#reading per la pace

[marcogiovenale]

28 aprile, roma: radici di pace - incontro per sos children's villages palestine

cliccare per ingrandire Metteremo fine al genere umano o l’umanità saprà rinunciare alla guerra? Bertrand Russel, Albert Einstein, 1955 Noi, popoli delle Nazioni Unite, decisi a salvare le future generazioni dal flagello della guerra, che per due volte nel corso di questa generazione ha portato indicibili afflizioni all’umanità, a riaffermare la fede nei diritti fondamentali dell’uomo, nella…

[reasonsforhope]

"At the University of Maine, one of the world’s largest 3D printers is using sawdust from the state’s lumber industry to 3D print cozy wooden cabins.

It’s part of a move towards making 3D printing faster and more sustainable in a state where the housing shortage that has metastasized in most states around the country is dire.

It’s thought that 80,000 new homes will be needed over the next 5 years to keep pace with demand, and though it takes years for building codes to be changed, the technicians at the Advanced Structures & Composites Center (ASCC) at the Univ. of Maine hope their new toy can help address this need.

Guinness World Records certified the machine at ASCC as the world’s largest prototype polymer 3D printer, capable of creating a 600 square foot house 96 feet in length, 36 feet in width, and 18 feet tall entirely out of bio-based material at a rate of 500 pounds per hour.

In 2022, it could print the walls, floors, and roof of the house in just 96 hours, but the ACSS has been refining the design with the hope of doubling the printing speed and getting it down to a 48-hour timeline.

“When they’re doing concrete, they’re only printing the walls,” Habib Dagher, the executive director of ACSS told CNN. “The approach we’ve taken is quite different from what you’ve seen, and you’ve been reading about for years.”

Indeed, GNN has reported on a fair number of 3D printing projects, but most if not all involve printing only the walls. One fantastical exception is an Italian firm that is 3D-printing domed, beehive-like, modular concept homes inspired by the Great Enclosure in Zimbabwe.

STAND-OUT 3D-PRINTING PROJECTS: 

First 2-Story Home to be 3D Printed in the U.S. Reaches for the Sky in Texas 

The World’s Largest 3D Printed Building is a Horse Barn That Can Endure Florida Hurricanes

This 23-Year-Old Founder is 3D Printing Schools in Madagascar Aiming to be a ‘Stepping Stone’ for the Community

A Startup Is Using Recycled Plastic to 3D Print Tiny $25,000 Prefabricated Homes in LA

The ASCC is calling the house design the BioHome3D, and says it’s rare people who tour the concept version don’t ask when they “can have one up?”

The interior gives the feel of a modern Scandinavian wooden cabin, making it fit well with the Maine aesthetic. The ASCC is now doing work on how to incorporate conduits for wiring and plumbing “exactly where an architect would want them,” says Dagher.

WATCH a time-lapse video of the printer doing the job…

-via Good News Network, August 16, 2024. Video via The University of Maine, March 3, 2023.

[squarebracket-trickster]

Okay, this started as a rant on another post but then i figured it wasn't fair to inflict that on OP. I don't even know OP. So uhhh...

I am, at this point, completely convinced that the people who advise against headhopping, beige prose, purple prose, and infodumping, and the people who love headhopping, beige prose, purple prose, and infodumping are using two different definitions of the words.

Because do you really enjoy reading published novels where you can't tell whose thoughts belong to whom? Do you really enjoy prose that is choppy, vague, awkward, and lacks enough detail to actually follow the story? Do you really enjoy prose that keeps using big, fancy words but it is clear the author doesn't actually know what they mean, or uses run-on sentences that are dizzying to try and make sense of? Do you really enjoy having your high-paced action scene interrupted by 6 pages straight of technical jargon with absolutely no attempt to incorporate it naturally into the story (and like two paragraph breaks across the whole 6 pages)?

On the other hand...

Do you really hate every single case of Omniscient POV you have ever read - did you hate Narnia, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Pride and Prejudice because of the POV? Do you really find sparse, accessible, "quick and snappy" prose that off-putting? Do you hate poetry - can you seriously not think of any examples of vivid, flowing prose chalk-full of literary devices (metaphor, zeugma etc.) that spoke to you? Have you really never enjoyed a paragraph here and there where a scifi writer explains exactly how their weird alien is biologically possible? Have you? Do you?

(Okay, okay. I know this is Tumblr. If anyone actually bothers to read this rant (hahaha) some little edgy contrarian is going to appear in the notes eventually but IN GENERAL)...

Long story short I think we have two different definitions of all these terms running around.

Headhopping

When the narrator describes the thoughts of more than one character per paragraph (or scene).

When the narrator describes the thoughts of more than one character per paragraph (or scene) in a way that makes it difficult to tell who is thinking and experiences what. It is confusing to the reader.

Beige prose

Simple, sparse, accessible, to the point, only conveying the tip of the iceberg.

Choppy, awkward, vague, missing critical information, sacrificing clarity for the sake of simplicity.

Purple prose

Poetic, flowery and/or vivid language, long complex sentences, a tendency toward the dramatic.

Language that is "too flowery" - fancy, rare words used incorrectly, or which don't make sense given the tone, mood, atmosphere, genre, style etc, or which make it hard to follow what is happening. Run-ons and sentences that are dizzying to make sense of. Melodrama, aka dramatic without adequate build up.

Infodumping

Explaining details that aren't necessary for the story. Taking a few paragraphs, maybe a page or two, at an appropriate moment in the story (even a whole chapter if it is built-up to correctly). This can be in the text itself or it can be in an appendix or prologue (à la Concerning Hobbits)

Explaining details that aren't necessary for the story. Taking a few paragraphs, maybe even several pages, at an inappropriate moment in the story. It interrupts the flow and pacing. There is no effort to weave or incorporate the information into the story. It is just dumped there.

And yeah, I just think we could solve so much discourse if we acknowledged that we aren't all using the same definitions.

[sgiandubh]

Di solito non seguo le presenze occasionali di bionde o brune accanto a Sam. Nel corso degli anni sono rimasta in attesa di vedere tornare quella scintilla nei suoi occhi, lo sguardo da ragazzo/ uomo gentile dei primi anni. Caitriona ha indossato da tempo la maschera che toglie saltuariamente . Speravo che dopo le foto del funerale del padre l'era delle cazzate fosse finita. Evidentemente no. L'idiozia di queste rappresentazioni sta raggiungendo altezze irraggiungibili. Meglio sarebbe ignorare. E meglio sarebbe per entrambi leggere i post che li riguardano e che non rappresentano un pericolo per la loro vita reale. Forse pensano che tutto finira’ ma come saranno ricordati? . Per che cosa vogliono essere ricordati? Grazie per la tua ragionevolezza e sincerità.

Dear (returning) @findanserwers,

Grazie mille. Il problema che poni è importante: è così che vorrebbero essere ricordati? Spero di no. Altrimenti nemmeno Santa Rita potrebbe aiutarli. Entrambi.

Tradurrò prima il tuo contributo, poi la mia risposta.

' I usually do not follow the occasional blonde or brunette spotted next to Sam. Over time, I waited to see again that sparkle in his eyes, that boyish gentle gaze of early years. It's been a while Caitriona put on a mask, she does take off from time to time. I was hoping that after her father's funeral the fuckery era was over. It's obviously not the case. The idiocy of the show has reached unattainable heights. Better to ignore. And even better if they could read those posts that concern them and do not represent a danger for their real life. Perhaps they think it will all be over but how will they be remembered and for what? Thank you for being reasonable and honest.'

For our Anglophone friends, I answered:

'Thank you very much. The problem you are raising is important: is this how they would like to be remembered?

I hope not. Otherwise not even Saint Rita could help them. Both of them'.

Dear @findanserwers, money and fame do things to people. Compared to so many others, politicians included, they still look like dazed and confused amateurs. Yes, after all those years. Underneath that Constipated Matron and that Clueless Manwhore, those people still exist, somewhere. Sometimes, all it takes is just a walk in the park to get an unexpected glimpse of it. But we don't see them anymore. This is their rambunctious story. This is the life they have chosen to live. And these are also their perennial PR problems.

Un bacione. Pace e Bene.

[nozomijoestar]

AFTER 8 MONTHS OF WRITING AND NONSENSE AND WRITING- I PRESENT 'LA VIE EN ROSE' PART 1

ASULILI NATION MAKE SOME NOISEEEE | thanks to @scalproie , @headlessstar , @pettyeti for your encouragement and feedback

Summary:

'The Seventh Iron Fist Tournament has ended. In its aftermath under the Mishima-G Corp conflicts, the world lays fractured into ravaged wastelands and pockets of civilization under a facade of normalcy. Asuka Kazama returns home, reminded there is no ground she can stand on untouched. And with persistent Lili sticking like a bad itch, their entwined fates form her a lone island.'

-

20k words per part from here on. Three parts total. I will be building the events between Tekken 7's ending for Asuka and Lili into just before Tekken 8 would start. I will be using canon, Harada's statements, and my two essays I recommend reading as guides.

Asuka Essay | Lili Essay

PLAYLIST GO BRRRRRRR

EDIT: I decided to also just dump the entire part 1 on tumblr then decide how I wanna share the rest moving forward

NEW: PART 2 POST | Ao3 Ver.

---

1 SE BATTRE C'EST TOUS

She held her breath and the numbers came. One, two, three, four, five…she could still smell the roses piled in the training hall. Sighing she opened her eyes and paced, arms crossed, around and around the doorway until she tripped over a shoe. Asuka threw out her hands, let herself collapse then slide down the wall into a slump. Tightness gripped her chest as she chewed her bottom lip. First had been the roses, roses of every color, size, and shape she’d never attempt counting. Everything was polished blinding like the sun and all things broken were now shiny replacements; Asuka still had no idea which button on the new microwave simply heated her leftovers.

Next had been coming home, standing in their kitchen, to watch Dad’s face worn and lined face split with a grin. The pile of bills that used to sit on the table had vanished, becoming a single check he’d waved like it’d disappear. Then of course Lili didn’t even bother showing up with her for any of it; creating yet another mess before pulling out of reach. The confused silences punctuating arguments between them over the flight home were broken when they’d landed at the airport. ‘Return ahead of me Asuka Kazama. I need a day to arrange my things.’ Lili had said, wearing a smirk before flipping her hair and strutting away. The once in a lifetime thrill at hot meals and extending seats aboard first class had evaporated. How the hell did you respond to that? So she’d braced herself and crossed the threshold of her house, alone.

Now she was crouched here, her mind in knots. Dad would probably be halfway done shopping for the huge welcome party dinner he’d bragged about. They needed to thank Lili properly, of course, his eyes seeming to go right through Asuka when he said so. To the end no matter how she protested or hovered over his limping strolls from point A to point B, he gave her a glare. Said that he’d taken her coddling for too long; the doctors had discharged him for a reason. Her hand curled a fist but stopped short of hitting the wall. No point in ruining what was indeed fixed, even if it could be fixed again. No way would she create another reason for Lili to call her a brute. Then the rumble and crunch of a car tire beyond the door perked up her ears; snapping her from her stillness.

Asuka looked through the peephole.

The white off Lili’s limo flashed orange into her eyes under the setting sun. The thing blocked off their courtyard as the driver’s side opened; out came a wrinkled old man hustling in his tailed suit for the passenger’s side door. She turned away. She’d hold out on looking at her until that final, final second it became unavoidable. Instead she could imagine Lili’s self-satisfied smirk, the confident strut as she dragged her suitcase worth a hundred little hole in the wall houses, the haughty air in her laugh that’d come whenever Asuka so much as stared. She hummed in concentration imagining her perfect hair, perfect poise, flawless as she claimed her prize. No! The brave thing would be looking that dumbass right in her stupid eyes. ‘You don’t get control of everythin’ you want!’

Suddenly the doorbell rang making her jolt and yelp.  She opened the door and there stood Queen Dumbass, lifting pink tinted aviator shades that covered her face. A silver rope necklace glinted around the collar of an outfit Asuka didn’t attempt guessing the price for. The limo was gone. Lili clicked her tongue; somehow her long blonde hair remained flawless. But there was, if only for an instant, tiredness beneath her stare. She leaned over her tall and wiry enough to block the door. Like so many times before Asuka’s words died on her tongue.

“Good day Asuka Kazama. Have you recovered from our flight? We have much to do if I’m going to train, and I can’t have you slacking.”

Stand tall, now.

“I’m fine. Don’t go expecting a summer camp here you ass. Might be your name on the deed these days but I was born here, right in the living room.”

Her thick Osakan drawl dragged and cut the words of her temper by their syllables. Lili stood unfazed, cocking her head in that blurred line between annoyance and amusement Asuka never understood.

“Well then you’ll know which room I’ll be staying in, how many meals I’ll eat, and exactly what our regimen will be already. I am the only student after all. Or are my expectations too high for one as knowledgeable as you? Perhaps you will find some other way to meddle and fuss during my stay. Father’s wealth is why we can stand where we are.”

Lili flicked Asuka’s forehead, swaggering inside and rolling her luggage behind her. A duffle hung from her shoulders, jostling Asuka as she passed. She scowled jostling her right back.

“Wha’ was that for?!”

“For being so very you. Now, my room if you’d please?”

“Yeah, yeah upstairs follow me.”

Upstairs meant passing several floorboards whose every creak made her heart lighter. Some things stayed the same. Asuka carried the suitcase as they climbed, and after a pause realized another floral scent was flooding her senses. It grew stronger each step she watched Lili climb forward.

‘Perfume? Damn it smells good.’

She bit her lip. Give them a week and she doubted this girl would keep primping herself up like a show dog. The gears in her mind whirled rearranging tomorrow’s plan as they reached the top.

“It’s on the left, close to the stairs for any going back an’ forth. I’ll put your things down so you don’t knock nothin’ over.”

“How rude! Don’t treat me like some monkey; I’m capable of minding my surroundings!”

“As capable as those fancy kicks of yours leave you wide open in a fight, sure.”

“Asuka Kazama you insufferable little…”

Growling Lili spun around setting upon her, pride wounded. She spotted the way her body drew back a second too long and rushed forward. ‘You still have that habit?’ One step sideways slid her out the way letting Lili pitch into air. Asuka lunged. It came an instant too late. Grappling and tussling each other had them tripping through the doorway, until forgetting the weight of her duffle saw Lili topple to the floor. Asuka planted her feet on instinct and pulled Queen Dumbass up as if it were reflex. The force thrust Lili clinging against her chest; for an instant she stood close enough to feel her gasp.

Asuka felt her body freeze, her face fixed in confusion finding Lili’s doe eyed expression. Then it was gone when she watched her glance around. Shelves covered in books, photos, and trophies lined the north most wall above a computer desk. The curtains were white around an opened window above a single bed. A dresser with a mirror and CD player hugged the western wall. Several spare bicycle parts were piled in a corner peeking out of a full trunk. At their feet a futon sat atop a plush rug.

“Are we…in your room?”

Asuka let go of her and stacked the luggage aside, crossing her arms.

“This ain’t a five star hotel; there wasn’t no other place to put you. It’s my room, my rules. Don’t go gettin’ ideas. You’re sleeping on the floor.”

She expected protest, an insult, any kind of resistance. Instead Lili nodded and gave the futon a once over. She spent greater time standing in awe like this were a museum exhibit she’d paid a personal tour for. Asuka’s skin flushed, but before her temper spilled Dad’s voice called from downstairs.

“Girls? Asuka? Is our guest home yet or can you help me with the cooking?”

“Cooking? Did he say cooking?”

“Yeah it’s for your moving in an’ all. Just stay here and look pretty. I doubt you’ve ever cooked in your life.”

She stuck her head out and yelled back.

“I’m comin’ Dad! She’s here in my room don’t worry.”

From behind her came the sounds of bags being unzipped. When she turned around Lili knelt knee deep in stacks of clothes for every occasion, dresses included. There were several tailored bags some of them spilling makeup tools next to bottles she couldn’t see the labels of. She watched her lean back and forth from bag to bag; it was like a cat pawing at yarn. Asuka swallowed a laugh. Lili didn’t notice. Instead she shooed her with a wave of the hand.

“Go on then. I need to make myself presentable. Where is your bathroom?”

“Last door on the right down the hall.”

“Don’t sound so dejected. You are killing the mood.”

She didn’t look at her as she spoke. A suck of her teeth felt reply enough. When she walked away she heard a confident ‘Thank you as always.’ Her chest tightened. A breeze followed her wake down the stairs.

Dad limped around the kitchen pulling out pots and setting oil to heat on their best skillets. Meat, vegetables, seasonings, a fruit platter, tiny cakes, even the takoyaki fryer- her mind grew fuzzy just counting everything. For a pause her eyes followed him, the tightness lingered.

“Oh there you are girl. Come and cut the lettuce for me.”

She gave him a once over from his strong and sweaty lined brow down to his quietly bent leg. He must be straining just standing there. Without thinking she set about washing her hands, placing things within his reach before he knew he needed them; then came prepping. Her face felt stiffer than her chopping once they settled into a rhythm. From the corner of her eye she watched him drag his steps a breath too long; at times when she passed on one prepped ingredient, he stood slumped over the counter. Asuka set down her knife.

“Dad. Why?”

Takoyaki sizzled.

“Why what?”

“Selling the house…not chasing after that bastard who crushed the dojo an’ gave you your wounds. Your coma. We could’ve figured it out ourselves.”

“…We talked about this.”

“And it makes no sense to me!” She shouted, slamming her palms and rattling the cutting board with a thud.

He glared dead at her straight backed, cold eyed, impassable. His lips were pursed with the unsaid that no longer bore repeating. Immediately she recoiled and the fire that twisted her face in anger began wavering. Goosebumps shot across her skin. When he spoke it was deep, rough as gravel; resigned but not bitter.

“Asuka, Asuka I won’t say this again. We’ve gotta survive. That’s all there is to it. They can bust me up, they can drive our students away, but there’s always a way out if you’re alive. You don’t spit on a helping hand.”

“I’m your daughter; it’s my job to be the helping hand. I just need to double my training and some time. There’s no point begging from anyone, much less the asshole that keeps picking fights with me! This is another one of her shams Dad; you should kick her to the curb and let me protect us!”

“Keeping my family does not mean I’ve lost!”

His nose flared and eyes shot wide with ferocity, with pain, as if she’d pressed fingers into an open gash. She recoiled, shuddering in silence. There remained nothing left to say. Slowly, slowly her breath returned; her blood warmed again. Then someone cleared their throat behind her. Asuka turned, rushing the break of the spell hanging over the air, to find Lili stood like a deer in headlights. Thinly applied blush and the sheen of lip gloss colored her face. Dad’s stare felt as if it kept burning holes through the back of her head. Whatever kept Lili stunned broke when she gave them a graceful bow. ‘You’re lovin’ this aren’t you.’

Yet the look Lili wore made her chest ache.

“Good Evening Mr. Kazama, sir. I apologize for any disturbances my presence has caused; a pleasure to meet you face to face.”

“Yes, please come in make yourself at home. Help yourself to as much as you’d like.” Dad said softly, ignoring Asuka’s bent, pleading expression as he wiped his hands on his apron.

Only a few finishing touches remained for the dishes. As she worked Lili sat waiting lost in thought each time she glanced a different spot. Sometimes, for the barest instant, she felt her stare linger a second too long. But whenever she glanced back Lili had moved on. When they plated the okonomiyaki, takoyaki, udon, oshizushi, and more around the hot pot center piece- that made her balk. 

It’d been Dad’s idea to offer her everything Osakan and the kitchen sink if need be; Lili accepted bite after bite with firm grace. With turns of phrase she joked, listened, chatted as if Dad were an old friend. Asuka sat mute unless asking for seconds or giving a clipped word or two, or three. Her glares seemed to deter nothing. She watched one of Lili’s smiles, oshizushi stuffed in her mouth. For whatever reason Lili didn’t focus on her, didn’t pry the fresh cuts she’d overheard. ‘I think I used too much broth in the hot pot…’

Steeping in the bath after a wash, Asuka watched the moon hang obscured by clouds.  Heart pounding, she rolled back her head. The ceiling was blank.

Night was giving way to blue dawn when her alarm blared. Fumbling she flipped her phone open to shut it off, eyes squinting as half of her read the time- the other half still dreamed of darkness. The screen blasted full on her face. Five thirty in the morning; time to get up. Various bottles, makeup tools, and pouches littered the surface of her dresser. Hairclips, brushes, ties, and ribbons (one set for the hair another to pin at the chest) were scattered in the space between. A handful of mirrors in a ridiculous range of sizes threatened toppling when she rummaged for clothes; she sucked her teeth. Even her things were starting to smell expensive.  

Her closet had been overtaken until the hangars were bursting, and the most enormous or excess dresses that couldn’t fit hung from wall hooks. What had been hers with its white and aqua walls, bike posters, and her parts box now became something cheaply soundproofed by lace. Lace buried even the flutter she once enjoyed from her white curtains. Everything was pink or silver or both or cream and red and grey and purple and she swallowed a scream. The last drops of sleep evaporated under her anger as she kneeled. Lili slept piled under the futon straight backed; a velvet mask embroidered with flowers over her eyes. A neat collection of stuffed animals ringed her body. Her breaths were so quiet she could pass for dead. Asuka considered it for a split second. She poked her cheek.

“Hey wake up. Training starts before school.”

Nothing, she poked her harder.

“C’mon you can hear me can’t you?”

A sudden mumble then jerk, but still she slept. Asuka groaned into a growl, leaning right into her face.

“Wake the hell up dumbass!”  

“AAAUGH!”

Lili shot upright slamming them together, a breeze from the impact shifting Asuka and sending her rolling across the floor. Pain exploded, purple spots flashed her vision then were gone.

‘Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-‘

“Fuuuckk!”

“My god what’s wrong with you?”

“You! You and your forehead nearly killed me.”

“What did you expect yelling so close like that? You’re not even bleeding. I thought someone came to kill me! Or rob us, or both.”

Asuka grumbled then settled into a scowl. She felt her face tenderly; Lili was right. Her head throbbed but hadn’t caught a scratch.

“Whatever. Keep your voice down or Dad might wake up. Sorry.”

Lili grimaced as she pulled off her eye mask, tossing it over a shoulder as she stood and yawned.

“Why are we up before the sun anyway? My beauty sleep will be ruined.”

Asuka sighed.

“Training.”

By the time they’d each had their turn fishing in the dresser true dawn dappled through the windows. Thankfully Lili matched her careful pace and save for their footfalls the house laid blanketed between quiet and nature’s white noise. Asuka glanced at her from the corner of her eye. Lili wore her hair pinned in a bun with an upturned tail, a headband cupping her bangs; both were paired by a compression tank top that hugged everything, and flowy sweatpants. From the midriff down were stitched roses and sharp curving vines. It wasn’t bad, and that made her bite her lip.

Her nose twitched when she could smell the training hall before they entered it. The rainbow of roses was now wilted; their grey brittle shells crunching under her feet. Musk of decay mixed with rancid sweetness filled her mouth. Behind her she heard coughing followed by a dry gag. Lili threw a hand over her lips; her eyes startled wide.

“My poor things…”

She watched her shift forward and Asuka threw out an arm to stop her, gently. Lili’s body had a softness to it, but to her surprise she felt muscle only practice produced. A jolt like a warm electric shock raced up her arm. She replied firm like it could restrain a tinge of regret.

“I saved the ones I could but they were already half dead when I came home. Then the ones I threw into vases died a little while after too.”

“You tried.”

Lili whispered absentmindedly, a hint of disbelief. Asuka sucked her teeth. Did she come off heartless to this girl? It was completely unfair, after all-

“None of them had to die if you hadn’t thought to leave a bunch of flowers without water. That’s so wasteful and stupid.”

“Making things beautiful is not stupid; you lack refined tastes. Being an uncouth boor seems to better suit you.”

“Yeah well, whatever that means, at least I have sense.”

They stomped at one another, their faces drawn close enough to feel the heat rising after every word. Asuka bit her lip; her jaw tightened into a scowl. Then, rather than argue and scrunch further, Lili ‘Hmph’d’ and turned away.

“We’re wasting time if we’re going to get any practice done before school.”

“No. I will be practicing forms. You can clean this up; it’s your mess. I’m not showing you squat for however long that takes.”

Before Lili could bark another complaint from her twitching mouth Asuka pointed a finger.

“Look up.”

Above the doorway rested the outline of bright untouched wood versus the rest of the dark wall polished by age. Its straight lines and angles formed the shape of a missing rectangle. Lili cocked her head, her expression stilled.

“What was there?”

“Dad hung our school’s motto on a plaque before I was born. It was nailed right in that spot, until that Kempo bastard snapped it like a twig when he trashed the place.”

Every syllable saw her blood boil, every word guiding the drum of her heart pounding in her ears. The hairs on her nape stood not stiff in fear as it was rage howling for release. In her vision there rested only the naked wall, nothing else.

“I need to get stronger, hunt him, and then I’m taking our school sign back. That one he stole like it was nothin’ but some cheap trophy. When he’s begging mercy at my feet, it won’t be over till he’s pissing, shitting, and eating through tubes!”

Spittle flew through the bite of her last word. Her heart turned to roaring in her ears; not her heart entirely but the rush of air, she realized, when she heard a gasp beyond it. Lili stood, that doe eyed stare returned now bordering on panic as she trembled softly. Glancing at the floor Asuka found her own fists had clenched. Since when? Her body had grown tight, pain beginning to throb in deeper knots along her limbs, her back. She breathed in then out. Her voice became stifled.

“Whenever we’re here we have to bow at the sign, got it? That’s all.”

She did so, half in demonstration and half in fervor; a perfect tilt neither too high nor too in the middle. When she walked away roses parted at the force on her heels. Lili said nothing, but she heard faint shuffling, a pause, followed by more movement fuzzing at the edge of her awareness. Forms, she needed to concentrate on her forms now. Bending down in the middle of the hall she cleared a circle then straightened into position. Breathe in then out.

First came arm stretches followed by meaty pops from both shoulders, she shivered into a sigh at those. Then she bent over feeling the burn in her hamstrings before it fizzled out. Slowly she stretched out one leg at a time for her sitting hamstring work, then ankle flexes. The routine loosening each limb emptied her mind, honed her focus into a single razor point.

There was a nagging presence circling the edge of her awareness, she launched into White Heron Dance. Its sequence was familiar, her roundhouse kicks spinning her with whirlwind momentum into a sucker punch that curved the air in passing. Moon Scent would be next. She threw herself downward, bouncing from a handstand as she speared her legs into an upward arc. Like a looping bird she let gravity carry her backflip, fluid as water. Her stomp boomed when she landed upright again. She caught her breath, readying to jab when the presence danced across her skin, refusing now to hide.

 Asuka glanced at Lili, wrinkling her brow in confusion when the girl kept staring as if mesmerized. She scoffed. A rich girl had probably never seen anyone who worked for their skills, much less the sturdy muscle years of technique carved along Asuka’s body.  Even other girls during P.E. class at school were prissy about it- until she’d once sent a few flying. None of them had ever turned as red as Lili now was though.

“What? Quit grilling me unless you’ve got something to say.”

Lili turned away and swept the roses slower. The flush on her face reached her fingertips.

“Sh-Shut your mouth.” Was all Asuka heard her grumble.

She adjusted her crop top and shifted her shorts. The modest room seemed to shrink the longer neither moved. Then just like that Lili went back to sweeping as she jabbed the first steps of Basho’s Dance.

Together they faced the walk to school. One glance at the battered frame and missing bolts of Asuka’s bike had her tugging Lili along before a word could shoot out her mouth. It was left leaning against the house; her stomach sank at Lili having seen it at all. Then she was under a barrage.

First the streets were nice to walk but crowded easily yet it was better than Monaco. The weather was too cold at a slight breeze despite it being May. They were too far away to smell the ocean. There were no gull calls floating readily through the air in their neighborhood. Despite this the buildings were beautiful, quaint, and street signs were a splendid rainbow. Asuka’s uniform, though handsome with a popped collar and short sleeves, was too typical. Nothing could change it being a sweater vest over a dress shirt and a skirt, how very dull. It lacked the refined precision of a superior tailor- Lili had a dozen points proving as much. And that was why she’d had hers custom ordered to her measurements in a green complimenting her as well as the hand sown cuffs. Her butler, Sebastian, had arranged paying off their principal so she could keep it on. She had something to say after every other block; it took only three before Asuka wished she’d shut the fuck up. Instead she rested her bag over her shoulder, her chin held high, and humored her anyway.

Homeroom finally divided them by school year, and even if she whined about it and rolled her eyes, Lili relented. Teachers shooed her away toward the Second Years by the time Asuka sat her ass in the Third Year class she rightfully belonged with. Everyone else clustered around their circles of the room, chatting about gossip she didn’t understand. Understanding hadn’t been a privilege she’d held since her first time storming back, that Kempo bastard having been nowhere she could reach. It would be almost a year ago since she’d flung desks out the window when one boy joked ‘At least you got to be a tourist while the rest of us took exams!’ The suspension afterwards marred her student record, yet when she’d been yelled at in the faculty office she’d felt nothing. There’d been only the off white of the florescent lights, fury killing the pain into numbness.

Their homeroom teacher whose name she couldn’t remember called everyone’s attention. The pockets of gossip went back to their rank and file seats for roll call and bowing. Waiting for her name to be called she stood, a handful of glances finding her staring at the wall clock. Behind her more gazes merged and bore upon her shoulders. Whispers tickled her ears buzzing like gnats, silenced when their tired teacher asked,

“Asuka Kazama?”

“Here.”

She sat down when he passed her over and leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, brow narrowed. It was every day with this shit. When the lecture started she pulled out her notebooks in silence. Half of her listened; reason kept her anger lidded to a simmer.

History was today’s first subject. It was something about the Sengoku Era picking up off yesterday’s lesson. She hadn’t kept track since chasing Lili at the seventh Iron Fist Tournament; with the bombings, cities in rubble, and armies mowing each other down on the news, studying felt as much a moot point. Her hand clenched in her hair absentmindedly as she took notes on Nobunaga Oda’s last stand at Honnō-ji. His own men had turned and cornered him like a rat. In the crowd around her some jeering or nervous faces turned away when she returned their stares. Many had been weak little squirts running to her covered in bruises when they were in elementary school. She’d charged their bullies and taken blows she’d showed off to Dad wearing a toothy grin. Her enemies were left groaning on the pavement, worthless against the latest technique she’d trained. Asuka’s eyes stuck to her paper, gritting her teeth.

Math came next. An equation that stretched a good width of the chalkboard had her cocking her head, a brow raised incredulously. Then the worst possible thing happened as she squinted in frustration- the teacher locked eyes with her.

“Ms. Kazama, can you tell us the correct answer?”

Two people snickered. She stood and crossed her arms. It was algebra she recognized but never exceled at. If she multiplied, subtracted, carried the one and divided she’d get…

“Er, uh, is it four?”

Pain swatted against her forehead flashing purple spots in her vision. Something clattered at her feet and when she crunched it underfoot she found chalk dust.

“Perhaps you’d know if you took your education seriously. Next.”

She balled her hands at her sides growling into a scowl. Not caring for surrender she flopped back down into her seat and stared into her notes. Then came more whispers,

“Kazama struggles with math worse than I do…”

“Of course she does all she cares about is fighting.”

“Don’t let her hear you or she’ll turn into Violent Kazama!”

Literature class left her tongue tied and head swimming in muddy metaphors. One book’s story could contain a million answers and counter answers, and then there was the view teachers wanted you to have. She wasn’t picked for a read aloud, sighing in relief at that. Still, she tried looking as neutral as her face could tolerate. Her fists clenched on her desk.

‘How the hell am I supposed to know what some author’s going through? Nothing’s going right with me!’

She didn’t even want to attempt English. The straight and curved squiggles of letters on the board were jumbled nonsense. Her notes tapered into messy lines. The borders of her page became busy with scribbles. In one she trampled that Kempo bastard underfoot, holding her dojo’s sign above her head, triumphant. In another Dad practiced his form grinning ear to ear. Then without thinking she drew curve after curve until Lili’s arrogant eyes and unknowable smile framed in a detailed portrait stared up at her. She sucked her teeth quietly.

Lunch came without fanfare when everyone again went in their little corners eating together. Some people scraped their chairs loudly when they moved seats; when she looked around she sat alone. Even the bullied loner kids had made a camp of their own. They shot her nervous, pitiful glances. Tch. She scowled into a sigh. Her lunch amounted to a protein shake and the bento she normally made slapped together without order. The rice, unshaped and seaweed scattered, half buried her sliced sausage. The pickled radishes, lettuce, and sliced carrots spilled over the rectangle cut omelets and nearly the rest of the box.  Her hamburger steak felt fucking pathetic squished at the center of it all. The nonsense that morning, and Lili’s cluelessness doing anything herself made Asuka rush in the kitchen. Before she could wallow her stomach growled.

Whispers beat against her as she ate.

“Stupid.”

“Nosey.”

“Thug.”

“Didn’t you hear? What if she’s related to that Jin Kazama, the terrorist…?”

“Enough people end up in the hospital ‘cuz of her. Even if they’re mostly punks…”

She gritted her teeth and glared like she could punch using her eyes. Her name went quiet after that. After the final bell for the day she checked the chalkboard and breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t on cleaning duty this time, and that made her steps ten times lighter out the door. Her bag went on her shoulder, swaggering even as the tips of her ears flushed. A pair of girls walking toward her staggered and speed walked away at one glance. Asuka growled and the weight in her steps thud off the walls like trampling hooves. She turned the corner to find them opening their shoe lockers. They gasped, bug eyed as they gaped like the idiots they were, fumbling to get their loafers on. The taller one fell against the lockers and yelped letting her lackey drag her away. She dashed forward and yelled after them,

“Go ahead and fuck off! That’s right! I hate you too!”

She sucked her teeth kicking off her school slippers, angry enough to never care again. When she opened her locker a presence hovered by her left-

“These people are largely lacking in the social graces, it seems. How awful.”

The hairs on her nape stood and her grip grabbing her shoes turned her knuckles white. Her jaw clenched, for a breath she stared ahead utterly still. When she slammed her locker shut Lili jolted but recovered as if not a hair were out of place. She threw her shoes to the ground and shoved into them one foot at a time. She didn’t bother looking at her until there were no options left. The heat rose like steam off her skin; her face scrunched into a glare that made Lili cock her head. Asuka stared her up and down. Lili stood rod straight holding her bag in front of her with both hands; a picture perfect schoolgirl waiting poised like some cliché out of an old drama. Like a cat sitting in a high place it didn’t belong; ignorant to any wrong it’d done.

She leaned up right in her face. The air wrapped around them hot, stale, bristling.

“You made it worse.” The words practically spat out her mouth.

“I beg your pardon?”

“First I had to go chase my Dad’s enemy halfway across the world; people gave me shit for ‘overreacting’. People started doubting what I’ve done for them. They think I just want to fight. Then you came along pulling me into whatever this petty bullshit grudge you have is. You made me show up to the Iron Fist Tournament on live TV missing more school, and what do I find when I meet you? You’re not making any sense talking about my family, what fucked up bloodlines I belong to; the drama that’s destroying the world could come after me. Buying my house, moving in! Now they think I’m like the idiots I clean up on the streets and treat me even worse!”

Finally Lili’s brow pinched.

“Petty? You think what I do is petty?”

“What else is this shit supposed to be? I’ve only met you three times and you’re already ruining my life.”

“Ruining- I can’t believe this. Our rematch outside this school was for my honor after you trounced me at our first meeting. Everything since however has been for your benefit-“

“Don’t you dare say that-“

“I just don’t understand your anger over something practical-“

“THIS IS YOUR FAULT!”

A gale roared flinging Lili’s hair wild as a shaking tree; she stumbled then froze in terror. Asuka felt nothing but the stinging of her blood, a burning on her skin. Then she followed Lili’s stare. Her right fist trembled, raised mid punch, her twitching muscle all that leashed it as if it were a tugging dog. Her ears were ringing.  Her tongue felt like pins and needles. Blood trickled down her knuckles from a few tiny cuts. It was so strange; she could see the heat haze rising off her wounds. Her mind went blank.

“Asuka…”

Her tendons flexed as she forced her arm down. The thud of her bag hitting the floor came muffled to her. To breathe shook her body one wheeze after another. Behind her long shadows smothered all warmth from the room.

Her voice was ice.

“Fuck you.”

She took off sprinting outside not caring what direction took her so long as she flew anywhere else. Far, far, and far away; anywhere else. The streets blurred past into denser and denser blocks lined with bright neon or metal signs. Lanes and corners went from mostly empty to small crowds parting at her wrath.

‘Where…where’s some punks…where?!’

The soles on her shoes squeaked as she dipped into an alley. She heard voices pop into existence and her ears perked.

“Got a problem asshole? This is our turf.”

“Not last week it wasn’t, you assholes keep pushin’ your way in here. You got no respect!”

“What’d you say fuckin’ tough guy?”

“Eat shit and give it up!”

Ahead of her figures lunged together until they became two big guys locked in each other’s grip. She flung herself high, tucked in, then thrust out both legs.

“Hold it right there!”

Instantly her heels bashed against their skulls crashing them together; she flipped and rolled safely off their domes. When she stood up there were no exits, just two gangs bunched shoulder to shoulder. At least twelve boys her age now circled her gawking and silent. She got up slowly, catching a deep breath then stopped.

Stand tall, now.

The pair she’d crashed into rolled and groaned clutching themselves before going dead still. They were blacked out. Good. She liked these odds. A guy wearing a jumpsuit stitched with catchphrases and his hair slicked back pointed at her.

“Who the fuck are you?”

She dusted off her hands then put one on her hip and smirked.

“Nothing belongs to either of you; the least you can do is not fight where everyone can see. You’re disturbing the peace. Go knock each other out in private, got it?”

Taking a step forward she stabbed her finger on the flashy guy’s chest.

“That’s me telling you as the Gang Mediator of Osaka, Asuka Kazama!”

A heavy silence passed where only a breeze whistled through. Then roaring laughter burst into her ears without buildup. She scowled but before she could react the guy grabbed her wrist.

“You’re so full of it, look there’s blood on her knuckles and she’s talking about ‘disturbing the peace’ gyahahahaha!”

‘Shit.’

Then something deeper hummed, it liked these odds.

“What’re you gonna do arrest us? Where’s your badge?”

“We can handle cunts like you!”

She tried snatching her hand away but he gripped it tight; his eyes narrowed like he’d stepped in fresh shit. She sighed.

“Put the turf on hold let’s get this bitch.”

As he grinned she gripped him by the hand he held and yanked them together. One of her legs swept his left shin; the instant he stumbled her fist slammed into his jaw. Woozy, he started crumpling when her kick flew into his nose.  The next guy hurled a right cross she dodged, seizing his arm and flipping him to let momentum do the rest. He hit the ground with a smack, her heel stomping his throat. More goons scrambled to corner her from every side; thinking fast she chopped one’s windpipe and shoved another with both palms. She dashed between the gaps he left as he fell into the others, toppling some into a groaning pile.

 The guys left standing chased her into the alley she’d come from, not bothering to look around until she readied herself. By then their mistake sealed them into a single file row but still they raged.

‘Now ya really asked for it!’

She went low planting her hands on the ground before kicking in a perfect arc on her backflip. The rubber of her soles bounced knocking a guy’s chin backwards. A few teeth clattered to the pavement. She caught her breath and ran as more trampled him underfoot. It was a few meters until she could see the sign lined street peeking ahead. She booked it, narrowly emerging in time to sidestep a grab for her hair. Again she ducked sweeping the guy’s ankle; bashing his shin, and then sprung into a one two punch.  In an instant his head knocked around harder than a jiggling water balloon. With a roar she thrust a kick forward booting him easy as a door. They cried and shouted under another pile up. One avoided the spill and charged; two punches whipped together was her answer.

“Somebody hit her already!”

“Stop pushing!”

“Who stepped on my new sneakers?”

“This bitch is stronger than a fucking gorilla!”

Again some lunged after her but she was shorter, faster, and nimble as the wind she sent them falling in a row. Then pain slammed her from behind shooting lightning across her spine. Crying out she stumbled but didn’t slump. Not wasting precious seconds she felt her neck rock sideways as she turned; the boy’s punch glanced her and even half its power crashed like a waterfall.

‘Fuck…’

“I got her!”

Roaring, Asuka pivoted into a back turn throwing herself behind her right shoulder; he slammed against a building, bouncing off the wall. His body dropped useless as a sack of meat. Everything went quiet; every eye had traced the arc of his flight. She gathered her breath, huffing and slinking back into stance. Her hands waited, palms slicked with sweat the same as her hair sticking to her forehead. Her clothes were getting damp; this had to end soon, Dad’s voice chided echoing in her mind. A grimace shut him out. Carefully she watched them and planted her feet. Anger cinched her into one piece, one feeling that demanded nothing but to sit beside her. Whether it was bravery, stubbornness, or still being pissed the boys started getting up.

She shook her head, grinned, and was gone in the fray.

Darkness filled the gaps of the sign lights curving over twelve sprawled bodies. She huffed, bent and holding her knees to stand. Everything from hair to socks stuck against her skin as if she’d spent hours rolling in cement. Her muscles pooled heat in knots. Tenderly she prodded her face; a swell around her left eye would definitely bruise by morning. Blood had long dried just under her left temple too, she wasn’t worried about that. When she tugged her sweater and checked for stains, she groaned finding streaks of it. Swaying she managed getting herself upright. The world wobbled the way your balance tipped lifting a heavy block. Her throat was sandpaper she couldn’t swallow enough to wet.

Someone moaned stirring painfully slow near the edge of the sprawl. Asuka gnashed her teeth into a growl and limped toward him. Winding a kick she slammed his head planting him on his back. Then finally she was alone. She roared into the sky,

“Next time listen to me you dumbasses! No fighting!”

She spat at them and kept going down the cleared street. The fighting must have shooed everyone when she’d been busy. It wasn’t even a long walk, she knew this area the more she looked around, but each step was lead. The streets could have stretched a few meters or several kilometers, time lessened nothing. At least she had her vision, scanning for the familiar signs and lanes that would turn into home. Like an idiot she’d left her phone in her school bag, and she’d never gotten into watches despite Dad swearing by them. Whenever it was she guessed the trains still ran with as many people crossing intersections as there were. That made it late enough though that she’d probably missed dinner. People quickly turned not daring to look her in the eyes. Or they gasped, froze in place, and then scurried off. She sighed softly but never once rested.

When she turned a familiar intersection her chest tightened; another punk crowd lounged outside a Lawson’s. They laughed, pretended to fight, and ate snacks loud enough to set her head aching halfway down the block. She sucked her teeth. To her left opened up another tight alley; if she could just limp across, if she could just stay low then-

“Ms. Asuka? Izzat you?”

“What’s she doing out this late?”

“Yeah that’s her look, look!”

Their sneakers hit the pavement thundering closer and closer. Growling she pulled herself up, readying her hands. Their eyes glinted under the streetlights bouncing from surprise to shock. She squinted and studied their faces, their casual dress. For once her relief seemed like it could melt her pain away. She’d broken these guys in months ago. Their fussing was music to her ears, and when the leader insisted two people help her stand while they walked her home, she didn’t resist. Everyone rained down questions scrambling her thoughts until she swore she might explode. So instead, urging them to shut up for a second, she gave them the rundown start to finish. Lili however, of course, was none of their business.

They ooh’d and ahh’d and that got a snicker out of her. Twelve guys at once, they kept passing it around as if the words were something they could touch. Someone slapped her shoulder. Another offered her an energy drink she gulped greedily. As it dribbled down her chin she asked them if they’d been making nice around town. Silence fumbled in the darkness but when her eyes narrowed they nodded and reassured her. Yesterday they hadn’t even fought anyone, helping a granny cross the street instead. Exhaustion drowned her will to question. They chatted until she had nothing but listening to their jokes.

She said goodbye waving off their good cheer two blocks from home and felt lighter. A dog barked somewhere when she leaned against her courtyard’s fence; her head throbbed. Huffing for breaths she looked up. Lili sat on the front step head in hand and scrolling her phone. Seconds passed and when she blinked they were staring. Out came her next breath and Lili ran toward her; Asuka had never seen her move so fast. She found herself in her arms and managed a protesting groan but didn’t pull away. Lili’s fingers tenderly grazed her black eye.

“My god where the hell have you been, what happened?! Do you have any idea how late it is? You idiot running off like that without even taking your things…”

Asuka’s temper smoldered, fizzled into ash.

“I’m fine, go get my Dad he knows about patching me up. And quit hugging me you’re not making this hurt any less! You’re the idiot.”

“Stop talking or I shall drop you where you stand so you may crawl inside.”

“Damnnit.”

Dad wove the gauze tight between her knuckles. She hissed then shuddered when he glared back. With a sigh she put her chin in her other hand. She couldn’t tell if he read her regret; the ice pack taped to her face blocked half her vision. Her shoulders sagged pathetically. A cold jolt prickled along the cut beneath her eye; on reflex she hissed and instantly the pain began dulling. Lili had a steady hand applying a second thin streak of ointment.

“At least warn me when you’re gonna do that.”

“Hush, there’s no time to waste keeping these from ballooning overnight.”

“Listen to her Asuka. It’s you who went looking for trouble when unfocused in the first place.”

She swallowed hard then huffed quietly.

“Lift your head and hold still, I’m applying your bandage.” Lili said.

Asuka obeyed; this time she could feel their body heat hovering close. Lili’s touch worked so softly on her skin, Asuka couldn’t find it in her to feign annoyance. It didn’t hurt at all like it should. A low gentle hum rumbled in her throat when Lili’s thumb smoothed the bandage, the white noise of an absent mind filled the space. Then Dad cleared his throat breaking the spell; her eyes widened driving that weird calm away like someone throwing stones after a fleeing dog. She rubbed her head and scoffed, crossing her arms in silence. Lili humph’d and did the same.

“So, what started this?”

Dad looked dead at her. Anger rolled when she flexed her tense shoulders, fogging as it curled her voice.  

“My classmates avoid me and talk crap about what we’re going through at school. It’s nothing I can’t handle so don’t worry yourself.”

“You’re the one coming home like this. Defending yourself or someone is what I encouraged you to do, not chase idiots proving how tough you are. What have I kept telling you-“

“Fight with a clear head.” She sighed.

“That’s right.”

“If I might add Mr. Kazama…”

She turned expecting Lili stone faced or cocky. Instead a frown wrinkled her mouth, her eyes narrowed just enough. It was like she’d seen this before; daughters at odds with fathers.

“I saw some of the bullying myself. Anyone would have found it insulting, and though I didn’t mean to contribute, some misunderstandings between us worsened everything. I suppose I played a part in her rage.”

“Played a part, you are-“

“Asuka. I understand Lili and I appreciate you admitting fault. But in the end she is responsible for her behavior.”

He leaned back stretching his sinewy legs, worn into silence. Then he sighed and she saw even his shoulders deflate.

“Just go Lili. Thank you for your help.”

Without a word she watched her bow her head, give her an unreadable glance, then she was gone. Gently Asuka pressed the ice pack closer against her skin. Immediately her body winced, saving her from looking him in the eye.

“Times like these make me not know what to do with you girl.”

“What else am I supposed to do? It’s between this and the world going to shit, I...”

He leaned forward taking her hand with both of his. His face softened. Asuka’s heart seized up her throat.

“I know what happened while I was…getting better. I wouldn’t wish the burden you had on my worst enemy. Watching while what our family built gets sold off piece by piece. The bills. Not a single old student asking what we, what you needed. Whole thing haunts me waking or dreaming.”

Her muscles locked; she hung her head before her lip began quivering. A cry choked and died inside. She felt hot tears dripping into her bangs. Dad smoothed her hair, tucking parts behind her ears. Asuka cried.

“My poor girl.”

“…I’m confused Dad. I’m so confused.”

He kept petting her hair, each new pass making her weightless.

“What’s confusing, which part? Tell me what it is.”

“She just, that girl never tells me what she wants! And if she does it’s wrapped up so fast I can’t keep track. Nothing makes sense anymore and she wants to make that worse. She’s so fucking cocky about driving me in circles.”

He sighed.

“Well, if I know you the way I do, did you press her to talk straight- or did you feel lost and get fed up when you weren’t hearing what you wanted?”

She snapped up glaring, pointed as a knife. He chuckled like he knew something she didn’t.

“You want me sitting there and taking stupid crap?” She growled into a sniffle.

“No. I’m saying sometimes you gotta find out as much as you can before you hold grudges. Can’t punch your way through life kiddo.”

Again her lip quivered, no longer pained. He leaned close. He put on his firm voice.

“Someone like that never wears their heart on their sleeve. Not usually.”

He clapped her forearm and shuffled toward the fridge. She sat there, blinking. Her knuckles stung flexing her hand. Spots of blood seeped into the bandage; the red pinpricks tightening her chest when she couldn’t help counting them.

“Dad.”

“Yeah kid?”

“When…when I got mad and shouted at Lili…my arm moved on its own. I didn’t even feel pain or my skin tearing. I was just making a fist…and the wind went crazy. It blew; around me. I blinked and it shot out everywhere.”

His spine went ridged, lamp post straight. His eyes fixed something hard and tighter than his discipline at training.

“I didn’t mean to!”

“The heat of the moment got to you. I know your temper; you let it blind your mind. You’ll get pissed enough and forget about stopping yourself. And you’ve been stressed. Yes I could tell don’t look at me like that. Rest is what you need.”

He said it matter-of-factly erasing any questions. Not entertaining a single one even if she got them out. Her stomach bundled a knot she felt pinch her breath. She nodded and glanced toward the wall. There was nothing more to say. Already she cast it down her lake of memory, where it sank with a sword’s weight.

Burying under her thin summer covers she stared at the ceiling. A plate of dinner had been saved for her, setting her stomach near bursting now. Only their breathing filled the night, Lili having taken her place among her stuffed animals. Slowly Asuka sat up, squinting to make out her silhouette; the girl was fast asleep. She had no idea how. It never seemed she did much all day save for homework and experimenting ridiculous skin routines. Unless they crossed paths or ate dinner Asuka kept to herself. Though sometimes, without meaning it, she’d overhear soft conversations; phone calls reassuring Sebastian, and other things she was sure. Words slid back down like watery noodles. She lay flat again on her doubled pillows, until her throbbing head lulled her away.

When she dragged herself out the bath the next morning her wobbling steps wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. She yawned gripping the towel around her neck; the tips of her wet hair kept passing out at bay. As she stood drying off, a distant thump echoed almost as if it were right beside her. Fumbling into a shitty stance she nearly tripped over the towel, scrambling to snatch it before it might hit the floor. Another thump echoed to match the first. Then a third, faster stomp followed, scared to miss the rhythm of what came before it. Her feet moved toward the training hall; not a thought in her mind giving voice to the goosebumps climbing her arms.

She poked her head through the entrance; Lili landed a perfect backflip.  There came a calculated pause for catching her breath, before she pivoted into a roundhouse kick. Its arc spread a bit too wide but that didn’t lessen how it snapped the air. Her back was turned to Asuka as she wiped her face with a handkerchief. From wall to wall the floors were spotless. A grin touched her. Quiet and gingerly she leaned against the doorway. 

Tucking the handkerchief into a pocket, Lili huffed, hands on her hips. Asuka blinked, and she threw another roundhouse. This one snapped sharp, corrected into something sleek. She watched her throw out five more never resting save for the turn from one to another. Groaning, Lili launched into a somersault; when their eyes met she tumbled out her landing. Asuka laughed so hard her towel shook free crumpling at her feet.

“Nique ta mère!” Lili shouted.

Asuka slid down wiping tears, twitching when her laughs grew louder. She slapped her thighs nearly tipping sideways. Lili slammed her fist, tried to stand, then tripped over herself. In a few steps she towered over her, and offered a hand. It was met with a glare. She cocked her head and shrugged, but Lili grabbed it as she pulled away. Asuka stood her up slow; the girl dusted her hands off, her thanks amounting to a simple ‘Hmph’.

“I could have done without your sneaking around, but what did you think?”

“About the practice or you eating shit on the floor?”

“That tongue of yours should be traded for some manners.” Lili’s dry tone pinched her expression.

Asuka snorted a tiny laugh into her fist.

“At least I can see you’re not lazy, even when you get sloppy. I remember a few students used to quit after barely starting. Just ‘cuz they thought they’d be action heroes in a day. Then when it turned out they didn’t get it perfect in a second, poof.”

Lili smirked.

“Yes well, I do not intend on going ‘Poof’; I intend to win.”

“Against me?”

Lili’s expression hardened sensing wariness.

“Against whatever stands in my way.”

Then she smiled flipping her bangs. She was being a dumbass again.

“And that may include you, or it may not. Time will tell. Now let us ready for school.”

“…You’re so damn annoying.”

Lili curtseyed and walked past with a spring in her step. When she disappeared silence lingered for how long Asuka didn’t count until she heard birds singing outside. The world was waking up. She took in the empty hall. Crisp air cleansed her lungs; everything spotless. A smile came without thinking. Her satisfied chuckle warmed like a cloudless summer. She looked it over one last time, and then left the pull of childhood behind.

Lunch at school was no longer the hard won lesser evil she could tolerate. The left side of her face formed a minor swell beneath bandages and one of several fresh ice cubes in plastic baggies Dad had tossed in a thermal bag. Fixing it to her head had her fumble an entire roll of gauze. Every bite of food brought tiny hammers down on her jaw. The whispers had outright ballooned into normal chatter.

“Whoa look at that! It’s a blue black plum!”

“Did she seriously go look for a fight right after school? So typical.”

“How dangerous…oh my god she glared at me.”

From the side of the room a door slid open. Asuka didn’t bother checking to see until suddenly she heard no sound.  Lili flipped her hair as she swaggered in, sitting right beside her and smirking. She watched her place her briefcase and take out her own boxed lunch like this were some prissy café and dozens weren’t gawking. Several pounding heartbeats passed for anyone to find the mind to speak.

“How the hell did you find my class?” Asuka whispered.

“It’s called asking around don’t be stupid.” 

A few people crowded them, walling Lili off before others got the chance for five seconds of her presence. Keeping the utmost poise, she gave them not a single glance as she opened her food. They may as well have not existed when she began setting the table. It was impressive. A wide faced girl at the front who Asuka recognized as the Third Year gossip bitch grew antsy, tugging the hem of her skirt. Her flunkies flanked her mimicking the shy act better than a clone. The whole thing gave Asuka chills.

“Wow are you the new transfer girl? Hiii, my name’s Ayako and-“

“What appointment did you schedule to interrupt me?”

Asuka watched Ayako freeze in her tracks; the plastic smile now stiff and twitching at the corners. Her robot wiring had short circuited. The circle of her little goons threw their hands over their mouths. They glanced from their leader to Lili and back again.

“…Sorry, we just thought you’d want to eat with better company. Among people who can show you all kinds of things so you’re not lost. Your hair is sooo pretty by the way. What’s the secret?”

Lili unfolded a napkin onto her lap and started cutting the filleted swordfish beside her salad of tomatoes, olives, and bell peppers. All things she had insisted on bringing to Japan in a cooler, of course. Ayako leaned forward sticking her hands on the desk mere centimeters from Lili’s arm.

“Just so you know, for your own good you know, that girl next to you…she puts people in the hospital. She’s sooo unsafe, you know?”

Neatly Lili set down her knife and fork, dabbing the napkin at her mouth. Asuka made a choked sound watching her stand and push past them. Without warning she planted her ass right in front of Asuka’s lunch and crossed her legs. Her hands folded on her knees while Asuka sputtered for the right words. She never found them when Lili cocked her head and bore polite, surgical venom.

“Who told you to wear that cheap makeup and slouch like a slob when talking?”

“Excuse me?! What’s your problem?”

“Oh, nothing. I simply cannot recall when I requested a small minded cow offer their opinion. Much less dictate anything toward me, of all people. Perhaps being so comfortable brown nosing, there’s another ass you should be licking.”

Chopsticks fell from Asuka’s grip clattering into her rice. She stared at her wide eyed and mouth gaping. Ayako burned so red she could be a dynamite stick that sparked itself. All at once the flunkies clung to each other rubbing Ayako’s arms and shoulders. They showered her in nasally compliments, but that didn’t stop her shoving them aside, balling her fists.

“B-Bitch!” She shrieked.

“I must get back to eating, if you’ll excuse me.”

She threw herself to her feet giving them a dismissive wave. Bumping them out her way she set everything as it’d been, and dug into lunch. Ayako moved to snatch Lili’s knife; Lili plucked her wrist mid thrust and twisted it in reverse. She bent it at an angle taking a bite off the fork while the girl sank to her knees, screaming breathlessly.

“Ah ah ah I would not flail if I were you. Run along now.  Adieu.”

She gave Ayako’s wrist a jerk then released her. Wheezing and shaking Ayako scooted on her ass, crawling and tripping over the floor. Together her goons pulled her up. Wobbling they stumbled into the corner they came from. Asuka who stood ready on reflex found herself reduced to a dumb stare.

“Better?”

Lili asked, smiling, eyes studying.  Slinking down in her chair Asuka pinched her brow and held her head in her hands. Gripping her chin couldn’t conceal a tiny smile.

From then on she never ate alone. Each day Lili announced her arrival by striking some model pose or with a hair flip. Then she’d park her ass beside Asuka surrounded by everyone pretending they weren’t scared. At least Asuka no longer heard her name in gossip. For a day someone tried slipping Lili’s name within earshot. No one said so, but the immediate silence could only have been under Ayako’s orders. For her part Lili didn’t seem to give a shit; in fact she’d never seen her so self-assured. At first she felt her skin crawl, that ugly nervousness she hated even imagining. But not a week passed before she started grinning too.

Each day her eye got lighter, the bruise centimeters smaller, and soon she better recognized her reflection. Once, when Dad was out on an errand, she brought it up over tea. Without Sebastian there, Lili kept trying to brew the way he knew she liked. After Asuka showed her how water boiling worked obviously.  So far there’d been no success.

“I haven’t forgotten about the other day you know.”

Lili stopped stirring sugar into her tea. Her tone had a way of looking at Asuka even if she herself wasn’t.

“Then you remember what I said.”

“Yeah I do. Don’t be an idiot.”

A silence passed. A hesitation. She got a tight lipped smile for a reply.

‘Playing the long game huh? I can do that too. I’ll figure you out.’

As long as her head kept pounding she never stepped foot in the training hall; instead she’d park herself at the door, watching Lili move. Each morning brought something new. Tighter swings, jumps and flips that belonged at the Olympics, Asuka chuckled remembering knocking Lili out the air for those. She refused to abandon the most ridiculous nonsense in the name of ‘aesthetics’.

“You need techniques that won’t leave you wide open!”

She couldn’t help but blurt it out while watching her fling herself around. Her nerves grinded like pepper through a shaker the longer she’d watched. Lili landed on her feet this time, wiping sweat as it touched her skin.

“What do you suggest that won’t rob me of my grace? Or will I be rolling across all manner of ground as you’d prefer.”

“Nuh uh, keep that attitude and I’m leavin’.”

Lili stopped running her handkerchief along her nape. Her eyes softened and for once she stood waiting patiently. Asuka grunted, satisfied. Stepping in slowly she bowed at the old sign spot then positioned herself behind Lili.

“I’m gonna have to touch you to explain.”

“Do as you must.”

“Ok so first, you tend to put your front foot a bit too forward in stance. That’s why I’ve never had much trouble sweeping it.”

“This can be done without reminding me of-“

Asuka planted a hand on Lili’s left thigh, guiding it until both legs were shoulder width apart. Against her warmth Lili shivered. But her body didn’t tense, staying loose when Asuka realized they were practically stuck together. An electric feeling coursed through twisting her gut. For a few seconds sounds were sharper, her touch sensitive; she thought she even tasted her. She pulled back just enough. Glancing up, the faintest blush painted Lili pink, even her eyes might’ve blushed if they could.  

“I’m not gonna touch anything if that’s what yer’ worried about! I used this kinda stuff to help our students when we had ‘em.”

“No…do more of that. I didn’t imagine you’d be so bold about it is all.”

“Shaddup you’re makin’ me sound like a pervert!”

“When did I say that? I am not. Are we continuing, or have your suggestions been cut short?”

“Tch. Keep your feet shoulder width apart. And your back should be straighter it’ll keep you balanced.”

Gentle yet firm she pressed the small of Lili’s back easing her into place. Their bodies drew close enough without hugging this time. Asuka felt Lili’s heart pound through the touch of her palm. It couldn’t explain why hers started racing too. Not a single movement was forced. Her tongue tied when Lili gave another unreadable glance and a smile. Like Asuka had once again played into her schemes. Another electric feeling rode under her skin.

“What next?” The smile hiked into a grin.  

“Movement; you dodge well but you over rely on it because your moves come out slowly. Don’t just hurl those complicated flips at an enemy. Make them want to come to you.”

Asuka barely kept her words together; everything had grown too hot. Finding strength she pulled her hands away. Lili smirked.

“My, you’ve studied me with an interest I’d never have imagined.”

“…I fight…any good fighter knows about paying attention.”

“Certainly. But after having fought only three encounters? I’m beginning to think you’re fonder than you let on.”

Immediately Asuka jabbed a finger at Lili’s chest. It was soft to the touch.

“I dunno what ‘fond’ means but we’re not friends! Don’t go actin’ like you know me for me.”

She huffed and stormed off without her heart in it. Her hopes were it read as ‘Screw You!’, but instead it fizzled into ‘Whatever’. Sucking her teeth she left Lili standing there; burying how she’d made her body sing a new song under silence.

That night they sat at the kitchen table, notebooks and worksheets piled between their dinners. Asuka had eyes on her homework and ears for her pencil scribbling. The swell around her eye had shrunk from a plum to a cherry tomato. The long form equation taunting her from the page met her glare. She scratched her head in frustration. A groan died in her throat when Lili beat her to it.

“These damned dates! I cannot believe anyone memorizes so many periods by heart.”

“History?”

“…Yes.”

Asuka snorted.

“That’s easy ‘cuz it’s all copying stuff down. Nobody’s asking you solve their problems that make no sense.”

Lili looked up at her, pencil butt pressed under her chin.

“Math?”

“Yeah…”

“Simple. Give it here and I shall explain, slowly.”

“Fuck off.”

She paused.

“You mean you can do stupid numbers and variable crap, but can’t read a few paragraphs?”

Lili leaned forward, a scowl splitting her mouth.

“And you are a year older than me but can’t do better than counting.”

Asuka’s grip squeezed a groan from the table when she leaned in too. They glared at each other; neither budged. Her brow quirked but Lili kept a straight face; who would break first? Time stopped. Then they each grabbed the other’s work sighing as they swapped.

“I’ll have you know I received top marks at home for this ‘number crap’. Numbers matter in business. And I’d hate seeing Daddy-Father, keel over from worry.”

“Daddy? Are you five?”

“Quiet! You must have your reasons as I do mine.”

She slouched thumbing the pages.

“History tells us what’s happened so we’ll be less stupid. It’s like tradition; you learn what to do and stuff. And why you should do it. That way you’re not confused.”

One glance and she found Lili staring into her eyes.

“And it can be rewritten too.”

Asuka’s face pinched. She looked at the notes.

“Whatever.”

Lili’s handwriting was neat and clear, highlighting chunks in a rainbow of inks, some glittery. Her brow rose. From the corner of her eye she spied Dad washing dishes. He smiled to himself.

The next time she saw her math teacher swagger in she slid a second notebook under the first. Terms and equations decorated its pages in lists. She’d copied them down herself with a pencil, much to Lili’s annoyance at how colorless that was. But she got through class without any chalk or suspicion hurled her way. A full picture stayed out of reach yet now she no longer drowned among the waves, sputtering for answers. When he left she slumped over her books with a relieved sigh. The notebook bent tight in her embrace.

Lunch came and went; Lili only gave her another unreadable smile when Asuka asked about history. She’d shrugged, eating with a silence between them she didn’t mind. Though she swore at some point, if this weren’t her imagination eating away her sense, Lili had shifted her seat closer. Now Asuka reached for her shoes; aching for the walk home, dinner, and beating numbers to a pulp. She saw blonde hair the instant her locker clattered shut. She jumped crying out,

“What the hell? At least say something moron.”

“Since we cannot train thanks to your eye, I insist you show me your city.”

“Ah, not listenin’ to me again. Alright.”

“Please…”

Asuka gnashed her teeth before turning to find a sight so pathetic she giggled. Lili stood pouting. Her hands balled at her sides not as if she wanted a fight, but like a kid about to stomp their foot. The hopeful glimmer clouding her eyes spilled over. It was a plea. Asuka’s breath hitched realizing this girl was at her full mercy. She grinned. She could do something with this.

“You can ask nicer than that.”

“Well, may I please ask you show me the rest of your beautiful home?” 

Asuka kicked off her school slippers for her shoes. She held a hum as she put her heels in one at a time, thinking nothing. When she was done Lili was still pouting, slouched in a kicked puppy way. She crossed her arms and rubbed her chin.

“Hmmm…I dunno how much I buy it. Doesn’t sound sincere enough.”

She knew that Lili knew. It was plain on her face. The girl was too clever not to know, too stubborn for-

Lili turned around placing her bag at her feet. Carefully she smoothed her hair, tucking whatever came loose. Her cuffs, blazer, and skirt were straightened. From her pockets came a compact with a round mirror. She checked her face. Asuka saw resolve in the briefest glimpse of her reflection. Finally ready, she tucked it away and picked up her bag, facing her again.

“Asuka Kazama. This is my first venture into Osaka. I would like your perspective as a native; to see what you feel it offers.”

“…Well…since you put it that way, maybe I will. C’mon.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder and walked off before Lili could react. Not a few seconds passed when she heard footsteps hurrying behind her. If they were going together, then so was Lili’s wallet. Quickly she flipped her phone open.

[To: Dad]

[ Hanging around with Lili after school; do you need anything from the market? ]

Lili caught up just as she hit send. Asuka smirked flipping the phone closed.

“What? Do you have somewhere in mind?”

“Yeah. Of course I do.”

The catlike grin Lili wore vanished the moment they met the swell of Dotonbori. People packed the bridge end to end bringing their bags, their noise, and each other. Open aired boats trucked beneath the underpass, carrying gawking tourists and their readied cameras. Neon signs dotted every billboard and restaurant woven between those lit by paper lanterns. Though their light was dim in the afternoon sun it grew by the second. They had few hours left before the nightlife stirred and nothing would be left for anyone their age. The entire city loved to come crawling out when the sun kissed it goodnight.

She found Lili frozen stiff in place, gripping her bag. A man passed her sending her recoiling against Asuka’s side. More people walked around them, two boulders diverting the stream. Still Lili’s eyes refused to shrink smaller than saucers of wonder as much as uncertainty. Asuka elbowed her gently. Lili stuck closer to her.

“What’s your problem? Changed your mind?”

“I’d seen pictures and heard rumors from Father’s business trips but, these are your streets? Is there nowhere…private?”

“It’s the street princess; didn’t you walk anywhere back home?”

Lili turned her head, mumbling.

“Seriously? No way-“

“Sebastian drives me around! It’s what we pay him to do…and he insisted anyway. And Father gave me my limo so…”

With a roar Asuka burst out laughing and slapped her leg not caring who stared.

“Stop that! Shut up! Idiot! So what if it’s my first time? You should be nicer about it.”

“I can’t, I can’t. I’m gonna pass out.” Asuka wheezed, gripping Lili’s forearm for balance and clutching her mouth. Her hand couldn’t contain another laugh from bending her over.

“Asshole. But you did call me princess so, I suppose, it isn’t all terrible.”

“Eh?”

When she looked up Lili wouldn’t look at her, but her skin turned a furious pink. Asuka huffed. Her heart kept racing.

“Weirdo. Let’s go already.”

She grabbed her hand and parted the crowds. Wave after wave would press them close until a break appeared, then it grew packed again. Not once did she feel their hands slip. When she slowed down descending the bridge stairs, Lili practically tipped them over. Asuka planted them against the handrail and let her right herself. The rest of the city flowed, some people throwing glares at having to step around them. She forgot about their hands feeling Lili’s breaths, her warmth, watching the flutter of her eyelashes. Her face felt hot; sweat started beading her clothes. Lili didn’t notice, instead scanning for their opening to move. Asuka licked her lips and tugged her along.  

The street thinned out beside the river. They stopped beneath a flashy yellow sign with a giant statue depicting Ebisu sitting above that. Don Quijote’s. She grinned.

“Is that a built in ferris wheel?” Lili blurted out, craning her neck toward Ebisu with awe. The lights on the carriages framing him were off.

“If it’s running every damn tourist and their family will want to ride it. It’d be dark by the time we left.”

Lili flashed her puppy dog eyes. Asuka quickly looked at the display shelves.

“What’s more important is the discount store! We need a new frying pan and I wanna check the deals.”

Something smooth swiped across her fingers. She saw Lili’s thumb retreat; they were still holding hands. Sucking her teeth Asuka let go. Taking her coy smile and bottomless poise with her Lili went ahead. It took strength to swallow and straighten her collar. Her phone beeped like a nagging little bird; tension fled her for sweet relief. Flipping it open, Dad’s message was a button away.

 [ Be home before 19:00.  Get a few instant udon, eggs, milk, and some instant curry. If I think of more I’ll text; have fun. ]

[ Thanks. ]

“What is this, a lineup of counterfeits? And so much candy and liquor…”

‘Ah shit.’

“Don’t go touchin’ anything we don’t need. I’m not trying to buy the place-“

She moved beside her with the halfhearted worry of an owner letting their dog free roam. Her words fell on deaf ears. Lili stood checking the bag display; her judging reflected off the glass case.

“This is a ‘discount store’ as you said no? Designer names truly do go places.”

“Those are second hand or something I dunno; can’t afford and don’t care about that crap.”

 “Neither do I; most are hideous and after a dozen or so from Father, simply boring.”

Asuka gawked.

“What? They’re only a few thousand euros it’s nothing.  It’s unlike here, where everything could be worth one but together bring such variety. For instance,”

She reached for something colorful off a shelf and thrust it at Asuka.

“What am I holding?”

“A water bottle.”

Lili grabbed another item. Asuka’s eyes narrowed, confused yet compelled to answer.

“House slippers.”

Another.

“Hair dryer.”

Another.

“Candy box.”

“See? Isn’t it interesting?”

“I don’t see your point. You’re just being weird.”

Lili’s expression soured.

“No. I’m demonstrating how you can gain so much at once for relatively little. There’s so much in fact you may be accustomed viewing it not as it is, but for what it does. And I find that fascinating.”

All her focus stretched and stretched then snapped wire thin. Asuka scratched her head absentmindedly. No matter how she tried there came nothing to say. Lili sighed, gesturing toward the row after row of displays, shelves, and cases boxing them in.

“Though I suppose, in the end, what value is there to anything unless it is beautiful.”

Their eyes met. There was a conviction, sincerity so keen from Lili, the feeling pierced Asuka warm as a sunbeam. She talked not through her but at her. Nothing hurt, and everything seemed a bit brighter. Fumbling for words took too long; Lili moved on checking the next thing over. Asuka spied kitchenware to her left. She wandered rather than move with purpose, winding her way without worry. Rifling through the pans she grabbed what called to her.

She spun a wide set thing whose steel mirrored her pondering in its pan. The handle was basic, sturdy, good. It carried a plain grace, a thing that knew what it was. She smiled. Looking around, there were a few grandmas downwind of her. Carefully she gave it a few swings; balanced weight too.  Playful laughter burned her ears; the grannies had glanced her way. Her face flushed and she scurried to find Lili, setting free a giggle at herself.

When they finally left she found herself loaded with their bags. Really, both were almost entirely for Lili. The frying pan she’d picked was drowned in a bright candy sea. Never in her entire life had she imagined becoming a spectacle at a cash register. Lili’s self-assuredness grew to confidence; embarrassment wasn’t in her dictionary. Asuka stood pretending they didn’t know each other when the clerk rang them up, trying to keep cool. But not a minute later she felt a squeeze on her arm, Lili gesturing toward the bags, wearing a winner’s smile. ‘We must agree you possess…a strength I do not.’ She’d said. Asuka sighed and found she couldn’t resist. It didn’t stop her grumbling and shoving at least one in Lili’s hand though.

She set their steady pace crossing the bridge again. This time Lili wasn’t all but on top of her ass, yet she didn’t stray. Asuka glanced up putting out an arm to stop her. Rainbow lights flashed then danced across their faces.

“I pass by this guy whenever I’m out y’know. Sometimes I tell myself his smile looks goofy but, the colors are beautiful. Then I might smile too.”

The Glico Man posed arms raised in triumph mid running stride. Behind his thick bold lines a sunny day at the track curving into Osaka’s skyline framed a massive rectangle. She stepped back, watching. Lili stared at him, holding her chin, studying. She didn’t look at Asuka as she cocked her head. The curves and angles of her face were outlined in a glow that softened the shadows.

“I suppose I do see why. There’s an aesthetic bringing every element together.”

Asuka’s stare lingered gently, foolishly, opening a smile holding an ember of her heart. She drank her in, unnoticed with nothing to rip them away. A feeling washed over her the way mist in summer snapped sleep from one’s eyes. Again she took Lili’s hand guiding her across the bridge.

“Hey! I was still looking.”

“We can come back whenever. There’s more around before the adult places open up.”

She tried not looking at her, and hoped the heat from her hands would be mistaken for the weather. They wandered keeping off the alleys and anywhere crowd thick. Every once in a while Lili’s nerves made them huddle under an awning. Asuka’s grip slid to her fingers, squeezing gently whenever the street thinned enough. She wanted an answer, tried guessing why she bothered as they walked. Why not let her go untethered? In the end she had nothing. The thought of leaving her helpless just felt wrong. If there was anything Asuka was ever gonna do, it’d be not sinking lower. Dad had taught her better. And such a fact meant she was more considerate. For some reason Lili never pulled away either.

She watched her so busy taking in whatever they saw that for once Lili wanted answers from her.  They found a rhythm. They’d walk silently until Asuka felt her arm tugged. Then she’d nod enduring the waterfall of precise questions and give a matter-of-fact answer. If they passed a food stall they didn’t leave till they each got something. If it went with sauces, Lili wasn’t satisfied unless she asked to try them one by one. More than a few cooks threw Asuka a glare or surprised stare. She’d smile her apology and pretended nothing mattered except eating as much as possible. Whenever they slapped a wad of bills from Lili’s designer wallet, all was forgiven. The more they went on the longer she gave her tour speech bite sized memories or rumors. A place could never stay a place- it was a feeling understood. Still, there were too many people around for Lili’s nervousness to go away.

“C’mon I’ll get us outta here.”

She brought them to the arcade she’d stuck herself in before the Kempo bastard appeared. Every other day after school Asuka would sink a few hundred yen trying anything new before falling back on her favorites. Whenever she wasn’t scheduled for teaching at the dojo, time meant nothing unless Dad showed up and dragged her home. Then she’d get an earful. She grinned. It’d been worth it anyway. The neon sign stood small as ever. Most of the posters plastering the entrance walls were alien to her. Some she remembered by shape only; as forgettable now as they were for the girl who’d once made a home here.  The white walls and checkerboard linoleum floor tricked people into thinking the rows of glittering cabinets were infinite. Half the customers were kids their age or younger. Planted at the fighting games like dried gum under a desk were the same grown men she remembered practically living there. She closed her eyes, and breathed in, at ease.

“What is this?”

“Not even an arcade? This is starting to feel like a joke. You play video or claw type games here. This place’s my favorite but I haven’t come in a while.”

The words were barely out her mouth before Lili dragged them along. A huge neon lit pad on the floor for a dancing game lay at their feet. Techno music banging from the cabinet thumped her chest as a tutorial played itself on the screen. She cocked her head.

“Really?”

Lili brushed back her bangs and cleared her throat.

“Asuka Kazama. I challenge you at a duel of dance!”

“Pft. You’re ridiculous. Don’t cry when you lose!”

They piled their bags against the wall; Asuka rolled her short sleeves further back. She started stretching against the rail fencing in the game cabinet and Lili joined her.

“Father sent me to ballet lessons I’ll have you know.”

“Is everything you have always because of ‘Daddy’?” Asuka taunted.

Lili rushed the stage, punching in a song and readying herself. She stood hands on hips as the bass started pulsing. Asuka snorted, crossing her arms.  Then she watched her move.

Her body all but glided, twirling from direction arrow to direction arrow effortlessly. Her long legs couldn’t take an instant off her speed; Asuka’s brow rose hearing the stage creak. Sometimes, when studying for weaknesses, a flash of Lili’s thigh might catch her eye. Or she’d linger on the flutter as her freed hair spun. Above all else was her face; the shit eating grin wiped from existence. And in its place the hard set of her jaw, a knit brow, and intense gaze.  She found the rhythm and matched it, outpaced it before it might outpace her. What Lili would call grace wrapped her in pure determination.

When the last note faded Lili wiped her neck with a handkerchief. She turned smiling that little self-assured smile; Asuka hummed. Then she made herself scoff, they weren’t alike.

“Do your worst.” Lili chirped.

“Shaddup.”

Asuka jostled her and straightened her shirt. She glanced at the screen; a new high score. She sucked her teeth. Breathe. Picking a song was easy, something fast but steady. Just right to make her heart race through her skin. A guitar strummed; the world narrowed to this moment. One step at a time, that’s all she needed. The notes rushed forward for her to stomp and chase. Sweat prickled her nape but she didn’t lose breath. Guitar riffs wailed rushing her as the arrows raced into each other. Her limbs became a storm; the wind curved softening her blows. She threw herself harder, hit each note faster.

Then her foot slammed through one of the pads like a hammer through a paper screen. Behind or in front she heard a crash. Though it slowed her the wind couldn’t keep her from falling- she felt herself grabbed. She glanced down. A centimeter or two right and her ankle would be finished. Lili sighed in what felt weird calling relief as she pulled her up.

“I suppose we shall call a draw.”

 One fat stack of cash later and the owner whistled on his way to calling a repairman. Her head still rang from panic and insults. They stood on the street, nothing but the summer heat to fog their embarrassment.

“This sucks.”

“You Kazamas and your sheer strength.” Lili sighed.

Asuka turned her head slowly, glaring.

“Don’t lump me in with that stupid dickhead.”

“Never. I find that insulting.” Lili scoffed, all softness gone.

Asuka’s face widened in surprise, her smile was gentle.

“Thanks.”

“…Ahem…You are welcome.”

She watched her move to fix her hair but Asuka’s hand got there faster. Carefully she tucked loose strands behind Lili’s right ear.  The stunned blush on Lili’s face made her stomach flip.

“Dad asked me to get some groceries before we’re home.”

“Perhaps this time you’ll save us both the spectacle of collapsing property.”

Lili laughed, full of mockery and teasing that came up short at the edges. It felt as if laughing would paint over her blush with anything else.

“Will you drop it?! This is why you’re annoying.”

“What does a market look like by the way?”

“Arrrghh!”

Passing under the Kuromon banner Asuka stood just to breathe it in. Fried food, flowers, loud signs, fruits, seafood, store clerks, people- this was Osaka. Her city. This time Lili glanced around and went ahead, strutting like a swan. Asuka cocked her head.

“Let us be on our way. Unless you’d prefer going hungry tonight I presume.”

“I don’t think so…” Asuka smirked.

They fell into another pattern at her lead; she’d hover around what she wanted, working over to the most expensive cut. After a few minutes Lili would find her and question what made that one special, did Asuka get it often, and on and on.  She’d sigh or pretend getting lost in her thoughts. Then she’d throw in a version of “We’ve been too broke for that; wanna try it with me?” or “Duh! Get it all the time, never had it before huh?” reminding her Dad must’ve shortchanged her allowance. Lili would pull out her wallet gasping and crying “That won’t do!” then buy whatever Asuka picked.

In this way, remembering they’d each have to carry a bag home, they bought everything off the top shelf. When they made it home she grinned until her face hurt and Dad stood stunned silent. He gave her ear a twist behind Lili’s back as she shared ‘their wonderful adventure’, stopping when Asuka winced.

“Don’t trick people.” He grumbled, whispering.

Then he saw the premium tuna cuts and marbled beef.

“Well, it can be harmless here and there.”

Asuka snickered into her wrist. Lili read it as a muffled cough, insisting they serve a hearty stew at dinner to ‘keep from feeling ill’. That night and many nights after they ate like kings.

She gripped the ends and tightened her headband. Her hakama was cinched just right as she checked the ties one last time. She straightened her gi collar, it’d picked up the laundry smell from her closet since she’d quit teaching; breathe in then out. Behind her Lili finished stretching, smirking. Her catlike stare couldn’t fog the pure clarity of Asuka’s mind. Strength surged filling her out as it coursed through her muscles, barely held by her smile. Her body had healed. Out of habit she rolled her right shoulder as they stood five paces apart.

“Are you prepared to be humiliated Asuka Kazama?”

“Just show me what you’ve got. I won’t make it hurt too bad.”

“You’ve made me wait long enough.”

Her heart jumped seeing that smile widen. It toyed with her. Her face went hot.

‘Exciting…’

“Let’s go, moron.”

They readied, the quiet held itself tight.

Lili’s kick was slapped away as Asuka closed distance, striking her with a left punch. To her surprise Lili turned with the blow, but even when it glanced, Asuka leaned into a right. That one connected and she wasn’t about to let her breathe; lunging threw her elbow forward, aiming for the jaw. In the move to dodge Lili narrowly escaped but glanced again on her scalp as she ducked low. A yelp cut her ears. She felt her balance waver in the feedback. Asuka stepped into her weight, bringing down her elbow at the blink of an eye. A certain hit- she met empty air.

Barely, just barely, Lili had rolled out the way. A streak of blood stained the back of her hand as Lili wiped her lips. Her already pale face almost dazzled all sweaty as she was. Asuka watched her panting, bent on one knee and big eyed. She watched her and washed in nothing but the clarity of this moment reset her stance.

“Et merde…” Lili sighed.

Asuka didn’t move.

‘That’s right you’re coming to me.’

She knew, and Lili knew she knew. Those glaring eyes calculated, hating how every option ran toward the same end. The distance begged to be closed or they’d get nowhere. Still a grin split Lili’s mouth flashing crimson teeth like a dog tasting raw meat. She felt her heart race. One heartbeat and she saw her launch from a cartwheel into the flight of slamming her heel on Asuka’s nose. No time to think! She sidestepped, grabbing Lili’s shin and tossing her behind. Riding that momentum into another roll, she recovered raining a waterfall of strikes. Most of them Asuka slapped away or dodged but soon her sides stung. Knocking Lili’s fist aside with her forearm she twisted and spun sending a back heeled kick flying up.

Her foot crashed missing Lili’s temple by centimeters. The impact shook her bones; it was enough to send Lili tumbling down. She crumpled on her side, groaning loud enough to wake the dead. Asuka felt herself huffing and shut her eyes. A good pause forced her to center again. The hairs on her nape relaxed.

Grunting and stirring Lili came back to life one limb twitch at a time. Somehow she found the strength to wobble into standing. A gleam shined under her disheveled blonde hair, an animal instinct. Their eyes met in an instant. Asuka leaned back; the strike scraped the tip of her chin. On reflex she shoved Lili aside with both palms flat against her chest. Deflated, Lili lay sprawled on the floor, a heap of sweat, loose hair, hard breathing, and biting shame. Frozen, it took a chill up her spine for Asuka to unclench. Several beats passed silently. She laughed; lightning storming through her veins. An adrenaline rampage withered, hollowing her into a drum pounding thunder in her chest to keep her standing. It was a thrill. It was joy. It was the world.  Her laugher roared, bursting like playful rain.  

Coughing and wincing Lili flipped herself onto her stomach. She curled inside the shape of Asuka’s towering shadow. She crouched and Lili’s stare followed. Reaching over she tilted Lili’s chin.

“You lost ‘cuz you think too much.”

She chuckled at her squinting eyes.

“Laugh at my failure would you…”     

Asuka gave her an amused smirk. She pulled her hand away. The world felt so light and airy with another whirlwind behind them.

“It’s my win but you can come at me any time.”

Again Lili sighed and rolled on her back. She started to pout but the longer it went the more it fizzled. Instead her brow scrunched. ‘Why are you better than me?’ it asked. And she pressed her answers in her mouth. She stood, reaching for her water bottle on the sidelines.

“Where…where did I overthink?”

“Better question is where you didn’t.” The water was still cold, liquid smooth.

Silence. She pressed.

“You waited before dodging, weighing where to go. You hesitated planning your approach when I gave you room. You were so focused on how you’d overwhelm me with your hits that you forgot paying attention to my tells.”

Lili draped her arm over her face. From under it Asuka saw her lips purse.

“…You almost got my chin though. It’s obvious you can move faster than before. And you can lean into a punch now.”

More silence. She started wiping off with her towel even if she didn’t need it as much. When she finished on her hairline Lili was staring at her. Those blue grey eyes were hard; the way a river stone is hard and smooth, anchoring itself against touch. Reassuring but muddied; it left a tingle in Asuka’s brain.

“The Mishimas could come take you whenever they please. Your records are child’s play for them to trace, for Jin Kazama.”

Asuka went stiff; her brow narrowed as if it were a gear turning through rust. Her cold gaze betrayed a drop of fear. She clenched her fist in place of a steady heart.

“He is blood related to you. And his mother Jun is alive, though I have no way of knowing if he’s realized. I’m not sure your father knows either. If Ms. Jun has plans I believe she will track down her son.  Depending on his thirst for war and schemes he may learn about you and grab you to prevent her from asking your help. He can turn you into a bargaining piece. Perhaps Kazuya Mishima will come to a similar conclusion and take you first instead. He was looking into the Kazama Clan after all. It wouldn’t be wrong to assume he knows of your family’s…innate gifts.”

‘Gifts?’

Asuka couldn’t feel her clenched fingers anymore. Her knuckles were fit to split the skin.

“…That fucking moron…and you think I’d just let him take me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Lili snorted.

“Then what do you get out of it? Why are you here?”

Lili sighed crossing her arms over her forehead. She stared into the ceiling.

“It’d be awful if you faced that devil alone, no?”

“…What?”

She backpedaled when Lili sprung to her feet.

“Now I’m afraid I must retire and bathe before this filth turns my stomach.”

“Hey wait, wait tell me more!”

But her long legs carried her from Asuka’s reach before her brain understood the weight of what sat on it. This was as far as she’d get today. Sucking her teeth, every hair on her body stood. Alone and aching she stomped around; a vicious cracking yell scattered her frustration. Then as she caught her breath, its echo faded in the hollow of her chest. She felt exhausted. Her will formed rods that kept her legs from sinking.

When she gathered her things she stopped suddenly. Leaning against the exit, she gripped the towel slung around her neck. Her eyes widened.

‘Does she like me?’

Every morning after they met for practice, took turns in the bath, ate a simple breakfast while making lunch, then they were off to school. Her bike still sat battered in the yard and Lili gave her the peace of not mentioning it. But now, sometimes, Asuka found herself giving it a glance. One tire pump here, a new chain, new brakes, some replaced bolts, and it’d be ready for new paint. She should probably replace the rubber on the grips too, or trim where it frayed. There were a million, million ideas.

At lunch the day they’d sparred, people of course noticed the split on Lili’s lip. Despite how Asuka had made her stay still to press some ice and rub a bit of petroleum jelly, the red and purple mark read as bright as a road work sign. Of course Asuka had apologized, scratching her lowered head and looking her in the eye. Lili chuckled at her. As if it had been a game or nothing at all. ‘Now we’ve each landed a blow on the other haven’t we?’

Asuka couldn’t claim to understand that girl, but it made a sort of sense. They were finally even at something.

She learned many things day by day. While not a genius Lili was a fast learner, diligent as much as she was disciplined. Whatever she did was finished almost as quick as it started with calculated execution. Lateness cut into time for ‘the simple pleasures.’ Asuka had never seen one person drink tea like it replaced water. Despite appearances she wasn’t well read, only keeping up enough to, ‘please my Father’s expectations.’ Yet those put her ahead of most people, and she thought nothing was worse than falling behind, or the idea she might.

At training her moves were explosive when left to herself. There was always more to perfect, another river to cross until her muscle memory submitted. When given a form for practice, she talked of strategies as she shuffled it into her arsenal. No matter the situation, she’d pull some technique or the theory of one out her ass. She had to be motivated with more praise than even the mildest critique or else she turned moody at best, bitchy otherwise. The longer she spent encouraging Lili (at times making Asuka tear at her own hair) the faster something dawned on her.

Maybe it wasn’t that Lili enjoyed toying with people so much as she wanted to never stop moving. There had to be another problem to solve, another scheme, another fun thing to start- enough so that they were never bogged down sharing their feelings. She weaved between teasing, sass, or halfhearted sulking. Anything more earned silence. And the unreadable wall formed in her expressions. Well, even when it made Asuka gnash her teeth this was about patience. Like Dad said.     

It wasn’t that Lili couldn’t remember moves or plan either; she just couldn’t get out her own head when faced with being hit. The possibility didn’t scare her she’d said, and for once Asuka agreed. She could counter Lili again and again, bruise her by occasional accident. Lili would trip over herself if that’s what it took to attack. Nothing dented whatever instinct drove that craving to win. She knew that’s what it was; a person couldn’t abandon themselves unless the rest of the world fell away. Few things matched the living lightning found in a fight.

They were sat on a day off school sipping water and drenched in the sweat of another practice.

“Unacceptable. Absolutely unacceptable! I should have gotten you when I went from low high jabbing to Matterhorn kick. It was the perfect cover.”

“The ‘unacceptable’ thing is you’re still using that. You’re wide open before anything lands.”

“Hush! I gave it a tremendous level of style. Who expects a rising kick with both legs from the ground? There’s an element of surprise worth the effort.”

Asuka squinted then shrugged. Their session replayed in her mind.  This time there’d been no cartwheels or insane flips. There’d been jabs, lots of jabs from every direction pushing Asuka’s reflex but never breaking it; the kicks she answered with her own as they missed each other by a hair. If she couldn’t dodge, she made sure Lili collided against the hardest bones. Her knees and elbows were wearing off from numbing pins and needles. Lili was fast; if only her battle sense could match pace.  Even a sweep kick forced her to adapt on the fly if it didn’t toss her outright. She took a long sip. Whenever Asuka had an answer for one method that moron fell back on what she best knew worked. That routine made her predictable.

Wait…predicable?

“Hey, how long have you been fighting again?”

“Why does that matter?”

Asuka flicked her forehead. Lili yelped and scowled.

“You want help then answer me.”

“…A year, if you must know.”

Instantly Asuka’s water sprayed from her mouth mid drink.

“A year?! And you ran to fight in two tournaments. Is your head on right?!”

“I fail at seeing the problem here. I can guard, I can attack, I train rigorously- there’s no reason I should be denied a test of my skills the same as anyone else.”

“That’s not even…you…I can’t believe this.”

“How many years do you have under your belt?” Lili snapped.

She stared at her in disbelief, gripping her water bottle to make sure this was real. The look on Lili’s face fell and a blush like a wave rose in its place. Neither said anything as they stared into space hugging their knees. Loud traffic revved through the walls. Another beat of gathered silence.

Asuka giggled.

“Don’t laugh.”

She laughed. Her mouth quivered as she set the bottle down. She laughed so hard her chest felt ready to cave in. Asuka tipped over collapsing at Lili’s side, pedal kicking her feet as she clutched her stomach.

“I’m not an idiot! Stop that!”

Softly, playfully, Lili whacked her everywhere demanding Asuka stay still. But not a minute passed before they were piled together roaring with laughter. She sat up.

“No wonder then why you keep being an easy read. You aren’t confident in your style!”

Again Lili scowled.

“You’re suggesting I lack experience.”

A loaded statement already, a question; Asuka groaned. Saying yes would have them bickering until the point ran away.

“What I mean is no one’s a master so quickly. Right now what I’d expect is someone comfortable in the basics. They’ve only started putting a foundation together for what they know and how they’ll use it. What school are you studying under?”

“I’m self-taught of course.” Lili said flipping her bangs and smirking.

Asuka buried her face in her hands.

“Forget feeling comfortable in the basics; you’re stuck at making shit up!”

“Such an accusation is ridiculous-“

“We’re doing you over. From the beginning.”

“This is unfair-“

“You can keep your crazy style. But since you wanna learn my school we do things my way when I think we should. Otherwise you’re not gonna learn a damn thing. You’ll never get any better.”

A growl rumbled her words as she took her hands off Lili’s cheeks, leaning over her. She was stared at as if she’d shot her; being stunned was the best way of getting through the concrete wall Lili had in place of a skull. They stared each other down. Asuka refused to budge her scowl a centimeter. Finally, Lili ‘Hmph’d and looked at the floor.

On their off days they started jogging around the block, staying in the quiet parts. After a rest when that was done they switched to spotting each other’s workouts and stretching. Each week Asuka would ask Lili to demonstrate a move from her flashy toolkit. That became the assignment she worked on until the next week. Lili would show the result of her drills by combining it with last week’s move; only then would Asuka teach her a complimenting Kazama technique.

At class Asuka never said so, but Lili’s notes started covering whatever went over her head. She never missed homework again; getting a test back now meant she got to wear her own smug grin. Not one teacher kept from throwing her a confused glare. Most kept their mouths shut. In their study sessions, Asuka either understood within Lili’s schedule, or else it got carried over to next time and not a second earlier. Even so, there always came a tease if she needed more than one explanation. Lili knew her way around cocky smirks and looking down her nose. It’d piss Asuka off more than it always had, if this time she didn’t need what the cat dragged in. Nothing could disturb Lili’s bubble baths, which she insisted on and Dad allowed so long as she used the tub last. She insisted on writing with fountain pens because ‘they’re mature don’t you agree?’ and easily color coded everything. Once, flipping through a notebook Lili lent her, she stopped dead at the table.

Page after page lay covered in sketches from top to bottom. The scenes included nature, random household objects, and an alley here and there. But those were just the scrap pages. Every picture before and after them showed Asuka. Some were labeled as ‘Her smile’ or ‘After today’s training’. Some were close ups of different expressions paired with figure studies in everyday poses. Did Asuka really look tough and handsome this much? There were the hard angles of her just before she got mad, the obvious confusion and wonder when she had to think. The carefree joy or satisfaction in her smiles, smirks, and grins. The cocky pride whenever she felt in control. The aimless frustration when she showed sadness. That one made her wince.

Each detail touched her greater than the last. Her heartbeats made a home in her throat when she saw their hands holding one another. She froze in her seat.

“Put that down this instant!”

She didn’t fight it when in a heartbeat Lili leapt up and snatched the book. Asuka chuckled nervously, no not nervous, she didn’t know why. She didn’t know what she was saying.

“If you keep drawing like that people will think you’re gay.”

Lili slammed the book closed, glaring. Then Asuka gasped softly; Lili’s lips were trembling, the entirety of her face grappling against bursting into tears. She watched her swallow. Then without a word she gathered all her stuff and stormed off. Asuka wanted to give chase, to throw any excuses but that’s exactly what they’d be, excuses. The air felt thick; a sand pit that’d drown her if she struggled. So she sat there, suddenly very small.

When Dad came home that night after visiting a friend, she told him Lili was too tired for dinner. She didn’t think of it as a lie; anger and sadness knew about killing anything that made you alive.

“You’ve been working her hard like you’ve always done when I needed you teaching. I’ll fix her a plate and you take it up, alright.”

“I guess…” She stirred her miso broth absentmindedly.

Asuka found her room door opened a crack with only her lamp light on. She balanced the food and went to knock- Lili started speaking, soft and hoarse. She must’ve been crying. Maybe Asuka shouldn’t have, but she stood, listening.

“I won’t be returning home Sebastian…of course I thought about it. No, a De Rochefort is not a coward! Spare me the thought…I’d rather die if so. No I don’t need you staying with me. Not yet at least. This is no pain or challenge I cannot handle. Oh but, well, thank you for your words. Yes, good night.”

She heard the thump of a phone on cloth. Lili spoke louder to herself, voice cracked.

“Why God, of all the people in the world why this one?”

Well she wasn’t gonna let her talk like Asuka wasn’t there. She gave the door a push with her foot.

“Yo, brought ya something.”

Lili stayed face down in the futon; her face lost in her pillow and under her hair. She groaned.

“Oh leave me alone you brute.”

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t serious.”

“…If it isn’t serious then why are you apologizing?”

Again Asuka went numbed. She had nothing but her fists when someone stuck their fingers in her own wounds. What was she supposed to do here, hit her? Over what, being mad at Asuka getting her to cry? It was stupid. She was stupid. But she wasn’t, she’d done a stupid thing. She didn’t go around living so that everyone else got inconvenienced. Saying nothing she cleared space and set dinner on her desk.

Her body tingled, restless, her blood vibrating her veins. The shapes of her room didn’t register. She kept herself together as she stepped out and down the stairs. Her mind was blank. She stepped inside the dojo not caring about having her pajamas on. She rushed past the wall sign stopping at the center of the hall. And she trained. The forms were muscle memory, all routine. Safe. They didn’t ask anything except that her body keeps up. In the middle of stumbling some lift kicks she saw Dad watching. He looked more patient with her than she deserved.

“Everything alright?”

“I can handle myself.”

“Sure you can, kicking off center like that.”

She narrowed her eyes. He shrugged and made his way over.

“I’ll observe. Take it from the top.”

A crack called gratitude broke her frenzy.

Lili wouldn’t speak to her. Day after day they still met for morning practice, but did their work in separate corners. Dinner was spent taking turns talking to Dad as they ate in a race to not finish together. He threw Asuka a look sometimes in between but held whatever he could’ve said. She read an understanding on his face. This was their problem. Breakfast was cold silence without him; a performance where they tried everything stupid or practical to not make eye contact. The study sessions stopped. She tried giving a sign to ask about it. Lili pretended she didn’t exist.

The next week she got back a failed test, a red thirty two took up a huge corner so anyone could see. Her math teacher adjusted his glasses, condescending down to his walk. He let her stew in failure as she curled against her desk. Her failure, again. The rumor flies picked her clean with the feel of their stares.

At lunch Lili did stay near her, but ‘near’ became moving her desk six meters apart facing away. Not really sitting with anyone else and not a message she couldn’t read either. It made her collar itch. Try as she might there’d be no way she could approach without causing a scene. Burying herself in her food and keeping quiet became the new routine. Once after a few days of this, Ayako and her goons saw opportunity. Lili glared at them as if she were a knife, like she might snap them as easy as a twig. It gave Asuka hope.

Hope? Why was she letting this matter the way it did? If Lili, the nail sticking her ass whenever she appeared, finally stopped annoying her then how was this bad? It was stupid.

‘I did a stupid thing.’

That was the reason; it had to be.

‘I hurt someone just because.’

The truth, then, cut sharper than everyone else’s lies.

On their off days Asuka started solo training, putting wherever her sulking half was out of mind. The basics were forever there. Shadow fights imagining opponents carried a real challenge. There was always more to try, more to perfect, a feeling of faster or stronger. She started with one random punk then added them in twos. She dodged; swept their legs, whipped their momentum around until they opened for punches. Kicks were a whirlwind leaving rippling winds in her wake, force whistling as it cleaved the air. Her foot bounced whenever she launched herself high; her body rocketing along the flight she’d set herself. As if she switched from floating into a pebble flying from a slingshot. The tip of her nose brushed the ceiling. A jolt of panic fried her; she killed it and tucked into a roll as she fell.

What the hell was this?

Her skin turned hot where the wind had touched it. Not a burn or ripping of blood; this time it passed over her like hands of sunlight. Under the summer heat it breathed into her as if the first clear day of spring. She lifted her head, standing, comforted by its embrace. All her worries blew, carried on the breeze. Then being the wind it passed and settled faster than it arrived. Every part of her felt light. Clenching her fist, she smirked. Whatever this was, it seemed ready to help. And that meant…

‘Time for a test!’

“I’m headin’ out!”

“Be back before nightfall.” Dad called as she slipped on her shoes.

“I know.”

Lili came down the stairs minding her business. Had Asuka left a second earlier she would have missed the slightest curious glance thrown at her. But that was it before Lili disappeared into the kitchen. Her chest jumped. Whatever, she could think about that later.

The sky stretched clear forever with the sun hanging gold smack in the center. People were a guarantee. Today she didn’t run, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her shorts and drinking in the day. People started crowding as she hit the main avenues; no one paid her any attention. Even if someone did, they’d see a friendly smile not the hunger leashed in her eyes. She kept her ears sharp ignoring any chatter; she wanted shouting. She wanted action. Asuka waited and walked and waited. Then she crossed into Shinsekai. A wolfish grin twisted her mouth.

In the middle of a shopping square some boys were in each other’s faces, seven altogether by her count. Lined up and shouting enough to spit they’d clash at the drop of a hat. Immediately she broke into a run. Someone at the front raised his fist; she jumped, flipped, and tucked in the air.

“Hold it right there!”

Scattering like bugs they yelled in surprise and cleared some space. Her effortless, cool landing left them speechless. When she stood she gave them a smile; camera, lights, action! Justice!

“Who the hell- oh not you again!”

“Ms. Asuka? Crap, crap, crap!”

Dusting off her hands Asuka shook her head. One gang she recognized not as the guys who helped her home, but a separate group she’d left in pieces before them. The others made her right eye twitch to remember. They’d get theirs as many times as it took till they learned their lesson.

“I’m disappointed. Haven’t I already told ya off? No fighting! No fighting where people are either. What if you dragged some grandma into your mess or busted down a shop? You can’t go around doing that.”

The boys who she thought knew better bowed their heads; someone she assumed was a new member had his head forced down by a senior.

“We’re deeply sorry Ms. Asuka. For sure, for sure we won’t lift a finger!”

“Don’t apologize to me. Just play nice like I ask.”

The leader guy with slicked back hair, his nose had healed crooked after its visit with her fist, got right in her face.

“I’m not like these pussies you little bitch. Try harder. We can go right now.”

Asuka sighed. His gang glanced at each other, afraid, backing him up anyway.

“If that’s true you wouldn’t bother talking. But you brought me on yourself!”

Roaring he threw out punches she knocked away, lunging himself in pursuit until she glanced the wobble of his left leg. Now! She went low sweeping him so fast it wasn’t a question of waiting for his fall, he just hit the ground. One moment he was a body under gravity, then the shutter on a camera, and he laid a groaning wreck. Her kicks would’ve gone off course as she reined them in within an instant. Her rhythm needed a new tempo. Her limbs were free and her muscles flowy, like how paper streamers became part of a breeze.

‘Amazing!’

Leader boy stumbled up as she flung her knee into his stomach. The wind wheezed from his lungs; her elbow drop swiveled his head with a thud. In that same second she wheeled around and with a single kick slammed him into the pavement. His gang threw themselves out the way. A tailwind curled from the force of her leg, cracking the concrete of a building behind them. The crash vibrated for longest blip in their lives.

At her feet leader boy made no sound. She saw the shallow rise and fall of his back; at least he was still alive. His friends took a look at him, then back to her, and back to him. Without build up their screams exploded; each one bundled into shrieking fear. They sprint away white as ghosts, clinging to any value they saw left in living.

She breathed in. She exhaled, giddy. Her mind blanked.

Asuka turned around and found the remaining boys gawking. Stunned until not only had they forgotten words, their eyeballs were gonna pop out their sockets. Her movement carried more energy than she knew what to do with. She could fly around the sky till the Earth itself was just a blue ball. Say something, anything to come down again!

“So, like I was saying! If you guys wanna be good then make nice with each other. Cuz’ if you don’t…”

She rested her foot on leader boy. Finally he groaned.

The boys watched, their mouths hanging open. Someone cried out,

“If we behave enough can we feel your boobs?”

Sailing in midair, everyone placed bets on how long till he came down.

Another morning at training she finished early and watched Lili work. Bit by bit she started leaving the simple behind. She weaved in and out of jabs and kicks, and backflips into stomps. She threw herself twisting into a cartwheel that became a flip. Down went her foot preparing a heel drop; Asuka remembered the hawks diving for fish on one of Dad’s favorite nature shows. Lili landed safe doing a split. Her sweaty face turned red steadying her breathing. A picture of focus came to Asuka’s mind.

She sat cross legged and watched, resting her chin on her hand as Lili got up. Then the routine reset. The forceful flurry of Sunrise Sunset’s striking twirled into a somersault that brought Lili low against the floor. When Asuka asked her about the silly name Lili had scoffed, ‘because I’m hitting high then low obviously.’ Of course, she angled herself, sticking her legs together and launching high into Matterhorn. Sweat splattered off Lili’s brow; her grimace carried the strain holding her muscles in place. Practicing or on the street under chaos, they earned the same effort. Tired, Lili finally flopped on her back.

“You’re not so bad at this, y’know.”

No response. Lili stared at the ceiling catching her breath. Reaching to undo the bun her blonde hair spilled around her slender neck. Her heart shaped face looked outlined by a gold brush. Her pink bow shape lips parted for sweet air, not pursed or confusing Asuka like she knew everything in the universe. Lili was so, normal. Normally pretty. Asuka tried imagining her real smile.

“I’m sorry, Lili.”

The spell broke; they stared into each other’s eyes. And for the first time, joy and joy alone bloomed open across all Lili was.

‘Wait a minute. This is my first time saying her name!’

Lili giggled playfully, honestly, waking herself from a bad dream and relieved. She sat up.

“My, you’re in agony after trampling a beautiful flower.”

“Don’t push it.”

Lili chuckled.

The next day off Asuka stepped out the bank. She walked smiling for herself alone. It was time to fix her bike.

[sitp-recs]

Happy Friday, friends! I’ve never done monthly wrap ups before but since Wireless pulled me back from a brief hiatus, I thought it would be cool to share some things I’ve been reading, that could use more love. 10 fics both old and new, Drarry and rare pairs, Wireless treats; pick your poison and have fun! 🙌

Drarry

Muscle Memory by @corvuscrowned (E, 7k) - brilliant concept perfectly executed, I’m so here for curse-breaking colleagues who fuck at the job to pass time and then forget about it every time 🤌🏼 genius and intriguing and captivating as per crow’s usual

There's something just beneath the surface, just at the periphery of Harry's mind. They've been here before — they've done this before. If only he could remember it.

And Embers at Your Lips by @nametheshadows (T, 15k) - sequel to one of my all-time favorite 8th year fics with insomniac roommates just as soft and healing as LLAYF. Gorgeous prose and all the kissing. Highly rec this series for A+ comfort food!

The sequel to Like Lightning at Your Fingertips: the kissing montage. And there’s that thing with Potter’s magic.

Rich Friend, Anon (E, 18k) - one of my faves from Wireless, pop star!Draco never gets old and both the pacing and the romance are perfectly developed! I live for Harry’s horny yearning and for their road trip together, kudos to casual Harry/Neville as a side ship!

As far as Harry can tell, Draco Malfoy is still rich as hell. He’s just not a wizard anymore. Featuring: Draco Malfoy trying to make it as a Muggle pop star, Harry Potter as our confused and horny hero, bad driving, good music, and the mysterious magic of falling for someone.

Waking Up Slow, Anon (E, 22k) - this ode to advent Drarry fics took my breath away with a charming Draco, fun dynamics, an enchanting Christmas shop and one of the sexiest smut scenes I’ve read this year, 10/10 recommend for hot & sweet magical vibes and lots of references as an homage to the classics!

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

We Are Legend by Vaysh (E, 38k) - happy to report to @romaine2424 that I have finally read this epic apocalypse AU and am shooketh with its originality and serious tone. One of the most creative takes I’ve seen on animagus Draco, a poignant and devastating war story.

Eighty years into the future, Voldemort won. Harry Potter is a renegade wizard, Portkeying Muggles out of London to Hogwarts, last sanctuary in a Britain ruled by the Dark Lord. On a mission he encounters a powerful phoenix Animagus fighting on the Death Eaters' side. He recognises Draco Malfoy whom he thought long dead. But the differences between them are perhaps even greater than before. Cw: MCD

LA, Who Am I To Love You?, Anon (E, 42k) - I cannot believe this beauty was written for my lil Wireless prompt ♥️ perfect LA vibes, gorgeous aesthetics, horny ust and a fascinating take on both down and out bi Harry and out and proud bi Draco, we love to see it! Couldn’t have asked for a better story to fill my prompt, ty anon!

Harry’s summer in LA is not going as expected. Pansy Parkinson keeps inviting him to parties in the Hollywood Hills and harassing him to finally go to the physical therapist, Blaise Zabini keeps slipping new strains of his company’s magical weed into Harry’s pockets in hopes of an endorsement, and Draco Malfoy keeps having sex with everyone but Harry.

Rare Pairs

A Different Tune by November Snowflake (M, 8k) - very nice Dron get together, short & sweet with an undercurrent melancholy that I love, just what I needed before bed

Working in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office has led Ron to many strange encounters--but none more unexpected than this one. Cw: Harry’s dead

The Years Between by brummell (M, 14k) - another rare pair fave, this Rarry fic told from Ron’s smitten and jealous pov as he helps Harry recover from a coma is so deliciously raw and angsty. Gorgeous slow burn, the feels!

For both Harry and Ron, a wake-up call is just the beginning.

Things Remembered by avioleta (E, 17k) - best Snarry fic I’ve read this year, I’m low key obsessed with this hitmen + amnesia concept and how the romance develops so organically while they’re on the run. Intriguing plot, sexy ust and super scorching smut that made me salivate jfc 🔥

Harry wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar hotel room, and with absolutely no idea who he is. The man he’s in bed with has no memories either. But they think, maybe, they’re assassins, because they seem to be very good at killing people.

A Dress with Pockets by PacificRimbaud (E, 25k) - a Panville classic recced by anon (ty!!), what a sexy and vibrant read! I LOVED Neville and their dynamics are brilliant and so funny, I just couldn’t get enough of these characters. 100% sold on this ship pls and thank

Pansy Parkinson needed a drink. And a shag. She didn't care in which order. Enter: Neville fucking Longbottom and his rolled up sleeves.

[circledemptiness]

Nightcall

Fandom: Batman (Arkham Knight) Pairing: Edward Nigma (The Riddler) x Reader Rating: Explicit +18 Tags: Light angst & comfort, Edward is bad at feelings, oral sex

✦ Part 2 of Show Me What You Dream Of ✦ Read on AO3

In those quiet moments, thoughts of you flood in, clinging like vines that take root deep within him –persistent and unruly. Once they settle, they grow wild, spiraling into selfish longings: to see you, to hold you, to breathe in every moment by your side. He can’t afford that –not now, not when he’s on the brink of success (and he is close, isn’t he?). Yet, the ache remains, a quiet reminder of everything he tries to push away. Edward struggles to understand his feelings for you while burying himself in work, but your presence reignites a desire he can no longer ignore.

Edward Nigma, the Riddler, Gotham’s one true genius cannot sleep. He doesn't dare shift or stir, afraid of waking the beautiful woman resting on top of him. Your face, reminiscent of a figure painted by Caravaggio himself, is nestled against his chest, while your delicate hand rests softly on his sternum. His arm is wrapped around your waist, holding you close in an embrace that feels unfamiliar, yet comforting. His thumb traces absentminded patterns on your skin, savoring the warmth of your presence, though his mind has already begun to wander.

In the quiet depths of the night, Edward’s mind races, galloping through the vivid memories of your touch, your voice, your every sigh –each moment a revelation of sensations he had never known until now, all brought to life by your hands. A fleeting thought, more obscene than he's accustomed to, stirs a slow-burning warmth in his core, and had he been a few years younger, it might have easily sparked his sex back to life. Alas, his refractory period no longer keeps pace with his otherwise decent physical condition, maintained through his manual activities. Thankfully, you fell asleep seemingly satisfied –otherwise, it would have probably been embarrassing.

Three. That’s the number of faint, imperfect specks on your ceiling. Not bad for a building that looks like it was built in the '90s. Or had they repainted and fixed it before you moved in? A tickle –your breath, warm against his chest, light and delicate, like a gentle wave licking the shore. There’s an eyelash on your cheek, long and dark, that he dares not to remove. With your body pressed close to his, he can feel the steady rhythm of your heart against his chest, a soothing melody that might have lulled him back to sleep –if he hadn’t preferred to let his thoughts drift. His fingers drum softly against your waist, counting the beats. Fifty-six per minute. Do you have low blood pressure? Ah – you shift in your sleep, sliding your leg between his. Your sex presses against his thigh. Warm, wet. How much of this belongs to him? How much was because of him?

Edward turns his head, trying to decipher the decor of your bedroom through the near obscurity, his emerald eyes searching for anything meaningful –or even meaningless– as long as it reveals more about you. Several dresses are draped over the back of a chair (did you hesitate between them tonight?). Two mugs sit on your desk, one marked with a trace of lipstick (what do you usually drink when you’re home alone?). A forgotten comic book, isolated from the rest of your collection in the living room, lies quietly nearby. Five –no, six– postcards lean against the wall (who writes to you? Do you write back?). Three sceneries from Europe, an illustration of fruits, a detail of the painting Radeau de la Méduse by Géricault, the last one an encyclopedic engraving of bats . The corner of his mouth twitches nervously.

Had he been in his workshop at the orphanage right now, he would be diligently working on his latest trap. What time is it anyway? Three? Four in the morning? He hasn’t been making the progress he had hoped for lately. Distracted. His heart heavy with concern and ambiguous longing. Yet, now that he no longer worries about the tension between the two of you, he feels a renewed motivation blossoming in his heart. A blazing fire ignites, bringing blueprints and schemes to life in his mind. There isn’t a minute to spare, not when his Creation is calling. Not that he doesn’t enjoy your warm embrace, but surely one should not indulge too much in good things, lest they spoil it.

Yes, he has made up his mind; he must leave your tempting cocoon and be productive before it’s too late. Glancing one last time at your tender face, Edward pushes aside the tightness in his chest at the thought of leaving you in the middle of the night. Gently, he peels you off his body and rolls you onto your side. Your breath hitches, and for a moment, he worries he has awakened you; but as soon as he lays you back on the mattress, your breathing resumes, turning into soft sighs once again.

His thumb caresses the forehead of his Sleeping Beauty, and a stray thought appears in his mind before it quickly fades. Am I making a mistake? No, certainly not. Duty calls, and there is no time for sensitivities right now. His mouth presses into a thin line as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, taking in your soft features one last time before he leaves your bed, awkwardly gathering his scattered clothes from the floor. With his coat tucked under his arm, Edward makes sure he hasn’t forgotten anything before glancing one last time at your apartment and nodding to no one as he closes the door behind him as quietly as possible.

✦ ✦ ✦

Once he arrives at the orphanage, Edward heads to his bathroom, shedding his evening clothes in favor of his work attire, occasionally glancing at his reflection. A proud smile spreads across his face at the blooming mark you left on his neck, his fingers tracing its shape and testing its tenderness. For a fleeting moment, he catches a glimpse of the young man he once was, driven by a confidence he sometimes feels is lacking nowadays. 

A heaviness churns in his stomach and knots in his throat –an unfamiliar discomfort he believes is akin to longing. Closing his eyes and drumming his fingers against his neck, he can almost feel his skin radiating your warmth, the tightness of your embrace, and the lingering passion of your kisses on his lips. The faint metallic noises behind the door pull him back from his reverie, and after buckling his belt in one swift motion, he leaves the room, a quiet murmur in his heart, hoping the echoes of your presence won’t follow him.

Edward’s insides stirs with a fiery passion, as if a renewed vigor blossomed overnight (though he’s not quite ready to admit that you might be the reason why). Deft fingertips religiously trace the blueprints of his latest machine, meticulously crafted over the past few weeks. He can already picture it standing proudly, operating in the deep, dark bowels of Gotham’s sewers. He’s even humming a tune, barely audible over the metallic clatter around him. 

Once his latest trap –a complex cage with a devious puzzle designed to either push the caped crusader to his limit or reward him with his poisonous prize– is complete, Edward’s emerald eyes glow with the intensity of a thousand moons in the dim light of the sewers. His heart races, swelling with a proud arrogance that feeds his ego. He takes a deep breath, basking in his own glory for a moment –and if he happens to praise his brilliant intellect during this near-trance, well, that’s neither here nor there.

After hours of intense labor, he takes a brief break, sitting on the nearest stool, which creaks under his weight. He grabs a bottle of water and gulps it down with abandon, the cold liquid feeling like ambrosia as it flows down his parched throat. Grime rims his eyes where his goggles once sat, while a thick layer of sweat and grease coats the rest of his body. A few cuts and bruises have mysteriously appeared, though he’s unsure when or how, too absorbed in his work to notice the minor discomfort. He’s long since grown accustomed to the physical toll of his work, so his condition is hardly surprising. His body reeks of effort, oil, and filth, but none of these details can dull the fierce flame of his passion –not when it burns so brightly right now.

Some of his peers don’t understand how he can immerse himself so obsessively in his work, with a few even calling it a waste. Still, most would agree that he is, at the very least, hardworking –though no one would dare phrase it that way, for fear of inflating his ego and making him endlessly gloat. “Deluded,” Cobblepot would call him instead. He doesn’t care either way. He knows the reason behind each step he takes.

Swallowing the last of his water, Edward allows his fatigued body to relax. He feels his taut muscles roll painfully as the pressure on his shoulders melts away during his brief break, knowing he still has much left to do. He retrieves his phone from his pocket, a somewhat odd habit he developed since you both started conversing more frequently. Previously, he would become so engrossed in his work that he often rejected any form of outside communication for days or even weeks at a time.

His heart skips a beat when your name flashes on the screen beside the icon of a new text message. With a childlike impatience and an excited smile, he quickly opens it. Then, his smile falters slightly, his brow furrows as his expression grows perplexed.

You didn’t want to spend the night?

A most curious question, he thought to himself, one he’s uncertain how to answer. However, he felt he should respond, especially since you had sent the message almost four hours ago.

I had a project to finish urgently. A success! I will tell you all about it someday. Thank you for your hospitality.

His smile is bright as he gleefully thinks about the next time he’ll see you – not now , but someday, surely . Already, he can hardly wait to share his victory with you, to show off his masterful skills. Will you praise him then ( congratulate him with a kiss )? Moments after he presses “send,” the tell-tale three dots of your incoming response appear. Your eagerness makes his chest swell with pride–

I see.

Not quite the reaction he was hoping for, he has to admit. Shouldn’t you be glad for him – impressed , at the very least? Edward furrows his brow, staring at your brief, unsatisfying two-word response. Confusion flickers in his mind. He expected more from you, a little excitement, maybe. Instead, he wonders whether you really grasped the importance of his craft. With a sigh, he slips his phone back into his pocket. He’ll figure it out eventually. For now, he neither has the time to dwell on it, nor the will –especially not when he’s having such a productive day.

✦ ✦ ✦

A quick shower and some takeout food conclude his day –or night; he’s lost track of time by now– the thrill of a job well done still pulsing through his veins. He basks in the satisfaction of his progress, admiring the metallic ecosystem he’s building with his own hands, an intense sense of pride swelling within him. He hasn’t noticed how the hours have stretched into days as he worked on the latest section of his design, expanding his green territory. Occasionally, stray thoughts of you surface –wondering what you are up to, if you’re doing well. A flicker of guilt blooms when he realizes how he’s already forgotten the warmth of your last encounter, too brief to truly carve it in his memory. 

He promises himself he’ll call you… very soon. Eventually . But first, he’ll just finish revising Gotham’s internal circuit network. And maybe build a couple more Riddlebots. Oh, and check that the camera system is capturing everything perfectly. Running a security sweep on his latest devices might be a good idea too—

A buzzing sound. His phone vibrates on the metal table, rattling screws, tools, and half-empty coffee mugs, the clatter loud enough to break his focus. Glancing at the screen, Edward’s eyes widen when he sees your name.

Would you be free tomorrow for lunch?

Two weeks have passed since your last messages, he realizes, a pang of shame creeping in. Edward sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he contemplates how to respond. Now isn’t the time , he tells himself, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth –but then, when will it be? He’s making such progress in his design, and he’s simply so relentlessly busy. He slumps on his stool, his thoughts drifting into a corner of his mind he never expected to explore.

His heart aches in a way he barely recognizes, a hollow pain that surfaces when his mind isn’t consumed by his work. In those quiet moments, thoughts of you flood in, clinging like vines that take root deep within him –persistent and unruly. Once they settle, they grow wild, spiraling into selfish longings: to see you, to hold you, to breathe in every moment by your side. He can’t afford that –not now, not when he’s on the brink of success ( and he is close, isn’t he? ). Yet, the ache remains, a quiet reminder of everything he tries to push away.

When he’s working, his mind locks into place, wiring itself to his puzzles, connecting with his truest nature. This is what he knows best, the thing that brings him a sense of purpose (or is he confusing purpose with comfort?). It’s the only way he can push thoughts of you aside, erasing you from his subconscious just long enough to focus on his greater plan. Surely, you’d understand. After all, you’ve been able to read his mind with such baffling ease, as if you already know what hides beneath the surface.

Seeing you means exposing a vulnerability that drains him to his core. His lifeless creations don’t judge or expect anything from him –they can’t be disappointed. He’s also long since stopped caring about the venom his peers spew when he crosses every line, dismissing them as beneath him. Their approval means nothing. But with you, it’s different. You place him in a situation that feels unfamiliar, unsettling. Terrifying. It’s as if, to truly reach you, to keep you, he’d have to peel away more than just his skin and bare his very heart. And in turn, he’d have to strip himself down to something raw, something open, for you to touch him in a way that matters. And that is something he cannot allow, cannot accept.

Edward overthinks, phone in hand, unsure of what to say. His brows knit together as the image of your hurt expression takes shape in his mind, growing sharper with each minute he leaves your message unanswered. It unsettles him, makes his chest tighten, his body freeze. A cold, creeping sensation –something close to fear, though he can’t quite grasp why. So instead, he does nothing. He sets the infernal device down and goes to bed, leaving it abandoned on the table.

I miss you , reads the message that arrives after he’s already left.

✦ ✦ ✦

After a few hours of restless sleep, Edward stirs awake. But today feels different. His body feels impossibly heavy, as though weighed down by something unseen, pinning him to the bed. He sighs, rolling onto his side, rubbing his eyes –maybe if he sleeps just a little longer? He shifts uncomfortably, his face pressed into the pillow, searching for something –a soothing touch, a tender word, a gentle caress. Oh , right, he’s thinking of you again. He sighs, a sour taste of defeat on his lips, his mood crashing lower and lower, sinking beneath the surface of the sea as you plague his mind.

How can he simultaneously wish for your presence to soothe his worries and long for your existence to be nothing more than a dream?

After long, painful minutes of battling the invisible weight pressing against his chest, Edward finally leaves his bed, dragging his fatigued body to the main room of his workshop. He almost comically avoids his phone, as if it were made of fire, and instead grabs blueprints and maps, laying them out on the desk before him. Yet, the task proves daunting; he reviews the same points over and over until they seem to be written in an alien language. Frustration grows burning within him. You know these plans by heart; you created them! he chastises himself, furrowing his brow as the sting of annoyance spreads inside him.

His phone rings, the vibrations causing the tools on the desk to clatter, startling him. He swallows thickly, panic flickering in his eyes as he glances at the screen. Your name appears almost ominously, and a soft whimper escapes his lips, reminiscent of a frightened creature on the brink of being discovered. Eventually, he steels himself and picks it up.

“Hello?” Edward masks his discomfort with a thick layer of confidence, trying to hide the slight tremor in his voice.

“I was starting to think you were avoiding me.” There’s a hint of humor in your tone, but he can still sense the bitterness underlying your words. Edward clears his throat, stepping out of his workshop, feeling strangely exposed in this frigid place.

“I’m sorry, I got… busy.” He believes his apology is sincere. On the other end of the line, he hears you sigh, undoubtedly choosing your next words carefully. He continues, “How– how have you been?”

– Well, as good as I can be, I suppose, having been essentially ghosted for weeks .” Your voice drips with hurt, and Edward supposes he understands why. As he enters his bedroom, he closes the door behind him and sits on the edge of the bed, cradling his forehead in the palm of his free hand, leaning his elbows on his thighs.

He knows he should be saying something –intellectually, he’s aware of it. An apology hovers just out of reach in the back of his mind, but the words elude him, caught in a web of his own struggles. Instead, he opts for something simpler, a truth he holds dear, his voice barely rising above a whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

You sigh, and there’s a long pause before you respond.

“You could have called.” He could have. He should have.

“I had… a lot on my mind.” The closest he can come to an apology. There’s a question in the way you hum, urging him to elaborate, to provide a proper explanation. But nothing satisfying comes to mind. Instead, he chooses the next best thing. “Time slipped through my fingers, and there was so much that needed to be done here.”

Another sigh. Another pause. The silence stretches between you, heavy and uncomfortable.

“Alright, I understand. You’re busy . I can… I can work with that –maybe. But can you make room for me –for us– in your schedule?”

Edward clears his throat. He doesn’t even know what “us” means, what it represents, or what he truly wants from it.

“I can’t do casual with you, Edward. I can take it slowly, I can adapt. But I need you to work with me.”

A boundary. He can respect that. In fact, it comforts him to know your position; it guides him, even if just a little. His voice is soft, almost secretive, laced with deep-rooted insecurity. 

“I don’t know what I want.” Why does it feel like an admission of guilt? Why do the words sit heavy in his throat? And why are you so painfully silent ?

“Well –would you like to explore whatever this is with me?”

You’re giving him an out. He knows it, and he understands the unspoken expectations that come with accepting your offer. Edward closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he inhales deeply. Overwhelmed. He recognizes your patience, but he still isn’t sure it’s enough for him. He doubts his ability to give you what you want ( what do you want?). Yet, he knows he needs your presence in his life. Every fiber of his being yearns for you. That much is undeniable. Think harder, Nigma!

“…Edward?

— Yes , sorry. Alright, yes. We can… explore . I can do that.”

You hum, but he can’t tell whether it’s in relief or worry –perhaps it’s something in between. He hates that he makes you feel uncomfortable; he hates that he feels uncomfortable. Yet, intertwined with his self-hatred is a glimmer of something more tender, a cautious hope. He still doesn’t fully understand the weight of his words or where this burgeoning connection with you is leading him. All he knows is that as long as you hold his hand and guide him through his opaque thoughts, he might just discover something beautiful on the other side. Why is everything always so complicated?

“Edward?” Your voice is soft and tender, like a caress. Lying on his back, Edward hums in acknowledgment, suddenly feeling drained and exhausted, as if he has just run a marathon. “Can I come over?”

“Right now?” Propping himself up on his elbows, Edward assesses his state. He’s covered in a miasma of grime that only a shower has partially remedied, and his utilitarian bedsheets are just as damp with sweat as he is. He knows he’ll need to shower and change the linens before welcoming you. He might even have to declutter the workshop of anything dangerous. But what about the circuit in the sewers? What about Gotham’s network? I’m not done—

– If you’ll have me, of course.” His heart beats frantically as he fights against his old habits –the urge to shut you out, to ignore you, to ruin everything. Self-sabotaging , Crane would probably say (but what does he know anyway?). Instead, Edward nods (on the phone – great job, Nigma ).

“Edward?”

– Yes, yes– sorry. I would love that. Just give me an hour.”

You hum, and this time it’s a sound of deep relief, one that resonates within him.

✦ ✦ ✦

Edward doesn’t have time to dress up properly or prepare the abandoned orphanage to make it as welcoming as possible –not when lethal machines, robotic guardians, and other obscure plans are scattered everywhere. Still, he manages to take a shower, ensuring he doesn’t appear completely repulsive after weeks of hard labor. Apprehension gnaws at his heart, a fear of the unknown, as he prepares to meet you for the second time on… different grounds than before.

You had visited him on more or less impromptu occasions in the past, but everything feels different since your first date. Whether he likes it or not, your dynamic has shifted, and isn’t this what he wanted? Then why does it still feel so scary?

He catches the enticing aroma of take-out food before the sound of your light footsteps reaches him, coaxing him to turn in your direction. His heart plummets in his stomach at the sight of you; as if you’ve casted a spell around him, your beauty captivates his senses. Though, he knows, subconsciously, that it’s not just your appearance that enthralls him –it’s what you embody. Tenderness radiates from your face, and your smile whispers the words he yearns to hear.

As you draw closer, he greets you with a lopsided, almost timid smile, one that betrays his doubt and discomfort. A tumult of emotions churns within him: a flutter of excitement at your presence, a pang of anxiety over the uncertainty of this situation, and a fragile hope that he can traverse this uncharted territory without losing himself in the process.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving!” you declare with a hint of triumph as you set the paper bags down on a nearby desk. The gesture feels so domestic that it makes his heart swell. He’s only half-listening as you describe the food you’ve brought, lost in the warmth of the moment. Almost instinctively, without a second thought, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close, burying his nose in your hair, inhaling your earthy scent. Your hand caresses his forearm, and you tilt your head just enough to press a soft kiss on his jaw, your fingers cradling his face. Oh , he’s missed you.

You turn to face him, the back of your thighs brushing against the cold desk, and in your eyes, he finds a precious, beautiful glimmer –a beacon amidst the storm of his emotions. When you cup his face in your hands, he feels your warmth radiate through him, igniting every nerve. As you guide him toward your lips, he melts under your touch, his worries turning quiet at last.

In this precious moment, the distant hum of machines fades into silence, and the harsh glare of neon lights above becomes a blur; there is only you. It feels right, somehow. He forgets what he was so scared of in the first place when you press a kiss, then another (and another) on his lips. Forgets why he didn’t call you earlier, as the tip of your tongue teases the seam of his mouth. Forgets why he left your bed when his hands wrap snugly around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

He licks your tongue with reverence, savoring the divine taste of you, drinking in the soft sounds that escape your lips. A burning hunger ignites within your touch as you deepen the kiss, sucking on his tongue and playfully biting his lip, your hands caressing the nape of his neck while pulling him closer. Oh, she missed me.

But then you break the embrace, your eyes locking onto his, conveying emotions so profound that he longs to unravel and fully understand them. Your hands cup his face with urgency, your lips parted as if the words you want to say are trapped just beyond your reach. But they’re there, right there; in the light of your eyes, in the blush of your cheeks. Edward yearns to hear them, to capture them, and so he does just that, pressing his mouth hungrily against yours, wrapping his arms around you so tightly that he’s not entirely sure it doesn’t hurt. When did he become so desperate?

His large hands explore your body, slipping beneath your coat and under your shirt, a groan escaping him as he revels in the warmth of your skin against the chill of the night. Your fingertips dig into the back of his neck, and your other hand grips his hair as if you might drown without him –or is it the other way around, really? All he knows is that he craves more of you, desperate to touch you, to taste you, to consume you completely until you are his and he is yours.

He peels off your coat, the thick fabric falling heavily to the floor, while your hands fumble with the buttons of his shirt, exchanging short gasps and soft moans with each kiss. His body presses insistently against yours, and he can feel himself hardening as he rocks his hips gently against your stomach. A moment of doubt flickers within him as you break the kiss and push him away delicately. But the look in your eyes –this raw hunger and the way you bite your bottom lip– both surprises and reassures him.

Taking his hands, you turn him around, guiding him to lean against the desk beneath your eager gaze. Your movements are urgent, almost frantic, a stark contrast to the usual grace you carry, replaced now by a primal appetite. When you drop to your knees, Edward gasps, stuttering a weak protest.

“ Please… please, I need this, I need you … I will make you feel so good , Edward…” you whisper a promise, breathless, your gaze filled with an adoration that sends shivers through him as your hands caress his clothed thighs. Edward believes you –how could he not? His mind races, nearly short-circuiting, his heartbeat pounding so fiercely it feels as though it might stop altogether, and he hates himself for thinking how beautiful you look on your knees, as if you are worshiping him –if only you knew that he’s the one who desires you with a near-religious fervor, so much that he doesn’t recognize himself anymore. 

Of course, you will make him feel good; you’ve always cared for him, showing him the true meaning of pleasure, happiness, and fulfillment.

His hands tremble as they caress your face and run through your hair, cupping your cheeks gently. Meanwhile, your fingers deftly work at his belt, and he nearly sobs with anticipation as you open his pants with a burning passion, a light flush coloring your cheeks. When you reveal his underwear, he can’t suppress a soft groan, raising a hand to his forehead in embarrassment, trying to hide his arousal. A damp spot forms where his cock twitches to life, eager and demanding. Your labored breath brushes against his clothed bulge, sending shivers down his spine as your eyes lift to meet his. The emerald hue deepens with unmasked desire, his body betraying him, much more honest than his words.

A strangled whimper spills from his throat as you mouth at his angry length, your eyes fluttering shut while your tongue laps at the turgid flesh over the light fabric. He curses under his breath –the sensation unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, leaving his mind dizzy with a singular thought: more, more, more . Your hands grip his clothed thighs with a fierce intensity as you press open-mouthed kisses and sinful licks against his covered cock, a devotion that feels almost reverent, Edward’s soft moans and whimpers only seeming to fuel your hunger further.

When his hand cradles your face, his thumb brushing tender circles over your cheek and jaw, you meet his gaze with a feverish stare that makes him forget how to breathe. Tilting your head to the side, you catch his thumb in your mouth, sucking on it and swirling your tongue over the digit, still dusted with grime. You hum obscenely in intoxicating pleasure, closing your eyes to revel in the feeling of him. Edward barks a curse, louder than he intended, and your eyes snap open, a grin spreading across your face with his thumb still wrapped in your lips.

Tentatively, he rolls his thumb against your tongue, exploring the warm cavity of your mouth beneath your appreciative gaze, while his other hand caresses your hair possessively. His face burns with an embarrassing desire, a heated lust that you only intensify. When you bob your head up and down on his thumb in a lewd promise of what is to come, your eyes speak a language that words cannot articulate, and Edward stifles another moan.

You’re filthy , he mouths silently, and you giggle around his digit, a wicked glimmer in your eyes that seems to reply I know .

Your fingers finally find the waistband of his underwear, and Edward holds his breath, a lust-filled smile spreading across his face. As you pull the fabric down, revealing his heavy cock bouncing before you, the sound you make is downright sinful. A glimmer ignites in your eyes, a hunger that sends heat coursing through him, desire churning in his stomach. It always happens when you look at him as if he’s the most beautiful man in the world, as if you crave everything he is and represents.

Your warm hand wraps around his length, savoring its silky weight, eliciting a loud moan from him. His gaze is fixated on the way your hand glides up and down, each stroke pulling low gasps from his parched throat. You hum softly, the sound almost a purr, as you watch his cock throb in your grip, your thumbs brushing away the bead of precum that already leaks from his flushed tip. Your eyes darken with a mix of hunger and restraint, while Edward grips the desk behind him so tightly that his knuckles turn white, his hips involuntarily bucking, needy and demanding.

You smile, a sultry expression that conveys your own desire while acknowledging his –if the blooming blush on his cheeks isn’t confession enough. You don’t fuck his beautiful cock with your hand like you might want to –and you do desperately want to see him break under your spell, your fingers and wrists coated in his glistening release. But there’s something you crave even more.

A loud moan escapes his lips as you lick a long stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, savoring his musky, tangy flavor. Your pleasured hums are as teasing as your touch, letting the tip of your tongue glide over a prominent vein, exploring the warm, silky flesh. Edward pants like a mad dog under your torturously slow caress, overwhelmed by new sensations he had only dared to imagine in his most obscene dreams. But even those fantasies pale in comparison to your skillful tongue, giving kitten licks against his throbbing glans, the tip teasingly nudging his slit.

He whimpers –truly whimpers– under your exquisite torment, desperate and needy. He barely recognizes his own voice, dangerously close to sobbing as your tongue swirls slowly –agonizingly slowly– around the tip of his weeping cock, tasting him and familiarizing itself with his tantalizing curves. One of his trembling hands finds its way into your hair, losing itself in your locks, caressing your scalp with a gentle touch, simply following the rhythm of your exploring body. The sensation elicits a soft hum from your otherwise occupied mouth, warm breath enveloping his sensitive shaft as you travel down to its base, where you find his heavy balls.

Your gaze lifts to meet his, a perverse, lust-filled stare in your half-lidded eyes that makes him choke back a moan as you lavishly mouth at his sack, which hangs heavily like exquisite fruits. Your hand finds his length once more, pumping him generously with the aid of the precum slicking your fingers, while you savor him with a fiery appetite. You take one of his balls into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, encouraged by his undignified moans.

You never break eye contact, the obscene sight making him feel utterly exposed, a fire igniting deep within him. His mouth hangs open, panting breaths spilling from him as he gets lost in the pleasure you give, his mind turning to jelly. Driven by your own insatiable greed, you release his flushed fruits and trail the flat of your tongue up to his leaking tip before wrapping your lips around it.

Another strangled moan escapes his throat, and this time his hand instinctively fists your hair as his hips buck once, pushing the tip deeper into your mouth. You giggle at his eagerness, a wicked sound that nearly shatters his resolve, giving him a sultry look meant to convey your own arousal. Then, you suckle on his glans, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head as he becomes a mess of sobs and whimpers. Edward is losing his mind, losing his composure –this is not enough; your teasing touch leaves him desperate, and caught in a haze of near delirium, he stutters a plea.

Please , he almost whispers, a hint of shame blooming on his cheeks and chest. Never in a million years would he have envisioned himself begging for someone to utterly shatter and ruin him, completely consumed by his lustful desires. In this moment, the great Riddler has become a mere slave to your touch –willing, eager, and passionate. And you, on the other hand, are a merciful creature of pleasure; as you delicately work your jaw around his length, you take him deeper into your throat, the velvety warmth coaxing low moans from his lips.

With a slow rhythm, you bob your head up and down his shaft, each movement seeking to take more of him until you feel the resistance at the back of your throat, his tip nestled comfortably there. Each time, you glance up at him, ensuring he’s watching as you worship his cock on your knees, losing your composure while focusing on controlling your gag reflex, becoming a drooling mess over his length. His cock glistens, slick with a mix of precum and your saliva, the sight so obscene that he grunts, his hand still fiercely gripping your hair. Then, with a soft, wet sound, you reluctantly release him, your breathless voice breaking the silence.

Guide me . It’s a plea that borders on a command, enhanced by how tightly and desperately you clutch the fabric of his pants. How could he deny you anything, especially when you consistently aim to please him, always being so good to him? He bites his lip, stifling another undignified sound, as his trembling hand wraps around the base of his cock, pressing the tip against your eager, glistening lips.

As you wrap your mouth around his demanding cock once more, you feel his hand push against the back of your head –tentative and achingly gentle, as if afraid he might break you. Yet, the gesture elicits a contented sigh from you as you surrender to the soft rhythm he guides. Edward groans as he urges you further down his length, his thighs trembling with the restrained desire to brutally thrust into your throat, yet he revels instead in the heavenly warmth you offer.

The room fills with wet, lewd noises as you drool over his cock, working your jaw to take more of him with each thrust. Your tongue caresses the underside of his length, eliciting a rough, coarse moan from Edward, and his fist tangles in your hair, pulling you closer as he drives you back onto his cock, which you greedily take down your throat in one wet thrust. Each time your nose presses against his pubic bone, his eyes roll back in pleasure, completely engulfed in your velvety depths. A growing hunger compels him to buck his hips, fucking your throat with a gentle reverence, each wet noise coaxing more primal sounds from his lips.

You struggle to maintain eye contact as you succumb to your drunken state, drool slipping down your chin, overwhelmed by the taste of him. His precum leaks generously down your stomach as you swallow eagerly, indulging in the moment with unabashed greed. You revel in his pleasure, drinking in his aroused form and sinful moans each time his hips work your jaw open. One hand grips your hair firmly while the other curiously caresses your throat, searching for the telltale bulge of his cock sheathed within. When he finds it, he curses loudly, the last remnants of his restraint shattering. His thrusts become merciless and aggressive, filling the room with an almost pornographic symphony of loud groans, wet gagging, slurping sounds, and muffled moans.

Your face is ruined, he realizes with an unexpected pleasure and delight; tears stream down your flushed cheeks, your hair turned wild from his rough treatment, and glistening precum and saliva drip down your chin. He can’t believe how alluring you look in this moment, as he savagely thrusts into your throat, treating you like a ragdoll made solely for his pleasure. The thought sends a fierce throb through him, a gasp escaping his lips as he feels his peak nearing.

“ Beautiful ,” he groans through gritted teeth, and your eyes sparkle with adoration. “ Close ,” he mutters, just before his hips stutter. He feels you brace yourself, gripping his thighs as you relax your jaw, and then your name spills from his lips. With a series of staccato moans, he releases the first hot ropes of cum down your throat.

You struggle to take everything he gives you, swallowing and sucking around his cock as his grip on your hair tightens, becoming almost painful, while he spills the last of his essence. Your mouth aches, the seams of your lips feeling numb from his rough treatment, and your scalp burns under his firm hold. You swallow the final drops, savoring the musky scent of his softening cock and the salty taste of his cum on your tongue. 

As you pull away, a thread of saliva connects your swollen lips to his length, and you pant softly, your cheeks flushed from the effort. His hands cradle your face, thumbs brushing away your tears and wiping away the filthy slick, before he tenderly caresses your hair, trying (albeit somewhat unsuccessfully) to fix your appearance as you tuck him back into his pants. When he tilts your face to the side, the look he gives you is nothing short of adoring. Loving.

He wonders how you manage to unravel him so effortlessly, sowing chaos in his heart. Even now, kneeling before him, your face suffering from the abuse of his ardent desire and the intensity of your worship, your eyes sparkling with tenderness, he knows you could ask for anything, and he would gladly oblige. And this terrifies him, the sheer power you have over him without even trying.

Your face contorts in pain as you rise, yet you offer a smile so gentle that he can’t resist cupping your face in his hands and pulling you into a deep kiss. He savors the taste of your swollen lips and fatigued tongue –and, perhaps more shamefully than he cares to admit, himself . A fleeting thought crosses his mind, how he yearns to taste you , too.

He holds you by the waist and lifts you with disconcerting ease, his surprising strength making you yelp as your feet leave the ground. He spins you around before setting you down on the edge of the desk, his mouth never leaving yours. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him closer in a heated embrace that betrays both his burning desire and your own insatiable thirst.

In one swift motion that makes you gasp in surprise, Edward lifts you by the back of your knees and lays you down on your back. You fall unceremoniously, casting him a sinful glance before he drapes your legs over his shoulders and works his deft fingers at your pants. His gaze conveys a rare impatience, his breath slightly ragged as his fingers slip beneath the waistband of both your clothes and underwear, tugging them down to your knees and exposing your bare sex to the cold air.

His eyes find yours, and in the charged silence, you exchange a heated look, the words of your unvoiced desires lingering in the air. He leans down, your legs still resting over one shoulder, and crashes his lips against yours. You seize the back of his head, pulling him into a fervent kiss, your tongue exploring his mouth as your hips roll almost instinctively against him.

His hands grip the backs of your thighs, your knees drawn tightly to your chest as he breaks the kiss to finally gaze at your sex. He bites his lip, a rush of shame washing over him as he feels himself salivate at the sight of your vulnerable position, opened like a flower, revealing your flushed and needy hole. He stifles a groan as he takes in your state of arousal –drenched, glistening with desire that coats your folds and pools down your tight, puckered hole, and all he can do is choke back a curse.

One hand glides up and down the back of your thigh to your calf, and you shiver with anticipation, glancing up at him. Your hands grip the backs of your knees, keeping yourself open for him, your half-lidded eyes fixed on his as you bite your lip, an expression stirring a passion rarely felt within him.

“Please, Edward…” you plead, your voice so soft it’s barely a whisper, yet it drives him wild; the way you need him, the way you desire him –if only you could fathom all the things he longs to do to you, the profound effect you have on him.

“I’ll make— I’ll make you feel good,” he promises tentatively, your name falling from his lips like a caress. You whimper, a soft, lustful sound that stirs something deep within him as he drags a stool closer, positioning himself to lean down and take a better look at you.

At first, he only explores. His hands wrap around your thighs, thumbs tracing the contours of your glistening cunt. He mutters a curse as thick strings of your arousal cling to his fingers, the flesh slick and desperately yearning. With a tentative touch, he parts your swollen folds, the squelching noise making his face flush while you moan at his careful touch. He gasps, surprised by how little resistance your entrance offers as he gently spreads you open.

For a while, his fingers move with curious restraint, teasing your throbbing clit, gliding over your soaked folds. He circles your opening but does not dare caressing your tighter hole, despite its tempting allure from this angle – maybe one day . Meanwhile, you squirm and whimper beneath his touch, sobbing softly when his fingers dance away from particularly sensitive spots, until you find your voice again.

“God– stop teasing! ”

Edward chuckles at your faux-pouting expression, which reveals more arousal than frustration, before he puts you out of your misery by dipping his head between your legs. The flat of his tongue glides in a slow, deliberate stripe from your warm entrance to your begging clitoris, and a loud moan escapes your throat at the soft yet overwhelming sensation. Edward groans at your taste –foreign, intoxicating; your essence is coppery and earthy, laced with something uniquely you and beautifully exquisite, prompting him to return for more. His hands splay across the back of your thighs as his tongue laps up your juices, taking his time as he discovers this new kind of pleasure.

Still uncertain of what to do, he decides to experiment, closely monitoring your reactions: you whimper when he uses the tip of his tongue to spread your folds, moan as he traces wet circles around your clit, and gasp when he nudges his appendage inside your hole. He experiments with pace, pressure and depth, using his newfound knowledge of how your body responds to coax your arousal further, savoring the intimate taste of you.

In this moment, your cunt resembles a ripe fruit, flushed and swollen, begging to be touched and tasted. The sight assaults his senses; your tangy scent stirs something primal within him as your delicate flavors invade his mouth. After a few languid licks over your pearl, he wraps his lips around it, suckling gently on the sensitive nub. Your body responds immediately, a cry of pleasure escaping your lips as you roll your hips, urging him to give you more while you grind against his face.

His eyes shine with adoration as his tongue swirls around your needy pearl, his knuckles grazing your parted folds. A cry tears from your throat before he releases your clit, shifting his attention to your small, swollen lips instead, taking them inside his mouth and suckling gently. You sob and wail, a melody that drives him nearly to madness.

Edward revels in the new sensations, how your soft folds feel against his tongue, the way you sing so sweetly when he suckles gently or pulls at them before releasing and lapping at your sensitive pearl again. He’s entranced by the way your legs tremble against your chest, your grip on them faltering as he buries his tongue deep inside you, his nose rubbing against your clit. One of his arms is pressed firmly over your folded thighs, keeping you open for him, while his chin glistens with your arousal. Your hands tangle in his hair as you roll your hips gently, though needily, against his face. He never imagined how much he would love being guided and used this way, feeling you chase your own release, fingers gripping his hair as he works his jaw to suck and lick with fervor. A sharper tug on his hair elicits a pleasured moan from his throat, muffled by your folds, and you respond with a loud sob.

He recognizes the tremor in your legs and feels your core fluttering against his tongue; your release is near, and a renewed excitement fills him as he anticipates savoring every part of you. Your cries grow more throaty, ragged, and desperate as you call his name almost reverently –a warning .

“ I know – I’m here,” Edward coos, embodying a confidence he never knew he possessed as he wraps his lips around your clit once more, sucking hard enough to make you scream and tense beneath him. More, more , your words echo in the otherwise empty room, and soon his fingers join the dance, two digits breaching your tender hole and almost immediately finding your favorite place.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to unravel, arching your back as far as your constrained body allows, a loud cry spilling earnestly from your throat. Edward does not relent, savoring your throbbing clit while his fingers work you through your orgasm, curling inside the silken clutch of your quivering hole, the air thick with obscene, wet sounds. As your mewls build to a loving crescendo, he detaches his mouth from your sensitive nub and licks it gently with the flat of his tongue, trailing down to your entrance and eagerly swallowing your release.

He groans as your fingers grip him tightly, pressing his face against your sensitive core, and he finds himself teetering on the edge of delirium from your taste and scent. His chin glistens, slick with your essence, until your moans dissolve into sobs and your body trembles with exhaustion.

After pressing one last tender kiss to your swollen, spent cunt, Edward pulls away, using the back of his hand to wipe your remnants from his face. He gazes at you, breathless and utterly undone, his heart swelling with tenderness. Your face is flushed crimson, a portrait of exhaustion and satisfaction, your half-lidded eyes locking onto his. And then, you smile . Oh , that smile…

He helps you dress, carefully lifting you back onto the desk, his fingers caressing your sore thighs before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. A comfortable silence envelops you both as you wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest like a contented cat –he can almost hear you purr, he thinks playfully. His fingers weave through your hair, lost in the warmth of your embrace. You hold him close –so close that he feels as if he might melt away right then and there. You linger like this for a while, simply savoring the tenderness between you, and he thinks to himself how deeply he’s missed this, missed you.

You’re the first to break the silence, a playful laugh escaping your lips as you glance at the boxes on his desk. “So… are you still hungry?” you tease, a sparkle in your eyes.

Edward barks a laugh in response.

Yeah , he’s starving.

[larebiscornue]

(EDIT: This is getting visibility so reminder to do your daily clicks in arab.org (not only for the Palestine tab) and check this list of vetted palestinian gofundmes)

So, per typical Friday, we had a new page of La Grande Vague, but (at least when I checked), for the first time, the comments were... Pretty negative! And it's no wonder, we only have 2 more chapters episodes til this wraps up and, if you have read it, you know exactly how lackluster of an ending for the Wakfu story if this were the ending. (Sure, we'd have the upcoming Flo and Mad comic to cover one part of the cast, but LGV IS advertised as the great finale for the main story.) I really get the disappointed feeling, especially because whether you get the cheap or expensive pack, reading LGV at full is NOT free. And I'm not even touching, of course, the issue with season 5 being a webcomic.

But, if what other commenters said is true, Tot said LGV is actually going to have a hundred episodes or so! (I haven't been able to find the source. Maybe twitter? Feel free to send it to me. I'd be doubtful on authenticity but with many people saying it.. It sounds too specific)

However, I do still think some degree of criticism to how LGV is handled is still warranted for sure.

Like. The way it was marketed... Were we told there would be more than 10 chapters? Correct me if we have, but there being a bit of an ammount of fans in the comments not knowing tells me it was not well expressed.

The webtoon/webcomic(?) issue would be the pacing, I do agree.. Webcomics can have quite an iffy pacing to get used to as they do obviously need to be spread in time, often in short bits like lgv (though, at least it isn't as this one comic I read as a teen that was only a page per week. We were fine with it because it was a one person team but geez, it made action full high plot point chapters/episodes/(gah I find the names confusing..) tough to read with unchanging hype... (I'm not saying any webcomic author or even company should be pressured to upload even more than a page per *insert period of time * but we cannot deny the medium has its limitations. Idk if this also happens with comic books, since while they come in issues, they're longer book releases) For full transparency I'll say I'm not that much of a webcomic bluff at all aside from wakfu and the other one, so take it with a pinch of salt.

I think the problem is, we as a wakfu audience are used to get meaty 20 minute episodes, and while each lgv episode has content, because of the medium and the way it's structured, it definitely lasts less. Does this have any solution? I dunno. Webcomic was the only compromise to s5 not being able to be animated. And not to mention how passionate we are about this series.

On one hand, I feel some of the uproar should be saved til we see how does this progress and how Ankama handles the situation, cause if lgv is really gonna be 100 episodes long, we have to see how stuff plays out. On the other, I feel we as fans have the right to freely critique, (like the "ammount of chapters wasn't well advertised") healthily!

This isn't intended to be a proper essay, sorry if some of the wording doesn't make sense, and as you can see I have NOT touched on the plot itself cause I don't feel its that relevant for this post. Feel free to share your opinions with me!

EDIT: @/julith-jurgen and @/cocogum shared me a link to Tot and Cathiane (LGV's artist)'s statement in the replies, the 100 episodes/chapters (Again I still struggle with proper webcomic terminology lol) thing is real:

https://x.com/Totankama/status/1781321831263424875 https://x.com/Cathianedraws/status/1781379849606529479)

[sciatu]

Duomo di Taormina

Lascia stare quello che dicono i libri. Non ti serve leggere quando questo piccolo duomo è stato costruito per capire cosa è. Di sicuro, migliaia di anni fa, c’era già li un luogo dedicato a un Dio perché il Duomo è messo di fronte all’infinito, dove il cielo finisce, dove inizia il mare e dal mare nasce, ripido e fiero, il promontorio su cui il Duomo si trova. È un posto dove le anime sentono l’eternità e vorrebbero spiccare il volo per comprendere l’esistenza. Proprio qui, in questo luogo che ci pone di fronte alle domande di cui cerchiamo risposte si trova questa chiesa, proprio qui, di fronte al paradiso, sotto gli occhi di Dio. Non guardare i quadri esposti sopra i suoi altari come se fossero opere d’arte, anche se antichi e preziosi. Sono in realtà le orecchie di Dio, ascoltano le preghiere di chi non può non chiedere, ascoltano i dolori, le speranze, quei peccati nati dal bisogno di cose o da quel bisogno di amore che ci infetta con un male chiamato solitudine. Anche i preziosi marmi degli altari, non sono grandi per mostrare la magnificenza delle pietre siciliane. Sono solo inginocchiatoi, fatti per chi cercava pietà. Ora non vedi le vecchie vestite di nero, pregare i loro santi, perché ormai basta trovare conforto in sentimenti minori, in illusioni scientifiche o sciamaniche, dentro la continua distrazione di Reel e post, nel consumo continuo di cose ed emozioni. Ma questo era ed è il Duomo, la casa delle anime a cui manca la pace. Delle anime che non sanno trovare nessuna pace, spaventate, confuse dalle guerre piccole o grandi, vicine o lontane, dalle stragi straordinarie o dai quotidiani genocidi, anime che cercano motivi, spiegazioni, speranze o certezze per non sentirsi inutili, calpestaste, ignorate, dimenticate. Non guardare il Duomo come se fosse una pietra più o meno antica, un dipinto di secoli fa, una scultura che gli antichi romani hanno lasciato. Consideralo un giardino in cui le anime possano provare respiro, percepire il loro tempo, concepire e cercare l’armonia che hanno perduto, tornare pure, in questo piccolo altare posto di fronte al Paradiso, sotto gli occhi di Dio.

Forget what the books say. You don't need to read when this little dome was built to understand what it is. Certainly, thousands of years ago, there was already a place dedicated to a God because the Cathedral faces infinity, where the sky ends, where the sea begins and from the sea rises, steep and proud, the promontory on which the Cathedral is located. It is a place where souls feel eternity and would like to take flight to understand existence. Right here, in this place that confronts us with the questions to which we seek answers, lies this church, right here, in front of paradise, under the eyes of God. Do not look at the paintings displayed above its altars as if they were works of art, even if ancient and precious. They are in reality the ears of God, they listen to the prayers of those who cannot help but ask, they listen to the pains, the hopes, those sins born from the need of things or from that need of love that infects us with an evil called loneliness. Even the precious marbles of the altars are not so large to show the magnificence of the Sicilian stones. They are just kneelers, made for those seeking mercy. Now you don't see the old women dressed in black, praying to their saints, because now it's enough to find comfort in minor feelings, in scientific or shamanic illusions, in the continuous distraction of Reels and posts, in the continuous consumption of things and emotions. But this was and is the Cathedral, the home of souls who lack peace. Souls who cannot find any rest, frightened, confused by wars small or large, near or far, by extraordinary massacres or daily genocides, souls who seek reasons, explanations, hopes or certainties so they will not feel useless, trampled upon, ignored, forgotten . Don't look at the Duomo as if it were a more or less ancient stone, a painting from centuries ago, a sculpture that the ancient Romans left behind. Consider it a garden in which souls can experience breathing, perceive their time, conceive and seek the harmony they have lost, even return to this small altar placed in front of Paradise, under the eyes of God.

[three-heart-trio]

Sixteenth Day Event Prompt:

Quackity and Schlatt have a bowling night

top tier bowling (1077 words) read on ao3

This is such a bad idea. Such a fucking bad idea.

Quackity is pacing around Schlatt's grave, mind running a million miles per hour, filled with all the horrible, terrible things that could happen if he goes through with this shit.

What-fucking-ever. It's not like this is the first bad idea he's executed, and it sure as hell won't be the last.

Which brings him to his next problem: How does one summon a ghost?

Maybe he should've asked somebody, but he would rather take his final life than seek assistance. Call him dramatic, but relying on anyone hasn't gotten him anywhere.

So Quackity, not thinking anything through, takes a deep breath, and shouts, "Schlatt- or Glatt, whatever the hell you go by now, Quackity from Las Nevadas wants to have a fucking talk. I wanna fucking talk."

Quackity doesn't know what he was expecting. He probably thought Schlatt was going to descend down from the heavens, if that's even a thing; or maybe up from hell (where he deserves to fucking rot). Maybe Schlatt was going to just fade in in front of him. 

He sure as hell wasn't expecting the guy to just wake up behind the grave, eyes blinking awake, a hand wrapped tightly around an empty glass bottle.

Quackity doesn't even need to think to know what was in that bottle.

Schlatt stretches, bones cracking from neglect of god knows how many weeks, before registering Quackity's presence. 

"Ay! Quackity, what'dya wake me up for? I was having a damn good nap, asshole!" He yawns, extending his limbs, "Better be a damn good reason."

Quackity plasters on a smile, clearly pleased to be annoying him, "Wanna go bowling?"

Schlatt blinks. "Excuse me?'

"You. Me. Las Nevadas. Just recently opened up a bowling alley," Quackity says, like that explains anything, "Wanna go bowling?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? This is what you fucking woke me up for-"

Quackity pinches his nose and sighs, putting all his cards on the table, "There'll be drinks."

Schlatt looks unfazed, before his mouth spreads into a wide, toothy grin, "Well, why didn't you say so sooner? Lead the way, my friend!" He throws his free hand around Quackity's shoulders, which gets shrugged off immediately.

===

Las Nevadas is a lot bigger than Schlatt remembers.

There's a lot more lights as well, he notes as he looks around the bustling city. The night is young, so the billboards and signs aren't in full effect yet. He wonders what it'll be like in the dark.

He really needs to wake up more.

Quackity leads them into a stubby building around the corner, appropriately named the "Las Nevadas Bowling Alley", down a few flights of stairs. It opens up to a massive space, lined with bowling lanes, lavish sofas, and those flashy rip-off stores that provide the bowling shoes and overpriced food.

Schlatt is guided to sit on a sofa, as Quackity goes to, presumably, get the alcohol. With a place like this, Schlatt can't imagine the quality of liquor he'll be receiving.

With two bottles in one hand, laced inbetween his fingers, and a stack of cups in the other, Quackity returns and places all the items on the glass cocktail table in the center of the seats, before going to configure the game on the screen.

"Usual settings?" Without turning from the screen, Quackity asks, before snickering, "You don't need the bumpers, do you? 

Schlatt scoffs, "No! I don't need the fucking handrails." 

Quackity rolls his eyes and laugh, clearly unconvinced, but hey, it'll be entertaining either way.

He clicks a few more buttons that Schlatt just, does not understandm and will not question, and the pins are lined up, the bowling balls rolling and thunking onto the rack neatly, all the reds and blacks and golds of Las Nevadas.

The host waves a hand for Schlatt, signalling for him to go first, "Guests first."

"Too pussy to go first, huh?" Schlatt sneers as he slots his fingers into the bowling ball, "Yeah, watch the master at work."

Schlatt rolls his ball straight into the gutter, much to the pleasure of Quackity and his shit-eating smile.

He glares at the man on the couch, before going a second time. It hits one pin.

Quackity lets out a guffaw. "The 'master at work', huh? Fucking hell, that was sad!" He says, as he pours out the drinks, nearly spilling it from laughing.

Schlatt sits on the sofa angrily, grabbing a cup, "Yeah? The only sad thing is you being on your final fucking life, asshole," He takes a sip of the alcohol, eyes sparkling as he tastes the liquid, "Oh shit, this is good! You are loaded ," tongue rolling at the 'L'.

"First of all, not taking comments about my life from a goddamn ghost; Secondly, yeah this shit is good! Gotta live up to the name, y'know," Quackity stands up and grabs a bowling ball, "Now, watch this ."

Quackity throws the ball into the air, landing with a bang on the lane before rolling into the gutter.

Clearly, neither of them know how bowling works.

Quackity laughs nervously, "Second time- Second time's the charm! That was a warmup-" He rolls the ball softly, going about a meter before slowly rolling into the gutter.

"You have weak ass arms, my fucking god!" Schlatt gets up to survey the area where the bowling ball landed the first time, "This is a strong floor, by the way, how did it even survive that throw?"

That comment is met with a glare. The screen above flashes "Turn 2" in bright letters.

Schlatt take a ball, holding up to eye level (That's what the professionals do, right?) before sliding the ball towards the pins. It hits 4 of them.

"Yeah! Look at that, bitch!" Schlatt exclaims, as Quackity rolls his eyes and groans in annoyance.

"It's fucking- beginner's luck, asshat." Quackity goes, as Schlatt scores a 1 on his second turn. 

Schlatt cackles, "Beat that ! Bet your weak-ass arms can't." 

Quackity laughs, full-chest and holding nothing back. "I am going to bash your head in with this god damn bowling ball." He rolls, scoring a total of 6. Quackity's lips stretches into wide beam of pride as Schlatt splutters in bewilderment, mouth agape.

"Fucking did beat you."

Quackity's chest feels a lot lighter as he laughs at both of their terrible behavior, the night passing like wind. Maybe it was worth going along with stupid ideas.

[marcogiovenale]

oggi, 17 maggio, a roma: concerto e reading per l'infanzia palestinese

cliccare per ingrandire Venerdì 17 maggio, ore 18:00, Concerto per l’infanzia e la Pace in Palestina presso l’aula Magna dell’Università Valdese di Roma. A cura di Yousef Salman. Letture di Ilaria GiovinazzoFatena Al Ghorra Dunia al-Amal IsmailYousef Elqedra Alaa al QatrawiRefaat AlareerMosab Abu Toha Muhammad Tariq al KhadraTraduzioni a cura di Simone Sibilio e Sana Darghmouni Prenotazioni…

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

AAAAAAA ur reading house of leaves??? im buying that next week thats so cool! do u have any book recs? or recs in general shows movies etc

I AM!! I'm several chapters in and super enjoying it, although reading it alone in a tiny hotel room in the middle of nowhere was a Distinct Mistake.

As for recs! I'm going to specifically go for stuff that isn't super mainstream, in the hopes that I'll recommend you something you have never heard of before. Here's some stuff for you!

Podcasts

Dreamboy - one-season podcast from Night Vale Presents, definitely one of their less-known ones. Explicit in places, what I would describe as AO3 M-rated sex scenes. A worn-out musician ends up embroiled in inexplicable events in a small town, and also there's a murderous zebra and fossils that want to fuck. It's a musical cinematic podcast masterpiece, I'll always be sad there's only one season.

Apocrypals - nonfiction. Two non-believers read through the Bible and try not to be jerks about it. If you're interested in theology and apocryphal texts but have no idea where to start, this is such a good place. The hosts are delightful, and have a really nice way of taking you through all the various layers of Biblical scholarly nonsense. Considerable backlog of episodes, but worth listening through from the beginning. Weirdly, there's continuity.

Til Death Do Us Blart - five poor fools watch Paul Blart Mall Cop 2 every Thanksgiving from now until the end of eternity, and report back yearly on their mental state. You may think to yourself 'wow, that doesn't sound like a good time'. It isn't, to the hosts. To anyone listening along, it's fucking hilarious. Nine episodes so far, and it's a single episode per year, so plenty of time to catch up.

Web Series

The Monument Mythos - Several seasons. surreal analogue horror alternate history of America told through a series of videos of varying format. Brilliantly absurd, fucked up, and horrifying by turns (sometimes all at once).

No Evil - ongoing animated series, made mostly by a single person. Please don't immediately wave it off because of the colorful anthropormorphic animals. The mythology is amazing, the animation is sublime, and the music is haunting. The pacing is a bit strange at first, and you may be confused at the way the plot moves, but you have to understand that it's all part of its charm. I think about No Evil way too much.

Dances Moving - you may know Brian David Gilbert from his work at Polygon, and his more recent absurdist Youtube ventures. This is from way before that! It's a fun and gradually heartwrenching musical exploration of a local dance group and what it means to move away from home. Seven short episodes.

ENA - this one is a bit more mainstream, so you may know it already. Who knows what's going on in the world of ENA? Definitely not me. Absurdism at its finest. Bizarre architecture, strange characters, if it's a metaphor I don't know what it's about, but the vibes are immaculate. Three actual episodes of varying length, apparently there's a video game set to come out soon-ish?

An Unauthorized Fan Treatise - serialized story. If you're a fan of internet drama a la Msscribe, you're going to adore it. It's a fiction story about a fictional fandom, and one massively messed up person who decides that two of the lead actors in her favorite show are secretly dating and sets out to prove it with a cited multi-chapter essay. And then it gets wild.

Comics

The Property of Hate - a wonderfully dynamic and colorful webcomic about a young girl getting chosen to become a make-believe world's Hero. Puns and wordplay galore. Absolutely delightful characters and worldbuilding. Ongoing.

Eat the Rich - a young woman goes to meet her boyfriend's extremely rich family, and learns their horrifying secret. Warning: cannibalism. 5 issues, complete.

Beanworld - impossible to describe, but I'll try. An absurdist semiabstract musing on the nature of life and cycles and community, set in a world where the rules are weirdly two-dimensional and you as a reader get weirdly invested in the routines and cycles that the inhabitants follow. And all of the main characters are cute lil bean guys. If you read anything on this list, do this one. (Linked is the only online version I could find, and it's not up-to-date. I own all the omnibuses in print. If you liked what you read here, I recommend tracking them down too.)

Short Stories (in no particular order, and certainly not all my favorites - just the ones I had bookmarked and on hand)

Bride, Knife, Flaming Horse - a young Indian woman looks for marriage in the fantastical, and finds several suitors

Fish (in 13 sections) - an obsessive unpacks a bewildering insult. Just, really fun.

Fandom For Robots - a robot discovers anime, and definitely doesn't have big feelings about it

Informed Consent Logs From The Soul-Swap Clinic - two people decide to swap bodies, for somewhat murky reasons.

The Magician's Apprentice - a young girl learns magic from her mentor. This one's about grooming. But not like that. But also a lot like that. But also it's so much more fucked up than that. (This one is a MEGA favorite, it's by Tamsyn Muir. Who you may recognize as the author of the Locked Tomb series - I'd rec that too here, if it wasn't definitely too mainstream for what I'm going for. Read this. And also read the Locked Tomb.)

The Tale of the Foolish King Who Banished Music - it's a snippet of a longer Doctor Who audio drama, but stands so nicely on its own. Unnerving little fairy tale.

The Spider - 1908 horror story about a man trying to figure out why so many men have spontaneously committed suicide in a specific hotel room. It's basically a TMA statement, in more ways than one.

Video Games

What Did Veronica Dream Of? - strange little rpgmaker puzzle game. Obtuse and weird, and I adore it. I wish I could explain why.

Secret Little Haven - point-and-click about being a trans girl on the internet in 1999. Completely nails the tone it's going for. Period-typical homo- and transphobia.

Linelith - a short (1-hour) puzzle game with no plot and no characters, and yet it contains one of the greatest plot-twists of all time. I'm begging you to play it immediately.

Lingo - puzzle game about linguistics, words, non-Euclidean goemetry, and figuring out an endless series of rules in a constantly expanding world. RIDICULOUSLY clever and good, and I've been playing it almost continuously for the last few months. It's got so much content for such a reasonable price, and the community-made maps add even more content (and are also excellent). If English isn't your first language, you may struggle, but otherwise - grab a bunch of friends and stream it. It's better with friends helping you out, I can guarantee it.

For A Change - a 1999 interactive fiction game about raising the sun in a world where words do not mean what you think they mean. If you're familiar with old text-based games, go ahead and play it - otherwise, you may want to read this transcript of a group of people playing it together instead.

Other Things

Carmilla - the classic 1800s lesbian vampire novella. I read it very recently, and it's extremely good. Absolutely delivers on the lesbian vampire premise in full gory detail, although do be aware that it was written in the context of homophobic fear.

Alberio - very fun light musical about two siren brothers reconnecting under less-than-ideal circumstances.

Mosquitoes - stage play about life and families and physics (theoretical and practical both). Very heavy topics, pulls no punches. The Boson's final monologue always wrecks me.

Ghost Quartet - musical/song cycle/experience about love, death, alcohol, and (of course) ghosts. Lots of cyclical stories and time travel weirdness. All of the songs are incredible.

Yankee and the Foreigners - music group that performs delightful upbeat covers of songs in animal onesies. Their Bare Necessities cover is a favorite of mine.

I'm sure there's lots more things I could rec (not a lot of books or movies here, huh? sorry about that. I immediately forgot everything I've ever read and watched) but these were the things that came to mind when I sat down and wrote this list, so hopefully there's something new and good for you in here!

[itastrologia]

astro notes | two

��🥦 Taureans have a squarely shaped face

—🥦 planets in Taurus, Cancer, Virgo, Libra and/or Capricorn may stick to proper table manners more than everyone.

—🥦 Moon in Leo loves finger food and dislikes food unsavory to her palate.

—🥦 Uranus as 3rd house ruler is easily mentally stimulated by fast paced things and risks. Impatient.

—🥦Venus trine Neptune may have a thing for happy endings and fairy tales. Plus, makeup could be a self worth booster (Venus is self worth; Neptune is makeup)

—🥦Saturn square Sun may internally dislike abiding too much by the rules or wants to strong-arm everyone into abiding by self-established rules. Imposing dominance through a stern behavior is self-gratifying

—🥦Venus in the 4th house or in Pisces loves the beach; wishing to be a housewife could occur in the 4th house, the most.

—🥦Saturn at 21 degrees starts to have a rather difficult breakout in adulthood by the age of 21. Saturn is maturity and is related to adulthood.

🪷

-🥦Quelli del Toro hanno un viso di forma quadrata.

-🥦I pianeti in Toro, Cancro, Vergine, Bilancia e/o Capricorno possono attenersi alle buone maniere a tavola più di tutti.

-🥦La Luna in Leone ama mangiare cibi con le mani, ma disprezza i cibi blandi per il suo palato.

-🥦Urano, come governatore della 3a casa (perché l'acquario è nella 3a casa), è facilmente stimolato dalla rapidità e dai rischi. É impaziente.

-🥦Venere in trigono a Nettuno ama il lieto fine e le favole. In più, il trucco potrebbe per migliorare la propria autostima (Venere è l'autostima; Nettuno è il trucco).

-🥦Saturno quadrato a Sole può in fondo non gradire troppo il rispetto delle regole o vuole costringere tutti a rispettare le regole stabilite da sé. Imporre il dominio attraverso un comportamento severo gli fa bene al suo ego.

-🥦Venere in 4ª casa o in Pesci ama la spiaggia; il desiderio di essere una casalinga potrebbe verificarsi soprattutto in 4a casa.

-🥦Saturno a 21 gradi inizia ad avere una difficile età adulta entro i 21 anni. Saturno rappresenta la maturità ed è legato all'età adulta.

Thank you for reading!! 😁

[steveinscarlet]

So I did more readable pics of that Joe in the desert article in case people wanted to read it as well as drool over the pictures!

Full text below the cut

Magic roundabout

For their latest tour of the US, Def Leppard have devised a revolutionary way of presenting their brand of arena rock with a stage set in the centre of the venues and surrounded by the audience. All of which makes for a more intimate and more exciting spectacle, according to Paul Elliott. Desert shots Russell Young

Panic in the round. Diana Ross and Kenny Rogers have lived through it, but Def Leppard claim to be the first rock group ever to play America's ice rinks and basketball stadia on a stage set in the centre and fully surrounded by the audiences.

In one stroke, they're making arena rock a more intimate and more exciting spectacle.

The band are closer to all of the crowd, providing more action as they randomly run to each of the stage's four sides. The lighting is imaginative and the sound, from the amps strung up high above them, penetrates the farthest corners.

On this tour, there's never a bad seat in the house, and the higher you can get, the more dramatic the view. Originally dubbed Mensch's Folly (co-manager Peter Mensch came up with the idea for playing in the round after a new, regular stage set had just been finished to the tune of 100,000 dollars!), this production is proving a great success, leaving the fans breathless... and baffled.

How the hell do Leppard get to and from the stage when there's no visible means of escape through the massed paying public?

The Harry Houdinis of rock are giving nothing away.

Stretched out in just swimming trunks and shades, poolside at a star-infested LA hotel (U2, Chrissie Hynde, Jamie Lee Curtis and a few English footballers, past and present, were all hanging out), singer Joe Elliot remains tight-lipped.

"It's not a case of paranoia that we don't want to be spotted. It's the element of surprise; we like to think that everybody goes home wondering how the f*** we got in there in the first place."

"Maybe we slid down to the stage on batpoles. Or maybe we were under the stage from soundcheck onwards."

Maybe.

Out of the dozen American dates that Leppard took in before they reached the West Coast at San Diego, only two have be been played with the stage at one end.

Phoenix, Arizona, was one; a fiery gig, but one which proved them right in thinking that, for the thousands of Joe Sixpacks and rockin' chicks, looking the band right in the eye one or two at a time is a whole lot more fun than squinting, as per usual, at five comparatively tiny and static blurs.

As they continually got in each other's way at Phoenix it also became

obvious that they'd half forgotten how to play to an audience straight ahead.

Playing is the round isn't easy or always possible (in Britain, only Birmingham's NEC could accommodate the 40 tons of gear that has to be hung from the roof). Yet it's different and fresh for band and fans alike.

Joe relishes the challenge, albeit an exhausting one.

"Well, I'd be a liar if I said it wasn't exhausting. The first night we did in the round was like the first gig of the 'Hysteria' tour, in Dublin I think. We did eight days' rehearsal on that stage before the first show, but we still ended up trying to fill the stage too much, and by the end of 'Hit and Run' everybody was looking for a bucket to throw up into."

"After three gigs though, we were really cookin'. It is exhausting, but now we've reached a certain fitness peak we can deal with it, and the set's paced well enough to take care of itself. I enjoy getting kinda hot and sweaty anyway."

Surely this tour will take a lot out of you?

"No," he insists, voice dry and croaky with the heat and dust of the previous night's show. "In fact, I think this tour's gonna be better than anything before, cos we're a lot more prepared for it."

Seven weeks ago Joe gave up booze, he doesn't smoke, and parties as little as possible.

"Now I can go onstage and perform better. The most important thing to me is those two hours a night, and if the other 22 have to be really boring then so be it."

Guitarist Phil Collen was the first to quit drinking a good eight months ago, although that afternoon his voice was rougher than Joe's from the strain of doing plenty of backing vocals.

"It's demanding on Phil and me and, basically, when you can't sing you sound shitty, and when you sound shitty you sound like a shit band. When you don't drink there's no point in going to clubs."

"I'd rather have a quick grapefruit juice back at the hotel bar and go watch Platoon or something. I mean. I'd rather go to a club till five in the morning cos I'm wide awake with all the adrenalin, but I know I can't sing the night after if I do, and for the sake of entertaining myself, I'm not gonna piss off 15,000 kids the following night by singing like Lemmy or somebody."

"No disrespect to the guy," he smiles, "but he wouldn't suit the songs that we do."

Panic in the round?

"Oh it's a constant panic. Under the stage, if one wire wasn't plugged in it'd never get found, and it only takes one person getting their gig wrong to screw up the whole show. So far it hasn't happened."

If panic does rule this tour, it's being played down remarkably well. Over three shows in Tucson, Phoenix, and San Diego (the latter their best gig of the tour so far), the only apparent concerns were for Joe's and Phil's voices.

The only problem drummer Rick Allen has found was walking through the crowd one night, heavily disguised, while unwittingly carrying a piece of paper stuck to his back by guitarist Steve Clark which read 'I am Rick Allen'. And even then the crowd didn't fall for it! Who's he trying to kid?

Clearly, it's the ambitious staging that's the novelty of Def Leppard's US tour, not Rick. He's now so adept with one hand and two feet that he's itching to get a new kit that can keep up with his own rate of progress.

"The stage show is impressive and it is a distraction," nods Joe, "but to be quite honest, I used to think we'd get a lot of people who'd be just peeping through the cymbals to have a look and see where it used to be, y'know, but it hasn't happened, in England or here."

"Basically, it all happened so long ago that people don't care. Being on tour two and a half years after the accident, people just seem to accept it. It's like when Archie Gemmill shaved his beard off (for the uninitiated, Archie Gemmill is a gnome-like ex-Scottish international footballer). He didn't look like Archie Gemmill any more, but after two and a half years, who cares?"

Who indeed?

"There's nothing short of playing upside down next time to top this. The novelty probably is taking a bit of weight off Rick, but at the same time, when it features him, it features him more. He's not hidden behind the rest of us."

"We can either stay in the round in America for the rest of our careers, or we can go back to playing at one end, which'd be a bit of a downer. I'd like to think that we'd play in the round on the next tour too, even if we couldn't play outside cos you'd have to get four helicopters to fly everything from each corner."

Is touring the US like coming home?

"Not really. It's more like going away," he laughs. "In the sense of coming home to the safety of knowing that you can play to a lot of people, then yeah, I suppose it is. Yet in a way it was like starting from scratch."

"We'd kept the cult of 25-year-old males, but we'd lost the little girls. Now they're coming back cos the record's really taking off, and that's why the halls are filling up."

Sure enough, there were plenty of boob tubes in among the beerguts and baseball caps at each show.

"We've not done bad business anywhere other than a few poxy Iittle towns. But I don't get off on business figures. Your bank balance is your own business and it should be that way with a band.

"I'm too sensible a person to let money f*** me up - it's not that important to me. If I had 200 dollars in my pocket and I was hungry I'd sooner just go and have a Big Mac."

And while he does cut a good rock star figure, Joe's Yorkshire brogue still gives him away. Through all their success, Def Leppard haven't gotten precious or affected or untouchable.

There is no Leppard myth. Their bus still stops on an overnight dash fro San Diego up to Los Angeles so that half of them can stumble out into the dark to water the cacti. But even then a pursuing carload of fans pulled up for a gawp.

Def Leppard's current sales figures are impressive. Already a surprise number one LP in the UK (nobody could've been more shocked than the band themselves), 'Hysteria' is edging towards the three million mark in the States at the rate of at Ieast 100,000 per week.

That's way short of 'Pyromania''s seven million plus, but it's still competitive with the three million a piece for 'Bad' and 'The Joshua Tree' - and it's not finished yet.

Peter Mensch reckons that, nowadays, hit singles are more vital than ever to a rock band's survival. A roll of three has broken the previously difficult British market, and in America too they're beginning to come after the initial failure of 'Women'.

'Animal' is picking up the momentum to carry it into the Top 20, and Joe feels that there'll be more to follow.

"I seriously believe that we've got up to five hit singles on this record, even 'Rocket', although it's such an unusual song and such a change from something like 'Sugar', which was an obvious stab at the commercial market."

That's a frank admission.

"Well, it is obvious. The chorus is three chords. I wrote it like that cos it's all I can play. I always have to think commercially. I can't write 'Gods Of War'.

"When I pick up a guitar, I tend to play 'Wild Thing' a lot better than 'All Along The Watchtower'. 'Sugar' was an obvious attempt at a single, as was 'Animal' to a certain extent, although that was a little less obvious, yet it was a bigger hit in Britain by a long way, so there's no set rule."

"But Peter's totally right. You can't survive without hit singles these days cos AOR radio in America isn't responsible for breaking bands in America any more. Bon Jovi's 'Raise Your Hands' was a great live song, but it was hardly played on the radio, so it had nothing to do with 'Slippery When Wet' selling eight million copies. That was through the singles."

"There was a stage where people were snobby about having hits, that it wasn't credible. That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! I like the idea of being on Top Of The Pops and on a poster on the back of Jackie. I find it funny."

"About 98 per cent of our stuff is tongue in cheek anyway. When you've got a rhinoceros on one of your videos you can't take yourselves that seriously!"

One consistent criticism of Def Leppard is their live performance; in terms of pure sound quality, the five just can't match the lavish sweep of their last two albums, which is hardly surprising.

Realistically, though, this criticism only applies to the song 'Hysteria' (the band's latest single) at present. While every other number, whatever tempo, sounds full and vibrant, 'Hysteria' still seems a touch clumsy and pushed.

As a particularly cocky squirrel cranes its neck and begins lapping up the pool water, Joe sits up on his sun lounger, skin still white as a milk bottle, and agrees.

"I think we recreate 'Hysteria' (the album) and 'Pyromania' better than we ever did before, but there's still certain things you can't physically do. When we do the track 'Hysteria', Sav (bass player Rick Savage) and Phil are doing harmonies that are done with about 200 voices on the record.

"We've always been a band who've wanted to get it right on record. It's the only opportunity you have to try to create your own perfection or whatever. And live, you go out to entertain."

"If you want perfection you stay at home and listen to the record. If something's a bit flat live, it's because someone's probably doing a double somersault while they're doing that flat chord!"

"I don't really stand still at all, and you can only really sing properly when you're stood still. But if I did, it'd look silly. I might sound out of breath sometimes, but wouldn't you doing what I'm doing?"

He shrugs his shoulders.

"It ain't an exact copy, but I don't think it lacks that much. There are nights when I can't hack it as well as I'd like, but that's because I've been hacking it really well for the previous four evenings and I'm just shot. Last night I sang OK, but half my job isn't singing, it's getting an audience going."

"The thing is, we set such a standard with our records. Things like 'Tear It Down' (in the UK, the B-side of 'Animal') sound as good, if not better, live. But if we did ten 'Tear It Down''s we'd just become an average rock band."

"What we do on record, five people can't physically do, but we don't want to take out an orchestra, we want it to be us, and we'd rather sound a bit weaker and know that it's us."

Maybe 'weak' isn't such a good word. If 'Hysteria' sounds ragged then it also sounds human. Better that than cheat with tapes, as Whitesnake's Rudy Sarzo was convinced Leppard did.

After all, Def Leppard's sometimes slow, sometimes breakneck rise both over here and over there owes something to polish, but a whole lot more to pure guts.

[mistressmysticsworld]

The Scent of Green Papaya: Gender Roles in Old Vietnamese Society.

The Scent of Green Papaya (Vietnamese title: Mùi đu đủ xanh, French title: L’Odeur de la papaye verte), directed by Vietnamese-French director Trần Anh Hùng, was produced with funding from a French producer. The film portrays the lifestyle of Vietnamese people before and during the Vietnam War (around the 1940s-1970s) and reflects on gender roles in Vietnamese society at that time.

Mùi, an innocent girl from the countryside, has to leave her hometown to work as a servant in the home of a wealthy family whose financial status is deteriorating, located in Saigon, Vietnam. The household includes the father (the wealthy man), the mother (the lady of the house), the grandmother (the wealthy man’s mother), the eldest son Trung, the middle son Lam, and the youngest son Tin. The youngest daughter, Thọ, passed away a long time ago. The middle-aged housemaid is named Tí.

Every day, Mùi leads a simple life and learns from the nature around her with the pure and innocent perspective of a child. An old man named Thuận, who has secretly loved the grandmother since her youth, visits the house every day to gaze at the roof and reminisce about her, with Mùi offering him comfort and companionship.

Ten years later, when Mùi has grown into a twenty-year-old servant, the eldest son Trung decides to dismiss her and send her to work as a servant in the house of his friend, Khuyến. Mùi has secretly loved Khuyến since she was a little girl. Khuyến, also the son of a wealthy family, is a pianist engaged to a woman of his social class named Thu. Their relationship slowly changes as Mùi begins working as a housemaid in Khuyến’s home.

The story unfolds at a slow pace, with no complex plotlines. The film conveys its narrative through artistic elements, sound, and the actors’ subtle expressions, with more than 80% of the storytelling requiring interpretation of the carefully embedded symbols. This unique storytelling style is characteristic of Trần Anh Hùng’s work.

Roles, Responsibilities, and Vietnamese Way of Life — Influence of Chinese Culture in Vietnamese Society

This film reflects Vietnamese society before 1940, when the patriarchal system was still deeply entrenched, manifesting in the way life was organized within households. Since Vietnamese culture has been influenced by Chinese culture, the film subtly reflects the yin-yang energy as per Confucian philosophy.

In this context, balance between male and female energies is necessary to create a warm and harmonious household or society. In the film, the wealthy family’s home is depicted as lacking balance between male and female energies, resulting in a problematic household.

This imbalance is evident from the fact that the wealthy household consists of four males: the father (the wealthy man), the eldest son, the middle son, and the youngest son. The males in the house take no responsibility for anything inside or outside the home, spending most of their time playing music, seeking pleasure outside, and wasting their inherited wealth (the father and eldest son, Trung, often indulging in their desires without concern for the family’s financial status). Midway through the film, the wealthy father, who had behaved properly since the death of his daughter, steals the family’s savings to spend on women, eventually returning home ill and penniless, dying soon after.

Other behaviors also illustrate this imbalance, such as reading leisurely, killing or torturing animals to vent frustrations from a dysfunctional family (the middle son Lam, who is emotionally repressed, often uses anger to solve problems and isolates himself with books), or playing cruel tricks on female servants for amusement (the youngest son Tin, who often harasses the servant Mùi, like urinating in a vase she cleaned or hiding a lizard in it to startle her, causing the vase to break in hopes that Mùi would be punished. However, the lady of the house understands the situation and does not blame Mùi, knowing it was her son’s doing).

In contrast, the women in the household are responsible for domestic duties and earning money. These women include the grandmother, the mother (the lady of the house), and the elderly maid. The film shows that the female energy in the household is weaker than the male energy, with the women being middle-aged to elderly and having less power compared to the younger and middle-aged men who still hold much control.

Additionally, the film portrays the character Thuận, the old man who secretly loves the grandmother, as an outsider with no voice or status to influence or act as he wishes, in stark contrast to the four men in the wealthy family, who have the authority to do whatever they please. The women, meanwhile, lack the power to criticize or condemn any wrongdoing.

Interestingly, the women in the film end up blaming themselves when bad things happen within the family, reflecting the strong presence of patriarchy in both the wealthy family and Vietnamese society at the time.

Therefore, the lady of the house feels compelled to bring in a new servant, the young Mùi, to restore the household’s balance. For the lady, Mùi is more than just a servant; she becomes a replacement for the daughter she lost to illness many years ago. The lady even admits that having Mùi in the family has helped heal her emotionally from her previously unhappy life.

Additionally, the household comes to view Mùi as a “daughter” of the family in a way. The lady once believed that Lam (the middle son) might fall in love with Mùi and take her as his wife, but he does not, instead moving away to pursue a secluded life writing books, possibly signifying that he sees her as a sister. Another significant event is when Trung (the eldest son) dismisses Mùi and sends her to work as a servant in the home of his friend Khuyến, which parallels the tradition in Chinese or Vietnamese culture where a daughter marries into her husband’s household.

Thus, the roles of daughter, bride, and servant in this film are almost indistinguishable, as serving, pleasing, and supporting fathers, brothers, and husbands are still considered the duties of women in Asian culture.

Mui’s Social Status Progression through Film Symbols

At the age of 20, Mùi moves to work at Khuyen’s home, a pianist who lives alone, with occasional visits from his fiancée, Thu. Mùi’s daily routine consists of cooking, cleaning, checking the house, polishing shoes, and mending Khuyen’s clothes. Everything she does is filled with love and willingness, as if she were already his wife.

In contrast, Thu represents a modern woman who disdains traditional domestic roles. She enjoys nightlife and prefers dining out (even though Mùi prepares meals for them, Thu insists on Khuyen taking her out). She also openly invites Khuyen into his bedroom for sex, even when Khuyen appears reluctant, reflecting her modern, forward-thinking approach to relationships.

Thu brings a vase to Khuyen, which symbolizes her assertiveness in the relationship. This can be interpreted as Thu offering herself, her love, and her body too openly, which, from a male perspective, can make a man feel as though he has “lost his masculinity” or his natural role as the pursuer. Khuyen’s indifferent response to the vase, telling her, “It’s broken,” reflects his lack of care or interest in Thu’s affections or her body, which she persistently offers to him. Thu tries to dismiss this rejection by laughing, attempting to cover her disappointment.

Meanwhile, Mùi’s simple life in Khuyen’s home slowly nurtures his growing affection for her. Mùi begins to sense Khuyen’s feelings through his drawings on his music sheets. This shows that Mùi’s presence occupies his thoughts, even during his work. However, Mùi understands her status as a servant, knowing that her feelings for Khuyen, and his for her, are seemingly impossible.

Mùi’s struggle to suppress her feelings is symbolized in the scene where she extinguishes a burning mosquito coil to prevent the fire from spreading, representing her attempt to quell the emotions stirring within her.

The roles of being the “dominant one” and the “submassive one” become clearer in the scene where Mùi dresses beautifully in a red outfit. This shows that no matter how hard she tries to suppress her feelings, she is pleased to know that Khuyến has positive feelings toward her. Her happiness is reflected in her appearance, wearing makeup and lipstick, symbolizing her heightened sexual emotions. However, at the same time, she feels fear toward him, knowing she is merely a servant and a woman with no rights or ability to confront Khuyến.

This feeling is illustrated when Khuyến notices that she has applied lipstick. He behaves like a predator stalking its prey, slowly creeping up on her. When Mùi becomes aware of this, she quickly runs away to hide in fear and paranoia. Khuyến then searches for her around the house, but when they meet, Mùi exhibits submission out of fear and embarrassment. This causes Khuyến to stop pursuing her, as he does not want to frighten her.

The fast, pounding music expresses Khuyến’s anger when his fiancée touches his head playfully. It is well-known that in Southeast Asian cultures, especially among men, the head is considered sacred, and it is a tradition that women should not touch it without permission. If they do, it is seen as disrespectful and a sign of elevating themselves above the man.

Khuyến’s fiancée, however, is a high-society woman, representing a modern woman raised in Western culture. She is outspoken, direct, and bold in expressing her thoughts. Her clothing is also modern, made from expensive fabrics and designed stylishly.

In stark contrast, Mùi is mostly silent throughout the story, only speaking when ordered by her employer or when necessary to respond. She remains quiet, never questioning or resisting anything. She continues to dress in the traditional Vietnamese áo dài, with a clean, makeup-free face, and her long black hair neatly braided.

In contrast, when Mùi enters the room, Khuyến switches to playing soft, graceful music, revealing his hidden affection for her. His feelings for her are tender, both sexually and romantically. This is immediately recognized by Tu, who secretly watches from the window and realizes that Khuyến, her fiancé, has shifted his affections to another woman. Even though Khuyến tries to suppress his feelings, he ultimately decides to approach Mùi in her bedroom, where she does not resist but simply bows her head in acceptance of what is to come.

Thus, Mui represents a woman completely under a patriarchal system, without even realizing it. She is also a symbol of the idealized Asian woman — submissive, humble, gentle, and compliant, a homemaker who respects all men, regardless of age or whether they violate her. Mùi never demands any rights over her own body, as if she does not know that she has those rights, molded by the societal norms of that time.

When Tu realizes that Mùi has taken her place in Khuyến’s heart, she destroys everything in Khuyến’s house, including breaking her own vase and removing her engagement ring before leaving. Mùi is slapped hard by Tu, forcing her to run and hide in her bedroom, deeply upset. When Khuyến sees the wreckage, he shows no reaction, as if he had expected it and understood Tu’s rage.

Tu’s actions reflect her anger at not being chosen by her lover and her defeat by the deeply rooted patriarchal culture in Asia, even though Western influences were already present in Vietnamese society at that time.

Khuyến later approaches Mui in her room and hands her a beginner’s Vietnamese lesson book, symbolizing his offering her the opportunity to become his chosen wife. This also reflects the male authority of that era, where men were the ones to teach and provide opportunities for women.

After Mùi practices reading and writing Vietnamese for a while, with Khuyến as her teacher, she becomes a woman who can finally express her voice without needing anyone to prompt her. In the final scene, she reads a book to Khuyến and their child in her womb.

Mùi, now wearing a yellow maternity dress, exudes the radiance of motherhood — gentle, warm, and peaceful. She represents a woman in a patriarchal society who has accepted its rules. Despite the hardships, she lives calmly and accepts the course of life, ultimately finding the life she had long desired.

[lavitafattapuntino]

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Cancellare i social è stata la scelta migliore della mia vita, essere continuamente attaccati allo schermo, visualizzare sempre gli stessi contenuti, leggere commenti sempre più tossici, vedere solamente persone che si copiano a vicenda perché quel determinato contenuto ha più visual degli altri e mai nemmeno uno che non abbia critiche perché le persone dietro uno schermo diventano improvvisamente più sicure di se, altezzose e arroganti verso la felicità altrui, ma d'altra parte viene mostrata solo quella piccolissima parte di gioia perché ovviamente che vantaggio ci sarebbe a mostrare il vero io piuttosto che la persona di qui essere gelosi, è ovvio che facendo così ci si sente più importanti, ma è un auto appagazione insignificante se poi togliendo il social ci si sente vuoti dento.

Essere condizionati da ciò che si vede, 300 pubblicità al secondo, continuare a recepire false informazioni, ma soprattutto vedere la personalità e l'originalità di ognuno di noi svanire è la cosa più triste.

I social sono tossici dalla testa ai piedi meglio non averci a che fare, si vive decisamente meglio.

Pace se le persone ha cui dico che non ho nulla mi guardano come un alieno, meglio dedicare il tempo alle cose importanti e trovare la vera felicità nelle piccole cose senza il bisogno di gridarlo al mondo.

Tante volte si preferisce postare foto o video piuttosto che vivere il momento, ci sta per ricordo ma non ci sarà mai quella soddisfazione e quell' emozione nel rivedere un video a schermo in confronto ad averlo visto la prima volta con i propri occhi e non tramite la lente della fotocamera.

Anche perché evitare di stare sempre al telefono non vuol dire staccarsi dal mondo ma esattamente l'opposto, significa ricominciare a vivere respirare aria pulita tornare a usare i sensi e sentire realmente ciò che ci circonda provando emozioni vere.

🇬🇧

Deleting social media was the best decision of my life. Being constantly glued to the screen, always seeing the same content, reading increasingly toxic comments, watching people just copy each other because certain content gets more views than others, and never finding a post without criticism because people behind a screen suddenly become more self-confident, arrogant, and condescending towards others' happiness. On the other hand, only a tiny part of that joy is shown because, obviously, what advantage is there in showing your true self rather than the person people are envious of? It’s clear that doing this makes people feel more important, but it’s an insignificant self-satisfaction if, once you remove social media, you feel empty inside.

Being influenced by what you see, 300 ads per second, continuously absorbing false information, but above all, watching each of our personalities and originality fade away is the saddest thing.

Social media is toxic from top to bottom, it’s better not to have anything to do with it. Life is definitely better without it.

It doesn’t matter if people I tell this to look at me like I’m an alien; it’s better to dedicate time to important things and find true happiness in the small things, without the need to shout it to the world.

Many times, people prefer to post photos or videos rather than live the moment. It's fine for memories, but there will never be the same satisfaction and emotion in watching a video on a screen compared to having seen it the first time with your own eyes, not through the camera lens.

Also, avoiding being on the phone all the time doesn't mean disconnecting from the world, but exactly the opposite: it means starting to live again, breathing fresh air, going back to using our senses, and truly feeling what surrounds us, experiencing real emotions.