#that he volunteered for a testing program on the off chance it would - what. make him better at killing vietnamese civilians i guess?

[maytheoddshq]

Astorian Waldorf (He/Him). District Eight Stylist. 23. Drew Starkey.

What was their childhood like?

Astorian’s childhood was rather different from the majority of the other children in the Capitol. While most enjoyed carefree and spoiled youths Astorian was expected to work hard and train harder. His father was a high-ranking General and eventually, Minister of Defense of Panem, and he expected his son to follow in his footsteps. That meant making sure he focused on his studies at the Academy, along with his athletic training and learning the military history and maneuvers of Panem. Astorian hated it. He had no interest in his father’s interests, he was always more fascinated by his mother, and her love of clothing, jewelry, and shoes. He knew then that that was what he wanted to do, which was to make beautiful things for people to wear. His father scoffed at the idea and told him it was ridiculous, that it would never be acceptable for a man of the Waldorf Family. So Astorian was forced to power through, put on a facade, and hide away his real self to keep his father happy. He became quiet, and distant from his colleagues, but to keep himself from being completely miserable kept a hidden sketchpad, where he would draw out his design ideas. Sure they’d never be real, never be worn by anyone, but they would be his, and he wouldn’t force himself to not have some creative outlet. After the Academy Astorian continued to do as his father asked of him and took the Peacekeeper Officer test, which he passed with flying colors as was expected of him. He was shipped off to an elite training program in District Two, and when he graduated Astorian was assigned to District Eight as the Aide-de-camp to the Head Peacekeeper. There when he wasn’t working, got to see first-hand fabric production, which inspired new ideas in the notepads he was still keeping. Astorian lived and worked in District Eight for the next few years, distinguishing himself as a hard worker, who was loyal and was promoted a few times. Behind that though, he also saw suffering, hunger, and anger. Something he would never forget. When Vox got bad, he was recalled to the Capitol to serve there, but once the fighting broke out in the streets, Astorian saw it as his chance….his chance to have his own life, but also a chance to help the people he saw in Eight. He sided with the Rebels without hesitation. His father perished in the fighting, too stubborn to forgo the Capitol. Astorian inherited the Waldorf Family wealth, their home…everything. He resigned as a peacekeeper, and instantly decided he was going to go into fashion, like he always wanted. When it was announced that the Hunger Games was coming back, he was shocked, but he also saw it as his chance to really get his name out there as a designer, to be a Stylist for the last Hunger Games. It would be historical, so he dropped a kind monetary donation to the Vox government and a request to be a Stylist, along with copies of his sketches proving he had experience in design. 

How do they feel about the Games?

The Games like anyone raised in the Capitol were a big part of his life, in that the time around them was a series of massive parties, and events to attend. He picked out his favorite tributes and felt joy when they earned kills, elation when they won, or disappointment when they lost. He saw them as a natural part of life, they helped keep order in Panem, and they were for the benefit of everyone. When he lived in District Two the many elements of how they lived there reinforced his beliefs, they had a vibrant volunteering system, so many wanted to go into the games, and he imagined it must have been like this in every district. That worldview was shattered when he was put in Eight. When he saw how much they lived in fear of the games, how despondent someone could become when they were selected. He was in District Eight for seven games, and each time he never saw someone happy to be going in, but some one who was all but being dragged into the games. This opened his eyes, and made him realize maybe the games weren’t as popular as he thought, was lead to believe. Maybe they were causing more pain than Panem needed. Still now as a Stylist for the first and possibly last time, he realizes they are a great pathway to fame for a young designer in the Capitol.

What drove them to be a stylist? Do they enjoy it?

Clothing started out as an interest for Astorian. That interest quickly then turned into an escape, an escape to get away from what was the reality of his life. He didn’t want to be a Peacekeeper officer, he knew that he  wanted to do something with clothes. He was always far more interested in the gowns and elaborate pieces that filled his mother’s closet than in listening to his father prattle on about old Panem war stories. When he was refused what he wanted he started designing in secret. Sure, he had no access to fabrics or the time to actually make any of his designs, but late at night he would go under the covers to draw outfits for all sorts of occasions, and events. He was more creative than he expected himself to be, and once he got to District Eight and saw all the patterns, and textures that real unused clothes had, Astorian realized his potential designs had no limit, he could make almost anything he wanted. While these games are his first time getting to see his designs come to life, Astorian is excited he has a passion, a desire, and a love for drawing out his designs, and now he can finally bring them from the page to the real world, that real people can wear. 

How would they describe their style?

Astorian would describe his style as a blend of the various worlds he’s seen, the glamour of the Capitol, the straight edged lines of being a Peacekeeper, the factories of District Eight, they’ve all played a part in helping him figure out his personal style, and what he wants to put others in. He wants to bring new eyes,and new, bold, designs to Panem. Where better to show that off than on the Tributes? He isn’t afraid to try new things, to take risks in what he designs because he knows he’s new on the scene of fashion and that means he’ll have to do a lot if he ever wants to be taken serious since he has no formal training with design. 

How do they treat their tributes?

Astorian treats the tributes like anyone else. He’s learned from his youth from living in District Eight that the tributes are mostly scared, lonely, afraid of the people of the people around them or hungry and desperate to get back home, or to have a dignified death. He understands that as a Stylist even this one time he is helping in turning them into a spectacle but that doesn’t mean he can’t try and help them where he can while they are in the Tower. He wants to be able to offer an ear, lend a hand, and help make their last week or so before they head into the Capitol as comforting as it can be. Besides any designer is only as good as the relationship with their models and muses. 

What is their personality like?

Astorian unlike a lot of Capitol natives is personally not loud, or bold. He’s quiet, keeps to himself, in fact you could almost call him shy. He’s never cared for parties, and never sought the limelight. He would describe himself as sensible, and pragmatic. He does view himself as hard working, and dedicated to what he sets his mind to. While he may not be rushing to make friends, he is loyal to the ones he has, and would never betray anyone who has gained his trust. He never backs down from a fight that he believes in, especially now that he’s finally independent to be who he wants, and do as he pleases. Astorian is not a person who expresses himself fully, and lot of his fear of personal expression comes from how he was raised, having to hide who he really was, having to live up to his father’s expectations of him. Now that he can be himself, Astorian finds himself having to fully figure out who he is as an individual beyond a rich, former peacekeeper who wants to design clothing. 

Three strengths and three weaknesses? + Articulate + Dutiful + Meticulous - Asocial - Fickle - Timid 

Penned by: Devin

[serialreblogger]

ok but. can anyone explain the “slade wilson” thing to me. because correct me if i’m wrong but based on everything i can find he is The Most irredeemable bastard ever to besmirch the already-dubious pages of comic book morality

like, fanon is as valid as canon when it comes to DC comics, we all know this, but just. look okay, here are my notes on him as he appears in canon:

deathstroke, aka slade wilson: wow bootlicker. okay

while actively fighting in the vietnam war, volunteered for experimental army program, reapplied to keep fighting after he eventually woke up from the coma it sent him into (“it gave me super strength tho officer”) & was depressed by the Lack Of Purpose he felt after he was denied the honour of fighting. in fuckin vietnam.

(VIETNAM. THIS MAN IS ALREADY AN IMPERIALIST WAR CRIMINAL AND THAT’S HIS PRE-VILLAIN STORY)

wife adeline kane, also an army general, privately trained him in guerilla warfare (this is fine) & they then got married. she got pregnant, he went to vietnam, baby grant was born; he came back (super-soldier-serumed up), she got pregnant, baby joey was born

after he got kicked out of the military he decided to satisfy his thirst for blood by becoming a “world famous safari hunter” (by day; by night he killed people) until some of the enemies he made broke into adeline’s house & kidnapped joey. kidnapper (“the jackal”) demanded some info on a client of slade’s, he refused bc he figured he could get to his kid in time (and everyone knows the US doesn’t negotiate) and was incorrect: joey’s throat got slashed, wrecking his vocal cords for good. adeline was so angry he’d endangered their son that she shot him in the face, which is how he lost his eye

(he learned nothing from this experience)

in conclusion: this man is a bastard with exactly zero redeeming characteristics. i hope he goes to he*k

he’s also. not a good dad. idk if “got his child’s throat slashed with his arrogance” doesn’t tell u what’s up but how about deliberately getting ur daughter’s adoptive family murdered so u can groom her into an assassin & pump her full of psychoactive drugs without her knowledge or consent? how’s that for fatherhood

i do love his kids tho, don’t get me wrong. he just, very evidently does Not. supplemental notes on Those fucked up relationships below the cut (bc i have a Lot to say about this):

rose wilson:

mom = prostitute (half-siblings with Joey [later aka Jericho] and Grant, both of whom die offscreen due to see below)

was discovered by an enemy of deathstroke when said enemy was off killing the extended deathstroke family. hostage situation, yadda yadda, slade won’t touch her bc his sons just died for someone else’s vendetta & “I’m Too Dangerous To Be Around” syndrome

but then like a year later he. anonymously hired The Same Guy to kill Rose’s adopted family. for bonding.

This Seems Like A Fun Dynamic

kidnaps her (“you’re all i have left”), manipulates her into murdering the guy He Secretly Hired & takes her on as his apprentice (Rose adopts username Ravager)

deathstroke secretly starts injecting her with performance-enhancing drugs that cause her to experience psychosis

Tries to force her to kill her half-bro Jericho (also Slade’s kid) while he (in evil undead ghost form) was possessing the body of her friend (ur kid, ur other kid, who is the first kid’s half-bro and also currently ur kid’s friend? that’s Four strikes At Once my dude)

she does not do so, because she is a human child

*but* to prove that she’s still loyal, she carves out one of her eyes. to match slade.

i am really struggling to see how ppl consider this man redeemable

anyway slade gives her a kryptonite eye prosthetic and tells her to kill superman

dick (who’s pretending to be evil at the time & is acting as rose’s caretaker bc dad can’t be bothered) talks her down and also lets her know that kryptonite is carcinogenic/radioactive

she is furious & finally cuts ties w slade

joins titans under tim’s leadership, bonds w kid devil in particular & shows herself to be brash & aggressive to compensate for transparent insecurity. Wonder Girl (cassie i think) is also in her corner

eventually ends up also bonding w damian. shared assassin trauma ig

oh yeah rose is psychic. btw. that’s a thing she can do

 precognitive w/ visions & dreams

dramatic titans showdown (raven is on the run with a USB stick that has a dead half-brother on it; accuses team of having a traitor, yada yadda, traitor turns out to be bombshell)

results in the resurrection of Rose’s previously undead (ghost-flavour) half-brother, Jericho, aka Joseph, aka Joey.

They’re friends <3

anyway now if u want to write rose &/or joey wilson content here, u now have some canon-sourced footnotes to kick off of. please write rose & joey content. i am desperate for some sympathetic depictions of these poor siblings that also fully punish slade for his whole odious deal, that’s my wish fulfillment and i have too much chronic illness to write it myself (i am Once Again Asking for extremely specific fandom content that is not created by me)

[anothertimdrakestan]

How DARE You Go And Die On Me???  - Jason Todd x Reader Soulmate AU -

Words: 2.1k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Jason Todd x reader soulmate AU pleasssse where when you touch them with skin for the first time there’s sparkly lights that only you and your soulmate see or something and you feel really warm and your soulmate glows or something? Thank you ❤️”

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

I love this request. So much. I hope y’all enjoy this one because I really got to live out my famous science nerd dream. Thank you for the amazing request! I secretly love soulmate AU’s hehehe so please send more! Y’all are so creative with them too :)))

Soulmates were a sore subject for you. At a young age you glowed bright red, and it was the most crushing moment of your life. Soulmate glows only occurred when you touched your soulmate for the first time or when they died. Knowing this meant you would never meet your person was hard, but you hoped maybe you’d be one of the lucky ones who got a new soulmate, seeing as you were so young. But years later nothing had happened even though you stayed hopeful. Unlike so many who go off the rails once they realize there’s no one for them, you dedicated your life to researching soulmates, and it was incredibly fulfilling. As a high school intern working under a group of molecular biochemists, world renowned computer scientists, and psychiatrists you were worked towards creating a drug that made you glow in your soulmate color, it would make finding soulmates much easier and from there you could maybe make a sensor and go international with your research. Who wouldn’t want a drug that finds the person you’re meant to be with?

You’d been tracking soulmates to see if there’s any tell before they find out they are soulmates besides the glowing. It was painful to watch thousands find their life long partner but part of you hoped that by finishing this research you would be able to figure out if your soulmate was really gone, or get filthy rich trying. As just a teenager you planned on working for the company for the rest of your life, staying involved as you pursue your degree then returning, this project was growing up with you. 

As far as you knew, soulmates were drawn together. That was the only explanation as to why so many people in your tests were soulmates. There was something almost magnetic about finding your other half, and you were convinced it was chartable. There was a scientific explanation for everything. 

Finally the drug was ready, after months of blind trials and high highs and low lows it was time for the first wave of real life test runs. Grouping a couple thousand eager participants together, your team split into groups. Taking each participant into a room you gave them the drug and filled the color they glowed, and if anyone matched you’d bring them together. Of course all the interns on your team wanted to try too. 

Stepping up you couldn’t hold in excitement. Since you were only newly a teenager you hoped your soulmate color would be cool. You’d seen some amazing colors and meetings all throughout the day. It couldn’t get more exciting.

Stepping up, you took the drug and waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

But you didn’t glow. “Hey uh Y/N you did say you glowed when you were little right? Sorry to break it to yah kid but yours is gone, we’ve got a couple hundred more tests why don’t yah go home?” a voice came over the intercom, and your heart sunk. Sure some people didn’t glow either, and they all had flashed at some point. Your hope was clearly misplaced. And with a broken soul, quite literally, you went home.

Years later you’d kept with the team. The drug was almost ready to be released officially, and the public was beyond excited. You were 25 now, a huge public face for the soulmate finder, you’d stuck with the program and it had made you practically famous. Doing PR you’d brought the drug on talk shows, finding strangers their soulmate on live TV, you made special appearances to celebrities to find and log their soulmate color. Everyone that took your test had their specific color logged in a huge database, so when you tested if your perfect color matched somewhere your soulmate would get alerted. It was perfection.

Tonight you were going on television to do another round of soulmate finding with a late night host. Nothing new.

“And please welcome, Cupid Herself, Y/N!” The crowd was always full wherever you went, everyone wanted a chance at love as soon as possible. “Now I’m very sorry to disappoint the crowd but we’re bringing out some celebrities who’ve requested a chance at love... I bring you THE WAYNES!” You were a little shocked, you probably should’ve read the brief but no difference, you had enough for about ten people. Standing up you shook Bruce Wayne’s hand, moving onto the chair at the side while Bruce and three of his children walked in. “Hello! Mr. Grayson, Todd, and Ms. Brown right?” the host greeted the three and shook Bruce’s hand, no need for his introduction. 

“These three couldn’t pass up on the opportunity. As you know Mr. Drake-Wayne has found his soulmate and now husband so we couldn’t bring him! And my son Damian was erm- busy.” You saw Jason Todd snort, slightly taken aback by his actions on live television. “Can I just say, I am super excited to be here! It’s a huge honor Ms. Y/L/N this is too cool!” Stephanie got up, giving you a quick hug, you smiled, happy that she was so kind. 

“Well lets get this show on the road! I’m sure millions want to know if any of the Wayne’s are their soulmate!” the host waggled an eyebrow as the crowd cooed. This was basically a chance at the lottery, a Wayne was a ticket to riches for life. Taking the lead you gave your pitch about the drug, taking consent before grabbing a serving for four. Walking up you handed a glass to each boy, finishing with Bruce, but he refused. “Oh no, I don’t want to know” he said softly. The crowd booed, and in a bit of a panic the host said “well then how about the lovely Y/N takes a drink? We all want to know if the creator has a soulmate!” you politely told him and the crowd you’d tried before, but there was no light, explaining how you lost is when you were younger. As you saw the crowd looking upset you decided it was better than nothing.

“How about I try it guys! Maybe something’s changed - find out live here on Late Night!” you pitched into the camera and the host nodded, cutting to an ad-break.

“Does this shit actually work?” Jason turned to you, swirling the liquid around cautiously. “Yes! We’ve been error free for five years!” you said proudly, this was your life's work after all. “And we’re back! How ‘bout we get this show on the road! Grayson you first?” 

With a shrug Dick threw the little up back, and in a few seconds a cerulean blue glowed around him. The crowd oohed and ahhed as Dick smiled. “Any matches?” He looked to you. Glancing over at your guy who had snapped the exact color he shook his head. “Not yet! Dick Grayson-Wayne’s soulmate is still out there!” the crowd rumbled in excitement, everyone wanted a test now.

“Ms. Brown! Care to drink?” Stephanie drank eagerly, and quickly shone a deep royal purple and the crowd cheered. “No match!” you let everyone know and there was another cheer.

“Mr. Todd, you next?” Jason didn’t waste a moment, drinking the liquid he shone the brightest red you’d seen in a while. For a moment it reminded you of your red all those years ago. Looking over it was another no, and the crowd was almost losing it, many girls in the audience begged for a drink to see if they were his lover. 

“And lastly Ms. Y/N! Ready to see the creator try her own drug?!” You corrected him, taking a moment to shout out all the amazing scientists, interns, and volunteers you’d worked with over the years. The crowd cut you off, chanting “DRINK DRINK DRINK” urging you to throw the cup back, the liquid tasted way better than the last time you’d tried it in the trial run. You help out your hand to show the lack of coloration and the audience sighed. Smiling sweetly you began to talk about the drop date.

“Thank you all so much! I’m so excited to release this with my team in just a month. I’d like to once again thank my tea-” you heard a shriek “OH MY GOD THAT’S JASON’S COLOR!!!” and the audience lost it. Confused you saw Jason’s jaw drop, and you looked at your hands that now radiated the same deep red from all those years ago. 

“UM WE’LL BE RIGHT BACK!” the host shouted over the chaos. You immediately got up, rushing to the color scanner. “Holy shit Y/N it’s really Jason’s color.” he confirmed your suspicions and without thinking you sprinted back up to the sofa. Connecting your hand to Jason’s cheek the two of you began glowing the same color. Locking eyes with Jason, you couldn’t help but start crying. The aura radiated between the two of you and Jason pulled you into his chest. 

The camera came on after the 20 second impromptu break. And what they saw made the news that night. “JASON TODD FOUND SOULMATE LIVE ON LATE NIGHT” “CAMERAS TURN ON AND JASON IS HOLDING HIS GIRL - TOO CUTE! CLICK FOR PICS” “JASON TODD CUFFED! SEE THE PICS HERE!” In just the few seconds before they could cut the cameras, millions of viewers saw Jason holding you, the bright red shining around the two of you while you clung to him. And the pictures were everywhere. Pulling you off stage you couldn’t wrap your mind around what had just happened. 

“My- my soulmate died years ago. When I was a kid I took the drug and didn’t shine! This doesn’t make any sense!” you looked up a Jason and practically saw a lightbulb go off. “Well um, were you around 13 when your soulmate died? [ you nodded ] And you were about 14-15 when you tried the drug? [ again he was right ] Okay well long story I died and came back to life. And you must’ve tested when I was still gone” he finished and you almost passed out. “YOU DIED?” you screeched. And he clamped a hand over your mouth. 

“Shh princess that’s valuable knowledge for family and soulmates only” it was slowly starting to register that you were in fact his soulmate. “Soulmates” you whispered, leaning in to hug him again. “Soulmates.” he confirmed. 

“God I have never seen Jaybird this sappy in my life, you might be magical” Dick came up to you, shaking your hand and pulling you in for a hug. “You got a good soulmate Jay. By the way, can I have a couple servings early I’ve got a bet with Timbers that Damian’s soulmate is Jon and I need some soulmate help for myself?” you rolled your eyes and Jason tugged you back to his side. “Back off Grayson she doesn’t even know you!” 

“A little protective already Jay? Poor Y/N get used to this sweetheart” Dick winked at you and you felt Jason tighten his grip around your waist. Dick backed off and Stephanie bounded up to you. “Oh my god Tim’s gonna die he’d totally wanna be here! Plus I bet Bruce is gonna have to do all sorts of interviews now hahaha. How are you doing girl? This is a lot! Welcome to the Waynes!” she said, pulling you in for another tight hug, and the seriousness of finding your soulmate hit you. “Oh my god I’m gonna have to do so much press. How did I not think of this. What are the odds oh no this is gonna be a shitstorm fuck fuck fuck” Jason interrupted you by squeezing your hand. “Uh I really hate press too, I mean Bruce owes me patrol for like a week for just tonight but, if you like, need me for something I can go... does that help?” he looked lost, but it was clear that he wanted to help, and it was adorable. 

“I would like that. And it’s late. I’m exhausted. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow somewhere private? We’re gonna get stalked so maybe you can come over to my place?” you realized you just had to take it step by step, and finding a soulmate was the best first step ever. “Yeah, that seems easier.” Jason sighed, and the two of you exchanged numbers.

“By the way, what does patrol mean? And does the color red mean anything to you cuz it doesn’t to me and usually the color means something but it could not?” You saw Jason’s eyes widen.

“Erm, I’ll tell you tomorrow. It’s another one of those ‘family and soulmates only’ facts. If that’s okay?” you nodded, just happy to have a soulmate.

“Of course Jason, but just know I’m gonna give you a hard time for going and dying on me. Idiot” you stuck your tongue out as he winked.

“Only to make a perfect love story for you princess” and you groaned, but he wasn’t wrong. This one truly one for the books. 

[csnews]

5 beluga whales flown from Canada make a splash at new home in Mystic

Taylor Hartz - May 15, 2021

In the glow of the moonlight late Friday night, a flash of bright white wriggled against the dark sky — a young beluga whale named Jetta, being lifted by a crane.

Jetta and two other belugas from Canada flew into Groton-New London airport on a private plane Friday afternoon and received a police escort to their new home: Mystic Aquarium. Two more whales caught the next flight out and made the same journey early Saturday.

The whales, all between 5 and 6 years old, were brought to Mystic from Marineland in Ontario, Canada, where they were living in an overcrowded tank with 47 other beluga whales.

Mystic Aquarium has been involved in a yearslong process of moving the whales to their spacious new home, the Arctic Coast habitat, joining the aquarium’s three resident belugas: Juno, an 18-year-old male; Natasha, a 41-year-old female; and Kela, a 40-year-old female. Their goal is to work with the whales to pioneer new research methods that will help protect and save wild beluga populations.

“These animals are really, truly ambassadors for their wild counterparts,” said Allison Tuttle, vice president of biological programs at Mystic Aquarium, who traveled to Canada and flew back with two of the whales.

The whales will be a part of non-invasive research at the aquarium that is meant to help with conservation efforts to protect wild belugas. The decision to transport the whales to Mystic from Canada has been a controversial one, however, with many animal rights groups speaking out against the move. The Canadian government this past week approved a permit that allowed the transport to move forward.

Jetta was joined on Friday by travel companions Havana and Kharabali, both females, on the flight from Hamilton International Airport to Groton. After some delays, the plane touched down about 5:45 p.m. and the whales — kept in large, open-air cargo containers filled with water — were loaded off the plane and onto the flatbeds of three waiting trucks.

It took about 2½ hours to fly the first three whales from the Niagara Falls area to Groton and another three to four hours to get them each from the tarmac to the tank. Jetta is 762 pounds and 10 feet 2.8 inches long, Havana is 924 pounds and 10 feet 3.6 inches, and Kharabali is 818 pounds and 10 feet 7.6 inches.

The last two whales, Havok and Sahara, arrived at Hamilton airport about 6 p.m. and had not yet landed in Groton as of 2 a.m.

Held in hammock-like holders inside their containers — with cut-outs on the sides for their fins — the whales made their journey in a C-130 cargo aircraft operated by Lynden Air Cargo with a team of aquarium staff members that included veterinarians and zoologists. They were met at the airport by local police, state police and agents from Customs and Border Control.

Accompanied by a police escort, three flatbed trucks with the large blue cargo containers fastened on the back, each carrying a beluga, made their way from the airport to the aquarium about 9 p.m. to deliver the first three whales. A few dozen employees and volunteers from Mystic Aquarium, clad in bright blue hardhats, stood under a tall crane and applauded as the trucks rolled into the parking lot. When all three vehicles had parked, the employees and volunteers quickly rushed over to start the process of getting the whales safely into their new habitat.

One by one, the whales were lifted out of their cargo containers by a crane, their fins and flukes flapping as water dripped down onto the pavement. They were gently placed onto a rolling cart, which was pushed speedily across the parking lot and into the Arctic Coast habitat, where another crane waited to place the whales into the pool.

The Arctic Coast habitat is a 750,000 gallon pool — large enough to fill Gillette Stadium — broken up into three separate sections. The whales were first released into the medical area, then allowed to swim into the holding area where the trio swam in circles together, cresting the surface and spouting water from their blow holes.

The whales, who are not yet fully grown, will live at the aquarium for at least five years. They will be a part of studies that will help scientists better understand why belugas — especially those living in Cook Inlet off the coast of Alaska — are endangered.

Tuttle said one of the things they’ll be studying is how whales respond to sound. Due to climate change, she said, ships are traveling through Arctic channels that were previously blocked by ice. It’s unclear now how whales that live in these waters will be impacted by the sounds those ships make. The belugas in Mystic will be safely tested to see how they respond when exposed to such sounds in a controlled way that doesn’t stress or scare them.

The whales also will be trained to provide biological samples, including blood, saliva from their blow holes and feces, which will help scientists collect more data on beluga whale health in a safe, non-invasive way.

"This will allow us to study animals in the wild without handling them," Tuttle said. "This is very important work that will allow us to conduct important research about these animals in the wild."

Right now, she said, blood tests are the “gold standard” for determining if an animal is healthy in the wild, but it isn’t always easy to obtain a sample from a wild animal.

The studies were built off framework released by National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, which published a list of things it would be helpful to know about beluga whales. The team at the aquarium took parts of that list and developed plans to collect data that would help NOAA in its efforts.

“It feels really exciting to be able to continue research that not only expands the body of scientific knowledge we have but also will help us protect endangered populations of these animals,” Tuttle said.

Animal rights groups in opposition

Several animal rights organizations that petitioned Canada's Department of Fisheries and Oceans to reconsider issuing the export permit request. The groups say the transport violated the intent of a 2019 Canadian law meant to phase out the captivity of whales by banning their breeding.

The organization Last Chance for Animals asked the Canadian government to deny the permit, saying the transfer would violate the law in addition to endangering the animals. They also said that the lengthy transfer would be stressful and would result in the animals breaking social bonds with other belugas at Marineland.

The organization issued a statement Friday condemning the transfer.

“The (Prime Minister Justin) Trudeau government promised to protect the whales under the Ending the Captivity of Whales and Dolphins Act, and now they are betraying the whales and exporting their commitment. What they are ending is their commitment toward protecting these whales,” LCA's Canadian attorney Miranda Desa said.

According to Daniel Pesquera from the aquarium's Boston-based public relations firm, Regan Communications, moving the animals was in the best interest of the five whales and their species.

“The import permit is partly to get them into a situation where they’ll be in a better habitat with more individualized care,” he said. “And also to get them into a habitat that’s especially designed for research on beluga whales that will help larger populations of whales in the wild.”

The whales were monitored before, during and after the transport by teams of specialists who were tracking not only their physical condition, but their emotional well-being, aquarium President and CEO Stephen Coan said. The teams on the plane monitored their breathing, heart rates and hormones, he said, adding that the animals’ stress and well-being is always a concern.

“If we weren’t concerned about that, we’d be irresponsible,” he said.

After the first flight landed, Tuttle said Jetta, Havana and Kharabali “were doing really well” and arrived happy and healthy.

She noted Friday’s transport was an exciting, invigorating culmination of years of work.

She also stressed that all five of the whales were born and raised in captivity and that because of that, releasing them into the wild was not an option. They never learned to survive in the wild or hunt for food and would likely die if set free in the ocean.

Mystic Aquarium, Tuttle and Cohen said, does not condone the capture of wild animals and had no plans to breed more belugas to be born in captivity.

One of the conditions of the permit being granted was that procreation among the whales must be prohibited. Coan said the aquarium has developed a complex plan to prevent the whales from breeding, including tracking the female whales’ ovulation cycles and separating them from the males during those times.

Coan said that Mystic Aquarium doesn't have plans to rehome any more of the belugas currently living at Marineland, but plans to continue communication and offer support to the theme park as it moves forward with what is best for all the whales in its care.

The five new whales in Mystic will be introduced to their new roommates — the aquarium’s three resident belugas — at their own pace. The animals will see one another through plexiglass barriers at first as the new whales acclimate to their surroundings. They also will be able to communicate while they remain separated. Then, they’ll slowly be introduced into living in the same waters.

It’s not yet clear when aquarium visitors will be able to see the new whales.

“The answer is that the animals are going to tell us when they’re ready (to be in the same pool),” Tuttle said. “Sometimes they get comfortable much more quickly than we think, other times it takes a little longer. But our priority is what is best for the animals, we want to make sure they’re happy in their new home at Mystic Aquarium.”

[excelsi-or]

your type (pt. 1)

Hello friends! I have retuuuuurned. I decided we’d go with the ‘dating you because of a date’ trope story (mostly because I’ve suddenly started OVERHAULING the shit out of the other story I’d proposed to you). It’s a decent-lengthen fic, a little more story-based than snapshot like my past two series. 

w.c. 2.6k (LOL, enjoy the set up. We hit the ground running pretty quick after this one.)

pt. 2

note 1: I’ve tried to make all the characters/idols in this one, so if you see a name and recognize it, yeah, it’s probably the idol you’re thinking of. I haven’t done this in my last two fics because I usually prefer not to, but I needed so many side characters to bring this story to life and I doubted you guys would be interested in me creating a bunch of random names and people you didn’t know. 

note 2: I don’t ship any of the idols that are ‘together’ in this fic or wind up ‘together’ in this fic.

When love is a game on a university campus, the question is always how many people can you get into your bed?

Her girls are all about this game. Between studying for exams, hobbies, volunteering and hanging out; they are swiping left and right, going on dates, meeting new boys on campus that they’ve never interacted with before.

To be systematic about it—because these are science majors—they’ve been working through varying departments. And they’ve left a specific department for their last year at school: the music department. For two reasons.

1)    The hottest boys come out of the music department.

2)    The fuck boys come from the music department.

If her girls are all about meeting and bedding various men, the boys in the music department are playing the same game. And she has heard various stories about girls trying to change these music department fuck boys.

She’s dabbled in the dating scene, but has quickly learned that the boys on campus just tend not to be her cup of tea.

“Party at Jackson’s tonight,” Jihyo tells her as she slips into the seat across from her at their dining room table.

“And who are you chasing after tonight?” she asks simply, erasing the subscript 2 she’d put down next to her carbon.

“Do you know Choi Seungcheol?”

She snorts. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“We’ve been flirting a little.”

Before she can respond properly, the answer to her chemistry question suddenly comes to her. She grumbles under her breath as she proceeds to erase half a page of work. “Did you go for your testing this morning?”

“Still clean,” Jihyo hums. The woman takes the chemistry homework distraction and uses it to her advantage. “How was that boy you met last week?”

“Eh.” She slowly starts over. “He was whatever. Little too handsy, little too spitty. Kinda boring.”

Jihyo laughs. “I still don’t think you’re giving these boys a chance.”

“Boy’s gotta meet my standard or fuck off,” she chuckles. She tosses her pencil into her notebook and closes it. She props her chin in her hands. “I’m guessing since you’re going to distract me from homework until I say I’m going to get ready that you have someone you want me to meet tonight.”

Jihyo shrugs. “No promises, but Cheol did say to bring my friends tonight so we can play card games at Jackson’s tonight.”

She gets to her feet. “We can do that at someone’s house and not at Jackson’s party.” She heads to her bedroom. “But fine. I’m always down to beat new people at cards.”

Having dabbled in a few music classes, she does actually recognize a few of Seungcheol’s friends. Seungkwan and Hansol come as a pair and don’t date around as much as the others do, likely why she’d taken a liking to them. When Jihyo drags her through the crowd at Jackson’s front door and into the living room, those two boys tackle her first.

She winds up on Hansol’s knee, his hand at her waist to balance her there. “How are you? We haven’t seen you since theory class.”

“I’ve been in the research lab,” she laughs. “You said you’d come visit me.”

“Not all of us are graduating, noona,” Seungkwan argues. “You’re done this year, but we have two years left.”

She ruffles his hair. “Excuses, excuses.”

“Have you met everyone else before?” Seungkwan asks when one of his friends returns with a few beers in his hands.

“Briefly.” She shakes her head when Hansol offers the beer.

Proper introductions are made, and conversation is easy. Jihyo is already in Seungcheol’s lap. His hand strokes her bare legs, likely ‘warming’ them. That excuse always makes her laugh.

Momo walks into the room, a little tipsy already, and scans the room. When the taller woman’s eyes land on her, she breaks out into a smile. “I need you to meet someone.” Without a response, Momo grabs her hand and lifts her off Hansol’s knee, pulling her back through the house.

“You good?” she asks Momo once they’re out of the room and entangled in the sea of people.

Suddenly, Momo stops them before an older looking man who looks incredible uncomfortable to be surrounded by university students. 

She stares up at this man and looks between him and Momo. “Who is this?”

“My boyfriend, Heechul.”

Her eyes widen. Momo had been going on about some older man she’d met at a café nearby. And Momo has been asking her to meet Heechul for a while, mostly for approval. Her girls think since she’s picky that she knows how to judge good men. She can’t confirm or deny that.

She holds a hand out. “Nice to MEET YOU!” She has to start yelling, because the music has picked up now that the party’s in full swing.

“Oppa was just dropping Sana and me off and Jihyo said that you were going to be here!” Momo gives her a little push towards Heechul. “Talk to him!”

She tilts her head. “Where are you going?”

“To find Sana and Jihyo!”

Momo pecks Heechul on the cheek and tells him that someone will call to be picked up.

Once his girlfriend wanders off, Heechul looks down at her. She motions towards the door. The man seems confused as to why a little girl is bossing him around, but he leads the way out of the house.

She stands on the front porch, leaning against the beam near the steps. “How old are you?”

“36.”

She almost chokes on her tongue. That is a very apparent 13-year age difference. “Right. Momo said you met in a café.”

“I spilled my drink on her by accident.” Heechul seems hesitant to say more. He leans up and squints at her. “Who are you again?”

“My name doesn’t matter, but I know I have some weight as to whether you and Momo continue to date.” She tilts her head. “Why Momo?”

“Why not Momo? She’s gorgeous, sweet, adorable.”

“What is Momo studying?”

“Something in science, but she’s a dancer at heart.”

She mulls that thought over in her mind. “And what do you do?”

The name is technical, which suggests that his job isn’t CEO. But it sounds stable.

“Kids?”

“None.”

“Married?”

“Never.”

She nods her head and then smiles sweetly. “Nice to meet you.”

Heechul doesn’t call after her like the other boys tend to do when she abruptly ends her weird interview, which reflects his age. But she knows he’s definitely confused by the way he lingers in the walkway.

Inside, her ears need to readjust to the volume. She weaves her way back through the house, the bass trying to alter her heartbeat in her chest. Just as she’s about to join her friends in the living room, she gets stopped by Jeon Jungkook. They’d dated for nearly a year during her second year of university. He’s dating his roommate now, but they’re still close. Jungkook picks her up around the waist and spins her.

“I haven’t seen you in ages! Why does it feel like you disappeared off the face of the planet?” Jungkook demands.

“I’m in hiding!”

“Hiding?”

“Don’t want you to suddenly fall back in love with me and leave Taehyung!” she teases. “Where is he anyway?”

Jungkook pecks her cheek. “Somewhere here! I had to drag him out from under his chemistry thesis!” Kim Taehyung wound up joining the chemistry graduate program at the university. His brain is legendary in the chemistry department.

“Tell him I say hi!”

“Where you going?”

She points to the living room over his shoulder. Jungkook’s brows rise, impressed. When they used to come to parties, they’d spend most of the time in whatever game room existed. Many of the houses they visited owned a pool table, and if people weren’t having sex on it, she, Jungkook, and a few of their friends would play rounds of pool until everyone else was too drunk to shoot straight.

“Aren’t Mingyu and his friends in there?”

She rolls her eyes, a smirk on her face. “Wish me luck!”

Jungkook laughs. “You don’t need it! Those guys would be insane to tangle with you!” He gives her a quick kiss on the forehead and pats her lower back. “I would know!”

They promise to meet up for a late lunch the following day after he’s nursed his hangover, and she rejoins her friends in the living room. Momo drags her to the floor. “What did you think of Heechulie?”

She gauges Momo’s expression. Her eyes are out of focus, which suggests intoxication thus suggesting more emotional responses. “Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

“Yo.” She looks over at Hansol’s voice and catches the Coke can he tosses at her. The boys all ‘oh’ loudly, and she furrows her brow at the overreaction.

Suddenly, someone is leaning towards her and whispering, “He promised that one of you would be sober.”

She turns and finds herself face-to-face with Mingyu. “Okay…”

“It makes Stress a little more challenging,” Mingyu clarifies.

Stress is a speed-based card game, one that Jihyo had taught her last week. Now that she knows the boys love to play it, she understands where Jihyo learned it. When the woman had taught it to her, Jihyo had said, “I can’t wait until you get to play them!”

It had been such an odd comment at the time, but now that there’s a Stress tourney happening in the living room with 8 decks of cards, she gets it.

And here she is, after three rounds of Stress with various people, sat across from a man she only met properly about ten minutes ago: Jihoon. He’s flushed in the face from the heat of the party, the alcohol, or the anxiety of all the people who have been cycling through the room to watch.

“How drunk are you?” she asks as she shuffles.

Jihoon tips his head both ways. “I’ve had two.”

“Shots? Or beers?”

“Shots.”

She nods her head as she begins dealing.

“Noona, it’s not fair!” Chan whines, leaning into her. They’d played each other in the first round, and even with her going slow, she’d still won. “You’re not as drunk as us.”

Gently, she eases him into Seokmin. “I don’t drink. You guys wanted to play, so we’re playing.” She catches Jihoon’s gaze. “Do you care?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Nah. Easy win regardless.”

Jihyo’s laugh is short and loud to prove a point. “Even if you were sober, Jihoon, she’d smoke you.”

Jihoon gives his head another shake as Seungcheol shouts go.

And she wins.

She has to squirm out of all the grabby hands that try to toss her into the air in victory. “I’ll be back.” She gets up and starts towards the kitchen. She feels someone following her and finds Jihoon there.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” he states.

She doesn’t question it. It is a house party. Guys she doesn’t know will try anything. She ducks around arms and around hands that try to grab her when they call out to her in greeting. She, however, pounces on Min Yoongi who is standing in the kitchen talking with someone.

“Hey kid,” Yoongi says once he gets over the surprise. “Haven’t seen you in eons.”

She digs around in one of the coolers for a Coke. Her drink had spilled four minutes into the tournament when Seokmin had lost and flailed his arms around, promptly knocking her drink off the table. “Jungkookie and I are going for lunch tomorrow. You should come if you aren’t busy.”

Yoongi hums. “Sure, kid.” He glances at someone over shoulder. “I can move some stuff around.”

She gives his arm a squeeze before venturing back through the mass of humans. When someone bumps into her, causing her to topple backwards, she falls back into Jihoon. His cool hands and broad chest keep her steady and guide her back to the living room. He releases her and returns to his spot at the opposite end of the room.

A beer she hadn’t noticed Jihoon take is passed off to Jeonghan. The boys all have someone in their lap or someone trying to get into it, and a few of her girls have disappeared.

She glances at the clock. Jihyo catches her doing this. “You can go,” Jihyo mouths.

She juts her chin their direction. “You going home with Cheol?” she mouths back.

Jihyo glances down at Seungcheol who is talking to Joshua, and then meets her eye again with a nod.

Immediately, she gets to her feet again and begins saying her goodbyes.

“You heading out?” Jihoon asks from his spot on the floor next to two girls and Wonwoo.

“Yeah. Music’s making my head pound.” She squeezes Wonwoo’s outstretched hand and runs a hand through Seungkwan’s hair as she passes.

Once again, when she glances over her shoulder, she finds Jihoon behind her.

“What?”

“Walking you home.” He’s already grabbing his jacket from the overstuffed hall closet. Some people’s jackets have landed on the floor.

She smirks. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You’re gonna walk home alone at night?” He shrugs his jacket on.

“You’re tipsy,” she snorts. “You should stay here.” She slips past him to find her own coat. It’s tangled in the back. Jihoon nudges her out of the way to grab it. He helps her into it.

“Are you going to say goodbye to say bye to Jackson first?” he asks.

“I don’t actually know him.” She zips up her coat and meets his eye. “You go say bye.”

“Come on.” Jihoon motions with his head for her to follow.

“No, I’m good.”

Jihoon somehow knows that if he leaves her for a second, she’ll be out the door without him. “Let’s go then.”

She doesn’t question him. As they walk back to her apartment, she pops open the Coke can still in her hand. “Just so you know, the walk is twenty minutes.”

“You were going to walk twenty minutes on your own?” Jihoon demands.

She glances over at him. “I didn’t realize you were so chivalrous.”

“And I didn’t realize you were an idiot.”

She snorts. “The walk’s well-lit and I find it’s more comfortable than taking the bus or a taxi.”

“Any walk is nice until it’s not.”

Instead, this walk is almost awkward. With anyone else, it definitely would have been. They say next to nothing the entire twenty minutes, though he does sip the soft drink when offered. At her lobby door, she turns and smiles. “It was nice to meet you. Thanks for walking me home.”

Jihoon studies her for a while. She wonders if this is one of his moves. She’s heard of Jihoon’s reputation through the grapevine. And if this is one of his moves, does this really get the ladies going?

Eventually, the scrutinizing goes on for so long that she slowly backs towards the door to go inside.

“Do you want to go for breakfast?” he calls after her.

“Breakfast?”

“I heard you say you were busy at lunch. How about breakfast?” Jihoon asks.

She glances over her shoulder as she unlocks the door. She lets herself into the apartment and stands half in and half out. “Sure. Goodnight.”

“What? You’re not going to give me a number to call you? You could just say no.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Not as drunk as I thought. 9 AM here then.”

His brow furrows. “You want me to pick you up?”

She glances up towards the lights above the doorway that name her building. “You know where I live. 9 AM.”

Jihoon nods. “Okay.”

pt. 2

[defyances]

𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐀

( where yugen is so incredibly obsessed with this woman that she decides to rant about her )

on: her followers

to start us off, we’ll discuss the main event of irelia’s performance: her relationship with blossoming blade. they are very close with each other, and it can be interpreted as platonic or romantic. i only say this because they establish their relationship as teacher/student, a platonic/familial bond that can be as powerful as a romantic one. but i also digress, given the affectionate remarks they give each other such as:

irelia: i wish i could give you silks, but i must give you steel. blossoming blade: stay by my side. i cannot ask for more.

irelia: ionians into formation! blossoming blade: i’d follow you to the black heart of noxus itself.

&& there is so much more. blossoming blade is not confident in her ability to fight, much like irelia && her lack of confidence in her ability to lead, which might explain why irelia has some sort of connection to her. she sees her as a mirror of herself, and much like she needed at one point, blossoming blade needs someone to support her. so, she will give that plus much more. lastly, irelia’s reaction upon blossoming blade’s death; it is simply undeniable that they love each other.

i am a bit bothered by the lack of interactions between irelia && zinneia since it is implied that zinneia is her former mentor:

irelia: zinneia, you are a master at your craft. zinneia: and fate has sent you to give my craft purpose.

irelia: as a child, i watched you dance at the placidium every spring. zinneia: it was your bravery that brought me to the fight.

i was hoping to have more information on their relationship && the sort of impact zinneia had on irelia, but at the same time, it gives me the opportunity to fill in the gaps! given zinneia’s interactions with the rest of irelia’s followers, she is an elder ( we will not talk about how that isn’t reflected in her card art ) who leads the dance program at the placidium. while irelia’s o’ma taught her how to dance, zinneia perfected it with her lessons, and she became the mother/grandmother figure in her life once all her family members passed away. it assures me that irelia did have a support system ( even if a part of her might disagree. ) i will do a more thorough ( * headcanon based ) look at their relationship in another post.

when irelia said she is a warm && caring person, she really meant it. she cares a great deal for her followers as shown:

coastal defender: generations tended this land. i cannot leave. irelia: we must retreat for now, but i promise we’ll return.

ribbon dancer: stand behind me! they won’t hurt you. irelia: if they hurt you, i’d never forgive myself.

fighting for your freedom is important, yes but not so recklessly. if a battle isn’t turning out in their favor, irelia would rather retreat and keep her followers safe rather than dying in vain. her tone is mother-like, always worrying for them even though they are confident and determined to protect their home, and at their deaths, she is torn apart. she is both grateful ( ‘ your sacrifice mattered ’ ) && heartbroken ( ‘ so young . . . ’ ), which is why i emphasize her hesitance to believe in herself as a leader. she is responsible for their lives and for each that falls, she fails. she cannot fail them ( something she says herself upon the death of her card ); her people deserve to live to see the day of bittersweet victory.

on: noxus

as expected, irelia harbors a lot of hate towards them, and rightfully so. however, what i want to talk about is riot confirming my assumption on how deep this hate runs.

imperial demolitionist: for the empire. irelia: so young, already so wicked.

imperial demolitionist: remember the objectives. irelia: ‘murder the innocent’ and ‘destroy their homes’?

for those who don’t know, imperial demolitionist is a child. irelia is speaking to a child and not in a tone you would expect an adult would talk to a child ( especially one who was brainwashed to commit awful atrocities. ) this confirmed my headcanon of irelia’s white && black mentality: no matter who you are or how you came to be, if you are noxian, she will kill you. she will refuse to see you as anything but a tyrant, and she will continue to allow this hate to fester and dehumanize noxus as a whole. she won’t even refer to them by name! she has her reasons, given how much they have taken away from her, but it doesn’t make it right. as we all know, noxus has slaves, ranging from adult to children, and will send them to war whether they volunteered or not. they have to act in order to survive, but irelia can’t see that they’re trying to live; she sees them trying to kill her home, so in turn, she’ll kill them. && that is a flaw i will cover more on in another post.

even though the faith in herself wavers, the passion to protect ionia doesn’t with how confident she talks back to the noxians. she threatens them, promises to kill them, even when faced with their technology and their machinery. she has that much faith in her people and the land, and it’s admirable. no wonder why people follow her.

on: shurima

i never expected interactions between irelia and the shurimans ( especially with azir and nasus ), but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless! azir && irelia are two fierce leaders, fighting tooth and nail to secure the safety of their homes; however, the difference between their idea of leading is evident within their interactions.

azir: a leader must see victory beyond each loss. irelia: my heart weeps for every fallen ally.

azir: war is an instrument that can make or destroy its leaders. irelia: instruments create beauty; war ends it.

from my perspective, azir isn’t so affected by the loss of lives in the war like irelia is ( it could be because he’s become desensitized after leading for so long or he truly doesn’t care ), and i could be wrong as i am not so familiar with azir. but with irelia, it is obvious that she is very sensitive towards the death of her people. whether they were close to her or not, as far as she knows, they were innocent souls, and they were dragged into this war unprepared. so many lives lost, so many deaths unjustified — it is simply unfair to her people, who have done nothing wrong. && no matter how many times she’s seen a body belonging to the first lands, it never hurts any less. she’s been able to mask that pain over the years she’s grown, but she still grieves, and it can be seen/heard whenever someone very close to her dies.

another difference i like to point out between the two leaders is their viewpoints on war: azir sees war almost like survival of the fittest. in the second quote, war is a way to create leaders, the best of the best while irelia sees it as destroying the beauty of life. war is a massacre, no matter which side wins, && even though she also strives for victory, she will only remember it as the day that peace died.

nasus: sorrow weighs upon you, but death could bring you peace. irelia: not yet, curator. i am far from done.

this made me snort because it’s basically nasus telling irelia, “k’ing yourself would make you feel better,” but i’m sure it isn’t meant to sound that way. rather, he understands her grief && how badly it is affecting her, so he is “testing” her will to see how strong it really is. if she had the opportunity, would she die && end her suffering there, or would she continue to preserve despite the agony she holds in her heart? irelia answers almost incredulously; if she dies now, ends her suffering now, who will lead her people to victory? certainly not anyone she knows/trusts. so, she cannot die. she will not die, not until she knows that her home is safe. ( this plays a bit into my headcanon that irelia doesn’t really fear death since she anticipates the day of reuniting with her family && ending her torment. )

there isn’t much to say about her interactions with the soothsayer && the voice of the risen other than she’s grateful for their aid in these trying times.

on: miscellaneous champs

lastly, i’ll be touching upon her interactions with in-game characters — which, suffice to say, isn’t a whole lot. it’s a bit disappointing. i expected more interactions with shen, karma, riven, and zed; i expected interactions with yasuo, yone, and lulu ( who is apparently in ionia?? ) but unfortunately, we weren’t given that. but i won’t say i’m heavily disappointed either because we did get some interactions with ionian && noxian champs plus extra.

shen: the balance requires a watchful eye. irelia: ionia needs brave hearts and able hands, too.

much like akali, irelia does not believe in waiting around && letting the land fight on its own. she even questions shen’s philosophy because of the slaughter that happened, which makes me theorize her faith in the spirit; clearly, she still believes in it but not so deeply like shen and the elders.

karma: ionia speaks through me. irelia: then tell me when this bloody fight will end?

she even questions the spirit of ionia itself, in a tone that is tired and desperate to end this terror. she is a lot nicer to karma in lor than lol, which confirms my suspicion that while irelia was initially frustrated with karma’s ( lack of ) action, she has come to understand her reasoning through the years that they’ve worked together.

zed: pledge yourself to the shadows. irelia: noxian tyranny has already forged our bond.

riven: [ dies ] irelia: irredeemable.

isn’t it crazy how irelia would rather side with the “evil” shadow master rather than the former noxian? of course, zed isn’t all bad, and riven isn’t all good, but it just further proves how she doesn’t treat noxians as humans at all; however, i would also like to point out her interaction with riven is if she’s against her. irelia would perhaps give her a chance if her quote in-game with her proves anything: “you want redemption? join me, and kill your masters!”

&& i’m still flabbergasted by her interaction with zed. she might not entirely agree with him, but she’ll work with him without hesitance. after all, they do share the philosophy of killing all noxians.

irelia: join us, prince jarvan. dance by our side. jarvan: i’m afraid i was born with two left feet. it’s a lightshield thing…

jarvan: noxus will pay for what they did to your people. irelia: yes, demacian prince. we will see to that.

so not only does she have shurima’s support but also demacia’s! a bit shocking since demacia is antimage and irelia is technically a mage, but i am glad to see that she and jarvan are on good terms.

irelia: my family...h-have you seen them? kindred: drifting between innocence and consequence.

STOP!! astra and i literally discussed this: if irelia was given the chance to talk to kindred, she would most certainly ask for her family && question why she was spared. of course, kindred would answer ominously, which in this interaction, makes me curious. between innocence and consequence? what do they mean? is her family stuck in limbo? are they currently being judged based on irelia’s actions in life? or are they waiting for irelia to join them? perhaps we’ll never know.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 9

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 9

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The Gala. The Wayne Gala. The Wayne New Year’s Gala. The Wayne Gala to celebrate the New Year.

“I can’t do it!” Marinette screamed. “What if I trip and fall on Mr. Wayne and then he will break his leg!? Or what if I accidentally babble something I’m not supposed to and make it a disaster!? Or what if Lila makes a mess and I get blamed for it in front of thousands of people!?” She started breathing heavily. “Or maybe I’ll just look awkward and people decide that I’m useless and Mr. Wayne decides that I should leave Damian to spare him the embarrassment?! I can…” Tikki slapped Marinette when she didn’t respond to any of her pleas.

“Marinette! Breathe.” The Kwami instructed her. 

“Sorry Tikki. I’m really nervous. I know that making the announcement today is the best option since we’re starting school soon and the news would break anyway, but it’s just so… I’m not used to all that.” 

“I know Marinette. But you must accept that your beloved lives in these circles and you must respect some of the needs. He’s changing for you, but you can’t just demand he abandon his old life.” 

“I know… I really want to make this work. He… I know I can trust him like nobody else. Even… even you… I love you, but you’re not…”

“Human?”

“Yes! I’m sorry Tikki. You’re still my partner and my best friend. Don’t tell that to Chloé though.”

“My lips are sealed.” The kwami giggled. “You’re my favorite chosen too, Marinette. You have the true creation inside you.”

“Thanks, Tikki.”

“Not get on and show them what you’re made of!” The little goddess cheered. 

“Yes! I’m going to rock! I’m great!” The girl said confidently and put on the purple mask with golden lines. 

-------

Damian waited impatiently for his beloved to come. The guests were already filling in and his father and brothers went to greet them. Tom and Sabine, dressed in their MDC original outfits, were already on the dance floor, showing everyone that they could still move even in their forties. Cass was probably somewhere with Bourgeois, stealing cookies or something. The two seemed to bond over being the third wheel and treating Sabine like their new mother. 

“Wassup Dames?” A voice startled him and Damian whirled around with a punch that stopped an inch from Jon’s nose. 

“Tt. Aren’t you supposed to be downstairs? With the guests?” He grumbled. 

“Nah. Mom and Dad are with your dad, going over the safe questions to ask your wi…” Jon didn’t get to finish that word because Damian lunged at him and covered his mouth. 

“Tt. Shut up. The last thing I need is drama caused by your big mouth.” 

*muffled sounds*

“I don’t care. Mouth shut or I’ll test the new Kryptonite dusters.”

*more muffled sounds*

“I did get them. Want me to try them out right now?” Jon shook his head. “Good. We’ve got an agreement?” A nod. “Fine.” Damian let him go.

“You’re very violent, you know that?”

“Tt. Shut up.”

“I’m just saying.” 

“I told you to…” Damian’s words died in his throat. Marinette entered the scene.

“Shall we?” She asked, handing him a sleek black mask with gold details. When light reflected from it, a very subtle purple gleam could be seen.

“It’s incredible, Habibti. Just like the rest of my suit.” He was dressed in a pure-black three-piece, a white shirt underneath, and had a black tie. He screamed style and power.

-------

All in all, the trip was not yet a disaster for Lila Rossi. Her lies were slowly taking root in the people around her. Like the clerk at the Hotel. Soon, she would have them all wrapped around her fingers. Only Maribrat and Chloé seemed to be completely immune to her charms. But that girl was too goody-two-shoes for her own good and Bourgeois was hated even before she started her work. 

There was also that exchange student, Grayson boy… Darren, Damien, something like that. She couldn’t believe she thought that guy was Damian Wayne when he first walked into her class. She went as far as stopping Alya from being mean to him. From her research, all Waynes were kind and helpful. Damian Wayne supposedly volunteered at an animal shelter. The press described him as ‘cute in a special way.’ Blasted Waynes and their no-pictures policy. The guy in her class looked a bit similar to Bruce Wayne, at least at first glance. Then, she noticed that his skin was darker (not just solar tan), his nose was a bit different too. And his eyes were green. It was the only constant with the Waynes. They all had dark hair and blue eyes.

As such, she dismissed him as unimportant and focused on her more important goals. Making a deal with Gabriel Agreste, or rather Hawkmoth, was risky. In the end, it worked out for her in many ways. She gained a foothold from which she made her small empire. And Agreste boy was nice arm candy for a while. Until he went all psycho on Maribrat that is.

Now if she found one of the Waynes, she could start working on worming her way in. Blasted masks! They appeared too good in the media not to have a big dirty secret to exploit. Blackmail wouldn’t be new for her. 

The Gala was slowly starting when all the lights turned off. Two stage flood lights focused on the stairs leading to the second floor of the manor. Two people appeared on them. First was a young man, about her age, dressed all black. He radiated money and influence and she was sure what he wore was in fact an MDC original. But he was nothing next to his companion.

Her dark-purple dress shone in the light like a thousand diamonds. It hugged her figure perfectly and while she was most likely the same age as her companion, she still looked stunning. The high collar was embroidered with a golden thread that formed intricate patterns around her slender neck. The sleeves went down to her arms where they seamlessly merged with gloves. The line was blurred by twin bracelets that each had a symbol of a bat with flowers. A nod toward the Bats of Gotham while keeping it original. From the waist down, it opened on the side, giving her the freedom to move while still keeping the near-royal appearance. With each step, it flowed slightly, revealing the golden underlining. Her legs were also covered with the same material down to ballet shoes in a deeper shade of purple finished with golden lining.

Her blue hair reached slightly beyond her shoulders and matched her eyes perfectly. All the gold and purple served to make everyone focus on her. 

Lila cursed under her breath. There was no chance anyone would notice her with someone like that parading around. Something had to be done. Lila checked her own dress. It was pretty, but when compared to that, it came plain. 

All her scheming came to the halt when the pair walked over to Bruce Wayne and got him to stop speaking with Gotham’s mayor. They knew him. A realization dawned on her. It was Damian Wayne and his date. They had to be. But his eyes… they were green. 

“No…” escaped the Liar’s lips. The woman she was talking to noticed and followed her gaze. Some part of Lila’s brain noticed she also checked her dress and was saddened. At least her reaction was not out of place. 

Bruce Wayne walked with the two back to the stairs where the stand with a microphone was prepared before the lights were turned back on. Sensing a juicy story, all the journalists and bloggers swarmed as close as possible. Some even lost their masks. 

“Can I have a moment of your attention?” The billionaire asked. His eyes swept over the crowd. “Before I start, I wanted to remind you that there is a strict no-photos policy on the gala. We’ve hired a photographer with an exclusive contract and any pictures taken not by him will be considered a breach and will be met with a lawsuit.” 

The murmurs broke all around the crowd. It was a known fact that taking unsolicited photos at Wayne Galas was forbidden. There was no need to remind anyone about it unless it was a really juicy piece. The last time Bruce Wayne took time to remind everyone about this was when Jason Todd turned out to be alive and well, only slightly amnesiac. 

“Now. First I wanted to welcome everyone to this year’s Gala. We’re closing another year and I thank everyone for showing up to celebrate with me and my family.” He raised a small glass of champagne. “In particular, I wanted to welcome a class from Paris that is participating in the year-long exchange program funded by the Thomas Wayne Education fund. I hope you enjoyed Gotham so far.” The journalists were frantically noting everything down. Either for publishing or just to put it in tabloids with some conspiracy theories. “Now, onto the main reason for the announcement. You know I’m not good at speeches.” He grinned and the crowd exploded into laughter. “Since my son just returned from Paris, I’m well aware that this news would break anyway when he returned to school. I ask you to respect their privacy and… well, at least try not to bother them. May I introduce Damian Wayne and his girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Everyone started to either whisper or frantically make notes and think of questions to ask. The fact that Damian Wayne, dubbed Ice Prince of Gotham, got himself a girlfriend serious enough to be introduced to everyone was already front-page news for many of them. Even just the dress she wore was front-page news. Any journalist that dabbled in celebrity fashion would recognize an MDC original by now, at least from Jagged Stone or Clara Nightingale. The two refused to even consider anything else. 

“Tt. Against my better judgment, I know that teenagers are walking gossip machines so you would all learn it the moment we entered Gotham Academy.” Damian started his speech. “As such, I want to clear any and all confusion before it can start. This,” he motioned at Marinette, “ is my girlfriend. We met in Paris and clicked immediately. I expect you to show her the same respect you show my family or I will challenge you to an honor duel.” 

Damian was not even trying to hide his distaste for journalists today. He could see that Marinette was uncomfortable with this attention even more than he was. He grew up used to attention while simultaneously being taught that newspapers were at best a propaganda tool and at worst trouble to be dealt with. Obviously, he disliked them, even more, when he became Damian Wayne. Usually, he tried to remain civil to the journalists unless they were irritating. Today, he didn’t bother. Not that they didn’t know he was a private person. A certain paparazzi with a blade going through his camera would attest to that. 

“Angel, do you want to answer their questions or should I?” He whispered.

“Um… shouldn’t you first tell them more?” 

“No. It’s better if I only answer what they want to know.” 

“Um… Maybe you start.” 

“Fine.” He turned back to the microphone. “I will be taking the first question.” He pointed at Clark who had his hand in the air. 

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet. Could you tell us more about how you met?” 

“I joined Marinette’s class for the exchange program my Father mentioned. The only free seat was next to her, so that’s where I sat. What got my attention first was her willingness to stand up to injustice and forgive those who slighted her. She was open-minded and didn’t back down even when I was… Ehm… a bit rude.” He admitted. “I managed to ask her out and she showed me the side of Paris you don’t usually see with a tour guide. We share a passion for drawing and she shared with me her favorite place in Paris. No, I won’t reveal it. After that, my respect for her only grew when she was willing to accept an apology from a girl that bullied her in the past, helping her actually change her ways. Next question?” He pointed at a different journalist. He really hoped he picked right. The masks were making it harder than he assumed. A flaw in their plan that they overlooked. 

“Vicky Vale, Gotham Gazette” The woman introduced herself and Damian resisted the urge to curse. His Father’s ex was not exactly the most favorable toward them after their breakup, even if she tried to stay professional. “What more can you tell us about the mysterious girl behind the mask? So far we know she’s from Paris and likes to draw, plus some traits.”

“May I answer this?” Mari asked Damian, thinking it was high time for her to step up and help. He nodded and stepped back so she had free access to the microphone. “Hi. I'm Marinette. Mostly, I’m just a normal girl with a normal life…” She started. What followed was quite a long introduction where she gave the press enough to satisfy them while keeping private the parts she wanted.

There were many more questions. About family, plans, dreams, etc. The young couple answered some while dismissed others as too personal and rude. Finally, after over an hour they ended the event and told those who would stay to move on with the gala while several journalists were removed. In total, ten photographic devices were confiscated and Chloé got the honors of handling everything with Tim. He was there for a technical site, she was there for intimidation. 

One of the particularly irritating paparazzi tried to argue, but then Chloé started to rant until he was cowering in the corner. Pretty much everyone around them was now glaring at him with a hateful gaze. After that, they mostly behaved. 

-------

“Well… that was exhausting. And it’s only ten pm?” Marinette and Damian were resting next to the snacks table. They were enjoying a moment of peace once the initial wave of well-wishers passed. Jason was keeping an eye on the class to make sure they were stopped from making anything worse for themselves and everyone else. So far they were too stunned to deal with it. He was pleased to see that Alix girl was finally doing something and pointing out many flaws in their reasoning. The problem was Lila disappeared in the crowd for the moment. Chloé was on the hunt though. She was a master of dealing with a rich crowd, probably surpassing even Drake. 

“Here you are!” A voice startled the couple. Marinette and Damian turned to see a group of four people. Jon was one of them. There was also a girl with blonde hair pulled into a long braid and a boy in a blue suit with medium-long black hair and blue eyes. The fourth one made Marinette’s blood run cold. Her eyes went wide and she acted before anyone caught the wind of it. A strong straight punch sent the boy looking like Adrien flying onto the ground. 

Chatter around them died in an instant. Marinette tried to lunge at him, but Jon caught her. He was probably the only one strong enough to hold her back. 

“Let me go! Don’t you see he is a criminal?!” She was doing her best to get out of his grip. Damian suddenly was holding the blade to the neck of the blonde boy. 

“You have five seconds to speak.” 

“I’m sorry, but I’m not my moronic cousin. Would you please let go of me?” He asked with a thick British accent. 

“Tt. Prove it.” Damian scoffed. 

“Ugh. I’m really tired of dealing with everyone taking me for a criminal just because I look like him. Ask my mother!” 

Indeed, a blonde woman in a gray dress was making her way through the crowd. “Felix sweetie!?” She kneeled next to him while glaring daggers at Damian and Marinette. Reluctantly, he took away the sword but didn’t put it away. Dick and Tim also arrived.

“What happened?”

“That twit attacked my Felix!” 

“Tt. He shows up and looks just like a known criminal. You should’ve really chosen something other than a black mask and a black suit.” Damian frowned. He didn’t exactly feel bad about the incident, but the press would jump on that.

“It’s alright mum. I admit I’m partially at fault. I forgot the reaction Parisians have to me right now.” He bowed his head. “Please accept my apologies.” His lower lip was bleeding.

“Um… here. Let me help you.” Marinette pulled a tissue from her pocket (of course her dress had pockets) and handed it to him. Nodding, he wiped the blood. 

“Tt. I’m still not convinced.” 

“Damian! That’s rude. I remember Felix. He was in Paris once.” Then, she mumbled under her breath. “Caused a triple akumatization.”

“I am sorry for that…” 

“Felix joined our class this year. You left the day before he came.” The blonde girl explained.

“It was all just one big misunderstanding folks. You can move on.” Dick took control of the crowd and allowed the teens some breathing space. Except that’s when the class finally decided to start speaking up. 

“Yeah right! Marinette is just a big bully! I’m in her class and she was mean to Lila from the beginning. I wouldn’t be surprised if she dated Damian Wayne just for money.” Alya had to babble. The rest of the class (minus Alix) was either nodding or giving their own confessions, real or not, and always against Marinette. 

So far the Waynes avoided any accusations about gold-digging. The one journalist that tried to pick up the subject (subtly at first) was silenced by Damian’s evil eye. Now more people murmured. And the number of people able to respond was greatly limited as Damian, Chloé, Jason, and Sabine had to be restrained from hurting people. 

To everyone’s surprise, it was Cass who jumped on the table.

“Shut…! Up!” She shouted. Or what stood for her shouting, which was only slightly louder than normal people’s speech. Still, it got everyone’s attention. “Cousin Nettie is… kind. Good. Sel… Selfless. She is my family. Not… digger.” She glared at several people that were still muttering. “Saw her… date with Damian. She did not let him pay. Not digger!” There was a dangerous edge in her voice. That was enough to shut people up. Except for the class. 

“Of course you would protect her!” Kim stared at her. “You’re probably…” He didn’t finish because Alix covered his mouth. The girl noticed that Bruce, who was restraining Jason Todd was about to let go. She wasn’t sure exactly what would happen, but she wasn’t willing to find out. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave. Where is your teacher/chaperone?” Bruce asked, also glaring at them.

“Um… Madame Bustier is…”

“Madame Cheng is right there!” Mylene pointed to where Tom was doing his best to stop his wife from grabbing the Bag and cutting the class into tiny pieces.

“I… I don’t think it would be healthy for us to go with her right now. She is very emotional right now.” Alix offered. She was trying to act like the voice of reason. Something this class lacked. 

The teacher was quickly located flirting with one of the musicians invited to the gala. She was completely unaware of what her charges did. 

“I’m sure it was just some misunderstanding. Marinette indeed started acting out a bit this year. They probably overexaggerated a bit.”

“Tt. You mean she stopped being a doormat?” Damian huffed. 

“As I said, it’s time for the kids to leave,” Bruce said in a harsh tone. 

“Oh… Okay. I’m sure Sab…” 

“Caline. You’re the one responsible for taking care of them. You’ll take them away when Mr. Wayne asks.” Tom then pointed at his wife, who he was holding a few inches above the ground to keep her from doing something stupid. 

“Um… Of course.” The teacher sighed. “Kids. Gather your things. We must leave.” 

As they were walking out, people applauded. After Alfred closed the doors behind them it was finally safe to let the more violent part of the family free. In all that mess, nobody noticed that a certain sausage-haired girl was not with them

“Now, Wayne.” The blonde started. “Want to explain why we had to learn about you having a girlfriend from a press conference?”

“Or why did Jon know her before us?” The boy added. 

“I would also appreciate hearing how my bloody cousin earned your ire,” Felix added. 

“Oh! Sorry.” The girl turned to Marinette. “I’m Allegra and this is Claude. You already know Jon and Felix. We’re Damian’s friends. Or the closest thing he had to such.” 

“Tt. I don’t have friends.” 

“Bro. Not cool.” Claude argued.

“Shut up. Claudius.” he huffed. 

“You wound me.” The teen gasped and put a hand on his chest. “Dami.”

Felix and Marinette watched from the sidelines how the quartet bickered. Jon tried to help Damian sort things out. 

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” Felix said after a moment of silence. “My cousin is a daft git.” 

“That we can agree on,” Mari said absentmindedly while trying to keep the eye on Damian. She hoped he didn’t bring the kryptonite dusters tonight. 

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

Masterlist // Next

[ateezmakemeweep]

on one condition.

seonghwa x reader; a walk to remember au

word count: 19k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of death and terminal illness)

park seonghwa had always been a troubled boy. 

and not in the cheesy, cliche 'bad boy' way, like he's parading around town with a motorcycle and worn leather jacket. 

in the 'he has absolutely no regard for himself or others' type of way. he doesn't care if he hurts himself in an attempt to prove he's the best nor does he care if he hurts anybody with his words or fists.

this all started fairly early in his life, showing questionable behaviors at the ripe age of eleven.

it started with skipping classes, asking to go to the bathroom and then meeting his friend's outside on the field; there had never been a child sent to the principal's office as many times as him that year.

by middle school, it had quickly escalated. 

vandalizing obscene objects and words onto the bathroom stall or spray painting on the back of the school. he was intelligent though, both naturally book and street smart, so he knew to wear black attire and a mask; he was only almost caught once.

his last few years of high school now consist of women and fighting.

because if he wasn't pounding into the newest girl of the week, telling her that that was fun but she knows where the door is, he was smacking some kid's head off the pavement for no other reason than that he could. 

that he had such uncontrollable rage in his body, probably from being stuck with and accustomed to the delinquent ways of his friends, that it was the only thing to make him feel better.

because he couldn't deny it, he didn't like who he was.

you had always been a good girl. 

and quite literally in the cheesy, cliche way: sweaters and a nonexistent dating life and your nose always in a book if you weren't at the church your dad preached at every sunday.

you didn't mind your simple, solitary life. 

you had gotten used to being alone and you didn't ever care when people made fun of you for it. because you liked your sweaters and reading and even spending your days after school tutoring younger kids.

it was a place you went every monday through friday, accustomed to the children and other helpers, mainly teachers, that were in the stuffy school library. 

you were surprised to see none other than park seonghwa walk through the doors one afternoon, looking around at the layout of bookshelves and tables like it's the first time he's ever seeing it.

you tried not to watch him float around the room, a blank expression on his face as he settled for standing in front of the main desk waiting for instruction. he was leaned against the wood with his arms folded and jaw set, a very obvious distaste and annoyance present on the boy.

you continued to work with the younger 7th grader who couldn't quite grasp the concept of solving for x, ignoring the way the head teacher pranced over and spoke hushly to the boy.

"and what exactly are you doing here, mr. park?"

seonghwa felt dread fill him immediately, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the teacher who kicked him out of class everyday back in tenth grade.

"tutoring," is all he says, surprised and ready to punch the older man in the mouth when he lets out a scoff.

because apparently after your third strike for starting a brawl in the cafeteria, the only options were suspension or helping out the very understaffed, depressing after-school programs along with an extra research project.

"how long?" the boy asked the principal who sat across from him, a large man with kind eyes despite the destruction the student in front of him has brought into the school since the day he started.

"the rest of the year, mr. park."

seonghwa's eyebrow raised as he truly considered suspension. 

because at least that would only be two weeks of sleeping in and dicking around, not eight months of excruciating 'volunteer' work with bratty preteens and mundane class work. 

that's why he got up and went towards the doorway, throwing a mock wink at the man.

"i think i'll take the suspension, sir."

but the chipper man laughed like he was told the funniest joke he's ever heard, rising from his throne and walking over to pat seonghwa's shoulder. 

"you'll start on monday in the library."

and now he sees he severely underestimated just how tragic today was gonna be, sitting across from a boy who's just as pissed off as him about being here.

"what do you need help with?" seonghwa finally asks after five minutes of silence, leaning back in his chair as he observes the scrawny boy.  

"i don't know, i don't even need this stupid help," the younger boy snaps, the words already getting under seonghwa's skin. "they forced me to be here."

"well, that makes two of us," he mumbles, his eyes moving to the test paper sticking out of the boy's backpack marker with red x's. "but it seems like you do need help, kid. a 42 is shitty."

your eyes widen hearing those words fall from his mouth, clearing your throat and throwing him a chastising look when he meets your gaze; he only rolls them and moves his stare into the kid's beady, brown eyes.

"now don't waste my time and i won't waste yours. open your book," seonghwa demands, the coldness in his tone visibly throwing off the boy.

you feel your heart grow heavy at the student's dejected, frustrated face, your chest burning with the need to yell at and scold seonghwa.

because that's the last way to approach a child already struggling and getting in trouble by his teachers and parents. 

he needs to be shown the problem in different ways until he finds out which one works for him and that's through someone's patience, kindness and genuine desire to help them - which is exactly what you tell seonghwa when 4:30 rolls around.

"thanks for the advice, y/n, but i think i'll be getting this shit over with my own way," he says, glaring at you before he attempts to leave.

you're quick to squeak out "wait," walking around until you're standing in front of him.

"look, i know you probably don't wanna be here," you tell him softly, gently, like the way you talk to kids who also don't wanna be doing work they don't understand. "but you can't take it out on them. you need to at least be nice and try to help him not only pass but also understand it. that's the whole-"

"I could give a shit if the kid passes or not," he snaps at you, pinched glare roaming over your face. "we're all not perfect little angels like you, y/n."

he's known you since elementary school, has watched you parade around with ugly sweaters and books and entertain the kids people avoid because they either spit on you when they talk or go on for hours about nonsense.

some people might find that commendable, that you give everyone a chance and seem to be completely pure and good, but he finds it incredibly irritating - he always had, watching you grow up through the years and feeling some sense of pity for you. 

because no one could genuinely be that kind and unbothered by the fact that they have no friends. that they smile in the faces of their bullies and give even the weirdest of kids the time of day.

"that's not why i'm saying it, seonghwa," you tell him softly. "i just want you to take this seriously. these kids need help."

"they need help when you're the one tutoring kids for fun," seonghwa scoffs, feeling himself grow more agitated and bitter as he talks down to you. "i don't know if you realize how sad that is."

but then in a strange twist of fate, it feels like you're the one talking down to him. because you can only find it in you to shake your head at him and meet his tense gaze.

"more sad than you needing to be forced to help anyone but yourself?"

whether he wants to admit it or not, your comment rings in his head for the rest of the day. he knows he's selfish and a bit of a dick but hearing it put so bluntly to his face causes his chest to churn uncomfortably.

"what does that bitch know anyway?" hongjoong coughs out after passing him a joint. "she's been a tight ass since birth."

"and it's only gotten worse with age," san says before he lets out a thoughtful hum. "but you know... she'd probably be hot if she wasn't such a prude."

the two boys in front throw him a disgusted look, seonghwa blowing smoke directly in the boy's face. 

"you're that desperate for a fuck, huh?"

san swats at the smoke around his face, rolling his eyes at his friends glassy, red eyes. 

"no! i'm just saying."

seonghwa can only picture you in his mind, sporting your ugly green sweater and worn sneakers, bare face looking at him with wide, innocent eyes and softly spoken words.

"don't see it," the boy grumbles out, hongjoong snorting next to him as he reaches out to grab the joint back.

"you know he could be on to something though," the driver says, placing the paper between his lips. "it's always the quiet ones who are freaks."

"ha, like you'd know pussy boy," san says, earning a loud smack on his mouth. 

seonghwa can only smirk at his two friends, knowing damn well you're the type of girl who's probably gonna die a virgin.

"so what do you know about acute triangles?" seonghwa asks the boy, clenching his fists under the table because how fucking hard is it to remember this?

he'd been working with him for almost two weeks now and he's been slowly making progress. 

some would say that the improvement in itself was a good sign but seonghwa was convinced if the boy had someone more cut out for this, he would've learned it by now.

he wouldn't be staring down at the blank paper with a questioning gaze on his face or religiously spend the first thirty minutes in a tense silence.

"there are....three angles," the boy says, uncertainty laced in his tone; seonghwa can only nod his head because wow, yeah, good job.

"okay. and what about them?"

the boy swallows nervously, eyes boring in to his like he's gonna help him out - he only stares back blankly, raising his eyebrow challengingly. 

and once the student sees that, remembers seonghwa's harshly spoken words reminding him to pay attention in class so they can both stop this bullshit, he blurts out "i don't know!"

seonghwa lets out a sigh, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head. the boy lets out a loud, frustrated groan, throwing his pencil across the room and springing up from his chair.

"fuck this! this is so stupid!"

you watch as seonghwa just stares at the boy with a raised eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest and you just know he's trying not to roll his eyes or scream back. 

before the man can say anything 'comforting' back, the younger student stomps off and rips open the library door.

several other kids softly murmur to each other before they get back to work, your eyes moving to seonghwa who hasn't uncrossed his arms. you quietly tell the student you're working with to try the next problem by themselves, walking over to seonghwa and taking the previously occupied seat.

"he's just frustrated," you tell him softly, hoping to ease the obvious tension on seonghwa's face and body. 

you had trouble when you first started too, remember feeling dejected and upset that the kids would get mad, and thinking that you couldn't help them.

his eyes flicker to meet yours but he's quick to look away, seeing the soft compassion and care in them; it always makes him uncomfortable when someone doesn't look at him in disgust or annoyance.

"what do you want from me?"

he misses your face fall ever so slightly, a quiet sigh leaving your mouth as you shrug your shoulders. 

"i just wanna help you, seonghwa," you tell him softly, knowing it's important for both of them to get something out of this. "it might help teaching him in a different way. maybe something he can relate to more."

"and how do you recommend i do that, princess?" he snarls at you, shoving his seat back and stomping towards the exit. 

you notice the head teacher's about to say something when you catch his gaze and shake your head slowly; to your surprise, he lets the boy go with a simple roll of his eyes.

you continue working with your student until 4:30 rolls around, your eyes occasionally moving to the empty table and library door. neither seonghwa nor his student ever came back and it causes a sinking feeling in your stomach.

you wait around for five extra minutes, cleaning the tables and putting your books away before figuring both of the unmotivated boys just ditched. as you're walking out the door to your car, you hear the familiar sound of a basketball bouncing off the gym floor.

so, albeit nosily, you peek your head in and feel your lips quirk up when you see seonghwa's tall frame next to the boy. the two of them are standing a few feet away from the hoop, a rare hint of a smile on the man's face as the both of them move around the floor.

"so this would be a....?" you hear seonghwa ask, the boy immediately responding with "acute angle! and it's less than 90 degrees," who then proceeds to take the ball from him and shoot; in a tragic turn of events, he misses.

seonghwa lets out a playful scoff as he catches the ball with ease.

"used all your brain power for that you can't even get it in, huh?" he teases, throwing the ball with one hand and watching with a cocky smirk as it shoots through.

"you're a showoff," the boy mumbles and you bite your lip so you don't let out a giggle, watching as seonghwa dribbles the ball away from the boy who chases after him. 

you leave the gym as chuckles ring through the air, feeling your heart tug at the fact in all the years you've known seonghwa, you think that’s the first time you've heard him laugh.

you're surprised to see his good mood carries over into the next day. 

sure, he's not being overly happy or nice but he's genuinely helping the student with his work, a focused expression and strong voice as he explains the problems slowly. 

you try to contain your smile, thinking maybe your hope in him isn't misplaced until you decide to tell him he's doing a good job.

"what?"

"you're working well with him," you say softly, turning to wave at the boy when you hear him say goodbye to you both. "he really seems to be getting better."

"yeah," is all he says, tone clipped and short. 

you look over to see his jaw is tight, body defensive and on alert so it's probably in your best interest to not mention you seeing them in the gym yesterday.

"it's hard at first for everyone,” you continue encouragingly. “but then i think once you break that barrier, it's gonna get-"

"why are you talking to me, y/n?"

his short, harsh tone causes your face to fall and for a split second, he feels bad. 

he knows you're just doing what you always do, showing people unwavering decency and kindness, but those are things he, both, can't relate to and finds makes him uncomfortable. 

he doesn’t want you to think just because he helped one kid out that means he's a reformed pupil.

"i just wanted to-"

"well don't," he says, picking up his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. "it's bad enough i have to do this. i don't need you talking down to me also."

"i'm not talking down to you/ it's called encouragement, seonghwa."

"then don't encourage me. just ignore me the way i intend to ignore you." 

you're left alone in the library watching the door slam behind him.

and true to his word, he doesn't look your way or entertain conversation with you for the rest of the week. anytime your eyes meet, he'd quickly advert them and makes sure to be out the door the second the clock strikes 4:30.

and today, as you rush to your car in the pouring rain, you mull over in your head what you could have possibly done to the boy to make him so wary of you. 

time and time again, you've just tried to help him. give him advice and make the whole process easier for him but he just lashes out.

then again, you haven't done anything to the general population at school and they still make fun of you. and it's for the stupidest of things: your 'grandma sweaters' apparently the bane of their existence or the fact that you're studious and care about your schoolwork.

you don't allow their words to get to you, though, because you were taught to always be kind and respect others. that if people are mean to you, it's because they're unhappy about something within themselves.

even so, a part of you has always been intrigued by park seonghwa, whether it be because of his obvious good looks or some feeling deep within you that knows he's not as bad as he portrays himself to be. 

through the rain as you think, you see the drenched boy, hood up and head down, as he walks on the sidewalk.

you don’t even think twice about pulling up next to him, roll down your window and ignore the way he side-eyes you.

"do you want a ride?" you ask him quietly, surprised he's even heard you over the roar of the rain; but he's quick to shake his head silently and continue on his way. 

you let out a sigh before following behind him, asking him one more time because he really is drenched and it's starting to get dark and cold.

"you're gonna get sick," you say to him, causing the boy to stop in his tracks and stare you down.

"and what does that matter to you?"

you only raise your eyebrow at him, reaching over to open the door and smiling softly as an invitation. he rolls his eyes as he huffs, looking down at his drenched sneakers and feeling it seep into his socks.

some part deep within him feels ashamed to accept your kindness after the way he's treated you but he gets in and slams the door anyway. a real stand up guy he is.

"happy?" he grumbles. 

you only smirk as you hum softly, eyes peering down to the seatbelt buckle before going back to the road. you feel his gaze on you as you drive, a loud huff leaving him after you stop at the third stop sign.

"what?" you ask, looking both ways before taking your foot off the break.

"how the hell do you get anywhere," he grunts out in annoyance, feeling around in his pocket for a cigarette and agitated when he finds he doesn't have a pack on him.

"it appears i drive like a grandmother, too," you mumble, a snort leaving his nose as he shakes his head.

a few moments of silence pass before you stop at a red light. 

"i don't get you," he suddenly says, causing you to look over at him.

"what do you mean?"

"you really just... don't care about what other people think of you?"

you can't help but smile at the puzzled expression on his face, shrugging your shoulders as you look at him. 

"no."

his eyebrow raises, something about your soft, small smile causing him to squirm in his seat. 

"why not?"

"because why do they matter?" you ask quietly. "while i can, i'm gonna live the way i want."

a quiet hum leaves the boy's mouth, at the time not realizing how strange that sentence was coming from a teenage girl.

he just couldn't understand how a young person would want to live such a sad, quiet life between the covers of books and walls of church. how someone could go on smiling and being happy when they had no friends to make memories with.

"seems like a sad way to live," is all he finds himself saying, a smirk playing at your lips as your brain quips back with a sassy comment - but because you're you, your mouth doesn't open to respond. 

you simply shrug your shoulders again, looking back at the light just as it turns green.

the rest of the ride is silent as you make your way to seonghwa's, asking him a few times for directions until your car is sitting in front of his house.

"thanks, y/n."

"you're welcome, seonghwa."

he turns to you to see your gaze already on him, his eyes narrowing at you ever so slightly. you send him a small, innocent, almost unsure smile and he feels himself grow less guarded.

"i'll see you monday?" you ask, slightly uncomfortable by the silence as you two just look at each other with uncertainty. 

the boy next to you shakes himself out of his daze, stuttering out "y-yeah.”

he slams your door shut, not hearing your car pull away until he opens the door to his house.

after your tutoring session, you stayed behind at 4:30 to make a study guide for your student and expected to be the only one there - which is why you were surprised to hear footsteps coming your way and even more surprised when you met the familiar dark eyes of-

"seonghwa," you say as you put your pen down on the table. "what're you still doing here?"

"i could ask you the same thing," he says, peeking at the paper before taking the seat across from you.

that's when you knew he was about to ask for something, like a pardon from this 'stupid volunteer work' (as if you have the authority to do that) or to cover for him one day this week so he can go do whatever normal destruction he does on the weekdays.

because in all the years you've known park seonghwa, he has never initiated a conversation with you.

"i'm making a study guide for my student," you tell him. "she's still having a bit of trouble so i'm hoping this will help her."

he nods his head at you, resting his elbows on the table as he watches you write with concentration for a few silent minutes. 

"but i know you don't care about that," you say to him quietly before meeting his intense gaze. "so why are you here?"

he lets out a sigh, running his hand through his hair that seems to be out of nervousness - but in what kind of sick, confused world is a man like him nervous to talk to a girl like you?

"i need your help with something."

your eyebrow raises as you look at him, dropping your pen on the table and the noise echoes through the quiet, empty library.

"is... park seonghwa asking for my help?"

he rolls his eyes before blankly staring at you, the dead look in his eye causing you to giggle softly. 

"what do you need help with?"

your giggle and soft tone relax him ever so slightly, popping his neck to the side and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatics. 

"i'm- uh, i'm supposed to write a play for my class."

"okay..." you say as you nod your head. "and you need help...writing it? editing it? coming up with ideas?"

his mind starts to swarm with slight panic and uncertainty, completely out of his element and comfort zone. he doesn't know the first thing about writing fucking plays, you couldn't pay him enough money to even sit through one.

"uh...all of it," he says with a wince. "but i know you're like... a theater geek."

you can't help the snort that leaves you, shaking your head as you look at the boy in front of you. 

"a theater geek?"

"not like that," he says, tone desperate and unsure and you can hear how uncomfortable he is asking for help. "i just mean like you're probably...good at that stuff."

"ahh, because i'm a big fat nerd, right?"

his eyes close at the horrific turn this has taken; he can't even ask you for help without insulting you. 

"i didn't mean it like that, y/n."

you watch him for a few moments, hands in his hair as his leg starts to bounce and you decide to finally put him out of his misery. 

“i'm just kidding. i'll help you."

his head snaps up immediately, face once ridden by anxiety and panic full of surprise and relief. "really?!"

"really," you say with a smile. "but i'm only gonna assist you. you have to do most of it, okay?"

"yeah, right, of course," he grunts out, already bored and over this conversation.

"and you have to take it seriously. on the days we do it, you're gonna have to be focused, seonghwa."

"i wouldn't have put myself through this and asked you if i wasn't gonna take it seriously," he grumbles, watching you furrow your eyebrows at him and quickly realizing he's falling into his dick-ish ways before mumbling out an apology. 

"i mean, of course, yeah."

"thank yo-," he says before you cut him off.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly.  he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart; but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

everything in him stills as he looks at you, trying to figure out if you're joking with him until he sees how seriously you're looking at him. he almost feels bad at the blatant laugh that bubbles out of him, his hand coming up to (fakely) wipe his mouth.

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem," he says, humor and amusement heavy in his tone. it doesn't make you feel bad because you just nod your head and shrug your shoulders.

"okay!"

"okay," he says a few seconds later, a small grateful smile on his face. "thank you, y/n."

"you're welcome."

you can't help but smile back because it really seems as if he's trying to better himself now. 

apply himself more and show people that he's more than just some 'cool' guy who gets in trouble. he asked for help and that's the first step in anything required to get better and grow as person.

but sometimes people will ask for help, receive help, and it still won't be enough. 

because just the next day, you see him in the cafeteria with his group of friends. and perhaps it was ballsy of you in the first place to see him and hold his eye contact and greet him with a smile that only led him to divert his gaze.

that should've made it obvious that going over to him was not gonna be a good idea.

but you thought you were seeing a change in him, you were so excited to see him work with the students and take an initiative to do his project, so you walk over and say hi to him.

"hi, seonghwa," you say sweetly, waving at his friends who just look at you with a bewildered expression. "do you wanna start working on your play after tutoring today?"

the second him and his friends let out sarcastic laughs, you know he's about to disappoint you.

"i think you're lost, princess," he says, tone full of venom and spite. "we'd never do anything together."

"unless, of course, you're willing to show him what's under that sweater," his friend next to him says, his eyes roaming over your body and making you back up uncomfortably.

"hongjoong," the tallest one says warningly, like he's probably the only good one within this group.

"oh fuck off yunho, she needs a little fun."

your eyes never leave seonghwa's, the tight, hard look melting slightly since his bickering friends are now distracted. the change in them doesn't make you feel any better, instead nodding your head at him and quietly saying "okay, never mind then. sorry."

the fact that you apologize makes him feel like a piece of shit for the rest of the day, even caused him to lash out at hongjoong for saying that pervy comment to you and then get kicked out of his last class.

which is how he catches you right before tutoring starts at 3:15, grabbing you by the elbow and ushering you into the tiny computer lab against your softly-spoken protests. 

he closes the door behind him and turns to see you staring at him blankly.

"just hear me out, y/n."

"i don't think there's anything to hear out," you tell him softly. "you made it obvious you don't need my help anymore."

you're about to go around him when he grabs your arm again, your body stiffening immediately causing him to let go. 

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't...i shouldn't have done that."

it's like the fact that he knows it was wrong is making it worse. he knew it would hurt you and make him look bad but he did it anyway to prove a point to his friends.

"but you did," you say quietly. "and i know you don't care, seonghwa, but i really thought you were trying to be better."

he lets out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance; he really knows how to fuck things up.

"i was. i am. that's why i need your help. please y/n."

a group of kids come barreling through, the girl you're working with catching your eye as she takes a seat at the normal table. you meet seonghwa's gaze that's staring down at you, eyes regretful and tense.

you know it's only because now he's not getting something out of you, not because he genuinely cares about you being upset and disappointed.

"the drama teacher is really nice," you tell him softly, sending him a small smile as you tighten your bag around your shoulder. "you could probably sit in with her and get some pointers."

"but i wanted you to-"

he can't even finish his sentence when you move passed him and out the door, his body whirling around to see you wave at the curious younger girl. 

he watches you meet his gaze once more before they flicker back down to the table, your heart sinking every so slightly because you were stupid to think he was capable of changing.

seonghwa was shocked by how much it annoyed him that you were ignoring him. 

that anytime he tried to get your attention, you would just smile dismissively and busy yourself. that you no longer lingered at the end of the day or gave him words of praise and encouragement that used to piss him off so badly.

it, oddly enough, made the next few weeks drag on even longer, his afternoons now an even more dull and dreary experience.

that's why on friday, purely out of selfishness, he ended his session with the boy five minutes early and waited outside the library like some sort of creep; if this was the only way to talk to you, it appeared he was gonna do it.

you open the door to leave, fishing through your backpack for the keys buried at the bottom, and look up just in time so you don't smack right into seonghwa's large frame.

"hi."

you narrow your eyes at him, his body and face lacking its usual confidence and smugness.

"hi."

the two of you just look at one another, your eyes confused and awaiting while his hold a twinge of insecurity and nervousness.

you had been making it a point to steer clear of him these past weeks, dodging him in the hallways and cafeteria when you noticed him and completely avoiding his presence during tutoring.

"are you gonna make me beg?"

your eyebrows shoot up at his lowly spoken words, head turning to the side in confusion. 

"what?"

"i miss your stupid encouragement, okay," he blurts out suddenly. "and i miss talking to you. i want...i want you to help me with my play."

you let out a shaky exhale, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to gauge his mood. he could just be saying all of this to get what he wants and make his life easier.

"what's wrong with the drama teacher?" you ask him. "she's nice. i'll even ask her if you can-”

"she's not you."

you swallow the lump in your throat at his words, panicking slightly at how your heart and stomach just reacted; you should not be so effected by him after the way he's treated you.

"that's kind of the point," you tell him, voice strong despite the way you're shaking inside. "it seems as if that's what you wanted the other week."

he lets out an annoyed huff, taking a few steps closer to you and looking straight at you. 

"that was wrong and i'm sorry, y/n, i am," he says to you, watching your gaze soften as he all but begs you. "but i'm trying here. and i need your help."

you truly take the time to assess him, look him up and down to gauge if he really is trying -  you suppose you won't really be able to tell until you start working with him though. 

and you can't ignore the fact that, no matter how he's treated you or anyone else, he's here and genuine and asking for help again.

a sigh leaves your mouth as you shake your head at him, cursing the fact that's he's not only handsome but persuasive (or at least sly enough to pick the right victims that can't say no to helping people).

the silence that stretches between you two makes him ready to jump out of his skin, not knowing at all what to make of your flickering eyes and blank expression.

he nearly topples over when you mutter out “fine. but all the same conditions still apply, seonghwa. even if you're...embarrassed to be seen with me, we still have to do the work and-"

"i'm not embarrassed," he's quick to clarify, your eyebrow shooting up at his blatant lie. "i'm not," he repeats.

you shake your head at him before taking out your car keys and swirling them around your finger. 

"well, whatever, it doesn't even matter," you tell him quietly. "just get ready to start working next week, okay?"

the boy nods, thanking you one more time and feeling a twinge in his chest when you smile back and send him a little wave. 

he didn't expect to feel so much lighter after the conversation, no longer having a pit in his stomach or hearing that small voice in the back of his head scream at him.

but because he's not completely reformed, he distracts himself with one of the many girls interested in him or with his friends as they smoke and drive around their boring little town.

the boring little town that has an eerie little cemetery just a few blocks from his house.

most days when he walks home, he goes the opposite way because there's something very unsettling to him about death and dying and mourning. he hadn't dealt with any loss in his life properly, going off the rails when his dad left and then again with alcohol and drugs when his grandpa died.

he was actually buried right in that cemetery and for whatever reason that sunday night, something was telling him to pass by and visit.

he turns the corner and catches the sight of your hair, stopping in his tracks to watch as you open the old, iron gate and walk right in the dark cemetery alone.

"what are you doing," he mumbles curiously to himself, his interest fully peaked as he speeds up his footsteps to follow after you.

he watches you weave in and out of the headstones, backpack in one hand and blanket in the other as you stand in front of a tombstone and bow your head to pray.

if anything makes him more uncomfortable than death, it's religion. 

maybe because he's not sure himself what or who he believes in, fascinated by people who can fully put all of their faith in something that has no proof. 

regardless, he waits until you raise your head and lay out your blanket, placing a few books down next to you as you sit criss-cross style in front of the tombstone.

"so this is how you live on the edge huh? sneaking around a cemetery at night."

you jump at the teasing, deep voice, snapping your head to the side and smiling slightly at the sight of seonghwa. 

he's dressed in his usual all black, a sliver chain hanging from his neck and a beanie over his dark hair - devastatingly handsome, per usual.

"no sneaking," you tell him. "but that's you, apparently. i didn't even hear you come in."

he shrugs his shoulders as he sticks his hands in his pockets, eyes curiously taking in his surroundings. you watch him look around the cemetery with slight discomfort, his eyes focused on the back corner where a large oak tree stands.

"so were you actually following me?" you ask him, causing him to rip his gaze and look down at you. "or are you here to see someone?"

a few beats of silence pass before he answers.

"would it be weird to admit i followed you?"

a smile covers your face, teeth in your bottom lip as you try to contain a laugh. 

"not much weirder than me spending my sunday night in a cemetery, i suppose."

a short, deep chuckle leaves his mouth as he rocks on his feet, looking down at his boots so you don't see his own smile forming. 

"guess that's true,” he mutters lowly but you’re able to somehow catch it. he looks up when he hears your hand tapping on the blanket-covered ground. 

"you can sit, if you want."

for whatever reason, he accepts the invitation immediately. he keeps a good distance between the both of you, his butt just hanging off the edge as he can't help but stare at the headstone in front of him.

he wouldn't dare ask about it because how can he just so casually ask which dead relative of yours you're sitting in front of?

"my mom," you say quietly, because it's hard not to know what he's thinking. "she died giving birth to me."

his eyes widen at your confession, a low curse leaving his mouth. 

"shit."

you nod your head, placing your chin on your hand as you look at the death date. 

"yeah. it's always a little weird to see my birthday as the day she died."

seonghwa watches your face as you look at the tombstone, surprised not to see sadness or sorrow but the same look of compassion and pureness that always seems to be on your face. 

and now with the glow of the moon on you, he's realizing that you are kind of pretty. in a unique, natural way but pretty nonetheless.

if he thought he was surprised to be thinking these thoughts at a moment like this, he's even more surprised when he finds himself asking, "why do you come here then?"

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, it’s also something that some get uncomfortable with or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. you don’t want him to misconstrue your gaze on him so you quickly look back at the grave as you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll just read."

he nods his head again, looking over at the grave and wondering how much this piece of stone has heard about your life.

do you tell it how people treat you at school? how much you volunteer your time to help others and make them better? maybe even how you've been trying to help him but might see him as a lost cause.

he hears the sound of a paper rustling and turns his head to see you, pen in hand, scribbling down something on your book; even though it's nosy and intrusive, he peaks over out of curiosity.

"bucket list?" he asks aloud. 

a smirk pulls at your lips as you nod your head silently, scribbling down a #4 on the page.  "do you have one?" you ask him quietly, meeting his eyes that are boring into the side of your face.

"can't say i do," he hum, "although i definitely have a lot of stuff i wanna do."

"like what?" you ask, trying not to show just how interested you are in finally getting to know something about this elusive boy. it falls flat when you see him lower his head and shrug his shoulders, immediately closing himself back up.

"i don't know," he mumbles, suddenly feeling embarrassed and on the spot.

you let out a small giggle, turning the page and ripping out a piece of paper before handing it to him. he looks down in surprise before taking it from your hands, your fingertips brushing and he can't help but notice how cold your skin is.

"writing it down might help."

you place the pen in between you both, letting the book lie on your lap as you lean back on your hands; his eyes can't help but fall down to peak at the page.

"fall in love, get married, see the ocean," you hear his deep voice read before he sees ".....get a tattoo?!" he asks, voice raising slightly as he looks at you in surprise.

"is that so hard to believe?" you ask, a mock expression of hurt on your face. he chuckles trying to picture you with a sleeve of tattoos, your pastel pink sweater rolled up your arms and showcasing an array of colors.

"kind of, yeah," he laughs out, smiling when your own giggles rings through the cold night air.

"why do you even have one though?" he asks a few moments later, trying to distract himself from the way your giggle just made his heart swell. 

"don't only people who are like..." he cringes as he remembers you are both sitting surrounding by corpses. "don't you only make these when you're gonna die? get news that you have like a year left to live or something?"

and just like in the car that day, he doesn't think about how sadly cryptic your answer is. how odd the dreary words sound coming from the mouth of a high school girl whose only cares should be about prom or college acceptance letters.

"i could only have a year left to live," you tell him softly. "i could even only have a month left. you never really know, do you?"

he can only nod his head, furrowing his eyebrows because while your words ring true. 

"that's pretty fucking morbid, y/n."

a small chuckle leaves your mouth at his profanity, shrugging your shoulders as you turn around to look at him. 

"i guess but it's true though," you say, moving your hands side to side like you're showcasing a house and not a cemetery full of rotting bodies. "after all, look around."

a loud, surprised laugh leaves seonghwa's mouth as he looks at you, shaking his head half in amusement and half in astonishment - he’s never met anyone like you in his life.

"good point," he says, biting down on his lips desperate to quirk up into a large grin.

it's an odd place and time to spend the rest of the night sharing shy smiles and glances but it happens nonetheless.

by the end of the night, you're both convinced of something: you only further confirming your suspicions that this boy is so much more than the person he portrays himself to be and seonghwa thinking that maybe grandma sweaters and bucket lists aren't that bad after all.

the more you talked and spent time with seonghwa, the more you saw how great he was. 

you figured that night at the cemetery was a fluke, that if you ever dared mentioning it or tried to make it happen again he’d laugh in your face or feign confusion. 

so the surprise that ran through you when, at lunch, he plopped down in the seat across from you was truly overwhelming. you had looked side to side in confusion, thinking that maybe his friends all went out or that your budding friendship was all one big practical joke.

but his friends looked just as confused, eyebrows pinched together as they whispered and hit one another.

“your friend’s look confused,” you say quietly. “you should probably go back.” 

but without missing a beat, he just shrugs and takes out a tattered black notebook.

“fuck them.”

your eyes widen at his vulgarity, watching him with a curious, slightly cautious gaze before it softens as he meets your eyes. he holds out his book for you, a shy smile appearing on his face.

“i...wrote some of the beginning last night. do you wanna read it?”

the smile that lights up your face has that familiar twinge in his heart appearing, excitedly nodding as your fingertips brush when you take it. 

“the prologue,” you correct him gently as you read his opening lines. 

“the what?” he asks. 

a little giggle leaves your mouth as you continue to read, missing the way his eyes soften as he looks at you with admiration - but his friends don’t miss it. 

don’t miss the way he chooses to sit with you everyday for the next few weeks, the way your hands brush as you make edits on your paper and the way his eyes never leave you as you read over his corrections. 

“i’m gonna ask you straight up,” mingi asks when he’s over seonghwa’s one night. “what’s going on with you and church girl?”

the boy can only look up from his notebook, shaking out his aching hand as he raises his eyebrow at the boy. 

“what?” 

the taller boy can only roll his eyes, going over to the open window as he lights a cigarette. 

“you like her.”

“mingi...” seonghwa says warningly, not wanting to get into this right now; they’d been giving him shit every chance they got, poking fun at his newfound desire to succeed in school.

“i’m not giving you shit, i just wanna know,” the boy says, “because it seems pretty obvious.”

seonghwa rests his feet on his desk as he looks over at the boy, letting out a sigh when he sees how genuine and indifferent he looks. 

“i might,” he says because it’s a fact he’s been mulling over since that night at the cemetery. 

ever since then, he’s been overwhelmingly eager to see you and please you. 

he keeps wanting to show you time and time again that he’s capable of doing this work and tutoring the kids. keeps wanting to see that happy smile that lights up your face or your soft voice squealing about how good his play is coming along.

“you might,” mingi laughs out, blowing smoke out the window as he shakes his head. “you absolutely do.” 

“i’m gonna push you out that fucking window,” seonghwa grunts, a smirk crossing the boy’s face as he shakes his head.

“that’s not very holy of you,” his friend says, sarcasm and teasing in his tone. “what ever would y/n say if she found out you-” 

mingi’s words are quickly cut off by high-pitched yells as he watches a cup of pencils and pens go hurling towards him. 

and whether it be a twist of fate or just pleasant circumstances, tutoring sessions on one friday afternoon are cancelled for construction in the library. 

the both of you look at one another and somehow know it’s mutually decided that you’re gonna work elsewhere, even though it’s friday and there’s a party going on at his friend san’s house.

“we only have to work for an hour,” you tell him as you guys step outside the school. “i know there’s a party tonight.”

“do you wanna come with me?” he blurts out before he can even stop himself, shocking the both of you. 

the boy would laugh at the terrified, wide-eyed expression on your face if he wasn’t so thrown off by how quickly and impulsively he asked that. 

“i...uh...don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say quietly, eyes trained on the floor shyly. you nearly fall right down when you feel his hand on your jaw, lifting your face so your glossy, nervous eyes meet his.

“nobody would mess with you if i was there,” he says lowly, the protective, confident words causing you to swallow nervously. you only shake your head slightly, the feeling of his hand on your face so foreign and bare-minimum but sending your heart into overdrive. 

“it’s not that, i’m just... i wouldn’t do well there.”

i wouldn’t be allowed.

his eyes search yours for any hint of a lie, that maybe you actually wanna go but fear that stupid girls or guys would make fun of you for whatever idiotic reason they can think of tonight. 

your small smile assures him even further.

“i probably wouldn’t do well there tonight, either then,” he says, your eyebrows furrowing as you look at his eyes shining with certainty. you’re about to ask him to clarify when he removes his hold on your face, taking your smaller hand in his cautiously.

“what are you-”

“you drive here today?” he asks and you can only find it in you to shake your head. 

“we’ll walk to my house then?” 

you stare blankly at him before looking down at your intertwined hands, feeling a blush creep on your face as you’re successfully rendered speechless. 

you hadn’t really know what to expect or feel holding someone’s hand but it definitely wasn’t this feeling of closeness and warmth and excitement. 

when you look up and he sees the pinkness on your cheeks, he can’t help but smile. 

seonghwa looks down at you questioningly, raising his eyebrow and looking at you until you stutter out “ye-yeah that’s..good.” he intertwines your fingers and pulls you along the sidewalk, holding your hand and occasionally looking down at you the entire way to his house. 

he ends up missing the party that night in exchange for writing, editing and playfully rehearsing his lines with you. his chuckle fills the room when you dramatically read his lines, giggles leaving your mouth when he cringes at the fact he wrote some of this dialogue. 

he drove you home after the sun had set, your hands intertwined as they rest on the console. shy gazes and quiet giggles fill the car, your softly spoken “goodnight seonghwa,” ringing through his head for the rest of the night. 

and then much to his dismay, after three months of preparation and work with you, his play was due. 

you had worked together in the library one last time, your encouragement and assurance that he would absolutely get an a filling the boy with an unfamiliar feeling of pride and excitement. 

he had worked hard, you both had worked hard, and he’d never been so excited to hand in an assignment in his life; it all had paid off because he was able to showcase a big, 100% to you in red ink.

“seonghwa!” you squeal, clapping your hands in the empty library and throwing your arms around him without a second thought. “i told you you were gonna do amazing!”

he can’t even think about your words with your arms around him, the feeling of your body against him the final confirmation for him that he 100% absolutely likes you (as mingi so juvenilely put).

you feel his body stiffen and realize what you’ve done, quickly drawing your arms back and flushing as you quietly apologize. 

but just as the words leave, his arms are around you and your head rests on his chest. once you’ve recovered from the shock, you allow your own arms to slowly go back around him, the two of standing in the empty library wrapped in each other’s arms. 

it’s a strangely intimate hug for just a good grade on a paper, your arms tight and hearts pounding as you feeling a buzzing in the air changing everything you’ve worked to build over these past months. 

“do one more thing for me, y/n?” you hear him lowly ask in your ear. 

you meet his gaze nervously, biting your lip as you stare at him with a wide-eyed gaze. “what?” you squeak, your voice barely coming out. 

“let me take you on a date.”

convincing your father to allow you on a date was one thing but convincing your father to allow you on a date with park seonghwa was damn near impossible. 

“dad,” you whine for the twentieth time that day.

“y/n, i’m telling you, i’m not comfortable with this.”

“you’re not even giving him a chance, dad,” you tell him softly at the table, your eyes trained on the clock that reads 6:50. “he’s gonna be here in ten minutes.”

whether your dad approved or not, you were going on this date. 

you had gone your whole life without dating or boys or even having a crush and now you were overwhelming ready to try it out. despite your nervousness and despite the fact you have absolutely no experience, you’re excited.

seonghwa has brought out something in you that was suppressed for so long, that you only read about in books or watched in other couples - now with your shy smiles and intertwined hands under the table at lunch, you’re convinced that he’s your first love. 

“y/n, i’m uncomfortable with this for more than one reason,” he says, sadness and apprehension in his tone; it makes your heart sink a little bit. 

why does he have to bring this up now? why can’t he just let you have one night to be a normal teenager?

“why, dad?” you ask, voice far too even and calm even though you already know where this is headed. he can tell too, because he grabs your hand from across the table and squeezes it apologetically. 

“i’m not trying to upset you,” he says, “i just don’t know if you should start something when...”

“i’m fine though. i feel fine.” 

his face turns into one of shock and confusion, not once hearing you snap at him; that’s when he notices that you look...different. 

a short-sleeved dress over your figure with a hint of blush and mascara on your face. your eyes flickering to the clock and door before back to him and he feels his heart pull in his chest. 

“i know you do,” he says, pulling his hand back and running it through his thinning hair. “you didn’t tell him, did you?”

“of course not,” you quickly get out. “there’s no need to tell him.”

“no need to-” the words die in his throat so he doesn’t start a fight or upset you just minutes before your first date. 

he knows that if you actually accepted to go out with a boy, you have to like him and there has to be some sort of...connection between the two of you. 

“what if this gets more serious?”

a knock at the door causes you both to jump, your neck snapping over to see seonghwa’s handsome face through the window. 

“then we’ll deal with that when it comes,” you tell him, voice serious and hushed. “just... please be nice, okay? he’s important.”

and with that, your dad watches you open the door and greet seonghwa with a smile, ushering him in as you giggle when he says something lowly. you drag him over by the hand, seonghwa and your dad standing only a few inches away from one another a sight you’d truly thought you’d never see.

“hi sir,” seonghwa says, his voice deep but friendly as he outreaches his had. “it’s nice to meet you, i’m-”

“park seonghwa,” the older man finishes, taking the boy’s hand roughly and shaking it before dropping his hold. “i see your mother church every sunday but i can’t say the same for you.”

“dad,” you whisper, face flushing in embarrassment. 

“it’s okay, y/n,” seonghwa says quietly before he looks your dad in the face. “i...probably should go more but-”

“no need to explain yourself to me, i was just saying,” he tells him, watching the way seonghwa’s face falls slightly and you narrow your eyes at him. “where are you guys going tonight?”

“just dinner, like i told you,” you say, voice tight and arm grazing seonghwa in an attempt to bring him comfort; even if he doesn’t need comfort, you need his skin on yours to ground you. 

your dad meets his gaze, causing seonghwa to quickly confirm the plans.

“yeah, just dinner,” he says, comforted by your arm touching his. “i borrowed my mom’s car.”

a quiet hum leaves your dad’s mouth and seonghwa feels the nervous pit in his stomach growing, like he’s judging him for being a possible satanist who still borrows his mommy’s car.  

even if he was thinking that, he smiles warmly at the both of you before reminding him to have you home by ten. 

“will do, sir,” he says, already telling himself to have you home by 9:55 so if anything, he’s at least punctual. you all but drag seonghwa out of the house, waving to your dad and thanking the boy quietly when he opens the car door for you. 

he starts the car and there’s a few moments of silence before he lets out a frustrated sigh. 

“he hates me.”

you let out a soft giggle as you shake your head, tapping his arm playfully. 

“he doesn’t, he’s just...protective.” 

seonghwa only looks at you, completely unconvinced if the blank stare he’s giving you is any indication. 

“okay, maybe a little,” you agree softly, the boy rolling his eyes away from you despite the smile on his face. 

you watch him drive and admire his sharp features, wondering how and why on earth this boy asked you on a date in the first place. he turns to look at you when the light turns red, his eyebrow quirked up when he sees you’re staring at him. 

“what?”

“nothing,” you say, shaking your head before you shyly say. “i just can’t believe you asked me on a date.”

he bites his lip to hide his smile, taking his hand off the wheel and taking your hand in his. 

“you look pretty,” he says suddenly, causing you to sharply inhale and nearly choke on air. 

you never imagined someone other than a family member or elderly woman at church calling you pretty, completely thrown off and unsure how to respond. the pinkness creeping up on your cheeks is a dead give away that it’s effecting you, his eyes roaming over your face as his smile finally breaks through.

“really pretty.”

and so you don’t completely go mute and dumb, you tease “it’s just because i’m not in a grandma sweater.” 

he only rolls his eyes and taps you on the nose. “i’ve come to really like those grandma sweaters.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth and he can only smirk as he looks back at the road. 

the light turns green and your heart flutters ever so slightly when instead of disconnecting your hands, he brings it to his lips to press a soft, sweet kiss.

your hands don’t disconnect when he pulls up to the restaurant nor when you walk in and wait to be seated. 

you look around at the other couples in the area and that’s when it hits you that you’re one of them. that right now, you’re on your first date and have absolutely no idea what you’re doing. 

“what’re you looking at?” he quietly hums in your ear, watching you look around at the other young couples embraced in a handhold or back hug. 

“nothing,” you say quietly before looking up at him. “i just... i’ve never been on a date before.”

his lips press against your head and you hear him laugh against it, your eyebrows furrowing as you smack his stomach lightly. 

“stop laughing,” you whine.

“but you’re cute,” he hums lowly. 

he hears you let out a sigh and disconnects his lips from your head, taking your cheeks in his hands and ignoring the way your eyes widen at the contact.

“just take a breath for me, okay?” he says lowly, staring down at your wide-eyed gaze and feeling such an overwhelming desire to kiss you. “it’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about.”

“but i don’t kn-”

“seonghwa, table for two,” a female voice interrupts. his eyes widen teasingly as a quiet gasp leaves his mouth. “let’s go, baby.”

and, of course, he was right. 

it was fine. 

the second you sat down and looked over the menus, you fell into a natural and teasing conversation that carried on for the rest of the date. everything was always light-hearted and fun, never delving into serious topics or issues. 

he paid the bill after eyeing you the second you pulled out your wallet, a blush crossing your face as you quietly mumble out your gratitude. he took your hand in his, you shyly looking down and watching your fingers intertwine as he leads you through the parking lot.

“where are we going now?” 

you look up at him and see him watching you with a small smirk, probably from the permanent blush on your face, and relishing in the fact that he’s the one that put it there. 

"you’ll see.”

the two of you walk hand-in-hand across the street, tiny squeals leaving your mouth as seonghwa abandons the crosswalk signs and runs straight across. low chuckles leave his mouth as he tightens his hold on your hand, dragging you in front of him and shaking his head.

“you think i’m gonna let you get hit by a car?”

“i just don’t know why you couldn’t wait,” you say, amusement in your voice. “do you have to always prove you’re just such cool rule-breaker?” 

his eyes widen at your uncharacteristic snark, a smirk playing at his lips that only makes your small, smug smile grow wider. 

“rule-breaker, huh?” he hums. “is that what you really think of me? i got a 100 on my play, you know.”

a laugh bubbles out of your mouth as you roll your eyes playfully, your heart soaring because you just know how proud he actually is of that. something about it is so cute, that he now knows he’s capable of succeeding and doing well.

“oh right, i’m sorry,” you tease, looking up at him to admire his smiling face in the setting sun. you don’t know if it’s just because you hadn’t known him well or only saw him in bad situations but you never noticed just how sweet his smile is. 

you see the exact moment something in his eyes change, your gaze following his before you let out at tiny gasp.

to all the places this boy could’ve taken you, like some sort of underground ring or a crazy house party, you’re both standing in front of-

“a playground?” you squeal, trying to contain the childlike excitement building in you. 

“yeah, is that stupid?” he asks, an unsure smile on his face as he looks down to gauge your reaction. he watches your eyes traveling from the swings and slides, feet wiggling beneath you and feels his heart soften even more. 

your neck then snaps up to look at him, a shy smile on your face as you quickly shake your head. 

“not at all,” you say, tightening your hold on his hand. “i just wouldn’t expect that from you.”

“and why’s that?” he asks, dipping his head ever so slightly as his words fan over your ear. “it’s against the rules to go into a playground at sunset.”

your eyes widen when you look up at, a tiny scoff leaving your mouth. but before you can get the words out to chastise him, he pulls you towards the fence that is short and easy enough for you both to climb over.

“are you sure you’re okay?” seonghwa asks, bent down with his hands on your knees, watching you breathe heavily as you sit on the swing.

the two of you had run around the playground like children, racing down the slide and then chasing after each other when one of you lost. 

you squealed as he caught you around the waist, his hands digging into your hips and nearly making your heart explode. he was always quick to loosen his hold and take his hands off of you afterward, demanding a rematch as you watch him run up the steps. 

“yeah, i’m fine,” you say, leaning your head against the cold chain and flooding with relief. “just out of shape.”

a scoff leaves seonghwa’s mouth as he watches you carefully; you don’t look out of shape. 

“i’m fine, seonghwa,” you whine, feeling his gaze still on you. he only narrows his eyes, rubbing your exposed skin before standing up and plopping down on the swing next to you. 

the two of you swing in a comfortable silence for a few moments, admiring the dark sky and singing cicadas. head still on the chain, you turn yourself to look over at him and he must feel your gaze because he does the same, eyes roaming over you because he doesn’t like how lethargic you’ve become.

“thank you for asking me on this date,” your soft voice says suddenly. “i...i had a lot of fun.” 

he watches your cheeks warm with a smile, holding his hand out for you to grab again. 

you take it immediately, his eyebrows furrowing at how small and bony it feels in your hand - have you always been this small?

he pushes down the thoughts because he doesn’t wanna ruin this moment, be distracted from the soft smile on your lips and the pink on your cheeks.

“yeah?” he hums. “i felt some pressure, being that it was your first and all.”

a quiet giggle leaves your mouth as you shake your head. 

“well it was perfect so good job,” you say, “another 100.”

he snorts at your nerdy comment, turning his face away to hide his smile and look at the rest of the playground. 

he hadn’t come to this playground in years, remembering it so vividly from his childhood. how it seemed so big and scary, like some sort of deathtrap that he could only handle because he had someone next to him.

“i used to come here a lot, you know.”

“oh yeah?” you ask, voice happy and light as you picture a young, exuberant seonghwa. 

“mhm,” he hums, a lump suddenly in his throat as if it’s begging him not to say his next few words. some part of him wants to tell you, break down some unfamiliar, vulnerable side of him in an effort to show he really is trying for you. 

and what better way to do that than woefully spilling about his absent father? 

but then when he finally says, “i used to come here with my dad,” he wishes he hadn’t. it’s embarrassing and kind of humiliating to talk about these types of things with a person you’re starting to-

“that’s sweet,” you tell him softly, smiling over at him warmly. “he sounds like a good dad.”

“he left us a few years after.”

your body stills and veins run cold when those words leave his mouth, your heart tugging in your chest at the sad, short way he says it. 

“oh.”

an awkward chuckle leaves his mouth as your surprised response, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously in fear that he just ruined the vibe between you both. before he can try to backtrack, however the hell one could backtrack something like that, he feels your hand squeeze his. 

“i’m sorry.”

he looks over at your soft, sympathetic gaze and smiles sadly, feeling the overwhelmingly need to cup your cheek and brush over your soft skin.

“not your fault,” he says. 

you move further into his touch, swallowing at the way his eyes roam over your face.

“well, it’s not yours either,” you squeak out, unsure of what exactly to say to comfort him but wanting to so bad. 

because sometime within these months, you’ve discovered what a kind, sensitive person he actually is. how all of his troublesome behaviors and bullshit was just covering up for the fact he was sad and frustrated and maybe a little lonely.

he lets out a scoff, that overwhelming urge to kiss you coming back with a vengeance.

“where were you years ago,” he laughs out, thinking back to his middle school self creeping through the schoolyard and etching his rage onto the brick of the school. 

because for some reason, the boy had convinced himself it was all his fault.

that his dad had gotten tired of his bad grades and snarky backtalk and the fact that he never listened to him. it took him up until a few years ago, when the sadness turned to anger, that he knew his dad left purely due to the fact that he was just an asshole.

you smile sadly watching him stare blankly, knowing his mind is probably going to all sorts of sad places. to a time in his life where he blamed himself and didn't know how to properly cope. 

if you had known, you would've done what you did now. offer him your support and friendship and let him know someone will be there for him.

"i'm here now though," you remind him quietly, moving the swing back and forth, in sync with the way your thumb starts gently brushing over his hand. 

it's like he needed that touch to bring him back to reality, his blank eyes turning to look at you and wonder if you're even real.

the way he's looking at you causes you to nervously fidget, the intense softness of his gaze making your stomach and heart go into frenzy. so much so that you shyly look away, focusing on the way your hand always looks so small in his.

you feel him bring his swing closer to yours, holding himself right beside you and lifting your chin gently. his gaze immediately falls to your lips and you let out a shaky, nervous exhale, your eyes darting across his face because you've definitely read about this before.

the buzzing energy before a kiss, the way someone's eyes lower and tongues dart out to lick at their lips.

"i wanna kiss you," you hear him mumble, his eyes moving to yours and his heart dropping when he sees your wide-eyed gaze. he also sees a hint of curiosity though, a hint of the same desire and need in yours.

you swallow again, your own eyes falling to his lips before back up to him. 

"i... might be bad at it,” you whisper, voice caught in your throat.

if your statement didn't make his heart hurt in the best way possible, your eyes proved to be the bigger weakness. proved to make a smile spread across his face, a short chuckle leaving his mouth as he shakes his head at you.

"that's not possible," he hums, his gaze boring right into you, like he's waiting for any sort of permission. 

after you let out another shaky exhale and close your eyes, you feel his lips press lightly against yours.

and while it's a careful, slow kiss, it doesn't take away from the fact that it's perfect. 

that it makes your insides warm and flutter and brings an immediate blush to your face. that after a few moments, he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours and makes you feel like that was the nicest thing to ever happen to you.

you take a few calming breaths before opening your eyes, dropping them shyly when you see him looking right at you.

"see," he mumbles, placing a kiss on your cheek, and then the other, before a finishing one on the tip of your nose. "not possible."

a flustered, girlish giggle leaves your mouth that he can't help but also laugh at, rising from his spot on the swing before standing in front of you with his hand outreached.

"what?"

his lips turned into a frown before he kneels down in front of you again, placing his hands on your bony knees. 

"as much as i don't wanna leave you right now, i gotta get you home."

true to his word, he gets you home five minutes before ten, silently hoping your dad notices and logs in it the back of his mind where his lack of church attendance is also stored.

because even though he sleeps in on sundays and kissed his daughter two more times, he's really hoping he'll be okay when he comes to pick you for date number two next week.

date number two turned into date number six and then over the next few months, you both had started to lose count.

if you weren't together at your house, doing homework and midterm projects in the living room, you were at the cemetery or playground. 

leaned back against his chest on a blanket, his arms wrapped around your waist as he hums quietly against your head. his hands grazing the small of your back as he pushes you on the swing and watches you tip your head back in the air.

tonight's date, however, was a surprise. 

he had told you on monday to clear your schedule for saturday, silencing you with a peck of the lips any time you pressed him further. your constant questioning served to be of no use because even in the car on your way to the surprise, he wouldn't budge.

if anything, he made it worse by then whipping out a blindfold and securing it around your face at a red light.

"do you trust me?" he had asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you only let out a sigh, lips turning into a pout because "of course i do." 

that right there sealed your fate for being completely blind for the next twenty minutes.

you feel the the car suddenly stop, the scent of salt hitting your nose through the open window and making your eyebrows furrow together; you had never smelt anything like this before.

"i'm gonna get out and open your door, okay?" he tells you, the sound of his door shutting quickly followed by yours opening. 

you reach out your hand for him to grab, a foreign softness under your sneakers when you step out. he guides you for a few minutes with your blindfold still on, letting out huffs and grumbles every now and then that were silenced by his laughter.

and then when you hear what sounds like crashing water and the loud chirp of a seagulls, you hear his voice from behind you tell you take it off. 

a gasp leaves your mouth that lights up his entire face.

"number three, see the-"

"ocean!" you squeal, turning around to throw your arms around him gratefully. his laugh is muffled against your head, lips pressing a kiss on top on your hair.

"thank you, seonghwa," you say, tightening your arms around him as you press your chin into chest, looking up at him with a bright, excited smile. he can only find it in himself to smile back, take your face in his hands and place another full kiss on your lips.

luckily, your kissing has gotten a lot better with practice. 

pressing up on the tips of your toes to deepen it, your mouths gliding and parting as a breeze from the ocean hits both of you. when you pull apart, his eyebrow raises mischievously, both at your new found boldness and the prospect of exploring the ocean, so he takes your hand in his.

"you're welcome, baby. now let's go."

he pulls you toward the water as your giggles ring through the salty air, squealing when you feel the freezing water on your bare feet and jumping in seonghwa's arms when a big wave splashes up and hits your leg.

he completely uses that to his advantage, tightening his hold on you and running further out into the ocean. he doesn't care that his pants get soaked and his feet go numb, because your loud laugh and squeals of his name have come to be his favorite sound.

you eventually jump down and deal with the consequences that are freezing bones and a wet dress, running away and splashing through the ocean before he catches you by the waist and twirls you around.

but then he notices that concerning, lethargic wave hit you when you grab onto his arm, something he’s been noticing more and more of these past few weeks together. 

he quickly ushers you out of the ocean, guiding you onto the towel that he laid out as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

"what happened?" he asked, voice full of concern. "are you okay?"

you insist the you're fine. that the waves of the ocean were rough and that you're not used to it. 

you push him down when he asks again if you're okay, allowing your head to rest on his chest and watching the waves crash onto the shore as the sun sets below the horizon.

"i can't believe you took me to the see the ocean," you mumble against his chest, still in disbelief that this is the same seonghwa you've known your whole life. 

the same seonghwa who constantly wore a pissed off expression, punched anyone who looked at him funny and yelled at you during tutoring.

"i like to see you happy," he says, his words genuine, without a single hesitation which makes you burrow your head and smile into his wet shirt. "which is why i have another plan for us."

you perk up at this words, lifting your body and sitting cross-legged beside him. "another surprise?" you squeak excitedly, reminding him of a child on christmas day.

"yup, another surprise for my girl," he says teasingly, sitting up to peck your cheek. "and if you say yes, you'll be my tattooed girl."

he has to keep his poker face on but it proves to be a challenge with the way your face drops, eyes wide and skin paling as you stare at him blankly. "wh-what?"

"yeah, i figured we'd just cover number four too," he says sweetly, faking it just a little bit to sell his point. "so i looked up tattoo shops around here and-"

"what?!" you squeal out again, feeling panic start to creep in your veins. "seonghwa! i-i can't actually-"

"but why not, baby?" he asks, the smirk tugging at his lips uncontrollable. "it's on the bucket list."

"okay, yeah, but you don't have to do everything on it."

his eyes narrow at you, tapping you on the nose that you naturally scrunch. 

"i think you do when there's only four things on it." 

your eyes remain wide and panic-stricken, staring at him mouth agape like he's grown five heads.

"seonghwa," you manage to get out, "you have to be- you're joking, right? you have to be joking. i can't go home to my dad with a freakin'-"

your words halt when you watch him throw his head back in laughter, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he pulls you into him. 

"of course i'm joking, baby. do you really think i'd bring you home with a freakin' tattoo?"

heat rushes to your cheeks as you push him over, slapping his chest playfully and yelling at him for being so mean and scaring you. he's quick to push you onto your back, holding himself above you and peppering kisses over your face and cheeks as an apology.

"that's why i got these," he says after he pulls back, fishing in the back pocket of his jeans and pulling out five white cards. your eyebrows pull together in confusion, lifting yourself up and gasping when you see an array of temporary tattoos.

"these are perfect!" you squeal, taking them in your hand and examining each of them as if they're not gonna fall off by the time you get home; after careful consideration, you pick out a purple butterfly.

"i want this one. you pick now," you tell him with a smile, laughing when he goes with the identical butterfly in pink. the both of you run to the ocean, securing your tattoos in matching spots with cold salt water.

"this is so nice, imagine i really got one," you say, twisting your wrist as you hold your arm out in front of you. you look over to see him watching you softly, feeling a blush creep up on your face.

"what?" you say, shy embarrassment suddenly in your tone.

"nothing," he says causing you to shrug and look back at your tattoo.

his brain screams at him that he has to tell you, that this night can't end without him telling you and that it’s most definitely not nothing.

ten minutes later, with your head resting against his chest watching the steady ocean waves gain, he quietly says your name. 

you hum questioningly against his chest, feeling your eyes grow heavy at the tranquility of... everything. of his presence and the ocean and the way your life just seems so-

"i love you."

and just like that, all the tranquility is gone.

you rip your head away from his chest, eyes darting to his to see such raw vulnerability and love shining in his eyes. you can't control the way your own widen, the way your heart and stomach twist and turn into knots and make you feel even more nauseous than usual.

because he can't love you. he can't. 

something could happen at anytime and take you away from him and then what's gonna happen? you can't be responsible for hurting him and making him feel sad, even if you're-

"now would be a good time to say something," he says lowly, feeling his heart sink at the evident panic on your face.

but then he starts to panic when he sees your eyes fill with tears, backing away from him slightly as you shake your head at him.

“y/n?” he asks, holding his hands out as he walks closer to you, proving he’s not a threat to you.

"and on one more condition, seonghwa."

he raises his eyebrow at you, nodding his head as he looks at you awaitingly. because he knows it's probably gonna be something stupid like to try his very best or make it from the heart. but the last thing he expects to hear is:

"you have to promise you won't fall in love with me."

"uh...yeah, okay, that shouldn't be a problem."

"i.. i told you not to fall in love with me."

his heart sinks at the flashback, watching tears stream down your face and not being able to help the way he reaches out and takes you in his arms. he thinks you're probably just scared and vulnerable, not used to the feeling of loving someone and giving another person your entire self.

but neither is he.

and that's why, with his lips against your head, he tells you not to be scared.

 that he'll wait until you're ready to say it back and that you'll learn to do this together. 

he thinks it must calm you down a little because your arms wrap around his waist and you burrow your face in his damp shirt, muffling your cries and sobs against his shirt.

but your cries and sobs only continue later the night, putting on a strong front for the car ride home. 

seonghwa kept his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and occasionally bringing them up to his mouth to kiss; every time he did it, you looked over and smiled at him and tried to show through your eyes how much you loved him back.

but then the second you got home and your dad saw your face, he knew.

"did he tell you?" he asked gently, his heart breaking at the sight of your red cheeks and teary eyes. 

he watched park seonghwa fall in love with his daughter before his very eyes, the more evident it came the more awful he felt in his gut about it.

you can't even talk without sounding broken so you only nod your head, nearly collapsing onto the couch and hiding your face in your hands.

"you knew this was gonna happen," your dad says, not wanting to say i told you so but knowing from the start how reckless and tragic this was gonna be. "you have to tell him. be fair to him, y/n."

but nothing's fair. 

nothing about any of this is fair and you should've known life was getting too good. that you should've been expecting what tragic events were about to come.

“let’s take our bets now,” san says from his table at lunch. “is he gonna sit with her today?”

“when was the last time he sat with us?” yeosang grumbles, looking around the boy’s faces that hold a mix of anger and hurt. “he’s definitely not.”

they hadn’t seen much of seonghwa at all, really. 

missing him by the time they all gathered in front of the school after the final bell or going to his house on the weekends just for his mom to inform them he’s already out. 

and while most of them didn’t care, the older boy with hard eyes and a ticking jaw has been taking the ‘betrayal’ the worst.

“who knew he’d become such a little bitch,” hongjoong snarls. “and for her, nonetheless.”

mingi and yunho share a look, the two of them kind of caught in the middle; they’re best friends with hongjoong, have been by his side since elementary school and don’t intend on breaking that alliance. 

but they’re also close with seonghwa and see how different he is now. 

how much happier he seems because you’re in his life. they had even met you briefly after school and while you were a bit shy, there was something genuine and warm about your smile that they instantly liked. 

“she’s good for him, i think,” yunho dares to say, hongjoong’s narrowed eyes snapping to him. 

“how could she be?” the boy snarls, embarrassed that anyone he associated with could be connected to the snobby, holier than tho type like you. “i bet she doesn’t even put out.”

“i bet it’s not about that,” mingi says quietly, stiffening ever so slightly when he notices both of you come through the door. 

and like seonghwa always does, he sends them a nod of his head before sitting down across from you. your bumping arms and loving smiles make it obvious to everyone what’s going on between you two. 

hongjoong can only watch for so long seonghwa be a ‘lovesick bitch’ towards you. rolling his eyes when he watches him fawn over you, getting your food and drinks and not allowing you to lift a finger. 

(he doesn’t know it’s because seonghwa’s getting more and more concerned about how fatigued you’re growing throughout the day, something in his gut telling him it’s way more than you forgetting to drink water or not getting enough sleep as your excuses say). 

when he watches his friend tuck your hand behind your ear lovingly, a move they both would’ve laughed at before seonghwa lost his balls, he decides it’s time to get his friend back.

“what’re you doing?” he hears his friends ask from behind him but he only waves them off, stomping towards the table and rolling his eyes when you meet his gaze first. 

“seonghwa,” hongjoong says, annoyance already in his tone. the boy looks up and he stiffens, immediately recognizing the look in his friend’s eye.

“hey,” he says, voice tight and cautious. 

do not fuck with her.

“are you done with this shit or what?” 

the anger bite in the boy’s words has your head dropping immediately, eyes focusing on your lap as you try to properly prepare yourself for the worst case scenario.

that’s exactly what happens the second seonghwa asks “what are you talking about?” because it’s like hongjoong goes off the rail, scoffing as he looks at his friend. 

“you’re kidding, right? you haven’t sat with us in months. we haven’t even hung out.”

“i’ve been busy...” seonghwa says but it sounds more like a question, completely thrown off by his friends odd behavior - what is even getting so mad about?

“with what? your girlfriend?” the last word twinged with disgust.

seonghwa’s eyes travel to you and the second he sees how uncomfortable you are, he stands up and towers over hongjoong.

“we can talk about this later.”

“no, i think we should talk about it now,” hongjoong says condescendingly, everything about his tone and stance making seonghwa’s fists clench. because he can tell it’s making you more and more uneasy. 

“what the fuck is your problem?” seonghwa asks lowly, pushing his friend back. 

“my fucking problem is you dropped all of us the second this bitch came along.”

the first time you brokenly get out “stop,” is when seonghwa’s immediate reaction is to grab hongjoong by the collar of his shirt, the low mumble of student’s voices when they see the first inkling of a fight. 

“don’t call her that.”

a sadistic smirk crosses hongjoong’s face as he stares into seonghwa’s dark, blazing eyes, seeing just how quickly he’s about to lose his control. the boy’s eyes then flicker to you, looking at them fearfully.

“let me tell you, y/n. your pussy must be something, i-”

seonghwa lands a punch on the boy’s face before hongjoong’s back is slammed against the wall, a hand around his throat as his eyes blaze down at him. 

"you better shut the fuck up.”

“why?” hongjoong laughs out despite the crushing weight on his windpipe. “you mean we’re not gonna share? i think we’re all very curi-

you hear yourself begging seonghwa to stop when he drops hongjoong to the ground, giving him a few forceful kicks in the stomach before the rest of the boys jump up. 

they grab the back of seonghwa’s shirt as you join them, trying to block out the way hongjoong and him are screaming and cursing back and forth despite the pounding in your head.

whether it be from the chaos of fighting or you’re already weakened, fatigued state, your vision blurs and your brain feels foggy before you whisper out seonghwa’s name. 

you feel an unfamiliar pair of strong arms around you before passing out and your world turns black. 

yunho carries you out to his car, mingi attempting to calm down seonghwa who hasn’t stopped calling your name frantically, cursing hongjoong and saying how this is all his fault. 

the two boys are quick to ground him, tell him that that’s not what’s important right now and instead deciding where to bring you. 

seonghwa rakes his fingers through your hair, your head lolled in his lap and he feels sick looking at how pale and sunken your face looks. 

“baby, what happened to you,” he mumbles out, his long finger coming out to trail over your cheek.

the second yunho pulls up to your house, seonghwa picks you up bridal style and rushes to your front door. your dad catches the sight through the window and nearly collapses in fear. 

“what the hell happened?” the older man asks frantically, terrified and haunted by how you look lifeless in the boy’s arms. 

“she passed out at school,” seonghwa grunts out, mingi and yunho awkwardly standing in the doorway watching him barrel through your house and rest you on the couch. 

he kneels down and runs his fingers through your hair again, the lump in his throat making it nearly impossible to speak. 

“i-i don’t know happened. she said she was feeling tired but-”

“you have to go.”

his head snaps up at your dad’s words, the man watching him with hard eyes and a pale face. seonghwa can only squint his eyes at him, shaking his head as you takes your hand in his.

“with all due respect, sir, there’s no way i’m-”

“you are,” he says, his voice hard and firm and such a contrast to the peaceful way he speaks in church. “you shouldn’t even be with her.”

the statement takes seonghwa back, his eyebrow raising as he squeezes your hand before standing up. 

“what?” the boy asks, making his way over to your dad. “why?”

“seonghwa, maybe we should just-”

“no,” seonghwa growls, his head snapping to the doorway before back at the older man. “why shouldn’t i be with her?”

the pain and worry in seonghwa’s eyes is overwhelmingly obvious, the love and care he has for you completely genuine and real, but right now that’s not your dad’s concern. 

if you were a normal, healthy teenager, he knows the boy in front of him would be perfect. 

but you’re not normal or heathy and adding another person into this mix of hurt and worry and pain is something he just can’t do, even with the fact in mind that you love him and he loves you. 

he knows it’s not his call to make and he’s being incredibly selfish but he does what he thinks is best at the time.

“because she’s too good for you. she deserves more and it’s selfish of you to think otherwise.”

the room, the house, the entire world seems dead silent after those words leave his mouth, seonghwa not only taken back and pained by the fact he said it but because it rings slightly true. 

he’s known since this started that you were too good for him and he didn’t deserve you. he’s been trying to prove himself worthy by treating you well, listening to all your dad’s rules and just being patient and loving you.

“i...even though that’s true-” seonghwa begins to say but the older man takes a step closer to him, his face full of anger and frustration as he tells him once more to leave. 

that’s when mingi comes in and grabs seonghwa by the arm, the boy fighting against his friend’s hold as his eyes move back to your unconscious body.

“mingi, fucking stop,” he screams, fighting against his friend’s hold and feeling himself grow more and more anxious the further he gets from your house. 

the hold on him doesn’t loosen until he’s put into the car, the two boys jumping in front and turning to see him bouncing his knee nervously. 

“how am i not supposed to be there,” seonghwa says as he looks at your house. “she’s gonna wake up and i’m not gonna be-”

“she’ll be fine,” yunho says gently, mingi nodding in agreement before adding on that your dad is there and everything will be fine. that you just need to rest and that you can talk tomorrow.

when seonghwa visits your house, both, saturday and sunday morning, your dad turns him away. 

tells him you’re too sick and can’t be around people right now. even when he pleas for just five minutes, just to talk to you and see with his own eyes that you’re okay, he still says no. 

it’s not until the man slams the door in seonghwa’s face that he lets his hard exterior down, his body deflating and eyes stinging because he hates that he has to do this. hates watching you sit on the couch not meeting his gaze.

“y/n, i’m doing this for-”

“don’t say it,” you snap. “i’m going to school tomorrow and i’m telling him.”

your dad lets out a sigh, sitting down next to you on the couch and running his hands over his face. “the doctor said...”

“one day isn’t gonna kill me,” you say, “i’m already dying.” 

your dad’s face falld before he quietly mumbles out his approval and goes into the kitchen, both of you crying separately, pretending like the both of you aren’t doing so, and wondering why this had to happen.

the tears just follow into monday, holding them back all day when seonghwa catches you before first period and takes you in his arms. 

“you scared me so much,” he mumbled against your head, his tight hold on you nearly crushing you but you don’t care; you both need this and you’ll only need it more later. 

later being when the library cleared out after tutoring. 

seonghwa noticed you purposely lingering by wiping down the tables and slowly putting your things away. he didn’t say anything, instead choosing to lean against the wall and admire you moving slowly around the room.

the room where you guys got to know each other. 

where you went from strangers to friends and watched each other grow. 

where he remembers being so defensive and wary of you because he couldn’t believe someone like you actually existed. 

you feel his eyes on you and smile at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“what?” 

but he only shakes his head, holding his arms out in front of him and causing you to roll your eyes; who would’ve guessed that the man with every full intention of ignoring you would grow to be the clingiest boyfriend known to man?

not that you’re complaining. 

you’re quick to make your way over and wrap your arms around him, your head resting against his chest and his hold on you tight and warm.

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, not being able to shake the feeling that something’s wrong with you. 

your stomach plummets when you realize the conversation is about to happen, that nothing is stopping it and now you’re here finally about to tell him.

“i’m okay,” you say, standing on your tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek. his smile quickly falls, however, when you add on. “but there is something i need to tell you.”

his eyebrows furrow at the seriousness in your tone, taking one look in your already glossy eyes and seeing something is seriously wrong. as nervousness floods through him, he takes you by the hand and leads you over so you both can sit down.

“what?” 

his panic starts to increase more and more as the silence between you stretches, your tongue licking at your dry, chapped lips and your pale skin nearly translucent. 

every time you try to get the words out, he sees you close your mouth and eyes well with tears.

“you’re freaking me out, baby,” he says, squeezing your hand before taking the other. “please, just tell me.”

“i’m...i’m sick,” you eventually get out, swallowing the lump in your throat because you know that’s not good enough. you know that when his eyes narrow and he says he knows, that your dad told him yesterday, you just have to say it.

your first set of tears and sobs finally come, your face falling into your hands as you shake your head over and over. he thinks that scares him more than anything, watching how fast you break down and sob out apologies, barely able to acknowledge his arms around you.

“y/n, what? what is happening? please tell me.” 

you pull back and wipe the wetness off your face, lip trembling and voice shaky when you’re finally able to gather the strength. 

“i have leukemia.”

the words don’t sink in at first, his heart reacting but brain convincing him that, no, that’s not what you could’ve said. there’s no way you could have cancer. 

“no,” he says, shaking his head as a humorless laugh leaves his mouth. “you’re- you’re perfect, you can’t-”

“i was diagnosed two years and i’ve stopped responding to treatments.”

you watch through tears and a breaking heart as his head falls into his hands now, breathing in and out like he’s trying to prevent himself from having a complete panic attack. 

there’s no way you could have cancer. there’s no way you could have cancer and be dying when you’re a perfect high school student. there’s no way you would’ve kept something like this from him.

“and you... you’re just deciding to tell me this?” he asks, his head snapping up so you can finally see the tears in his eyes. “why the fu...why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“i didn’t want you to feel weird or be different around me,” you whisper out quietly, “i was just gonna try to go on with my life and be normal and then just... die quietly or-”

he shoots up from his seat, the clattering of the chair falling back causing you to jump. you watch him pace around the room like he’s unhinged, his hands pulling at his hair as he shakes his head.

“die quietly,” he snarls out, his jaw ticking and tight and he wants so badly to punch something. “die quietly. what the fuck does that even mean?” 

you can only cry quietly watching him pace and digest the news, your head hanging low as the salty tears seep onto your lips. he’s walks over to you and kneels down, his hands on your knees as he looks up at you with teary eyes. 

“please tell me this a joke,” he says, his voice wavering and wet and broken. “please tell me you’re not...”

you can’t tell him that, so you don’t say a word. 

and it’s like that’s all the confirmation he needs to know his girlfriend, the first person he’s learned to love and the first person to ever see something in him, is dying.

he completely falls apart in your lap after that, cries wracking his body as your hands run through his hair. it’s the first time in two years you’ve ever felt scared to die. 

your condition worsens over the next few days, landing you in the hospital and seonghwa in a depression. he doesn’t leave his couch or eat for three days, his mom softly cooing and begging to tell her what happened. 

but it’s like he’s lifeless, his eyes void of anything but sadness, and it’s a sight that his mom can’t stand to look at any longer. 

she had noticed the change in her son immediately, used to his usual teen angst but quickly realizing this was so much more than that. 

she called out of work and sat down next to him, not saying a word but just stroking his hair the way she did when he was a child. 

she didn’t press him about anything, didn’t ask if something had happened with the lovely girl he had brought home weeks ago or if he wanted to talk about anything.

after an hour of just sitting with him in silence, he finally had the strength to say it aloud.

“my girlfriend... she has leukemia and she’s dying, mom,” he said, so straight-forward and matter of facty, like he’s not able to grasp that he’s talking about you. 

the woman feels her heart break for a moment, her eyes swarming with tears as she wraps him in a hug. 

“i don’t know what i’m gonna do,” he says once he’s able to speak again. “i... what am i gonna do without her? i love her.”

“i know you do,” she says gently, her heart truly aching for the both of you right now. “but she’s still here, seonghwa.”

the boy can only look at his mom watching him with her soft gaze, knowing his own face is a red, tear-stained mess. 

“what?” is all he manages to cough out.

“you should be with her right now, while you still can,” she says, not wanting to upset her son further but knowing he needs to hear this. “enjoy the time you have and make what she has left worth it. you both need that, don’t you?”

that was just the kick he needed to get off his couch and charge over to the hospital. barreling into your room and feeling tears come to his eyes again at the sight of you in a hospital bed. 

“seonghwa,” you weakly say, your lips quirking up when you see the boy standing in the doorway. your heart lifts when he smiles back at you, cautiously making his way over to you and whispering out an apology. 

“it’s okay,” you mumble out, leaning into his touch when he places his hand on your cheek.

“it’s not baby. i was an asshole.”

the last thing he expects to hear you do is giggle, sunken eyes shining as you look at his confused expression. 

“what could you possible be laughing about right now?”

“just that it takes me dying for you to admit that you’re an asshole.” 

and perhaps it’s too soon for you to be making jokes like that because his face falls as he backs away from you.

“that was a joke,” you say quietly, pouting in hopes that it’ll get him to lighten up. his lips only form into a thin line, teary gaze shooting around the bare hospital room before back at you.

“it’s not funny.”

you hold your arms out to him, uttering a tiny “come here.” he falls into them immediately, his head burying in your neck and you feel tiny, tears hit your skin ever so often.

“i’m sorry,” you tell him, feeling your own sorrow hit you. 

you’re not only sorry for your comment but sorry that you waited so long to tell him. sorry that you’re now putting him through this and that he’s gonna have to watch you grow weaker and weaker.

“please don’t,” he mumbles against your head. “you have nothing to be sorry for.” 

he knows by the look you give him that you think it’s a complete and utter lie but you really don’t have anything to be sorry for. he understands why you didn’t tell him and why you wanted to remain going on like a normal person.

because if you did tell him, he would’ve never dragged you all around the state on date nights and weekend getaways. he would’ve been far too concerned and nervous, fawning over you and choosing instead to do the same old thing you always did.

so you guys just agree to disagree, his lips crashing down on yours and you smiling against them before a very flustered nurse comes in and apologies for interrupting. 

given how much seonghwa never leaves your side, how from the second he gets out of school until he leaves (at his bribed time of 11:00 pm), you end up apologizing to every member of the staff. 

on the days you have the energy, you’ll walk hand-in-hand through the garden and slow dance with the elderly couple you’ve met; you guys had seen them dancing and they noticed your looks, smiling softly before all but forcing you to join them.

on the days that you have more often than not, when you feel tired and drained, he sits at your bedside or even crawls in next to you. 

your dad had walked in one night to see you both asleep on the tiny bed, seonghwa’s arms around you protectively with your head on his chest, and forgets that he never properly apologized to the boy.

“this is why i did it,” the man says to him the next day. 

they had left to get you soup you’d been craving, pushing seonghwa by his back and sending him a thumbs up despite the terrified expression on his face. 

“what?” 

the man looks at seonghwa as his eyes gloss over. 

“i didn’t wanna involve someone else in this heartbreak. i was... i was trying to spare you.” 

and while the boy can empathize with his reasoning, even feels slightly grateful for it, he finds himself shaking his head. 

“i love her.”

“i know,” the man says, putting his arm around seonghwa’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. how could he not when he sees the way you both look at each other? “she loves you too.”

“i know,” seonghwa says, smiling happily before taking a deep breath. “and that’s why i wanted to ask you something.”

and so it was a random wednesday night, summer break now in session and successfully keeping seonghwa at the hospital all day and night, when you completed your bucket list. 

when you whined at him to kiss you and his eyes lit up, like he was waiting for you to say something of the sort. 

“on one condition,” he says teasingly, his eyebrows shooting up playfully as your lips are just a few inches apart, so close to giving you what you so desperately want. 

“what?” you whine, your lips turning into a pout.

“marry me.”

the wedding was held at the church your dad preached out, a small group of your friends and family gathered for the celebration. it had been the happiest day of your lives, not a hint of a sadness or heartbreak despite the circumstances.

you ate and danced and sang like you were any other young bride, dragging seonghwa out on the dance floor who’s hold on you never loosened. 

he stepped on your feet and you got the cake in his nose but it didn’t even matter. you were able to get married and fall in love with park seonghwa and he was responsible for some of the best days of your life. 

seven months later, seonghwa finds himself walking through that same cemetery he (admittedly) followed you into. 

it was the place where he first realized there was something about you he was gonna fall in love with. where he saw just how much you were gonna effect and change his life. 

he had not only finally learned how to love but how to grieve. 

learned that he didn’t have to be destructive or hide behind his fake persona. that he had people in his life who cared about him and would be there to listen to him.

it’s how he’s coping day by day, knowing that the pain in his heart will never go away but that he’ll learn to live with it. that memories and reminders aren’t supposed to make you sad but serve as a way to carry on someone’s life.

with the blanket he has under his arm, he lays it out and places it in front of the grave. he drops down the flowers he’s brought every month since that devastating day and just begins to talk. 

“why do you come here then?” 

the question holds no malice or judgement, just a genuine curiosity that you perhaps understand. because while it's fairly common for people to visit their loved ones graves, its also something that some get uncomfortable by or don't understand.

"to talk to her, i guess. i think she'd wanna know what's going on in my life."

he mulls over your response in his head, nodding in understatement even though he doesn't really get it.

"what do you talk to her about?" and for the life of him, he can't understand why he's so interested in this. in you, all of the sudden.

you turn to look at him, slightly surprised that he's taking the lead in the conversation and showing an interest. but before he can misconstrue your gaze on him, you shrug your shoulders.

"anything really. i tell her about school or my dad's sermons or what i did during the weekend. sometimes i'll read."

he talks about his upcoming semester of school and how excited he is about it.

“i wish you’d be able to see me,” he says quietly, the lump forming in his throat making it difficult to breathe. 

he stands up to run his hand along the cold stone, his long fingers trailing over it before he moves back and looks over the engraving; a few moments later, he feels arms around his waist and smiles softly at the feeling. 

“you okay?” the soft voice asks him quietly. 

“yeah,” he says lowly, feeling the presence behind him move. “just telling her about school.” 

a quiet, soft hum rings through the air. 

“she’d be proud of you, you know.”

his eyes look over the grave once more before turning around, his eyes and smile softening. “i know.” he stands there silently, looking down at the headstone before picking up his blankets and saying his final goodbyes.

“see you soon, mom.” 

he turns around and meets your teary gaze, taking you in his arms and placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

“no crying, pretty girl.”

the doctors had called your remission nothing short of a miracle, transporting you to a different hospital where new treatments were being held. 

you all had been convinced that it was gonna be a waste, almost denying the treatment all together and letting the spot go to someone who’s family hadn’t come to terms with their loved ones death.

but then seonghwa’s mom came in and softly encouraged you to take it, her hand holding tightly onto yours like she knew you guys were gonna need each other come the time.

“you say that every time,” you sniffle, pouting as he wipes at the tears on your face. 

“because you cry every time.”

your soft giggle rings through the cemetery, your hands intertwined as you walk out of the squeaky gate that always reminds you of the night you shared your bucket list. 

(the bucket list that now has way more than four things on it). 

[things2mustdo]

When I ask myself what films in recent years have been my favorites, I find that the answers all seem to have a few things in common.  One, the movie must tell a compelling story; two, it must rise above its genre to make a larger statement about life or some universal idea; and three, it must be technically well made.  All great art—including film—can serve as a vehicle for the presentation of ideas, and the promotion of a certain virtue.  Although the mainstream American film industry has become more and more a sad repository of feminist cant and lowest-common-denominator commercial pandering, the foreign film world has undergone something of a renaissance in the past fifteen years.

The best films of France, Germany, Spain, and the UK are edgier, more intelligent, and more masculine than anything found in the US.  It was not always so.  But the work of great European directors like Jacques Audiard, Gaspar Noe, Nicolas Winding Refn, and Shane Meadows leaves little room for doubt that the true cutting-edge work is being done in Europe.  (Argentina deserves honorable mention here as having an excellent film industry).  The mainstream, corporate-driven US film industry has effectively smothered independent voices under an avalanche of political correctness, girl-power horseshit, chick-flickism, and mind-numbing CGI escapist dreck.

Movies that deal with masculine themes in a compelling way are not easy to come by these days.  Honest explorations of masculine virtues are repressed, marginalized, or trivialized.  One needs to scour the globe to cherry-pick the best here and there, and in some cases you have to go back decades in time.  Luckily, the availability of Netflix and other subscription services has made this task much easier than it used to be.  Access to the best cinema of Europe, South America, and Asia can be a great way for us to catch as glimpse at a foreign culture, as well as reflect on serious ideas.

I want to offer my recommendations on some films that I believe are an important part of the modern masculine experience, in all its wide variety and expression.  Out of the scores of possible choices, I decided to pick the handful of films that are perhaps not as well known to readers.  My opinions will not be shared by all.  I encourage readers to draw up their own lists of films dealing with masculine themes, and hope they will reflect on the reasons behind their choices.  Below are mine, in no particular order.  In italics is a brief plot synopsis, followed by my own comments.

1. Straw Dogs (1971).

A mild-mannered American academic (Dustin Hoffman) living in rural Cornwall with his beautiful wife becomes the target of harassment by the local toughs.  Things escalate to a sexual assault on his wife, and eventually to a brutal and protracted fight to the death when a local man takes refuge on their property.

Dustin Hoffman reaches his breaking point in “Straw Dogs”

This is a classic example of the type of movie that could never be made today.  Arguably Sam Peckinpah’s most daring film, it contains a controversial rape scene that seems to leave open the question whether Hoffman’s wife (played by Susan George) was a victim or a willing participant.  Faced with his wife’s betrayal, and continuing harassment from local miscreants, Hoffman’s character finds himself completely isolated and must learn to stand his ground and fight.

A chance incident later in the film sets the stage for a blood-soaked confrontation which is as inevitable as it is necessary. Peckinpah presents a compelling case for the cathartic power of violence, and the achievement of masculine identity through man-on-man combat.  It is a theme I find myself strongly drawn to. Controversial, powerful, and unforgettable, Peckinpah proves himself an unapologetic and strident advocate of old-school martial virtue.  We would do well to listen.  His voice is sorely missed today.  (Note:  avoid the pathetic recent remake of this movie).  Honorable mention:  Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch (1969) and Bring Head of Alfredo Garcia (1974).

2. Sorcerer (1977).

A group of international renegades find themselves down and out in Nicaragua, and volunteer for a job transporting unstable dynamite across the country to quell an oil rig fire.

Due to inept marketing when this movie was first released, it never achieved the credit it so fully deserved.  A motley group of international riff-raff (including the always appealing Roy Scheider) seeks redemption through a harrowing trial.  But will they get it?  Is it even desirable to escape one’s dark past?  The answers are complex, and director William Friedkin refuses to supply easy ones.  The characters in this film are doomed, and they know it, but they still hold true to their own code.  Which is itself honorable.  Consequences must be paid for everything we do in life, and often the price comes in a way never expect.  Dark, brooding, and humming with a pulse-pounding electronic score by Tangerine Dream, this film has deservedly become a cult classic.  The ending is a shocker you’ll never see coming.

Roy Scheider undertakes the most perilous journey of his life in William Friedkin’s 1977 masterpiece “Sorcerer”

3.  The Lives of Others (2006).

A coldly efficient Stasi (East German security service) officer (Ulrich Muhe) is enlisted by a Communist party hack in a surveillance program against a supposed subversive writer and his girlfriend.  But monitoring the writer’s life awakens sparks of nascent humanity in the Stasi man, and he eventually must decide whether to follow orders and destroy the writer, or to sacrifice himself to save him.

This German masterpiece was made with great fidelity to the look and feel of 1980s East Germany, and the results are evident in every frame.  It belongs on any list of the greatest films ever made.  The masculine virtue here is of a different type than viewers may be used to:  it is a quiet, understated heroism, the type of heroism that probably happens every day but is hardly noticed.  There is no bragging here, no chest-beating, no big-mouthed bravado.  (In short, none of the wooden-headed caricatures that pass for masculinity in the US).  The ethic here is about love and self-sacrifice, the noblest and greatest virtues of all.

The ethos of self-sacrifice is now considered old-fashioned and almost a punch-line, but historically it was valued very highly.  It features in nearly all the old literary epics and dramas of Europe and Asia.  Actor Ulrich Muhe pulls off a minor miracle of characterization here with his portrayal of a Stasi man named Weisler, whose special wiretapping assignment against a playwright transforms him from heartless automaton into awe-inspiring hero.  The movie made me wonder just how many quiet, unassuming men there must be out there, whose toil, heroism, and sacrifice has never been, and never will be, acknowledged.  The ending is transcendently beautiful, and moving beyond words.

4.  Homicide  (1991).

A police detective (Joe Mantegna) is assigned to investigate a murder case.  The case awakens in him stirrings of his long-suppressed ethnic identity.  Unfortunately, he will eventually be forced to choose between conflicting loyalties.  And the consequences will be devastating.

No modern American director has probed the meaning of masculine identity more than David Mamet, and all of his films are meditations on themes related to illusion, reality, masculinity, and struggle.  Homicide, a nearly unknown gem from the early 1990s, is perhaps his profoundest.  Mamet knows that a man must make choices in his life, and for those choices, consequences must be paid.  And very often, we find ourselves derailed by the mental edifices we construct for ourselves.  The Mantegna character is led through a complex and increasingly ambiguous chain of events, only to find that at the heart of one mystery lies an even more inscrutable one.  Beware the things you seek.  You may not like what you find.

Joe Mantegna deals with the fatal consequences of his decisions in David Mamet’s “Homicide”

5.  A Prophet (2009).

An Algerian Arab is incarcerated in a French jail, and is drawn into the savage world of Corsican gangsters.  Forced to kill or be killed, he is drawn into a pitiless world that recognizes only cunning and brutality.  He finds himself straddling two realities:  the world of his own nationality, and that of the Corsicans.  And to survive and emerge triumphant, he must learn to play all sides against each other.

This film must be counted among the greatest crime dramas ever made.  You simply can’t take your eyes off the screen.  The lesson here is that a man must learn to survive on his wits, and do whatever is necessary to stay alive.  The Corsican boss whom Al Djebena (Tahar Rahim) works for is just about the most malevolent presence in recent screen memory.  Part of France’s continuing internal dialogue about its immigrant population, A Prophet is not to be missed.

Tahar Rahim learns a thing or two about Corsica in “A Prophet”

6.  The Beat That My Heart Skipped (2005).

An intense young man (Romain Duris) works for his father as a real estate shark in urban Paris.  His “job” consists of intimidating deadbeat immigrant tenants, vandalizing apartments, and forcibly collecting loans.  He also plays the piano.  Eventually, he is forced to decide which life he wants:  the path laid out by his shady father, or the idealistic path of his own choosing.  He’s seeking redemption, but will he find it?  And at what cost?

Again, we have here the themes of redemption and moral choice.  Romain Duris has a screen presence and intensity that rivals anything done by Pacino in his prime, and some of the scenes here are fantastic.  (His seduction of his friend’s wife, Aure Atika, is one of many great scenes).  All men will be confronted and tested by crises and situations beyond their control.  How they respond to those situations will define who they are as men.  Duris’s character proves that redemption can be achieved, if wanted badly enough.

Romain Duris embodying screen intensity

7.  Red Belt (2008).

Martial arts instructor Mike Terry is forced, against his principles, to consider entering a prize bout.  He is abandoned and betrayed by his wife and friends, and must confront his challenges alone with only his code and his pride.

Another great meditation on masculine virtue and individualism by David Mamet.  In his own unique dialogue style, Mamet showcases his belief that, in the end, all men stand alone.  At the moment of truth, it is you, and only you, who will be staring into the abyss.  Our trials by fire will not come in the time and at the place of our own choosing.  But when they do come, a man must be prepared to hold his ground and fight his corner.  Watch for Brazilian actress Alice Braga in a supporting role here.  We hope to see more of her on American screens in the future.

8.  Fear X  (2003).

A repressed security guard (John Turturro) is searching for answers to who killed his wife.  His strange behavior and ticking time-bomb manner begin to alarm friends and co-workers.  One day he finds some information that may be a lead to solving the mystery.  This discovery sets him on the path to realization. Or does it?

I am a big fan of the films of Nicolas Winding Refn (The Pusher trilogy, and Valhalla Rising), and this one is perhaps his most penetrating examination of a wounded psyche.  It failed commercially when it first appeared, as many viewers were put off by his artistic flourishes and opaque ending.  For me, this film is the deepest study of grief and repressed rage ever committed to film.  All men will be confronted by tragedy, grief, and inexplicable loss during their lives.  How we handle it will define who we are.  The greatness of this film is that it explores Turturro’s claustrophobic, neurotic world in a deeply personal way, and at the same time suggests that he may actually be on to something.  This film covers the same philosophical ground as Francis Ford Coppola’s The Conversation, in that it hints at the ultimate ambiguity of all things.

John Turturro confronts the unrelenting darkness of his own psyche in “Fear X”

If you are a Netflix subscriber and watch movies frequently, as I do, you may find it useful to keep a notebook near your television and jot down the titles of movies you see, and a few notes about what you liked or didn’t like.  You’d be surprised how much you can learn from movies.  There are just so many good and bad ones out there that having some system for keeping track of them will be time well spent.

[sailing-elitsha]

Carrebeean, Here we are!!!

As I said before: 5783 nautical miles we sailed towards this little paradise where we are still on quarantine anchorage. Waiting on the PCR result is always making me a bit nervous, especially this time. If we are tested negative, we have the chance here in Grenada to get the AstraZeneca vaccines and we will travel much freer than we do now.

But no boredom: a little leak in the hand wash basin, try to clean the mud off ELITSHA, friends and family to speak to, small other repairs, taking the lead in UBUNTU again since we have full and unlimited internet on board, planning and booking Zora’s and Su’s tickets towards us, baking bread again and of course swimming and snorkelling.

 But let me talk first a little bit about Suriname and our short sail to Grenada. Suriname was for a long time a Dutch colony. Since 1975, this country is the smallest independent state in South America. The previous president unfortunately abused his power and all the resources the beautiful country has, for example gold, aluminium, oil, bananas got exported unwisely and the profit went into the presidents and his friend’s pockets. That is what Surinamers were telling us. In the meantime, there is a new president, but there is Corona as well. The ECO tourism, Suriname was good and well known for, stands still and the country is in a bad state and shape. At the banks of the Suriname river, entering Suriname, you see big and then I mean really big villas. According to the locals they belong to friends of the former president and to drug lords. A very familiar story to us South Africans. The Netherlands is still involved and helps where they can, but a few days after we left Suriname they closed the country: total lockdown. Just above 500 000 people live in Suriname and most of them in and close to Paramaribo. People are currently getting infected and dying in huge numbers from Corona: not enough hospital beds, not enough vaccinations, not enough oxygen……… not enough doctors and nurses. Their rainy season is terrible this year due to the ELNino effect and its really tuff for the poor population. After a good week in the Marina and a road trip through the rural part of the country to a big dam where people are searching for gold, visiting banana plantations, visiting Paramaribo with a lot of rain we said goodbye to the populated part of Suriname together with Elitsha and we sailed into the Commewijne river. This was so romantic and special. The jaguars, caiman and anacondas were too scared of us, hahahahha. We did not see them, but we heard and enjoyed the voices of the jungle, saw and heard millions of birds, parrots and all kind of other noises. It was magical.  Three days we were totally one with nature, did not see any human being, together with Elitsha.

Coming back from Commewijne river was coming back to happy reggae life. Looking for a spot ashore to get our dingy on board for the trip to Grenada, a fisher of New Amsterdam waved us to come next to his fisher boat. Loud reggae music and a very friendly crew invited us for coffee, tea and biscuits……….and dagga and rum………..Unfortunately, we had to say thank you no (dagga and rum out of question, of course). The threat of getting infected just before we go back to sea again for a couple of days made us kindly refusing the offer. Even though we chatted a while with them and they helped us to get the dingy motor on board. And that’s how Surinamers are, chatty, always happy to assist and help, curious and interested about who you are. As I mentioned before people told us in advanced, that coming to South or Central America or the Caribbean with a South African flag would ask for problems. That was one of the reasons why we registered Elitsha in Germany. But we always say that we are from Cape Town, we don’t hide that and up to now we had no bad experiences. People are impressed that we come from that far to visit their small country and want to know if we like it. They loved the fact that we speak Dutch, because Dutch is still the first language in Suriname. Anyway, after chatting to the fishermen, we tied everything nicely, slept a short night and left New Amsterdam and Suriname at 6 am on the 25th of May.

Aware of the thread of Venezuelan pirates (Surinamers and NOON site (cruiser website) informed us about it), we sailed at a safe distance from the coast. Even though we choose to pass trough the Galleon’s passage between Trinidad and Tobago, but we choose to pass it close to the Tobago side,  away of the Venezuelan coast. On our way we saw a fair number of oil platforms, huge ones, with huge flames, we could see from far. This was also a bit spooky. We had 35 to 40 knots of wind and a good speed to leave the oil area and the Galleon’s passage behind us. I think, pirates do not like rain. We had tons of rain and no pirates though……..although: Dick told me later, that 40 miles out of both coasts, the Grenadian and the Tobagonian, a fast open boat with 3 men in it sped past us. We think they were checking us out, how rich we are. The stretch between Tobago and Grenada apparently is also declared as an unsafe area. That is what we heard later when we arrived in Grenada. Our neigor, Steve, always has a gun with him. Happily, with enough wind and a strong currant we passed Tobago at 4:30 in the morning and arrived safely in Grenada at 17:00 on the 28th of May.

Close to the harbour at the quarantine anchorage we spoke to our South African friends of the Aventura, a young couple with 2 dogs and his parents on their way to emigrate to Panama. We saw them in every harbour we visited up to now. They left Suriname a few days earlier then we did. They craved for blue water and thought jaguar, caiman and anaconda would perhaps love their dogs too much. In any way, nice to see them again. They explained the Grenadian procedures to us and on Saturday we went ashore to register with the health department. We inhaled the positive and relaxed Grenadian vibe immediately: steel drum music from the taverns, people on the streets, Corona is almost dealt with.

And in the meantime, 1 week in St George, we are declared negative and are allowed to explore the island. Paul, a registered tour guide grabbed his chance. Slandering around the harbour he almost forced us to have a tour with him.  The cruise ships are missed by restaurants, tour guides…not by us. Paul told us, that they on “good” days had 6000 tourists from cruise ships ashore. Dick and I were quite happy to escape these “good“ days. Pity for Paul, that’s why we went with him on a long trip through St. George at noon and let him earn some ECDs.  Hot and up and down, I was exhausted at the end. We didn’t walk much for the last 2 months at least..

Grenada is the spice island: nutmeg, gloves, cinnamon, and other spices grow here. They have a golden waterfall and many more attractions. We will explore them all and share with you. For now, we experienced the spicy side of the island by drinking shandies with nutmeg, eating ice cream with nutmeg and gloves and some other weird things you would think its really ugg, but in reality it’s absolutely amazing.

We are registered for Astra Zeneca vaccination and yes, we are in a marina with a nice club house and WIFI and not on anchorage or at a mooring buoy. For the first time in almost 3 months, I am able to go and stay where I want on my own. For somebody like me, who likes her independence, its heaven. Opposite of our little paradise, there is another marina, posh and expensive and not really our style. Elitsha, would feel a bit lonely between all the posh-million dollar-yachts. I don’t know, if I mentioned before, that a lot of other cruisers, have fancy and well-equipped boats with freezers, bread baking automates, washing machine, water cooker……. you name it. Our only luxury is a fridge, a BBQ and a good stove with oven, cosy and exactly what we need no more and no less. Anyway, Elitsha got a good clean-up. Sticky, a local guy, Dick and I made her looking pretty again. The water of the Suriname river was dirty through mud and chemicals, they use for the gold extraction industry, we learned. And this was very difficult to get off the hull-0987654Qasdfuiop[.

My home office is in the marina’s clubhouse, with more than brilliant views!          Unfortunately, UBUNTU for Africa’s operations manager, who took over financials and admin of the NGO from me, resigned a few days ago. That’s why I am back on the job and working every day for an hour or 3. Alene Edson Smith, local social worker, who was already involved in the family program and took over my job at Kronendal Primary, is doing the hands-on jobs, where you have to be involved personally onsite, like team meetings, meetings with principals etc. For now, we won’t have stretches which will take more than 3 days and we have internet and WIFI. No problem to work though. I love my work as much as I love cruising. To combine both is absolutely great.

For the rest the NGO is in good hands, with our after-care team, Barbara Heye, who is mentor to a single mother with 3 kids. And as I mentioned before Alene Edson Smith, well known in the valley through her involvement through her own NGO, Serenity, took over the reins at Kronendal Primary from me and is mentor to 5 families in our NGO. We share the lead of UBUNTU for Africa. What I can do, I will do, where personal presence is needed, Alene will be hands on. She will lead the sound and music studio, which will release their first CD soon. Lelo managed to get 2 new volunteers into this project, for marimba and music production. Ricardo will remain taking the lead on Silikamva side and Alene will have a firm look and hand on the project.

After care is just running. Andiswa and her team also get support from Alene. But this team of 5 is just doing what they can do best: love our children and supervise, support, teach them and make sure that they are safe.  

 Questions for the kids:

1.       How many kilometres did we sail from Cape Town to Grenada?

2.       Which language do the people speak in Suriname?

3.       What kind of currency do we used in Suriname and which one in         Grenada?

4.       Please explain, what the modern pirates of the Caribbean are up to.

5.       What is the name of the small entrance to the Caribbean between Trinidad and Tobago?

 Sponsor sail:

For the ones who want to take part in our sponsor sail: We have sailed 1812 nautical miles. You can donate a cent, a Rand, a Euro or whatever per nautical mile. We are sailing for these amazing schools: every nautical mile and each Rand counts. To UBUNTU for Africa,German  NGO.                                                                                                                                                                   

The money will go to the UBUNTU for Africa projects: after care at Hout Bay Primary School and the music project at Silikamva High School. This organisation I started 12 years ago (www.ubuntuforafrica.com) Of course, you will receive a tax certificate. 

Ubuntu for Africa-Kinder-, Jugend und Familienhilfe in Südafrika                         

Volksbank Boenen e G                                                                                           

IBAN: DE91 4106 2215 0054 5799 01                                                                  

For South Africans and others, who want to donate directly to South Africa (also with tax certificate): please donate to Kronendal Primary School (www.kronendalprimary.com). I worked for 10 years at Kronendal Primary as a school counsellor. This school struggles financially due to the consequences of the Covid Pandemic and deserves our support.                                                   

KRONENDAL PRIMARY SCHOOL trading as CUIM (“the account holder”) holds the following account with                                                                                       

First National Bank, a division of FirstRand Bank Limited (“FNB”): Account Type BUSINESS ACCOUNT

Account Number 53452884035                                           

Branch Code 204009                                                                                         

Branch Name HOUT BAY 345                                                                               

Swift Code FIRNZAJJ                                                                            

[snowdice]

The Horror of Stereotypes (Part 5)[Dice Roll 6]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Remus/Logan/Patton with Remus/Logan focus (more pre-romantic considering the situation), Remus & Roman, Logan/Patton (established, but not at the forefront for most of it)

Characters:

Main: Remus, Logan

Appear: Roman, Patton, Deceit (but blink and you’ll miss it)

Summary: There had always been a certain stereotype about people like him for as long as anyone could remember. After the Heart War of 1963, those stereotypes had been legalized and places like this had been created to enforce the universal truth: everyone had a soulmate. One soulmate. No more and no less.

At least they were supposed to.

When Remus’s brother gets arrested because of his two soulmarks, Remus risks everything by infiltrating the facility he legally should be in as well due to his own two soulmates to save him. There he meets Logan and it turns out they have a lot in common: they both got hired this week, they both have two soulmates, and they’re both here for the same reason.

Oh. And as it turns out, they’re each other’s soulmates too.

Universe: Soulmate AU

Genre: Horror (Yeah, it’s a fun combo. The horror vibe is mostly contained to chapter 3 though. It’s all still horrifying, but that specific tone is pretty much only there.)

Notes: Torture, Torture of a main character, Dystopian, Blood, Guns, Gunshot wounds, Leg wounds, Mentions of Desecrating an Animal Corpse by a Main Character, Imprisonment, Mentions of Cannibalism, Genocide Suggested, Sexual Innuendo, Fear, A tasteless but not serious incest joke, Medical procedures.

This is part of my Roll the Dice Event which is where I do random ships, universe, and genres for the Sanders Sides fandom. For more details see this post. I posted my results from this dice roll here.

Hey look, it’s your friendly neighborhood Gavin here to help with all of our plans.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

The office mostly drained of people by 5:15, most of the other employees in the office rushing home to live their happy normal Wednesday nights. Most of them had chatted about having kids to or around Remus the last few days. So, many of them were rushing off to cook dinner for their kids, to pick a group of them up from after school actives, or volunteer for those Wednesday night church program youth group things. He briefly wondered what they’d do if precious Jimmy aged up to 18 and got the wrong number of soulmarks. He imagined he already knew the answer.

Even Gavin rushed off a few minutes before 5 even before Remus had a chance to pretend to leave. By 5:30, Remus and Logan were the only ones left.

Remus shut off the main office lights and snuck into the side room where Logan already was. “We’re good out there,” Remus told him.

Logan nodded. “We’ll need to leave soon if we want to be in position on time.” He reached into his bag and tossed Remus an energy bar which Remus absentminded started to shove down. Meanwhile, Logan pulled up the map again. “Point to the places I showed you earlier,” he demanded.

Remus dusted the crumbs off his hands and pointed to one of the squares representing cells on the floorplan. “Patton’s there,” he said. He moved his finger up the hall to the staircase. “We go up that.” Logan hit a button and the map changed to the first floor. “Out the door and the car’s right there.”

“Good,” Logan said, his hands dropping from the keyboard onto the desk.

“I’ve got it Nerd. Don’t worry about it.”

Logan nodded and reached back into his bag. “Here,” he said and dropped a set of car keys into his hands.

“I…”

“There are two pairs. I have one too. It’s… just in case.”

“Alright,” Remus said, voice a little thick. He stuffed them into his pocket, “but just so you know, I’m planning on you driving so I can antagonize you about how you’re doing it wrong from the back seat.”

“Looking forward to it,�� he said with a half-smile. He turned back to the screen, his fingers tapping out a nervous pattern on the desk.

“You’re thinking,” Remus said. “What?”

Logan glanced up to meet his eyes. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should turn the cameras off or not,” he said. “If we leave them up, we’ll be easier to find if they notice something wrong, but if we take them down before we go, someone would be sure to notice, and it would take away the element of surprise. Yet, it would be harder for them to find us without camera access. If we don’t act quick enough, they might be able to lock everything down before we get out. What do you think is best?”

“Well, I think,” a voice said from behind them, “you should really make sure everyone’s gone before you start having your little huddles.”

Logan and Remus whipped around to see that Gavin had somehow snuck up on them without them noticing.

“We were…” Logan started.

“Or,” Gavin continued, “make sure no one followed you back from the bathroom on the first night.”

They paused, and Logan squared his shoulders. “I don’t know what you think you head but-”

Gavin put up a hand. “I’ll shut down the cameras for you.”

“…What?” Remus asked.

“I assume you have a program set up that will be easy enough to use,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll wait until the two of you are in position and then shut them off. I’ll even set off an alarm in the west wing to divert attention from where you are.”

“You…” Remus said. “What?’

“Oh,” Gavin said dryly, “my apologies, I have a bit of nervous stutter. Must be hard for you to understand my words. That’s why they always give me these specific low-stress jobs.”

“And what jobs are those?” Logan asked.

Gavin scoffed. “Remind me to tell you when the two of you are better at deception.”

“But,” Remus said, “you said multis and everyone who sympathized with them should die. You liked listening to me talk about all of the ways to torture them.”

“What can I say,” Gavin said, face twisting up into a toothy smile. “I’m a liar.” Remus stared at him blankly for a few moments. “Now go get your people before I change my mind about risking my own objective, and then run.”

Remus and Logan shared a look. ‘Could they trust him?’ Remus asked with his eyes.

‘Do we have a choice?’ Logan replied with an eyebrow raise.

Logan turned back to Gavin. “Don’t get caught,” he said.

“Oh, I never get caught. Also, next time, don’t use your real names. Idiots.”

The level that Patton was on was not quite as bad as the level below it, though Remus wasn’t sure if that was because the people here were treated any better or if it was simply because they’d chosen the time of day where the people whose jobs it was to cause the screaming wouldn’t be around as much. There was still wailing and sobbing from every direction as Remus walked down the hall to the cell he’d been looking for. He waited outside the cell until the alarm started going off in the distance. He swiped his card and the door opened for him automatically.

The man who must be Patton did not look at him when he entered the room, his eyes fixed on a spot on the opposite wall. The man was in a bad way, bloody and bruised, but his lips were set in a firm line. If Remus didn’t already know he hadn’t given anything up by the fact that Logan hadn’t been discovered yet, he’d know by the look on his face. Studying the man briefly, Remus had the feeling that Logan never would have been given up no matter how long he was here. Luckily for Patton, Remus didn’t plan to allow that theory to be tested.

“Patton,” he said gently. Patton didn’t move his eyes from the spot on the wall, but his jaw did tick. “Listen Patton, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m getting you out of here.” No response. “Lo-…” He wasn’t going to say it just in case. “Lo sent me. You know who I mean?” That did prompt a reaction. Patton’s eyes finally met his.

“Lo?” he asked softly, and Remus winced at the sound of his voice. His brain supplied the thought that he’d probably been screaming recently; Remus hated his brain now more than he ever had before.

“You didn’t think the nerd would leave you here, did you?” Remus asked with a small smile. “I’m sorry, but there’s not much time to explain. Hear that alarm? We have about until it stops to get both of us out of here, okay?” Remus offered him a hand.

Patton hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded. “Okay.” He grabbed the offered hand, and Remus felt a burning on his forearm similar to what he’d felt a few days ago when he’d met Logan. Patton’s wide eyes met his.

“Like I said, there isn’t time to explain.” Patton looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. He just did his best to pull himself to his feet with Remus’s aid. His face twisted up and Remus could see why as soon as the man wasn’t curled into a ball on the floor. Remus said nothing. He just leaned forward and picked him up bridal style as carefully as he could.

Patton tensed, but then relaxed, pressing his face into Remus’s shoulder. As soon as he had a good grip on the man, Remus took off back out of the cell and down the hallway. “Not how I imagined my soulmate would sweep me off my feet when we met,” Patton breathed next to his ear.

Remus couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle even as he sped up the staircase. “Wow, I think I’d die for you,” he said without meaning to.

Patton shook his head. “Please don’t.”

“Working on it Sunshine,” he promised. The alarm shut off right when he made it to the exit. “Fuck,” he hissed, but didn’t stop, shoving through the door to the outside and booking it straight towards the woods. He heard someone yell but didn’t manage to make out what they were saying. A gunshot rang out and he felt something hit his arm, but he didn’t stop running. Though, he did hunch over Patton just a bit more as more shots were fired.

He made it to the woods and saw a car. There were already two figures in it. The backseat door was opened from the inside for him. “Sorry Sunshine,” Remus said and dove in, jostling the poor hurt man. He released him and reached back to shut the door behind him. “Go, fuck, go!” Remus’s head slammed against the door when the car lurched forward and he ended up on his knees on the floor, scrunched behind the back of the passenger seat and the backseat. Remus didn’t get time to catch his bearings as the car swerved violently. He lunged forward to keep Patton from rolling off the seat.

Patton grabbed him in response to try to steady him. Remus managed to get his ass on the floor and his back against one of the doors even as the car tried to ram them all violently every which way. He threw one arm over Patton as a makeshift seatbelt and curled the other around himself to try to protect his head.

Remus felt a hand touch his back, which prevented him from being thrown around the next time the car jerked. His eyes flickered up to the man in the passenger seat. “Hey Ro,” he said.

“You’re such a crazy bastard. I love you.” Remus cracked a smile and used Roman’s steadying arm to get into a bit more of a secure position even though the car was still swerving and bouncing madly. Who knew Logan had a bonkers racecar driver somewhere in him? Remus leaned his head against the car door and finally breathed.

Want to keep reading? Click below!

AO3 Part 6

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

We Do This To Live Ch. 7

Chapter Seven

Summary: On Earth-198742, there are no heroes. There’s humans. There’s mutants. There are even some that fall somewhere between. But when Boliver Trask manages to get the Sentinel program signed, it’s up to a thief and her brilliant sister to find those that still believe in something more - something good. And maybe, along the way, they’ll get the chance to save mutant kind.

Word Count: 2639 words

Warnings: Blood, treating mutant like an animal, human testing, emotional shit - that sorta thing?

Masterlist to OCs - Masterlist to Other Works - Marvel Kiddos 

Previous Chapter

-

Blood. Everywhere. That was all she could see. Slowly, her body moved. Twisting and cracking with joints that screamed, begging her to stop. She tasted iron on her tongue. No doubt, there was more blood.

She turned, catching sight of bodies that weren’t her own. “Mama?” She crawled closer, legs unable to provide the strength to walk. Streaks of auburn and white were enough to prove her fears right.

There was her mom. Bloody and cold.

A sob racked her shoulders, caught in her throat. All she wanted was to scream. What happened? How?

“Mama,” she croaked. “Wake up. Sil vous plait, wake up!”

Wake up.

She jerked, spine bending in an awkward sort of way.

Wake up.

Another jolt forced her body, twisting it away from her mother. Her spine felt like it was on fire. There was more iron. More blood.

Wake up!

Geneva’s body spasmed, eyes forced open. Blinding light made her try to close them again, but to no avail. Fingers prodded her eyelids, forcing them open as a light flashed across her pupils.

She couldn’t move. Her head felt stiff. Something kept her neck in place.

“I wouldn’t move too much, Miss Lebeau.”

That familiar voice filled her ears, echoing. Bouncing around in her head and making it hard to recall anything else. But as his words rattled around in her skull, the familiar pinch against her neck reminded her of why she couldn’t move.

The needle In her neck. The weight of metal around it. It was so heavy.

Her eyes flitted to his, nostrils flaring and gaze steely. Though he was still a blur – she didn’t care.

Boliver Trask’s face was seared into her brain forever.

He chuckled, amazed by her resilience. “There you are. Finally joined the living I see.”

She wanted to say something. Wanted to snap, growl, and remind him that she was strong, damn it. She was capable. But the heavy weight of metal on her tongue kept her silent.

She wanted to move. She wanted to fight and break free and show everyone that mutants are more than capable. They are determined. And yet her muscles refused to even budge.

“I wanted to tell you that your mutation has been truly remarkable. A gift for us to learn from.” He brushed her wild curls out of her face, letting them cascade over the edges of the table. “And we have been learning. Nothing has gone to waste.”

Fear struck hard, twisting in her gut and seeping into her bones. What could they have learned that she didn’t know?

What did his pokes and prodding uncover?

“Enough of that.” He grabbed a cloth from the nearby tray, wiping at the corners of her eyes. “There’s no need for tears.”

That scared her all the more. She didn’t realize - When did she start crying?

“It’s taken much longer than we anticipated to even scratch the surface of what mutations mean. You having volunteered…“

Volunteer. That was bullshit. They both knew that.

“Well, it provided us with the ability to discover. Homo sapiens owe you a great deal of gratitude.”

Geneva wanted to fry him. She wanted to see his veins turn black from her powers. She wanted to watch as his eardrums burst and eyes popped. She wanted him to suffer.

“Oh, now stop that.” He swatted at her hands, prying her curled fingers out of her palm and wiping away the blood. Crescent shaped marks would heal eventually. “You have our thanks. Now, we are going to move you and get you set up in a new room. It will be different. If you promise to behave, I’ll remove the bit from your mouth. I just can’t have a repeat of what happened with Doctor Rice.”

If she could have, Geneva would have smirked. She remembered that man. Creepy face. Creepy smile. Satisfied – no, pleasured – by seeing mutants in pain. She remembered how good it felt to almost bite off his thumb. Bone was the only thing that had gotten in her way.

He shouldn’t have forced his digits in her mouth anyway.

But she was tired. So tired of the bit. Of the collar. Of the restraints and the needles.

Maybe it was time to rest.

Boliver tilted his head, watching her curiously. Just by the look in her eyes, he could tell she was trying to figure out her choices. “Will you cooperate this time? Blink twice for yes and once for no.”

She held his gaze for a long while, hating the idea of giving in to what he wanted. But the truth of the matter was, she didn’t even know how long she had been here. What about her parents? What about Marie?

If she played his game, maybe she would get to find out.

She blinked –

Once.

Twice.

--

Marie jerked away. Her chair rolled across the room, startled by her rough movements. She groaned softly, rubbing at her eyes and willing sleep away. What time was it?

“Glad to see you’re awake, Doll.”

She looked up. Dark strands of hair fell, hiding her face and yet still incapable of concealing her surprise. She had grown so used to being along down here, really only visited by Shuri, that seeing someone else in the room seemed…almost wrong. Marie had only been around Bucky a handful of times. The last time they spoke was maybe a week ago. Probably more. She wasn’t like Shuri. She was too quiet. Not vocal enough to make a friend.

Besides, she didn’t have time for those.

“What are y’doin’ in here?” Her voice was quiet, confused. Marie didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but it almost angered her to see someone invading her space. Making a joke of her mission. “Didn’t Shuri say I ’ave privacy?”

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his smile. He had heard quite a bit about the Cajun in front of him. Though she seemed determined to push away any and everyone, Shuri had spoken highly of her brains and sheer will. The stories – it reminded him of Bruce. Steve a little too. But the longer he had gone with only ever seeing her in this room…it worried him.

She was young.

The weight of the world was on her shoulders and she refused to share it with anyone. Even though she didn’t have to bear it alone.

“C’mon. I want to get you out of here.”

Marie raised a brow. She gave him an almost bored sort of look before pulling the chair back to its place at her desk. She had no intention of listening to him.

Bucky smirked.

Oh, he was going to like getting to be her friend.

Scrolling through the articles that had her falling asleep in the first place, Marie hadn’t noticed him come up behind her. She yelped when the chair jerked, clinging to the arms as it moved swiftly across the room. “Merde!” Marie looked up, yanking her hoodie off her head and shooting Bucky a look that could kill. “Let go o’my chair!”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’, his Brooklyn accent a sharp contrast to her own tongue.

He was infuriating and he had been in her presence less than five minutes.

“Y’only got une arm. Could beat ya up if I wanted.”

“Now that’s just discrimination, don’t ya think?” Bucky spun the chair in front of him, pushing her out of the room.

Marie didn’t say anything. She tucked her legs into the chair and watched as rooms passed them by. She tugged at her hoodie, hiding her legs underneath the fabric. Here and there, servants would pass by and watch the scene with raised brows but no comments. Still, there judgement made her slink further in her chair. “Where are we goin’,” she asked as he pulled her onto the elevator.

“Your room. You stink and need a shower.”

“Excuze moi, mas y’don’t know me, Barnes.” Marie leapt out of the chair when the elevator doors finally closed. She spun towards him, legs a little shaky from lack of use. “Y’known moi all o’five minutes and y’tryin’ to boss m‘round?”

“Marie.”

Her outburst fell silent. She watched as he pressed the button, distrust shining bright in her eyes. She didn’t understand.

“You’re right. I don’t know you. But I know what you’re feelin’.” He leaned against the wall, surprising her when it wasn’t pity that shown in his features. No, it was sympathy. Respect. “I know that guilt. That desperation. I used to feel those things so much that it nearly killed me. I knew a lot of people that lived with those feelings day after day.”

Slowly, the floors crept by. She didn’t say anything. Simply listening.

“Shuri encouraged your stubbornness and determination. And I respect that you have such a strong will to find your cousin, but you need help. You need someone to tell you when it’s time to take a break.”

Marie crossed her arms over her chest, her chin tucked down and lip quivering. Finally, she admitted, “That used t’be Gen.”

Bucky tilted his head. “Your cousin? She used to - ?“

Marie nodded. “Gen’s everyt’in’ I’m not. She’s the one who used t’tell moi t’breathe. “Relax, everyt’in’ will work itself out.”” The smallest smile tugged at her lips as she roughly wiped away tears on her cheeks. “Her powers have her buzzin’ wit’ energy. She can never stop, but she always seems t’know when ot’er people need to.”

Bucky smiled. “She sounds like she means a lot to you.”

Marie shook her head. “Not a lot.” The bell dinged and the doors parted. She didn’t look at Bucky when she admitted, “Everyt’in’. She means everyt’in’ t’moi.”

Bucky watched her step off the elevator, following after her. He knew what it meant to have someone mean that much. Hell, for him it was Steve. And he had lost that person that meant everything.

He couldn’t let the same happen to Marie.

“What’s the plan?”

Bucky blinked, realizing she was talking to him. Her raised brow and unimpressed look could have made anyone who wasn’t on the receiving end laugh. She was a kid and yet the most intimidating person he had ever laid eyes on. “I was thinking you get a shower, change of clothes, and we get you out of here for a bit. I know how important it is to find her, but - ”

“If it were Steve, would y’walk away?”

Bucky faltered, his sentence dying on his lips.

How did she know about Steve?

Seeming to read to his mind, Marie elaborated. “I’m from a guild o’ t’ieves, Barnes. Gettin’ information is all I know how t’do.” She turned towards him fully, shifting from one leg to the other. “So if this were you and Steve…would ya take breaks? Would ya walk away for an hour or two? Hell, would he?”

Bucky was silent for a moment before he shook his head no. “Never.”

“Then don’t ask for moi t’do th’same. Y’wanna help, help. But don’t feed m’some bullshit you’d never listen to if ya were me.”

A smirk. Understanding once more. “Okay. Fair enough. But then you’re going to let me help. Alright?”

There was a moment then. One where Marie truly didn’t know if he would actually help. Then she saw the same determination in his eyes that was always in hers. “Ca va.” Then she slipped in her room, the door shutting behind her.

Bucky slumped against the wall just across, waiting. Okay. It was a step. One he could very well work with.

But damn if she wasn’t as stubborn as a familiar blonde he’d known for the better part of his life.

--

When Geneva woke again, she was no longer strapped to a table. Her neck still felt heavy, but not quite as stiff. She blinked once…twice…a third time before finally her eyes began adjusting to the harsh fluorescents.

She missed the days when she could feel their energy buzzing against her skin.

Looking away from the ceiling, her gaze settled on the bars across from her. It was a door. She could pick it easily. Really, staring at it now she found herself identifying the mechanisms, how long it would take, and what tools she would need.

It was part of her job. Part of who she was.

She moved to stand, craving the days when she could use her legs. It was then she realized that she couldn’t. Her eyes drifted to her newest confinement.

A chair. Her arms and shines were cuffed, hands and feet enclosed in something she didn’t quite understanding. It looked…old fashioned.

Medieval.

Cruel.

A small hum filled her ears. Finally, something she recognized from her powers.

She jerked, spine threatening to snap in two as a rush of energy forced her heart to skip a beat. Her head pressed against the metal headrest, jaw clenching.

They had turned her collar off.

Her veins shone through her skin, glowing a brilliant gold that no doubt matched her eyes.

It disappeared under the cuffs.

The humming grew louder, turning into a sharp whine as the lights flickered brighter.

It was then that Geneva understood that they were using her to power the building.

It hit her too hard. Too fast. Realization that she was a pawn. Her powers threatened to make her heart burst. Finally, she felt whole again with her powers. Yet what was the cost? They could use her. And not only could they, but they were. Happily. Whole heartedly. Without a care that she was still a person.

She still existed past her mutation.

After what felt like hours, her powers settled. The glow was still there, though not as bright, and Geneva’s chest was heaving with tired breath. She was so exhausted.

She should’ve said no.

Emotions hit her one after the other. Far too fast for her to be able to process. It made her ache in every sort of bitter way that she couldn’t stand. Sniffling, Geneva didn’t care that her cheeks would burn. She couldn’t bring herself to care about the blisters that would come. She let the tears fall. She needed to cry.

“Hey, you have to breathe.”

Geneva didn’t say anything. She didn’t look. It was probably a doctor or nurse making sure their test worked.

“Hey, you need to find a way to calm down. Please. I know it’s hard, but they’re far more satisfied when they see they broke you.”

Geneva sniffled, nodding stiffly. She forced herself to look. The person was male. She could tell from his voice. But his cell was dark, covered in shadows. If they hadn’t shut off her powers again, then she could see him. Her voice, rough from lack of use, sounded foreign to her own ears as she asked, “Who are you?”

He chuckled. She heard feet scrape against the floor and a small wheeze of breath. Was the guy okay? Inching closer to his cell door, scrawny hands braced against the bars. She watched him dip his head towards the light between their cells. Sandy blonde hair and kind, bright, blue eyes were the first things she noticed.

But then she recognized a bit more. Photos from a file she had stolen so many years ago.

“You’re Cap’n America.”

Another wry laugh. It seemed he hadn’t heard that name in quite some time. And judging by his lack of muscles, he no longer bore the title. He pressed his forehead against the bars. “My friends call me Steve.”

Geneva nodded. She took in his frame – no terrifying height. No never ending lines of muscle. Just…Steve. For the first time in a long time, she smiled. A friend. She could use one of those.

But she had to be honest – “I t’ought ya were bigger.”

--

Permanent Tags:

@butcherofblackwater​

[eerythingisshaka]

Could you ever do a T’Challa x Okoye??

I don’t know if this is even close to what you may have wanted, but it’s what I wanted to do now.  Here’s a one off

“Prince T’Challa, they are ready for you whenever you are,” Zuri informs T’Challa as he finishes getting ready.  T’Challa getting dressed wasn’t what was taking most of the time, since he only had to wear his ceremonial sparring shorts.  However, the Royal Barber was taking his time in order to ensure each edge of his regal hairline had a sharp enough edge to slice an opponent.

“I hear you Zuri, just a few more moments.  Ah, can you get a little more off of my neck?”  T’Challa requests humbly as the barber nods knowingly, laying his head back to apply cream and whisk away the extra hair carefully.

Zuri tightens his jaw, but speaks evenly.  “This is not a contest for appearance, Prince, but a simple interview process for your personal guard.  Should you not be practicing your sparring?”

T’Challa closes his eyes under the pressure of the blade.  “I have done that a thousand times leading up to now, Zuri.  That is no problem, just make sure they are prepared for me, eh?”

Zuri groans with annoyance.  “You should have practiced 10,000 times.  These people are trained to guard Wakanda with their lives, are you pretending this is not important?”

The barber finishes wiping down and soothing T’Challa’s fresh shaven skin, sweeping off the stray clumps of hair and removing the cape.  

As T’Challa peers at himself in his full body mirror, he says, “Zuri, of course I understand the importance of today, but you are acting as if I am going off to war.”  He walks over to clap Zuri on the shoulder, beaming.  “This will all in good fun, don’t worry.”

Approaching Warrior Falls, the sun sits high above them, reflecting glints of light off the water pooling around their ankles.  Zuri welcomes the participating Dora Milaje for showing up to train and volunteer their time.  

“You are all here in order for the chance to be the right hand of our upcoming heir to the throne, be that he has no challengers at the time.  Ayo, I extend my greatest thanks to you for stepping in at the untimely death of our King T’Chaka.”

Ayo salutes with crossed arms solemnly.

Zuri nods.  “Now, at this time I present to you, Prince T’Challa.  The next in line through royal blood.” 

With a wave of his hand T’Challa steps out in his glory, body packed with muscle that begs his audience to test his strength.  He peers over the 6 Dora Milaje who are present that salute him.

“Thank you, Zuri.  And thank you all for being here at this time.  It is a bit unorthodox for us to be holding a try out for my General but we are in such a situation for it.  My father’ sudden and unscrupulous attack on his life has left a hole in all of us but we know that Wakanda never dies, as we all fated to.”

T’Challa pauses in silence to revel in his loss.  This is one of his first motions to move on since losing him and it is proving to be heavy to get through.

“Now as for what we are all here for.  Today you will be earning a spot for my personal guard, General of the Dora Milaje.  This person should possess every aspect of being a Dora, times a thousand.  Serve your country and your King, in that order.  But first, I want to see how you fight.  If you can take on myself, you have a good chance at others who dare to strike.”

T’Challa looks over the line up and points to one.  “You.  Let’s start.”

One by one T’Challa spars through the line up of Dora, splashing into the ground and pinning them effortlessly into submission.  By the fifth participant, T’Challa was shaking his head.

“This isn’t what I expected, Zuri,”  T’Challa says to the side of him as he dries himself off.

“You are being too rough with them.  These are exceptional warriors, but you are beating them like they are criminals.”

“If criminals like the one I had to come across to avenge my father come here, they MUST be ready.  Yes, they are fine fighters, but the world is equipped with much bigger foes then we have yet to see.  This is just disappointing.”

“You still have one more,”  Zuri reminds him.  T’Challa turns to see one Dora left, twirling her staff as she waits.

T’Challa looks from her to Zuri.  “Fine.  But after this, I will have to flesh out a whole new training program in order to ready them for any kind of attack.”

Zuri nods wordlessly, taking the towel from T’Challa as he walks over to the remaining Dora.  

“You there!  Let’s see what you got!”  T’Challa bellows, leaning into a fighting stance.

She continues to twirl her staff.  “Should I put away my weapon, Prince T’Challa?”

T’Challa waves her off.  “I will leave that up to you.  It didn’t help them much.”

If T’Challa was paying attention, he would’ve noticed her smirk, followed by the tight twirl of her body as she holds the staff perpendicular to her neck, creating a deadly pinwheel effect. 

T’Challa rolls back away, stumbling awkwardly.

“That’s new,”  he says cautiously. Seeing as she favors her staff, he maneuvers to sweep her legs, which she sees coming a mile away, jumping over him and using her staff like a pole vault to get her behind him.  She brings her staff sideways in front of him to attempt to subdue, but he braces for it, swinging her.  However she lands on her feet.

“No staff, now,”  T’Challa demands.

He can barely tell over the roar of the falls, but she may have scoffed at this development.

“Need a towel, Prince T’Challa?”  Zuri asks in a sarcastic tone.  T’Challa ignores him and the Dora sticks her staff into the ground and walks back confidently.  Slow and steady with each step, eyes never leaving each other, her and T’Challa begin an ardent sparring that even livened the defeated Dora sitting on the sidelines, chanting her name, “Okoye! Okoye!”

T’Challa can’t help but feel a little rattled by not being the crowd favorite.  Okoye achieves the ankle sweep T’Challa once tried and binds his legs with hers to form an ankle lock.  T’Challa grimaces in pain as his foot is twisted, grasping at the earth around him for anything.

“You must tap out, T’Challa!  I believe she may take your foot as a trophy otherwise!’

T’Challa grits his teeth and endures as long as he can, even attempting to drag his body with hers along the rocky, slick ground but she never shakes him.  Instead, she just adds on pressure.

T’Challa splashes to end the torture, which she does with a flourish.  Rolling out to standing she graciously takes a knee before Prince T’Challa which he ignores, limping away.  

Later that evening, T’Challa nurses his pride with a view from a high point in a field.  The sun is just setting as the nocturnal wildlife begins to stir.

“Prince T’Challa,”  a voice calls behind him.  

He comes quickly to a standing.  “Why are you walking around so quietly?”

Okoye says, “I am only walking.  Should I change how I do it?”

T’Challa shakes his head.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  But why are you here now?”

“Zuri thought it would be good to apologize in advance of your decision for General.”

“You didn’t want to yourself?”  T’Challa asks.

“I don’t think it is appropriate to apologize, no.  But I won’t neglect the advice of a royal adviser.”

“Well, I don’t need disingenuous apologies either,” T’Challa says, holding his hands behind himself.

Okoye nods.  “We are in agreement then.  I will not disturb you further.”

“No, you are not disturbing me.  I am glad you came though.  Why is your fighting style so different from the others?”

“Practice,” Okoye says curtly.

“Ehh, come on.  There must be a secret.  No one came nearly as close to beating me as you did.”

Okoye mulls over something in her head.  “There may have been a consensus to be easy on you for the sake of you mourning the King.”

T’Challa looks away puzzled.  “They held back out of pity for me?  I have never heard of anything like that.  So I wasn’t that good?”

Okoye smirks.  “With all due respect, Prince, you have a lot of training to do.  You will be fine once you acquire the throne.”

T’Challa isn’t able to believe but accepts the facts.  “The Dora are the fiercest warriors known to Wakanda and beyond, so I guess Zuri was right.  I need to practice 10,000 times more.  But Okoye, you tell them not to do something so foolish again.  The loss of a King should not weaken his empire.  We all must continue to fight with all our might.”

Okoye stands erect, nodding.  “I will do that, Prince.”

“Also, tell them that you are the next General for my guard.  If you can teach me some of your moves first.”

Okoye gives him a once over.  “I may be able to teach you something.  But be sure to bring some snow from Jabariland to settle your wounds after.”

[vulpinmusings]

Letters from Buxcord #9: The Thing in the Lab

Been a while, but here’s a Monster of the Week adventure write-up.

Samantha,

Lea and Penn have been cured of potential lycanthropy, and Piper has an amulet to suppress the werewolf rage.  I’m pretty sure I built and empowered it correctly, but naturally we’ll have to wait until the next full moon to be sure.

Mr. Penn is beginning to worry me; something has sparked an intense interest in him regarding end-of-the-world scenarios and the demon sealed in that one tree. He’s also…  Well, let me describe out our latest misadventure for background before I start speculating.

Lea called me up in the middle of the night to report that she’d just received a desperate call from a worker at Professor Thomas’s lab, the bioengineering place that produced the Santa-sqautch and  such. The worker was in a panic, and Lea had heard some kind of unearthly screeching in the background before the call went dead.  I hastened out of bed and made my way to the lab as quickly as possible, hoping that whatever new monstrosity had accidentally been created wouldn’t escape into the wild before I got there.  Lea was already at the lab when I arrived, naturally, but Penn was also there of his own accord and had apparently arrived even before Lea had, coincidentally as he’d been trying to locate the boundaries of the outermost barrier of the Demon Tree.

That coincidence on its own wouldn’t have meant anything, as it fit with the rest of Penn’s recent behavior.  However, when we discovered that the entrance to the lab was mechanically sealed, Penn managed to wrench the shutter open by raw physical strength, a feat far beyond what a human is capable of.  Given the urgency of the situation, I didn’t question that act out loud then.

The front room of the lab looked like something had done a thorough rampage before leaving; workstations were smashed, the walls looked like they’d been clawed, and what appeared to be blood was trailing out of a broken vent.

A little ways farther in, we found a lady scientist taking cover under some machines in a glass-walled lab.  Just as we were going inside to question her, the first of what would turn out to be multiple monstrosities burst out a nearby vent.  Lea and the scientist managed to hide, but Penn and I were caught in the open.  The creatures are difficult to describe. Imagine a blob of living meat festooned with fangs, tentacles, beaks, and eyes in no particular arrangement.  This first thing targeted me, and I tried to fend it off with lightning and a Tangler, which is simply slithered out of.  Penn tried to draw its attention, but besides a lingering stare the Thing paid him no mind, even when Penn dropped a part of the ceiling on it with blasting powder.  I tried a blast of fire, which did little appreciable damage but frightened the thing into a retreat.

During the fight, Lea had been trying to coax the scientist into telling her what was going on, but the poor lady was too hysterical to speak.  Lea had to resort to using her Faerie mental powers to force the scientist to calm down and answer questions.  The lady didn’t know much, only that a blob-thing had suddenly burst from the vents and converted on of her co-workers into another instance of itself with a mere touch.  She suspected it originated from one of the experiment rooms, and provided a map of the lab before going to hide again rather than risk leading one of the things to the exit Penn had wrenched open.

Without further incident, we located the room where the blob-thing had been created.  It was as much a wreck as the rest of the lab, although the various other experimental bio-forms floating in tubes along one wall had not been touched.  I found a computer that still in working order, with a note-taking program open.  The notes belonged to a lab employee named Colin, who expressed frustration at Professor Thomas’ refusal to approve certain experiments Colin wanted to try.  So, Colin decided to just steal some biological material and start synthesizing a monster anyway.  The original blob-thing was the result of combining the DNA of a kraken, starfish, synthetic Blood of the Ancients, and some of the skin Nollthep had shed during the basilisk incident and I had given to Thomas as payment for griffon tears.

Keep that last component in mind going forward.

Colin’s notes went on to detail some experiments he’d performed on his creation, namely testing its reaction to temperature.  Blob-thing was noted to have an adverse reaction to the cold, and given the abrupt way the notes ended, it appeared it really disliked rapid changes in temperature and had gone on the rampage.

Penn, Lea, and I spent a lot of time debating how to proceed, given that there could be at least three blob-things in the lab – the original, the lady scientist’s converted co-worker, and most likely Colin – that could travel through the ventilation system and which we could not safely touch. We finally settled on trying to herd the things into the cryo-storage room in the lab’s lowest level for containment, and then blast them with high heat if necessary.

No sooner had we agreed to the plan, than the second blob-thing made itself known by banging around in the vents overhead.  We tried to leave quietly, but I slipped on a puddle of blood and fell loudly into a bit of equipment.  Blob-thing #2 popped out of the vent and started advancing.  This one had a more humanoid shape, but was still sporting eyes and mouths where they don’t belong.  In a bit of panic, I botched a spell that should have conjured a wall of ice between me and the thing but instead trapped Lea’s feet in ice.  Blob-thing grabbed my leg with a tentacle, but fortunately only touched my pants.

Lea naturally didn’t react well to suddenly being restrained, and she instinctively reached out for help with her magic, summoning a horde of rats and insects from cracks to swarm the blob-thing.  While the thing was distracted, I threw up a barrier between it and me, severing the tentacle holding me.  The tentacle fell off, and almost immediately began budding and growing into its own independent blob-thing.  The starfish DNA at work, obviously.

Penn pulled a mace from his coat and, before anyone could determine his intentions, brought it down on the ice holding Lea’s feet, freeing her but also probably breaking some bones.  Lea started levitating to compensate for the wound and tried to help me regain my footing, only for the blob-thing to grab her.  I blasted the thing with an ice spell to make it back off, and the three of us fled the room and made for the stairs.

Down on the lowest floor, we encountered the third and largest of the blob-things, which was almost large enough to block the corridor completely.  Penn abruptly proposed a change to the plan: rather than try to corral and freeze the thing, we should just burn them all out. I argued that that risked destroying the whole lab, but Penn paid me no mind and rushed for the room with the building’s boiler and gas main.  He had to get past the blob to do so, but it let him pass without any trouble whatsoever.

Resigned to the inevitable, Lea volunteered to search the lab and evacuate any survivors while I kept the big blob busy.  Lea had to fly over the blob, and as she did so it scratched her with a tentacle.  Then it came after me, but a blast of ice kept it at bay.  

As I was trying to figure out how to get past the blob and catch up to Lea, Penn emerged from the boiler room and estimated we had about ten minutes before the gas leak reached critical air mixture.    He then told the blob off as it readied to attack me again, and it actually listened to him and moved aside.  As I ran by and headed for the other stairs, I heard Penn continue to speak to the blob, telling it to gather the other blob-things and then stay put.  Again, it seemed to obey him.

Running up the stairs, I eventually found Lea.  She’d found most of the lab staff holed up in a panic room, confirmed the death of Darwin, and had even managed to get back to the lady scientist we’d first found and escort her to the panic room, all while resisting the mutation caused by the big blob’s touch.  I took a chance on Weaving a spell to undo the mutation, and actually pulled it off without even leaving a scar.

Penn took his time catching up, and so when he finally arrived the three of us just had enough to time to get out of the lab before the gas ignited (presumably off some source Penn had arranged), while the scientists remained in the sealed panic room and hoped for the best.

The news the next day reported a minor earthquake caused by the lab’s explosion, and when Lea went to check on things she found signs that the people had gotten out safely and no indication that the blob-things had.

Not the cleanest ending to a crisis, but by this point I had more pressing concerns.  Namely, why the blob-things didn’t seem to mind Penn’s presence and had even listened to his commands.

Combine that with the fact that he was already at the lab despite neither me nor Lea calling him about it, the extreme strength he displayed in opening the door, and that the blob-things were made partly from Nollthep material.  I suspected, no, still suspect that Penn has some connection to Nollthep.  Might even be Nollthep in a disguise, crazy as that sounds.

I’ve had a talk with Penn.  He claims confusion as to why the blob-things behaved as they did and says it may have been due to an unknown effect from one of the many talismans he carries on his person.  But, in that same conversation I discovered he’d… adopted a small blob-thing, and as I left the diner I saw Penn’s dog standing across the street staring my way in a very disconcerting manner.

Penn’s hiding something, but I’m going to be more cautious in getting the truth out of him than I was in confronting Nollthep.  Somehow, I have to convince him that, for all my hard edges, I’m someone he can trust with his problems. If there are problems.

Possibly just paranoid,

Ash

[myaekingheart]

117. Proving Grounds

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               Approaching the 44th Training Ground felt like a death sentence—no wonder it was aptly named the Forest of Death. Rei chewed the inside of her cheek anxiously as she followed her team, studying their every move as they went. Morning had come far too quickly and she was left scared and unsure, constantly contemplating the decision she now had to make. She wasn’t sure if she could do this.

               Rei’s head pounded as she and her protegees stood attention in the hokage office that morning, prepared to receive instruction for their final test. This was what their training in Ishoku would all boil down to: the moment to prove their worth, that the scrapes and bruises and overflow of knowledge actually amounted to something. Lady Tsunade looked upon them proudly and critically, with a twinge of stoic concern in her eyes. She knew these final exams were rigorous, as they needed to be, and that Rei would not go easy on them but she hoped that in doing so, these new recruits would shed their seemingly stubborn naivete. That Rei would push them to their limits and ingrain the importance of mastery into their heads, just as Kakashi did for her. One false move and you’re dead.

               “For your final exam” she had begun, “You will be put through a simulation of a common ANBU mission. Together, you will track and capture a highly dangerous traitor-nin and return him unharmed to the front gates of the 44th Training Ground. If you cannot handle this, then there is no way you will ever survive in the field, understood?”

               Hitsuji, the nerdy one, cleared his throat and raised his hand shyly. “So what are the requirements? Shouldn’t we have some sort of strategy? What is our plan of attack?”

               “Whatever tactics you use will be up to you” Lady Tsunade replied flippantly, tilting her head towards Rei. “I presume your captain will lead you dutifully just as if this were a real mission, which I suggest you approach this as.”

               A small, sour smile touched Rei’s lips as she bid Tsunade goodbye and guided her students to their deaths. Toshio followed closely by her side with Yugao not far behind. In her body language alone, Rei could tell she was skeptical. That she knew there was something strange afoot, that Rei was plotting something ominous behind everyone else’s backs. If only she could figure out what.

               Now that they were here, Rei wasn’t so sure that she could do this—any of it. Something itched within her chest, vivid memories of when she, too, was merely a rookie clouding her vision. What if Kakashi hadn’t been as kind to her? What if she had lost her chance thanks to the selfishness of a superior? But things were completely different now. She knew what she was getting into. She was well-prepared and humbled. Those halcyon days of training were like a completely separate lifetime. She was a captain now. She had been doing this for years and had come so far. She tried to remain calm and collected as they stepped foot into the Forest of Death, with clenched fists and a sharp gaze. Toshio nuzzled her hand reassuringly, as if reminding her that there was nothing that she could not handle.

               Sukui shivered as they halted at the mouth of the forest, looking around uncertainly. “This place gives me the creeps” he muttered.

               “You give me the creeps” Arai scoffed. Sukui frowned and rolled his eyes, clearly displeased with his comrade’s harsh criticism.

               “I heard this is where people go to commit suicide” Hitsuji commented, voice quivering. He wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand, then wiped his hand on his pants awkwardly. His gaze slowly lifted to the sky, to the menacing branches snaking overhead like spindly arms itching to kidnap. Hitsuji recoiled, slumping down with arms wrapped tight around his waist, as if he was trying to shrink himself to the lowest common denominator, to completely disappear.

               “No, you idiot” Kikkake groaned, “That’s Aokigahara. This is where people go to get killed.”

               A small smile, cocky and challenging, touched Arai’s lips as she stepped forward to better view the abyss stretched before them. “What’s the difference?” she asked. “Either way, you’re a goner.”

               Clearing her throat, Rei redirected the group’s attention as she produced a small photograph from her back pouch. “Alright, no more wasting time” she began. She held the photo up for everyone to see, depicting a young, nondescript man—another ANBU, a volunteer. Rei could never understand why anyone would want to waste their time volunteering for training exercises like this but it likely paid well and was easy work so the allure was strong. “This is who you’re searching for. Get a good look now because I’m only going to show you this photo once.”

               Sukui blinked, chewing his lower lip anxiously, before slowly raising his hand. Yugao motioned for him to speak. “What if I’m face-blind?”

               Rei furrowed her brows. “Face-blind?” she repeated.

               Sukui nodded. “I can’t remember faces. What am I supposed to do if I can’t remember his face?”

               “How the fuck did you get through the training program if you can’t remember a godddamn face?” Rei asked, voice sharp and unforgiving. Sukui dropped his eyes to the ground, as if he was not willing to admit that he may have cheated. When he stalled to give a verbal answer, however, Rei swatted at the air and mumbled, “Well you better get a good hard look then and make yourself remember.”

               “So what’s the plan of attack, boss?” Arai asked sarcastically. She flicked the edge of the photograph with a smirk.

               Rei spluttered, stumbling over her words, before asking sharply, “Okay, first off: what the fuck is that about? Boss? What the fuck, can you not?”

               “Is that not what you are?” Arai asked back. Her voice dripped with disrespect.

               Rubbing her temples, Rei muttered, “It’s not what you said, it’s how you said it.” Deep down, however, she knew this was not worth arguing over. The headache had already started to form the moment she woke up. Any unnecessary debates were only going to worsen it at a much quicker pace. Shaking her head, Rei shoved the confusion and disgust out of her mind. “Whatever, it’s not important” she muttered. “We’ll split off in groups of two and fire signal flares when one of us has tracked down the rogue ninja in question” she explained. “We have twenty four hours to find, capture, and return him so I expect you all to bring your absolute best. And if one of you fails, all of you fail. So in other words: I woulndn’t fuck this up if I were you.”

               Arai, Hitsuji, Kikkake, and Sukui looked to one another in disgust and hesitancy as they considered who to pair off with. Of course Rei and Yugao would be together—as the leaders, it was only natural. They would likely watch from afar as their recruits struggled. Kikkake was the first to step up, grabbing Hitsuji by the arm.

               “Might as well just pick you” he muttered, “seeing as you’ll probably die out there on your own.”

               Arai watched him walk off to where the trees began to thicken, disbelief and frustration painting her face. “Hey, wait a minute! No fair! Why do I get stuck with Mr. Personality here?”

               Sukui scoffed in dramatic offense, slapping a hand to his chest. “Excuse you!” he exclaimed. “I am a delight! Anyone would be lucky to be paired with me! If anyone should be complaining, it should be me about you!”

               And so the headache worsened. Clenching her jaw, Rei whipped a kunai from her holster and launched it between the two of them. It whizzed past Arai’s ear, just barely missing her already choppily cut pigtail, before sticking into the trunk of a tree. “Both of you shut the fuck up!” Rei shouted. “I don’t give a damn who you’re paired with, just suck it up and deal with it.” Then, under her breath, she added sourly, “It’s not like it’ll make a difference anyway.”

               Yugao frowned as she watched her captain turn on her heels, preparing to depart. The new recruits watched with uncertainty, anxiety. “So what now?” Hitsuji asked, nearly clinging to Kikkake’s arm.

               Rei glanced to him over her shoulder, a sickening smirk touching her lips as she fixed her mask to her face and replied, “Just try not to die.” And with that, the three groups separated. They had twenty four hours. There was no way in hell this was going to end well.

               Yugao pursed her lips as she walked alongside Rei in the forest. Off in the distance, she could hear Kikkake and Hitsuji continuing a rather imbalanced argument over which direction they ought to go. Toshio nearly gave Rei and Yugao’s location away in the form of Hitsuji’s allergies, his sneezes interrupting his own anxious but well-informed arguments. It was clear that he was not a man of murder and mayhem but one of calculations and caution. His strength and confidence lacked something to be desired but he made up for it in his sheer intellect. He was nothing short of brilliant—a quality much needed within the ANBU.

               Still, however, it was clear that he and all the others were directionless. Literally. Biting her lip, Yugao asked quietly, “Do you think maybe we’re going a little, I don’t know, hard on them?”

               “Hard on them? Ha!” Rei laughed, shaking her head. “They don’t know the meaning of the word hard. Do you actually think any of these kids have what it takes to the be in the black ops? Be serious.”

               “Well, they have potential” Yugao replied.

               “Potential doesn’t mean shit in the grand scheme of things” Rei said sharply. “Believe me, they have no idea what they’re up against. They’re not prepared for this. Let’s just lead them on for a little bit, make them think they have a chance, before we send them back to where they all came from.”

               There was something so dark and sinister about the way Rei was acting, something within her that Yugao was sure she had not quite seen before. Rei kept her face stony with eyes cold and lips taut, staring straight ahead. There was no mercy in her eyes. It all seemed so ruthless. Yugao didn’t remember things being this difficult when she first started out. What was Rei’s angle? What was she hiding? And was it beneficial to these young ones, or was Rei merely plotting their ultimate destruction? Yugao wasn’t sure which option made her feel sicker. If this was what being a lieutenant required of her, though, then this was nothing like what she had expected at all. She wasn’t so sure this was a job she was fit for. She couldn’t bring herself to willfully lead naïve recruits to their occupational demise. It just didn’t feel right.

               It was nearly sundown when a flare went off in the distance, alerting the others of a potential capture. Rei swallowed one last food pill before slipping her mask back on and diving into action, racing toward the source of the flare with Toshio right by her side. Based on the loud sneezes in the distance, Hitsuji and Kikkake were surely not far behind. Yugao watched her with focused intent, their group seamlessly joining with Hitsuji and Kikkake’s as their paths merged. The fear and anxiety on Hitsuji’s face was evident but Kikkake, on the other hand, matched Rei’s speed as if he was a seasoned ANBU himself. They ventured to nearly the complete other end of the training grounds before reuniting with Sukui and Arai.

               The volunteer missing-nin spared no expense in ensuring that his capture was as challenging as possible. When Rei arrived, he had knocked Sukui to the ground and was struggling with a combative Arai. A rustling in the bushes captured Toshio’s attention, bolting forward to chomp down on the arm of yet another missing-nin, a surprise accomplice. Of course, Rei thought to herself. Anything can happen on a mission; expect the unexpected. There is always backup. The man struggled as Toshio dragged him out into the light but not before he could pull a kunai from his holster and launch it straight for Sukui’s head. As if in slow motion, Sukui’s eyes widened and he winced, bracing himself for the impact. As if he had zero faith in his ability. As if he had already given up. Just as the kunai was about to strike, however, Rei leapt in front of the blade and deflected it with her own. The enemy kunai fell to the ground, glinting in the dusk sun.

               “Captain Rei!” Sukui exclaimed. There were stars in his eyes and a smile spreading across his lips. “My savior! With the body of a goddess, hair like an autumn day, swift and stunning and—”

               “Cut the crap, kid” Rei snapped. She flashed her left hand in his face, almost obnoxiously, as she added, “I’m engaged.” Sukui eyed the ring, blinking and nodding slowly, before hoisting himself up off the ground. Besides, Rei thought to herself, there are far more important things at hand.

               As if reading her mind, Sukui skirted around her and leapt in to help Arai. It was only fair: he had gotten her into this mess. He had fallen ineffectual in her time of need, left her to fight on her own. He had to repay her somehow for his own incompetency. Arai, however, seemed completely uninterested in his help.

               “Arai, my love!” he shouted, drawing a kunai of his own. “Allow me to fight by your side! An honor, a privilege, to just be near someone as ethereal as you! An Amazon! A goddess! Truly a—”

               Without even thinking, Arai whipped around and slapped Sukui out of the way. “Don’t even try it, you little cretin” she hissed. “Besides, I’ve got a boyfriend who could melt you in one glance.”

               Her strike was enough to send Sukui tumbling yet again, only this time he landed right in the lap of the enemy’s accomplice. Literally. Toshio bared his jaws as the man struggled but it was no use. He broke free and took Sukui into a chokehold, blade at the ready.

               “Either you comply” the rogue-nin fighting Arai began, “Or he slits his throat!”

               Arai scoffed and rolled her eyes, crouching to deliver another jab to the gut. “You say that is hfe means anything to me” she replied. “I couldn’t care less if he dies.”

               Across the battlefield, Rei froze. A shiver ran down her spine as lump formed in her throat, choking her. Something inside her began to break.

               Sukui whined, clearly offended, and rightfully so. The threat to his mortality led him to struggle further in the man’s grip as Yugao rushed to his aide. Meanwhile, Kikkake leapt into action to assist Arai much to her displeasure.

               “I can handle this perfectly fine without you” she sneered.

               Kikkake rolled his eyes, shoving her out of the way as he swung hard at the enemy. “I still don’t trust you” he grumbled. “Keep up that attitude and you’re bound to get yourself killed.”

               “That’s what you think” Arai scoffed, fighting her way back into the battle.

               On the sidelines, Hitsuji was having an existential crisis. There had to be some way for him to contribute, but his mind was racing and he was losing his cool. His thoughts were shifting into overdrive, surging with possibilities: both all the ways in which to help and all the ways in which they could die. Unfortunately, the latter was overflowing with far more potential. Percentages and possibilities clouded his vision. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He was of no help. There was nothing he could do.

               Amid his existential crisis, however, Hitsuji made himself a target. Another enemy revealed himself from the shadows, a kunai at the ready, fully prepared to strike. Rei saw the brush shift in her periphery and bolted toward the source of the sound, immobilizing him in one fell swoop. She pulled a thick rope from her back pouch and tied his hands behind his back, glaring at Hitsuji in a silent command to go help the others. If all he was going to do was stand idly by while his comrades were in danger, then he had no place on a battlefield to begin with.

               Yugao’s expertise had immobilized the accomplice and set Sukui free in the meantime. The blonde gasped for air and raked his fingers through his hair, as if clinging to whatever shred of his life he nearly lost.

               Across the field, Arai struggled to shove Kikkake out of the way in what had become a three-way fight. The main enemy scoffed at her immaturity, her determination. She was so desperate to play the hero. It was clear as day to everyone else how obsessed she was with this. Kikkake, however, was not about to let her endanger herself. She was too cocky, too naïve. Her insistence on independence was going to get her slaughtered.

               Once Kikkake finally pinned the enemy down and handcuffed him, Arai pouted and sneered at her comrade sourly. “I could’ve done that myself, you dick” she snapped.

               “Oh really?” Kikkake asked. “Because it doesn’t look like you were getting very far on your own.”

               “Well maybe if you hadn’t stepped in!” Arai shouted.

               Tugging her own capture up to his feet sharply, Rei shouted, “Enough!” and the entire wood fell silent. There was fire in her eyes, a deep and dark fury brimming with the promise of violence. “We’re finished here. You’ve all failed.”

               Failed. That word rang through all of their heads like a siren, wailing and desperate. They were all failures and Rei’s chest ached at the thought of how much she had wasted her own time. In the back of her mind, Arai’s words echoed in her ears. I couldn’t care less if he died. Truly, how dare she. Naru’s corpse flickered in her mind, her ghostly face and dull eyes. Rei had put everyone in danger. Rei had been given authority only to prove that she didn’t deserve it. She had caused her best friend’s death. And now here she was yet again strapped with the responsibility of leading others—others who did not respect the danger in which they were putting themselves in. Rei refused to let anyone else die on her watch. She refused to associate with shinobi who would ever condone such behavior. Her stomach flipped and for a moment, she was convinced she was going to be sick.

               Yugao blinked and clenched her fists at her sides, confused and almost even mildly offended. The exercise was a trainwreck, yes, but she still held a tiny glimmer of faith.

               Sukui fell to his knees and pressed his hands together in prayer as he gazed up at Rei, tears in his eyes. “My beautiful cherry blossom, I never meant to disrespect you!” he whined. “Please give me one more chance, and I promise I can prove my worth!”

               Disappointment painted Kikkake’s face and yet within that disappointment, there was also a sense of acceptance. He did not like to think of himself as a failure but he also understood that they were being judged not as individuals but as a group. And if this group was any indication, they were a bona fide failure at launch. The four of them were never meant to be a team in the first place. If they were not willing to work together, then they needed to be prepared to die together. Kikkake trusted Rei’s judgment and respected her authority on this. He was not going to put up a fight regardless of whether or not his future was on the line.

               If Hitsuji wasn’t already having enough of an existential crisis, his anxiety was overbearing now.  He instinctively grasped Kikkake’s arm as he spaced out, shivering violently. His knees began to buckle and his mind raced with self-deprecating thoughts: thoughts of I did something wrong, I’ve made a terrible mistake, I am terrible, I never should’ve been allowed to do this, I’m not good enough for this, I’m the absolute worst. Kikkake, not one for affection in any sense, wiggled his arm out of the boy’s grasp and pursed his lips. Hitsuji recoiled, wrapping his arms tight around his waist as if to yet again attempt to shrink himself. He was useless. He never should’ve done this. Failure.

               After a long moment of silence, Arai stalked forward, matching Rei’s fury in her gaze. “Excuse you? We failed?” she asked.

               Not wanting to repeat herself, Rei glared toward her protegee and replied through gritted teeth, “You’ve all fucked up. You’re finished. Hang up your masks and get the fuck out of here. You’re not getting another chance.”

               This was unbelievable. Arai wiped the dirt from her face with her glove, seething with rage. Who could’ve ever guessed that she would end up with the absolute most despicable, most heartless, most insufferable ANBU captain? There was nothing in Rei’s chest but a giant black hole. And now here she was, casting them aside as if she didn’t care a single ounce about any of their futures. Something bubbled up deep within Arai’s chest as she watched Rei walk away, an unadulterated anger that she could not repress. “Hey!” she shouted after her. “Who the fuck are you to decide our fates, anyway?”

               Rei didn’t know what else she had expected but Arai’s protests were not at all surprising. She whipped around to find her and Arai’s faces mere inches away from each other. A challenge. And yet in Rei’s eyes, there was a condensed darkness sharp enough to make a man drop dead. Even Arai struggled to remain composed staring back at it now. In such close proximity, it was unavoidable. But Arai could not afford to back down now. She refused to let Rei have the upper hand. She needed to establish her dominance, to prove that she had a place here. That she was worth something.

               And it was clearer than ever to Rei now, staring back at her, that Arai had zero respect for her or the institution in which she was trying to become a part of. She would never last. But who was she to decide their fates? With her voice low like a demon, Rei growled in response, “Your fucking captain.” And with that, she turned and walked off. It was finished.

               As Rei made her way back to the ANBU headquarters, she had expected to feel relieved. After all, isn’t this what she had wanted? To find a way out of this god-awful mess and finally take charge of her own future? She could finally get what she wanted now and focus on the path she had intended to take. She should’ve been happy but if anything, she felt…guilty.

               These new recruits were terrible but they were not irredeemable. They had some inkling of merit, Rei had to at least give them that. Arai was cocky and naïve but she had a strong will, Kikakke’s attitude and self control were on par with seasoned ANBU, Hitsuji’s anxiety was dangerous but he was also wildly brilliant, and Sukui’s charm gave him great potential in manipulation and espionage. Perhaps they could’ve been exemplary with a bit of guidance, but no. That was not Rei’s responsibility. She didn’t want it to be her responsibility. If they were meant to be in the ANBU, then Tsunade would just have to find someone else to lead them. Maybe make Yugao captain instead—she deserved it far more than Rei did, anyway. That was the way things should’ve gone in the first place. This was not the path Rei was meant to follow. This was all one big mistake. Advancing her career was no longer a satisfying prospect. She wanted to be a mother. Her future with Kakashi was all that mattered to her now.

               And still, even as she tried to smile and find a sense of peace in all of this, her heart still sank at the thought of everyone else’s futures. Arai’s angry inquiry echoed in the back of her mind: Who the fuck are you to decide our fates, anyway? Dropping onto a bench in the locker room, Rei heaved a sigh and buried her face in her hands. She was doing the right thing, wasn’t she? She was not obligated to stay in situations that were not for her, that did not feel right. And fuck did this feel wrong. Her stomach twisted into knots at the thought of pursuing this further. No matter what, she was not meant to be a leader. Naru’s fate proved that to her more than anything else. At least she had made an attempt at all. She had tried to keep an open mind, to swallow that jagged little pill despite the sour aftertaste, but her stomach just wouldn’t accept it. These kids were hopeless. But if Rei didn’t lead them, then who would? By backing out, she really was ruining their futures. Without her, they were done for. No one else could fill this role. Toshio settled in beside her and rested his head on her lap in silent comfort.

               Yugao kicked her shoes off as she entered the locker room shortly after. There was something stony and uncertain about her aura. Rei listened intently, trying to decipher her mood based on the sound of her body language and what she could see in her periphery. All she knew for certain was that Yugao was not happy. How could she be? Rei had given up and in the process, dragged Yugao down with her. The new recruits were not the only ones who’s future Rei was ruining.

               Finally, Yugao spoke. “Sounds like someone has already started complaining to the higher-ups about you” she muttered. She flung her gauntlets into her locker, hitting the metal with a sharp clang.

               This was, admittedly, not at all what Rei had expected to hear. Snapping her head up, she met Yugao’s gaze with confusion, perhaps even fear. She had been so preoccupied with how she was ruining others’ futures that she hadn’t stopped to consider the way in which everyone else might ruin hers. A sinking feeling, like a wet stone, lodged itself in the pit of her chest. This was all one big mistake. She never should’ve agreed to this. “W-what happened?” Rei croaked.

               “Apparently Arai was so pissed off, she went straight to Lady Tsunade and gave her a ration of shit. Asked to change teams and everything” Yugao explained. Then, under her breath, she added, “Not that I blame her. I would do the same.”

               There was a certain poison in Yugao’s voice and it was suddenly clear to Rei that she was utterly alone. No one would afford her an ounce of sympathy for what she had done, nor did she even deserve it. She had ruined herself. Forgiveness was a fleeting pipe dream. And if it came to pass that Tsunade decided to fire her after all of this, she would not protest. “Will you?” Rei finally asked.

               Yugao shrugged. “It depends” she replied flippantly.

               “On what?” Rei asked slowly, almost scared of the answer.

               “On whether or not you get your shit together” Yugao snapped.

               Rei dug her nails into the palms of her hands, squeezed her eyes shut tight. “I’m so sorry…” she whispered.

               “You know what? You should be” Yugao fired back. Rei winced at the sharpness in her voice, shrinking herself as if it would minimize the damage. Yugao planted a foot on the bench, rested her forearms on her knee so as to lean down and get a better look at her comrade. “Listen, Rei, I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you but you made a promise to both me and these kids. I had faith in you. We all did. This is a big deal for all of us. I thought you were excited about this. I thought this meant a lot to you. It did to me, and I know it did for those kids. You don’t get to take that away from us. All of us.”

               Toshio whined from underneath the bench, nosing the palm of Rei’s hand. She sucked in a deep breath as she placed her hand on his head and tried to fight the overwhelming nausea and anguish overtaking her now. “I said I was sorry, okay?” she snapped. “What more do you want from me?”

               “I want you to take accountability for your actions, Rei” Yugao replied harshly. “I want you to follow through with the commitment you’ve made rather than run away like a scared little child. Are you going to hide every time something bad happens? Are you always going to try and find a way out? Because that’s the act of a coward.”

               Rei could feel the lump growing in her throat and the hot tears threatening to spill. No matter what, she was not going to cry. She was not going to let herself appear even weaker than she already did. The only thing worse than a coward was a crybaby. Besides, she had already made enough of a mess. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for all of us, okay?” she replied. “Sometimes when you’re put in positions of leadership, you have to make difficult decisions and this just happens to be one of them, alright? If you were in my position, you’d understand.”

               Yugao scoffed, shaking her head. “No, I wouldn’t” she said, “Because if I was captain, I wouldn’t abandon my team when things got a little hard.”

               “Well fine then!” Rei shouted. “Maybe you should be captain, then! If you’re so high and mighty and think it’s so damn fucking easy.”

               “I know it’s not easy!” Yugao shouted back. “But this is not a difficult decision, Rei, it’s a cop-out. Everyone can see it. It’s so damn obvious that you’re just trying to get out of this which leads me to my next question: why did you accept the offer in the first place? Because you know, all of this could’ve been avoided if you were just honest with yourself and admitted that you weren’t ready.”

                Rei clenched her fists at her sides, sucked in a sharp breath. Her stomach turned. Toshio rose to his feet and glared at Yugao in defense of his master. Rei’s voice was low, quiet, restrained. “Because I thought I could do this” she replied. “I thought I could handle this but turns out, I can’t.” There was something new in her words now, something telling. Yugao cocked a brow as she eyed Rei suspiciously. Her true intentions were beginning to clarify. Squeezing her eyes shut tight, Rei continued, “Life threw me a curveball and…I fucking panicked. I got scared. I didn’t know what else to do. But now…now I’m stuck here with something I don’t want. I thought I did, but maybe what I gave up means more to me than what I got instead.”

               “Oh, really?” Yugao asked. She placed her hands on her hips as she studied Rei’s face. She was weepy and vulnerable like a small child with a wet red nose and sickly pallor. Clearly on the verge. How hard was she trying to play the victim here? To garner sympathy for something that was fully her fault? The thought of it all made Yugao sick. “And what exactly did you give up?” she scoffed. “Your late nights eating instant ramen and your ability to go with the flow? You should’ve known that was long gone the minute you started this.”

               It was that insinuation that sent Rei over the edge. What did Yugao take her for? Is that really how she saw her? Pathetic. Rising to her feet, Rei glared and shouted, “We were supposed to have a baby!”

               The entire locker room fell quiet. Mikazuki peered curiously around the corner of the other aisle, blinking despondently. Rei had done exactly what she hoped to avoid: she had caused a scene. And the worst part was that now, in the aftermath of such a massive relief, she didn’t even care. She didn’t give a single fuck if everyone knew the truth now. Let them know. It gave her accountability, anyway.

               It took a moment for Yugao to comprehend what, exactly, Rei had just said. And then it her. A baby. “Oh…” she said softly, eyes wide with shock. She slumped down onto the bench and sucked in a deep breath. “That’s a, uh…that’s sharp turn.”

               “No fucking shit” Rei replied with an incredulous little laugh. She pressed a hand to her stomach, tried to stop her head from spinning. She felt her tears push back harder against her restraint, blurring her vision and choking her voice. “I just…I thought things were okay or something. That we were…secure. Things had gotten quiet. I thought that everything was going to stay the same and that we would have time but…I don’t fucking know.” Rei dropped down onto the bench beside Yugao, raked her fingers through her long, tangled bangs. “It’s like someone ripped me off of one road and shoved me down another. And I know it’s not fair to you or any of those kids but I just…I need a way out. I even…” Rei’s voice cracked here as she considered whether or not she had the strength to reveal her transgressions, her villainous plot. She glanced to Yugao to find that her face had softened considerably. Perhaps the baby epiphany made her far more empathetic. Or perhaps she merely pitied Rei, she wasn’t sure which. “Okay, listen: I truly meant what I said when I said that these kids are not ready for this. They’re cockyand overconfident and honestly pretty fucking stupid. They’ll never make it and I stand firm by that.” Yugao pursed her lips, her eyes glancing across the locker room. As much as she appreciated Rei’s honesty, her harshness lacked something to be desired. The locker door slammed shut but Rei hardly seemed to notice. “I just can’t run the risk of repeating the past with these kids. I can’t stand to put them through the same shit that happened with Naru” Rei explained. “On top of everything else. Just…everything about this was a massive fucking mistake.”

               Naru. The mere mention of her sent an icy shiver down Yugao’s spine. She felt guilty even admitting that she had almost completely forgotten about her. It didn’t seem right—forgetting a fallen comrade like that. It only made sense that those memories had further mounted Rei’s anxiety.

               “But at the same time” Rei continued. Her hands began to shake in her lap, her voice tightening. “I’ve been so fucking selfish. I made excuses because…because I was so damn angry with everything. W-we tried but…it didn’t take. I thought we would have more chances but now…now having a baby is out of the question. Not with a promotion like this. It just didn’t feel right, like I was cheated or something. And I thought…oh god, I feel so sick and dirty. I thought…that I could just grab destiny by the balls and redirect it myself. And that in order to do that…that I’d have to ruin these kids’ lives in the process. T-to fail them on purpose. Block them out a-and refuse them guidance so that they wouldn’t stand a chance. And my god, I fucking hate myself for it. What have I done?”

               By now, Rei no longer cared if she cried. The locker room had since cleared out—it was just the two of them. Rei had far fewer qualms about being vulnerable in only Yugao’s company. After all, she was her lieutenant. The bond they shared was unlike any other in the black ops. She was perhaps even, dare she say, safe.

               “So what are you going to do about it?” Yugao finally asked after a long stretch of silence. “You can’t avoid this forever. You’re going to have to make a decision and fast. Are you in or are you out?”

               Rei shook her head, wrapping her arms around her vacant stomach. “I-I don’t know…” she whispered. There was so much to consider. She had already missed one chance to have a baby. Her body must have known what was around the bend. Her and Kakashi had plenty of time to start a family. They were still young. They could stand to wait. But deep down, Rei wasn’t sure she wanted to. It was almost as if her body was screaming for procreation, she was so hungry for parenthood. She could feel it in her lower stomach, the warm shivers of anticipation. She could feel it in the ache in her heart and the overencompassing fantasies in her head. She had never wanted anything more, and she had never wanted this more than she did right now. But her career…she had already made it this far. She cursed herself for having ever jumped the gun, even though deep down she knew that giving herself more time to consider would only end with her trapped in a torturous, neverending loop. The conflict was o obvious on Rei’s tense face, Yugao couldn’t help but rest a gentle hand on her shoulder. After one more moment of contemplation, Rei slowly nodded. “I don’t know if I’ll ever feel secure in my choices, but I think—”

               Before she could finish her sentence, Toshio leapt to his feet with ears forward and alert. A low growl rose in his throat as he adopted a defensive stance and bolted for the locker room door. And that was when they heard it: the inconsistent banging coming from the hallway, threatening and loud. Yugao and Rei exchanged confused glances before rushing to assess the situation.

                A crowd of other ANBU surrounded the door into the stairwell, watching with bated breath through the tiny window as the sound of the banging amplified. Yugao rested a hand on Mikazuki’s shoulder as she asked, “What the hell is going on?”

               Shaking her head, Mikazuki replied softly, “One of the new recruits is having a meltdown.” Then, locking eyes with Rei, she added, “One of yours.”

               Fuck. Without a second thought, Rei weaved through the crowd, wiping her pathetic tears as she went. Yugao called after her, but Rei couldn’t make out what she was saying. It didn’t matter, anyway.

               Another slam struck the wall as Rei burst into the stairwell. The concrete had begun to crack from the impact. Standing there, bloody knuckles and tear-stained cheeks, was Arai.

               “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Rei shouted, stalking forward. She gripped Arai’s wrist before she could deal another blow. She was strong—stronger than Rei had expected. One more hit and the entire room would likely crumble to dust.

               “Get the fuck off of me!” Arai insisted, squirming in Rei’s grasp. “This is all your fault, anyway!”

               Gritting her teeth, Rei yanked Arai away from the wall and insisted, “Fine, then hit me instead. I know you want to.”

               Arai’s eyes widened, her fingers twitching. Surely she had not expected such a response. She froze for a moment, considering the offer, before clenching her fist. An offer like this was rare, how could she refuse? Besides, why wouldn’t she knock the lights out of the one person who had ruined her future? And yet there was something small and nagging somehow holding her back. Maybe it was Rei’s bloodshot eyes or her willingness to get hit in the first place. As if she was admitting her transgressions and accepting, if not asking for, punishment. Without the protest, pummeling her didn’t quite feel right. It didn’t feel earned or appropriate.

               A long moment passed before Arai ripped her hand out Rei’s grasp and turned to walk away. “I don’t want to waste my energy” she muttered under her breath.

               And maybe that was the end of it all. Maybe Arai had accepted her fate and wanted nothing more to do with it. But that felt so out of character and unresolved. Rei hadn’t even known this woman for very long but she already knew full well that Arai Kawakubo was not one to walk away from a fight. Rei couldn’t bring herself to let her go. Not without an explanation. Not without an apology.

               “Four years ago…” Rei called after her, her cracking voice echoing in the stairwell. She clenched her fists at her sides, locked her pleading eyes on Arai’s back. The blonde paused just in front of the exit door before turning slowly back around. Confusion and curiosity painted her face. What was this woman’s angle? What was Rei trying to pull? The redhead sucked in a deep breath before continuing. “Four years ago I was put in a position of leadership during a mission. Things went south and I lost my best friend that day. She died in my arms because I couldn’t do my job properly. I thought I had moved past the guilt. I thought I could handle being a captain but…it still fucks me up in the head. I panicked. I wanted to get rid of you because I was scared. Because I realized maybe I’m not ready for this, and I…I couldn’t stand to put you all through the same tragic shit that I faced years ago. It’s just…it’s a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Even if they are, in fact, cocky, selfish brats.”

               Arai stood frozen by the door for a long while. She tried to comprehend all of this new information but none of it made much sense to her. “And you’re telling me all of this why?” she asked slowly.

               “Because I felt like maybe you deserved an explanation” Rei replied. “I don’t care if this doesn’t change your opinion of me, if you still try to get me fired or want to find a way to switch teams. I would want to switch teams, too, if I were you.”

               Here, Arai scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Don’t try to level with me. You have no idea.”

               “Oh, fuck. But that’s the thing!” Rei groaned. She threw her head back and dug the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “You think I don’t have a damn clue but I’ve been around this shit a lot longer than you have. You have no fucking idea what’s out there. You have no idea what you’re doing.”

               “Oh yeah, says who?” Arai snapped back.

               “Says me” Rei rebuked. “Regardless of whether you stay on my team or not, you’ve really got to cut that attitude of yours. There are captains out there far worse than me that aren’t going to put up with that shit.”

               “Far worse than someone who would purposely try to flunk their students?” Arai asked. “Yeah, okay.”

               Rei glared and for a moment, she regretted ever trying to sympathize with Arai. She truly was a lost cause. “That’s not the point” Rei replied. “You act like you’re tough shit but you are nothing.”

               “Well maybe I wouldn’t have to have an attitude if I was treated with a little more respect” Arai replied.

               Rolling her eyes, Rei scoffed and shook her head. “And that’s exactly the trouble with you” she replied. “You think you’re entitled to respect right out of the gate but you’re not. You need to give your superiors respect in order to get respect back. Otehrwise you just come off as difficult and bratty and I can guarantee you that no one in the black ops is going to cater to that. Your idea of what this job even is seems to be incredibly misconstrued in the first place.”

               “Then teach me better!” Arai shouted back. “Isn’t that your job anyway?”

               “How the fuck am I supposed to teach you if you never pay attention and always act like you know everything?” Rei shouted in return. “You act like I’m making things difficult for you when you’re the one making things difficult for yourself. Maybe if you tried listening to other people for once in your life, you would actually learn a thing or two about the real world. Why the fuck did you even join the black ops in the first place? What are you trying to accomplish here? Or are you just feeding into your grossly oversized ego?”

               Arai gritted her teeth, growling, “I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t have to tell you anything about me.”

               Rei recoiled and raised her hands in surrender. “Fine then” she replied. “Don’t open up then. That’s your right. I’m not going to force you.”

               Arai’s hand hovered over the doorknob, but something was paralyzing her. She wanted nothing to do with Rei whatsoever. She had presented her excuses, tried to play the victim, and Arai acknowledged her words but that didn’t mean she forgave her. The longer she stood here and prolonged the conversation, the worse things would become. Hadn’t Rei already done enough damage? But somehow things felt different now in that stairwell. The intimacy, the echo of their voices. The constant fear that at any moment, someone will interrupt and ruin the fragility of it all. There was a strange liminality to it, like being underwater or trapped in a lucid dream. None of it felt real and within that, there was a strange sense of trust. The feeling that Arai could perhaps attempt to be open without any repercussions, without anyone ever remembering a word she said. She refused to be betrayed by this false sense of security. Her hand drifted away from the doorknob.

               “The ANBU make good money” she muttered. “Lady Tsunade thought I was good enough. I passed the training. I’m strong and able. I want to help in a way that’s honorable.”

               Rei wasn’t sure what kind of help Arai meant. She was so vague in the presentation of it, but that wasn’t important. Acting on instinct, she scoffed and muttered, “There’s nothing honorable about the work we do here.” The ANBU were elite but they also did perhaps the most dangerous, the most despicable, and the most filthy work of any other Konoha shinobi. They were the agents of retribution, the messengers of hell. The blood on your hands never truly washes away. You can rinse off the physical evidence, but the screams and the lifeless looks on the victims’ faces never leaves you no matter how much time has passed. No, nothing about the ANBU was honorable.

               Clenching her fist, Arai croaked, “I know, and I hate it.” Her hands began to shake and her throat tightened and she cursed herself for feeling like she was going to cry now. “I used to think the ANBU was the ultimate end goal. I wanted to flaunt it like a trophy. Now that I’m here, though…I’m fucking terrified. Anything can happen. You can die in the blink of an eye. I can’t afford something bad happening. I didn’t expect it to be this bad.”

               “It’s only going to get worse from here, kid” Rei replied. “You think this is bad? This is just day one. You haven’t seen anything yet.”

               “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Arai asked, offended.

               “No” Rei said bluntly. “It’s supposed to clue you into the dark reality of what you’ve gotten yourself into. So you have to make a decision as to whether you’re going to stay or leave.”

               Arai nodded slowly, considering everything she was fighting for. Did her desire to progress outweigh her fear? She wasn’t sure. She gritted her teeth as she chewed over her options, envisioned the shame and relief of quitting or the adrenaline and pride of pursuing this further.

               “No one is going to be mad at you if you back out” Rei added, crossing her arms as she awaited the verdict. She wasn’t sure if she was saying that more for Arai’s peace of mind or for her own. She hoped the new recruits would offer her the same sympathy and understanding that she did them but she knew that was a slim chance. “It’s not like you’re giving up. It’s not like you’ve failed. The ANBU isn’t for everyone. An important part of being involved in this is knowing yourself well enough to know where you belong.”

               Pursing her lips, Arai made a tiny noise of affirmation. “How do you know where you belong?” she asked quietly.

               Rei sucked in a deep breath, puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled. The answer wasn’t quite so simple. “I guess it’s just a feeling” she replied. “Right here.” Her hand migrated to her lower stomach and her heart leapt into her throat. “Your gut will guide you where you’re meant to be. Whether that’s here or somewhere else, only you can figure that out, you know?”

               Arai mimicked Rei’s gesture, placing a hand over her stomach with a sigh. If only her gut was easier to read. “I think…” she started slowly. “I think I want to stay here. I want to be in the ANBU. I need to be here. There’s no other choice for me.”

               A soft smile touched Rei’s lips for a moment and she was surprised to find that she was perhaps even proud. She wondered if Arai had felt that same calling that she had, that magnetic pull towards something greater than yourself. Something dangerous and daring and sacrificial. For the first time, she could see that familiar fire in Arai’s eyes, surely fueled by whatever she was fighting to defend. It was a sobering moment, in a way. Rei had perhaps even underestimated herself. She hadn’t expected to be so assuring and wise. Maybe her years of experience were finally amounting to something. Maybe her leadership skills were not as fargone as she had thought. “I’m, uh…I’m glad to hear that” she said quietly.

               “And what about you?” Arai asked. “I overheard what you told Lieutenant Yugao in the locker room. About, uh…” Here, she motioned awkwardly to her lower stomach and made a face. Rei’s cheeks burned bright red as she swatted the air dismissively. It was a conversation she did not want to relive, a topic that she did not want to talk about. At least not with Arai of all people. They were still on questionable terms with one another. “So are you going to kick the bucket or…?”

               “Well, you said you didn’t want me as your captain anymore” Rei reminded her. “I’m sure there are plenty of other ANBU who would be willing to take all of you under their wing.”

               Arai pursed her lips and nodded slowly as she dropped her gaze to the floor. “That’s true” she replied. “But, uh, you know…maybe I jumped the gun a little bit, too.” Rei’s gaze snapped up to meet Arai’s, an anxious curiosity overwhelming her. The blonde quickly rolled her eyes, pouting, trying to act as apathetic as possible. Rei made a mental note that she was a terrible actress. “I mean, I still hate your guts” she assured. “I think you’re a total fucking bitch and you treat us like shit. But…I don’t know, maybe that’s what I need.”

               “Oh yeah?” Rei asked. A sly smile crept across her lips. “So my tough ass tactics did have an effect on your self-entitled ass then, huh?”

               “Don’t get a big head about it” Arai snapped. “It’s just that nobody’s had the guts to kick me in the ass before and I want to see how much longer it takes for me to finally break you.”

               Rei couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, I’d like to see you try!”

               “Just give me a date and a time, boss” Arai smirked. Rei’s eyebrow arched at the nickname and Arai was suddenly overcome with a rare spell of self-consciousness. “Or should I not call you that anymore?” she asked, her voice much quieter and more uncertain now. She knew how much Rei seemed to hate that term, the sassy tone of her voice and seething gaze. Arai had to admit, she was absolutely using it as an insult. Now, however, things were different. Maybe, just maybe, Arai had finally found at least a shred of respect for her captain.

               “You know” Rei replied, fighting the smile tugging at her lips. “I actually think it’s starting to grow on me.”

               “So you’re staying then?” Arai asked.

               Rei dropped her eyes to the ground, licked her lips. “Only for a little while” she replied. She thought of everything she was giving up, of the promise of motherhood and her future with Kakashi. But they had time. This was not the end of the road. It was only a detour. They had all the time in the world to try again. Laughing softly, Rei met Arai’s gaze and added, “I’m kind of curious to see how long it takes you to break me, too.”

               Arai could hardly contain her laughter as she and Rei stood there, suddenly feeling seen and understood. And to think, all it took was five minutes in a filthy stairwell for everything to change.

[malxlawson]

— && guests may mistake me as ( halsey ), but really i am ( amalia 'mal' lawson + cis female + she/her ) and my DOB is ( 8/6/1995 ). i am applying for the ( maintenance manager ) position as part of the EHP and would like to live in suite ( 202 ). i should be hired because i am ( + passionate, charismatic, thorough ), but i can also be ( - prideful, dramatic, argumentative ) at times. personally, i like to ( creating street art, volunteer community work, organizing protests ) when off the clock, but that won’t interfere with work. thank you for your consideration!

aaaand here we come with our favorite revamped heathen! mal hasn’t had quite as much changed - just a nice lil face lift and we love that for her.

before we get super into it: we have a stats page and a pinterest for your viewing pleasure.

going a little heavy on the triggers just because i want to be sure to cover all my bases!! most everything is just a mention, but we gotta be safe kids! take care of yourselves and remember ilysm.

( pregnancy tw, miscarriage tw, police brutality mentions tw, substance abuse tw )

- amalia raelle lawson was born august 6th, 1995 to marshal and cherisse lawson in oakland, california.

- marshal owned a local bbq restaurant and cherisse was an er nurse. both grew up in rough neighborhoods with rough childhoods, but vowed to make their kids’ lives better than their own.

- three years after mal came into their lives, they had a son; jayden.

- from that day on, mal had a best friend and confidant that she’d go to the ends of the earth to keep by her side.

- their childhoods weren’t easy in the way most kids are - their mom worked long hours and their dad spent most of his days at the restaurant. when their parents were home though (if cherisse wasn’t sleeping off a shift change), they spent their time with their community - be it at the restaurant or at block parties - trying to better it in any way they could manage.

- police brutality mention tw despite their efforts, their community was still plagued by all the injustices every other predominantly black community faces. from a young age, mal learned that the justice system wasn’t built to serve her or the people she considered family.

- police brutality mention tw she was six the first time she heard about a family friend being a victim of excessive force; nine when she saw it. for years after that, she saw mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, and cousins coming to mourn their loved ones - either locked up or taken from them too soon.

- instead of becoming numb to these tragedies, a fire was lit in amalia to change the system - even if she had to dismantle it one piece at a time.

- in the mean time, mal found an outlet for her emotions in art - specifically painting. she started with watercolors and crayolas, but once her parents realized her abilities were beyond what they should have been for a kind her age, they put whatever extra they could manage into mal and her passion for art.

- she was fourteen when she was introduced to street art - graffiti, if you want to get technical. his name was trey and amalia was instantly enamored by him. trey ran with a rougher crowd than mal was used to, but he softened around her.

- pregnancy tw they were young, in love, and reckless. she was fifteen when mal found out she was pregnant. while she wasn’t thrilled about becoming another statistic, she was thrilled about the idea of having a child.

- not entirely pleased with the situation, but always willing to support their children, mal’s parents welcomed trey into the family with open arms and began planning what was sure to be a life full of love for the newest addition to the lawson family.

- miscarriage tw three months into the pregnancy, amalia started to experience cramping and spotting. worried it may be something serious, she had her mom take her to the hospital. it was there they confirmed that mal was experiencing a miscarriage.

- everything changed after that. amalia was no longer the girl who wanted to fight the world’s injustices - she was just a girl who wanted to fight the world. she was angry and bitter at everyone and everything.

- substance abuse tw her relationship with trey quickly began to deteriorate and she turned, for the first time, to the rougher crew he hung out with. booze and drugs quickly became a way for mal to cope with the pain she carried around. she started small - cigarettes and pot - before graduating to the harder stuff, like coke and prescription pills.

- substance abuse tw skipping school to get loaded became a regular occurrence and when the truancy officers showed up at the lawson’s front door, her parents sat mal down for an at home intervention. for as much as they yelled and cried and offered treatment, amalia wasn’t hearing any of it. it wasn’t until jayden snuck into her room late one night to ask if he was going to lose mal like one of his friends had lost his older brother that mal realized her actions weren’t only effecting her life.

- miscarriage tw just before her junior year - with the help of her parents - mal decided it was best for her to leave public school and finish the rest of her schooling online. the same time she started online schooling, amalia started painting again. something she hadn’t done since she found out she’d miscarried.

- being able to stay home meant mal had the space and time to heal in her own ways. when she wasn’t doing school work, amalia was painting to help clear her head. it took some time, but she was finally able to tell her parents what she was going through, both mentally and physically.

- miscarriage tw after she miscarried, mal started to suffer from chronic period and pelvic pain, as well as painful intercourse. she’d also been suffering from symptoms of depression, all of which help lead her down the destructive path she’d gone down.

- several doctor trips later, mal was diagnosed with endometriosis and depression and quickly began treatments for both. despite starting treatments for her endometriosis, doctors told mal the likelihood of her conceiving again was highly unlikely. 

- mal hadn’t expected to hear at 16 that biological children may never be in her future and she was devastated, but she had her support system and their love and willingness to do whatever they could for her helped her cope in a much healthier way.

- by seventeen, amalia was feeling like her life was back on track, though drastically different than she’d imagined. she finished her diploma early and began working for her dad in the restaurant; serving, cooking, even helping fix things when they broke down. slowly but surely, mal mended her relationship with her parents and earned back their trust.

- one day, after some kids had vandalized the restaurant, marshal asked mal if she’d help cover the graffiti. jumping at the chance, amalia spent three days finishing her first big piece - which is still her favorite to this day - a portrait of her family and the community that kept the restaurant going. abstract and colorful, full of life and vibrancy, mal’s piece drew a lot of attention and several offers for her to commission other pieces.

- for the next three years, mal worked at the restaurant and took commissions when she could. life seemed normal again. she even reconnected with trey, mending the relationship that had been broken.

- the day trey proposed was the happiest day of mal’s life. she’d been beyond thrilled! after everything they’d been through, he still wanted to be with her. unfortunately, the bliss didn’t last. their engagement abruptly ended and mal decided it was best if she get away for a while, so as to not slip back into destructive patterns.

- a quick google search brought amalia to the malnati website and their employee housing program. applying was a no brainer and a month later she and jayden were packing their bags and moving to chicago.

- she started as a maid and, in the four years she’s been there, has moved up to the maintenance manager position.

hcs!

- when she’s not working, mal’s usually painting in her suite or sketching at one of the many parks in chicago during the day. at night, you’ll find her taking full advantage of chicago’s nightlife. night’s in for mal lawson are few and far between.

- drugs tw she skates a fine line when it comes to sobriety. she’s careful to drink or use just enough to be sure she’ll have a good time, but it’s a slippery slope. in the four years she’s been in chicago, mal’s slowly started doing more and more, telling herself she’s got a handle on it. truth be told, she’s teetering on the edge of a full blown problem again. 

- super into video games, but partial to anything involving zombies. mal loves a zombie - don’t ask me why. she’s usually down to play among us, valorant, fortnight, and is always down for a little animal crossing when she needs something more chill.

- 90′s hip hop & r&b are mal’s shiiiiiit. she’s at her happiest when she’s got a little tupac on in the background.

- also don’t you dare try to tell her he’s not alive in cuba somewhere living his best life. she ain’t havin’ it.

- when she’s angsty/sad/angry her go to playlist is a lot of punk, rock, grunge. especially of the 90′s persuasion. she stays on brand. her favorites are the offspring, nirvana, the foo fighters, soundgarden, stone temple pilots, the smashing pumpkins, sonic youth, and pixies.

- she’s gluten intolerant and vegetarian.

- mal is a cult classic movie kind of gal. donnie darko, pulp fiction, rocky horror are all on her list of favorites. she’s never going to turn down a good horror/thriller marathon, either.

- she plays a little piano and a little guitar. she picked them up after she started online schooling. she finds both relaxing. she’s by no means going to make a career out of it, but it’s fun!

- hella resting bitch face, but she really is super friendly! she just doesn’t always look it.

- don’t test her, though. she’s got attitude for days and she isn’t afraid to let you know what she thinks or how she feels about you. we ain’t got no time for games, okay?! okay.

- amalia has also very much immersed herself in community work since moving to chicago, especially on the south side. if her parents taught her anything growing up, it’s that she should give back the her community as much as she’s able.

- a lot of her street art celebrates women of color and their beauty. 

- not a fan of cops, still. soz pals.

- when it comes to work, she does her best to make the malnati a decent place to work. she’s all about positive reinforcement and making sure she takes care of her employees. she’s not gonna shy away from telling you ya fucked up, though. she’ll say it with love, though, while also calling you a giant pain in her ass. but with love. okay?! okay.

wanted connections!

- hook ups! : mal is a RAGING bisexual and is not at all afraid to make her appreciation for someone’s physical appearance known. just don’t expect to stay the night. once the deed is done you’ve got about thirty seconds to vacate mal’s suite.

- softies! : make. her. soft. give me someone who makes her break her no sleep over rule, pls and thank. she’s a stubborn, pain in the ass, and sassy af but someone who can make her melt? and act like a teenager in love again? all gooey and gross? yuh. pls.

- good influence! : someone she doesn’t have to drink and party with to have a good time! remind her that she misses things when she’s not sober - that the world is still beautiful and inspiring even when she’s not in a drug induced haze.

- chill baes! : drugs tw people mal just ~ v I b E s ~ with! probs smokin’ a decent amount of weed together. 

- protest pals! : people who are also involved in the community and social justice movements. they happily bail each other out of jail (or, more likely, sit in the back of a squad car together) and attend protests together. bc the buddy system. overthrow the government safely ty.

- rivals! : mal’s got a big mouth and some seriously controversial opinions. she’s not afraid to call people out for being ‘wrong’ and calling them...creative names. she’s bound to have a giant list of people who aren’t her biggest fans.

- bad girl’s club : need i say more? give. me. the girl gang. constantly partying and constantly getting into some kind of mischief and leaving a trail of broken hearts as they go. 

if you made it this far, you deserve SEVERAL high fives and literally all my love. ily all v much and uh, yuh. let’s plot pals. :)