#not being self deprecating its just really not intended to be special

[emonaculate]

Episode O: Teaser

For as long as I can remember, I've been different—special in ways I couldn’t quite understand. Maybe it was my unusually white hair or my blue eyes that resembled frozen ice cubes. I’ve tried to blend in, to act as if nothing was wrong, but normal has never been my forte.

You’re probably reading this and wondering what I’m babbling about. This isn’t the story you signed up for, right? You want to hear about all the villains I've taken down, the babies’ foreheads I’ve kissed after saving New Tokyo from yet another threat. Well, I’m getting to that—just let me be a little melodramatic for a moment. Jesus, can I ever catch a fucking break?

To those of you who just happened to stumble upon this book and have no idea what I’m talking about, let me explain. My name is Satoru Gojo, and I’m the one and only Spider-Man, protecting my home, New Tokyo, from anything and anyone that threatens its peace.

This little book you’ve found—yes, the one you’re nosily reading—is my diary of sorts. My therapist recommended I write down my feelings. According to her, I’m “severely mentally unstable” and she thinks that voicing my thoughts instead of relying on self-deprecating jokes might help me get “better.” So, here we are.

And don’t worry your pretty little head; I fully intend to start from the very beginning and explain exactly what made me so unstable in the first place. Fair warning: my story is a long one. Not that I think you mind—look at you, all curled up in your cozy pajamas, excitedly waiting for me to share the depressing tale of my life. Yeah, I can see you; don’t act shy now. Fix your posture and go drink some water! I know you’re hunched over and probably haven’t left your room all day (and no, work doesn’t count).

Sorry, that’s an old habit I picked up from—well, it doesn’t matter. Let’s begin, shall we?

Satoru was jolted awake by the sound of his curtains being ripped open, the bright sunlight burning through his closed eyelids.

"Get up, loser."

The now fifteen-year-old boy sat up and glared at his attacker; his piercing sapphire eyes locked onto a pair of matching ones. Of course, who else would wake up the birthday boy in such a cruel fashion but his annoyingly cheerful older sister, Sayori Gojo?

Standing at 5'10", Sayori looked down at her younger brother with a devilish smirk. The piercing in her lower lip gleamed with mischief, mirroring the sparkle in her eyes. Though they shared striking features—those vivid eyes and snowy white hair—the siblings couldn’t be more different. Sayori was as pale as could be, and her once-long, beautiful hair was now a choppy mess that seemed impossible to tame. It also didnt help that she had the features of a model. However, piercings adorned her face: in her nose, on her tongue, and, of course, in her bottom lip, all of which their parents disapproved of.

"You're going on fifty... why do you act like this?" Satoru grumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

A squeak of disbelief escaped Sayori’s lips, clearly shocked by her brother’s claim. "I am only twenty-seven! I just recently turned that age, so let’s not act like it’s anywhere close to fifty, you freak."

Gojo rolled his eyes, slipping out of bed to stretch and prepare for his day—his birthday.

Satoru turned his back to Sayori, moving to his (one of many dressers) to pull out clothes for the day. He could feel her lingering in the doorway, a smirk still plastered on her face.

"Seriously, Sayori, I need to get dressed," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, not wanting her to mock him for anymore voice cracks. "You can’t just barge in here and expect to hang out while I’m half-asleep."

Sayori leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "But it’s my job as the older sister to make sure you don’t just throw on whatever looks least wrinkled."

"Well, I’m not a toddler anymore. I can dress myself." He threw a shirt over his shoulder, missing the mark as it landed on his bed instead.

"But can you really?" she teased, stepping further back into the room, her eyes scanning the chaos of clothes, figurines, and gaming controllers strewn about. "What if you end up wearing something ridiculous? You know how embarrassing that would be on your big day?"

"Sayori," Gojo warned, spinning to face her with a glare that could kill. "If you don’t get out of my room right now, I swear I’ll tell mom and dad where you were on family picture day."

Sayori's eyes widened in horror as she lifted her hands up as a sign of surrendering. Yes she was a grown woman, but both she and Satoru knew that making their parents unhappy meant them telling the siblings' grandfather.. and no one wanted to disappoint grandfather.

"Fine. Don't come crying to me if you get bullied for some funky ass fit."

"Yeah, Yeah," Satoru said, smirking as he nudged her toward the door. "Now out you go. I’m serious."

With a dramatic sigh, Sayori finally relented, stepping back into the hallway.

"Otaku loser."

She murmured to herself as she walked away from the door, flipping off the teen.

"Crack whore," he called after her, slamming the door before she could come back to kick his ass. As he turned back to his reflection, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the string of curses that followed the older woman banging on his locked room door. Once the banging died down, Satoru redirected his attention to focusing on getting ready for his birthday celebration.

Today wasn’t just any day for Satoru; it was the one day a year his family pretended he was their top priority. While most kids looked forward to presents or parties, Satoru just looked forward to being noticed.

Sayori’s visit, as chaotic as it was, had been a rare gesture. Usually, she was the ghost of the house, flitting in and out of their lives, almost always in defiance of whatever their parents were trying to enforce at the moment. If their parents praised something, she was bound to hate it. If they disapproved, she’d embrace it with open arms. But even with all her rebellion, she still managed to show up for his birthday each year, barging in to tease him and make a ruckus just because she knew it mattered to him.

His parents, however, were another story. Gojo Enterprise was their true firstborn, and everything else—including him—seemed to come second. They rarely had time for him, and on the off chance they did, their visits usually consisted of half-hearted advice, critiques on his school achievements, or reminders of how he could "be even better." If they bothered to ask about his grades, it wasn’t because they cared about him but because they wanted to show off his straight As in one of their many social gatherings.

Satoru sighed, already preparing for the disappointment he was bound to face today, as he glanced at his blurry reflection in the mirror. Staring back was a scrawny, pale kid with a mess of white hair that never seemed to settle the way he wanted. He gave his reflection a halfhearted smirk. It wasn’t that he hated how he looked—well, maybe a little—but it wasn’t exactly what he’d call intimidating, either.

He squinted, barely making out the details of his own face in the glass.

"I really need to find my glasses," He muttered, groping around on his dresser until his hand brushed the familiar, clunky frames. Sliding them on, his vision cleared, and he grimaced. There he was, in all his nerdy glory, complete with a pair of thick glasses that did nothing to boost his confidence.

Satoru sighed again as he rifled through his clothes, pulling out a graphic tee featuring a retro anime character that probably no one else in his class even knew about. He tugged it over his head and then picked out a pair of faded jeans that were just slightly too big. His sister's teasing rang in his mind, and he huffed, folding up the cuffs so he wouldn’t trip over them.

As he fiddled with his clothes, he caught sight of his reflection once more. Yep, he was thin as a twig, with a body that looked like it might snap if the wind blew too hard. But his mind quickly shifted to his upcoming birthday plans—the new manga release he asked his parents for, the multiplayer game he’d been itching to finish with Geto and Shoko. Those thoughts made him forget, even if just for a moment, about his awkward looks and lack of bulk.

He rolled his eyes as he recalled Sayori’s antics. Sure, she loved poking fun at his “style,” but it wasn’t like he could hide who he was. He was a full-blown nerd, and no amount of fancy clothes or money was going to change that.

Satoru double-checked the lock (he had made it himself using scraps from Geto's parents mechanic shop), feeling a small sense of relief as he heard the click. It wasn’t that he hated the maids or the staff—they were usually polite enough—but he couldn't stand how they’d rearrange everything, trying to turn his room into some pristine display instead of the controlled chaos he preferred.

To anyone else, it might’ve looked like a mess: figurines lined up haphazardly across his shelves, manga volumes stacked in precarious towers, and a jumble of notebooks, controllers, and cables sprawled across his desk. But to him, every item had its place. His favorite games were within arm’s reach, his sketchbooks for drawing piled near the window for the best light, and his notes from school carefully wedged between books on his bed frame. It was a system no one else could understand, but it worked.

He took a final look back at his door, almost as if he could will it to stay locked even if he couldn’t be there to guard it. With a small sigh, he turned and started down the hall, steeling himself for the inevitable attention he’d get today.

Satoru descended the grand, spiraling staircase of the mansion, his fingers trailing along the cool marble railing. It was early, and the house was quiet save for the faint hum of voices echoing from the foyer. As he reached the bottom, he spotted them—two familiar figures standing awkwardly in the grand entryway, dwarfed by towering crystal vases and oversized paintings on the walls.

“Yo, birthday boy!” Shoko called out, offering a lopsided grin as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. She wore her usual black leather jacket and ripped jeans with some random punk band tanktop, looking relaxed despite the stuffy atmosphere of the mansion.

Beside her stood Geto, hands in his pockets, his expression cool but with the hint of a smile he usually reserved for special occasions. “Took you long enough. I thought you’d abandoned us for some high-society brunch,” he teased, his eyes twinkling.

Satoru couldn’t help but laugh. “As if I’d ever choose those people over you two. I’d rather deal with Sayori’s wake-up calls every morning.”

The three of them exchanged grins, and the comfort of their presence helped Satoru shake off the lingering weight of his family’s expectations. Unlike everyone else in his life, Shoko and Geto never cared about who his family was or how extravagant his home looked. They were here for him, and on his birthday, that meant more than anything else.

Shoko held up a paper bag. “I brought breakfast sandwiches. Figured you might not want to eat whatever rich people snobby shit they serve here.”

Satoru’s face lit up. “You’re a lifesaver. And you know me too well.” He snagged a sandwich from her bag, taking a huge bite as they made their way toward the front door.

“So,” Geto said, raising an eyebrow, “you ready for some serious button-mashing at the arcade? I’ve been practicing, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be taking down the ‘birthday champion’ today.”

Satoru smirked, his mouth full. “Good luck with that, buddy. You’ve never beaten me before, and I don’t plan to let you start today.”

They laughed together as they stepped outside, the morning sun warming their faces. Satoru glanced back at the towering mansion behind him, then back to his friends, who waited for him by the sleek black car his family had arranged for the day.

The arcade was alive with flashing lights and the constant hum of machines, its walls plastered with neon signs and colorful yet corny posters. The air was thick with the familiar clinking of tokens, the beep-beep of high scores being shattered, and the excited chatter of kids and teens alike. Satoru, Shoko, and Geto had been there for hours, fully immersed in the chaotic joy of the place.

They had already blown through several rounds of classics—racing games, fighting games, even a basketball shooter. Geto had tried his best to dethrone Satoru on every machine, but the birthday boy’s natural knack for gaming held strong. Each time, Geto threw his hands up in defeat while Satoru flashed his signature smug grin. Shoko, meanwhile, had spent most of the day lounging in one of the booths with a soda, only occasionally joining in to wipe the floor with them in games that required quick reflexes. It appeared that the young teenage girl was too cool to play with the boys but she still appeared to enjoy watching them play.

As the hours slipped by, they barely noticed the crowd thinning around them. The noise from the machines still pulsed, but it had quieted slightly, with only the diehard players sticking around until closing time. Satoru was at one of his favorite stations—an old-school zombie shooter game with plastic guns that rattled in your hands as you fired.

He stood poised, blasting away at wave after wave of the undead, completely in the zone. Shoko sidled up next to him, leaning casually against the machine, her eyes gleaming with an idea.

"You think you’re hot stuff, huh?" She said, watching as he took out another zombie with ease.

Satoru glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "Please, I’ve been beating this game since I've known how to pronounce the word "Gameboy". What are you getting at?"

Shoko smirked. "I’m saying let’s raise the stakes. One final round before we head out. You versus me, on the zombie shooter. Winner gets to make a bet."

Geto, munching on what was probably his fifth snack of the day, looked up with interest. "Now this I gotta see."

Satoru chuckled. "What kind of bet are we talking about?"

Shoko’s eyes glinted mischievously, as if she knew something that Satoru didn't. "If I win—which, let’s face it, I probably won’t—you have to sneak us into your parents’ lab. I’ve been dying to see what kind of tech they’re cooking up in there."

Satoru froze for a second, blinking at her as if she’d just suggested something insane. "You want me to break into my parents’ private research lab?" he asked incredulously.

Shoko shrugged, nonchalant as ever. "Yeah. What, scared I might actually win?"

Satoru narrowed his eyes, the competitive edge kicking in. "Fine. But when I win, you have to actually go with me to see Alien vs Spider-Ants III"

"Deal," Shoko said, grabbing the second gun controller from the holster.

They both positioned themselves in front of the screen, the machine lighting up with eerie green and red colors as the game counted down to start. Geto leaned on a nearby arcade machine, arms crossed, watching the showdown with a growing grin.

The game began, and for the first few rounds, Satoru dominated as expected, picking off zombies with perfect aim and precision. Shoko kept pace, but just barely, struggling to keep up with his rhythm. As the levels progressed and the zombies came faster, something shifted. Shoko’s aim became sharper, her reflexes quicker, and soon she was gunning down zombies with an accuracy that surprised both Satoru and Geto.

"Shoko, when did you get this good?" Satoru muttered, beads of sweat forming on his brow as the game threw its hardest challenges at them.

She didn’t answer, too focused on the screen, her face a picture of calm concentration. The crowd around them had thinned even more, but a few people gathered to watch the final showdown. The zombie boss loomed on the screen, huge and menacing, but Shoko remained unfazed.

It came down to the final seconds. Satoru’s score was high, but Shoko had caught up, and in a burst of perfect timing, she landed the final critical shot that sent the boss crashing to the ground.

The screen flashed: Player 2 Wins!

Satoru’s jaw dropped. Geto let out a low whistle, laughing. "Well, well, looks like you’ve been hustled, sweetheart."

Shoko stood there, grinning widely, her gun still in hand as she shot Satoru a triumphant look. "Guess it’s time for you to keep up your end of the deal, Gojo."

He shook his head in disbelief, but he couldn’t help smiling. "You seriously just pretended to not be good at this game so I could show you my parents' lab?"

"Looks like it," Shoko said, leaning the gun against the machine with a satisfied click. "Now, speaking of that lab..."

Satoru groaned, rubbing his temples. "You’re insane, you know that?"

"I know," she replied, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. "But come on, we’re not really gonna pass up an adventure, are we?"

The arcade buzzed softly around them, the flashing lights now dimming as closing time neared. The clock was ticking, and Satoru knew that tomorrow, or sometime soon, he’d be leading them on a whole different kind of game—one far more dangerous than any zombie shooter.. if he got caught that is.

Satoru couldn’t believe he was actually going through with this. The city lights of New Tokyo glowed around him as he led Shoko and Geto down a deserted alley that ran along the back of Gojo Enterprises’ research lab. The building was sleek and high-tech, its walls lined with reinforced glass and flashing security cameras, and the closer they got, the louder Satoru's heartbeat thudded in his chest.

They crouched near a loading dock, out of sight from the main entrance. The thrill of sneaking out in the dead of night was exhilarating, but the stakes felt entirely different now. He took a deep breath, trying to look calm even though his mind raced. After all, he’d convinced his parents' driver to drop them off by claiming they were going to a midnight movie—no one would suspect a thing until morning.

Shoko nudged him, a grin plastered on her face. “So, how are we getting in, Mr. Genius?”

Satoru pulled a small key card from the pocket of his baggy jeans. "Family card. They give one to all Gojo relatives for ‘emergency access,’" he said, quoting the excuse his parents had given when they handed it to him years ago. He’d never had a reason to use it—until now.

Geto raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been sitting on this secret card and never used it?”

“Didn’t exactly plan on breaking into my parents’ lab,” Satoru shot back, swiping the card on a hidden panel by the door. The scanner blinked green, and with a soft hiss, the heavy door slid open. “But let’s move fast. Cameras reset every five minutes, so we don’t have much time before they pick us up again.”

They slipped inside, careful to stay low and quiet as they made their way through a dimly lit corridor. The lab felt eerily empty, with the hum of machinery and faint, blinking lights from high-tech devices casting shadows across the walls. As they crept further into the building, they passed rows of glass cases displaying various prototypes—everything from sleek gadgets to high-tech robotics in the early stages of development.

Shoko’s eyes sparkled as she inspected the devices on display. “Wow, I had no idea they were working on stuff like this,” she whispered, leaning closer to get a look at a sleek, futuristic helmet inside one of the cases.

Geto chuckled softly. “Satoru, you’ve been holding out on us. This is some next-level tech.”

Satoru rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t hide a grin. “You think I know anything about this stuff? They don’t exactly invite me to company presentations.”

They reached the far end of the corridor, where a steel door loomed, marked with a glowing red Authorized Personnel Only sign. Satoru hesitated, glancing at Shoko and Geto, both of whom seemed unfazed.

"Well, here goes nothing," he muttered, swiping his card again. This time, the door opened into an expansive room filled with a dizzying array of tech—computer stations lined the walls, and strange devices blinked and whirred on metal tables. In the center of the room was a large glass chamber, towering over them with cables stretching to the ceiling and intricate wires weaving in and out of its frame.

"What… is this place?" Satoru whispered, his voice echoing slightly in the cavernous lab.

Shoko moved closer to the chamber, her curiosity overriding any fear. “Maybe… some kind of energy source? Or a containment unit?”

Geto joined her, nodding in agreement. “Looks like something out of a sci-fi movie. You sure your parents just work in tech?”

Satoru shrugged, suddenly feeling out of place in his own parents' world. “Beats me. They’re always secretive about what exactly goes on in here.”

They edged closer to the chamber, marveling at the sleek design and the strange, pulsing energy that seemed to radiate from within. Shoko reached a hand out to the glass, her eyes wide. “Think they’d notice if we touched—"

Before she could finish, a faint hum grew louder, and the chamber seemed to activate, the energy inside swirling in bright colors that almost hypnotized them. Alarms began to blare throughout the lab, red lights flashing along the walls.

Smoke poured into the room, thick and suffocating. Satoru coughed, his heart hammering as the reality of their situation sank in. He had known this was a risky plan, but he’d never expected things to spiral out of control like this. Alarms blared louder, echoing off the metal walls, and the sound of heavy footsteps told him that security guards were close—way too close.

Shoko’s eyes darted around the room, her face unusually serious. “Satoru, we need an exit, now!”

Geto was already tugging on his arm, but Satoru hesitated for one precious second, glancing back at the chamber they’d accidentally triggered. Whatever was inside it was still glowing, pulsating faster as if it were alive.

“Gojo, move!” Geto’s shout snapped him out of his thoughts.

He tore his gaze from the chamber and followed them through the smoke-filled lab, scanning the room for any possible way out. Just as he spotted a side exit, the security guards burst through the main entrance, their flashlights cutting through the smoke.

“Stop right there!” one of them yelled, reaching for his radio to call for backup.

Satoru bolted, adrenaline fueling him as they sprinted toward the side door. He could hear Shoko’s heavy breathing and Geto’s hurried footsteps right behind him. They reached the door just in time, slipping through and slamming it shut behind them. But they weren’t safe yet. A new alarm began to sound, signaling that the side exit had been breached, and they could hear the guards mobilizing to cut them off.

“This is bad—really bad,” Satoru muttered, his voice thick with fear. His parents would never forgive him if they found out he’d broken into their lab, especially after setting off all the alarms. And that’s if he was even lucky enough to make it out without getting caught.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Shoko said, her usual nonchalance now replaced by urgency. “Just focus on getting out of here!”

They rounded a corner, spotting a stairwell that led up to the rooftop. Without hesitation, they bolted up the steps, lungs burning as they climbed. Reaching the top, they burst out onto the rooftop, gulping in fresh air as they skidded to a halt. Below them, security lights swept across the alleyway, and they could hear more guards closing in.

“Look!” Geto pointed to an adjacent rooftop a short distance away.

Satoru’s stomach dropped at the sight, but with no other option, he nodded, steeling himself. “We jump on three.”

With synchronized breaths, they counted down, then ran full speed toward the edge, launching themselves into the air. Satoru’s heart skipped a beat as he flew over the gap, barely managing to land on his feet. Shoko and Geto landed beside him, all of them wobbling but standing.

As they darted toward the next stairwell, Satoru cast one last glance back at the lab, the pulsing glow of the chamber visible through the windows. He didn’t know what they had just unleashed—or what his parents would say when they found out—but he knew that after tonight, nothing would be the same.

Satoru barely had a moment to catch his breath, a triumphant grin just starting to form on his face when the sharp, searing pain shot through his hand. It felt as though fire had exploded beneath his skin, racing up his arm and spreading through his entire body in waves. His muscles locked up instantly, his limbs going rigid as he collapsed onto the rooftop, his vision blurring around the edges.

He tried to scream, but his mouth wouldn't move. He could only lie there, his mind whirling as he struggled to make sense of the pain.

"Satoru!" Shoko's voice cut through the haze, sharp and panicked. Her face swam into his vision, pale against the dark sky as she leaned over him, hands hovering helplessly. "Something bit him—a spider or...something, I don’t know!"

Geto knelt beside her, his own face stricken with worry. "Stay with us, man! Just breathe, slow breaths. You’re okay."

But Satoru was no way in hell okay; he got fucking bit by the damn predator it felt like. The pain was consuming, a hot, pulsing sensation that twisted and convulsed in his muscles. His vision swam, and his hearing faded, Shoko’s frantic voice becoming muffled as though he were underwater. He couldn’t even feel his limbs anymore, just the intense, searing agony and the terrifying sense that he was slipping away.

Focus, he tried to tell himself. Breathe.

But the harder he tried, the worse it got, until the world finally faded entirely, sinking into total blackness.

Satoru blinked, trying to shake off the lingering fog in his mind. The hospital room came into focus, sharp and clear—clearer than he could ever remember seeing, actually. His eyes darted around, adjusting to the sudden brightness that seemed to be assaulting his senses. Everything was so vivid, so intensely defined. His mind stuttered over the realization, then froze as he looked over at the nightstand and saw his glasses lying there, untouched.

He swallowed, the bitter taste in his mouth making him grimace. It was the kind of taste he associated with hospital medication, antiseptic and sharp, but it was nothing compared to the shock of realizing he could see perfectly fine without his glasses.

Satoru brought a shaky hand up to his face, feeling his bare skin where his frames usually rested. He stared at his fingers, noticing the faint prickling sensation running through his hand, where a painful, pulsing ache was subsiding. He clenched his hand experimentally, and to his surprise, the movement felt almost... unnatural. Powerful, even. But also slightly off, like he wasn’t entirely in control of his own strength.

His mind raced as he tried to make sense of everything. Just as he was about to sit up, the door creaked open, and a familiar face poked through—Shoko, eyes red-rimmed and worried, though she managed a weak grin when she saw he was awake.

"Satoru," she whispered, relief flooding her expression as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "You’re okay."

"Kind of feels like I got hit by a truck," he muttered, the sound of his own voice startling him with its newfound clarity. "But...I guess I’m fine." He hesitated, looking down at his bare hand, flexing it slowly. "Shoko, what happened? All I remember is that something bit me, and then… nothing."

Shoko glanced at the door, as if worried someone might overhear, then lowered her voice. "The doctors said it was some sort of spider bite. They were… surprised by how intense your reaction was. You were unconscious for almost a full day, Satoru. They were worried you’d need emergency care, but then you suddenly stabilized."

Satoru’s brow furrowed as he listened, the hospital room seeming to sharpen even further in his vision, every speck of dust, every crease in the bedsheets standing out. "A spider bite," he echoed, trying to wrap his head around it. He swallowed, feeling his heart rate start to quicken. "Shoko, this might sound weird, but... I don’t need my glasses."

She looked at him, momentarily confused. "What? Like... your vision’s better?"

"Perfect," he said, still half in disbelief. "Everything’s way sharper than before. And it’s not just my sight—it’s like my whole body feels different. Stronger, somehow."

Shoko’s eyes widened slightly as she watched him, the hints of worry creeping back into her expression. "Maybe… I don’t know. The doctors didn’t say anything about side effects from the bite. I figured you’d just need some meds and rest, but..." She bit her lip. "Maybe this is something else."

"Yeah, maybe," Satoru murmured, glancing down at his hand, flexing it again to see if he could detect any more changes. His hand was still tingling slightly, and for a second, he could swear he felt something coursing through him, like an electric hum simmering just under the surface.

He went quiet seeing how worried his friend had become over his current state and thought quickly to change the subject.

"So what did you tell my parents and did they find out?"

Shoko's gaze softened, and she looked away, scratching the back of her neck. "Well, I... I didn't really have to tell them much," she admitted, her voice dropping. "Your parents didn’t exactly come rushing to check on you."

Satoru nodded, the familiar sting settling in his chest. Of course they hadn’t shown up—not that he’d truly expected them to. They were probably too busy to be bothered with a minor "incident" like their only son lying unconscious in a hospital bed.

"But don’t worry," Shoko continued quickly, "Geto and I took care of everything. We told the doctors it was some freak accident at an arcade and that you didn't want to bother your family. Geto's great at talking to adults, so he handled most of it. I made sure the story didn’t get too detailed, just in case anyone decided to contact your parents."

Satoru managed a small smile, the weight lifting slightly. "You guys are lifesavers. I don’t even know how to thank you.”

Shoko grinned, folding her arms over her chest. “Yeah, well, I’m not missing my friend’s birthday just because he’s out cold in a hospital bed. Besides, that’s what friends are for, right?”

He relaxed a bit, letting himself enjoy the normalcy her words brought. "Still, sorry for dragging you both into this. I swear I’m done with ‘birthday dares’ for a while.”

“Oh, come on. Just means next year we’ll have to top it,” Shoko teased, the worry lifting from her face for the first time. “But no science labs this time. That’s my rule.”

Satoru chuckled, feeling that bittersweet blend of relief and exhaustion.

Satoru left the hospital the next morning, a strange mix of anticipation and uncertainty bubbling under his skin. Shoko and Geto stayed by his side, laughing and teasing him as he forged his parents signatures on the discharge papers and threw on his jacket. On the outside, everything seemed normal. But with each step out of the hospital and into the bustling streets of New Tokyo, Satoru couldn’t ignore the surreal sensations coursing through him.

As they walked, he noticed the colors around him seemed richer, more vivid. The sunlight was brighter than ever, and he could even make out the distant hum of traffic and the rhythmic beat of footsteps on the street in a way he’d never noticed before. Sounds that used to blend into the background now came alive with distinct clarity, like the street vendors calling out their deals or the faint clinking of coins in a cup. He found himself grinning, though he quickly covered it, hoping Shoko and Geto wouldn’t catch on.

Once he parted ways with his friends, Satoru ducked into an alley, eager to test out just how far these changes went. He glanced around, then focused on the nearest building, a three-story structure with narrow ledges and windowsills. He flexed his hands and felt that faint tingle from before, almost like his muscles were thrumming with energy, as though something deep within him was waiting to be unleashed.

With a burst of confidence, he reached up and grabbed the edge of the first window ledge. His hand seemed to stick to the surface, and he felt a strange ease as he hoisted himself up with barely any effort. Climbing felt natural, almost instinctual, as he scaled the building effortlessly, moving from ledge to ledge until he reached the top, breathing only slightly heavier than normal. He looked down, heart pounding with excitement as he realized just how far he'd come with barely a bead of sweat.

For the next few days, Satoru honed these strange abilities in secret. He found that he could leap several feet in the air, lifting his entire weight with ease, and his reflexes had sharpened to the point that he could catch a falling object before it hit the ground without even thinking about it. At home, he practiced in his room, keeping his movements swift and silent. But hiding his new powers became tricky when it came to everyday life.

He had to remind himself to walk at a normal pace, not to slam doors by accident, and to avoid overdoing it when reaching for things. More than once, he found himself gripping something—like a cup or a book—only to nearly crush it in his hands. He made a habit of wearing gloves in front of his family to keep them from noticing how sticky his grip seemed to be at times.

At school, he kept his distance, careful not to reveal just how fast he could dodge or how precise his aim had become. His classmates might have thought he was just focused on his studies, but in reality, he was constantly aware of every sound, every movement around him, his senses alive with newfound sharpness.

Yet, every time he looked in the mirror, Satoru felt a pang of disbelief. This new strength was thrilling, but the mystery of what exactly had happened to him—and what else might still change—kept him on edge. The spider bite had unlocked something inside him, something that seemed beyond his understanding, and for now, all he could do was keep it hidden and hope it wouldn’t get him into even more trouble.

"Yo, earth to Satoru! For fucksakes man, I've been calling you for about five minutes. You good?" Geto questioned his bestfriend, flicking the boy's head.

Satoru blinked seeming hyper aware of his surroundings once more, sitting at the lunch table with his friends.

"Shoko was explaining that she has free time to go see that aliens movie if you still wanna go... Hey, since when did you start wearing contacts?"

Satoru cleared his throat, forcing a grin as he adjusted his seat. "Oh, yeah—uh, thought I'd try the contacts thing. Glasses were getting annoying, you know?" He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling an uncomfortable warmth creep up as Geto and Shoko both kept their eyes on him.

Shoko arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she let it slide, taking a long sip of her milk tea. “Right. Well, if you’re done spacing out, are you still down for the movie tonight?”

“Of course!” Satoru said, maybe a little too enthusiastically. He winced, then shrugged, trying to play it off as nonchalance. “I mean, yeah, sounds good. I could use the distraction.”

Geto leaned back, crossing his arms and studying him thoughtfully. "Okay, but seriously, man, something’s different about you. You’re... taller? And last week you had those huge bags under your eyes, but now…” He squinted, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. “It’s like you’ve hit some weird puberty growth spurt overnight.”

Satoru forced another laugh, brushing off his friends' observations with a dismissive wave. "Maybe I just finally got a good night's sleep. Been hitting the books too hard, I guess.”

Shoko wasn’t buying it. She watched him closely, her gaze drifting from his eyes to his posture, noting the way he seemed more poised, almost... alert, like he was holding back some bound-up energy. She shook her head slightly but decided to hold her tongue, letting Geto do most of the interrogating.

“Alright, fine,” Geto finally relented, shrugging. “Guess puberty is just hitting you like a truck, or maybe all those spider bites actually boosted your immune system or something.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s the spider bites,” Satoru muttered, forcing himself to look casual as he took a bite of his food, trying not to think about how true those words were.

As they settled back into their usual banter, Satoru’s mind wandered again, this time with a strange sense of exhilaration. He couldn’t wait to test the limits of his newfound abilities later, though he knew he’d have to be careful around Shoko and Geto. They might not have figured out his secret yet, but one wrong move, and they’d be onto him in no time.

The theater was packed, buzzing with the energy of weekend crowds as Satoru met up with Geto and Shoko by the concession stand. They handed him a large soda and a bag of popcorn, and the three of them made their way to their seats, laughing and chatting about random nonsense as the previews rolled.

Settling in, Satoru tried to focus on the movie as it started, the eerie music and ominous landscapes immersing him in the story. But not long after the first scene, a strange sensation began to creep over him—a tingling sense of unease prickling the back of his neck. He shifted in his seat, glancing around the theater, but everyone was engrossed in the movie, their faces dimly lit by the flickering screen.

“Satoru, you good?” Geto whispered, catching his movement.

"Yeah," Satoru replied quickly, forcing a casual smile. "Just... bathroom break, I’ll be back." He slipped out of his seat and exited the theater, the sensation growing stronger with each step he took.

The hallway outside the theater was quiet, with only the faint sounds of distant movie scenes filtering through the walls. Satoru turned toward the restroom, hoping the walk would shake the feeling off. Just as he rounded a corner, however, he heard muffled voices. A quick glance confirmed it: near the vending machines at the far end of the hall, a young girl was cornered by three men, their postures aggressive, her expression one of fear.

His heartbeat quickened, and he took a step closer, instinctively straightening, his mind racing. One of the men looked up and noticed him, his mouth twisting into a sneer.

"Hey, kid," the guy called out, his voice low and menacing, "mind your own business unless you want trouble."

Satoru froze for a moment, considering his options. He clenched his fists, then forced himself to nod and back away, walking to the restroom as if he hadn’t seen anything. But the uneasy feeling gnawed at him, intensifying with every step. There was no way he could just ignore it, not after what he’d seen.

Then, his gaze landed on a rack of merchandise near the entrance—specifically, an alien mask sold as part of a popcorn tub set. An idea sparked, and before he knew it, he grabbed the mask, slipping it over his head as he moved back toward the hallway. He made sure to pull the hood of his jacket up over it, creating a makeshift disguise. Heart pounding, he squared his shoulders and strode back toward the vending machines.

The men were still there, laughing and murmuring threats to the girl, who looked like she was struggling to hold back tears.

"Hey," Satoru called out, his voice slightly muffled by the mask. His stance was calm, but his body thrummed with the same strange energy he’d been feeling all week. "Leave her alone."

The men turned, looking stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Look, it’s a freaking alien coming to save the day!” one of them sneered, stepping closer. “You better walk away now, or you’re gonna regret it.”

Satoru felt a surge of confidence, his senses heightened, and without another word, he lunged forward, his fist connecting with the guy’s stomach hard. A loud crunch was heard (okay Satoru definitely needed to learn how to pull his punches.) The man stumbled back, clutching his middle in shock coughing in agony, and the others gaped before snarling and moving toward him. But Satoru was ready.

He ducked a punch, easily sidestepping and sweeping the man’s leg out from under him, watching as he tumbled to the floor. The other grabbed his shoulder, but Satoru twisted, using his newfound strength to wrench free and land another hit square in the man’s jaw. The guy staggered back, dazed, and before they could regroup, Satoru shot the girl a quick nod.

“Run. Now,” he said, his voice steady.

The girl hesitated, then nodded gratefully and took off down the hall. The men were left disoriented, clutching their bruises as they glared at him.

“You freak!” one of them shouted, reaching out for Satoru again, but he dodged, throwing one final punch that sent the guy crashing against the candy stand. With his heart pounding and his muscles humming, Satoru straightened, watching as the men scrambled to their feet and bolted out of the hall.

"I'd put some ice on those ribs.. maybe see a doctor." He called out after them.

Satisfied, he adjusted the alien mask and slipped back into the theater, where Shoko and Geto were too immersed in the movie to notice his absence. He pulled off the mask, hiding it in his jacket with a quiet, exhilarated breath.

He'd never felt so alive.

As Satoru settled back into his seat, the adrenaline still coursing through him, he felt an odd mix of exhilaration and relief. The movie flickered on, but his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts about what just happened. He glanced at Shoko and Geto, who were completely engrossed in the film, unaware of the small battle he had just fought.

The eerie atmosphere of the movie now felt different to him; it was as if the tension on screen mirrored the heightened state he was in. He shifted in his seat, letting the popcorn bag settle in his lap as he tried to ground himself in the moment. But the feeling of empowerment lingered, nudging at the corners of his mind.

After a few moments, Geto turned to him, a bemused expression on his face. “What took you so long? Did you get lost in there or something?”

Satoru chuckled, brushing it off. “Yeah, just had a little trouble finding the restroom.” He grabbed a handful of popcorn, trying to focus on the movie and not the chaos he'd just left behind. But the image of the girl’s frightened face haunted him.

“Bet you’re glad to be back,” Shoko said, not looking away from the screen. “I heard the part where the spider-ant emerged from the woman's stomach—such a classic jump scare!”

“Totally,” Satoru replied, forcing enthusiasm into his tone. But inside, he was still replaying the confrontation in his head. He didn’t just intervene; he had fought back.

As the movie progressed, Satoru found himself occasionally glancing at the exit, half-expecting the men to return, though they were likely long gone. The thrill of standing up to them filled him with a strange sense of purpose.

“What are you thinking about?” Geto asked, noticing Satoru’s distracted demeanor.

“Just… the movie,” he said, forcing a grin. “It’s pretty intense.” He leaned back, trying to blend into the ambiance of the theater, but the incident weighed heavily on him.

Finally, as the credits began to roll, Satoru felt the energy of the theater shift. People started to stand and chatter, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to do more. He leaned over to Shoko and Geto.

“Hey, what if we check out that comic shop down the street after this? I heard they have some new releases,” he suggested, hoping to keep the momentum of their night going.

“Sounds good to me!” Shoko replied, stretching her arms. “I could use a new read.”

Geto shrugged. “Sure, why not? Just make sure you don’t get us into any trouble, alien boy.”

Satoru laughed, feeling lighter. “No promises.” As they made their way out of the theater, he took a deep breath, the cool air outside refreshing against his skin. Maybe tonight would be the start of something new for him—something more than just movies and popcorn.

Two Years Later…

At seventeen, Satoru Gojo stood tall, his once-scrawny frame now replaced with defined rippling muscles, the result of relentless training and countless nights spent honing his powers. His snowy white hair had grown out in unruly waves (he should probably cut it), which he made no effort to tame. His dimples—something he never knew he had until recently—now made every smirk dangerous, a fact that hadn’t gone unnoticed by his classmates, who were starting to call him "unreasonably good-looking." Adding to the change were the black stud earrings glinting on both ears, giving him an effortlessly cool edge.

He slid a pair of sleek, pitch-black circular shades onto his face, shielding his hypersensitive sapphire-blue eyes from the glaring sunlight that threatened to overwhelm his vision. His eyes, once a challenge to focus, had become razor-sharp weapons. He could spot movement from blocks away, read the most subtle shifts in a person’s body language, and detect danger long before it arrived. But with these new skills came the annoying side effect of photosensitivity—regular daylight now felt like staring into a floodlight, hence the constant use of his shades.

It wasn’t just his body that had evolved—his entire life had shifted. For the past two years, Satoru had been living a double life, one that required not only skill but secrecy. By day, he was just another high school student at a private academy, juggling exams, family expectations, and the occasional run-in with Shoko and Geto. But by night, he was someone else entirely: Spider-Man, the masked vigilante swinging through the streets of New Tokyo.

The Suit

His transformation into Spider-Man hadn’t been easy. It had taken months of trial and error, sneaking into restricted areas of Gojo Enterprise’s labs, using the tech his parents had locked behind biometric doors and firewalls. He’d spent countless nights disassembling prototypes, siphoning materials, and testing equipment in secret. With no one to guide him, everything was self-taught—a series of failed experiments, some of which nearly blew up in his face. But eventually, the pieces fell into place, and the suit he envisioned became reality.

The final product was a sleek, custom-designed suit with a unique color palette that felt entirely his own. The base was matte black, hugging his athletic frame like a second skin. Blue accents streaked down the sides of his arms and legs, giving the suit a dynamic, aerodynamic look. And over his chest and back was the unmistakable insignia of a spider, rendered in bright white, striking a perfect balance against the black background.

He’d integrated tech from Gojo Enterprise into the suit, scavenging from discarded prototypes and building his own systems. The gloves housed web shooters—miniature, pressurized devices capable of firing synthetic webs strong enough to hold a car. His boots were equipped with magnetic grips that allowed him to cling to any surface effortlessly, and the suit itself was lined with a lightweight polymer, providing enhanced durability without sacrificing mobility.

Inside the mask, he’d embedded sensors that worked like augmented reality displays, feeding him real-time data—heat signatures, environmental readings, and even surveillance feeds he’d hacked from public cameras. He didn’t just fight crime; he studied it, locked in on threats with laser focus, moving like a shadow through the streets.

A Double Life

Two years of living like this had given him more confidence than he ever thought possible. No longer was he the awkward, nerdy kid struggling to fit in. He was stronger, faster, smarter—and it showed. His parents barely noticed the difference, too preoccupied with their business ventures to pay attention to his personal life, but that was just as well. It made it easier to keep his secret. Despite his parents not noticing; his classmates certainly did. Especially the girls.

To his friends, he was still Satoru, the same cocky kid they’d grown up with—just with a bit more... swag (cringe) now. He still met up with Shoko and Geto regularly, playing it cool as if he wasn’t sneaking out at night to swing from rooftops and take down gangs, smugglers, and corrupt politicians. They had no idea about the Spider-Man persona he’d created, and he intended to keep it that way. For now.

But even with all the training, the fights, and the wins, he knew this life wasn’t just fun and games. New Tokyo was a city of shadows, with forces far more dangerous than petty thieves lurking in its corners. And if he wanted to survive, he had to keep evolving—both as Satoru Gojo and Spider-Man.

He stood on the edge of a high-rise building, the night wind tugging at his hood, the city sprawling beneath him in a sea of glowing lights. A subtle smirk played on his lips as he adjusted his mask, tucking the alien mask that had started it all into his belt as a lucky charm.

"Alright," he whispered to himself, the thrill of the hunt thrumming through his veins. "Maximum effort, I got a chem test to study for.. just a quick patrol."

With a flick of his wrist, he fired a webline, the familiar thwip sound bringing a rush of excitement. The line caught on a nearby skyscraper, and in one smooth motion, Satoru launched himself into the night, disappearing into the cityscape like a shadow with a purpose.

Author's note: AHHHH! I've been working on this piece for months and I've done everything in my power to make sure it was perfect! I really hope everyone likes it because I really have worked super hard to make this the best piece of fiction I've ever put out. I plan to make the full story over on Ao3 if this gets enough positive feedback. Yes, Y/n has not been mentioned yet but she is coming and will be present and center in the next installment. The first big baddie is also going to be in the next chapter as well. I also want to note that this story is going to be very angst heavy so prepare yourselves. My last words of the night are be kind to one another, drink water, and live laugh love Gojo Satoru!

[pazodetrasalba]

The Riemann Hypothesis

Dear Caroline:

I really enjoy your math tidbits (and remember you being described somewhere by an ex-professor of yours as 'very mathy'), and really lament you didn't post more on your blog, perhaps because its intended audience didn't include that many mathematicians.

A lot of people work under the assumption that intelligence is something static, and that clever people don't need to study and never make mistakes. I'd say the first aspect could be at least put to questioning (there is some variability in inborn intelligence, and I am pretty sure you have been blessed with a lot of it, but I'd still say that most humans under a presumed standard distribution of IQ would still be able to improve and manage impressive achievements by just clocking in more work and discipline and better study techniques), whereas the second and third are ludicrously absurd and mistaken (so much so they are not 'even wrong'). Clever people commit errors all the time, and even more so in a difficult field like math, but they also learn from them, and even manage to produce some self-deprecating humor, as shown here.

The Riemann Hypothesis is one of the greatest unsolved problems of mathematics, and I have doubts of it being solved in my lifetime. I have watched enough videos and read enough summaries of it in books (for example, in Ian Stewart's excellent Visions of Infinity: The Great Mathematical Problems) to have an idea of the problem -in fact, it is much easier to understand in its outline than other of the Millennium Problems, e.g. the Hodge conjecture or the Birch and Swinnerton-Dyer. I also have a couple of books exclusively dedicated to it (The Music of the Primes by Marcus du Sautoy, and Prime Obsession by John Derbyshire) waiting on the bookshelf for some free time of mine to engage with them.

Quote:

Some numbers have the special property that they cannot be expressed as the product of two smaller numbers, e.g., 2, 3, 5, 7, etc. Such numbers are called prime numbers, and they play an important role, both in pure mathematics and its applications. The distribution of such prime numbers among all natural numbers does not follow any regular pattern.  However, the German mathematician G.F.B. Riemann (1826 - 1866) observed that the frequency of prime numbers is very closely related to the behavior of an elaborate function

    ζ(s) = 1 + 1/2^s + 1/3^s + 1/4^s + ...

called the Riemann Zeta function. The Riemann hypothesis asserts that all interesting solutions of the equation

    ζ(s) = 0

lie on a certain vertical straight line.

This has been checked for the first 10,000,000,000,000 solutions. A proof that it is true for every interesting solution would shed light on many of the mysteries surrounding the distribution of prime numbers.

[laurent-ofvere]

Maya. That Damen bodyguard au pls

It didn’t seem as if the night was ever going to end.

“It’s funny,” Laurent was saying. “I’m usually the one seen as too stuck up to fuck.”

Damen focused on letting a lungful of air in. The pressure on his chest was a welcome distraction; he let it settle before breathing out.

“Is it your age?” he went on. He was circling the kitchen, peering into all of the bowls of fresh cut fruits that the chefs had been arranging before he’d dismissed them half an hour ago. He’d just walked in really, Damen not far behind. Laurent’s presence and his acerbic temperament was usually dismissal enough. “Are you nervous now that you’ve passed your prime?”

He wasn’t even looking at Damen as he spoke to him. He would lift a piece of honeydew, tilting it this way and that in inspection before mussing any one of his bitchy comments.

Damen remained where he was as he pressed his lips together. He needed to protect the Prince. He needed to have eyes on the Prince at all times. He did not need to play into the Prince’s childish fancies.

“It must be that.” Laurent was holding a blackberry by his mouth, letting it linger. His lips were just shy of a grin. “I know it can’t be me. I’ve seen how you look at me.”

Damen looked at him now. To the public eye, the second Prince of Vere was the image of pristine perfection. He was polished, well spoken, impeccably dressed. In private, behind closed palace doors where he was seen only by who he allowed - and Damen, who needed to always see him – he was the polar opposite. The signs of being raised spoiled and over privileged were obvious in the way he acted like he deserved everything. The signs of being overlooked as second born were just as obvious from the way he demanded attention from anyone but the King and Queen. That person was usually Damen.

In private, Laurent could dress how he wanted. It was occasionally in clothing a few sizes too big, obviously another man’s. It was often his own clothing, fitted properly and cut in a way that it was too easy to see the various marks blooming across his skin. His neck, the curve of his hip when his shirt raised, his chest. Blooms of red and purple, peaking out and freshly marking his fair skin. Damen would sometimes wonder if any of those marks were shaped like a handprint. He wondered what it would be like to leave one of those himself. He would then catch Laurent catching him, looking at him knowingly, and Damen would remind himself that he was not allowed to look away.

“Well?” Laurent ran the side of his thumb by his lip, stained with juice. His hip was on the counter. “Nothing to say? I know you’re not as quite as you act.”

Professionalism. This was his last chance.

“Perhaps you should put your attention elsewhere,” Damen cleared his throat. “Your Highness.”

Laurent smiled at him. “But I want it on you.” He spoke in a sugared tone. Damen had heard it more than once, always directed at him with large eyes and an insincere flutter of his lashes.

“And I think you like it too,” Laurent went on. He set the plate down, licking off another finger. “I think you like how much I think of you. You probably get off on it when you’re alone, wondering what I’m doing. It’s why you can’t look at me in the mornings.”

It was incredible how he could string together such long sentences, all double-edged and intentional, all while looking at him coyly and innocently. Damen tightened his fingers around the counter at his back. He thought of tightening them elsewhere.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Laurent said. He wasn’t too far from him now. The kitchen itself was massive, rooms flowing into one another. Damen thought they could fit a banquet in here if they wanted to, large enough to fit foreign politicians and stuffy, outdated monarchs. But for now, they were alone.

“Or,” Laurent said. “Convince me you don’t want me.”

The differentiation of their positions would mean nothing to Laurent. He would probably turn it around and use it as something else to unnerve Damen with. A part of him was already convinced that Laurent was thrilled by that sort of thing. When you were inexperienced and everything was new, power imbalances could be an exciting twist.

“You’re quite young,” Damen said instead. He could hear how he sounded; dangling just above a mousetrap  “Your affections would be better suited for someone your own age.”

“You can drop the distinctive talk,” Laurent said. He stood in front of Damen. “We both know you don’t care about that.”

Damen wondered if Laurent would reach out and touch him. He wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, he thought. It wasn’t explicitly sated in the job description, but shoving away the man who also happened to be your conniving, provoking Prince didn’t seem like such a gray area.

He still thought about it. Grabbing that finely boned wrist. Twisting it between his fingers. Holding it above Laurent’s head.

“I need this job,” Damen stated. Plainly.

Laurent gazed up him sweetly. “You wont be much use to me if you no longer have this job,” he said, slowly. “Now would you?”

Damen wanted to breathe in again. It would feel good. He knew that if he did, he would breathe Laurent in.

“How about,” Laurent said. “I guess what you like? I’m usually fairly good at that, and you’d be easy to read.” He looked ready to lean in, to press them together.

“Sometime simple at first, I’m sure.” He said it low, like it was conspiratorial between them. It was in his tone, in the way his eyes lit up. He touched his fingers to his own jaw, right against the smooth line where Damen was coarse. “On my back?”

“I want to fuck your mouth,” Damen said.

He watched as Laurent was stunned into silence. Those pretty lips parting lightly, then pressing together with a completely different flutter of his lashes. It was not something Damen had ever managed to do. He didn’t think anyone had ever managed to do that. It pushed him forward.

“See if that would finally shut you up,” he continued. Now that Damen said it he couldn’t help but think of it. There in the kitchen or in Laurent’s chambers, away from prying eyes and surrounded by the colors that Damen had seen on a glimpse. He had thick, plush carpets that would feel soft against the skin, it would help cushion his knees as he knelt at Damen’s feet. He’d look beautiful like that, watery eyes and wet lips, stretched around him. It would be filthy. Damen wanted to curl a fist in his hair now, push Laurent down on the floor and make him get Damen hard with his mouth.

“I could fuck you for hours,” Damen said, taking his own daring step forward . He wanted to move until it was him who was finally pinning Laurent in place, confusing him until he didn’t know which way was up. “However I wanted. I wouldn’t let you have any control.”

He wondered if Laurent would like that. He looked like he would, now. He looked at Damen like he was seconds away from unraveling, like he wanted to take Damen with him. His eyes were hazy; it was intoxicating to see.

“I think it would be good for you,” Damen said. He touched a knuckle to Laurent’s cheek because he was insane, because he’d been pushed to his limit and he just didn’t care anymore. “For someone so uptight to not be in charge. I think you want to loose control.”

“Do you,” Laurent said. You could only detect the difference in his voice if you knew him, if you were around him as much as Damen was. Every day, morning to night, at his back. Following him, watching him.

“I could make you desperate for it,” Damen told him. He wanted that, desperately. He wanted to see Laurent rolled over by Damen because he was too sensitized to do it himself, his cock hard and aching for release. Or covered in his own cum, Damen’s leaking out from between his bitten thighs, begging for reprieve. “See how good you can be when you want to come.”

Laurent had to look up to meet Damen’s eye. His cheeks were pink; they would be warm to the touch. He would look like that underneath Damen. He would take his cock so well, Damen knew he would. He would grip his shoulders and take it hard; Damen would fuck him until he begged that it was too much. Then Damen would flip him over and do it again, show him just what a needy brat like him deserved.

“I think,” Laurent said, after a pause. “That you overrate yourself.”

“I think,” Damen said. “That you’ve never been with a real man before.”

The kitchen was silent again. Damen wondered if the chefs were waiting right outside, eager and anxious to get back to work. He wondered if his job was dangling by a thread. Laurent was looking at him, looking, saying nothing more as the seconds ticked by. Damen didn’t move.

In the silence, hands on Damen’s belt buckle were loud.

[ddarker-dreams]

How do all the other stands feel ab sr? I’m sure they all somewhat get along, right?

i’ve been wanting to give a longer, traditional hc style post about this!! since you’ve asked it’s the perfect opportunity to express my thoughts on it. it’s more of a combination of SR with the user and their stand, i hope that’s okay hjrktme

Bruno Bucciarati;

Sticky Fingers is the first Stand from Bucciarati’s group that you got to see! So there’s a special place in your heart for it. By extension, Bruno was the first person to see Scarlet Ribbons. SR was very inquisitive during their initial meeting, since it’s the first time she ever saw a Stand other than herself. She was looking around a lot, and lowkey wondering where are this things bows at?? 

Though Stand powers wildly vary from one another, Bruno was able to give you a general explanation of what to expect from SR. He didn’t want to go too overboard with advice because he feels a natural fighting style stemming from your own abilities/instinct is best, especially since your Stand is created from your soul. He basically just told you to go with your gut, which at the time felt a bit frustrating... it turned out to be good advice though! 

Sticky Fingers and SR have almost opposite abilities in a way? SR can close up gaps whereas Sticky Fingers opens them up. It’s not uncommon that when you and Bruno are chatting, that your respective Stands are just kinda messing around in the distance. Sticky Fingers likes making zippers in walls, and SR tries to see if she can close them with ribbons... it doesn’t work like that, but it’s kinda endearing to see them interact with one another lmao.

Giorno Giovanna;

It’s gonna be super cute okay. Giorno in general might give the impression of knowing what he’s doing when it comes to romance, but he really is just winging it and kinda going ??? the entire time. Meanwhile, Gold Experience is going ham with SR, pulling all the stops to impress her (and you, by extension). His Stand makes flowers of a striking red color, trying to match the shade of SR’s ribbons!! Mostly poppies, tulips, and occasionally roses. 

Giorno is kinda curious how SR seems to be out a lot of the time, he’s thinking should I do the same thing with GE...? You’ll be doing exercises, and SR is there bringing a water bottle over to you. Or when you’re cooking, SR is hovering over your shoulder wanting to help out as well. She’s just almost always around, even if only in the background to explore her surroundings. It makes Giorno let GE out more often, subconsciously. 

He does ask you about it once, and you just kinda shrug and say SR likes the freedom to do as she pleases. Since she isn’t rambunctious like Pistols, you don’t see the harm in letting her roam around.  

Gold Experience wants to try making ribbons, but the best it can do is creating ribbon eels. It’s not quite the same, but it’s a solid effort. Giorno just has to stop GE from putting the ribbon eel on his head in the same way SR has a ribbon on hers. Mista was around to witness this historical event, and no, he does not intend on letting Giorno live it down. Giorno’s grateful he stopped it from actually happening though. 

Guido Mista;

Let’s just say your Stands together can be pretty chaotic. The first time you met Mista, and he realized you were a Stand user like himself, he had a very pressing question. When you showed him SR, he looked at it for a moment, as if in deep thought. 

“D-does... yours talk too?” 

Mista passed Polpo’s test only to be gifted talented, albeit troublesome little gremlins. Before he realized giving Pistols food is a reliable method of calming them down, it was a war zone. One of the mornings where the two of you had to do some standard protection fee collection, he looked like a borderline zombie. Lamenting that the Pistols refused to let him sleep, and asked if you’d please use SR to cover their mouths lmao. They were protesting the entire time, trying to convince you not to do it.

When Number Five starts crying, SR makes a little ribbon to put on his head!! It’s super cute and Mista’s heart is just leaping in his chest. Then, of course, all the other Pistols want one bc equal attention!! When the two of you aren’t paying solid attention to your Stands, you’ll sometimes spot SR testing how many accessories she can fit on the tiny Pistols. It isn’t a lot but they’re insistent on trying. 

Pistols are always trying to get SR to do crazy stunts for their entertainment. Eventually, you had to lock your refrigerator with her ribbons to prevent the Pistols from stealing your food. But when you’re busy, the Pistols keep trying to convince SR to undo them so they can snack. She actually felt bad for them once, released the restriction, and the Pistols went to town on your leftovers. : (

Mista felt pity for you though and offered to take you out to get more food!! So it all worked out for his benefit in the end. The Pistols do not take issue in reminding him of this as well, saying that they’re the reason he got to go on a date with you. :’ )

Pannacotta Fugo;

He remained fiercely adamant on keeping Purple Haze from you for the longest time. Fugo hates how his Stand practically comes out of its own autonomy whenever you’re in the vicinity, wanting to get a closer look at you. There have been a lot of close calls when you first got to know when another, leading to Fugo abruptly leaving in conversations. 

Your Stands get along well once Fugo feels comfortable enough to let Purple Haze out around you. Since SR is a long ranged Stand, she can do her cute ribbon tricks from a distance outside of the virus’ range!! Though she has a habit of trying to get closer, just out of curiosity. Fugo gets freaked out when this happens though, so she waits until he’s distracted with talking to you (a little genius)! 

Purple Haze makes the biggest puppy dog eyes at SR, which humiliates Fugo to no end. He gives his Stand intense talks when you’re not around, telling him to keep it cool, he doesn’t want you thinking he’s an idiot. But as soon as he even mentions SR, Purple Haze gets all thrilled and is like !!! So it’s ultimately counterproductive. Fugo just hopes you don’t put two and two together, over why his soul likes yours so much. It’s his daily prayer...

Fugo has an embarrassing habit of doodling ribbons on stuff he’s working on, when he starts zoning out. When he realizes what it is he’s doing he gets flustered about it, cursing underneath his breath and hoping that you don’t happen to come by and notice. Unfortunately for him, as SR likes to see what everyone is up to, she came over and saw what he was doing. After putting two and two together, she gave him a nod and a thumbs up on his doodles. Didn’t snitch to you though, so the two of them have a mutual understanding. :’)

Narancia Ghirga;

He wants so badly to impress you with Aerosmith. Narancia will whip his Stand out in your presence at any given opportunity, having it do a few flips and tricks more than necessary. Then he stares over to see what you and SR think about it... she once clapped in Aerosmith’s honor. It was all Narancia could think about for the rest of the day. 

The two Stands typically just play around with one another. Aerosmith likes to make little ribbon shaped clouds, and SR attempts making a plane shape out of her ribbons. It’s not quite the same, but she’s trying!! Narancia finds it adorable, and tries to make requests of shapes and stuff for her to make. SR does her best to fulfill the requests, concentrating hard on the task!!

Since SR enjoys making hair accessories, she’s tried to make a bandanna similar to Narancia’s for you. Though she ultimately scrapped the idea, giving you a disapproving look and fastening it back into the normal bow it normally is lmao. When you mentioned this behavior to Narancia he was like wait, what?? Lemme see! But if SR doesn’t find something fashionable, she doesn’t have any intention on doing it again. So he’s outta luck...

It doesn’t stop him from asking about it. He just can’t believe that your Stand thought about him when he wasn’t around!! It touched him in a way he never knew possible. It’s also a bit of a relief since you’re often the subject of his thoughts. 

Leone Abbacchio;

Similar in a sense to Fugo, where he didn’t want Moody Blues around you that much at first. He takes a much more serious approach to his Stand than others, since it’s deeply rooted in his past trauma. It’d actually be one of the few moments he might snap at you, should you ask to see his Stand one too many times. Not out of malicious intent, he’s just... very disillusioned with Moody Blues at first.

You two had a job which required some investigative work, the client having seemingly disappeared with some goods that belonged to Passione. Figuring out what happened with the merchandise was essentially child’s play for Moody Blues, a replay showing the full extent of the events. Abbacchio wasn’t keen on showing you his Stand, but it couldn’t be helped any longer.

Unlike the others who tended to pester him on the extent of Moody Blues’ abilities, you just complimented him. Saying that it’s similar in utility to your Stand. You willingly comparing yourself to him, and in a positive light nonetheless, kinda had him at a loss for words. 

He didn’t really offer a strong rebuttal like he normally would, so you assumed he didn’t think much of your comment. Which, of course, couldn’t be further from the truth. If you could see good in him of all people, then well... there was a lot for him to think about that night.

After this incident, he’s noticeably just a tad kinder to you in general. What you said meant a lot to him. Obviously not enough to make all his self deprecation go away overnight, but it just gave a small glimmer of hope. That maybe he can someday be better.

Trish Una;

Another person that I picture SR being especially adorable with!! After the events of Bruno betraying the boss, you and SR would be feeling hurt on Trish’s behalf. You instantly draw the parallels of living a carefree life, only for Passione/gangsters to come in and essentially ruin everything.

While dealing with the pain of rejection from her father figure, Trish also wonders if you consider her less important. Since your original job was to protect her, due to being the boss’ daughter, wouldn’t it make sense you don’t care about her now that it’s no longer your job to?

SR covers the spot where her hand was severed with a bow, even after Giorno properly heals it. Trish just looks at you confused, and you explain it’s your Stand’s way of wanting to help her feel better. That where her father had inflicted pain, Trish has the support and strength from you and herself to overcome it. 

Needless to say, Trish thinks highly over you, the feeling extending over to Spice Girl. During your meetups after everything is over, Spice Girl and Scarlet Ribbons come out and embrace one another!! Well, it’s more like SR goes for the hug, and Spice Girl is just :’) woah affection. Trish finds it a little embarrassing at first, but secretly loves and it and looks forward to it. Though she does wish Spice Girl was a tad more discreet. 

During Trish’s travels for her singing career, if there’s anything that even vaguely reminds her/Spice Girl of you, she snaps a photo to text to you. It’s mostly red hair accessories and clothing, which she of course purchases. Spice Girl misses SR a lot, so expect to receive a lot of texts asking how you and your Stand are doing. 

When Scarlet Ribbon spots Trish’s name popping up on your phone, she immediately brings it over. The Stand impatiently shoves your phone in your face, as if to say respond now!! It’s Trish, it’s important!! Scarlet Ribbons loves her a lot 🥺 especially since Trish sends her accessories...

[buckstaposition]

La Bañadera

inspired by this brilliant idea by the brilliant and wonderful @opheliaelysia so Jess, this is for you 🥰

Javier Peña x reader oneshot

summary: Javi comes home from work stressed and exhausted, so you run him a bath to help him relax

tags/warnings: intimacy, softness, non-sexual nudity, a wee bit of suggestive flirting/banter because it’s Javi, kisses

words: 1473

La Bañadera

You attribute it to the fact that you’ve gotten to know each other better than either of you intended. Because whatever this thing between the two of you is, it means you can hear from the sound of his voice how beat he is. And it means he knew you’d be at his place, thanks to the spare key he’d slipped into your hand a while back ‘just in case’. And it means he’d thought to call, to warn you that he’d be late tonight – ‘half an hour tops’ – really not so long as to be cause for concern in his job, but he’s been brought up right and he’s thoughtful when it counts.

‘Don’t worry about it’ you’d said into the pause of his earnest contrition, a plan already forming in your mind.

The sun is bathing the horizon in deep pinks and purples when the door clicks open. You shut off the tap and rise, peeking your head out of the bathroom with a soft smile. Javi looks even worse than he sounded, shoulders tense and still walking with the slightest limp after the foot chase after Franklin Jurado. ‘I think I might bet getting too old for this’ he’d said after he’d come back from that, trying to conceal the pain as always. You’d spotted it though. You feel like something has aligned your perception and narrowed it to all things concerning Javier Peña.

“Hey.” His voice is just a tired rasp at this point. He sways, but his lips still search for yours when you step close to push the suit jacket from his sloping shoulders. “Sorry about dinner.”

You shush him with a quick peck, wave away those petty concerns as you undo the tie that he hates having to wear. The first button of his shirt is already undone; it always is. He toes off his shoes at the same time you pull the tie out from his shirt collar and sags against you, just the slightest bit. Cups your cheek, the tips of his long fingers curling almost around the back of your neck. Smiling still, you turn your head to kiss his palm, his fluttering pulse thrumming under his wrist.

“Come,” you say simply and lead him back to the bathroom. It’s not especially nice or spacious, but there is a tub and you’ve tried to set the mood with some candles and soft music. The tub sits there, steaming and expectant under its blanket of bubbles.

He huffs out a small burst of a laugh, raising his brows at you. “I didn’t forget something, did I? Anniversary or birthday or-“

“You’d forget your own birthday, you big oaf.” You scold him gently as you push him to sit on the closed toilet lid. He’s swaying so much with exhaustion he probably doesn’t even notice it anymore. You start with the buttons on his shirt sleeves, small and fiddly. “It’s nothing special but you need a break. To relax a bit, even just for a night, okay?”

He hums. Lets himself be handled like a ragdoll as you undress him. His eyes fall closed – another testament to his exhaustion.

“Smells nice.” His voice is so quiet now you barely catch it over the rustling of clothes and the soft crooning of the stereo. “Lavender?”

“It’s the bubble bath you gave me for my birthday.” You explain softly. Yes, he’d forget his own birthday, but not yours. And it’s not like you two have anything like an anniversary. For that to be the case you’d have to admit that there was something between you, would have to put a name on this fragile, intangible thing you have.

“Get in, I’ll be right back.” He pouts a bit but obliges you. Gathers his long limbs and climbs into the tub with minimal sloshing. When you come back, stool in hand, he’s sitting in the water, his back a tense sloping curve. It’s then that you abandon your original plan and take off your sleep shorts. Contemplate for a moment before the tank top joins them. Javi cracks open one eye, never too tired to appreciate the sight of you in nothing but your underwear.

“Oh, you joining me?” He winks, tongue swiping over his bottom lip absent-mindedly. Any other time you’d be more than happy to indulge, but tonight is about him alone. You roll your eyes playfully.

“Scoot.” You order, swinging one leg over the edge of the tub. He obliges you, always obliges you. You climb onto the ledge at the head end of the tub that’s only just wide enough for you to sit, squished to the wall and keeping your legs wide enough that he can comfortably fit his broad shoulders between them. He catches your hand, kisses the knuckles as he leans back, letting his head pillow on your thigh. The tub is too small and his knees poke out, or his feet, but you make do. The water is hot and already you can feel him melt into it, muscles loosening up. You help the process along by digging your thumbs into the rigid muscle at the base of his neck, making you both groan from how hard you have to press to have any effect.

“Fucking hell Javi, when did you last relax?” You’re starting to feel it in your arms now, how you have to work at kneading away his tensions and stresses. Still, you do it gladly knowing you’re doing something good for him. Your hands fan out the whole width of his coiled shoulders that bear so much.

“Uuh… 1986 I think.” He mumbles, eyes closed and one large hand wrapped around your ankle under the water, rubbing gentle circles into your skin.

You sigh. His self-deprecation is a topic for another day, and it punches you out of left field suddenly, just how much you care about him. His well-being. His happiness. It punches the air right out of you with its sudden clarity. Unaware, he tilts his head to press a lazy kiss to your knee, and all you can do is focus on the way the water droplets pearl across his collar bones, collect in the hollow of his throat.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

“And you’re not supposed to be thinking at all.” You chide him gently. “Could you hand me those?” You gesture at the pitcher and shampoo bottle you’d prepared beforehand and placed for when you’d planned to sit on the stool beside the tub. From your current position you can’t reach them without some wild contortions, but Javi swipes them up easily, handing the items to you.

You cup the back of his neck, encouraging him to lean back, then dip the plastic pitcher in the warm water. He sighs when you let it run over his hair, body sagging just that final bit further into the bath. You take your time thoroughly wetting his dark curls, then lathering the shampoo through them. Let your nails scratch lightly, especially at that spot right behind his ear that makes him purr like some big tomcat in the perfect spot of afternoon sunlight. He’s gone almost completely boneless now, just floating in the slowly cooling water. Even the slow caress of your ankle has ceased, though he still holds it ever so lightly. He’s so handsome, his striking profile in the golden glow of the candles, that permanent pinch between his brows finally dissipated. If not for the way his mouth curves up in the tiniest of content smiles you’d think he had fallen asleep. You think it might be close to that. You lean down, press a kiss to his brow, to his cheek, then the other, the tip of his nose, and finally his lips, not caring that shampoo gets on your chest. That’s why you’d taken your top off, after all.

“Almost done.” You murmur, and Javi gives only the softest hum in acknowledgement. Gently, you rinse the shampoo from his hair, taking care to massage through the strands until it’s all out. He’s completely pliant in your hands, trusting to a fault, but you’d never betray that. It’s hard earned and you only want good things for him.

“Come on now.” You reach for the fluffy towels you’d set aside earlier, only half-unintentionally tickling his side with your toes as you do. He jumps a bit, pinning your leg to his side with one long arm on instinct.

“Oh, you’re trouble.” Now he’s got both your legs in his grip and a dangerous glint in his half-lidded eyes. Just one tug and you’d be down in the water yourself.

“Don’t you dare.” You dangle the smaller of the towels in front of him. “Why don’t you dry off and I’ll show you just how much trouble I can be.”

---

taglist:  @thewayofthemandalorian @opheliaelysia @cinewhore @heatherbel 

@agirllovespancakes @pascalisthepunkest @aasimarr @knittingqueen13​ 

@thirstworldproblemss​

[aswithasunbeam]

Rated: General Audiences

Summary: After seeing Hamilton struggle to get his financial plan through Congress while Washington was ill with pneumonia, Washington forms a plan. AKA The infamous fishing trip

_

June 1790

“Perhaps we should consider going without Mr. Hamilton?” Jefferson suggested. “I’d hate to miss much more of this fine spring day if he’s found himself otherwise occupied.”

Washington turned, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the brilliant sunshine reflecting off the water. “He’ll be along.”

Jefferson sighed and gave his pocket watch a significant look.

“Huzzah!” a man shouted, hanging out the window of a passing carriage and waving his hat in Washington’s direction. “Long live Washington!”

Washington nodded in acknowledgement, as he had to all the other passersby who’d cheered his return to the land of the living. He returned his attention to the street beyond, clearing his throat roughly. His chest still ached with the remnants of the pneumonia that had laid him low for the past month. Even the short stroll from the carriage to the dock had left him winded. The warm sunshine and fresh sea air were doing him good, though; he could feel strength returning to his limbs as he balanced his weight, watching for Hamilton’s arrival.

When he’d first considered a fishing trip to get some quality outdoor time without overly exerting himself, he’d issued an invitation first to Philip Schuyler. A calm, pleasant sail with an old friend had seemed just the thing to get him back on his feet. Schuyler had smiled, but after considering a long moment, recommended, “My dear son-in-law could better use a day away from the press of business, I think. Might he come along?”  

Indeed, when Hamilton had arrived for a visit, he’d looked exhausted, dark rings around his eyes and an unusual stoop to his shoulders. With no precedent to govern to whom the President’s duties fell when he was too ill to carry out his duties, the brunt of the daily functions of the executive had fallen to Hamilton. On top of that, Hamilton had been campaigning day and night for passage of his credit plan. All in all, the boy had looked worse than Washington; and, considering that two of his three physicians had opined that Washington wouldn’t live out the month, that was saying something.

“I don’t understand how Congress can be so stubborn and willfully ignorant,” Hamilton had complained when he’d settled into the chair beside Washington, swigging down a shot of brandy and shuddering slightly at the resulting burn. “Rebuilding American credit requires we have American credit, not fourteen separate debts all leveraged to varying degrees of dizzying excess. Why don’t they understand that?”

“Voting for the federal government to assume all the states’ debts won’t be popular in the southern states that have already paid down their own.”

“One state’s credit means nothing if the others are teetering on bankruptcy.”

Washington had refilled Hamilton’s drink and held up a placating hand. “I know that. And so does Mr. Madison. But that doesn’t stop him being beholden to his constituents.”

“He shouldn’t be beholden to their wrong-headed opinions. He should be leading them, helping them understand why this is the correct course of action. Otherwise, what even is the point of electing leaders to develop specialized knowledge of these subjects? Why don’t we just descend into anarchy now and be done with it!”

“It’s not so bad as all that,” he’d said.

Hamilton had slumped in his chair, defeat dragging down his shoulders and hollowing his eyes. “I’m going to lose the vote. I don’t know what else to do.”

The pang in Washington’s chest at the sight had little to do with his illness. He’d leaned forward to squeeze Hamilton’s shoulder once, consolingly. “We’ll figure something out.”

He’d been gratified to see that a little flicker of hope had sparked in Hamilton’s face at the assurance.

The plan had unfolded from there.

A hired coach pulled to a stop at the entrance to the docks, the passenger door opening almost before the horses had fully halted.

“Here he is now,” Washington said, catching a glimpse of the green silk coat Hamilton favored in warm weather.

Jefferson muttered under his breath, “Finally.”

“My apologies,” Hamilton called as he rushed down the dock. “I had a meeting with some Congressmen this morning, and it ran a bit longer than I’d intended.”

“Was it productive?” Washington inquired.

“What?” Hamilton asked, slowing his pace as he approached, winded and not a little flustered.

“The meeting?” Washington clarified.

“Oh. No.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to clap Hamilton on the back.

He saw surprise play across Hamilton’s features as he noted Jefferson’s presence behind him. A charming smile quickly took its place, though, and Hamilton bowed genially. “Mr. Jefferson, I didn’t know you’d be joining us.”

“I was happy to answer the President’s invitation. I’ve always quite enjoying fishing. And I couldn’t turn down a chance to enjoy the water one such a fine day.”

“I confess I’m rather a hopeless fisherman,” Hamilton said, stepping over the side of the fishing boat with care. “But the weather certainly is fine.”

With the three of them boarded, the boat was unmoored and slowly made its way out to sea. Washington stood beside Hamilton, studying his bruised eyelids with a frown. “You know, I had rather hoped that you had slept in this morning.”

Hamilton gave an amused chuckle. “Alas, no, sir. My habit of sleeping late into the morning was long since drilled out of me.”

“A pity,” Washington replied sincerely; he looked like he could have used a good lie in.

“You think so? It was mostly your doing.”

“Mine?”

“Or Harrison’s doing at your behest.” Washington smiled at the memory as Hamilton turned to Jefferson, attempting to include him in the joke. “Colonel Harrison enjoyed ripping me out of my cot by the ankle whenever the opportunity presented itself. I woke to my rump hitting the floor many a morning. I had terrible bruises the first several months of my work as the General’s aide.”

“Really? I would have imagined rising punctually was an important part of being on his Excellency’s staff,” Jefferson said mildly, folding himself into a seat by the rail.

“Oh, Hamilton never had a problem waking punctually. He just enjoyed making Colonel Harrison’s life difficult. McHenry, too, for that matter. I heard an abundance of fake snoring coming from the aide’s quarters of a morning in those years.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Hamilton replied, grinning from ear to ear. Washington could see a hint of melancholy behind his eyes, though, Harrison’s recent passing rendering the memories bittersweet.

Expression softening, Hamilton continued, “And even had you not forced me to be an early riser, my children certainly would have managed. Three of them were awake at four this morning, practically bouncing off the ceiling with energy. It’s hard to sleep with three little demons jumping on the bed.”

Washington chuckled. “Washy has a penchant for waking his grandmother in a similar fashion.”

“I suppose you no longer need to worry about that, Mr. Jefferson,” Hamilton said. “I envy you your grown children.”

“No, indeed. At least, not until the grandchildren arrive. You know my Patsy was just married?”

The trip was off to a better start than Washington had initially imagined. Of course, Hamilton had always had an easy way about him when politics weren’t involved; he was charming, with a sunny disposition that made him hard to dislike in person. He tipped his head back, soaking in the sun as the conversation rolled over him, Hamilton doing most of the heavy lifting.

“Should we prepare the fishing poles?” Jefferson asked eventually. “We should be nearing Sandy Hook soon.”

“I’ll defer to your good judgment, Mr. Jefferson,” Hamilton said, standing up presumably to fetch the poles. The boat rocked on a wave as he stood, and he reached out hurriedly to brace himself on the rail.

“Are you all right?” Washington asked.

“Fine,” he said, still holding the rail as he moved forward. “I’m not overly fond of boats.”

As Hamilton disappeared below deck, Jefferson asked, “We’re not disturbing you too much, I hope, Mr. President? I know you’re still trying to rest and recover.” His eyes flickered towards Hamilton’s path as he spoke, making clear that by “we” he’d meant “Hamilton.”

“Not at all. I enjoy Mr. Hamilton’s conversation.”

“He’s very charming,” Jefferson agreed. “I can see why Mrs. Church spoke of him so agreeably. I certainly don’t have to worry about carrying the conversation.”

“No. That’s rarely a concern when Alex is involved.”

“Talking about me?” Hamilton called, making his way back to them with three tackle boxes balanced precariously in his hands.

“Mr. Jefferson was remarking that you’re a very good conversationalist,” Washington said.

“You mean I talk too much.” Before Jefferson could interject with an assurance to the contrary, Hamilton gave a self-deprecating smile. “Sorry. Old habit. Tends to happen when I’ve too much on my mind. Feel free to tell me to be quiet.”

“I didn’t mean that at all,” Jefferson said, though Washington felt confident that Hamilton had cut straight through to the heart of Jefferson’s complaint.  

“Well, the offer stands.”

As Washington accepted his tackle box with a nod of thanks, he suggested, “Why don’t you share with Mr. Jefferson what’s been weighing on your mind these past weeks?”

“Oh, I’m sure Mr. Jefferson doesn’t want to hear me blathering on about assumption,” Hamilton demurred.

Jefferson shifted as he assembled his own pole. “In fact, I feel a little at a loss on the matter. Having only just taken up my position, it seems I’ve missed some of the finer points of the debate. It would be enlightening to hear your thoughts on the topic, Mr. Hamilton.”

Washington didn’t doubt for a moment that Jefferson was up to speed on every point of the debate; the capital had been abuzz with talk of little else since his return. A good strategy, though, to claim ignorance of the matter. It meant Hamilton would talk and Jefferson wouldn’t be required to supply his own point of view.

“If you insist, sir. But remember you’ve brought it on yourself,” Hamilton teased.

They were floating idly by Sandy Hook when Jefferson said, “The assumption of the all the war debt would surely be a staggering sum. How long, in your estimation, would it take for the government to pay it all back?”

“That’s rather beside the point.”

Jefferson blinked. “Beside the point?”

“Yes. We need to show other countries that we can use credit responsibly. We’ll need to increase the efficiency of our revenue collection to ensure timely payments, of course, but the goal is not to discharge the debt.”

“How can that be?”

“To show creditors one is responsible, one must use credit responsibly. That means continuing to borrow and make payments. Its basic finance.”

Jefferson’s lips had thinned into a long, displeased line. “You say you’re going to increase the efficiency of our revenue collection. How?”

“Building new lighthouses, refurbishing those already in existence, establishing a coast guard,” Hamilton ticked each item on his fingers as he spoke, his fishing pole having long since been set down on the deck of the boat so that he could speak with his hands. “We need to ensure smugglers are stopped, and good trading partners can get to port safely.”

“And this will be enough to discharge…I’m sorry, pay down the debt?”

“That, and some minor tax increases.”

“Tax increases.”

“Yes.”

“Did we not just fight a war against tax increases?”

“That wasn’t why we fought a war.”

“Funny. I remember it being quite a heated topic of conversation.”

“We fought a war because those tax increases were being forced upon us by Parliament, a body to which we as colonists had no representation. An American Congress, full of representatives of the American people, is perfectly at liberty to raise taxes if they deem it necessary.”

Jefferson’s eyes widened. “You want to force hard working people, many of whom have already done their part to pay down their own state’s debt, to pay more in taxes to a central government, to pay down a massive debt, in perpetuity. Am I understanding you correctly?”

“Our debt was incurred as a nation. It should be paid off as a nation. The debt will exist whatever we choose to do with it. This way, at least, we’ll start our nation off on a strong financial footing.”

“Have you ever spoken to a small Virginian farmer, Mr. Hamilton? Have you ever even been to Virginia?”

“Only the once.” Hamilton gaze had turned steely, his posture straightening. “And I must admit I didn’t have much time to talk to farmers while I was fighting to help force Cornwallis’s surrender.”

“Well,” Jefferson said, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

“I think this conversation may be growing a little heated for such a fine spring day as this,” Washington interjected.

“You’re right, sir. My apologies,” Hamilton said quickly.

“And mine, Mr. President,” Jefferson added. “Let’s leave politics for a more appropriate time and enjoy our sport.”  

Tentative truce struck, they enjoyed the good weather and caught several blackfish and bass each. The topic rested until their shared coach pulled up in front of Washington’s Cherry Street house that evening. Hamilton leaned to look through the window as the horses pulled to a stop, and asked, “Is that my wife?”

Washington craned is head to look past him and saw that Eliza had indeed stepped out behind Martha. “It seems our wives have been plotting in our absence,” he noted lightly.

Hamilton alighted quickly from the coach and hurried towards the two ladies, arms outstretched. Eliza, he noticed fondly, looked as thrilled to see her husband as if he’d been gone on a months long journey. As they embraced, Hamilton swung her off her feet to spin her around.

“Mr. President,” Jefferson said, catching his attention before he could follow Hamilton’s path towards the house. “How…how can you, as a Virginian, support Mr. Hamilton’s plan?”

Washington sat back against his seat, considering the man before him. “I do not support it as a Virginian.” Jefferson’s brow rose hopefully. “I support it as an American. But of course, it is for Congress to say whether it will be adopted into law.”

“It’s not only his financial plan that causes me unease, sir. I can’t say I know Mr. Hamilton well, but I have seen some worrying tendencies since you fell ill. He was far to enthusiastic in assuming the mantle of authority. That he’s ambitious is easy to see, and that combined with being admittedly charming, handsome, young, and a war hero besides…well, I worry that he is exactly the sort of man who could undo a republic.”

“Have a care, Mr. Jefferson,” Washington said sharply. “Mr. Hamilton’s talent and ambition has done nothing but aid this country thus far, and I have no doubt that he will continue to use his abilities in America’s best interest.”

Jefferson sighed, inclining his head. “If you say so, sir. As I said, I don’t know the gentleman well.”

Washington softened. “I do believe he’s acting in our collective best interest, but I think there’s room to, shall we say, soften the blow for our southern brethren.”

Jefferson’s head tilted to the side, considering.

“Do we understand each other?”

“I think we do.”

Washington nodded, and stepped down from the coach. Martha hurried to greet him.

“You’re looking a world better, my dearest,” she said, scrutinizing his face. “The sunshine did you good.”

“It did,” he agreed.

Eliza was still hugging Hamilton on the stoop. She pulled back slightly to ask, “How did your conversation with Mr. Jefferson go?”

Hamilton craned around to look at Washington, and Washington gave him a meaningful nod.

A mischievous look lit Hamilton’s face as he confided to his wife, “Exactly according to plan, I’d say.”  

Eliza laughed when Hamilton spun her around once again.

[scoutception]

Ranking the 5 animes I’ve recently watched

Long story short, I’ve been taking a break and watching anime, something that I’ve only really experienced in small doses before, though in general I don’t really watch a lot of stuff nowadays (to my memory, the only anime I’ve watched in full is Danganronpa 3, so I’ll go ahead and say it gave me an aversion to it all). As the title says, I’ve gone through 5 so far, so I’ve decided to just type up my personal rankings and thoughts. If I had to say anything important before starting, it’s that 1. everything I list here is a very enjoyable and worthwhile watch, and I would definitely recommend giving any of them a try, and 2. this is just a personal ranking, and so it’s very biased. I might, for example, think whatever is number 5 is technically better than whatever is number 4, but still prefer number 4 for any number of reasons. I’m at least going to try to point out when that’s the case, but it’s still something to keep in mind. I’ll also be including information like number of episodes, what streaming platforms they’re on, which I’ll admit mostly comes down to Netflix, Hulu, and Crunchyroll, and whether or not English dubs are available, or only subtitles. Other than that, let the rankings begin. 5. Little Witch Academia

Number of episodes: 25. Language options: dub and subs available. Streaming availability: Netflix. Little Witch Academia originated as a short film released in 2013 as part of a training program for animators. It was only about half an hour long, but the fun cast and beautiful animation gave it a lot of charm, and enough popularity to spawn a second short film in 2015, the Enchanted Parade, which lasted for closer to an hour. Then, in 2017, it got a full series on Netflix, produced by Studio Trigger, which did away with any continuity from the short films, but kept the general concept. Little Witch Academia follows Atsuko “Akko” Kagari, who, after witnessing a magical show hosted by the witch known as Shiny Chariot, dedicated her life to becoming a witch, despite not coming from a family with magic in its bloodline. Despite managing to enroll in the academy of Luna Nova, dedicated to training witches, Akko finds the reality of it isn’t anywhere near what she expected; Chariot is ostracized by most of the magical community for portraying magic in a flashy, illusionist manner considered embarrassing, Luna Nova’s education is much more focused on tedious, small scale magic than what Akko had come to expect, the world at large considers Luna Nova and its magic to be weak relics of the past, something even its staff can’t argue well against, and worst of all, Akko is incompetent at magic to a downright abnormal degree, even for her normal origins, incapable of so much as riding a broom. Despite the constant demoralization, Akko receives help from one of the academy’s professors, Ursula, who puts Akko on the path to unlock the secrets of the Shiny Rod, Chariot’s personal wand, found by Akko on her way to Luna Nova. This isn’t exactly the most original series out there, and if you’ve watched pretty much anything involving non evil witches and magic schools, you’re not going to be too surprised. The main strength, writing wise, is the fun cast. Akko herself is a pretty entertaining main character, being very excitable and passionate, enough to keep likeable even with her many, many missteps throughout the series, but the rest of the cast is pretty good too. Characters like Sucy, Akko’s roommate obsessed with poison, mushrooms, and picking on Akko, the delinquent Amanda O’Neil, the mute technological genius Constanze, and Akko’s alleged rival, Diana Cavendish, who, though very haughty, has a lot more depth to her than you might expect, help hold the series together very well. Most of the series is pretty goofy and lighthearted, which helps keep it from feeling too cliche. Starting with the second half of the series, though, it gets much more story based, which might be a bit jarring for some people, but still manages some surprisingly sad moments. This is all helped by the great animation, as Trigger can always be counted on to provide, and the dub is good overall, with Erica Mendez especially perfectly capturing Akko. Overall, this is a fun watch, but it’s really not much special, so I can’t really put it anywhere other than dead last. If you want a fun, lighthearted romp that isn’t stuck to only 13 episodes, this is a good one to try. 4. The Pet Girl of Sakurasou/Sakura Hall

Number of episodes: 24. Language options: subs only. Streaming availability: Crunchyroll, Hidive. Firstly, don’t let the very questionable title give too many bad impressions. Sakura Hall, as I’ll be calling it, was originally a series of light novels by Hajime Kamoshida, with 10 main novels being released. The anime, produced by JC Staff, actually only adapts the first 6, though it ends rather conclusively regardless. This is also probably the most obscure anime on this list. Sorata Kanda is a rather unremarkable high school student attending the Suimei University of the Arts High School, forced to live in the very abnormal mixed gender dorm of Sakura Hall. Sakura Hall’s other residents consist of Misaki Kamiigusa, an extremely talented, and extremely weird and energetic, animator capable of creating anime almost entirely on her own, Jin Mitaka, the scriptwriter and childhood friend of Misaki, who is cool, mature, and has an almost chronic playboy streak, Ryunosuke Akasaka, the extremely reclusive, but talented computer programmer who mostly communicates through texts, and Chihiro Sengouka, Sakura Hall’s extremely irresponsible supervisor who prefers to leave the students to fend for themselves, outside of the occasional words of advice. Sorata is only stuck in Sakura Hall due to his refusal to abandon a stray cat he rescued, and intends on escaping Sakura Hall however he can to escape his roommates and return to normalcy, a plan that’s certainly not impacted by him picking up 6 more stray cats along the way. One day, a new resident moves into Sakura Hall: Mashiro Shiina, a relative of Chihiro and extremely talented artist, on a level only Misaki and Ryunosuke can match, who is also very unemotive and almost completely incapable of caring for herself, not helped by some rather odd thought processes (she’s almost certainly autistic, but they never actually clarify that). Sorata and some of the other Sakura Hall residents thusly become Mashiro’s caretakers, and are soon additionally joined by Sorata’s friend, the workaholic aspiring voice actress Nanami Aoyama. Sorata’s previously tedious life becomes defined by his struggles to find a direction to his life, his attempts at caring for and understanding Mashiro, and the various problems of the rest of the Sakura Hall residents. The main writing strength, is, again, the cast of characters. The characters are all very enjoyable, even the designated average guy, Sorata, and they all have their share of struggles, hidden depths, and development. The first half of the series is, for the most part, plain wacky, and while it does delve into serious moments more than a few times, it’s also prone to plain breaking the mood, either by starting them suddenly, or just as suddenly interrupting them with a gag. It’s enjoyable on its own, but it can be a bit hard to get into. The second half of the series is a big change of pace, becoming much, much more focused and serious, and for the better. Bitter topics like resentment against those who can outperform others simply through natural talent, and the risks of overworking, and the slippery slope mentality against accepting help that it can generate, are frequently brought up, and it does not shy away from how brutal reality can be. It’s never dark to the point of creating apathy, though, and it overall captures a very bittersweet portrayal of nearing the end of one’s teenage years, and preparing to become an adult. The animation is pretty good, and the voice actors all give memorable performances. Overall, this was probably the hardest series for me to get into at first, but sticking with it is very worthwhile. I can’t really say much about it, if only because I don’t want to risk getting into spoilers, but it genuinely is great. I was even considering placing it higher than number 4, but the next three things were stiff competition. 3. Gurren Lagann/Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann

Number of episodes: 27. Language options: dub and subs available. Streaming availability: Netflix, Crunchyroll, Hulu, Funimation. Here’s what I would bet is the second most popular anime on this list, and was more or less one of the grand finales to the golden age of Studio Gainax, directed by one of the co-founders of Studio Trigger, and is perhaps most memorably one of the series where Gainax didn’t completely mess up the budget by the end. Simon (pronunced see-moan) and his self appointed big brother Kamina live in an underground village, with Simon living a monotonous life digging tunnels so the village can expand, in hopes of finding artifacts and being awarded better dinners, while Kamina constantly causes trouble in his attempts to breach the underground and reach the surface. Simon is insecure and self deprecating, thinking he’s only capable of the job he already has while Kamina is extremely boisterous, charismatic, and capable of seeing the potential within Simon. The way to the surface is finally opened for the pair by the appearance of a giant mecha called a Gunmen, which are piloted by the beastmen, who control the surface and are out to exterminate any humans they come across. Simon and Kamina are saved by the appearance of Yoko, a human who lives on the surface, and a miniature Gunmen discovered by Simon, which Kamina dubs Lagann. Making their way to the surface and capturing an enemy Gunmen Kamina names Gurren, Kamina decides to take the fight to the beastmen themselves, and drags Simon and Yoko with him, starting what can only really be described as a rollcoaster ride of giant mechas, drills, and general insanity. The series honestly starts only about average, but starting about episode 7, the scale just starts going up and up, and doesn’t tend to slow down. It goes for bigger and bigger heights, making for some amazing action scenes, and doesn’t get desensitizing like some things would. The cast of characters is great, between characters like Kamina, being lovably boisterous and encouraging, Simon, who gets some fantastic character development, Yoko, the sniper who despite seeming just like designated fanservice has some great development herself, Viral, the recurring beastman commander who just can’t keep up, and Lordgenome, the absurdly manly leader of the beastmen, and that’s just listing a few. The animation is great, the soundtrack is very memorable, the dub is one of the best out there, especially with Kyle Herbert as Kamina, and the writing, despite just seeming like big fun robot show, makes a surprisingly great story. I unfortunately can’t go much more indepth without definitely wading into spoilers, but it doesn’t take too long to start paying off. Overall, if I had to try to rank without bias, this would actually be number 2 on this list. It’s a great ride, and one I can recommend pretty much without question. 2. Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood

Number of episodes: 64. Language options: dub and subs available: Streaming availability: Netflix, Crunchyroll, Hulu, Funimation. Here’s what’s certainly the most popular anime on this list, and what would be my number 1 without bias. There’s actually two Fullmetal Alchemist animes, with the original 2003 one going very off track from the manga and becoming its own thing, while Brotherhood, made in 2009, stays faithful to the manga. Fullmetal Alchemist follows the Elric brothers, Edward and Alphonse, in a world where the art of alchemy allows its users to transmute materials for purposes such as reshaping them into new forms, and operates on a principle of equivalent exchange, with every transmutation made relying on something being taken away. After being abandoned by their father, Van Hohenheim, and losing their mother to a plague, Ed and Al attempted the forbidden practice of human transmutation in an attempt to bring her back to life, only to fail, with Ed losing his left leg and right arm, and Al losing his entire body, forcing Ed to affix Al’s soul to a suit of armor. His missing limbs replaced with automail, a type of prosthetic, Ed becomes a government employed alchemist for the nation of Amestris, ruled over by Fuhrer Bradley, in hopes that he and Al can find a Philosopher’s Stone, an artifact said to be capable of eliminating the equivalent exchange requirement of alchemy, in hopes they can reacquire their natural bodies. Since things can’t ever go so smoothly, they end up involved in a massive conspiracy led by one known as Father, who commands Homunculi, artificial humans, who are themed after the seven deadly sins. By far the longest anime on this list, it’s also easily one of the richest. Almost every episode does something to move the plot along, and introduces a lot of important plot points fairly quickly, which helps keep the story interesting. There are many storylines going on, but all of them are both interesting and relevant, helped by the downright amazing cast Fullmetal Alchemist has to offer. From colonel Roy Mustang, out to become Furher to help atone for Amestris’ crimes, to Ling Yao and May Chang from the country of Xing searching for the secret of immortality, to the Ishvalan named Scar, out to avenge his people, who were the victims of a war of extermination waged by Amestris. As for characters closer to the main plot, Ed and Al are both great protagonists, with plenty of development between the two, and their interactions with Winry Rockbell, their childhood friend and mechanic, make for some great scenes. The antagonists are also great, with quite a few defying how one note themed villain groups like them can be, like the shadowy abomination Pride, the sadistic rat that is Envy, the independent Greed, and especially the extremely intimidating Wrath. The animation by Studio Bones is great, as is the soundtrack, and the dub is fantastic, helped by almost all of the cast from the 2003 anime reprising their roles. Voices like Travis Willingham as Roy Mustang, Christopher Sabat as Alex Louis Armstrong, Chris Patton as Greed, and Ed Blaylock as Fuhrer Bradley especially are fantastic. Overall, this is one of the best shows I’ve watched, period. I recommend it very highly, and almost wish I could confidently declare it number 1. 1. Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai

Number of episodes: 13. Language options: subs only. Streaming availability: Crunchyroll, Hulu, Funimation. Firstly, again, this is not something to judge based on the name. Secondly, yes, this is where all the bias on this list comes from. This is anime is actually only about a year old, so it’s surprisingly recent, and is also by far the shortest of all the series I’ve listed here. Rascal is based off a series of light novels by the same author as Sakura Hall, Hajime Kamoshida, and was produced by CloverWorks. Like Sakura Hall, the anime doesn’t completely adapt, only going through 5 of the 9 novels currently released, with a movie, of all things, adapting the 6th. You may or may not have heard of this anime while it was airing, but regardless, I’m here to spread the word of it, cause it’s a special place for me. One day, while browsing a library, high school student Sakuta Azusagawa notices a girl wearing a bunny suit walking around, not being acknowledged by anyone other than himself. The girl turns out to be Mai Sakurajima, an actress on hiatus that attends his high school, who has found she’s recently become invisible to an unknown number of people outside of their school. Sakuta identifies it as “Adolescence Syndrome”, a mysterious phenomenon that occurs due to the unstable psyches of adolescences, which causes physical effects on the world based on their biggest causes of stress. Sakuta has seen the effects of Adolescence Syndrome himself, with it causing physical harm to his sister, Kaede, and causing her to become a recluse, and somehow causing Sakuta to be scarred as well. Hoping to learn more about the phenomenon, as well as just hoping to spare Mai from a similar fate, Sakuta decides to solve the mystery of her syndrome, as well as those of other girls in each story arc after. The premise is pretty unique by itself, and it uses its potential very well, thanks to the grounded writing and great cast of characters. Sakuta is not your typical protagonist: he’s blunt, blatantly perverted, and more than willing to verbally pick on people with little to no provocation. He’s not even close to a bad person, though; he treats the friends he already has at the start of the series, and everyone else he proceeds to grow closer to, much more respectfully, and when the chips come down, he’ll do crazy things for other people with no hesitation. He’s one of the most refreshing protagonists I’ve seen in a long time, and has most of the best lines in the series. The rest of the cast is also great, especially Mai, the other main lead. In fact, the main focus of the series besides the Adolescence Syndrome cases is Sakuta and Mai’s relationship, which is very well written, to the point of being my favorite part of the series. It avoids so many stumbles a lot of other series can run into: the relationship is started up early, nobody manages to threaten their feelings, and any misunderstandings, current or even just potential, they take steps to work though. Even when she’s willing to jab at and mess with Sakuta, Mai is always affectionate and transparent with her feelings, and becomes progressively even more so as it goes on. It’s also just, a refreshing change of pace compared to most relationships in anime. The other main focus, the Adolescence Syndrome cases, are just as well written. Despite exaggerated situations like becoming invisible to people, or even causing a time loop, there are few times they’re played for laughs. The series takes it all very seriously, mostly because of the kind of factors that lead to the syndrome appearing. Things like an oppressive school atmosphere, where standing out causes scrutiny, and most decide to just follow the leader to avoid consequences, or the fear of your only friendships being damaged over minor reasons. While more positive than Sakura Hall, it takes the same care to show just how damaging issues like this can be. Even Sakuta isn’t above it: he’s rumored to have send some of his classmates to the hospital once, and despite being completely false, it’s ostracized him to the point that he considers himself lucky to have 2 whole friends, and he’s just accepted the mindset that fighting against such an atmosphere is pointless. There a lot of emotional moments throughout the series, especially the last three episodes, and it earns them all. It even shies away from fanservice most of the time, even despite the very title of the show (the bunny girl part was actually only the title of the first light novel, but the series just kept it for the whole thing) The animation isn’t too wacky due to the tone and grounded writing, but it has an appealing artstyle, and the voice actors do a great job as well. Overall, this is an anime that’s genuinely very good by itself. Even so, what is it that makes me so biased towards it? For one thing, it just hits some emotional soft spots a lot of other stuff doesn’t personally manage, through stuff like, once again, Sakuta and Mai’s relationship. The very interesting premise and general grounded nature also wins it a lot of points. But, ultimately, it’s not something I can really put into words. Might be because I watched it on a very weird day. Regardless, this is one I would definitely want everyone to give a chance, and here’s hoping the movie gets a DVD release soon. And with that, there’s to end to my rambling. Again, I would recommend everything I’ve put here to most people, but especially the top 2. I’m planning on watching some more anime, so I may make another ranking like this soon. Otherwise, till next time. -Scout

[grandmalavi]

Moondance, a Marquillo/Serquel fanfiction. My first time writting about these two, so I hope it it isn't too cringy nor extremely OOC. Enjoy! :)

“MOONDANCE”

Raquel found Sergio outside, seating by the beach, bare chested and barefoot underneath the moonlight. Staring at the crashing of the waves, it seemed as if the ocean held all answers to the overthinking going on inside that brilliant mind of his.

He'd sneaked out little after dinner, when she'd been too enthralled in a conversation with Ailyn, the kind Filipina woman he'd hired to help with them with house chores, to properly notice his escape. Once she'd noticed his absence, though, Raquel immediately knew where he'd go— in this pacific island of theirs, there weren't many places to run off to, after all.

She'd left her mother to continue chatting with Ailyn from where she knit by the kitchen table, calm and chatty as the woman rarely was these days. They discovered the sound of one of Sergio's old classic records would have a surprisingly soothing effect over Marivi, and it now played softly at the background as Raquel left the room, travelling upstairs to found Paula already tucked in bed. The little girl flipped curiously through the pages of one of the books Sergio had purchased for her birthday, a month ago, and once her mother sat by her side, Paula filled her ears with excited babble over Harry Potter's newest adventures until finally being convinced into turning the lights off and going to sleep. Smiling at her small form underneath the sheets, Raquel had left a crack of her daughter's door open, so that she'd have that little bit of light coming inside the room the way experience taught her it'd make her feel safer, although the talk around bedtime these days was that nine was too grown up to be afraid of silly monsters anymore.

Then, and only then, Raquel went out in search of the complex, annoyingly withdrawn man she turned out to love— supposing she'd given him the time alone he seemed to need to think, by then.

Their living room double doors opened to a breathtaking view of the ocean, and in specially hot days they'd taken a habit off setting in the comfortable net outside and watching as Paula ran around in the sand with her new Palawan friends. She and Sergio would talk about nothing and everything, swinging pleasantly in the arms of one another while exchanging the silliest smiles, between caresses and kisses that'd leave them both needing and turned on, although much too comfortable with just snuggling innocently in the breeze to move inside and do something about it, at the same time. Their touching would be torturing, but of the best, slow-burning and arousing sort of kind— leaving both flustered and breathless afterwards, often clinging onto one another like high schoolers until the time they'd be alone again would come.

This night, Raquel stood by the doorway while bracing herself against the chilling ocean breeze coming in, her eyes wandering briefly until she found Sergio's familiar form, his slean shoulders bared outside in the cold, although he remained unflinching in face of the waves constantly licking his legs. Feeling a wave of sadness wash over her at how lonely he seemed, she sighed, and without further hesitation started making her way toward him.

Her feet dug into the cool sand, goosebumps lifting all over her arms once she reached the spot where he sat, pushing her wavering hair out of her eyes to stare down at him. Cross-legged, Sergio had his elbows over his knees, not only his jeans soaked by the come and go of the ocean but all the rest of himself, as well. With water drops still glimmering in his skin and his hair damp, glued to his neck, it was clear he went for a night time swim in the freezing cold waters ahead— and, judging by his t-shirt thrown soaked in the sand by his side, not so long ago.

He was clearly freezing, the muscles of his back coiled and tensed, making something ferocious inside Raquel rise, wanting nothing but to wrap herself around him and handle him all the warmth she had. Even so, she held back, finding a fragility in his posture that told her he might recoil, in case she'd do so. And even though her approach hadn't been silent, at all, Sergio didn't seem to notice her presence there until she came to sit by his side, crossed legs underneath her summer dress to mimic his own, her knee coming to brush slightly at his.

At her touch, Sergio straightened suddenly as if struck by electricity, his eyes raising to her face as hers lowered, to find the whiskey glass half filled with wine he cradled between his hands.

He'd rarely drink, unless if to make her company, and something about the fact he found more comfort at the bottom of a glass tonight made her feel all sorts of angry and sad. But looking inside his eyes, stripped off his glasses for the obvious risk of losing them underwater, Raquel found how unsurprisingly sober he was, for despite knowing how this meticulous man she came to know could oddly turn unpredictable sometimes, she also knew he'd never be reckless to the point of entering the ocean drunk off his ass.

No, this… this sounded more like something she'd do, being definitely the impulsive one out of both. The thought made Raquel smile at him, soft and a little bittersweet, wishing deep down she'd muster just enough reasoning to help him cope with whatever bothered him today, exactly the way she knew he'd do for her anytime her feelings made her go a little nuts.

“I really made you a rebel with this swimming in your clothes thing, huh?” she murmurs, tilting her head to the ocean with her smile widening, teasingly “I mean, it's a little late to be freezing my butt out there, but you could've called me to join, no? I can be a little rebel too…”

“Just a little, yes, Inspectora?” Sergio's eyes crinkled as he smiled, shortly and awkwardly, his head ducking at his lap to avoid eye contact “I, well, I wasn't exactly planning on doing it, until… until I-I sort of… Was already there, water on my waist.” he gestured nervously, his hand making as if to push the glasses that weren't there back to the top of his nose “I, you see, I-I had a couple more of these before,” he lifts his glass, swirling the wine “and then I suppose the alcohol must've made me think I wanted to get rid of something very badly, for I threw it at the waves. But as soon as I saw it floating away I regretted it, and let's just say I had to dive in and fish it back on myself…” he shook his head, shyly, looking at her through his lashes with a shrug and a self-deprecating smirk “Not my finest moment, so I'm glad you weren't here to see me destroying the beauty of fully-clothed swimming so pathetically, indeed.”

Raquel's smile faded as he spoke. Frowning, not liking the look in his eyes, she forgot the space she intended on giving him and reached to grab hold of one of his hands in hers, bringing it to her lap. Immediately she realized her instinct to be right, for Sergio's cold fingers squeezed hers quite frantically, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, sort of leaning forward towards her, his eyes sparkling in the reflection the moon provided on the waves.

Oh, my love.

“Sergio, did you get rid of Andrés' watch?”

His features twitched, a grimace of shame, and he nodded “Tried.” his voice was a whisper, that he drowned inside his glass in a nervous gulp of wine. Then, he shook his head, wiping clumsily a drop of water that slid from somewhere around the bridge of his nose, then down his cheek “I-I, I don't know what the fuck I was thinking, Raquel. What damn good would've come out of getting rid of the only thing my brother has left me…” he sighed, tremulously, scoffing at himself “My father's watch, Raquel. This old contraption he had restored for me because I'd refuse putting it aside in twenty years, all of it so that I'd have it in time before the heist… so that I'd have 'a second to remind our reasons' on me, he said.” Sergio's whole face scrunched, as if some sort of physical pain cut him from the inside “Same damn thing Dad told me the day he left to die, leaving me this watch so I'd have a piece of him, and since then it's become… It's become this piece of Andrés and that bastard smile of his as well, Raquel, and now it won't probably even work anymore…” he closes his eyes shut, trembling “I-I'm such an idiot-”

“Hey.” Raquel scooted closer to him, passing her arms through his, her chin propped on his shoulder as she tilted her head backwards to meet his eyes “Only I can call my boyfriend that, you hear me?” sighing, she asked softly “Where is it?”

“Over my shirt.” Sergio nodded towards it, and Raquel turned to reach for it. Turning the simple, delicate watch she'd only seen him take off to sleep over in her hands, Raquel saw how he'd attempt to dried it, although droplets of water had inevitably leaked inside it as she tapped its glass, its hands remaining frozen, still marking the same time from about an hour ago. The engraved quote “a second to remind your reasons” shone as she ran her thumb softly over the back of it.

“We'll ask Aylin if she knows any watchmaker in the village to take a look at it later.” she tells him, turning his hand over to set the watch firmly around his wrist, back where it belonged, planting a soft kiss to his palm before resting their joined hands back over her thigh again “But even if it can't be fixed, it doesn't matter.” she entwined their fingers, squeezed his hand “I'm sure your brother wouldn't care, for he gave it to you so that you'd keep on you as a reminder of himself and your father, not as just one more gift. What matters, carinõ, is that it's become important enough for you to make you dive into the ocean at night just to retrieve it back.”

Leaning her cheek to his arm while watching him mull over her words, she felt how cold and damp his skin felt, how he'd punished himself by seating there and letting shivers consume his exposed chest until now.

“Berlim was…” Sergio shook his head, his voice cracking “Sometimes reminding him is… difficult, complicated. I kept… looking at it, today, over and over, and, I-I don't know, Raquel…” he gulped, turning the watch anxiously around his wrist “ It was hard not to replay his death over and over, I suppose, just at the sight of this. It felt simply so… revolting, unfair. Then next thing I new, I'd already launched it at the waves. And at first… at first it made me feel so damn relieved you wouldn't believe it, Raquel. So, so much.” his tone was raspy, strangled, and he squeezed her hand so firmly it hurt “Until I realised, realised… I couldn't. Shouldn't. Immediately, it was as if this stone-shaped weight settled inside me, heavying me all over, a hundred pounds over my shoulders. It made me regret, then go after after it like the moron I am, so fucking ashamed and hoping I could somehow grasp his memory back-”

“Shhhh.” Her heart ached as she attempted a smile at him, rubbing his arm up and down in attempts of lending him a little of her warmth, at least. Feeling her own eyes filling at the sight of Sergio's shining ones, Raquel cradled his face in her hands, blinking her own tears away “You don't have to feel ashamed, you hear me? It's okay for you not to want to suffer nor carry willingly reminders of your losses around, Sergio. Means you're human. Means it's normal for you to want to run away from bad, painful memories, sometimes. It's perfectly okay…”

Sergio rested his forehead to hers, eyes closed, pulling Raquel to his chest as a tremulous gasp escaped his lips. She tried to keep her eyes open and watching him, but it was proven impossible as Sergio nuzzled his nose to hers, lips brushing softly against her cheek before he buried his face into the space between her neck and shoulder, releasing what it seemed to be a lifetime held breath, warm and heartfelt, against her skin.

Her eyes drifting closed, Raquel hugged him back and let him drown his sorrow inside her arms.

Very soon this morning, soon as the sun peeked at the horizon, she'd woken up suddenly and for no apparent reason to find herself alone in their bed. Missing the usual feel of Sergio's arms wrapped around herself, she'd sat and turned around to see where he'd went, finding his familiar form observing the sunrise by himself at the beach outside. Knowing the occurrence of his nightmares and troubled sleep the past few days very well by then, for she was the one to comfort him and witness him toss and turn, calling out his brother's name in the night, Raquel assumed he needed to clear his head off but didn't want to wake her up.

Nevertheless, she went after him. And wrapped her arms around him from behind as soon as she was close enough, hands sliding to his chest as she glued herself against his back, being able to feel the deep intake of air he took as soon he felt her touch. She'd earned herself a weak smile, Sergio's larger hands finding and grasping hers thankfully as she hugged him tighter, wishing to able to send all his troubles away with something as simple as her presence, alone. Together they stood, until sun rays colored the sand by their bare feet, orange glowing and outlining their joined bodies in soft warmth.

And then Raquel pulled him back towards the house, Sergio following willingly, wrapping himself all around her in return. Soon they no longer walked, but stumbled upon their unmade bed, falling over the mattress together amidst Sergio's pouring ticklish kisses all over her neck and shoulders and Raquel's breathless, relieved laughing out loud.

Their lovemaking was rushed and intense, a frantic ripping of clothes and ablazing hands exploring exposed skin, until Sergio's hips furiously met hers, coaxing shared gasps of relief out of both. Raquel's pent up desire for his touch made her dig scratches with her nails into his back, such was her pleasure, coaxing him into moving, harder, faster, deepest as possible within every thrust inside her until they both reached a sudden, toe-curling climax almost at the same time. Collapsing above her, Sergio's arms enclosured Raquel in a warm cage in which she immediately melted, his lips pressed against the pulsing hollow of her throat as they both struggled to catch their breath. She smiled in contentment, although briefly, once she noticed how tense and still he rested inside her embrace, silent even as she drew lazy shapes over his back with her fingertips, trying to get some actual words out of his mouth to express what had tormented him so much during the night.

Then, finally, as she felt moisture where his cheek had come to rest right above her heart, Sergio breathed his confession in a harsh whisper “He'd been forty-six today.”

And without further words needed, with her heart sinking, Raquel understood. It torn her how little there was she could actually do for him, but to hug him and feel his pain and let him hold onto her, caressing his hair as his silent tears slid between her breasts.

She'd never got to meet Andrés, besides for that brief and mostly unpleasant encounter with him as Berlim back at the heist, but that morning she and Sergio both fell asleep feeling deeply for his loss at heart.

When she'd woken up again, was to the strong smell of Sergio's cologne filling her senses, once during their sleep he apparently had turned on his side and crushed her to himself at some point, entangling his limbs around her in a death grip. Raquel's face glued to his neck, for she honestly felt hotter within the second against his warm body, but soon she found out she didn't bother much, when it was clear by his slow heartbeats Sergio felt deeply comforted and at peace in their sweaty embrace. She was, in fact, just starting to doze off again, lulled by the sound of his regular breathing, when he released her a bit, clearly awake, to cradle her face in his hands and place a lingering kiss on her lips.

“Good morning.” he'd said, smiling, and with that Raquel thought— wanted to believe— his troubled thoughts had ceased tormenting him, at least for today.

And true to his best abilities of putting up a facade, Sergio managed to convince her pretty well with another kiss and the promise of having breakfast ready for her downstairs, before he'd retrieve his glasses by the nightstand and left her hugging a pillow in lieu of his body, to disappear inside their bathroom displaying a relaxed smile on his face. Through the rest of the day, he never mentioned his brother nor the sorrow he'd expressed freely in her arms that morning again.

Raquel never approached the subject either, knowing that Sergio was bound to shyness and embarrassment if pushed into expressing himself prematurely, especially when the control freak inside him reacted so poorly upon having his emotions on check. And so she went along with his good humor and set about watching him closely, instead.

She laughed along Aylin and her mother's silly conversation topics at the breakfast table while accepting the coffee mug he handled her with a quick peck on the lips, watching him with the same moved gratitude of every day as he walked around her chair to deliver Paula's plate first, a smile opening on his face as the little girl approved soundly of her chocolate chips and bunny-shaped pancakes made out of scratch. Raquel even sneaked by the old piano Sergio had pushed against a corner in their living room, later, leaning onto the instrument in silent awe to observe him coaxing her daughter's enthusiasm into actually sitting and learning a few clumsy notes under his patient guidance. Unsurprisingly, she'd almost embarrassed herself by actually tearing up once Paula eagerly started playing the song they've been practicing for about two months now, Sergio's encouraging murmurs making her little girl smile proudly, seemingly suddenly so attentively and mature Raquel wanted nothing but to hug her tightly and never let her grow up.

But, above all, Raquel felt as if she could actually weep if any of them lifted their eyes from the keys long enough to acknowledge her presence there. Because family was the only word she could think of to describe Sergio's hand on Paula's shoulder and the little girl's clear admirance upon him every time he'd smile approvingly when she'd hit the right notes— the two halves of her heart, merging together into actually loving and caring for each other right there before her eyes.

Not for the first time since she'd brought her family to live in Palawan, Raquel felt deeply thankful for Sergio's willingness into making them a part of his life as well. He was such a different man here amongst them, and little by little she saw how he'd started to reveal new sides of his personality just by interacting with them. He no longer was the Professor nor Salva to her, but Sergio instead, a junction of both personalities into this man worth so much more Raquel could see both her daughter and mother starting to discover— and falling in love— for his true self as well.

Right now, being hugged and hugging him equally fiercely back, Raquel wished their newfound love could be enough balsam to relieve the lost of his loved ones somehow. Almost as if sensing her worry, she felt Sergio's chest expand against hers as he sighed very deeply, cupping the back of her head with both hands before finally releasing her, pulling back. She found pain still there in his face, but his eyes were clear once again, albeit intense, his attention solely focused on her in a way that made Raquel's stomach flutter in unexpected butterflies.

“We should get back inside.” he whispered, his features softer, tender, his hands moving to rub her upper arms “You're starting to freeze.”

"You are the only one freezing here, Professor.” deciding they've loathed over sadness enough for today already, Raquel opened a mischievous smirk at him. Smitten, she stole his glass of wine for herself and tossed her head back, emptying it in two gulps. Licking her lips, she left it behind on the sand, very much enjoying the way Sergio's pupils dilated as he watched her, amused.

“I've learned a long time ago that the best way to warm up is being creative.” she said, then leaned in for a kiss Sergio returned so hungrily she moaned against his mouth, coaxing a frustrated groan out of him as soon as she pulled back, smiling, and giggling got to her feet “You can get your old man's ass back inside later, 'cause right now you owe me a dance, Marquina.” she offered him her hands “Moondance is still my top ten Van Morrison favorite, so if you could, you know, get yourself moving while the moon is still out, that'd be great.”

“They'll have to get this engraved on my tombstone.” Sergio shook his head, smiling “Dead by Raquel Murillo's hands. Poor man couldn't say no, they'll say.”

And he grabbed her hands, stood up, resting his own hands around her waist to nuzzle her neck, feeling finally brought out of his own head there against her, happy and alive.

“Funny. Last night it seemed I was handling you just fine, no?” Raquel whispered by his ear, putting her arms around his neck.

Sergio laughed into her hair “Oh, you've got low tactics, Inspectora. Very low.”

“Anything's fair in love and negotiation, Professor. I didn't invent that.”

“Wrong quote. Great point, though.” he whispered, then nibbled her ear, chuckling when she gasped and pushed her hips automatically against his.

“W-Why aren't we moving?” Raquel stuttered, actually a bit flushed “Dancing and standing aren't the same thing, you know.”

“Oh, I do.” Sergio took one of her hands in his, pulled her closer and pushed back to beam a smug smirk at her “I told you before I never enjoyed dancing, but I did grow up with Andrés by my side, you know. He'd coax me into waltzing him more times than I'd like to admit, and I'll let you know I happened to get very good at it, Murillo.”

He winked at her and started swaying on his feet, gently guiding her along. Unable to stop herself, Raquel smiled wide, gasping and laughing in delight as Sergio unexpectedly spun her around, bringing her breathlessly back to his chest with a laugh of his own.

“You're not so bad, I admit it.” she breathed against his ear, heartbeats happily pounding, her chin over his shoulder as she tried to catch her breath. Closing her eyes, she wished they could spend the whole night like this, blissful and lost in their own world.

“Well, I was taught well.” Sergio spun them in lazy circles, putting her messy hair behind her ear “My brother would come back from the dead just to wack me on the head if I'd embarrass myself in front of a pretty girl like you, Inspectora.”

“Pretty girl, huh?”

“Yes, very pretty. Hot, too. Naughty. And oh, so horny sometimes…”

She slapped him playfully on the chest.

“That's a good comment to reflect about on the couch, you know.”

“You think? 'Cause I think some punishing sex would teach me a better lesson-”

She silenced him with a kiss, one that escalated very quickly, up until they stopped swaying to devour each other's mouths, breathing loudly and eating one another's moans, the freezing ocean breeze ignored around them once hands caressed and burned every bit of exposed skin there was to be touched. Sergio was almost lifting off her feet when Raquel pulled back, breathlessly, resisting the need to wrap her legs around his waist.

“Let's get back inside.”

“But I thought you wanted a dance first.” Sergio murmured, showering her jaw line in languid kisses “I was starting to feel rather fond of this new dancing style, to be honest…”

“Sergio.” Raquel protested, faintly and barely audible as her eyes tended to roll every time his mouth touched her skin “Carinõ, I'd love to, but if we keep dancing with your hands wandering in this pace, soon enough both Ailyn and my mother will be able to spot my bare ass from all the way inside the house.” she wrinkled her nose, reminding a few near-misses in her teenage days “And trust me, she wouldn't let us hear the end of it anytime soon…”

“Alright, alright. Back inside.” Sergio sighed, releasing her to gather his shirt from where he'd left it in the sand and hurry back to her side so fast Raquel giggled, before he grabbed her hand and pulled them to the house “Let's go. Don't stop or make eye contact, or else they'll make questions!”

His seriousness made her laugh harder as they entered the house, Sergio pulling her behind himself like a man on a mission. They crossed the living room and went for the stairs like teenagers on a secret relationship, sneaking into the bedroom instead of out of it, while hoping the women inside the kitchen wouldn't catch them on sight. Her mother's sharp instincts, however, were not to be underestimated, and soon they heard her shout:

“Don't forget to dry yourselves, otherwise you'll catch a cold!”

Laughing at Sergio's deer on the highlights looks, Raquel called back “Don't worry, Mamá!”

As she heard Marivi's and Aylin's amused laughter downstairs, Raquel guided a flustered Sergio towards their room, thinking a cold wouldn't be a price so high to pay for all she could've expected from a dance under the moonlight with the man she loved, and more.

[birdlord]

Every Book I Read in 2018

Again, better late than never??

01 On the Town; Marshall Berman - A freewheeling personal and general history of Times Square, which had some great historical tidbits I’d never read before. I think I would have got more out of it if I were interested in Broadway musicals...

02 Stephen Florida; Gabe Habash - A slim little book that follows a college wrestler. One of those books that is described as muscular, when what they mean is brutal. 

03 Green Grass, Running Water; Thomas King - Four plot lines intertwine in a story blending mythology, creation, and modern First Nations people dealing with massive transformational change to their lands. I did sometimes feel like I would have enjoyed it more as an audio storytelling experience. 

04 People who Eat Darkness: The Fate of Lucie Blackman; Richard Lloyd Parry - I don’t often read books like this, but this is essentially a true-crime sort of story, about the murder of a British woman who works as a bar hostess in Japan. Parry covers not just her story, but the whole aftermath, which even pulls in Tony Blair, eventually. 

05 My Brother’s Husband; Gengoroh Tagame - Weirdly, two Japan-related books in a row! Another culture-clash tale, when the Canadian husband visits his deceased husband Ryoji’s single-parent brother. The couple had never been to Japan while Ryoji was alive, and so the story of slow acceptance (helped along by little Kana’s openhearted curiosity) is suffused with sadness. 

06 Ghosts of the Tsunami: Life & Death in Japan’s Disaster Zone; Richard Lloyd Parry - And, let’s make it three! When the earthquake and tsunami hit Japan in 2011, I remember thinking that the reaction seemed so orderly, so...Japanese. But this examination puts you right in the various affected communities, following different people, including schoolchildren from Okawa primary. Like with the other Parry book above, we hear about all of the grief, ghosts and lawsuits that follow the disaster. 

07 Mademoiselle: Coco Chanel and the Pulse of History; Rhonda K. Garelick - Once she became famous, Coco Chanel built a scaffolding of lies about her past, and the purpose of this biography is to attempt to see the truth behind them. Garelick concentrates heavily on Chanel’s collaboration with the Nazis, which must have been a challenge given that her company still exists, under her name.

08 Kubrick; Michael Herr - “They speak about the dumbing of America as a foregone thing, already completed, but, duh, it’s a process, and we haven’t seen anything yet. The contemplation of this culture isn’t for sissies, and speaking about it without becoming shrill is increasingly difficult, maybe impossible.” Whoa!

09 Call Me by Your Name; Andre Aciman - I did read this after seeing the film, so as usual it was hard to divorce it from the movie experience. 

10 The Left Hand of Darkness; Ursula K LeGuin - A thought experiment about a genderless world, seen from the perspective of an off-planet envoy, who has a range of reactions to the world’s inhabitants. The most enduring section of the book involves a brutal 3-month expedition undertaken by the exiled envoy and a local, a trial by ice, wind and snow. A winter read. 

11 Stamped from the Beginning; Ibram X. Kendi - I don’t think I’d really fully grokked the idea that southern white supremacy built itself in order to prevent an uprising of the black and white underclasses, together. The basic rubric of this book is separating American movements, parties and individuals’ thinking into one of three categories: assimilationist, segregationist or genuinely antiracist. Supporting results like abolitionism does NOT make one antiracist, since support could come those with less pure motivations. I highly recommend this one, though it was copy-edited in a pretty haphazard manner!

12 Witches, Midwives and Nurses: A History of Women Healers; Barbara Ehrenreich & Dierdre English - A short book charting a couple of parallel stories, of women healers in Europe being dismissed as witches, and the masculinization of medicine (particularly midwifery and the medicine of birth) in the USA. 

13 Her Body and Other Parties; Carmen Maria Machado - Short stories skirting the edge of a lot of genres; horror, science fiction, dark comedy. These are women’s stories, that refuse to be dismissed as chick lit. It didn’t connect with me as deeply as it has for some, but I see the appeal. 

14 Look Alive Out There; Sloane Crosley - Largely comedic set of essays by a writer whose earlier work I read, about a decade back. It’s a strange experience, to return to someone who has written memoir that seemed to exemplify that late-2000s era and discover that she - and you - have grown. 

15 Homesick for Another World; Otessa Moshfegh - Moshfegh’s choice of words (not to mention her characters themselves) remain utterly revolting. I often found myself looking up, shaking my head as if to say THIS BOOK. Considerably funnier than Eileen, which was the first of hers that I read. 

16 My Year of Rest & Relaxation; Otessa Moshfegh - After reading this, I found out that Moshfegh basically set out to get her work noticed by populating it with these vile young women. Well, it worked! Your tolerance for unlikeable main characters will be tested by this rich Columbia grad who decides to prescribe herself into a virtual coma within her NY apartment, at the turn of the millennium. And yes, it ends where you think it does. 

17 They Can’t Kill us Until They Kill Us; Hanif Abdurraquabi - This collection of music-related writing is wildly far-ranging, poetic and emotional. For myself, I did find I was more interested in those that were related to bands or musicians I had some experience with myself , which was not always the case. 

18 The Bad Food Bible: How and Why to Eat Sinfully; Aaron Carroll and Nina Teicholtz - If you’re a reader of the food media, most of what’s in here will be familiar to you, debunking fears of meat, GMOs, gluten, MSG. The authors keep their own experience, taste and interests very much in the forefront, which ends up feeling smug and irritating. 

19 The Mere Wife: A Novel; Maria Dahvana Headley - My knowledge of Beowulf is scant at best, but this retelling stood very much on its own two feet, set in a tony suburb and comparing the experience of two very different mothers of two very different sons. 

20 How to Write an Autobiographical Novel: Essays; Alexander Chee - I’m very much On The Record as being against writers writing about writing, but this might just be an exception. 

21 Vancouver Special; Charles Demers - A sort of update on Douglas Coupland’s City of Glass, a book I loved and reread many times. This one has both a more historical bent, and an actual political viewpoint, contrasting with Coupland’s Gen X remoteness.

22 Crudo; Olivia Laing - A rushing frantic little novel, incorporating Trump tweets and Kathy Acker quotes throughout. A difficult read so close to the events described, but I can see this being an amazing window into this weird time, once a few years have passed. 

23 Hits & Misses; Simon Rich - This might also be on the line of “writers writing about writing” but Rich manages to do so in a charmingly self-deprecating way. 

24 2020 Commission Report on the North Korean Nuclear Attacks Against the US; Jeffrey Lewis - Speculative fiction written as a government report, responding, as we all have been doing, to the endlessly unprecedented Trump presidency. It all started with a tweet, of course...

25 A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities that Arise in Disaster; Rebecca Solnit - This book is intended to counter the idea that disasters (“natural” and otherwise) lead people to indulge their worst sides. Solnit looks at the aftermath of some 20th C disasters like the Halifax Explosion, 9/11 and various earthquakes to find examples of people banding together to help the wounded and homeless, even taking the opportunity to create new institutions when authorities fail to do so. A tonic for a world in which disasters are likely to become increasingly common. 

26 How Fascism Works: The Politics of Us and Them; Jason Stanley - When I lived in Scotland in 2010, I went to an anti-fascist rally in Edinburgh, and I remember feeling like those attitudes were closer to the surface over there, where at home in Canada they felt abstract. This book traces how fascist policies lurk within democratic frameworks, and can sometimes metastasize to take over the host. Suffice it to say I was probably wrong then, and I’m definitely wrong now.

[5godsofphantomlord]

[An abridged timeline of the Five Gods]

Odin gained the ability to use magic before they even started travelling between timelines. He was taught how to use Spirit Spear Lullaby by a hooded figure who also gave him (as well as Zeus and Amaterasu) the ability to travel between timelines.

The first timeline they visited was the RWBY (JPDE) timeline. They 'landed' in Atlas and soon enrolled at Atlas Academy. Despite Odin struggling to use aura, they managed to graduate two whole years early, and begun training as Atlas military Special Operatives directly under Winter Schnee. This is where the three of them where given their codenames, and they where originally called the 'Snow-Owl Unit'.

During this time, Odin keeps Lullaby in its Dualist form, and refrains from using magic in public, even Winter doesn't know.

Their first official mission was to deal with the assassin Marcus Black. The mission was a success, but Zeus didn't get her Semblance back.

After the drop in performance from Zeus, Winter gave them the opportunity to apply for a experimental 'Dust Encancement Treatment' which Zeus applied for almost immediately.

Once they got used to their new abilities, they where tasked with going undercover at Beacon Academy to investigate a threat they had been told was going to arrive there soon.

Kogane was partnered with Kerry in the entrance exam, and James with Adrian.

Kogane kept her faunus heritage a secret for a while, but eventually she told Zeus.

Zeus then told her (in confidence) that the three of them where working with the Atlas military, Kogane was not best pleased.

Eventually she realised that her team weren't like what she'd head (and seen) of the Atlas military.

Kogane eventually developed feelings for Zeus.

The confession was adorable, but Kerry doesn't handle emotions well, so she just froze.

They are absolutely dating.

Meanwhile, Odin developed a close friendship with the members of team JPDE, and soon after teams RWBY and JNPR

Fast forward to the Vytal festival, the team bolted for the Beacon air-docks when they saw Winter's Bullhead.

Adorable interactions insue, with Winter trying to be formal and suppress her Maternal instincts.

Odin finding out that Weiss is 'one of those Schnees' is a sight to behold.

"Wait, you're Miss Winter's sister! That's AWESOME!!"

Fast-forwarding a little more, Jacqueline B. Ivory VS Kerry Clerk is on-par with Winter vs Qrow to the normal citizens, but a sight to behold for anyone who fully understands how crazy being kicked to the arena floor from the ceiling in under a second really is.

Kerry managed to win, but fully admitted that it was a coin toss and she got lucky.

Odin healed them before the medics came.

PvP still happens, Odin fucking bawls, he'd gotten really close to Penny.

During the fall of Beacon, Odin uses his full power without caring who sees

Odin (when he hears about Pyrrha) flies at top speed to the tower, and manages to get her out of the way of Cinder's arrow.

Odin then fights Cinder while Pyrrha tried to find a way down. He gives it everything he has, including summoning Death's Blossom for the first time, but it isn't enough. Cinder (using significantly more of her power than she did in the main show) shoots an arrow with two heads (one at the end, and one further back) at Odin.

The first head goes straight through and hits Pyrrha, the second stays in him. He and Pyrrha suffer the same fate.

After the dust settles and news of Pyrrha and Odin breaks, the whole team is distraught.

The hooded figure appears once again to them, and tells them that there is a timeline in which lies the means to bring him back from the dead. He then passes them a box telling them that it contains his soul, and that it will be needed for what is to come.

Zeus drops by the arena before they leave, picking something up...none of the others know about this.

They then end up in the Fairy Tail Timeline (they'll be back here again at some point).

They spend multiple years searching for a powerful necromancer capable of doing the deed. Eventually they find one by the name of 'Zethar Irolen' who asks for only freedom in return.

He brings Odin back to life, but Odin isn't quite the same. He's still the same person, but he doesn't smile anywhere near as much, and his jokes are much more self deprecating.

The hooded figure then appears to them again, welcoming Odin back to the world of the living, and telling them to gain power by going to yet another timeline.

This time, Odin isn't as focused on the spell that let's them travel between timelines, so they end up separated (but all in the same timeline).

Odin begins looking for them in every town he goes through, eventually finding his way to a quaint little pub called the Boar Hat.

He gets himself dragged into the adventure to find the Seven Deadly Sins, with Meliodas promising that he would help him look for his friends.

Odin developes a strong bond with King, who eventually let's it slip that Odin is a Fairy like him, as that's the only way he'd be able to use a Spirit Spear

Odin connects the dots and is a little upset that he wasn't told that fact, but has no qualms with being a Fairy.

King teaches James how to better utilise his magic power, and eventually teaches him Status: Promotion as well.

Fast forward to the battle against teh Ten Commandments at the Second Vysal Fight Festival, and Odin refused to let himself be captured, and aids Meliodas in the fight (having reached a Power level of approximately 28,500).

It's then that the Ten Commandments, or more specifically Greyroad , release their secret weapon (more to show off than anything). This happens to be a cloaked figure welding two axes and some intense fire-magic.

Odin eventually pulls down the hood on this figure, only to find that it's Amaterasu. Adrian's face holds a twisted smile, but his eyes are filled with sorrow and fear.

After a heart-wrenching 'I know you're in there somewhere' fight, Adrian manages to fight the magic afflicting him for long enough that he can throw his body into Meliodas' Full Counter, freeing him from Greyroad's curse.

They aren't able to save Meliodas from Esterosa.

Eventually, a group of Celestial warriors fly down to the surface, lead by none other than Zeus, who was offered the opportunity to become a celestial by their king after saving them from an attack by the Six Knights of Black.

She ends up taking Escanor's place fighting Esterosa, being able to resist his Commandment because she doesn't feel any haters towards him.

"I don't hate you, but I'm afraid I have a duty to uphold. You are a threat to my friends - to my family, and for that reason I'm afraid you have to die."

She's thrown off by his full counter at first, but once Esterosa explains it she avoids it by only attacking him in melee from behind.

We also see her Sacred Treasure for the first time in this fight, Bolt's release (the cosmic storm being summoned) does some serious damage to Esterosa, functioning as the Cruel Sun that Zeldris tried to save him from.

Meanwhile Odin is able to avoid the affects of Greyroad's Commandment when destroying the Demon eggs thanks to Status: Demotion.

Amatarasu is outside slaughtering low-level demons like he was born to, getting out some of his rage in the process.

Maui joins the battle mid-way through, also with her newly acquired Sacred Treasure, but we don't see its release yet.

Eventually the team has to head to another timeline to further power up, they intend to head back to Zethar's timeline but they instead end up 'somewhen else'. Odin once again (unintentionally) separates them.

Odin joins the Phantom Lord guild, hoping that its connections to the Magic Council will aid in his search for his teammates.

He gets quite close to the Guildmaster, Starla Jullianos.

He ends up locating a cave with a Dragon's skeleton and a blue crystal at the bottom, he did have to fight some monsters to get to them, but it wasn't much trouble for him.

He finds out soon after that it is a Dragonslayer lacrima, and spends the majority of his time looking for someone to implant it

"I mean, if I make enough noise, they'll find me, right?"

It's after the operation that we see him in a room in the Phantom Lord Guild Hall late at night. Starla peeks in to check in him and sees him curled upin the corner of his room. Back against the wall, knees to his chest. He has markings on his face that glow, changing from blue, to red, to purple, to yellow, to white, over and over again. Faint sobbing can be heard between the mumblings of "Not again." and "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

Starla confronts him about this, then and there, and after a few minutes of trying to deny it and replace his facade, he finally admits that since his resurrection he has been suffering from what is most likely to be Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He never admitted it to his team because he didn't want to worry them, but he got flashbacks of his death almost every night.

Eventually the team is reassembled once again, and (although hesitantly) James tells his team about his PTSD.

Many hugs follow, especially from his Sister. But many from everyone.

After thanking Starla for helping him through, the rest of the team decide to join Phantom Lord as well.

Kogane and Chester make quick friends when Kogane reveals her faunus heritage.

Kerry and Landon get along quite well, Landon is certainly impressed by her Lightning Godslayer magic (and does point her in the direction of the Imprisoned).

Amaterasu decides that Landon is a rival.

Landon isn't really into it, but he plays along because he finds it interesting, and because it's not doing anyone any harm.

Adrian also becomes fast friends with Rex, partially because they're both Devilslayers, and partially because pancakes.

Zeus befriends Shinako Quite quickly, and they both have long debates about books, something they both enjoy.

Odin is very wary of Shomaru, this is because (as we find out) he's afraid of dogs.

However, he warms up to the Demon doggo, and in doing so makes good friends with Priscilla too.

Also, you can bet that Odin spends as much time as he can trying to befriend the 'Quince' guy that the Guildmaster is so obsessed with.

Side note: Kogane totally let's Priscilla give her ear scritches because she loves it because Priscilla is young and as pure-hearted as they come. This is something only Kerry would be able to get away with otherwise.

Amaterasu also totally teaches Priscilla how to use an axe when he finds out about her War-God Mode.

Soon though, another party joins the Guild. These are: Tetsu No Jûnin (another iron devilslayer), Brandur 'The Drunk' (a potion-brewer), Arciere Incazzato (an Archer), 'Firefox' (a fire dragonslayer), the elaboratly named Fred Jr (a Takeover Mage), and a much younger looking Zethar Irolen (claiming to be a Venomancer).

Eventually, after doing many jobs for the Guild, the 'Four Gods' find out that Zethar is attempting to become a Litch, and that he wants to eradicate slayer-mages because a slayer-Mage of unknown type killed his family.

There is a long battle against a full-Litch Zethar which (with the help of Wilhelm's crew, and Tetsu's) ends with him being sealed in a farmiliar looking cavern.

There is most definitely a collective 'Oh shit.'

Realising that they would absolutely not be able to take him down by themselves, they head back to their home timeline. Kerry says that she needs to speak to someone there anyway, and that catching up with old friends and family is a good idea.

They end up arriving a year later than they intended to.

Kerry and James' nan was worried sick, they all cry when they are reunited.

Adrian meets up with his (highly religious) family, and (unable to hide if from them in good conscience) tells them that he is now a demon.

That doesn't go down very well.

His mother, father, and younger sister all disown him on the spot. His mum even tries to douse him with holy-water.

His older brother leaves with him, he'd been having doubts about the family's beliefs anyway and decided that disowning their own flesh and blood twice was the last straw. He takes Adrian to meet the oldest of the siblings, his older sister, who'd left as soon as she could.

They talk for a long time, it's the first time Adrian has felt no pressure from his biological family.

Meanwhile, Odin, Zeus, and their nan go to meet Harrison, an old friend of theirs who'd apparently gone on to work at the MBDA.

That's when they found out he'd been missing for a month.

Later (after a lot of investigation) they where watching TV at home (something they hadn't done in years) and they see a Breaking News Headline about a virus known as the 'Mercer' virus that had been released on the streets of New York for the Third time in under a year.

They then saw the supposed perpetrator, Alex Mercer, rip a steel door ten times his size off of its hinges like it was nothing, and the camera he was holding (this was footage he'd sent to teh media) then zoomed in on a farmiliar looking young man.

There was an instant and unanamous decision to go to New York.

Family was left at home, for their safety.

Kogane was picked up along the way, she'd been investigating their home town.

When they get to New York, they realise that if they touch anything with the virus, chances are they'll be infected.

Zeus solves this issue by dealing with the infected 'zombies' via Lullaby.

Death's Blossom makes a return.

They then race to find Mercer

When they find him, he's teaching Harrison how to use his new powers

Many questions insue, Mercer explains that after the explosion (the first Prototype's ending) multiple pieces of his body regenerated into multiple Mercer's. One is currently working underground to destroy Blackwatch once and for all, one was killed by James Heller for causing the second outbreak, and then there's him. (For anyone wondering, this is to explain the complete change in Mercer's character in the second game, as well as to make a 'Devil May Cry Dante' Alex Mercer).

Harrison is found out to be struggling with amnesia, but over the course of the conversation he starts remembering his friends.

Many hugs ensue.

The team work with Mercer and Harrison to take down Blackwatch, as they are the ones behind the outbreak of the Blacklight virus (as it is actually named).

Eventually Blackwatch is exposed, many employees hand themselves in to police when they find out what their company has been doing.

The higher-ups are all arrested by force.

It is found out that Harrison cannot be cured, as the process would kill him, he accepts this, and swears on his life that he won't spread the virus to a single soul.

He returns to work at the MBDA, and Zeus pulls some strings to get him extra funding for... Something... She doesn't tell the others what this something is, or about the funding, and she asks Harrison to do the same.

While they have down-time, Kerry introduces Kogane to her nan

Her nan is a little confused about how two girls can date each other, but says that she won't fight against her granddaughter's happiness.

Eventually, the group is invited to their local MBDA shelter, Adrian is distracted by the bombs and missiles.

They are given a full tour, which ends with the new 'artificial intelligence department'. Zeus isn't supprised by this, everyone else is.

They are greeted by Dr H. Williams

The H stands for Harrison.

Zeus isn't supprised by this either.

The rest of the group give a collective "Wtf, explain."

Their only reply is: "Turn around"

Then they hear a familiar voice greeting them.

"Sal-u-tations, friends! It certainly has been quite a while since we last spoke, has it not"

Many hugs and ensue

Odin fucking bawls again

Kerry then explains that she'd gone back to the arena after Beacon to see if there was something of Penny she could salvage. She ended up taking her whole head, hoping there was something there that could be used to rebuild her.

It turns out her hard drive was in her head, so was the computer that controled her ability to learn and her personality.

Harrison got a promotion when his superiors saw how he was rebuilding Penny, and how complex her A.I is. He became the Head of the Artificial intelligence department.

Penny explained to the group that she wanted to help them however possible in return for giving her another chance at life.

With a fully geared up, Penny, and a Harrison willing to learn, the group said their goodbyes and headed for the 'Guild timeline'

A slight miscalculatiom occurs, welcome to superhero world.

The team decide to enroll at UA Academy to get Harrisom some training.

They end up in class 1B

They don't really talk to many of their other classmates, except for Kendo because Big Sister Energy

No-one can figure out James' 'Quirk'

James tells no one.

The group decide that Harrison should be the only one of the group to actually try in the sports festival, as a way of seeing how far he's come.

He gets into the combat rounds

Harrison vs Momo is an awesome fight (doesn't shaft Momo like the anime did)

Harrison vs Kirishima is next, the fight is shorter, but more intense, ending with a ring-out

Harrison vs Bakugou is next, the Armour form makes it's debut in this fight, but Harrison still loses to Bakugo's howitser.

Eventually Shinsou gets into 1B

Zeus (relating to that level of tired, after dealing with the Chaotic Dumbass that is Adrian for a few years now) makes fast friends with him

Adrian is wary if Shinsou at first because of his Quirk (He's not got fond memories of mind control) but eventually warms up to him.

The group eventually warm up to Monoma, but recognise him as 'the asshole friend'.

Eventually they head off to the 'Guild timeline'

Penny soon became known as 'Artemis of the Five Gods of Phantom Lord'

Harrison took the name Heracles, as he was in training, so he felt naming himself after a demigod was more apt.

Penny learns archive magic, as well as some telekinesis.

It also turns out that she's naturally more powerful than she was at Beacon.

Heracles undergoes a lot of training, but struggles with making friends at the Guild.

Enter Wilhelm Grimm, who refuses to let people be sad.

Hera is most definitely offered some of Wilhelm's weed.

Wilhelm also introduces him to Maki

The two shy bean get along amazingly when one of them finally breaks the ice.

It was Maki

Eventually they head to a few hours after Zethar was released, and face off against him, just the six of them.

That's where Zeus gets her scar.

They do eventually win, but they realise that they need him alive for one last thing

This leads to them giving him an ultimatum: "If you ceace your path of destruction, we'll take you to a place where your worst nightmare is nothing more than a dream."

He accepts and they take him to the RWBY timeline.

Penny insists that they find the rest of team JPDE, while Zeus thinks they should go to Atlas first to inform the General.

Odin ends up intentionally sending them to different places, Penny to Vacuo (as that's where Adrian had said they'd gone), and Zeus to Atlas.

An unforseen side-effect of this is that Adrian ends up in Vale while Odin is sent to Argus in the kingdom of Mistral. Maui ends up in Minagiere.

Odin spends many weeks trying to convince the Special Operative in charge of the Argus base (one Caroline Cordovin) to let him through, but she refuses.

Eventually team JNR see him at the gate and try to help

Emphasis on try

Eventually team RWBY catches up

Odin gets very pissed at Cordovin for her racist comment towards Blake

The Oscar stuff goes as normal, except James is with Oscar.

They pass the statue of Pyrrha while they're out.

Odin tries to hold it in, but ends up having a full on breakdown, feeling responsible for Pyrrha's death, and getting flashbacks of his own that are worse than any he'd had previously (and that's really saying something).

To put it into perspective, his semblance goes awal when he gets flashbacks, changing dust types every instant.

And the force of the gravity Dust, for the few moments it's there, manages to rip the statue out of the ground and float it a good 30ft in the air.

It's a bad one, trust me.

Jaune sees the flying statue and runs to investigate, Ren and Nora at his sides. They didn't see what the statue was of.

They get there to see Odin on the ground in tears, and a leaning statue of their dead friend.

Many tears

Many hugs

Jaune apologies

Odin apologies

It's very sad and wholesome.

Eventually the team get back to the house

"thE CASAROLE!"

The plan to steal an airship is still a go

It still goes wrong

Odin doesn't feel like fighting a mech, so he channels power from Spirit Spear Lullaby, and we see the debut of 'Fourth Power: Flash Freeze'

Think Todoroki vs Sero

Cordovin is salty

Odin is salty that she's salty, so we also see the debut of 'Second Power: Decisive Strike'

The mech is halved

Cordovin is still salty

Ruby (now having time) tries to get to Yang and Blake,

By the time she gets there, the fight is already over

Kevin 2 shows up

Kevin 2 gets Fire Devil's Sabered in half by an overexcited (mach 30) Amaterasu

Amaterasu (after cooling down) goes with the group in the airship. Odin is outside the airship because "Fuck motion-sickness"

They get arrested for stealing as soon as they get to Atlas

Adrian gets bored so he breaks everyone out

The gaurd is to scared of the guy who just melted a steel door thicker than he is (by breathing on it no less) to try and stop them.

Two S.O's are assigned to stop the perps from escaping.

Those two are Zeus and Winter, so it goes about as much in the General's favour as you expect

Especially when Winter finds out her sister was one of the prizoners

Winter is not happy about that.

Ironwood is confronted by the group, and apologies when he sees who it is.

"Sorry. Fucking 'SORRY'. WE WHERE FUCKIN' JAILED YOU ARSEHOLE!"

Amaterasu was not amused.

Odin then has a panic attack because he can sense a farmiliar magic signature.

Desks and lamps start floating.

Then the room starts floating.

Then they realise that Cinder is nearby.

Odin makes a portal as a reflex the squad (except Penny, who wasn't there) is teleported to a random timeline.

They're greated with Alduin

Not a fun time

When they escape, a mountain shouts out for Kogane.

That's weird.

Some guys from a nearby farm credit the Grey beards with that, and tell the group that they have to climb the Seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar.

Amaterasu gets lost on the mountain.

Odin just flies up.

Kogane walks up the mountain with Zeus, they get some time alone.

Hera is a little behind them, because he's reading the tablets.

He catches up to them and mentions the tablets, as well as the 'Talos' guy who is mentioned on many of them.

Kogane mentions in passing that the name sounds farmiliar.

Eventually everyone meets up at the Greybeard's stronghold

Then everyone is told that Talos (one of the Aedra) is Kogane's grandfather, and that Kogane is Dragonborn thanks to this.

Adrian flips his shit

"HAX, I CALL HAX!"

Kerry silently thinks its kinda hot that her girlfriend is the granddaughter of a god.

Kogane is confused

Odin floats up top to think

He then promptly screams at the sight of Pathurnax

They end up having a nice chat when Odin calms his shit.

Kogane eventually learns a couple of Dragonshouts, i.e. Whirlwind Sprint, Unrelenting Force

They also learn some of Nurn's magic while there.

Kogane finds out that she'd been using magic that didn't exist to her her whole life

Except it did

Talos ends up talking to her telepathically, and explains that he wanted to see what other timelines would hold. In one such timeline, he fell in love with a Faunus woman, who would soon be Kogane's grandmother.

He did, however, return soon after, stating that he had to maintain balance on Nurn.

Meanwhile, Adrian comes back to the stronghold with a pair of black and red axes.

"Where did you get those?" "I was... Given them... Y-yeah! Some red guys gave them to me!"

Daedra then attack the stronghold.

Generally not a fun time

Many daedric corpses later, they realise that they did something that was probably pretty bad so they head back to Atlas.

Odin had prepared himself mentally for Cinder's presence this time, and instead of getting flashbacks, he just starts floating in a direction

This happens to be in Cinder's direction.

"How are you alive!" "Don't worry about it, you won't be long enough for it to matter."

Odin then uses all of his power to fucking annihilate Cinder.

He then summons a bound bow, shoots her in the heel to stop her from running, and then loads a farmiliar arrow, the same arrow that killed him.

"Tell me Cinder, do you still believe in destiny."

Cinder gets very, very dead

Odin has a breakdown again, because he just killed someone, but it was Cinder, but it was still murder, but he avenged Pyrrha and himself.

Boi is very confused, and had been running on adrenaline and hate through the entire fight.

Penny gets back to the group, and says that she's thankful for their help, but she wishes to return to her team.

The Five are cool with this, but wonder who the new fith member will be.

"I think the fith position is in very safe hands." [part 1/2]

[agentdagonet]

Echoes, Ch. 27

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

          ‘So, Michelle, I’ve been tasked with a special delivery.’ Harry Hart hadn’t dared to open the bag Eggsy had shoved into his arms on his way out the door. It wasn’t very heavy, which was lucky as he’d likely have dropped it if it were, but he’d fumbled it anyway much to Eggsy’s bemusement.

           ‘Dare I ask?’ Michelle held the door open, stifling a chuckle at the garishly wrapped item in Harry’s grip. Eggsy’s idea, then.

           ‘You’re free to ask but I can assure you that I would not be able to answer as I’ve no idea what it is.’ Harry placed it on the table, setting his regular contribution of chocolate biscuits beside it before pulling a chair out for Michelle. When they’d begun this odd adventure into friendship she’d protest, citing the fact they it was her house and she was a fully-grown adult. Harry had refused to sit unless she had acquiesced, and repeated the process until she had simply rolled her eyes before taking her seat and allowing him to settle her proper.

           Harry Hart was nothing if not a stubborn man, and Michelle had learned that it was something he had impressed upon Eggsy as an important skill.

           ‘Well, let’s have a look, then.’ Michelle reached forward, surprised when it moved so easily, and picked delicately at the tape.

           ‘I was of the impression that wrapping was made to be ripped apart, but don’t allow me to tell you how to unwrap a present.’ Harry lifted a brow as he poured his tea, smiling around the words, and Michelle thought to herself that she was grateful to have someone who could and would poke fun at her without it being malicious. It was still a shiny and new experience, and she wasn’t sure if it would ever become the norm in her head.

           ‘Well on Christmas and birthdays, perhaps, but this hasn’t got an occasion attached. This is just cos, an’ that don’t happen very often where I’m from- so I’m gonna savour it.’ She tucked her tongue behind her teeth as she carefully peeled at the tape and opened one edge without ripping even the edges.

           ‘Well, colour me impressed; I’ve no finesse with paper or anything that could be thought of as delicate.’

           ‘I’m sure that ain’t true, Hart- you’re certainly doin’ well with Eggsy.’ It was amused, and maybe she was pushing a bit, but any friendship had boundaries and she had yet to learn what they were with the gentleman before her.

           ‘I’m more than a bit confused by your framing him as delicate- Eggsy has certainly weathered and adapted around many things that would break lesser people.’ Harry knew he was purposefully ignoring a jab of some kind, but allowed it to pass through with little analysation. There would be time for that later. 

           There was nothing less than immense pride in his voice, and Michelle couldn’t help but be warmed by the fact that someone else saw that in her son. She may not have been able to show it at the time, or even all that much now, but she felt like every mother felt an irrational amount of pride in their child’s accomplishments- and Harry’s pride just made her feel vindicated.

           So there, society- her boy was something after all.

           ‘Time and shit wears at stone, Harry- just cos someone can figure their way out and about and through things don’t mean they ain’t delicate in other ways.’ Michelle wasn’t one to talk, she was learning, but she was a mum and was more than entitled to trying to protect her kid- even when he obviously didn’t need it. And, anyway, it wasn’t like he’d ever find out- it seemed like Harry was as oblivious as Eggsy was.

           Why were spies so blind?

           Her nail slipped at the next bit of tape and snagged the edge of the paper, tearing it. The two of them froze, Michelle’s lips slightly downturned, and Harry prepared himself for a self-deprecating comment that he would diffuse because Michelle needed to learn that she had value- but it never came.

           ‘Fuck it.’ She tore violently into the wrapping, only to reveal more wrapping underneath- this time stuck together with duct tape. Harry couldn’t hold in his laughter, amused beyond all reason that Eggsy had gone through the trouble of making the wrapping impossible to remove without destroying it after having watched Michelle make the attempt for several minutes on the previous layer. ‘Yeah, yeah, laugh it up- you wait ‘til your birthday and see what shit he pulls on you.’ That shut him up, and Michelle grinned to herself as she fully gave in to her desire to reveal what was hidden inside.

           Harry was able to see it first, given that Michelle had somehow managed to unwrap it upside-down and was immediately faced with the back-end of a picture frame, and his breath caught in his chest.

           Eggsy had made a copy of the photo from their mantle, of Lee laughing. Harry kicked himself for not having realised that the distinct lack of evidence of Lee in Michelle’s house was due to her not having anything to display far more than her not desiring to. But, the frame was in two parts, and in the other section sat a photo of Eggsy from his training, curled in his siren suit with a book and JB beside him. He was smiling softly, and with the two side-by-side Harry was easily able to pick out Lee in Eggsy’s face.

           Michelle turned the frame about, finally seeing the photos, and dropped the frame to the tabletop to cover her mouth with both hands. Harry struggled with himself, unwilling to cross a boundary he wasn’t sure existed but wishing desperately to provide comfort, before placing a hand on her shoulder. She leant into the touch, and Harry sighed softly at not having read the situation wrong; he could feel the hitch in her breathing as her eyes darted from photo to photo, fingers trembling slightly against her lips. He noticed a glint from the discarded wrapping, and reached his other hand to examine it, pulling out a thin gold chain. It looked old, a style he’d likely see in an antiques shop more than a proper jewellers, and there was a pendant at the end, shaped like a book. 

           He placed it beside the frame, unwilling to pry further, and when Michelle realised it was there she began to cry in earnest. Her shaking hands picked it up, looking but not really seeing it based on the glazed look in her eyes, and opened the pendant. There were a couple of older photographs inside, but she turned a page and there were Eggsy and Daisy across from herself and Lee. Harry recognised the photo with Daisy from their last outing, when Eggsy’d demanded a selfie from the swings.

           ‘How did he find this?’ Michelle whispered it, obviously not expecting an answer, and Harry wondered at the significance. ‘It was my mum’s,’ she said suddenly, not looking away from her hands but speaking at a tone that showed she was speaking to him and not the air, ‘I had to pawn it off when Daisy was born, Dean’d never intended on having a kid and we couldn’t afford much in the way of nappies and such at the beginning. So I went down and gave 'way what little I’d inherited for enough to get by for a bit- it’s been years. I gave up on havin’ anything of them after that. They’d never been big on photos or stuff.’ She flipped back to the first set of photos, and Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.

           ‘Well, now I know where he got his ears from. And, goodness, there’s that mole- it’s surprising to see what all isn’t entirely unique.’ Michelle tucked away the knowledge that Harry’s knowledge of her son extended to beauty marks on his neck and leant further into him to show the photos more fully. ‘He certainly got his grandmother’s eyes.’ 

           ‘Yeah; my mum was a heartbreaker and Eggsy’s no better. Between his jaw and his confidence I bet there’s loads of people falling all over themselves for a chance with him, if he’d take notice.’

           ‘Well if not then they ought to be.’ Harry stated it matter of factly, as if anything else were unthinkable, and Michelle wondered if he knew he’d spoken aloud at all. But, if she brought attention to it he’d likely pull himself back into his shell- so she’d let it be. 

           He’d figure it out in his own time.

           ‘I never thanked you, Harry.’

           ‘Pardon?’ What was it with Unwins and throwing him entirely off-kilter in as few words as possible?

           ‘For the part you played in Eggsy’s confidence. And loads else besides; you’ve single-handedly turned the Unwin legacy around.’ She nudged him with the shoulder that was closest, and put the locket down before patting him with a hand.

           ‘A full 360, perhaps, over the course of twenty years. You’re back where you ought to have been from the start.’ Harry refused to meet her gaze, a flush pulling its way up his neck, and Michelle snickered to herself before impulsively ruffling his hair. Harry’s head snapped in her direction, eyebrows at his hairline, and Michelle couldn’t have stopped the cackle that escaped from her if she’d bothered to try.

           ‘You hold yourself to too high a standard, Hart. Let yourself have a bit of fun, love.’ It’s huffed out between bouts of laughter, but Harry couldn’t help but be charmed by her efforts. ‘If I told you once I’ve told you a dozen times that you didn’t fuck our lives up, you did the best you could with what you had and I just… didn’t.’ She shrugged, seemingly careless but her eyes reflected a deep-seated sorrow that Harry wished weren’t present. ‘But you’ve gone above and beyond whatever perceived call of duty you was actin’ for. Just… let yourself be. Can’t move ahead if you’ve got your head in the past.’

           He had no idea of how to respond to that, so he hummed low and casually lifted a hand to fix his hair whilst avoiding eye contact. Michelle stood from the dining table, taking the framed photograph to a small table by the door and propping it up before nodding to herself.

           ‘It’ll do, for now. And now, Harry, you’re gonna spend the next twenty minutes catching me up on the stupid shit Eggsy’s done since I saw you last.’

[mollymauk-teafleak]

but the heart of a man is a simple one (last part)

It’s been a trip, y’all. Please leave some comments, this has been a really fun fic to write and I’d really appreciate your feedback. Thanks so much to @minky-for-short and @soft-bram for being incredible beta readers. 

On the twenty third day after the departure of Archmage Widogast and his retinue, the carriage they’d departed in came rumbling through the palace gates. The guards stirred, sighed and listlessly started forward, summoning the porter. How like one of the arrogant, puffed up wizards they served to give no announcement of their return and just expect to be taken care of. Not looking forward to carrying some stuck up mage’s heavy mahogany luggage when she had far more important things to be doing, the captain on duty approached the carriage, waiting for the door to swing open and a flurry of commands to come pouring out.

And she continued to wait. Frowning, she gingerly reached for the latch on the door and allowed it to swing open, wondering if the mage inside were drunk or had nodded off into an ill-timed nap. It wouldn’t be the first time.

But all that happened as the oak and gilt door swung wide as a noiseless sagging of the carriage and a puff of energised air, almost as if a spell that had been holding it, say, to make it travel all the way from the Menagerie Coast back to Zadash, had been released. Inside there was no archmage. No retinue. No guards or luggage or items of any kind, just a dusty interior.

That and a letter.

The letter was summarily presented to the Grand Mage as soon as the council could gather. The whole hall was hushed and still, wrapped in curiosity and confusion, every eye trained on the Grand Mage as his yellowed eyes ran across each line, his face growing tighter and more purple with rage at every word.

Though the letter itself was quickly shredded between the white knuckled fingers of the Grand Mage, its contents had spread throughout the castle before the hour was up. Though the many voices that whispered it and the many ears that heard it may have distorted the message, the general gist of it was more or less preserved.

Archmage Widogast would not be returning.

“Are you nervous?”

Caleb lifted an eyebrow, Nott’s voice pulling him out of a deep well of thought, like a lifeline dangled down to the bottom for him to grab. He thought about his answer carefully, stroking Frumpkin behind the ears as the cat shifted and settled more comfortably in his lap.

Even with his eyes closed he knew the doors at the back of his bedroom were open out onto the beach beyond. Already there was the gentle bubble of conversation, the only indication of the crowd gathering just over the ridge of dunes, but the most prominent sound was the waves. Caleb had grown so used to that sound in such a short space of time, he’d come to depend on it the way he depended on the rush of blood in his own body. Just that small nod that the world was still out there, the world he still thought was just a little bit too perfect to exist.

But it was real., he could here it all Out there was a vast, never ending ocean, comforting in its eternity. A beach of golden sand and smooth pebbles that fit perfectly in the palms of his hands, with veins of glittering sea glass. Out there were his friends, his friends who’d followed him halfway across the continent and stayed beside him.

Out there was the man he loved.

“How could I be nervous?” Caleb finally murmured.

Nott giggled and patted his shoulder with one small hand, giving him the signal to open his eyes while the other finished winding the flowers into Caleb’s drawn back hair. He could see now, he had a veritable bouquet set into his copper curls. Not the almost fantastical, alien looking flowers of the Menagerie Coast with their bulbs and fronds in the shape of masks, people and pretty much anything that wasn’t a flower, but the more rounded, humbler blossoms of home.

Not Zadash. Blumenthal.

Looking at himself in the polished glass for the first time in nearly an hour, it was all Caleb could do not to cry.

“Where did you get these?” he finally managed to croak, looking at Nott through their reflection. The tiny farming village where he’d grown up was leagues and leagues away from where they sat, the cost of having them shipped must have been insane…

“I had to ask Caduceus to help a little,” she confessed, shrugging humbly, “I wasn’t sure of their names. But I just wanted you to have something special for today. Something from your old home to bring in to your new one.”

Caleb swallowed something that felt the size of an apple and turned to hug Nott tightly, awkwardly squishing Frumpkin between them, much to his dismay. He had always been better with actions than with words.

A new sound arrived on the beach outside; a lilting, soft music, played expertly on the lyre. It came naturally, flowing in with the murmur of waves on the shoreline, though there was an element of beckoning to it. A call.

“They must be ready for us,” Nott let go of Caleb reluctantly, she’d like nothing more than to keep holding him, “We should head out there…if you’re ready?”

Caleb smiled crookedly, appreciating that delicately lingering question, the fact that Nott was ready to whisk him away from this if he asked for it. He knew how odd this day must seem to his friends, after everything he’d been through in the last year and change. But he stood, smoothing down the front of his dress shirt, making sure the tails of his brown leather coat and the red velvet cravat on his chest lay just right.

“I’m ready.”

He took a moment to glance at himself in the glass one more time. There was a smile there, a smile he hadn’t really been aware of, one that just crept its way onto his face because he simply felt like smiling. His eyes were bright, a little shadowed after a night of being too excited to sleep. His fingers seemed restless, eager, unwilling to sit still as they moved to touch the flowers in his hair, flatten his lapels a little more, run across his jaw and wonder if he should have shaved.

All in all, he looked like a groom on his wedding day.

Grinning, he offered his arm to Nott who gratefully clambered up and onto his back. Not wanting to be left behind, Frumpkin gave a squeak and jumped onto his left shoulder. He had to smile at that. The last time he’d felt so alone, cut off and dragged away from anything even close to comforting, left alone and vulnerable under eyes that regarded him like searchlights. Now he was so inundated with friends, he staggered when he tried to walk out to the beach and let the ceremonies begin.

Caleb really preferred how they did things in the Menagerie Coast.

There was no procession, no presentation or long agonising walk under the sharp gaze of everyone. The two of them met as equals under a canopy of white silk, standing across from each other, smiling coyly as the assembled crowd quietened, realising both of the intended were present.

Caleb’s heart gave a flutter at the sight of Mollymauk, standing in the gauzy shade, digging a hole in the sand with the toe of his boot self-consciously, unaware the man who was currently his husband but soon would be even more his husband had arrived. In a fit of tradition, they’d decided to spend the night before their real wedding apart, to give the next night some air of importance. Almost immediately, Caleb had regretted it, lying awake in the manse’s guest bed, too full of nerves to even contemplate sleep and missing Mollymauk so feverishly it was like an aching hole in his chest.

He would have been delighted to see him for that reason alone, even if he hadn’t looked as gorgeous as he did.

There hadn’t been all that much notice of today, it had been rather impromptu. Molly had been teasing him over the past week, complaining how he hadn’t given him nearly enough time to source an appropriate outfit. Though Caleb had grinned and teased him right back, replying that anything the tiefling wore, he would look stunning and people would whisper and wonder how on earth he’d ended up with that patched up, scruffy haired redhead. That had earned him a thwack with a long, purple tail. Mollymauk didn’t care for his self-deprecating jokes.

But even after the whining and warning that he’d probably have to get married naked (something Caleb didn’t object to in the slightest), Mollymauk looked beyond beautiful. He had flowers in his hair too and arching up his horns like twisting vines. The garlands were tradition for weddings in the Coast and, as Caleb’s reflected everything that had brought him to this day, this shaded spot on a beach hundreds of miles away from where he’d been born and everything he’d thought his life would hold, so did Molly’s. His flowers were clusters of what Caleb knew as sundrops but they may well have a different name to his husband. Either way, they were famed for their ability to grow even in the harshest conditions, to sprout up between cobblestones, along walls, in rain washed drains, everywhere they weren’t wanted. And despite all that, they remained delightful, a proud blush of the brightest yellow gold, symbolising strength and resilience, beauty in the face of adversity.

Whereas the first time around, back in Zadash, he’d been dressed as if for battle, as much metal as he was flesh between the scimitars and the jewels. It had been a deliberate, constructed display of wealth and ferocity, to show off the level of blood, history and breeding the relatively new Dwendalian empire had yet to achieve and, in the eyes of the rest of the world’s nobility, never would. It had been more of a spit in the face. You couldn’t conquer us, you had to scrape and bow and invite us in.

And not a single part of it had been Mollymauk’s idea.

It was only in their conversations after that Caleb realised how similar his and Molly’s positions had been, how every small part of that day had been meticulously planned, discussed and executed without any input from them, like they were actors who’d just been handed lines and directions and told to get on with it and not miss a single step.

Which was the exact reason why today had to happen.

Now it was clear, no one had chosen anything for Mollymauk today, it was all of his own free will. And he’d chosen so well. The dress was white, like the sands he stood on, with a panel of lace across his shoulders and plunging down his chest, like he’d been stood in a snowstorm and the flakes were slowly coalescing against his skin. Compared to how he’d looked in the temple all those months ago, he was wearing hardly any jewellery, just his favourite rings and clasps of niello engraved silver around his horns. And of course his moon necklace, tucked safely in the hollow of his throat, proudly on display for everyone who cared to look. The sign of the Moonweaver’s favour.

It was her rites that were joining them today so Caleb didn’t think she’d mind too much that the very first thing he did upon taking his place was sweep Mollymauk into his arms and kiss him boldly. The tiefling only giggled lightly against his lips before returning the embrace with as much enthusiasm. It took a none too delicate clearing of Caduceus’ throat to bring them apart.

Caleb mouthed an apology to the bemused cleric before beaming at Mollymauk, who’d demurely took a step back and settled for clasping his beloved’s hands in his own. The two of them couldn’t stop smiling at each other, as if both stunned and overjoyed to be here, together. And no one could deny them either of those emotions, not after everything they’d been through.

Seeing no reason to delay it any longer, with both grooms present and correct and behaving themselves, Caduceus raised his hands for the assembled to quiet and began the rites. He’d graciously agreed to act as their cleric, taking a very temporary leave of absence from his Wildmother to join them in the name of another goddess. They would have asked Jester but promptly realised that the gods only knew what kind of inappropriate anecdotes would make it into her address if she’d been allowed to give it.

Though he’d feel guilty about it later, Caleb took little to no notice of the ceremony. He gave the right responses at the right times, he’d thrown his handful of power into the firepit alongside Mollymauk’s, sending the flames arching up in a burst of jade green. He had a moment of confusion, alongside the rest of the guests, when he realised Caduceus had ambled off in his speech into a lecture on the hierarchical family structure of bees. But while his brain sent him through the right motions, his heart was straining towards Mollymauk, thinking only of the tender pressure of his hand in Caleb’s own, the way he could feel his rapid, excited pulse through his wrist, how he too couldn’t hold back his excited grin, a twin to Caleb’s.

He damn near missed the moment they actually became husbands, in heart rather than just in name. But the managed to catch it, cling to it, get pulled along into a wildly passionate kiss from Mollymauk that nearly lifted him right off his feet and overbalanced them into the sand.

And it was done. Something inside Caleb suddenly felt whole when he’d never even realised there had been an absence there.

Just as it had last time, the future was firmly on his mind during the wedding. But whereas last time, it had been something sharp and unwieldy, something he’d been forced to hold even as everything inside him wanted to reel away. It had been the hypothetical spectre at the actual feast. This time, as he sat on a large piece of driftwood and watched the day turn to dusk, wriggling his bare toes in the sand and loosening his shirt, the future was like the fading sunlight on his skin. It was as present and woven into the day as the sprightly music that drifted along the beach, softer and quieter now he’d distanced himself from the revels for a breath of fresh, quiet air. Caleb could sit and marvel at the fact that he and Mollymauk were going to be together forever. They were going to be happy. Everything was going to be okay.

“I wondered where you’d got to.”

Caleb turned, not even starting, not even a little. He’d been expecting Molly to follow him after a little while.

If anything, the tiefling only looked more gorgeous, now his hair had come loose after so much dancing and his boots had been abandoned a while ago and his skirts had been hiked up and knotted just above his tail to free his legs for some of the wilder wedding dances that folk from these parts loved and had rendered Caleb a wheezing, red faced, giggle wracked mess.

“I’m having a good time,” Caleb smiled, before his husband could worry, “I just needed a moment.”

Mollymauk nodded, coming and sitting on the white, smooth log beside him. With a soft sigh, he leaned against Caleb’s shoulder and watched the waves with him. Far behind them, the party continued under the colourful paper lanterns and swinging flower garlands, his friends alongside people Molly knew from his youth in the city, all talking and drinking, dancing and singing, delighted at the opportunity to welcome their young lord home. Not a single title or tract of land between them and it was the best party Caleb had been to in his life.

“We can head home soon if you like,” Molly hummed softly, taking Caleb’s hand, “You can read to me.”

“That would be nice…” Caleb started, “Though…I would like to have sex at some point? A lot of it.”

Molly laughed, kissing his cheek, “Look how I’ve corrupted you. Both of those things can be very easily arranged, my lord Archmage.”

He chuckled good naturedly, kissing his twice-over husband in return, “I suppose I’m just Caleb now. No more titles. No more ‘lord’. Just Caleb…”

The tiefling’s eyes were warm in the gathering dark, like the lanterns far behind them.

“You are never just anything, Caleb.”

This time, when their lips came together, it wasn’t teasing or playful or light. It was a promise.

Though the day disappeared and night drew in, the future was bright.

Five years later.

The plaza was warm, heat shimmering off the cobblestones, the orange glow of the gathering evening making the city feel like a half-baked loaf in an oven. But soon the evening would come and the heat would disappear. The folk milling around the open space, splashing water from the fountain on their faces to cool themselves, packing down their market stalls or else conducting a few last minute transactions, wandering from work to home, they all took solace in that fact.

Though it wasn’t much comfort to the over warm, impatient baby squirming in Caleb’s arms.

“When is daddy’s show?” the little boy whined, pressing his face to the front of his father’s shirt.

“Soon, little man,” Caleb soothed, brushing the violet curls back from his forehead, tucking them behind his budding horns to help cool his glowing lavender cheeks, “We just have to wait a little more.”

The toddler, Trinket, gave a long suffering sigh as only a four year old asked to wait for five whole minutes could. Ever since the little family had arrived in Zadash, he’d been enraptured with the city, so different from the one he’d grown up in. He’d kept his fathers running ragged as he’d pulled them along on his quest to see it all. But now he was tired and grouchy.

Fortunately, he was unbelievably cute when he was grumpy.

Little Trinket was cute whenever he did anything, Caleb had been delighted to find ever since he’d first held his son in his arms, shaking with excitement and nerves.

The nerves had never really faded, the sensation that he didn’t really know what he was doing. But the joy, the excitement, the love he held for his son, had grown far quicker.

Caleb cast his eyes around the plaza. His usual seat- he still thought of it as that, even though it had been years since he’d sat in it- gave him a good vantage point of the whole area, all the folk of Zadash going through the motions of their lives.

Some things would never change.

But he also saw his husband, in his full regalia, coat and bird mask catching the setting sun in their sequins, setting up his makeshift stage.

“Look, Trinket,” he murmured, smiling, pointing as the crowd of children began to gather, flocking like sparrows, “The show’s starting.”

Sure enough, the call came ringing out across the plaza,  “Diminutive ladies and gentlemen of Zadash!Please, just a few moments of your time, if you would be so good. I promise, just a scant amount of your attention in exchange for one of the most thrilling sights you’ve ever seen in your young lives…”

Trinket gave a gasp and opened his eyes wide, standing up on short, unsteady legs in his papa’s lap so he could see better.

The show was unchanged, it went through the same beats. The swords dancing through the air, coming a bare inch from slicing into Mollymauk, if he wasn’t as fast as lightning itself. The gasps of amazement from the crowd of assembled children at each new trick, joy when a shiny gold piece was pressed into their outstretched palms.

Watching it was even more entertaining with their son in his arms, listening to him hoot and gasp and yell in elation along with the rest of the audience. Caleb smiled and chuckled fondly, holding him safe so he didn’t go tipping onto the cobblestones in his excitement.

In the middle of his performance, Mollymauk looked across the plaza and caught Caleb’s eye.

Suddenly, he felt himself split into two distinct versions of himself. The shy, awkward, exhausted man he’d been all those years ago, eyes wide and jaw slack as he saw this new side to the person he’d been tasked to marry. Thin, waifish and so, so scared.

And who he was now. Taller, beard thick along his jawline, eyes bright and creased in the corners with five years’ worth of laughter. A man with love in his life.

In short, a very, very lucky man.

He winked at Mollymauk.

Some things never changed. But some things changed an awful lot.

[jcmorgenstern]

Ok bc I’m procrastinating for studying for the exam I have (tomorrow) and have thoughts:

I’ve been seeing a lot of really interesting discussion around the jonathan/jace bond in the books vs the jonathan/clary bond (namely a really interesting point from @grayacejace about clary’s agency) and despite my obvious bias it got me thinking. I feel like as a fandom we sometimes rag on CC making Clary an obvious self-insert, I think there’s something exceedingly genre-appropriate about it, and it’s a deliberate choice that works in a way where shadow hunters’ choice to treat Clary as the hero and determinant of her narrative also works in its own context.

What I often forget is that TSC are for kids, specifically, I would argue, young girls. When I was 14 and reading Harry Potter I wasn’t analyzing every frame for social meaning, I was imagining myself along for the ride with Harry and his friends and how amazing it would be to be part of their adventure. I’m not sure if this is a universal experience, but I’d be willing to wager it’s not uncommon. TMI is a liberalization of that child fantasy, as well as a reflection of fan fiction genre conventions of the time. CC didn’t write Clary as a badass feminist who takes charge of her own storyline and beats up men and constantly is bowed down by the weight of the world …you know.

She wrote Clary as a pair of eyes through which little girls could experience the wonder and excitement of being part of the fantasy narrative they’re so often excluded from. Clary fits the bill for every Mary Sue self-insert because she is one, and that’s intentional—and not necessarily something to make fun of. She’s the daughter of the main villain and has special powers and has this instant and intensely romantic connection with a boy pretty much tailor-made for 2003 pre-teen girls. Clary in the books is CC drawing on the conventions of literary tradition of fan fiction from that time—she is not as much the main character but the avatar through which young girls can experience being special and going on amazing adventures.

Which isn’t to say there’s no feminist or critical message and all fan fiction and self-insert fic is just stupid mental cotton candy. There’s a strong sense of wistfulness and struggle with femininity that I think is one of the most subtle but powerful parts of the books—Clary describing her femininity as “a housewarming gift she doesn’t know what to do with.” CC’s depiction and subversion of femininity is actually quite fascinating even in her missteps (the rivalry with Izzy, for example), though honestly lbr we probably were all like that at 16, for better or worse. Clary’s relationship with Jace is, I think, telling girls what they should hold out for in a partner, that they can deserve someone who makes them feel special. Jonathan is an inversion of Jace who is deceptively attractive but treats Clary like shit and is, lets be honest, sexist as fuck, among other things. He’s dressed as the fairytale ending she’s promised with Jace but is actually something toxic and evil. Dru’s storyline in TDA reads as intensely personal and emotional—a girl constantly excluded and sidelined, because of her age and her weight and her general introversion, but someone who is strong and capable and compelling—and the right people see that in her and honor her for it.

Which is a complete diversion from the point that got me here but simply put: COLS works because the message and intent and even the very narrative form fits it. I could cite a whole slew of scholarly work about about fan fiction, the female gaze, and the fan mediation of male homosociality through self-insert female characters (thanks cultural studies for making me say ‘homosociality’), but basically: it’s fitting with the fan fiction literary tradition CC is from and helped build that the female character is the avatar for the audience to observe what, okay maybe this is personal bias, is a pretty charged dynamic between Jonathan and Jace (morally or sexually, take ur pick). Clary mediates that bond and ultimately, because the books are about validating the reader (while again subverting certain expectations), Jonathan’s obsession turns to her and is ultimately revealed to be exactly what it is: toxic and evil, Jace’s association with him completely fake.

The show is operating on a different narrative paradigm, where Clary is the traditional “protagonist as hero” approach, complete with Clary’s own hero’s journey. As Dyl (@greyacejace) pointed out, in the books Clary’s storyline is often focused around others—she’s the avatar for the reader more than a character of her own. I hope I’ve convinced you that isn’t necessarily a bad or shallow thing, but the show definitely has aged up the narrative. Clary is an adult, with adult problems and challenges, and the show tackles them with varying levels of success. Now, in season 3, she is no longer the audience avatar in any way, not even for the sake of exposition—often she is telling other people expositional elements or discovering things along with us. She is not an observer but a character,  and as such the bond with Jonathan (along with pretty much every other plot element they can think of…not 100% a fan of all of that, if spoilers rumors are to be believed) has been shifted to her.

I’m not really sure “incestuous sexual obsession” is really the honor we want to be bestowing on our Strong Badass Female Characters(TM), but that’s the honor Clary gets. Personally given how the show has handled rape themes in the past I’m not exactly bursting with joy to see how they’ll tackle Clary being mind-controlled by her brother who wants to do….well, exactly that, but I guess that’s the brave new world we live in. I honestly didn’t intend to bitch THAT much about things but basically: the Clary of the books is a girl who’s biggest threat is that her father and later brother want to take her Hot Boyfriend away from her (and maybe kidnap her in hell but REALLY the big problem here is taking away her Hot Boyfriend, the rest is kind of hand-waved away). Clary of the show is an adult woman who has adult woman problems, like men who want to rape her and think of her as a particularly personable piece of furniture that will solve all his problems.

(He’s thinking of a therapist, but too dumb to know that).

Obviously there are a lot of gross simplifications here, especially of Jonathan’s character (in another universe I could and probably would write an angry meta screed slamming my own meta’s portrayal of my ‘’sweet baby boy’’ but ill leave that for another day. Was that a self-deprecating joke lamp-shading my own obnoxious stanning? Yes it was). Point is, I don’t think the two narratives are entirely comparable as they follow different narrative structures and paradigms and follow different goals with different results. Jace vs Jonathan is about how two boys react differently to abuse and nature vs nurture; Clary vs Jonathan is about the definition of heroism vs villainy and how good motives can be betrayed by bad actions and how that compares to bad motives and bad actions—whether the end can ever justify the means.

Anyway tldr leave me and my idiotic sebjace ass alone but this shit slaps too

[mtraki]

Headcanon Request: 6 Headcanons for Gilgamesh

Hmmm… I don’t have many established headcanons for our Blademaster.  The game just kind of used him as a set piece or a prop.  We don’t learn a lot about him or his real impact on the world outside of being one more ancient big bad to conquer– and that it apparently shaped Cor’s history, but even that isn’t fleshed out.  As you know, my dear, I prefer building on more original materials than blank canvases.  So here are some headcanon questions I have and my thoughts on them!

1. Gilgamesh and Ardyn?

It’s never explicitly mentioned that Gilgamesh was Ardyn’s Shield.  We assume so, because he was the Shield of the Founder King and Ardyn is the Founder King– right?  I’m not entirely convinced, though.  Ardyn was erased from history.  If anyone is remembered as the “Founder King” it would be Somnus.  Ignis mentions Ardyn as the Founder King, but Ignis would also have special access to records that managed to escape destruction.  Gilgamesh is also zealously loyal to the Lucis Caelum line and its prophecy– which Ardyn is the antagonist of.

He might have been Ardyn’s Shield, before Ardyn was stripped of power and cast aside by man and god alike…  But that leads me to my next question and theory!

2. Haunting Taelpar Crag?

The wiki suggest that Gilgamesh may have been involved in the War of the Astrals because he’s there in the wound in the Star that was caused in all the fighting.  Yeah maybe.  But why is he a ghost?  Most ghosts you fight are daemons, and as far as anybody can tell, Gilgamesh is not a daemon.  He’s a powerful spirit.  Fine.  Cool.  Why?  Why doesn’t he get to ascend into ever after?  Or is that something I’ve missed concerning the afterlife in all of FFXV? (Let me know!)  I think there are three alternatives here:

- We could go traditional “unfinished business”.  His zeal for Lucis Caelum keeps him around until the King of Kings does his prophecy thing.  This is probably what was intended, but honestly, it makes me want to throw up.  I’m so sick of how wanky this story is about that family…

- I better like the punishment alternative.  Angelgard is rumored to be where Ramuh passes judgement.  If Gilgamesh was Ardyn’s Shield, and stayed loyal to Ardyn instead of Lucis Caelum and the prophecy… perhaps he was punished for it.  Now he serves his penance to prepare the Shield of the King of Kings to be a proper fit for the prophecy, like he wasn’t.  Maybe THAT’S why he’s so overzealous and blood-thirsty about it! (And maybe that’s why he spared Cor: because Cor was there to be more useful to Lucis Caelum)  Again: super wanky, but I can only do so much without deviating from canon entirely…

- Adding on to above: maybe the opposite happened.  Maybe Ardyn was betrayed by Gilgamesh.  Nothing happened to him in life, but Ramuh was sure to judge and curse him in death for his treachery.  “You are so eager to serve Lucis Caelum?  Then see your ‘good work’ through to the end.” sort of deal…  Justice is justice, after all, and betraying a King of Lucis Caelum (even a blacklisted one) probably doesn’t come cheap.

3.  Speaking of Ghosts…

He’s got an army of ghosts who serve him.  Cor says they’re the spirits of those who dared the Tempering Grounds and died.  I usually don’t like to contradict the Marshal, but… how does he know that?  Did somebody tell him?  Does he recognize some of the corpses?  For argument’s sake, let’s just assume he’s right.  Well then that means…

4. Gilgamesh is a Wizard?

Or something.  Not only is HE a ghost, but he can a) ensure everybody he kills is trapped with him as a ghost and b) they turn from trying to defeat him to absolute loyalty to him.  So either Gilgamesh himself has some powerful magic or…

5. The Proving Grounds are Cursed?

The only people with magic, canonically, are the Oracles and Lucis Caelums.  So unless we delve into a mess where the Blademaster was one of them, it’s more likely that something is magic about the area.  It’s established that elemental/magic power can be pulled out of the ground.  Perhaps that place is a locus for pooling magic, manifesting itself as a curse, so that everyone who dies there is trapped?  Maybe that’s how Gilgamesh got there too?

6.  Gilgamesh and Cor

It’s very clear that the encounter with Gilgamesh had a very profound impact on Cor’s life– not just the cool (but shameful) moniker, but apparently the encounter humbled the hot-headed youth into the pragmatic man we know in the game.  What was also very clear to me, however, was that Cor had a very profound impact on Gilgamesh– and I don’t just mean the arm and sword thing.  As Gladio works his way through the ruins, the spirits throwing jabs and threats, they mention Cor several times.  They sound like they were impressed.  Cor even makes a self-deprecating joke about it.  I don’t think the ghosts recognize him at all, but that makes sense with ghosts anyway.  Still, somebody came through here and impressed them enough for them to remember somebody did it, even though there are corpses and swords all through that chamber you fight Gilgamesh in– so Cor wasn’t the first/only person to make it that far.  But he was the most memorable.

Cor also has the means of opening the chamber.  I don’t know if that was supposed to be something significant, but it sure looked significant and ritualistic, especially if you consider that Cor may have taken that sword from the Proving Grounds after losing his.  Even if he didn’t, I think it’s clear that Gilgamesh intended for Cor to come back.

But Cor was different, now, changed by his experiences.  He had no intentions of facing Gilgamesh again, and I think he damn well knew if he followed Gladio into that chamber, it wouldn’t have been about Gladio anymore.  Gilgamesh would recognize him, even if the other ghosts didn’t, and it would be all about Cor.  This is why Cor didn’t help with any of the trials.  Not to test Gladio, not because the ritual required it, but because he wanted to make absolutely clear to everything in these caverns that this wasn’t about him this time.

And I think Gilgamesh was honestly very disappointed.  This might just be me meta-ing again, but the resolution of the fight was really awkward and lame.  The answer to Gladio’s problem was just to believe in his own strength after all.  There you go.  You win.

Lame.  Especially considering all the people who died, who likely thought the same thing “Just believe in my strength!”  Even hot-headed young Cor probably did!

So it seems to me that Gilgamesh just kind of… phoned it in.  “Yeah, I guess that other guy really isn’t coming in… What a shame… Alright, fine, you can win… Yep, yep, whatever– Oh I know!  I’ll give you this sword that used to be his and maybe he’ll come in here and face me at last! … No?  Worth a shot…”

The Immortal has many fanboys.  I headcanon that Gilgamesh might be the original. ;)

[lifejustgotawkward]

365 Day Movie Challenge (2017) - #348: Blade Runner 2049 (2017) - dir. Denis Villeneuve

As the end credits rolled on Blade Runner 2049 last Sunday night at the Regal Union Square multiplex, I turned to my friend and asked her my usual question, “So, what did you think?” She groaned out, “that was really boring,” and the wave of relief I felt at her response was the perfect summation of my feelings.

How did Blade Runner 2049 disappoint me? Let me count the ways.

I watched Ridley Scott’s original Blade Runner (1982) back in September. I was impressed, though not bowled over, by the theatrical cut, but I still wanted to give the final cut a chance. When I got around to watching that “definitive” version, I found that I actually missed Harrison Ford’s gruff, noiresque narration from the earlier edit of the film, but overall my appreciation for Blade Runner had grown and the second viewing allowed me to focus less on the plot and to better appreciate both the acting and the technical aspects of the production.

My expectations for Blade Runner 2049 were fairly high. I was eager to see how Denis Villeneuve built on Scott’s (and, of course, writer Philip K. Dick’s) visions of dystopian Los Angeles by pushing the narrative thirty years further into the future from the first Blade Runner’s setting in 2019. Although I missed the chance to see this new installment in IMAX - hey, those tickets are expensive when you don’t have spare cash to throw around! - I knew I still had to take the time to watch the film on the big screen. No TV could possibly do justice to an epic sci-fi tale of the Blade Runner variety, at least not for an introductory experience.

Bear with me, now, when I say that Blade Runner 2049 was a massive letdown. Yes, Roger Deakins’ stunning cinematography is practically guaranteed to earn him an Oscar nomination. And yes, the art direction, production design and set decoration further supports Denis Villeneuve‘s strengths regarding compelling visuals. I would also be totally fine with Renée April getting an Oscar nomination for costume design since the coat that Officer K (Ryan Gosling) wears throughout the film is incredible. Unfortunately, for the third year in a row (after Sicario and Arrival) my hopes for Villeneuve’s work have been dashed. For three years running he has fallen short of his ambitious ideas, whether attempting to concentrate on an idealistic DEA agent (Emily Blunt in Sicario), a linguist simultaneously mourning the death of her daughter and trying to make contact with aliens (Amy Adams in Arrival) or a Replicant Blade Runner (Ryan Gosling in Blade Runner 2049) who unravels a mystery about a female Replicant who was able to bear a child. All of these protagonists should be worthy of my undivided attention. Instead, Gosling - like one of Nexus’s new edition of Replicants - is just another in a continuing line of failed leads.

Part of the issue is Ryan Gosling’s own fault. In interviews I find him absolutely delightful, a funny and self-deprecating guy with a nicely offbeat sense of humor; in movies he is unremittingly bland. Whether we’re talking about The Notebook or Crazy, Stupid, Love or The Big Short, he never seems to have any discernible personality on film. It makes sense, then, that he would be chosen to play an android in Blade Runner 2049. But what does it say that he didn’t even play Officer K well? Replicants can be portrayed with emotion, if you recall Rutger Hauer, Sean Young, Daryl Hannah, Brion James and Joanna Cassidy in the original Blade Runner. Each actor breathed life into their characters in unique styles. So why couldn’t Villeneuve and screenwriters Hampton Fancher and Michael Green find a way to inject some flavor into their film’s characters?

The posters for Blade Runner 2049 imply that Harrison Ford and Jared Leto play important roles in the film, but in actuality, Leto’s “antagonist,” Niander Wallace, barely has any screen time and Ford’s returning antihero, Rick Deckard, doesn’t show up until the last third of the film. I enjoyed every moment he was onscreen, spitting his dialogue out with the same jaded sarcasm he had in the first film, but I wish the character had had more time to develop in the film. Wallace bears an undistinguished aura of evil, but what was supposed to be so special about him? Given the spotlight often put on his sightless eyes during “creepy” closeups, was his blindness really intended to be read as part of what defined him as bad (in which case, uh, what is that saying about disabilities)?

Next we have to take a look at the women of Blade Runner 2049. There are six notable female characters: Joi (Ana de Armas), a hologram who is a product created by Niander Wallace and who functions solely as K’s live-in girlfriend; Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), a Replicant who acts as Niander Wallace’s right-hand woman; Lieutenant Joshi (Robin Wright), K’s supervisor on the police force; Mariette (Mackenzie Davis), a "pleasure model” Replicant; Dr. Ana Stelline (Carla Juri), who works for the Wallace corporation in a capacity that I shouldn’t spoil for those who have not seen the film; and Freysa (Hiam Abbass), who plays a role that I similarly should not divulge. Of these six, Joi and Ana Stelline are the most sympathetic characters, but regardless of how these women’s actions are meant to be interpreted, the designs of these ladies are problematic.

Joi is an immediately likeable character, but since she is a product (and one who does not initially have a corporeal form), she does not have autonomy. With the push of a button, K can turn her off any time he wants, which I’m sure is an option a lot of dudes wish they had available for their girlfriends. Joi exists only to serve K, telling him how wonderful he is when he gets home from a long work day and providing whatever eye candy he desires (she can shapeshift to alter her clothing, hair and makeup). Should I ignore the fact that Joi has zero character development and applaud Blade Runner 2049 anyway for highlighting the ickiness of a future society where Joi-models are prevalent (thus eliminating the need for actual human women)? Maybe, but the film doesn’t bother to make a statement about this element of social interaction, other than the fact that it exists.

K is finally able to experience physical contact with Joi when she “syncs” with Mariette, a prostitute, to combine their bodies for a sexual encounter with K, resulting in my favorite shot in the film: an unsettling image of Joi and Mariette’s four blurry hands wrapping around the back of K’s head and caressing his hair. While this interlude incorporates an interesting degree of romantic intrigue - to what extent do K, Joi and Mariette understand what love is? - there is something a little too weird in the film’s dependence on the Madonna and Whore tropes, suggesting an either/or dichotomy where the only time a woman can possess both attributes is when she finds another person (technically a Replicant) who can temporarily provide the missing skills.

Luv is probably the best-developed female character, although since she is Niander Wallace’s servant, it is impossible to say where her allegiance to him ends and her own taste for violent retribution begins. Luv seems to genuinely savor hurting people, but I suppose that attitude was programmed into her by Wallace, which somewhat minimizes the cool factor in her badass fight scenes. It’s kind of odd, though, that she manages to outshine the film’s other resident tough gal, Lt. Joshi (I didn’t think anyone could outdo Robin Wright in this department, especially after Wonder Woman). Villeneuve and his writers couldn’t settle on how best to represent Joshi, so the character fluctuates between a generically butch stereotype and a leering boss who drinks too much and flirts with K. Again, not that women have to be only one thing, but I like consistency in characters rather than mixed messages. I wonder how much of Blade Runner 2049′s muddled and archaic depictions of women are thanks to Hampton Fancher, who also co-wrote the original Blade Runner’s screenplay, which was full of troublesome approaches to womanhood, sexuality and sexual consent.

In the end, the difference between Blade Runner and Blade Runner 2049 is like the distinction between a human being and a Replicant. 2049 tries to live up to the originality of that which inspired it, but it lacks the soul of its predecessor. It really says something that the most heartfelt moments in Blade Runner 2049 are two references to Ridley Scott’s film: a pivotal scene in Wallace’s lair that conjures up the memory of Rachael (Sean Young) from the film, and a moment in the penultimate scene that reuses a key piece of music from Vangelis’s original Blade Runner score. I recognize that many viewers see Blade Runner 2049 as a masterpiece, and I have tried many times in the past week to understand why, but I’m hard-pressed to comprehend why I should have spent close to three hours sitting through such an unsatisfying project, other than being able to say I bravely weathered this particular storm.

P.S. (because I couldn’t figure out where else to write this): I don’t know how many viewers will know where I’m coming from, but for the cult classic freaks out there, let me propose this theory: Blade Runner 2049 is trying to be like Paul Morrissey’s notoriously wild horror-satire Flesh for Frankenstein (1973). Check it out: a really bizarre and wealthy man (Udo Kier/Jared Leto) and his devoted assistant (Arno Juerging/Sylvia Hoeks) endeavor to construct a set of superhumans (FfF) or humanoid robots (B42049), entities that will give birth to a new generation of superbeings that will take the place of their inferior progenitors and obediently do their master’s (Kier/Leto) bidding. In fact, there are two specific scenes that reminded me of Flesh for Frankenstein while watching Blade Runner 2049: when Niander Wallace kills the naked, infertile Replicant woman (ugh, what a terrible scene), it mirrors a moment in Flesh when Arno Juerging, the loyal assistant, tries to commence sex with Baron Frankenstein’s female zombie-monster by punching her in the stomach and fatally damaging her internal organs, resulting in a grotesque display of violence similar to what we see in Blade Runner 2049.

Secondly, when Luv battles K at the sea wall and she kisses him, she is mimicking an action that Niander Wallace carried out when he killed the Replicant woman; this is also reminiscent of Flesh for Frankenstein since the Arno Juerging character often does horrible, perverse things - like conflating his lust for the female zombie with a disturbingly compulsion for violence - because he is following his master’s patterns. Take all that analysis for what it’s worth, Blade Runner fans!

P.P.S. I am also convinced that Blade Runner 2049′s Las Vegas wasteland scene was either an homage to or a ripoff of Nastassja Kinski’s desert dream sequence from another of 1982′s finest cult offerings, Cat People. Even in the slightly faded YouTube upload of the clip, the orangeness cannot be overlooked.

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I have to confess that there seems to be a persistent fandom perception that Keith’s dad was an awful person and cruel parent or that, at best, he up and ditched Keith willfully for possibly a nebulously well-intended reason.

Which... confuses me, honestly.

Like. Let’s just look at s2e8 and what that told us.

First: Keith still cares about his father. He would not have seen his dad in that scenario afterward. Kolivan states the suit plays on Keith’s greatest fears and greatest hopes. One of Keith’s greatest hopes is seeing his father again. When the image of his dad asks if Keith wants to catch up, Keith’s response, without hesitation, is, “of course I do.” He looks hurt his dad would even consider Keith turning him away.

Look at that face. That’s not just “I don’t understand totally what’s going on here,” that’s “Dad, how could you even insinuate I don���t want you here?”

And honestly, the image of Keith’s dad lives up to that. Yes, he seems shady and manipulative in some ways, trying to play Keith’s emotions to manipulate Keith’s decisions, but we can probably rule that out as part of the real Dad Kogane’s personality- because hologram Shiro does the same thing. The purpose of these figures during the trial is to use familiar faces to pull Keith’s heartstrings. To make it harder for him to say no to them than the faceless, unfamiliar Marmora soldiers.

Hologram Shiro is the same way- detached, unconcerned, sort of smirky, and wants his way over what Keith wants. We see an incredible contrast between holo Shiro and the real one- the real one who asserts with certainty that Keith would never give up and who refuses to separate Keith from the knife even if it means singlehandedly fighting every Blade member on the base trying to get to Red in time. Which, remember, they have a narrow window to enter and exit the base safely.

And I think other evidence stands that this is not remotely who the real Dad Kogane is as a person.

First of all, once again: Keith, confronted by his father again with no context, is not angry. Not even once. His immediate response is of course he wants his dad back. Of course he wants to talk. Keith- of the relentless priorities, and the case of objective-based tunnel vision- who pilots the super-fast instinct-focused Lion that specializes on leaping on and responding to situations at top speed- actually hesitates and lingers in that dream of the shed, because reconnecting with his father is that important to him.

Keith has definitely been angry at people potentially leaving him before. Look at the way he blew up at Pidge. It’s not that Keith is suppressing or holding back anger towards his father. 

There’s also the fact that, powerfully, much like the image of Shiro: the hologram of Dad Kogane appears during the trial because Keith is suffering and heavily injured. Specifically Shiro- who, Keith looks up to Shiro. Keith adores Shiro, and has valued him as a source of advice and stability. (“If it weren’t for you, my life would’ve been a lot different.”)

Keith is hurt, down, exhausted and alone. His brain is trying to pull people who are comforting. People he feels are, or were, trustworthy, supporting, there for him in times of need. And he comes up with Shiro, and his father.

This does not remotely illustrate his father as negligent, harsh, or distant. If anything it would tell us that Dad Kogane was very close to Keith. It would suggest, much like the real Shiro was much more concerned with Keith, and much more horrified at Keith’s injured state- that very likely the real Dad Kogane would not interact with a heavily injured Keith that way, or try to press him between reconnecting or going to be a paladin.

If anything, there’s the matter of how the suit tries to pass its manipulations as Shiro, vs. how it does Keith’s father.

With Shiro, the hologram appeals through Shiro’s sense of duty and how Keith looks to him as a guide. “You’re making the wrong choice,” “you’re driving the other paladins away from you” “I’m here to try and help you get back on the right track.” It uses his snappiness- and Shiro can be quite snappy, look at his whole response to Kolivan in that episode- to drive a sense of urgency.

In contrast, hologram Dad Kogane is completely calm. The entire time. When Keith starts wavering towards the other choice, the hologram of his father doesn’t get angry- rather, he seems to fold inwards- he gets sad. Unlike holo Shiro, who forces the issue- if Keith won’t immediately choose him then he’s going to leave- Keith’s father watches him go. Quietly, without struggle or protest.

This tells us that even with the suit trying to use him as manipulation, it would be incredibly unlike Keith’s father to lose his temper at Keith- to a point that it would break Keith’s immersion and make him realize immediately this is not his father. The suit can’t make a convincingly angry Dad Kogane.

The threads I’m seeing here are a well-meaning, soft-spoken individual who Keith remembers as gentle, reassuring, and a protective force- “We’ll be safe as long as we stay here.” That’s what Keith views his father as- a protective force. And this is such a powerful memory that even having gone on as an adult and witnessed the galra empire- in dream logic, it makes perfect sense that Keith’s dad, and the shack, could protect him from the storming, marching empire.

And once again, unlike holo Shiro, the hologram of Dad Kogane is willing to stay there as long as Keith wants him to. The impetus to break that interaction off is on Keith, and Keith alone. And in case we weren’t convinced Keith wants nothing more than to reconnect with his father, that tiny, heartbroken, “Goodbye, Dad,” is telling enough.

Keith isn’t mad at his father. He misses him, terribly. The implication seems to be that he vanished, rather than he died- but I’m very suspicious that the episode that introduces him draws parallels between him and Shiro. Because Shiro is also, definitely, a figure that vanished from Keith’s life, but that was because he was forcibly abducted from the empire. He agreed to leave, in that he agreed to go on the mission in the first place, knowing it would take him away from Keith, but he had every intention of coming right back. That it would be a month, maybe, but nothing like a year. 

And while we can’t really make unbiased judgments on how Keith’s parents feel about him, I’ve mentioned before that there seems to be a connection between Keith’s father and the shack. That the dream chooses to put it there, and that this is the designated safe place the empire cannot reach.

Basically, we have these kind of inanimate tokens that seem to hearken back to Keith’s parents: the knife, and the shack, and Keith’s interactions with these places have been in a sense, nurturing.

The knife guides Keith to the Blade- while it’s a rocky reception, the knife is also what settles the dispute by awakening for Keith. It guides him to more information about himself, and it’s stayed by his side the entire time, when seemingly, very little else has. As a weapon and as a tool, he’s used it to protect himself and to fight.

If this is indicative of Keith’s mother, it would paint a picture of someone who is maybe not comforting and reassuring, but viciously and tenaciously in Keith’s corner. The knife activates in his grip just as he’s about to give it up- almost like someone else going “Nope, not happening, you’re worthy, you don’t get to back out because you don’t think you’re all that.” Possibly, Keith’s mom is or was someone who helped reveal things to him, which would make sense, if she was a Marmoran- they do have their thing of knowledge or death, and prioritize that knowledge very highly.

Ironically, this is a lot of how the Red Lion interacts with Keith- Red is not very good at being reassuring, but she’ll fight tooth and nail to protect Keith and help him accomplish his goals- and in s2e8, she not only appears in Keith’s dream, but during that scene, when he loses consciousness, Red starts trying to tear the base apart to get to him.

But if Keith’s father is connected to, and potentially the original builder of the desert shack... The shack was basically a final bastion Keith didn’t even know that he had. He felt “called” out to it, possibly by Blue, but possibly by a separate force drawing him to the shack itself. It was humble, it was small- but a safe place to hide and somewhere he could make his base of operations. When Keith thought he had nothing left, losing Shiro and the Garrison, he goes out into the desert and... it was waiting for him.

It’s a humble little place. It’s not much. Like the very sheepish way Dad Kogane presents himself- it does not suggest, historically, he’s someone who sees himself as a very big deal. And yet that humble little building arguably went up against some intimidating forces. If the bike was with the shack, then implicitly what Dad Kogane left behind was key in Keith challenging, taking Shiro from, and escaping the Garrison- and then hid them from the Garrison for at least twelve hours, if not longer.

Reading this as a study in Dad Kogane’s character and his relationship with Keith, if we can read the knife as Keith’s relationship with his mother, it would suggest that Dad Kogane is not the informant or the fighter that his partner is. “Knowledge or death” is not how he operates. And compared to the glossy, cool-looking ceremonial blade made of rare space metal, the shack and the bike, even if they seem to have hidden properties or capabilities- the bike in particular is pretty high-caliber- are very dull and shabby-looking. If anything, they’re so shabby it belies those capabilities.

(Some self-deprecation issues there, Dad Kogane..?)

But somewhere to live, a shelter and a hiding place, would reinforce what was suggested in the hologram- that Dad Kogane cared most about safety, and protecting Keith specifically. Taking the bike and the shack together, it’d suggest that while Mom Kogane left behind a window to Keith’s history, and a means to defend himself- a rigidly practical gift- Dad Kogane was more worried about if something went wrong, and wanted to give Keith both somewhere to hide and a way to run if anything was chasing him.

With my theory that Dad Kogane was an outsider coming from space, that difference in priorities could well explain when and where Keith’s parents split up. Mom Kogane, the fighter, went to challenge whatever was pursuing them, and put her back to Keith and Dad Kogane- whatever was coming it wasn’t getting through her. Comparatively, Dad Kogane, the protector, took Keith and ran, eventually coming to Earth, which, for all the same reasons the shack might appeal to someone, Earth was the same way- forgettable, quiet, a needle in a haystack to find. The empire only found it because the empire’ been going through the universe one strand of hay at a time, and eventually they’d hit the needle anyway. They brute forced it, basically.

But all of the items left behind by Keith’s parents suggest that somehow, they felt that they couldn’t be with him, but wanted him to be okay anyway. There is a thread of implied sacrifice to both the bike and the sword.

The Marmorans that we’ve seen, even at the highest level, only carry one sword. If Mom Kogane’s weapon is with Keith- well, there’s a reason the members of the Blade reacted so harshly. That’s an agent’s last line of defense, not in that agent’s hands. Possibly, like Ulaz or Thace, Mom Kogane did not intend to survive whatever she was doing for Keith’s sake- though whether or not she did survive is a different question.

And if Dad Kogane is not a fighter, if he would much rather run than face confrontation, if the bike was at the shack for Keith, it means he wasn’t using it. And it doesn’t make much sense for someone who seems to have held Keith as such a high priority, who Keith remembers as someone who would keep him safe no matter what they were dealing with, to just walk out.

I think again, about the parallels drawn between him and Shiro- that he might have intended to leave, but only for a short time, only to be caught up by a larger force that took him off-guard.

But I also have to wonder if something else was coming and Dad Kogane left to divert it.

I mean. There’s a lot of peculiar things afoot and I don’t think we can know for sure at this point what caused it, but to bring this back around to where the post started: while we don’t know for sure how or why Dad Kogane disappeared, from what we can tell, we have no reason to suspect he was a bad parent pre-disappearance, and it’s pretty obvious Keith is more hurt and missing him than he is angry and “well screw you for giving me trauma, I’m fine without you”