– the words multinational corporation and bureaucrat capitalists, in particular– did not induce the feeling of the struggle that the workers went through. It was not the language workers used or would use. I refuted this claim, saying I had talked to the workers. That this is exactly what they say. No, it is not poetic. It is real.

I agree, though, with the verdict that my poem was not good, if the basis were form. I agree because I do not think poems need to be good to say what is needed. If the basis were factors other than form, I still do not think the poem is good. I mean, either way, it does not change the fact that, ultimately, I only wrote a poem for a workshop, despite any intention of bringing awareness to NAMASUFA. Is a poem going to save them their jobs? Does that make a difference? Did it make a difference?

The Sumifru workers returned to Mindanao last July, 2019. I have left Heights as well.

---

Within the Ateneo campus, a tarpaulin overlooks the red brick road that the entire Loyola Schools population traverses. The sign merits a purposeful, impossible-to-miss position on the old Rizal Library building, immortalizing the critique: “We find the Ateneo today irrelevant to the Philippine situation because it can do no more than to service the power elite.” Nothing could be more fitting, in my opinion. The Ateneo de Manila University’s commitment to performativity deserves to be blasted in our faces, if at least once a day.

This declaration was taken from the “Down from the Hill” manifesto published by The Guidon in November of 1968. The manifesto was written by a group of five students, namely Jose Luis Alcuaz, Gerardo Esguerra, Emmanuel Lacaba, Leonardo Montemayor and Alfredo Salanga, all of whom actively campaigned for an anti-imperialist orientation to nationalism.

I want to talk about Eman Lacaba. Throughout the Marcos regime, he was a student activist– a radical, so to speak, as disapproving administrative bodies might now label him. Presently, he is known for being a poet, revolutionary, guerilla, and a martyr during the Martial Law era. One of his most often discussed poems is “An Open Letter to Filipino Artists”, a piece that finds itself into syllabi like a de-fanged snake. The poem is a detailing of his experience as a cadre of the New People’s Army; the provinces he visits, his process of proletarianizing from a burgis boy to a communist rebel, and so forth. The epigraph of the work, a quote from Ho Chi Minh, affirms his praxis– “A poet must learn how to lead an attack.” The poem is the revolution that Lacaba takes up arms for. I guess now that he is dead, Ateneans can wholeheartedly claim him as one of their own.  

After the Martial Law era, Ateneo decided to create a body dedicated to the integration of its students with various disenfranchised sectors of society, as encouragement for their middle to upper-middle class youth to become more socially aware and active. The Office of Social Concern and Involvement (OSCI) is the current iteration of this. Their programs, from first year to fourth, require students to be socially involved enough to pass their Theology units. Commendable, no? Still. You can almost get sanctioned for so much as lighting candles for state-murdered farmers on the sidewalk by the gates outside of campus if it is not an Office of Student Activities-approved event– something I learned the hard way. I was not aware that bureaucracy was a key principle in Catholic Social Teaching.

So, does this mean the opposite of active non-violence is that which is inactively violent? The areas that OSCI allows their students to immerse in are carefully chosen, the interactions are prepared for in advance. In fact, they do not want to use the term “immerse” lest they be misconstrued with the damn leftists that climb mountains and “brainwash” unsuspecting poor people. You know, the ones that dare challenge the status-quo? Ateneo, or at the very least, its administration, will recognize the necessity of political action, but only to a certain extent. Nothing like Eman, the warrior-poet, whose militance is much too red to aestheticize.

The contradiction between what is said (marketed, poeticized, apologized for, etc.) and what is done should be scrutinized, instead of convincing ourselves that our interests are not merely our own. The dominant culture of a society will expose who supports those who hold political and economic power.  

[1] Cigaral (List: Brands operated by Jollibee Foods Corp.)

[2] (Leadership)

[3] Patinio (Jollibee tops list of firms engaged in labor-only contracting: DOLE)

[4] SOH Sanggunian (The Statement of the SOH Sanggunian on Jollibee's PR Stunt)

[5] Karapatan (OPLAN BAYANIHAN For Beginners)

[6] Caparas (WITH VIDEOS: 3 dead, 87 missing, 116 hurt as police fire on Cotabato human barricade)

[7] Francisco (Ateneo de Manila 'sorry' over Imelda's visit)

[8] Paris (Irene Marcos was invited to Ateneo, and students are up in arms)

[9] Rappler.com (Ateneo hit for art ampitheater named after Marcos 'dummy')

Works Cited

Caparas, Jeff. “WITH VIDEOS: 3 Dead, 87 Missing, 116 Hurt as Police Fire on Cotabato Human Barricade.” InterAksyon.com, 1 Apr. 2016, web.archive.org/web/20160402013745/interaksyon.com/article/125901/breaking--security-forces-open-fire-on-cotabato-human-barricade.

Cigaral, Ian Nicolas. “List: Brands Operated by Jollibee Foods Corp.” Philstar.com, The Philippine Star, 24 July 2019, www.philstar.com/business/2019/07/24/1937490/list-brands-operated-jollibee-foods-corp.

Francisco, Katerina. “Ateneo De Manila 'Sorry' over Imelda's Visit.” Rappler, 6 July 2014, www.rappler.com/nation/62549-ateneo-manila-imelda-marcos-apology.

Karapatan (Alliance for the Advancement of People’s Rights). OPLAN BAYANIHAN For Beginners, Karapatan, 2011.

“Leadership.” Leadership | Ateneo Global, global.ateneo.edu/about/leadership.

Paris, Janella. “Irene Marcos Was Invited to Ateneo, and Students Are up in Arms.” Rappler, 8 Apr. 2019, www.rappler.com/nation/227702-irene-marcos-invited-to-ateneo-students-protest-april-2019.

Patinio, Ferdinand. “Jollibee Tops List of Firms Engaged in Labor-Only Contracting: DOLE.” Philippine News Agency RSS, Philippine News Agency, 28 May 2018, www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1036679.

Rappler.com. “Ateneo Hit for Art Ampitheater Named after Marcos 'Dummy'.” Rappler, 21 Apr. 2019, www.rappler.com/nation/228633-ateneo-ignacio-gimenez-ampitheater-marcos-dummy.

“SOH Sanggunian.” SOH Sanggunian - The Statement of the SOH Sanggunian on..., 2 July 2018, www.facebook.com/sohsanggu/photos/a.157891440898864/1893103380710986/?type=3.

[thelostandforgottenangel]

~ Until You Come Back ~

TMNT Leonardo one-shot

Okay please be kind guys because this is officially my first fanfic since the accident and it’s probably some of the worst I’ve done but it was done in 30 minutes after watching a video that made me cry I needed to do something cute and - well we got this

@bloody-hands-pure-hearts1​ @lonelyheart-clubband​ @fyreball66​ @betelgeusessonajblog​ @midnight-chocolate-turtle​ and everyone who loves to read my horrible little stories 

((Do not own these Pictures))

He had been gone for too long. Her best friend in the whole world had been gone for three long years

After New York had celebrated their cities unseen heroes officially giving them credit and bringing the mutants into the light they were finally accepted by many people, some had a hard time accepting them but in the end the turtles had been the unseen heroes and saviors of New York City who could not just warm up to four giant sweet guys being praised around the city. They had left for a month to do training upstate with the military as part of their coming out to the world and the moment they got back it realized while they weren’t protecting the city at night the world had a need for them in the light.

Donatello now worked for the police tech center always upgrading their systems while Raphael and Mikey had on more then one occasion shadowed the swat team on dangerous jobs always the ones to go in first reducing fatalities in the departments officers but the biggest shock was when Leonardo had been contracted by the army to help train their special ops soldiers around the world

The last time she had seen the oldest turtle he had been standing in a camouflaged uniform customized to fit his larger body and around his shell perfectly and his swords on a special pack on the other side of a fence boarding a plane, he had waved to his family but couldn’t meet her eyes as she stood there stone faced not going to show how much it hurt to see him leaving but the moment she could move she ran for it so he wouldn’t see her heart breaking

This was a great opportunity for the leader and if she voiced her hatred of him leaving she knew he wouldn’t go even if she could see this was something he so wanted and after Mikey’s little break down over his oldest brother leaving and her pushing him to go she couldn’t just beg him not too – but he was leaving at the most important time in her life so far

She was graduating in a month then starting college something he had encouraged her to do

She walked across the stage without her family to see they were busy with the new life they had and had forgotten, a week later she had packed up her bags and left the city for the state university she had been accepted too almost laughing when six weeks later Donnie had called her in a panic upon realizing she was gone

They had been so consumed in their jobs she had went unnoticed until they had shown up to her place to find she was gone and her apartment was empty, on top of that with Leo leaving Splinter had named Raphael and Donnie the new leaders since he felt both of them were ready to stand in until Leonardo returned home

It was hard, she had no contact with the blue masked ninja of her own choice but it wasn’t like he had the time to call her but in her heart the woman knew if she saw him and couldn’t reach out to touch him it would have killed her, his job was important she could wait until he was back home, it was rare enough for the guys to hear from him why interrupt their time with her petty crush.

Afterwards she stayed busy and rarely left campus making her unavailable to them as well the few times they had offered to come see her scared the second she saw one of her friends she would break down

Of course they understood as their voicemails had repeatedly reminded her how could they not – she had watched her world walk away when she needed him, after a few months they hadn’t tried to call her, she called a few times once it got too much but all she got was voicemail and no call backs

Sleepless nights and extra classes, mountains of homework and projects she had wished Donnie could have helped her with, and a small coffee addiction that made her genius friends look like normal here she stood in line with the most uncomfortable high heels and a tight blue dress she had found that reminded her of his eyes

The class representative gave his speech that had the people there in tears from laughter looking out seeing the thousands of family’s that had come out to see their graduates walk but as her eyes searched the seats she had bought she was less them shocked to see all of them empty

Her family had disowned her the day they found out that not only was she friends with the turtles but in love with the oldest of the males, they threw her out of her family home and moved out of state like she was their biggest shame in the world but – she had thought just maybe her other family would have been there

She didn’t see Master Splinter, Raph, Don, or Mikey anywhere but she knew they had been sent invitations months early, oh but she could understand them not showing up they were busy, they had lives and jobs that from the outside looked like they were living it big, newspaper articles that decorated her walls and news stories she had recorded showed the guys were doing great beyond somebody like her they had to have forgotten her by now

If not she could just send them the video later

Time passed by slowly as her classmates were called one by one the crowd cheering for them so loudly the air was vibrating around them; finally she stood at the front listening as they listed off every achievement she had mastered top of her class with honors, several certificates and awards and a full nursing degree but as she started to walk across there were no cheers, nobody said a word giving her an uncomfortable silence she hadn’t had all day making her feel like the biggest failure

All those accomplishments and nobody to see it that cared

She was watching the ground her head held low as she got halfway before somebody whistled and whooped loudly followed by clapping

“Go Baby girl! We knew you could do it!”

Her eyes came up fast and landed on four figures standing next to the headmaster her breath leaving her as she looked at them seeing her family standing there looking so handsome and dressed up making her freeze tears welling up in her eyes moving forward fast hugging them in shock when they rushed her and again once she had her diploma laughing as Mikey kissed her head making the crowd clap as they egged others to show her some love

“Now I’d love to stop here and give this young lady just a moment longer because today her family is here to watch her get this diploma and I think we can see she worked hard for it, to be here at this moment with a full record and a job guarantee to any hospital she chooses but today we are saddened to see somebody is missing and we tried to call him on the video chat his brother brought but unfortunately he was un available to talk. You see her biggest supporter serves overseas and I’m sure if he was here today he would be just as proud of her as we all are!”

She was clinging to Splinter who kept telling her how proud he was of her giggling as she got several kisses and hugs from the guys as she tried to wipe away her tears before somebody started shouting and clapping over everyone with a whistle making her look up at the ‘That’s my girl!’ unsure what to think upon seeing a large figure coming down the aisle in a dress uniform walking so proudly towards the front holding a bouquet of roses taking off his hat showing in full leaf green skin and a blue mask moving forward as the crowd roared to life hearing the headmaster over the speakers

“Please put your hands together for returning Specialist Sargent Leonardo Hamato who had just made it home from completing his 40 month tour of duty across the world to see this graduation”

She stood there crying out sure she was dreaming when she felt Raph grab her before she could hit the ground sobbing “Oh my...” before anyone could help her she had pulled up her gown kicking her heels off right there jumping off the stage then bolted down the aisle towards him as fast as she could run “LEO!!!” he leaned down a little laughing as she jumped into his open arms feeling his grip tightening around her as she cried into his neck hugging him tightly repeating his name over and over as he held her

She had no idea how long they stayed like that but all too soon she pulled away wiping her face trying to stop the tears looking up as he chuckled handing the flowers to the young woman as he pulled her face up gently wiping away her tears whispering softly “You look so beautiful – I almost forgot just how much I loved your hugs” his words hadn’t even reached her as he cupped her cheeks leaning down kissing her deeply without any warning barely parting their lips “God I’m so sorry” the woman smiled shaking her head as she pulled him back returning the kiss to the leader with all the passion she had, her arms went around his neck as he pulled her against his chest kissing her like he had wished he had done before leaving. The way he had dreamed of for all those months of missing his beauty

Everything continued around them, his brothers were making cat calls and mocking them but she was too busy welcoming her soldier home for either of them to care

[artistformerlyknownasbutttrumpet]

battle of hogwarts drabble

denial

denial is george still considering himself part a pair, but when he looks to his left, half a sentence on his breath, he finds the one who’d always supply the rest for him is no longer there, and his words hanging in the air, unfinished. denial is andromeda holding teddy in her arms the first time he smiles and seeing tonk’s in his lips and thinking, “wait until she sees how similar they look,” until she remembers that she never will. denial is harry sitting outside looking at the full moon and hoping remus is safe tonight, except he’s not turning tonight; not tonight, not ever.

anger

anger is mr. and mrs. creevey cursing the moment they ever learned magic existed, because if it never became a part of their life they’d have two sons, not one. anger is pavarti throwing out her divination books, because they remind her of lavender, and why is it fair that she is stuck with these memories that do nothing but drill a hole in her chest? anger is what flows in molly’s blood when she sees the missing dinner mat at the table; how she feels when she remembers that she was almost missing more, and although bellatrix’s blood may be on her hands, she’s never once regretted it.

bargaining

bargaining is that moment of weakness when ron feels inadequate under the crushing weight of his family’s grief, and he swears to a god he’s not sure exists that he’d trade places with fred if it meant that they’d be happy again; that, after all, they would miss him less than they miss the twin. bargaining is a young teddy changing his face to mirror remus’ and promising to get nothing but O’s on all his OWLs if he could just hear his father’s voice; just once. bargaining is hermione drowning in guilt in the arms of ron, thinking of lavender, and offering up a little bit of her love for exchange for a bit of relief.

depression 

depression is dennis leafing through pictures taken from his brother’s point of view, and trying to see the world through his eyes, while his own blur with tears. depression is ginny finally breaking after being so strong for so long, and screaming on the top of her lungs about possessions and dead brothers and the unfairness of it all, until collapsing into wailing sobs in harry’s arms. depression is mcgonagall sitting in the headmaster’s chair during the annual sorting and hearing the word, “HUFFLEPUFF” as a tiny teddy is half buried under an old, giant hat, and remembering how his mother’s hair immediately turned yellow when she was sorted into the same house so many years before, and how the color yellow seems too bright right now.

acceptance

acceptance is all of them walking the grounds of hogwarts, memories and love in their hearts, watching the students walk the same paths that once were stained with the blood of the people they lost. but acceptance is also them knowing that they’re not really lost. acceptance is seeing tonks in teddy, not just when he changes his face, but when he drops a plate with a shatter and a loud, “oops!” acceptance is james sirius potter getting reprimanded in the headmaster’s office, an old, tattered piece of parchment in his pocket full of secrets from the pranksters of long ago. acceptance is a toy bunny on lavender’s grave, with a note saying, “i bet binky is happy to see you.” acceptance is colin’s photos blown up and dipped in potion, hung up in the halls of his brother’s house, moving with magic in the way that once awed the small, wondrous boy. acceptance is walking through a joke shop with a child with red hair and dark skin being carried piggy back, and explaining, “this prank was your uncle’s idea. you better live up to his legacy, we didn’t name you fred to have you be well-behaved. no prefects in this family!”

 acceptance is missing the dead so deeply it’s hard to live, but living anyway, in their honor. 

acceptance is love.

it’s loving, and loving, and loving, and holding those who are the most important to you tightly, and never, ever letting go.

[roobierubyroobieruby]

Dirty Little Secret (Part 2)

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Word Count: 1,332

Warnings: bullying/teasing, use of derogatory language, low self-esteem, anxiety

Summary: While at Hogwarts, you strike up a close friendship with Draco Malfoy, even though you’re in different houses. The Draco you know in private however, never treats you the horrendous way that he does in public. Even though it is all about keeping up appearances, you can’t help it when you begin to feel hurt over every harsh word and joke. Which Draco is the real one and how long do you stand by his side?

[Part 1]

Previously: “Wait. Did you want to share the cart with me?”

He hesitated in the doorway, looking over his shoulder as his fingers played with the door.

“That’s ok, I’ve got some friends down a bit further I should probably be getting back to.”

“Oh right, yeah. That’s ok, well thanks for apologizing.”

You gave him half a smile, feeling the sadness creep up at his words that he already has friends. He flashed you a smile and closed the door behind him as he walked off. You would’ve called him a friend, but he hadn’t invited you to sit with those he called his friends, so you felt that this was one way. You reminded yourself of your mother’s words and closed your book, turning to watch the countryside change as you got closer to Hogwarts.

You had eagerly taken in the sights of Hogwarts as you and your classmates moved through the halls, following a woman draped in black and green with a big black hat on. She looked old, and you got the feeling that saying so would be a death wish, but she moved with grace and poise that would have you thinking that her age is irrelevant to her capabilities. She radiated strength, and you were eager to see if she was one of your teachers. 

As you entered the Great Hall to be sorted into your houses, your stomach dropped with anxiety: what if you didn’t fit into your house? What if no one liked you? What if you weren’t good enough to stay at Hogwarts? These thoughts raced around your mind as you watched others go before you. A girl with fluffy hair, Hermione, went first – Gryffindor – and then you heard Draco’s name called. You suddenly felt both eager and scared to hear his result and you didn’t know whether you wanted to be in the same house or not – after all, he was nice and seemed like he would be a good friend, but he also openly dismissed you when someone else was around. The hat screamed out Slytherin before it was even properly on his head and part of you knew that was what he would be. 

Suddenly, it was your name being called. You felt like you had forgotten how to walk as you suddenly realized how many eyes were on you, how many people were now staring at you and awaiting judgement of a magical hat.

 “RAVENCLAW!” The hat bellowed.

 You were overjoyed, Ravenclaw being the house your mother was sorted into, and you looked to the far left of the hall to see the table cheering for you. You snuck a glance to the other side where you saw Draco watching you as you walked to your house, where you were engulfed in hugs and handshakes and pats on the back.

 The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, you only recognized the boy you walked passed who was with the giant man, and everyone gasped when they heard his name. It sounded familiar to you, but you passed it off as being something from a book or story your mother told you once, so you made a mental note to ask her later. He was a Gryffindor also, and that meant that there was no one familiar to you at the table while you ate, but you quickly realized that Ravenclaw was filled with warm, welcoming people, who all made you feel right at home.

While you were eating, and smiling at the stories some of the older students were telling of the moving stairs and pictures and getting lost in the castle, your eyes wondered over to the opposite side of the hall to Slytherin’s table. Malfoy was laughing and looked so care free with his friends that you almost forgot how cold he seemed to get when his father appeared. As if he could feel it, he turned on his bench and met your eyes with a smile before he was punched in the arm by the boy next to him. You saw him wave his hand flippantly before returning to his table. He never turned around again.

 -

 The first few weeks of class flew by, between learning your way around the castle, keeping up with the work load, and studying after dinner, you had your hands full. You managed to make friends quicker than you thought, most were Ravenclaw but you’d met and befriended a few Hufflepuffs in classes, and even met one or two Gryffindors at the library who were also studying. One of them was Hermione, the fluffy haired girl who got sorted first, and you bonded over your mutual love of learning.

 You got into a regular habit of sitting at the same table when you studied at night, although she wouldn’t always come because she would be caught up with her friends – Harry and Ron you came to learn – and looking after them and their shenanigans. On the nights you studied alone, you still sat at the same table but you would move to the end closest to a window where you could stare out at the sky when your mind needed a break.

 One night, you had been staring at your book for 2 hours making notes and trying to commit everything to memory when you decided to reward yourself with a small break. As you stood up and stretched, you yawned as you looked up into the sky and took note of the various stars.

 “I wasn’t the least bit surprised that you landed in Ravenclaw, y’know.”

 “I thought the same of you, getting sorted into Slytherin.”

 You turned to look at him, surprised you hadn’t seen him at all these past few weeks save for meals at the great hall where it was hard to miss his blonde hair amongst the crowd.

 “You could call it a family tradition,” he smirked, before putting his books down on the table next to yours, “I notice you’re studying alone, mind if I join you?”

 “You’ve already put your books down, why’d you bother asking? And I didn’t think Slytherins knew how to study anything except their enemies and the ‘Art of War’?

 You crossed your arms, showing a defiant smile as you stared Draco down. He looked surprised at your goading response, before he broke out into a fit of laughter.

 “I like you. I think we will get along just fine.”

 With that, you sat back down and so began your routine together. You didn’t have any classes together but the nights when Hermione wasn’t there, he would join you in the library where you’d both study and talk about life. He told you of his parents’ strict upbringing, the house he lived in, the stories about what he’d get up to when he was home and bored, and you told him of your home country, your parents, your mum’s teachings, and everything in between. You grew into a comfortable friendship, him easily considered to be a close friend of yours, and you were sure he felt the same of you.

 Before you knew it, it was time for the Christmas break, and students began packing to leave. You sat in the library, in a little seating area below a big window, watching the snow fall while you leafed through a book on Fantastic Beasts. Although this was beyond your year level, you found it fascinating and didn’t notice Malfoy sit down next to you.

 “Not going home for Christmas?”

 You looked up from your page. “No, my parents and I decided it would be best to limit the back and forth travel since we live so far away. We’d see each other when we could, and we talk a lot, but they couldn’t get here this Christmas. Besides, I’m fine to stay here, I have plenty to do.”

 You closed your book and turned to face him, “what about you?”

 He dropped his shoulders, “Mother and father are coming to get me today, although I don’t know why they bother. It’s not as though we spend family time together.” He smirked, but you knew him well enough by now that he was hurt by it too.

 “You can write to me if you want, you know I’ll be here.” You gave him a playful poke in the arm, breaking him out of his thoughts, and he smiled at you in return.

 “I think I’d like that. Anyway, best be off, wouldn’t want to keep Father waiting.”

 He gave you a small wave as he left the alcove, and you felt your smile falter as you suddenly felt the absence of the students. Especially Draco. You grabbed your book and headed back to your room, wanting the comforts of home while everyone left for theirs.

Tag List

@bewithme-forevermore @grumpy-grandma

[davidastbury]

2920 c

Shorts ... #27

He hadn’t been kind to his mother; he hadn’t treated he as he should have done. He never allowed her to get close - rejected her kindnesses - discarded her gifts - didn’t thank her - never showed any gratitude. When they talked he never said the things he should have said, but often said a lot of things he should not have said.

All this was long ago and one way or another he has found ways to be at peace with it. Of course he never asked for her to be his slave - he never wanted her eagerness to do everything for him. And so, here he is today, feeling that same wordless irritation as his second wife over sweetens his tea.

A lost skill .... written by Janet Bailey

There has been a lot of posts about the mills in Bury. When I was hairdressing in the early '60's we used to have lots of women from the cotton mills come for their hair done. You wouldn't dare say anything about them when they were under the hair dryer because they could lip read anything you said. They used to talk to each other while they were under the hairdyers by what they called 'me mawing' just moving there lips. 😃

(Mee-mawing was a form of speech with exaggerated movements to allow lip reading employed by workers in weaving sheds in Lancashire in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The noise in a weaving shed rendered hearing impossible so workers communicated by mee-mawing which was a cross between mime and lip reading. To have a private conversation when there were other weavers present, the speaker would cup their hand over their mouth to obscure vision. This was very necessary as a mee-mawer would be able to communicate over distances of tens of yards. It was said that each mill had its own dialect.

"Stop mee-mawing at me!" means "Stop pulling faces at me or talking behind my back”).

On the Train

She has a disfigurement but I am not going to say anything about it. She’s about twelve or so and life must be difficult. Let’s hope that the doctors will do something - perhaps they have to wait until she reaches a certain age - perhaps they will do something soon.

I can see how she wears her hair in a thick curtain and how she raises one of her shoulders.

Oh God, I hope things are okay at school. I hope she has a loving home - I hope someone is telling her, repeatedly, that she is beautiful.

Night Out

A group of friends - glad to see each other - glad to get drunk together. The men ruddy and randy; the women collapsing with laughter - their voices strident and confident; expressive and exhilaratingly filthy.

So much to be afraid of! So many uncertainties - but none tonight - simply the joy of being a forty-year-old child.

Winter Nights 1965

Cheap rented room in Whalley Range. She’d tried to fix up curtains - tried to make it nice. No TV and burglars had stolen her radio. It was a large room; a leftover from a different world; you could see it in the high ceilings, the double dado rails, the missing interior shutters; the grandeur of the chalk coloured fireplace with its florid carved scrolls, now reduced to housing a sad little electric fire.

These were nights of twilight and shadows; when it seemed as cold inside as out. When the yellow streetlights leaked through the draughty windows and the twigs of the giant chestnut tree scraped across the glass.

And they huddled together. They couldn’t have been happier. Nights of cider and cigarettes - of sour metallic kisses - nights when he couldn’t get enough of her - nights when he was insatiable for her quick mind, her breath, her hair, her voice, her face, warmth, smell.

And the world could not offer anything better to him - he never forgot those nights in the cheap rented room in Whalley Range.

Madame

During our last stay in this hotel we got to know one of the long-term residents. It was at the time of her eightieth birthday and the staff made a big fuss for her. I was fascinated by her raucous smoker’s voice and how she called everyone ‘dhaaa-ling’ - and the way she somehow combined being warm and friendly with downright aggressiveness.

I wrote a little piece about her which I posted on here at the time - just a simple incident - hopefully giving a truthful picture...

In the restaurant: Madame looks up sharply.

Madame: ‘Who has taken away my water?’

Waiter: ‘I took it, I thought you had finished.’

Madame: ‘Well, I haven’t!’

Waiter: ‘I will get you some more.’

Madame: ‘That’s no use. I had dissolved my pills in that glass!’

Waiter: ‘I am sorry.’

Madame: ‘It will be your fault if I get pregnant.’

So we were delighted to see her again - and to learn that she hasn’t slowed down.

We sat at the next table and Pat was able to overhear this little gem.

Madame: ‘Waiter!’

Waiter: ‘Yes Madame?’

Madame: (poking dish with a fork) ‘Is this really butter?’

Waiter: ‘Yes it is, Madame.’

Madame: ‘I do not believe you. I don’t think this is butter at all - it’s more like candle-wax: if I dig into it I will probably find a wick!’

The school bag.

The hotel allocates a space where departing guests can leave items for which they have no further use. Four or five shelves brimming with things like deluxe swimming goggles, piles of books and magazines, inflatable alligators, straw hats, sun creams, flip flops etc. Anyone can take what they want.

I saw a girls school bag; lots of pockets, pink shoulder straps - a bit knocked about - ‘well used’ is the phrase. The interior was scuffed and marked by felt-tip pens, which the owner had not capped - and traces of stickers, unsuccessfully scratched away by her thumbnail. I held it upside down to shake out the sand and the flap swung open revealing a drawing on the underside - a childish image of a kitten in a bow tie, surrounded by bunches of marijuana leaves. I had to smile.

And then, under the picture of the unfeasibly cute kitten, she had neatly stencilled her name ... Lucie Wider.

I put it back on the shelf.

‘O Master of the Universe,

Bless the life of Lucie Wider!’

R.

We knew each other for a few short weeks - right up to the time she left out little town forever. London was the magnet and I understood her reasons for going - I didn’t question any of it - I let the day come round and carried her bags and cases to the station - and I watched the bus take her away.

That was a long time ago. I heard nothing from her in the first few weeks and months - and then the months became years - in fact, nearly sixty years. And now others will have filled her life and they will see her as she is - but for me it is entirely different - I hold a gleaming fragment - fixed forever at that moment; how she had panicked over a last-minute confusion with her ticket - how she was cheerful and tried not to look at me - how she was heartbreakingly soulful - how she tried to smile and how hard she tried not to cry.

Ian and Lorna...1966

‘Come round anytime’ - said Ian - so I did. It was a midweek afternoon and I cannot remember why I was free, but I was. The door wasn’t fastened and I pushed it back and went in. Silence. No sign of Ian - no sign of anyone. And then I saw the shoes - his and hers; Ian’s and Lorna’s.

I stood staring at them and thinking that in a medieval painting it would have meant that the two saints had gone to heaven. I then realised that they were upstairs in the bedroom, so in a way, they had gone to heaven.

A window was open and the curtains were flapping. There was a school nearby, and it must have been playtime; voices shrieking and screaming with happiness.

I left - pulling the door shut behind me.

The Room ... 1964

She kept the rent-book on a table near the door, so that the landlord didn’t have a need to come into the room. It was a large room with three south-facing windows and the green carpet had three bands of faded colour, bleached by the summer sunshine. The furniture obviously hadn’t been planned; a few items bought with economy in mind - a sofa with cat scratches, a cheap drop-leaf table, a wardrobe with a door that kept swinging open, a strong, ugly bed. The only expensive item was her Spanish guitar, propped in the corner furthest from the door, next to a pile of sheet music.

She was very tidy; he wasn’t - but she didn’t mind. When alone she put all his ‘stuff’ away and did what she could to make the room attractive; but it was always unpleasant - except for the nights when they were together - the nights when, in the gloom, she glowed like a silver goddess and their damp foreheads touched and he saw both her eyes melt together and become a single eye, like a beautiful cyclops and she and the room slid into a perfection where everything was sour, salty, brackish.

Roman Baths

My dislike of the ancient Romans - and pretty much everything about them - has caused my aversion to ‘health spas’. I am sure that the Roman enthusiasm for personal hygiene and public bathing played a significant part in their decadence - and as such I avoid the modern equivalent of these facilities.

I have no wish to linger in agitated tepid water nor to loiter, like Nero, in steam rooms, with a towel over one shoulder. Nor to be oiled and mauled by persons of either sex. I am repulsed by the fussing and pampering and the weird relaxed regression into childishness. And despite great admiration for Jim Bacchus, I would not enjoy sprawling bare bellied, with a bunch of grapes on my head, a goblet of wine in my hand, surrounded by the nude frolickings of nymphs and Cupids.

Natasha and her brother Nikolai in their droshky, returning home, late at night.

‘You know,’ she suddenly said, ‘I know I’ll never again be as happy and peaceful as I am now.’

‘That’s nonsense, silliness, rubbish,’ said Nikolai, and thought: ‘How lovely my Natasha is! I have no other friend like her and never will. Why is she getting married? We could keep driving around together!’

‘How lovely my Nikolai is!’ thought Natasha.

‘Ah! there’s still light in the drawing room,’ she said, pointing to the windows of the house, shining beautifully in the wet, velvet darkness of the night.

( Tolstoy: War And Peace ... vol.2 pt.7 )

The Couple

I had a feeling that things would not go well for them. Everything looked fine; they were young and radiated happiness and optimism - he, doing well at his firm; she, post-grad in Russian Lit and offered a permanent position - you couldn’t find a nicer couple. But I had this feeling and it coloured the way I viewed them.

Impossible to put into words, of course. It wasn’t anything that I could explain - utterly intangible - to the point that I suspected myself of projecting some inner malice - some grudging resentment - perhaps some unconscious jealousy.

Only later, when hearing from friends, did a faint perception begin to dawn. There had been too much of ‘something’ about them. I didn’t know what that something was - I still don’t know what it was ... but that ‘too much’, which had illuminated their happiness and optimism, became the ‘too much’ which broke them.

[freshmusicfreak]

Having done a lot of Anjuna-related travel in the weeks prior to Anjunabeach, my excitement didn’t really develop until I was waiting for my Anjuna Angel John at the Portland airport.  As we got to the gate, we ran into 6 Portland Anjunafam who were on our flight. Erin had painted an amazing picture of Above & Beyond playing to a crowd and had arranged gifting it to them at Anjunabeach the next day.  John and I scurried to the lounge to grab some breakfast and requisite mimosas before our flight boarded. After takeoff, one of the flight attendants noticed John’s A&B Acoustic shirt and asked if we were also going to Anjunabeach.  She said her kids had hooked her on A&B years ago and then gave us free drinks!

The rest of our Anjunacrew was on a later flight so we hopped in the hotel van to chill with our friends.  As it was Erin’s birthday weekend, Devon had a round of tequila shots delivered to the room as they discussed their tattoo plans.  They found a parlor that was taking walk-ins, so off we went for some birthday tattoos! Anjuna logo for Erin, Cirez D for Judit, and J’ai envie de toi for Devon while the rest of us went to lunch.  

Anjunaflight #1

Anjunaflight #2

Anjunacrew Has Landed

Anjunavan

John and I were picked up in the Anjunavan and reunited with our Anjunacrew to head to our Anjunabnb.  (You bet your ass we were Anjuna-labeling everything all weekend!) There’d been a bit of a snafu with our original airbnb being double-booked and since we tend to make magic happen, we were re-booked at no extra charge at a nicer spot half a block from the beach!  Like kids at camp, we all rushed the rooms to claim our beds, changed and headed to the beach.

We dragged the speaker to the beach to blast some Anjuna and I ran straight to the ocean.  Having grown up in Hawaii, I’m a water baby, so Lance and I went for a swim while Anjunadad David was yelling at us “don’t go so far!”  I could hear Anjunamom Ashley saying “she grew up in Hawaii, I’m sure she’s fine!” The sun was disappearing in the clouds as we did a quick change and then walked to a local taco spot where we lost Devon to see Gareth Emery at TIME.  We told him to report back on how it was since we would be there for Above & Beyond’s Anjunabeach afterparty the following night. Tacos and margaritas were had and we did a booze stop on our way back. Invite texts and calls were going out to the homies as we tested out how soundproofed the house was.  After doing a bit of an Ace Ventura sliding glass door test, we were cleared to par-tay!

Saltwater Makes Me Happy

On the Decks in the Anjunabnb

Michael got the turntables fired up and the Elliptical Sun crew were the first to show up.  Of course there was the inevitable arguing over who wanted what tracks played. This then led into who was the most anticipated act and what tracks might be played at Anjunabeach the next day.  More Portland and Seattle friends dropped by throughout the night and as the party wound down, Devon finally rolled in around 3am. Apparently his phone died and he walked several miles in the wrong direction til he was able to catch a cab.  After cleaning his tattoo we all headed to bed.

One of the first ones up, I started rounding up the crew for some brunch.  Nikki and I were searching for a good spot and landed on the same one right on the water.  As we opened the menus, we were a bit shocked by the cost of breakfast (Cali, right?!?) until we noticed that it included bottomless mimosas.  Suddenly the price was totally worth it! After we imbibed about a bottle of champs each we headed back to the Anjunabnb. With the arrival of Amy, our Anjunacrew was complete.  While the girls started getting ready, Michael hit the decks again.

After herding the cats, everyone piled into the Anjunavan and we headed to Anjunabeach.  Seeing all the beautiful glittery people walking towards the venue was really exciting! An Anjunafam friend was giving away a VIP ticket, so I messaged him on FB and he emailed me the ticket.  GODDAMN I LOVE ANJUNAFAM! I could now hang out with John in VIP if I wanted, not to mention the bathrooms are always nicer #girlproblems. We parked a ways from the venue and along the walk, David found a giant palm leaf which he decided was going to be his totem, and dubbed it the Anjunafan.  Anjunamom Ash was against the idea, whereas I was in full support. A, I wanted to see what security said when he walked in with it. B, I’d benefit from being able to spot the crew from anywhere in the crowd. And C, I mean, come on, it was going to be a source of endless hilarity. This was when David dubbed his wife Ash as the angel on his shoulder, and me, the devil, since I’m always egging him on.  It was a pretty fair assessment.

We split up to walk in the different GA and VIP entries and immediately bump into Cody, a friend of John’s I’d met at 250.  He said to his girl friend, “do you remember Sandra from 250?” And she goes “YEAH! The butt biter!” Yup, that’s me! I do have a tendency to bite beautiful women’s bubbly butts at festivals.  Of course, AFTER asking for permission, cause my momma raised me right. #notsorry

GA Meetup

Heading into VIP

WA Anjunafam

Unfortunately, we’d missed most of the yoga set so we meandered our way through the VIP area, found a convenient entrance directly onto the rail and then made our way back to find our group as Luttrell began.  Having seen him multiple times in the last couple months, I decided to enjoy more of the venue than I normally do and convinced John to go on the carnival swings since I didn’t get to ride any rides at Paradiso the weekend before.  It was on our walk to the carnival rides that I realized exactly how big the venue was and remembered how taxing it is to walk on sand. John needed to stop for a breather and we discussed how sexy our calves were gonna be the next day.  Thankfully the line was short, so we only had to wait a little bit before I was hopping on a swing. I made John take a picture and as soon as it started up I imagined I was a P-51 Mustang with my arms out like an airplane, making bomber noises and returning imaginary fire from the Luftwaffe.  Of course I had to ham it up even more as the swings dipped us down towards the line of people waiting for their turn and was amply rewarded by them cracking up, a few even returned fire. Oh yes, I really am a huge nerd. Feeling light as a feather after some time in flight, John and I decided to check things out a little and found a giant beach chair, so of course took the photo opportunity.  The crowd was growing by the time we found our friends again where we danced together until I flitted off like the social butterfly that I am.

I returned to the rail, a bit stage left where I met a beautiful new friend, Claire, who was seeing A&B for the very first time.  Introductions were made to her group, a mixture of newbies and old hats. As I was chatting with them, all of the sudden someone surprised me and lifted me up on their shoulders.  I almost toppled over backwards, but Devon had me. The view was amazing from up there and we danced a bit to the mustachioed man’s Don’t Forget to Breathe, one of my Luttrell favorites until he put me down.  I decided I wanted to wear his shades for a while so we swapped, although it took some convincing that my heart sunglasses looked as good on him as they did on me. One of my favorite people to dance with, Devon and I did some swing dance twirls and then he shuffled it up a bit.  Ran into Eevee, another Seattle friend I’d just spent the past weekend with at Paradiso and we all danced together at the rail.

Lane 8 came on and we headed back to our group since several of them are huge fans of his.  Most of us had been at his This Never Happened Portland tour stop and I wanted to experience it with them again.  His set started out with some fire, which I was very thankful for as he tends to be a little more chill. We danced together til his set started veering back into the more subtle deep house he prefers.  I was hoping that he’d play Skin and Bones, but alas! Feeling a bit antsy, I asked if anyone wanted to go on the carnival swings. Three of the group were ready, so I led the way.

Now, crowds don’t typically bother me at all, but as I was ducking and dodging people, it seemed like the Ferris Wheel was even farther away than it had been when we left the crew.  I got a slightly panicky feeling and then reminded myself I was surrounded by Anjunafam, so just chill girl, you got this! In the line for the swings, the group picked if they were going to be Allies or Axis, as I informed them we were about to be in the dogfight of our lives.  When I asked which way to return fire if I holler that there’s a Messerschmitt approaching at your 3:00 and was met with blank looks, I had to explain the clock system to the amateurs of the group. After they understood the system, I made some new friends in line who wanted to play along.  When we got up and started swinging around, there were 7 of us all shooting and returning fire.

After the ride we walked back the long way to get a drink and make our way back to the VIP section.  We came across a zombie who was taking pictures with girls and then asking for their numbers to send the picture to them.  Mmmmhmmmm… I see you dude. Mat Zo was on by this time and I was transported back to Red Rocks where I’d seen Mat play for the first time.  Just like Red Rocks, he was my most anticipated act of the day, and he didn’t disappoint. His set was a great mix of hits from the 2012 Anjunabeats presents, 2013 Damage Control and 2016 Self Assemble.  As we were yet again cutting through the crowd to find our friends, he hit us with his fresh new house release Bad Posture. So rather than doing my typical “excuse me, excuse me hon” dipping through the crowd, I was dancing through/with everyone and giving high fives as he fed that funky track right into Soul Food.  Knife Party’s Destroy Them With Lasers was on by the time we found the Anjunacrew and I jumped around with them while I was hearing Mike Myers saying LASERS in my head. Then Mat blew my mind when I heard the opening chords of Underworld’s Born Slippy. I was momentarily speechless and stood there with my mouth hanging open.  1995’s Born Slippy was one of the first electronic tracks I’d ever heard, and it’s one of the iconic tracks that paved my way into the world of raves. And GODDAMMIT, he did it again with a remix of Lustral’s 1997 track Everytime. I’m officially a Mat Zo fangirl. Where’s the Mat Zo fanclub at? Sign me up!

Anjunabeach Chair

Half of the Anjunacrew

Erin Gives the Boys her Painting

Above & Beyond took the stage and the boys got things going with a Chocolate and Sirens of the Sea mash up, which was perfection as it matched the Sirens kandi gifted by Amy that morning that I was fist bumping as I danced.  All of the sudden I spotted Hayley, a fellow Anjuna Angel in front of us so I scooched through the crowd to finally meet in person. We’d been dancing next to each other at Porter Robinson in Vegas the month prior and yet this was the first time we officially met.  The wistful piano of Cold Feet began and Hayley turned and gave me the biggest hug. She knew it was a track that makes me hurt a bit as I’ve had several men in my life who have trampled me with their cold feet. I stayed with Hayley’s group through Virtual Self’s Ghost Voices which we’d both heard Porter play in Vegas.  I then decided I needed to get back up to the rail to see Paavo and Tony up close and personal with my new friends.

What I’ve always admired about Above & Beyond is their seamless transitions and how the lyrics in the succession of tracks belong together.  I recently healed from a devastating break up and became Alright Now and it’s often been the beat of the drum touching me Lovingly that’s made me forget about my bad luck with love.  It was perfect timing that I was bequeathing my new friends their first pieces of Anjunabeach-themed kandi that the track of the same name began playing. As I danced around with my eyes closed, it truly was Happiness Amplified and my smile only grew bigger as I recognized Andrew Bayer’s remix of the 2000 classic Strange World.  Remembering that David had specifically requested that I NOT social butterfly all day and make sure I spent time with him, I headed back as I could tell by the cooling air that it would be ending soon. Jumping up and down to Ilan’s Will We Remain as I made my way back to the Anjunacrew, David was nowhere to be found. Oh well… I tried David!  With arms around each other, we sang our hearts out to Sun & Moon and of course screamed for an encore as the music died down.

I’ve never seen the boys NOT play an encore, and their selection of On The Beach was a bit of odd perfection.  While swaying to this gentle melody, I looked around and saw many people with tears in their eyes. The ending of any Above & Beyond event tends to leave me overjoyed and ebullient, but this track left me melancholy.  Were it not for the knowledge that I was going to see the boys play TIME in a couple hours, I would’ve broken into tears then and there as Justine sang “Say goodbye to all your friends. Time to leave and go home again.  Sad to fly and leave behind the sun.” I can barely wait til the next time I see all my furry friends on the beach!

Anjunafam in an Anjunabnb on Anjunabeach Having done a lot of Anjuna-related travel in the weeks prior to Anjunabeach, my excitement didn’t really develop until I was waiting for my Anjuna Angel John at the Portland airport.  

[snails4martianrights-blog]

Some Stuff in Northern Vietnam

^ Some weird fruit I was given

I recently went to Vietnam for about five days, but upon arriving there with a huge list of things i wanted to do, coupled with what the locals were saying about how long it would take to get everywhere, I concluded that you should probably take at least two weeks to properly appreciate Vietnam, more if you can. For example, I heard great things about Halong Bay, but it takes around five hours to get there from Hanoi. Same for Sa Pa Terraces. 

Anyways, I’ll tell you what I did get to do.

I always end up in different airports, and I’d like to note that the Taipei airport for my connecting flight was quite nice, and very clean. In fact, everywhere I looked there was some random old lady idly grazing the already clean floor with a broom, not a care in the world. I want that job. The Taipei airport also featured a store called "Indigenous Taiwanese Souvenirs," from which I, of course, bought genuine Polish cherry rum liqueur candies and happily watched the lady sweep the same spot on the floor for an hour. 

After enduring the visa process in the Hanoi airport (I have never had an official take my passport and not give it back without any explanation for twenty minutes before), I got a cab to the Hotel La Siesta, which I found a deal for on the internet. The room was about $50 a night, which is over a million Dong, the currency in Vietnam. The scariest thing about Vietnam was the large numbers I heard every time I bought something. 

Hotel La Siesta

^ The room I got in Hotel La Siesta

This place is phenomenal and I can’t say enough good things about them. Not only was it super inexpensive to stay here, but it earns it’s four star rating. The rooms are clearly set up for a romantic getaway- flower petals on the beds, hard wood floors, and cute bathroom windows. I certainly didn’t mind, though I was by myself. 

The free breakfast in the morning is a mind blowing mix of all the best foods ever. There was dim sum, bruschetta, spring rolls, sushi, French pastries, and basically everything else. Wow. 

If you're into the party life, this hotel is also well situated. It's in a fun area with easy access to basically everywhere, and you can walk to some nice night life.

My room was right across from the spa inside the hotel and that is a damn good spa. I enjoy massages in Vietnam far more than Thai massages in Thailand because I wasn't crying internally. This was a good time and I would certainly recommend a massage from this hotel and also this hotel itself. 

The staff is in a class of their own. “Helpful” is a complete understatement. They offered to arrange transport to my next stop as well as call another hotel to set me up a reservation. They personally talked me through my travel plans and went through the logistics of my plan with me (thereby forcing me into the conclusion that I was not going to be able to see everything I wanted). They helped me arrange a train ride in a sleeping car to Dong Hoi the area of the Phong Nga caves, some of the biggest caves in the world. They offered to continue to help me in my travels after I’d checked out, though I told them I would be fine.

Hanoi

Hanoi is a dense area with a lot of shops, bars, historical monuments, mopeds, outdoor cafes with little plastic stools, bubble tea, pho, and fishing boats on the water. A lot of the time, people will sleep on the floor of their shop until someone walks in. If you walk to the back of the store you’re liable to find yourself in someone’s house. Sometimes you can see a family’s entire living space just from looking at the front of a store, because they generally have a whole front wall missing instead of having a door. They pull down a metal security door at night to close up. 

^ Shrimp

^ Random street

^ Store full of local antiques

^ The only gate left standing after the French invasion. apparently the French couldn’t quite crack it open, but there is a cannon ball mark still present on the upper left part. The rest of the wall has been destroyed, presumably by the French.

There is a road of official government buildings in Hanoi that look like they might have been reclaimed from the French, painted yellow, and decorated with communist banners and symbols. These buildings look like beautiful old manor houses, and maybe they once were. All of the windows were open on most of them. Maybe they don’t have air conditioning?

^ This picture doesn’t really do these building justice, but I was taking the pics as communist soldiers stared through my life, so I thought I’d be fast.

Journey to the Phong Nga Caves

So I have been salivating to get the chance to explore the largest discovered cave in the entire world, Son Doong. Son Doong has its own forest and separate ecosystem inside, as well as some camping opportunities. Sadly, this is a trip you need to be a hard core caver for, which involves being well prepared gear-wise, as well as arranging in advance with the Vietnamese government to pay $3000 for entrance to the cave. 

Son Doong is, on top of the other issues, a "level four" cave, which apparently means rappelling from the ceiling into a dark hole. Not my style. That’s why I went into a different set of caves in the same park. 

I rode the sleeping train down to Dong Hoi. The train itself is a sardine tin for people, and does not have a nice bathroom. Or nice anything else. It works though, function over form. On the way back, I did meet some nice people at the train station, including one middle aged lady selling food on the side of the track. She didn't speak English but she was able to use interpretive dance to tell me that my train would be late. I sat down on one of her stools and bought a beer and some peanuts. We became insta-friends and she took me behind her store to show me where she made the food and we took selfies. When my train came, she cheerfully kissed my face and shoved me toward the train. 

^ The train station with a bunch of vendors on the side

^ The train sleeping car. Not the fanciest way to travel.

^My newest best friend. We drank beer and she showed me where she makes the food in a random armchair out back near the bathrooms. She charges people money to use the bathrooms. Pretty slick. She also gives free peanuts to people who buy stuff. 

On the train they wheel around a giant bowl of soup for people to eat from, but most people brought their own food. Someone grabbed my leg at around 5 am and said my stop was next, so I sat up, got my stuff and disembarked. I found myself in the countryside. I found two guys with backpacks that looked lost and were speaking German and I asked (in English) if they were trying to go into the caves. They said yes and so I tagged along with them.

I ended up being thrown onto a tour bus with a bunch of Europeans and other pasty flavors, as well as Sunny, our local tour guide. Sunny was a cheerful, yellow shirted story teller, who delighted us with cave information and tales of the valiant communists who united the country under the freedom of the sickle and hammer during the Vietnam War, using the caves as an underground network, naturally. Despite the interference of the deluded but well-meaning capitalists (she said as she gazed deeply into my deeply neutral Bald Eagle Stare), the northerners used the rough terrain that we were traversing to hide from their enemies and deliver much needed supplies. Sadly, one of the supply routes became blocked when a group of children played too close to a boulder which fell and trapped them. They were fed through a crack for nine days, but stopped taking the food. In more recent times, the rock was able to be moved without destroying the cave and the skeletons removed. She also told us that every Vietnamese household has a tiger because every Vietnamese man claims his wife is one.

Sunny would not stop giving us water bottles. I think she didn’t want us to overheat, but I’d already brought my own so I made a joke that I looked like I was trying to smuggle water across the border. I started hearing people try to dissect the joke in several different languages, obviously not understanding why I thought it was funny. But there was a Canadian who said she knew we had had a water smuggler all along. She was watching me. 

Paradise Cave

This cave was previously thought to be formed by a river or inlet of ocean flowing through a crack in the earth, but now they know it was formed independently, when a bunch of underground water began to cut out minerals about 400,000 years ago. This cave is the longest cave in the world, though not the largest. Cutting through the cave is a wooden walk way, but it only goes 1 km there and back. It does not go all the way through the cave for conservation reasons. It is a shame but would also have taken a few days to walk all of it. The entire cave looks like melted peanut butter. 

^ Paradise Cave entrance

^ Inside the cave

^ Still exploring along the wooden cave walkway

^ This is a spot where a bunch of people were taking selfies. It is also I think  near where some guy said to me, “I don’t speak English. You are nice looking and I hope you have a good day.” Take notes gentlemen.

Lunch

We had lunch in an outdoor restaurant, which seems to be the norm here. The food came in giant leaf platters. Sunny decided to leave and never come back, so she yelled “bye!” and then left us all, and we were confused.  

We finished our lunch and milled around haphazardly inside a storm of frantic people handing out cave equipment. Eventually we used our collective unconscious to migrate in the general direction of the start of the cave.

^ FOOD LEAF FUCK YEAH

^ Food leaf restaurant

^ View of the end of the Dark Cave adventure from the restaurant

Dark Cave

Dark Cave was a fun adventure, and I couldn’t take my camera into it, because you have to swim the whole way. You are supposed to climb a two story tower from which you zip line into the cave entrance. After finishing the zip line, you climb into the water in your bathing suit, hard hat and life jacket and swim to a wooden walk way inside. Then you swim and walk through a really dark bat cave with what look like volcanic rocks lining the tall overhang, and climb through a slippery dark passageway inside the cave. We ended up in a super dark area (dark cave, weird that it would be called that), and there was a small cavern where we took off our life jackets and swam into what was basically a mud bath. The water was flowing slowly toward the back of the cave where it disappeared into a small crack going under ground. Fresh water came into the cave from the other side and the bottom and sides of this cavern were clay. I naturally floated at about chest level without effort, and everyone was giggling and making clay dicks on the wall and throwing mud at each other. One guy collected so much mud that he had an armful and was pretending to be a mud merchant selling his wares.We were told after about a half hour that we had to leave :(

We then went back out to the boats outside the cave and went over to the mini obstacle courses over the water and a dangerous looking water swing that no one died on but probably could have.

We were led back to the restaurant, where a bunch of puppies had come out to play in the middle of the day. They gave us rum and coke, and we watched the puppies run around. It was a good time.

^ This is a different view of the end of the Dark Cave adventure, but if you’d like more information or pictures, the below link is the tour guide page.

http://sondoongcavetour.abstravel.asia/dark-cave-tour-with-kayak-zipline-1-day.html

Dong Hoi

I got dropped off at sunshine hotel in dong hoi and didn't stay at the super boonies around the caves because I figured it would be easier to access the train that way. I was torn from my fellow mud merchants, and deposited at the hotel. I was initially concerned about a last minute hotel reservation being expensive and boy was it. A whole 400, 000 dong. That twelve dollars really set me back. I cried so hard that my own personal tears solved the world water crisis.

The hotel did have free mopeds to borrow but I figured I would hurt myself if I used one. I spent a long time watching fishing boats on the beach instead.

^ That twelve dollars got me two beds and hard wood floors.

^ So it seems like in most Vietnamese bathrooms, the shower head is just sort of on the wall like this and you just shower in the middle of the floor. It’s not as weird as it seems.

^ Nice restaurant with a good view of the neighborhood 

^ Crunchy egg rice with cucumbers

^ Shrimp

^ Part of the small bay near Dong Hoi

^ This church had a sign nearby declaring it to be evidence of American war crimes. Clearly it has been destroyed and possibly bombed.

^ Neat building I saw