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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Impetuous

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SMUT/18+only, cunnilingus, switching, bratting, face-riding, Satoru being Satoru, so he’s chatty & in general the worst

Words: 12,815

“Knock it off,” you huff, doing your best to ignore how your breasts press against the flat planes of his chest. Then his fingers are under your chin, gently tipping your head up and leaning so close that his lips are inches from your own.

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

Notes: this thing has been languishing in my drafts since like, January. because it was my first step away from BNHA i’ve sorta over analyzed it & edited it, likely to death. but anyway, without further ado, here is my first venture into the JJK fandom! thank you for edits & suggestions: @albinoburrito, @kugutsuu, @kogo & everyone else that i’ve forced to look at this thing. love you all sm & ty for putting up with me!

& it’s gojo because of course it fucking is.

Impetuous im·pet·u·ous /imˈpeCH(o͞o)əs/ adjective done quickly

“I hate to be a harbinger of bad news, and I can understand your frustration, but that’s what they asked me to do. Doesn’t matter what continent we’re on, elders are elders. Honestly, I’m a little shocked that this teaching pathway is even an option for him.” Although you speak softly, your voice seems to carry more in these close meeting rooms, clattering off the tatami mats and gleaming leather couches.

Yaga massages the bridge of his nose and adjusts his dark sunglasses before lifting his eyes to yours. “I understand, but I still feel that he would be an asset to our school. As long as his motivations remain pure, that’s all I can ask for, at present.”

“Pure or not,” you continue, lacing your fingers as you cross one leg over the other. “It’s vital to see how he handles himself on these missions. What if he has a student with him? I’ve never seen his fighting style, but I’ve heard he can be reckless. How can he foster confidence and proper growth if he’s not measured on the basics? There’s the additional worry of taking him off of the higher ranked missions. Or, if you elect to keep sending him on them, can he handle both? Can he teach and still be a successful sorcerer and asset?”

“He’ll be expected to do both. He knows this,” Yaga sighs, reaching for his lukewarm cup of tea. “While he’s not known for his conventionality, I don’t think that will interfere with his teaching. As I said, some recent events at the school have helped to illuminate the importance of managing the coming generation. Satoru is confident, and I believe that will translate well to any future students. He’s already taken on some responsibility with young Fushiguro and the boy is doing well under his instruction.”

“Fushiguro?” you ponder. Your school administration and the head elders had given you a list of names, people who represented the top families among Japan’s sorcerers, but you don’t remember seeing a name like Fushiguro among the others.

“He’s related to the Zen’in family,” Yaga explains, spreading his vast hands open as he replaces his tea cup against the low table that rests between the two of you. “So, if I’m understanding correctly, your superiors in America have sent you to Japan to collect a series of reports. One is on the influence of curses and how our alumni comport themselves in the field. The other is the analysis of our teaching styles and to, how did you put it, ‘further diversify your own teaching abilities as a jujutsu educator.’ And, as if that wasn’t possibly enough, to observe our newest teaching candidate, Satoru Gojo.”

“In a nutshell,” you confirm, a smile quirking the edge of your lips. “We’ve got some missions lined up, right?”

“Yes. You will enter the field with Satoru and one other returning alumna, Shoko Ieiri. She’s finished her medical degree and will join our research facilities in the coming weeks.”

“Oh! She’s the one who can use the reverse healing technique! I’ve heard of her.”

“Yes. She was in Satoru’s class. I realize your report is the main aim that you have here, but I would ask that you keep an open mind. While your report is of value to our school, it will not affect my decision on the matter.”

You lean against the stiff cushions of the couch and cock your head at Yaga’s impassive expression. “Of course,” you assure him, noting that nothing in his outward appearance shifts as you give him the response he was waiting for. “Should be an interesting week, at the very least.”

“Oh,” Yaga replies, finally cracking a less than reassuring grin. “Satoru will make sure of that.”

“Hey! (L/N)-san! The next report is up and they’re sending a manager for us, hurry up! Stop scribbling things in that little notebook. What are you writing anyway? Is it some kinda biography? Oooh! Is it on me? Is that why you keep looking at me? It is, isn’t it? Ahh, now I’m gonna feel self-conscious.”

You snap your notepad closed and slip it into your hip pouch, stepping toward the two fellow members of your team. “It’s just routine notes and you don’t need to call me (L/N)-san. I realize it’s likely force of habit, but please, just call me (Y/N).”

“Ahhh! We’re already on a first name basis! I’m blushing. I’ve never had a girl be this forward with me!” Satoru sighs, clapping his hands against his cheeks and leaning over you. “You’re so bold!”

“Ugh,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. “Liar, and stop that. I’m still the senior sorcerer in this party. I–”

“But you’re just a grade 1,” he interrupts, bracing his hands on his hips and exaggerating his stance, moving his face close to yours. As he looms ever nearer, you raise your chin and hold your ground. This invasion of personal space is a tactic he loves to use.

At first, you’d figured he was just another one of those guys who weren’t aware how intimidating their sheer height and presence came off to others. However, as the days wore on, you noticed his intentional maneuvering. He would press at Shoko too, but she was better at ignoring him, so he soon turned his full attention to you.

“Yeah, I might only be a grade 1, but they have given me the command on all of our missions. It’s my job to file the reports, a task that you, as the technical ‘junior party’, aren’t trusted to do.”

“You’re so right! That’s a tremendous responsibility. How do you stand under all that pressure (Y/N)! The role of the pencil pusher is such a big job. I should act right! Or I’ll never be a real jujutsu sorcerer! God, look at this Shoko, we need to get our shit together! At this rate, we’ll never be able to file our own reports!”

“Now, now,” you tut, raising a finger in front of your face, forcing him to take a subconscious step backwards. “Watch what you say, after all, you’re wanting to become a teacher. So some part of the masochism of endless paperwork must appeal to you.”

Satoru’s smooth lips raise into a broad smirk and pulls away, arching his arms behind his pale head. “Hmm, I’ll give you that one (Y/N). Mainly because of your choice of wording. Masochism. What a word for it. And why’d you have to say it so straight faced? Oh, that reminds me, what time is our next mission at?”

“Uh, why did masochism remind you of that?” you pause, lifting your wrist so you can check the time on your watch. “I think it’s in two hours, give or take traffic.”

“Hmm, and it’s in the Chiba district?”

“Yeah, that’s in Tokyo, right?”

“It is,” Shoko chimes in, twirling a lock of her long brown hair between two of her fingers. Her low voice reminds you, and you turn to face her. “Speaking of names, I never asked, would you prefer Shoko or Ieiri?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies, lifting her tawny eyes to yours, catching some of the bright sunlight as it fades into the deep circles under her eyelids. The contrast makes her skin look even more pallid. “First name, last name, whatever is easier.”

“Shoko okay with you then?”

“Sure,” she nods, the ghost of a smile lifting her lips.

“Oi!” Satoru interrupts, slinging an arm over Shoko’s shoulder and fixing you with a pointed look. Or you assume he is, it’s hard to tell where he’s looking because of those white strips of cloth that obscure his eyes. “You know what’s in Chiba, don’t you?”

You blink at him, unsure if this is another one of his aimless questions or something genuine. “No. Should I?”

“You’re a tourist and you really don’t know what’s in–”

“We’ve already been over this Satoru; I am not a tourist,” you protest. “I’m here on official business from my administration to–”

“Yeah, yeah. Look, special, ‘top secret’ assignment or not, you’re still basically a tourist because it’s your first time to Japan. You’re honestly telling me you didn’t look up anything before you arrived?”

“Um,” you waver, eyes narrowing at the cheerful leer that’s drifting over Satoru’s angular features. “I looked up some basic things. I know about the Shinjuku and Roppongi districts. Oh, and Harajuku, that’s a big one too.”

“Mmhm, very good, my little tourist, but do you know what’s in the Chiba district?”

“Don’t call me that and stop screwing around Satoru. If this has nothing to do with the mission, then I’m not interested. I could care less what’s in the district–”

“Might just be rumors, but I’ve been hearing about an increase in cursed activity. Especially around that theme park. I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he looks upward, pearlescent hair tumbling behind his wrappings. “I guess it’s not surprising that it’s a hot spot, what with all the people who are always checking it out. It’s pretty famous.”

Tch. He’s not gonna tell you.

You suck your teeth and twist your hand back to your hip pouch, digging for your phone. As you peer over the search results you can hear him rambling on about the notoriety of the unnamed place but as soon as you hit the second result, your head whips back up.

There’s no way.

Of course you’d heard of it, you’d even thought about it when the higher ups asked you to take on the assignment to Japan, but never, not in a million years, would you have figured that you’d have a chance to go. Not on this trip.

“Are you serious?” you breathe, blinking up at his smug face. Satoru doesn’t answer, just pops one hand under his chin and gives you a shit-eating grin. You look back at your phone and bite your lip, doing your best to contain your budding excitement, double checking the map for the district.

If he’s not pulling some kind of elaborate joke, it looks like Tokyo Disneyland is the location of your next mission.

“What… what the fuck is this, some kinda elaborate joke??”

The gates to the amusement park are warped, and the paint is peeling; one side looks like it’s about to melt off of the frame, all twisted metal and faded rust. Just past the gates you can see what looks like an old merry-go-round, complete with lions, tigers, bears and several sets of horses. At the tip-top of the ride rest a star, and atop that star is a wraith like curse. It spindles around the flecks of gold and cool bronze, baring its teeth at the three of you and sputtering a long line of broken speech as it twists and turns.

“Huh, still looks about the same. This place was enormous when I was a kid. Now it’s a trendy spot for ghost hunters and thrill seekers! I think five or six people died here last year.” Satoru grins, tucking his hands into his pockets as he strides forward. In seconds, he’s beside the curse on the merry-go-round, silencing chittering of its inane dialogue, letting an eerie quiet seep over the rest of the abandoned grounds.

“So stupid. I cannot believe I let him make me think we were going to Disneyland. You know what he’s like, Shoko! Why didn’t you tell me? He–”

“I honestly don’t listen to him. No idea he was making you think this was Tokyo Disney,” Shoko interrupts, already following the path Satoru took, tucking her brown hair behind her neck with a loose hair tie. “But since we’re here, could you lower the curtain and take care of those level 2 curses on the ticket booth?”

You let out a long sigh and toss her a quick affirmative, reciting the familiar incantation, watching as the darkening shield slopes its way down from the skies, sheltering the three of you within its haze.

The first set of curses are easy enough and you swiftly take care of them, unleashing your cursed technique and splicing them into faded dust. How ridiculous, you think, opening the door to the booth and dodging an ill timed lunge from a sneakier curse who was hiding inside. Satoru honestly had you thinking that you’d be going to the Disneyland theme park. On the way over, he’d even told you about the layout of the park and what potential curses might be lurking about.

What a jerk.

Still, you muse, turning toward another shrieking hulk of a curse that’s lumbering toward you, it’s impressive he’d led you on so easily. You make a mental note to get back at him later, for now you need to clear this area and focus on the task at hand.

“I cannot believe that you led me on like that!” you pout, knocking back a small swig of beer.

“Pfft,” Satoru chuckles, wagging one long finger at you. “Didn’t ever say it was gonna be Disneyland, did I? You came to that conclusion all on your own.”

“Oh please! Making me look up what ‘famous tourist spots are in Chiba’ and then nodding each time I said I was excited to see some of the rides on the way over.”

“You could have really been into haunted carnivals. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ass,” you snap playfully, sticking your tongue out at his pleased smile.

After the mission and spotting your peeved expression, Satoru had insisted that you let him take the two of you out for a drink. According to Shoko, the bar in this neighborhood was highly rated and had some of the best specials in the entire district.

The place was packed; but somehow Shoko had secured three seats up at the bar top, ushering you to sit between her and Satoru, informing you there must always be a three foot buffer between her and ‘that loser’. The bartender seemed to know her and, before you could pull yourself into the worn leather seat, three foaming lagers were passed across the rough surface of the bar top, one for each of you.

“Thanks,” you’d murmured, cupping your hands around the glass. On your right, Satoru pushed his lager toward you, raising two fingers at the distracted barkeep as he chatted with Shoko. “What’s wrong? Don’t like beer?” you’d asked, bemused by his disgruntled expression.

“Nah,” he’d confirmed, wagging his digits a little faster, chin lifting as he let out a huffed exhale. “Messes with my eyes. I want something to eat, though. Hey! Shoko! Stop flirting with him and ask if they have anything sweet! Shokooo! Don’t ignore me!”

Shoko made a show of rolling her eyes but, a few minutes later, a plate of piping hot fried sweet buns appeared and he’d swiftly grabbed up one, popping it in his mouth and smacking it hungrily. You’d turned to ask Shoko what they were, but by the time you’d twisted back to Satoru over half of the cakes were gone.

“Damn, you inhaled them,” you’d exhaled, a little shocked he could scarf them down that quickly.

“Well, they’re not bad and hit the spot, for now,” he’d grinned. “Want one?”

“I’m good. You might bite my finger if I get too close… mistake it for one of the buns…”

“Awe, what’s wrong? Think you wouldn’t taste good?”

“Yikes,” you laugh and Satoru hums, clearly pleased with your genuine mirth.

Shoko, who was soon engrossed in conversation with a few of the other patrons to the left of her, kept ordering rounds for the both of you. To keep up, you diligently sipped at each fresh beer, careful to keep abreast of the thrum of the alcohol with several responsible swigs of water. Satoru seemed content with his small order of sweets and peppered you with questions about life in America. He asked about what grade year you taught, the ins and outs of curses within the states and how you liked Japan. He kept things lively and made a point to throw in a few lighthearted jokes at you, beaming each time you laughed at his barbs.

“So, what you’re saying is there’s no one in America quite like me?” he teases, stretching his long arms dramatically before leaning closer to you.

“Stop that! You’re gonna hit someone,” you grin, trying to shove at his side, watching as your hand freezes in midair, held off by his limitless technique. “Seriously? You’ve still got that on?”

“Mmhm,” Satoru intones. “24/7, 365!”

“You would,” you try to jostle him again, bemused by the fraying and shimmering sliver of infinity that rests between the two of you.

“It’s a tremendous strain on my brain, you know,” he bemoans, dropping his head and fixing a long frown over his lips.

“You deserve it.”

“Ack!” Satoru cries out, clutching at his heart. “Wow! No sympathy! You really gonna treat me like this? My senpai?”

“May I remind you - Tokyo Disneyland,” you intone, glaring at his haggard expression.

“WOW. You’re never gonna let that go, huh?” Satoru cracks a face, arching his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, letting a high pitched, cracked voice leech from his lips. “Ahhh, that damned man! He deprived me of my dreams! The chance to see Tokyo Disneyland, one last time!”

“What is that? Me? But… old?”

“Pretty good, right?”

“No.”

“Well, I think it was uncanny!” he crows, nodding.

“What in your warped mind makes you think I’ll sound anything like that when I’m old?” you ask, pushing your empty beer pint forward as you purse your lips.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so excited over the idea of a theme park,” he ponders, tapping a bent index finger against his smooth chin. “Don’t you guys have them in the states? The Disney parks, I mean.”

“We do, we have two. But, since you made me think we were coming to Tokyo Disneyland, I looked up some rides,” you snatch your phone from the counter, scrolling through a few photos before you land on the right one. “Ah! Here it is! Look at this! See?” you chirp, pushing the gleaming screen of your phone toward him.

“Uh. What am I looking at?”

“It’s the Tower of Terror!”

“Which is… ummm… a ride?”

“Yeah? And look at it! It’s upside down! I don’t think the one in America does that,” your finger reaches toward your phone and you blow up the closest image, tapping at the bright colors. Satoru laughs and waves a hand up, attracting the bartender once more and gesturing for another beer for you. “Imma get you another drink, you’re fun like this, plus, you’re just too cute with that little smile.”

You miss his last comment, wholly focused on finding another set of images. “Oh my God! Look! During Halloween they have a night parade in front of it! And… ahhh! Satoru! There’s a green ghost at the top! It’s almost like that curse we saw tonight at the carnival!”

His long fingers snatch up your bright device, and he yanks it away from your wide eyes. “Ok, that’s enough of that. I’m worried you might end up cursing me for not taking you.”

You give him a sour look and vainly try to grab your phone back, fingers unable to pass through his unseen barrier. “What? No fair! I still don’t understand how you can always have this up!”

“Practice,” he taunts, shaking his head at your determination and wandering touch, chuckling each time you bounce off of his cursed technique. “On another note,” he begins as your new lager is placed in front of you. “What’s in that report that you’re working on?”

You decide to ignore the fact that he’s still holding your phone and cautiously sip past the foam of your fresh beer, peering up at him, studying the lines of his white cloth. It doesn’t tell you much, so you look at his lips instead. They’re pale, but they’re held in a serious line, so you carefully construct your response. “What makes you think I have a report?”

“Why else would you be here?” Satoru counters, rapping his nails against the warped wood of the bar top. “I know you met with Yaga and you’re too cautious and overpowered to be sent on missions with Shoko and me. So you must be here for something else.”

“Officially,” you concede, “I’m here to observe the teaching techniques and skills of the alumni of your school. I’m sure this will come as no shock, but curses are getting more powerful, both here and overseas, and we’re doing our best to keep ahead of those changes. I’m supposed to pick up what tricks I can and bring them back home, to see how we can implement it.”

“Reasonable,” he allows, spreading his fingers before coiling them under his palms again. “But that’s not everything, is it?”

No, you think it’s not.

You lower your beer and look over at him. He’s braced himself against the bar and his head is dipped so his chin is almost against his breastbone. He doesn’t exactly look dejected, but you can see that he’s thinking deeply and something about that openness makes your heart squeeze. He looks a bit like a kicked puppy.

Ugh, he’s not a bad guy. He’s funny, and he knows what he’s doing, plus he has the confidence to get where he needs to go. In all honesty, he wouldn’t make a terrible teacher. Maybe not the best, but he certainly wouldn’t be the worst.

“I–there… there’s some concern you’d be too divided - that it’s not practical to have you teach and go on missions. I also don’t think your own elders trust you much.”

“Ah-ha!” Satoru beams, springing upward and pointing two finger guns at you. “You are here to look in on me! Knew it!”

You can’t help but laugh at him. “Fine, fine, you got me. Let’s get this over with, huh? So we can get back to talking about things other than work, I liked that. What’s the most direct thing I can ask? Hmm, oh! I’ll start with something easy–Why do you want to teach?”

“That’s easy?” he whines, head falling again.

“It’s straightforward,” you bargain, propping your chin on your fist, looking him over.

“Sure, let’s pretend that’s not a deceptively loaded question! Alright, well, it’s the best way to change things.”

“Change things?”

“Yup. Like you mentioned, lately curses have become more powerful and lately it feels like I’m the only one who’s being sent on these high-level missions. Frankly, it’s stupid to rely on just me that much, you know? That’s not practical, or even realistic. So, to my mind, it’s vital I throw my support behind some of these up-and-coming kids. You know, foster the next generation and all that. I want reliable allies in the field and to have that, I’ve gotta make sure they’re taught right. Give them everything I know, make them better than me, stronger than me.”

You’re quiet for a long breath, eyes wide, fingers frozen around your glass, which was midway to your lips. “Damn,” you smile, letting the word hang. “You know, that was actually a pretty good answer.”

Satoru clicks his tongue and curls his lips in a grimace. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I mean,” you chuckle and look up at him, eyes bright. “Well, your attitude doesn’t always inspire confidence.”

“Ahhhhhh,” he groans, thumping his covered forehead against the bar. “Such a low blow! Bartender! Another round for me!”

“Please,” you sigh, finally taking a sip of your beer. “Do not call your sweet buns ‘another round.��” He grins at you and leans across the bar top, shifting his weight toward your bent arm. The pressure of his shoulder is warm and you nudge at him a little, playfully. He tuts at you but continues to stare ahead, a faint smile teasing the edge of his lips.

As the bartender slides the requested plate of sweets down, you suddenly realize that you’re touching him. Your eyes widen and you slowly turn your head toward his. He’s not looking at you, content with chewing on his sweet bread, but he’s still braced against you. It’s like all of your senses are finely tuned to that one spot of faint friction between the two of you. You can feel the lines of his muscled arm as he shifts and you involuntarily gulp, doing your best to ignore the abrupt thudding of your heart.

He said he always kept it up, didn’t he? Something about 24/7 and all the days of the year, so why is he…

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice startles you and you instinctively slide closer to Satoru, arm dragging against his shoulder as you try to right yourself again. “I’m gonna go win this drinking contest these guys have started. You two sticking around for a bit?”

“Uh,” you begin, but Satoru cuts you off, draping an arm over the back of your chair. “Yeah, we’ll be here. What are the stakes?”

“Not sure. But the pot is likely against me, if you’re in a betting mood.”

“Sure, I’ll put 20,000 yen on you.”

“Is…” you start, but Shoko is already walking off, one arm pumped into the air as she shoulders her way to the long table that’s filled with five or six others, all of them holding a full pint glass of beer between their hands. You turn back to Satoru and let out a long breath. “Is that safe?”

“Huh?” he asks, face close to yours. You can smell his cologne from here and the heady scent of him and crisp patchouli fills your senses. “I mean Shoko, will she be ok?” you elaborate, eyes studying the space where his own would be, silently hoping that he’ll pull down the barrier that covers half of him from your curious gaze.

“Ah,” he nods sagely, leaning back a little to look out at where Shoko is sitting, quietly waiting for the start of the game with her full beer. “She’s got a ridiculously high tolerance. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s part of her cursed technique. She’ll be fine.”

“True, she likely knows the limits of the human body better than anyone else. But… I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so… excited?” you muse, sitting against your chair and running into the flat palm of Satoru’s hand. For a moment, you debate shifting away, but he’s not really doing anything, just letting the tips of his fingers rest against the curve of your spine, tapping a disjointed rhythm as he watches the start of the contest, that all too familiar smile still tugging at the corners of his lips.

“She used to be a little more laid back, you know?” he replies, leaning a little harder into your side as he lowers his voice, keeping close to your ear so you can hear him. “She always looks so tired now and her whole outlook has changed, but I suppose four years of med school will do that to you. Although, I did hear that she cheated her way out.”

“No!” you gasp, eyebrows lifted in shock. Satoru laughs, and for once, you’re not thinking it might be at your expense. “Yeah! Just the word on the street. But I wouldn’t put it past her. Shoko’s always done her best to avoid things, namely confrontation or extra work, so it makes sense she’d jet outta med school as fast as she could too.”

“That’s crazy and frankly, terrifying.”

“Riiight?” he shivers, lips raising in an exaggerated wince. “But that’s our Shoko. I’ve got a feeling she’ll do well at the school and I’m grateful I’ll have time to work with her again. It’s been way too long…” Satoru trails off and you can feel his hand slip up your back, fingers ghosting over your shoulder blades.

“Stop that,” you scold, shaking him off with a quick jolt and twisting around to look at his roguish smirk. “What happened to always maintaining your barrier?”

“Awe” he groans, dunking his head against your shoulder with a thump. “Come on, I’ve gotta win you over somehow!”

“Are you serious?”

“Well, I mean, I want the job.”

“I’m gonna hit you,” you threaten, doing your best to keep your bubbling amusement contained.

“Try it,” he taunts, lifting his head and keeping his face close. His nose is inches from yours and you can barely make out his sharp grin, but you can feel the drag and pull of his breath as it passes over you, leaving a lingering sweetness against your skin. Instantly, your hand lifts to him, fully intent on shoving him back, but you can’t move any closer, trapped by the sudden emergence of his infinity.

“Ass,” you prickle, shaking your head at his antics. Another peal of laughter falls from his soft lips and you can’t help but smile back, caught up in his infectious joviality. “Tch. Don’t make me find more Tokyo Disney pictures.”

“You can’t,” he informs you, cocking his head at your confusion. “I still have your phone.”

“Hey! Give that back!” you gasp, snatching blindly at him. He shifts back into his seat and yanks your device out of his pocket, waggling it tauntingly in front of you. “Uh-uh! Gotta get past the barrier first!”

“That’s not fair!”

“Never said that I’d make this… oh! Shoko! How did it go? Win me something?”

You twist and spot Shoko’s dark head approaching the two of you. She pauses beside Satoru and flips a large stack of bills down on the bar top, a wide grin on her usually impassive face. “As expected, I won. Here’s your cut, Satoru. Don’t spend it all in one place or on another order of sweet buns, would you? Think you can do that for me?”

She and Satoru bicker back and forth playfully as you unfold several of the notes, aimlessly organizing them on the countertop as their brisk conversation winds back down.

“So,” Shoko murmurs, pulling a pack of cigarettes from her back pocket and knocking one free from the carton. “You two gonna head out soon? I don’t really see a need to call one of the managers, the school’s close by and so is (Y/N)’s hotel.”

“Yeah,” Satoru replies, finally passing your phone back as he collects the neatly stacked set of yen from you. “Figured, I’d see her back.”

“I can find it!” you protest, jamming your phone safely into your pouch once more.

“Sure,” he mocks, arching toward you as he braces an elbow against the bar. “You can barely speak Japanese and I know you can’t read much kanji, but sure thing, let’s let you loose in the city. See how far you make it before you’re calling one of us, hmm?”

“That’s not… I–”

“Yeah, yeah,” Satoru waves his hand back and forth and turns back to Shoko. “I’ll let her finish her drink and then we’ll head out. See you tomorrow?”

Shoko nods at his question and, for a moment, you think you spy a knowing look pass between the two of them, but before you can call out to her, Shoko is already making her way toward the door.

“What was that?” you ask, eyes narrowed as Satoru looks down at you, white hair gleaming under the low lights. “What?” he asks innocently, propping his chin onto his open palm. “That look that the two of you just gave each other.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. You sure that beer didn’t hit you a little too hard?”

“Ugh, shut up.”

Despite it being late August, a cool breeze greets the two of you when you step out of the bar. “It’s so nice out,” you comment, readjusting your boots as you hop onto the sidewalk.

“Mmhm,” he agrees, bracing his arms behind his head as you make your way down the street. “So did you decide what you’re gonna write in your report?”

You glance up at him and make sure he can see you rolling your eyes. “Back to trying to butter me up?”

“Never! Just asking. If you wanna say I’m crazy and can’t be trusted, that’s fine. I can think of a few others who’d agree with you.”

“Oh? Who?”

“Most people,” he laughs, stepping a little nearer and bumping against you, shocking you with the actual weight and warmth of his body again. As you continue on, you lift your hand to his arm and press the pad of your finger against his sleeve. This time, nothing bars your way so you run the digit slowly along his arm, smiling when he shivers and bats you away.

“Stop that! Someone’s gonna see and think you’re taking advantage of me!”

The laugh that explodes from your chest at that mental image makes you stop dead in your tracks, arms lacing around your shaking stomach. Satoru scoffs at your bent figure and leans down, shaking his head at your guffawing.

“The… the… fact that you… think that anyone… would think that… I–”

“You’re lucky your laugh is so cute,” he muses, bracing his arms over your bent back, playfully pinning you down as he crosses his forearms.

“Hey!” you protest, squirming under his hold. “Let me up!”

“Tell me what you’ve written about me!” he threatens, chuckling as you squirm under him.

“I only said that Satoru Gojo is an absolute monster and shouldn’t be trusted with anyone’s future,” you cry out, overly pantomiming your overwrought expressions, peeking up at him from under his laced arms.

“Oh? Just that? Well, you’re right. So, fair is fair!” Satoru replies, slipping off of you so fast that you nearly tumble to the hard concrete. Half a beat later, he’s back in front of you and lifting you back to your full height, fingers soothing over your arms as he tugs you toward him. “Would it kill you to toss in a bit of praise? Talk about my undeniable prowess and skill? Wax poetic about my stunning efficiency? You know, make them think that I’ve won you over with my charms. After all, you can’t resist me, can you?”

“But what if I don’t want to?” he teases, his voice falling into a lower, hushed pitch before he relaxes his hold, letting you slip from his hands.

A distant quake dashes up your spine, but it’s not from the chill in the air. “Uh, you sure you didn’t sneak some shots under the table? The way you’re pawing at me, you’d think you were the one in the drinking contest.”

“Nah, I told you, I don’t drink. Messes with my eyes.” Satoru pats his index finger against his white wrappings for emphasis.

“Mmm, the six eyes, right? Powerful ability, from what little I’ve heard of it.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s a rare technique. Wanna see?”

You’d walked on, but once the question leaves his lips your feet swivel back, as if they have a mind of their own. He’s standing where he was, hands dug into the pockets of his pants, a lazy smile resting on his lips. The moonlight makes his hair shine, and the gleam is bright against the darkness of the street. The glow makes him look taller, imposing. He’s quiet as he waits for your answer and you take advantage of the extra time to mull over the strange man in front of you.

He’s enigmatic; a force to be reckoned with, for curses and fellow sorcerers alike and, like most jujutsu users, a little crazy. Even knowing all of this, there’s something about him that’s drawing you in. It’s like the pull of a magnet. It tugs at the forefront of your mind and makes you step closer, wanting to see if you can unravel the puzzle that’s Satoru Gojo.

“Fine,” you hear yourself reply, crossing your arms, steadfastly watching for his next move. “Go on. Let me see what all the hype is about.”

He grins and that mischievous look makes your heart beat race against your breastbone as yet another quake slips up your back. “Ready?” he asks, right thumb hooking under the fabric that covers his eyes. You nod once and the pad of his finger starts that short, upward, pull.

He’s slow, painfully slow, in his unveiling.

The smooth angle of his upper cheek peeks out, and he’s careful to roll up the white cloth as he goes. Then, right as he hits the groove of his lower eye, he stops, a frown pulling over his lips. “Mmm, I don’t know…” he contemplates, holding his thumb under his wrappings. “What if I don’t live up to your expectations? Can’t let you down. Not when you’ve been so patient. I know you’ve been wanting to ask, I can see it in your face. Every time we’d start an exorcism you’d look at me, like you were waiting, watching to see if I’d finally take off the coverings.”

Did you?

Does it matter?

Do you want it to matter?

Flabbergasted by his all too true accusations and entirely eaten up with curiosity, you march up to him and wrap your fingers around his raised wrist, not noticing that you’re actually touching him and completely unaware of the alluring smile he flashes when your hand coils around his. “Ugh, come on! For once in your life, stop being such a tease! You’re never fair, always so… so pompous and… and–”

You’d shoved his hand upward as you began your preamble but as soon as the tightly wrapped cloth passed over his right eye you feel your breath leave your tensed body.

His eyelashes are pale, the same ashen color as his hair, but they contrast beautifully with the lone eye that peers down. Beautiful? No, it’s more than that. It’s… it’s…

Truthfully, it’s indescribable and unlike anything you’ve ever seen.

It’s blue; but it’s not an ordinary shade. No, the color seems to meld and shift before your shocked gaze, drifting from hue to hue as the color deepens and lightens. Clouds. It’s like clouds passing over a summer sky. The brightness of the cerulean ensnares you, and you can feel your mouth go dry as you stare up at him.

His eyes are stunning, perfect, and irresistible, hauntingly so.

“So, what do you think?” Satoru asks, pulling his wrist from your grasp and snatching your limp hand in his, twining his long fingers between your own. His skin is warm and you need to say something, anything, but your mind is stuttering, lagging miles behind as you fall headfirst into the overwhelming pull of his presence.

Finally, you unstick part of your tongue.

“They’re… uh… I don’t… ha… God…” You shake your head roughly and the familiarity of that motion slips out of the trance he’s placed you under. As soon as you can think again, you jerk your hand from his and blindly walk down the darkened street. Your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest and you can’t stop nibbling on your lower lip.

It’s not… this isn’t how this is supposed to go, you think, trying vainly to get the shine of Satoru’s eyes out of your mind.

“Never answered my question,” Satoru coos beside you, his long legs quickly catching up with you. “What’s wrong? You like em’ a little too much?… Or…”

“They… they’re kinda creepy,” you blurt out, fingers curling into your palms.

“Creepy!” he gasps, hopping in front of you and lifting up both sides of his wrappings, granting you a peek of both eyes. You do your best to avoid looking at him head on, turning and weaving from him, but he dances closer each time you shift. Damn it. His animated performance makes you exhale a quiet chuckle, and he takes your amusement as a sign to continue, constantly placing himself in your way with a broad grin.

“Stop!” you plead, openly laughing at his sudden burst of silliness. “Now you’re acting like a creep! Satoru! Don’t! Stop showing them to me! You’re losing all of your appeal! Isn’t part of your charm the mystery? Actually, that’s likely all of your charm. Come on, stop it, there’s a cop on that street corner, he’s gonna think you’re drunk and harassing me!”

“Whaaat!” Satoru gulps, whipping his head around to look at the tired policemen that’s leaning against a dim street lamp. “Oh no! The police! Quick (Y/N), before he spots us!” His long fingers snatch up your pliant wrist and he tugs you into a dark alleyway.

“Hey! Where are you taking me? Officer!” you call out playfully as you balefully follow him, dragging your feet along the dusty ground. “He’s over here! Help!”

“Oi! Knock it off! You wanna get me arrested?”

“Oh please, there’s no way that guy is about to follow–”

“Shit! Shhh, he’s coming this way! Come on!” The sheer force of his grip yanks you forward and you stumble after him. He takes the corner of the next alleyway and the pair of you dash along the wet patches that litter the broken concrete. He’s moving at a tremendous speed, but his feet barely make a noise as he glides over the grimy ground and it takes everything you’ve got to just hold on and keep up.

A few twists and turns later, you can finally see the bright lights of the busy street that your hotel is on and you feel a heavy exhale of relief leave your burning lungs. Satoru skids to a halt right before he tumbles onto the safety of the sidewalk that rests a few paces ahead and pulls you beside him, grinning down at you as you try to catch your breath.

“I think we lost him!” he beams and you suck your teeth as you bend over, hands bracing themselves against your knees. “There…there’s no… he wasn’t actually chasing us. Even if he was, I doubt he can catch up now….” your voice trails off as you hear a distant shout from the alleyway and the thud of heavy boots.

No. There’s no way you think dumbly as you stare into the darkness, eyes searching for movement.

“See? I told you he was on to us. He’ll see us if he comes this way. What if… Oooh, lemme try something,” Satoru’s broad hands grab at you and he swiftly maneuvers you against the damp brick of the nearest building, careful not to scrape your back as he pushes you against the rust colored siding. “Just play along, I doubt he’ll notice. Don’t give me that look, it’s your fault he’s following us!”

“My fault? I didn’t… oh–”

His lips are sleeker than you’d imagined.

That first, teasing kiss he gives you already has you lifting your head, following the beguiling smoothness of his mouth, silently asking him for another caress. When he leans down your hands bunch into the dark fabric of his uniform and you can feel his smile against your slackened lips. He doesn’t touch you; his fingers don’t wander to the back of your jaw or the dip of your skull, instead he opts to flatten his angles against your curves, pressing until you can’t feel anything but him.

The next kiss he gives you has a little more bite behind it, literally.

His sharp nose bumps your cheek and his teeth worry against the plush swell of your lower lip, sucking and nipping until you’re snatching for his shoulders, searching for some kind of leverage. His mouth parts and right when you think he’s about to deepen his strokes and teasing pecks, he leans back and cocks his head at your flustered expression. “I’ve always wanted to try that,” he tells you, bracing one of his arms above your head. “It looks so fun in the movies.”

That cop could be right behind him, could be waiting for you both to stop your ridiculous routine and face the harsh gleam of reality, but you don’t care, not right now.

Your hands had fallen from him when he pulled back, and the absence of his warmth makes you desperate to touch him again. But, when you snatch at the corners of his dark jacket, you’re met with that damned barrier.

“Really?” you bemoan, licking at your kiss slick lips, trying again. “You’re the worst, you know that? You let me get used to the idea of having access to you and then just cut it–mmmph…”

With a faint shudder of space, his barrier is lowered once more and his lips are back against yours. This time, his hands join in and he cups his fingers behind your ears, tilting you up as he glides his soft touch over you until you’re groaning.

“Could have just told me you wanted more…” he rumbles in between his caresses, fingers tracing over the line of your jaw, your neck, and the slope of your shoulders. It’s like he can’t decide where he wants to go and you love the momentary burst of indecisiveness that’s broken over him.

More, apparently, entails you asking him to come up to your room.

He’d laughed when you’d mentioned it, your lips swollen and glassy from his attentions, and you’d almost taken it back, peeved by his genuine amusement at the idea, but then he’d plucked you into his arms and smoothed any lingering doubts with another flurry of nips and kisses.

“This gonna make it into your report?” he grins, yanking his high collared jacket off and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. “I should,” you barb, pulling the long band of your hip pouch off, letting it clatter to the ground as your fingers work up the buttons of your own uniform. “Let them think that you’re abusing your status.”

“Tch, me? Abuse my power? Never. Hey, I think you’re supposed to go slower with that. Don’t just yank all of your clothes off. You know, take your time, tease me a little,” Satoru chuckles, jerking his chin toward your busy hands.

“Oh? Wanting a show?” you ask, threading the last button and spreading the heavy material apart, revealing the thin shirt that’s obscuring his view of your breasts and stomach. “Well, that’s too bad, because taking all this gear off is never fun, or sexy for that matter…”

“Not with that attitude,” he hums, stepping closer, peeling his skin tight undershirt off and revealing the sleek planes of his rippled muscles. Most sorcerers are fit; and many boast beefier sets of pectorals and curving arches of biceps and triceps, but there’s something about the streamlined leanness of Satoru that’s making your hands itch. He’s not far, you could reach out for him, slip your fingers over the dips and beveled lines of his abdomen and follow that tempting strip of white that winds down the front of his pants, but that makes this too easy and there’s nothing about Satoru that’s easy.

“Mmm, that’s a new look.” His voice is distant to your ears, but the satisfied note that’s vibrating through his words makes you snap your head up, fingernails scraping against your palms. “You look like you wanna eat me (Y/N)�� or maybe, taste is a better adjective. Awe, what’s the matter? Worried I won’t let you?”

You run your tongue over your lips and lift one hand, holding it steady and crooking your index finger at his brazen expression, pleased to see that cheeky smile of his falters a little. “Do me a favor, come here and take off that blindfold.”

“Ah-ha, so bossy,” he growls, voice sinking into that sinfully lower octave as he raises his broad hands to the back of his wrappings, unwinding the fabric and slowly advancing toward you. He stops when the tips of his toes are inches from your own, bracing his palms toward his face, holding the last strip across his eyes. “Wanna do the honors? Or are you expecting me to do all the work tonight?”

“As if. Besides…” you snicker, pulling two fingers to the remains of his blindfold and peeling it down, watching as his hair falls forward, slowly divulging the top of his forehead, pale eyebrows and that shock of avid blue that’s already gazing down at you. “I think you like when I tell you what to do, don’t you?”

“Ahh, looks like she figured me out,” Satoru groans, letting the ivory bindings fall to the floor, his hands already reaching for your waist. He doesn’t give you an opportunity to study him, but they’ll be time for that later, you reason, arms lacing around his chorded neck.

This kiss is hungrier and his tongue immediately dances along the seam of your lips, pressing until you give in. It’s an awkward angle, but he expertly adjusts himself to you, slotting a warm palm against the small of your back and raising the other to curl into your hair, lifting you until it’s perfect.

He’s greedy, devouring every inch you give him with a ravenous edge, but when you suck on his lower lip, he slips into something that’s clearly a little more unhinged.

Suddenly, he’s the one who’s bending forward, trying to get as close to you as he physically can, hunching until you can trace your fingertips over the sharpness of his jaw. His teeth clink against yours as he snatches you up, and you can feel the sharp bulge of his length, the hardness grinding down your hips and stomach as he yanks you nearer. It’s hard to breathe, but he’s refusing to let you budge, lips avariciously seeking and pulling, leaving you with nothing else but the sheer enormity of his touch.

“Fuck,” he gasps, finally letting you fall from his grasp, heaving out a few unsteady breaths. “You’ve got way too much on. Why do you still have so much on?” He plucks at your shirt but stops when he frees the edge from your pants, cerulean eyes bright in the moonlight. “Take it off,” he heaves, forehead pressing against yours, lifting his fingers from you. “Take it off for me, please?”

You nod, a little taken aback by his sudden desperation, and he watches closely as you yank the thin material up, blue eyes shining as you unveil yourself. When the shirt passes over your breasts, he gives you a distracted kiss to the temple before he pulls away, freeing you to pull it over your head and sighing happily when it finally hits the floor, leaving you partially bare. As soon as your arms lower, he’s back against you, hands cupping at your hips, jerking you forward. “Whoa,” you gasp, bracing your palms against his chest. “Slow down. Let me get the rest of this–”

“No, no, no, no,” he chants, fingers smoothing up your spine. “Stop, for a second… just… just gimme a minute. You feel so nice. Your skin, it’s… it’s so warm and so fucking smooth, ahhh. Ohh, yes. A few more seconds (Y/N), just let me… It’s been so long since I’ve touched someone like this. I kinda forgot what it felt like and I don’t wanna let go, not yet.”

His head is bowed and that hauntingly blue gaze is covered by his winced eyelids, but he can’t seem to stop moving. Even as he asks you to hold still, to let him touch you, feel you, he keeps shifting his weight and burrowing his brow into the dip of your shoulder.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nails scritching at the clasp of your bra. “Please? Lemme take it off. Come on. I know you wanna touch me too, I saw how you were looking at me a minute ago. You’re so fucking cute, I can’t… ahaha, fuck, I sound insane. Look, I’ll slow down, I promise, just gimme a little more of you.”

When he mischievously snaps the strap of your bra against your shoulder blade, you can’t help but laugh at his infectious exuberance. His head lifts from you and he turns his attention to your neck, soft lips sucking and nipping at you until you’re wriggling in his hold. “Alright, alright! Just step back, Satoru! I’ll take it off,” you placate, knocking him away and huffing at the long face he gives you in return. “Here,” your fingers unhook the two pronged clasp and the delicate lace slips from your shoulders, falling to the carpeted floor with a hush. “Okay, that’s everything on the top half. Now what are–Ah! Satoru!”

He takes full advantage of his superior speed and before you can blurt out a proper retort, he’s against you.

His teeth worry at your earlobe and he immediately hoists you upward, seizing the lush curve of your ass and pulling you into his powerful arms, urging your legs to wrap around his trim waist. When you shakily oblige, he cups one lean arm under you, but the other drags you forward, scraping your newly bared breasts and stiffened nipples against the planes of his powerful pectorals. When he walks, you jostle in his grasp and coil your fingers around his neck, smiling when he moans contentedly at your reliance on his firm hold. “Damn,” he grunts, cocking his head so he can lick a wet circle into your pulse. “You feel fucking good (Y/N). So damn smooth, how are you so soft? God, I want more, I wanna feel everything.”

The front of his shins hit the edge of your bed and he tumbles you down, a dark grin spreading over his face as he watches you stretch out teasingly. He plants a knee into the soft bedding and braces both arms beside your head, leering over you.

For a long breath, both of you study each other, eyes whisking over gleaming skin and the curves of your faces. Without the added heft of that blindfold Satoru’s snowy hair hangs loosely over his face, straight tendrils clinging to his brow, making him look younger, mellower, and so very handsome. Opting to take advantage of this lull, you reach up and thread your fingers into the silken strands.

When you reach the edge of his temple, you scrape your nails against his scalp, grinning as he lets a heavy exhale fall between his lips, cerulean eyes falling to a pleased half mast. “You’re trying to distract me,” he accuses, gliding a wide palm up your side. You shake your head and keep twirling his hair across your fingertips, marveling at his own softness. “No. I just like your hair.”

“That’s a first,” he snorts, cupping a palm underneath one of your breasts and pulling his thumb over the swelling bud of your nipple. “Here I am, trying to feel you up, and you’re too distracted by my hair to appreciate it. How rude.”

“Shut up,” you gasp out, arching into his hand as he tweaks and plucks at your pebbled tip. “You’re lucky I’m even… mmm… letting you do this.”

“Please. It was your idea, remember?”

Satoru lowers one of his braced arms, letting his weight fall heavily to one side as he keeps his deepening ministrations up. Your fingers are still buried in his hair when he drops his lips to your breast. You feel the flick of his tongue first, and the light tap has you bowing your back, gasping out a faint cry as his rough appendage continues to swipe and twirl over your sensitive flesh. Instinctively, your hands tug at his pearlescent strands and he tilts his head up, fixing you with a lazy stare. “That’s better, looks like I just need to refocus you, huh?” he muses, his words half garbled as he sucks your plump breast into his mouth. He keeps flicking his tongue over you as he suckles, lapping and nipping until you’re writhing under him.

Once he’s satisfied, his free hand lowers to your grinding hips, forcing you to lay flat against the bed, switching his attention to the neglected twin, sucking and pressing open mouthed bites to your damp, shaking skin.

A tight heat is coiling in your core and your thighs rub against each other, trying to cool the sharp pricks of arousal that are coursing through you. As soon as your hands fall from his head, Satoru picks up his pace, licking his sloppy tongue under your breasts and nibbling his way down your quivering stomach. “You’re still wearing way too much,” he scolds, fingers toying with the gold clasp of your pants.

“It’s… oh… difficult to take things off when you… ah–won’t let me move more than two feet from you.” You’d meant it to sound a little firmer, but his constant touch is wearing down your focus, distracting you with brilliant flashes of his luminescent blues and whites.

“Awe, (Y/N),” he whines, popping his hand against your hip, long fingers digging into your swelled curves. “That’s not fair. I told you, I always have my barrier up. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve touched someone, anyone? I mean really touched them?”

“Daw,” you sigh, propping yourself up on your elbows and peering down at him. “You poor thing. The all powerful Satoru Gojo, too honed and practiced with his neutral technique that he can’t even hold anyone’s hand.”

“Ha, such a jerk,” he laughs, exaggerating a wounded frown. “I bare my soul to you and this is how I’m treated?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” you scoff, yanking your legs from under him and popping up on your knees, hands reaching for him, curling under his jaw and urging him upwards. His eyes lock onto yours and the grin that tweaks the corner of his lips gives you an idea. “You said you wanted to touch more of me, right?”

As you wait for your answer, you scoot backwards, making him follow you across the bed, finally luring all of his sprawling form onto the cool sheets. “Mmhm,” he grunts, doing his best to keep close, teasing fingers inches from your skin at all times, always ready to stroke and cup each time you pause. When you hit the headboard you stop, studying his features, admiring the growing hunger that’s screaming its way out of his wide eyes.

“You ever eaten a girl out?”

The question hangs for half a second and you can see his pupils dilate, the black threatening to swallow up the sky streaked blue of his eyes. Then, right when you’re about to tease him for his gaping mouth and flushed cheeks, he’s bowling past you, splaying out against the mattress and pulling you on top of him.

“Fuck, that’s by far the best thing I’ve heard all day. Hell, all month. I’ll likely go to my grave thinking about that question. Ouch! Stop squirming, you’re kneeing me in the ribs.”

“I wouldn’t… Satoru! I can’t breathe if you hold me like that!” His arms are like cables, all tensed muscle and raw strength as he pins you against his heaving chest, lips kissing and nipping at any part of you he can reach.

“Whatever,” he grumbles, sucking a bruise into your arched collarbone. “Hurry up and take your pants off. And don’t say you can’t do it like this, you’re a grade 1 sorcerer, you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Is that going to be part of your teaching regime?” you smart, bucking your hips up so you can unclasp and wiggle your pants down your legs.

“Oooh, you’re right, that sounds good. Damn, I gotta start writing this shit down. That way I can have a whole list of euphemisms. Can you imagine? Molding young minds and helping them to stand up to all the bullshit that those so-called elders make everyone suffer under. All those rules and regulations, the stupid ins and outs they make us all jump through–”

“Hmm,” your voice falls to a gentle hum as you snatch at his chin, stilling his chatter with a single finger against his lips. “That sounds ambitious, but why don’t we take things a little slower, give that mind of yours something else to focus on?”

“Oh?” Satoru smirks, arching an ashen eyebrow at you. “Then you better get up here, before I get distracted again.”

“Don’t you mean down?”

“Huh, down? Ah, I see where the confusion is. Nah, I want you to ride my tongue, baby, so hurry up.” His long arms help him jerk you upward, easily lifting and enticing you forward. That early impatience is peeking out once more, and he pops his head up, nostrils flaring as your uncovered cunt drifts nearer. “Ah, God, I bet you’re so fucking wet. I can smell you from here. Come on, grab onto the headboard and let me get to it.”

Your legs shake as you plant them beside his head and you do your best to steady your pounding heart, pulling a thin stream of air through your parted lips. As soon as you touch the wood of the headboard, he’s gripping your thighs so tightly you’re sure he’s going to leave bruises behind. The tip of his nose is the first thing you feel, and it’s so close to your pulsing clit that you inadvertently cant your hips forward. “Ooh, sensitive, are we?” he crows, nestling himself under you, his breath hot against your dampened folds and wet curls.

The following slick slurp of his tongue and the slow pass of his lips make your head tip back. He’s surprisingly gentle, slowly licking his way along your labia, pulling and sucking as he goes, teasing closer to that tight bud that’s waiting, just a little bit higher.

At first, you worry about crushing him, too caught up in the placement of your weight to fall into the haze his mouth is begging you to slip into. But then his lips latch onto you, careful to mouth in time with the thud of your clit, suckling and squeezing until you can’t help but grind down, earning yourself a sharp groan that reverberates against your trembling skin. Using the weight of the headboard as leverage, you roll your hips over him, shifting in time with his well-placed rhythm.

He’s good, but even the great Satoru Gojo isn’t perfect, not all the time.

When he nips at you a little too hard you shift back, depriving him of your wet heat, loving the petulant sighs and moans he gives you when you do. “Ah, sorry. Gimme a little more time,” he bargains, fingers sinking into the voluptuous curve of your ass, tying to urge you back over his glistening lips. “I’ll do better, (Y/N). Besides, I want you to cum for me. You taste so fucking good and I want it, I want all of it. Hey! Don’t be like that! I said I’d do better. Come back here.”

God, he’s such a brat.

Every time you shift away he’s got another string of exasperated pleas ready, twitching his fingers and shaking his pale head at your impudence. “Less talking,” you moan, shivering as he delves his tongue into you, feeling his grin as your cunt squeezes around his intrusion. “Ok, ok,” he growls, using his brute strength to overpower your tensed legs. “Mmm, yes baby, ah–just relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck, you think as you sink your fingers into his hair, spurring him on, this feels way too good.

When he captures your clit between his teeth and tweaks the tip of his tongue against you, you can’t help but fall to pieces. Your orgasm hits you like a battering ram, seizing hold of your muscles as it rolls through you and scattering a faint spark of spots across your vision. Satoru’s arms wrap around your blindly pistoning hips, helping you to sink closer, ravenously slurping and swallowing down each wave of arousal that hits his gluttonous lips.

You’re still shaking when he pulls out from under you, flipping you bonelessly under him as his hands finally rid himself of his clearly tented and damp pants. Your eyes are just clearing when you catch sight of him, studiously following that trail of white curls to his impressive length. His cock is long, curving proudly toward his chiseled stomach and bubbling a clear string of pre-cum from the flushed tip. You do your best to sit up, but as soon as he catches sight of your movement, his broad palm is pressing you back. “Ah-ah,” he taunts, stroking a hand over his swollen cock and wiping the last of your slick from his face against his shoulder. “Keep still for me, ‘kay?’”

His wide palms spread your legs apart, and he soothes his fingertips along your skin as he tugs a few heady groans from himself. “Fuck, you look so good. You’re so goddamn pretty. When you were sitting there at the bar and you looked so fucking happy I couldn’t take my eyes off you, you just looked so nice. Haven’t even known you a week, and I’m already obsessed with hearing that laugh of yours. You put some kinda spell on me, huh? That what this is?”

“Ugh, stop talking, Satoru,” you threaten, watching the steady ebb and flow of his clenched fist. His cock looks so smooth and you’re desperate to reach for it, to take hold of velvety flesh and see how long it would take for the world’s strongest sorcerer to be putty in your hands.

He arches a pale brow at your blatant stare. “You want it?”

“I want you,” you correct, and the smile that breaks across his handsome face makes your heart squeeze.

“Awe, how can I possibly say no to that?” he asks, gleefully lining himself up with your slit. Despite his early eagerness, he’s taking his time with this part, running the bulbous head of his cock over you, gathering up some of your gossamer strands, slicking himself with your dripping arousal. “Sorry,” he amends when he makes another pass along your folds. “It’s been awhile and I want to take it all in. I don’t wanna rush this.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, lifting your hands to pass them over his stomach, watching as his muscles ripple under your delicate touch. “Just don’t take too long or you’re not going to be on top for much longer.”

“That a threat or a promise, baby?” Satoru leers, finally slipping his tip past that first, tight ring of your entrance. Despite his bravado, his lips curl over his teeth and he lets out a low hiss as he sinks into you, inch by shallow inch. The pressure of his cock makes you arch, legs automatically wrapping around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. He bows his head and his ethereal gaze falls behind his shaking eyelids as he thrusts forward, edging himself along until he bottoms out within you. Fuck, you feel so full.

The stretch of him makes you shake and you’re grateful he’s taking his time when he stills, lips smacking distracted kisses over your heated cheeks and parted lips, giving you time to adjust to him, and he to you. After a few steadying breaths, his teeth bite at the hollow of your throat and he pulls his hips back, grinning as your hands grasp into the sheets, a sharp whine escaping you. He echoes your sentiment, letting a gasping string of curses tumble from his shaking lips as he ruts forward again, one hand gripping at your right leg, prying you from his waist and slinging the trembling limb over his shoulder.

This angle has him pressing against something wonderful and sharp, and you can’t help but gasp out his name as he starts to methodically ram into it, over and over. You can feel him swell at the sound of your pleading moans and you savor the feel of his cock throbbing against your tender walls. “More,” you shudder, fingers trying to hurry his steady hips as he diligently cants into you.

“In a minute,” he grunts, biting at your pliant skin, arms coiling under your back. “This feels too fucking good. Let me just… ah… fuck…”

He slows, moving at a pace that sets your teeth on edge, and you thrash under him. Although his cock is digging against that aching place that’s sending dots and stars across your eyes, it’s not enough pressure. Licking your lips, you worm one of your hands between the two of you and pinch and roll your fingers over your clit, easing some of the tingling bittersweetness that’s pulsing over you.

“Alright, alright, point taken,” Satoru chuckles, releasing your leg from his tight grip and re-lacing it around his hips. “How do you want it, baby? You want it fast? Or do you want it hard? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, peeking up at his enthralling cerulean, willingly ensnaring yourself in the intensity of his gaze. “I just want more of you.”

“Tch,” he hums, cupping a hand against your warm cheek. “Don’t say shit like that, I might end up falling for you.”

The laugh that echoes from your lips is swiftly cut off by a gasp as he abruptly ups the pace of his thrusts. He’s quick, but he’s still listening and watching for what you like. When you moan he’s right there with you, steadying his rhythm, and when you call out his name, he digs a little harder.

It’s too much. It feels raw, like you’re scratching at a cut. Like there’s some itch that you just can’t reach.

All of it, the feel of his meaty balls slapping against the sticky plushness of your ass, and those breathy moans makes your head spin. The intensity of the moment slips your fingers from your clit, but he makes up for their loss by grinding down each time he sinks into your cunt, scraping the hard edge of his pelvic bone against your throbbing bud.

He’s good. Fuck.

You can feel the hazy slope of your orgasm approaching and you blindly arch up each time he careens downward, ensuring that he’s hitting right where you need him to. His movements start to hit a lull as he slips into his own fog of lingering pleasure, dipping his head to your neck and sighing contentedly when you kiss at his temple. But the tenderness of your touch must knock him out of his own whirring thoughts and he rewards you with another set of rapid fire thrusts, his lips pulling from your neck to seek out yours, kissing and nipping until you’re gasping for air.

“Mmmm,” he moans, breath hot against your skin. “You feel so good and you’re getting so fucking tight. You gonna’ cum for me? One more time?”

You do your best to gulp out a reply, but the abrupt press of his calloused thumb against your clit makes you shake instead, a tingling rush of heady arousal racing its way up your spine. Smiling down at your awed expression, he lifts his fingers away and uncoils your legs from his waist, flinging them both over his broad shoulders, his knees settling forward as he continues to roughly thrusts his hips forward, driving you quivering body into the soft sheets.

“You like that? Does it feel good? Does it? Fuck baby, I’m begging you, give it to me one more time. Can you do that for me? Can you cum for me? I want you to cum on my dick, ah, come on (Y/N), just once more, that’s all I’m asking. You can do it, can’t you?”

He’s rasping his questions against the shell of your ear, hands cupping at the side of your face, keeping you close as he races toward his own end, voice lifting into a frantic plea as he hurtles closer, desperate to feel your satisfaction rippling around him before he completely looses himself to the aching pleasure of your body.

“I–” you choke out, arms lacing around his back, nails pressing half moons into his skin. He moans at the bite of your touch and tilts your hips upward, seeking more of you.

That change is all it takes.

The tip of his cock presses down, lifts, and then suddenly you’re seeing stars.

“I’m… yes! Oh, fuck. Satoru, just like that. Don’t… don’t stop!” For once, he doesn’t tease. He just smiles, his face flushed, pale cheeks dusted a pleased pink and repeats the motion, careful to keep everything absolutely steady. The repeated push and pull, the warmth of your cunt, the feel of your skin, it’s making his cock throb and his heart race, but he’s determined to see you break.

There. There it is. Fuck, you’re so pretty.

On an outward pull of his hips, your back arches and your thighs tense and he lets out a long growl, quickly breaking his fastidious rhythm and sinking back into you, gasping as you flutter around him. A new flush of wetness leaks out of your cunt and squelches between your pinned legs, dripping over the cleft of your ass.

He only lasts a few extra ruts, but the feel of him swelling and pulsing inside your tender pussy almost topples you over the edge again and you cling to him in the aftermath of his release, your heaving breasts catching against his flat pectorals.

With a quick peck, he slowly lowers your legs and eases himself out of you, blue eyes widening at the sight of his softening hardness leaving your leaking pussy. “I don’t know which I like better,” he contemplates, leaning back on his haunches and slicking his index finger up the pooling dribble you’ve both left behind, spreading the spidery traces across his hand. “You wet and dripping for me or filled to the brim with my cum.” His lewd comment makes you huff out a low groan of exasperation and you roll off of the bed, shaking your head as you steady yourself and walk toward the bathroom.

After a brisk rinse in the shower, you pad back into the darkened room, fully expecting to see an empty bed. You’re not sure why that’s your first thought, but something about Satoru doesn’t scream: I’m the kind of guy who likes post coitus cuddles. So the sight of him, bundled under your sheets, white hair poking just above the edge of the blankets, is a surprise.

“Oh,” you pause, dropping your towel on the floor as you openly gape at him. “You’re still here… I, well, I figured you’d take off.”

“Huh?” Satoru croaks, popping his head up, his face comically askew. “What kinda guy do you think I am?”

“Apparently the kind that stays over,” you snicker, digging around for your discarded bra and panties.

He lets out a mock gasp, popping a hand against his cheek. “How could you say that! And after I gallantly brought you back here?”

“And fucked me,” you remind him, slipping your lacy underwear back on and re-adjusting the clasp of your bra.

“That too!” he qualifies, arching a pale eyebrow at your impassive face. “I’d say I was pretty generous. You did cum twice after all.”

“Oh my God,” you sigh, crossing your arms across your chest and perching beside the edge of the bed, shaking your head at the sprawling man under your covers.

“Come on, you wouldn’t seriously make me walk all the way back to the school at this hour. What if something happens to me? How could you live with yourself, knowing you kicked me out into the cold?”

“It’s summer,” you point out, rolling your eyes. “And you’re… what six foot three… and you have the legendary six eyes… I mean, I think you’ll be ok.”

“(Y/N),” Satoru begins, narrowing those bright blue eyes at you.

“Yeah?”

“Is it your habit to sleep with helpless guys and then kick them out? You’re so cruel.”

“Stop it,” you warn, snatching at the sheets and yanking them off of his naked form.

“No!” he protests, fingers clutching vainly at the thin cover. “Your bed is so nice! Come on, I’ll be good and I don’t snore. Well, not that I know of anyway…”

“Ugh, fine. I don’t have the energy for this and we have to be up in four hours. Just shush and scoot over.”

“Oh? Do you not have the energy because I fucked it out of you?”

“I’m sorry, were you wanting to stay the night?”

“Alright, alright,” he splays his hands up in supplication and makes room for you, watching closely as you curl up beside him, a smile playing over his lips. “Hey,” he asks once you’ve closed your eyes, leaning close to your reposed form.

“What?” you groan, cracking an eye open.

“Can I be the little spoon?”

“Satoru…”

“Mmhm?”

“Shut up.”

notes: hehe. i feel like he’d be so freaking chatty in bed. plus, how could i not make him a little touched starved? stop making me like characters that just wanna be held universe, gosh :3c

#jjk friday #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #reader insert #jjk imagines

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years ago

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Blood in the Library

Well, I finished it even though I was planning on posting it tomorrow. Not my grandest piece, but to me it has a delectable taste of whump and a little comfort seasoning. Mmmm yum. You can tell I'm hungry. Anway, this is shorter than normal, but, not to be a spoiler, still has my classic cliffhanger.

Warnings: gorey descriptions of blood, collapse/loss of consciousness, descriptions of murder, begging, descriptions of someone's lack of weight and muscles

Then he just... collapsed?

Fell down the stairs in epic slow-mo, eyes turning white just before his head cracked against the concrete surface. Face growing into a snowy blanch as his injuries caught up to his rapidly tiring body.

Civilian rushed forward in a desperate attempt to catch him, but it was an effort close to pointless. He had already fallen deep into a pit of blackness and painless sleep.

Civilian scooped up his fevered body and hugged him close. His bloody head lolled limply across her chest until it settled in the crease of her shoulder, content to just rest there for eternity.

Civilian's eyes scouted his body, taking in the countless bruises and pools of blood. It was a horrendous sight- one that would make a squeamish person retch with revolting nausea. But she wasn't one for that, so she pressed her hands firmly against the worst of the bubbling blood geysers to staunch the streaming flow.

When the blood flow minimized to a manageable amount, she grabbed her phone and proceeded to call the ambulance, but a weak hand stopped her.

Civilian looked down to see fluttering indigo-colored eyes meeting her own rustic browns. They were, indeed, more than beautiful- dare say, gorgeous to some degree. Civilian couldn't help but admire them. The way green swirled into navy... it was a sight that she didn't want to stop seeing.

But of course, her wish was denied when the poking and prodding of the situation reminded her that the injured man was awake and quite distressed.

"No," he begged. "No...nnn, no stop stop... phsl-phslease please no." His shaky hand floated about aimlessly, but the dark azure eyes guaranteed the intensity of the weakly said plea.

For a split second, Civilian was dumbfounded before realizing that she needed to comfort and soothe the man.

"Hey," she set down the phone. Immediately, the man's anguished features relaxed, looking approvingly at the laid phone.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," she told him, not quite understanding his sudden placidity- the painless look of serenity in those irises. It was as if all agony faded with the simple gesture, but the quivering of his lips and sporadic twitches determined otherwise.

"Not that," he slurred in incomplete syllables, his eyes closing despite his best efforts to stay conscious.

"Okay," Civilian went to pick up her phone again, to call the much needed paramedic, but a sudden outburst from the man made her drop the phone, startled.

"No amb'lanch," he cried, but it was a waste if energy. His head dropped back against her, eyes rolling backwards once again. Civilian shook him to the waking world.

"Who are you?" She asked as if that would give her some clearance about not calling the ambulance.

"Villain..." He mumbled, slurred and incoherent, but Civilian heard it as if it was screamed at her. Then, his eyes shut all the way and he was lost to the world.

Civilian dropped the man and scurried to her feet, hands grappling at her cheeks. It was... Villain. One of the most feared criminals in the whole city. The one who strung people up by wires to slowly kill them in the most gruesome way possible.

The one that even heroes didn't dare to cross.

And he was passed out at her feet, bleeding and barely breathing.

She should've turned him in. Turned him in so that the proper authorities could finally arrest the menace that plagued the city- especially now that he was subdued and probably very compliant.

Yet... he was shivering. Shivering from the cold, exhaustion, and pain. It would be merciless to leave him to suffer- possibly die- alone. Civilian had some morals affer all.

Villain didn't. That much was clear from the way he razed cities to the ground. It was clear from the way he mercilessly slaughtered innocents. And it was more than clear when he threw bombs in front of traffic to kill and destroy everything within a half mile radius.

But he was injured.

But he had killed so many others without even blinking an eye.

No one else had to die.

Now, Civilian was not a model of muscles. She was more accurately described as a "bag of bones". Heck, some people even told her to go to a doctor- she had grown in size since then, but still.

So, linking her arms and dragging the villain a foot unlocked new muscles that she didn't even know she had. Not that she had the muscles, but after walking just a little bit, she was exhausted and sore.

"How?" She sighed and slumped down to the ground. The villain was still asleep, not bothered by the ninety degree turn Civilian maneuvered him in.

The library that Civilian volunteered at was lazily sitting itself against the sunset in a silhouetted painting. The stairs leading up to it- the ones Villain fell down- weren't too tall... ish? No, they towered over the pair, guarding the marbled building. White pillars supported the small tiled canopy with vigor, giving the quaint building a classic Roman Empire vibe.

Inside was a small isolated office where Civilian spent her lunch break. It had an expresso machine to satisfy her zealous cravings for the brunette liquid with white creamer topping.

It also had a couple comfortable bean bags that were perfect for the villain to recline upon until he woke up. It wasn't like Civilian was planning on actually tending to the vibrant red gashes. Dragging him to a heated room was enough- a gifted treasure to the villain, she believed- and it would be unlawful to go any further.

It took maybe an hour until the fit figure and skinny one barged through the glass door- the only portion of the exterior that did not hold that Pompeii look. Civilian was dripping with sweat, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Villain had not moved. His face was still and lubricant.

Civilian laid Villain upon the red castle-like carpet that spread through the hallway of the library before shutting the dark sky out, closing the door and locking it.

She then took Villain to the earlier mentioned office with more ease for the red carpet made him slide like a bolt drenched in WD-40. She opened the office. Thankfully, unlike every other room in the building, the walls barricading it were made of plaster, not transparent diamond-shaped panel windows.

She laid him upon a gray beanbag and assessed his wounds before turning to leave.

But a small whimper made her spin back around.

Villain was awake, taking in his surroundings with dazed interest- not really understanding, but realizing his situation, or dilemma, depending on what his half-delirious mind thought. Finally, after a few slow moments of searching the walls for some hidden answer, those dazzling- and slightly familiar- eyes landed on the tiny body of Civilian.

Civilian didn't know what to say. Any statement her mind conjured was shot down with a contradicting question of "what if he asks this" or "won't that make me seem like I care for him".

So she settled on a simple question that anyone would've ask anyone.

"How are you feeling?"

The villain took a while to make sense of the peculiar question. He was, in fact, never asked that from anyone.

Not even-

He shuddered, not wanting to think of the one person who might've once cared for him.

"Weird," the villain replied, eyes shifting downwards to study the masterpiece done on him. Like paint, once it dried on the flesh-covered canvas, it would be an artist's hard work.

The end result.

"Like how?" Civilian wondered, despite her natural instincts to leave.

"Dizzy? Pain, hurts. Don't know," Villain forced himself to meet those kind looking eyes.

"You lost a lot of blood," Civilian answered, setting her body next to his. "I'm pretty sure these need stitches."

Villain nodded, blue eyes ragged with an uncharacteristic emotion. Fear, almost.

"You... Civ'lian?" Villain slurred, his body threatening to shut down once again.

"Yes," Civilian replied. "I am. And you are Villain." The words tasted like hot sauce in her mouth. She just admitted outloud to herself that she was caring for a villain. The most notoriously evil villain in the city, if that fact wasn't stated enough.

"Know you..."

"No, I think you are delirious."

"No. Know you," the villain asserted.

"Okay... who did this to you?" Civilian asked, watching the rapidly fading Villain's face.

"My boss and m' brother," the villain responded, his eyes slipping shut. "...Hero."

The world seemed to stop as the last word was uttered. Hero?

Those eyes. The familiar captivating gaze held in those blueberry-flavored irises. The notable green swirls, speckles of black dust... those were Hero's eyes.

Those were her boyfriend's eyes.

#villain whumpee #civilian caretaker #hero whumper #villain x civilian #writing #hero x civilian #blood tw #tw death mention #heros and villains

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cakesunflower · 5 years ago

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Who’s Gonna Love You Like Me? [Brother’s Best Friend!Calum AU] Part 8

A/N: apologies that it took me over a month to update this fic!! but now i’m done with college (big yikes) so now i can get back to writing and updating on a semi regular basis :-)

“Josie—got a cutie waiting for you in the front.” Josie glanced up at Sarah’s words, pulled out of her conversation with Lizzie as she swiveled in the leather salon chair at one of her stations. Her eyes caught sight of Calum leaning against the desk, her eyes immediately meeting his as he raised two fingers up in a wave.

Josie excused herself from Lizzie, walking down the length of the salon with her eyebrows raised and a surprised smile curling at her lips, not expecting him to drop by. “Hey,” she greeted with a small laugh, glancing at the receptionist, Maddie. “I’m gonna step out real quick.”

Maddie hummed in response and Josie grasped Calum’s wrist, pulling him outside for some privacy. Talking amongst Los Angeles pedestrian traffic was better than in front of all her coworkers, even if they were some of the chillest people she’d ever met. The sun was bright, as always, and Josie let out a laugh as Calum pressed her against the brick wall next to the window of the salon. “Hi—what’re you doing here?” Josie greeted.

Calum smiled, his frame shielding Josie from the sun as he gripped her hips. “Wanted to see you real quick and ask you somethin’,” he responded, pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. Josie inhaled sharply as she kissed him back, the smile evident on her lips. When they pulled away, Calum raised a hand to curl his finger around a stray lock of her blonde hair, his grin never leaving at Josie’s curious expression. Brushing his nose against hers, voice dropping low, Calum asked, “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Josie’s heart jumped at his words, her grin widening as his finger brushed along her cheek. Her own hand had reached up to play with the chain around his neck, an accessory she thought he worked unfairly well, as she bit down on her grinning lip. Her cheeks were already hurting from the grin on her face, excitement coursing through her veins. She felt silly, being so thrilled with the simple question Calum asked her, but she would be lying if she said it wasn’t one she had been waiting for.

“I would love to,” Josie responded, feeling a warmth spread in her cheeks under Calum’s gaze. She kind of loved how he so easily made her blush.

“Great,” Calum smirked, hips pressing against hers. “You’re off tomorrow, right?” Josie nodded with a hum. “Alright—I’ll pick you up at your room at five.”

She scoffed out a laugh. “Five?” Josie asked with a raise of her eyebrows. “It’s a bit early for dinner, isn’t it?” She normally ate at seven, years of classes interfering with her schedule having an effect on when she ate.

“Not for what I’ve got in mind.” Calum chuckled, winding his arms around her waist to keep her close. “None of that dinner and a movie bullshit. I got somethin’ planned for us.” He pressed another kiss to her lips before murmuring, “Alright, get back to work.”

Josie smiled, pressing her hands to his chest, reluctant to move away from him. But right before she did, her smile turned coy. “Just so you know—I’d totally be fine with a dinner and movie with you.”

He grinned as she pulled away, heading back to the door. “Noted.”

For the rest of her shift at work, Josie couldn’t help but think Calum was a bit of a tease. She loved that he had been impatient enough to arrive at the salon to ask her on a date in person, loved the few kisses they stole before she had to go back inside. But concentrating on her next few clients had proven to be difficult, to busy trying to school her features to hide the wide grin that threatened to erupt at the mere thought of going on a date with Calum. Her excitement buzzed at her veins, crackling like electricity, and she wondered what he had planned for the two of them.

Later that night, when Luke was in his bedroom getting ready to turn in for the night, Josie was leaving the kitchen to go into her own when Calum entered the living room, his shift for the day a short one. Josie’s eyes widened in excitement at the sight of him, making sure the water didn’t spill from her glass as she quickly ran over to him and grasped his hand.

“Can I get a hint for where we’re going tomorrow?” she asked with a sweet smile, looking up at him with big blue eyes in hopes to get him to give in.

But Calum knew how to handle Josie. He scoffed with a roll of his eyes, lips curling up to grin as he ran his tongue along his lower lip. “Not happenin’, sweetheart,” he responded, making Josie’s lips fall into a pout. “Just don’t wear heels.”

Josie scoffed, gaping up at him. “That’s so vague, Calum.”

He moved past her, a ghost of a smirk apparent as he took off the cushions on the couch in preparation to pull out the bed. As Josie walked over to help him, he pointed out, “At least you know it’s not fancy.”

Josie didn’t hesitate in taking one of the cushions and throwing it at Calum with a huff. He merely laughed, catching it easily before it hit him and placing it on the ground. “You’re the worst,” she declared, fixing his pillow before walking around the bed to head up the stairs to turn in for the night.

Behind her, she could hear the smile in Calum’s voice as he asked, “What, no goodnight kiss?”

Raising an eyebrow, she looked at him over her shoulder. “Do you think you deserve it?”

Calum’s face scrunched, eyebrows drawing together and lips pulling downwards as he scoffed. “Yes.” Josie watched him, fighting off the amused smile that threatened to grow as he approached her, his dark eyes never leaving her blue. “All this sneaking around, keeping my hands to myself so we don’t get caught? Fuck yeah, I deserve a damn goodnight kiss,” he grunted.

She couldn’t fight the grin that split across her face, only for it to be obscured by Calum’s hand placing itself on the back of her neck, using it to tug her closer as he bent down to close the gap between the two of them. Josie wasn’t about to push him away, though she still smiled against Calum’s lips as she kissed him back. He tasted like minty toothpaste and Josie was no stranger to the subtle yet exciting thrill she felt shoot down her spine at the act of so openly kissing him in her house, knowing her brother was just up the stairs.

She would much rather embrace the surge of exhilaration of sneaking around behind Luke’s back than the guilt of keeping such a secret from him.

*****

As he had said, there was a knock on Josie’s bedroom door at five in the afternoon the next day, right when she had finished tying the laces to her most comfortable pairs of red Converse. She paired it with a yellow sundress, tight around the bodice and fluttering around her mid thigh, and it consisted of small red roses that matched her shoes. Calum had said it wasn’t a fancy date, so Josie hoped her outfit choice was fitting to whatever he had planned for them.

In the couple of seconds it took for Josie to walk from her bed to the door, she did her best to tamp down on the excited flutter that had been a consistent presence in her stomach since yesterday. It was kind of funny; her and Calum were already together, obviously, but the idea on going on their first date made it seem all the more official. Like they were actually doing this—despite having been doing it for a while. Being with Calum, even though they were sneaking around, brought Josie a sense of calmness that she hadn’t experienced with another guy before. As though in the grand scheme of things, she had nothing to worry about, no reason to doubt Calum or what they had.

It was refreshing and exactly what she needed.

Him. He was exactly what she needed.

When Josie opened the door, her grin easily curled at her lips at the sight of Calum, dressed in his favorite baggy black pants, a silver belt chain looped on the side, with a white shirt tucked in and his shining black leather jacket on top. He looked casual and comfortable and so unbelievably good—if Josie lacked better control of herself, she’d melt into a puddle right then and there.

Instead, a smile graced her pink lips, leaning against her door as she playfully mused, “Well, hello there.”

His boyish charm was ever present as he returned, “I’m here to pick up a blonde bombshell.”

At that, Josie let out a very unladylike snort, pushing herself away from the door as she turned her back to him to grab her purse off the dresser. “Don’t ever call me that again,” Josie laughed, grabbing her denim jacket in case she needed it. Raising an eyebrow, hoping to filter some of the overwhelming excitement she felt, Josie asked, “We out?”

Calum grinned and the glimmer in his eyes told Josie he was just as excited, and nervous, as she was. “Yes, ma’am.”

They got in his car and were on the road just moments later, all the while Calum kept expertly shut about where they were going. After shutting her down for the sixth time, Calum scoffed before letting out a laugh, shooting her a look as he said, “You’re the most impatient person I’ve ever met.”

Josie shot him a skeptical look as his playlist played a Coldplay song. “More than Ashton?” she questioned, the smugness seeping into her voice because she knew she wasn’t nearly as bad as their friend.

Calum scoffed, one hand on the wheel as his left elbow remained propped on the door, the window down to let in the pleasant breeze. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

Josie’s jaw dropped, a gasp escaping her as she pointed at him accusingly. “That’s fucked up.”

He merely grinned, shifting so his left hand was on the wheel to allow his right hand to grab her pointing finger before maneuvering her hand so he could lace their fingers together. The gesture only widened Josie’s smile, warming her cheeks as she felt the breeze dance through her blonde tresses as Calum drove them to whatever secret destination he planned for. Josie eventually resigned herself to Calum’s desire of wanting to keep things under wraps, enjoying the car ride with him as the music played, the wind billowed in her ears and his fingers remained laced with hers.

The calm that settled over her was welcomed, enjoying the sensation of her hair tickling her skin as it danced in the wind and the warmth Calum’s touch brought. Already, Josie knew this was probably the best date she’d been on. Simply because it was with Calum.

Soon enough, they arrived at their destination, and Josie’s eyebrows raised as they passed the sign that read their arrival at Lake Balboa Park as Calum pulled into a parking lot. Josie hadn’t been to Lake Balboa before, but there were barely any clouds and the branches on pretty cherry blossom trees, and as she stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching underneath her shoes, the smile was easily lifting her lips.

Especially when Calum walked to the trunk of the car, opened it, and revealed a folded blanket and, quite literally, a sizable picnic basket that had Josie’s smile widening all the more. Her lips were parted in surprise, gaze flickering so her blue eyes could meet Calum’s triumphant brown ones, and no amount of sunshine could spread warmth throughout Josie’s body like Calum did in that moment. He grabbed the blanket and tossed it at her, which Josie caught even in the midst of her shocked state, and the wide grin he wore told her he knew just how off guard he’d caught her.

“A picnic?” she asked, well aware of the answer, the excitement evident in her tone and the way her dimples deepened at her grin. It was taking a lot of willpower not to bounce on the balls of her feet. “Stop—that’s so romantic.”

Calum smirked as he shut the trunk, quirking an eyebrow as they began walking. “Why do you sound so surprised? I can be romantic,” he added with a huff.

Josie snorted, hugging the blanket to her chest as she shot Calum a look. The sarcasm was evident in her tone when she drawled, “Yeah, pushing me into the pull because Luke came home just screams romance.”

He shot her a flat look and Josie merely smiled sweetly, and though she was teasing him, she found the memory funny. It had happened only a few days ago when the two of them had been enjoying their backyard pool. At one point, they’d gotten out, were in the middle of kissing, when Luke’s loud voice announced his arrival and, in a panic, Calum had pushed Josie into the pool. When she had resurfaced, she stared at him in utter disbelief while Calum had the decency to look just as surprised at his actions.

The two of them continued down the path, greenery and flora around them and Josie was mesmerized by the sight of the lake, noticing the ducks that swam contently and the few pedal boats among them. Eventually, Calum found a nice spot under a tree right on the soft grass, the lake in front of them, and Josie smiled as she spread the blanket before the two of them settled on it.

“Alright,” Josie grinned, sitting comfortably with her legs folded beneath her, leaning back on one hand as her gaze met Calum’s. “Dazzle me with romance.”

She watched intently as Calum began pulling out the items he had packed, consisting of cloth napkins, plates, utensils, two glasses to drink the red wine—which made Josie a lot more excited than it should’ve. She then noted all of the food he brought, her eyebrows raising and lips parting at the dishes; fresh corn and tomato fettuccini, shrimp summer rolls, cut up pieces of toasted baguette, and chocolate truffles for dessert.

Holy shit. “Did you make these?” Josie asked, the awe evident in her voice as she eyed the fettuccini and shrimp rolls.

Calum’s gaze met hers and Josie saw the pride dancing in his dark eyes, smiling as he answered, “Sure did.” Then, with a smirk, he asked, “Are you dazzled yet?”

And a little bit in love, but Josie kept that fleeting thought to herself.

Instead, she leaned forward, right hand finding the back of Calum’s neck as she pulled him close, hoping her kiss would convey just how amazing all of this was, how much she appreciated it. Calum truly went out of his way to make their first date special, taking advantage of the perfect weather and putting his skills in the kitchen to use in making the food that looked and smelled delicious. There was a permanent warmth in Josie’s chest; no one had ever made such an effort for her before, and it was impossible to keep the smile off her tingling lips after she slowly pulled away from Calum.

His smile remained, brushing his nose against hers as he said, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Calum completed the set up by pulling out his phone and letting some music gently play as he poured them some wine before they indulged in the food he had prepared. Josie couldn’t keep the smile off her face even if she tried as they ate, drank, talked. Her gaze never left Calum, admiring the way the sun peeked through the cherry blossom tree above them and splashed against him in certain spots, feeling like she was in the scene of a damn movie as a flower occasionally fluttered down and brushed against her skin.

Eventually, after they’d finished the delicious food Calum had made and the wine was pleasantly warming her up, Josie sat with her back against the tree and Calum’s head resting in her lap. Her fingers were running through his dark hair, the strands soft between the digits, and she admired the content smile on his face, eyes shut as he reveled in the feel of her fingers in his hair.

They’d been at the lake for over an hour or so, judging by the way the sun was slowly making its descent, but neither of them made a move to leave. Instead, Josie picked up one of the cherry blossoms that had fallen next to her, holding the pink flower by its short stem and twirling it before glancing down at Calum. With a gentle smile upturning her lips, Josie held it upside down before lowering it, tickling the tip of his nose with the petal.

She watched as his nose wrinkled, closed eyes scrunching at the sensation as his lips curled into a close mouthed smile. The peaceful expression that rested on his features transformed into an amused grin, breathing out a laugh as Josie hummed, “Thank you for today, Cal.”

He opened his eyes then, dark brown looking up into bright blue, and his smile softened. The natural pinkness in his cheeks tempted Josie to kiss them as she brushed some curls away from his forehead. Calum reach his left hand up, the silver bracelet dropping away from his wrist as he cupped Josie’s cheek. “Anythin’ for you, pretty girl,” Calum told her earnestly.

The blush returned to her cheeks, but she didn’t have much time to register it as Calum pushed himself up and brought her down enough for their lips to meet in the middle. Josie melted into him, into the kiss, and came to the conclusion if a perfect day were to exist, it would be this.

They’d watched the sunset after, and as the cicadas began chirping throughout the darkened park, the two of them packed up the picnic and, with Calum’s fingers intertwining with hers, made their way back to his car. The drive home, as always, was filled with chatter and music, and when they pulled into the driveway, Josie sat up. “Oh, Luke’s home.”

She glanced at Calum, who didn’t look troubled at all, and it wasn’t lost on Josie how his calm managed to relax her effortlessly. So the two of them got out of the car, deciding to bring in the picnic basket—the most damning evidence of their outing—later on when there was no chance of Luke catching sight of it.

Josie chewed on her lower lip, unable to stop the nervous habit, as they walked into the house, instantly catching the attention of her brother, who was on the living room couch watching TV. “Hey,” he greeted before turning to look at the two of them, eyebrows raising as a corner of his mouth lifted in amusement. “Where’re you coming from all dressed up—a hot date?” he joked, gazing at Josie questioningly.

She knew he was completely kidding around, but the oblivious truth in Luke’s words had Josie’s heart momentarily stopping, stomach dropping before she forced herself to scoff. “No—I was out with some friends and asked Calum to pick me up.”

It would be better if she didn’t focus on how swiftly that lie escaped her.

Next to her, Calum huffed. “What, I don’t look all dressed up?”

Josie wanted to nudge him into silence as Luke gave him a once over before offering a single shrug. “Nah,” he answered before turning to watch TV once more, unaware to the scowl that scrunched at Calum’s eyebrows, mildly affronted.

Despite herself, Josie couldn’t fight off the amused smile upturning her lips as Calum made a face at the back of Luke’s, so childish and boyish and endearing. Leaning close to him, her voice a whisper, she chanced the risk of Luke hearing her as she hummed, “I think you look hot.”

The smug smirk on Calum’s face, accompanied by the wink he sent her, made the risk worth it.

*****

“Go on without me—leave me here to explode in a mess of spaghetti sauce.”

Josie caught Luke’s bemused eye roll as the rest of the boys chuckled at her antics, though she was serious about the implication of being unable to move. She dropped down on a bench on the sidewalk, her stomach feeling heavy after the lunch she practically inhaled; the portion of spaghetti had been the size of her head, almost, and Josie had practically licked the dish clean. And although her mouth was quite happy with the delicious explosion of taste, her stomach was another issue. She genuinely felt like she couldn’t move.

And the fact that the cars were parked a few several blocks away. . . Josie didn’t think she could make it.

“Alright, Lil’ H,” Ashton spoke up, making his way to her and promptly ignoring the distasteful scrunch of her face at the nickname he’d uttered. It was one he and the rest of the boys coined for her back when they were a lot younger, and although they outgrew the use of it, there were still some instances where they’d mention it. Josie had never liked it. She watched as he stood in front of her before turning his back to her, wiggling his fingers out at the seated girl as he said, “Hop on.”

Her eyes lit up, understanding that he was offering her a piggy back ride. Not needing to be told twice, Josie got up as Ashton crouched down enough so it was easy for her to hop onto his back, arms winding loosely around his neck as his hands gripped her thighs to keep her up as he stood straight. She grinned where she was settled on his back, catching the exasperated shake of Luke’s head and the fond grins on Michael and Calum’s faces before they all continued on their way.

Moments like these made Josie a lot happier than one would think. For as long as she and Luke knew the boys, Josie had always feared that she was encroaching on her brother’s friendship with them. When they were kids and she would sometimes tag along, at first Luke had been irritated, but his fondness for Josie always won out in the end, and he’d bring her along to get food or to the park when he would go with the boys. Because of that, the rest of them grew fond of her too. It wasn’t hard, either—it wasn’t like there was years and years separating her from them in age. Only a couple, but she was still Luke’s little sister. And even though they would harmlessly tease her for that, always playful and never spiteful, there had been moments when Josie would think they were sick of her tagging along when she did.

Now, though, with all of them in their twenties, that feeling never came back. Even if it did, Josie knew that Luke would never allow for it to stay for too long. Same went for the other boys. And Josie loved them for it.

“Come to think of it—I don’t think it’s that great of an idea for you to give me a piggy back ride after eating,” Josie piped up, glancing down at Ashton with a raise of her eyebrows.

He made a noncommittal sound, utterly at ease as they continued. “It’s either this or listen to you complain—which I can totally do without.”

Josie scoffed at his teasing as she heard Calum lowly chuckle next to them. “I’ve got my arms around you, Irwin. I can easily choke you.”

She couldn’t quite see his face, but Josie heard the smirk in Ashton’s voice as he responded, “Sounds kinky.”

Luke, having heard him, shot Ashton a scandalized look that the rest of them merely laughed at. Josie was sure she heard him mutter something about his friends corrupting his little sister, and she rolled her lips into her mouth as she glanced down at Calum to her right. He met her gaze, mirth and mischief both dancing in his eyes, silently letting her know he’d heard Luke as well.

They kept making their way down the sidewalk until Michael stopped in front of the glass walls of a vintage looking record store. He didn’t even have to tell them he wanted to go in before everyone was already turning towards the shop, Josie hopping off from Ashton’s back as she wandered inside. It smelt just like Josie thought it would; of plastic wrap, laminated cardboard, and heavily treaded carpet, yet there was something familiar about it as she danced the tips of her fingers over a few records stacked on the table in front of her.

They all shuffled through the aisles, looking at the various records, an unfamiliar classic rock song playing in the background. As Josie moved, she happened to glance up, only to freeze when her eyes startlingly met an achingly familiar pair of green ones. The breath caught in Josie’s throat, nearly choking her, as Austin stood a few tables away, a furrow knitting together his eyebrows as he registered exactly who he was looking at, too. And when he did, the confused frown transformed into a scowl, and the blood in Josie’s veins froze, ironically springing her into action, too.

“Oh, fuck me,” she whispered, unaware of Michael’s confused glance her way. The panic heightened, though, when her ex-boyfriend moved to approach her, and with her eyes widening in alarm, Josie silently turned around and swiftly made her way out of the store, ignoring Michael’s confused calls of her name.

Shit, shit, shit. She did not want to have an unprecedented confrontation with her ex-boyfriend, who—by the looks of it—seemingly had a bone to pick with her. Pushing the door of the store open, Josie stumbled out onto the sidewalk, the fresh air not enough to loosen the tightness of her throat, and she’d barely made it two steps away from the store when Austin’s voice froze her in her tracks.

“Do you ever get tired of running away?”

Josie squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, face scrunching in aggravation before she forced herself to turn around, meeting Austin’s unimpressed gaze. Despite herself, Josie rushed out, “I don’t run away.”

He scoffed, not at all convinced with his arms crossed over his chest. His tattooed biceps was a bit more pronounced under the short sleeves of his shirt than she remembered. He’d been working out, it seemed. “That’s exactly what you just did,” Austin pointed out, a wry smirk tilting at his lips. “What, you didn’t want me to see you with your new boyfriend?”

As if the universe had some kind of personal agenda against her, just as Austin had asked his question, the door behind him opened and out stepped her brother and the rest of the boys. Josie was biting down on the tip of her tongue as Austin stepped away to look at both her and the boys, and the panic quickened the pace of her heart as Austin gave them all a once over.

Luke frowned at Austin, knowing exactly who the guy was, jaw tight as he asked, “What’re you bothering my sister for?”

Just as he had asked that, Josie had simultaneously told Austin, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

She’d desperately wished the words hadn’t fallen past her mouth, noting the brief flicker of Calum’s gaze to her, and Austin rolled his eyes at her words. There was something dancing in his green eyes, and Josie recognized it as his intent of making this as difficult for her as possible, a resentment driven need for some kind of revenge over her breaking up with him more than once.

“No?” Austin cocked his head to the side, challenging. Josie was fully aware of everyone’s gaze on her—especially Calum’s. But she watched as Austin allowed his gaze to wander over the four other men, a sardonic smirk on his lips as he asked, “Tell me, Josie—which one of your brother’s buddies are you fucking around with?”

Her heart jumped out of her body, as if a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over her head as she gaped at Austin and the obvious smug expression he wore. Oh, God. No, no, no. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to go down. She couldn’t even be furious with Austin for pulling this shit—Josie was too busy drowning in the panic and anxiety that churned her stomach, the busy buzz of the street silencing into the background, all too aware of her thundering heart beat. This wasn’t happening.

Josie vaguely heard Luke sputter indignantly, ready to give Austin a piece of his mind, but her ex beat him to it as she watched his gaze take in the other men standing before him. She watched as Austin’s gaze ultimately landed on a stone faced Calum, who also looked about two seconds away from breaking Austin’s nose, before her ex huffed out a humorless laugh through his smirk and jutted his chin at the tattooed brunette. “It’s this one, isn’t it?” He clicked his tongue, a knowing expression flickering across his face. “I saw you with him around campus a couple of months ago. Should’ve known.”

Josie’s gaze flashed to Calum, who didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he was too busy glaring at Austin, hands curled into fists at his side. Michael and Ashton remained silent, the tension enveloping them nearly suffocating as Luke’s confused glare settled on Austin. “Yeah—I told them they should hang out when Cal was visiting. . .”

The way he trailed off, his stare flickering between his hardened best friend and frozen sister, Josie could pick up on his confusion, the skepticism that was filtering into his voice as he looked between the two of them. Luke looked unsure of what to believe, his irritation with Austin’s arrival overshadowed by the bewilderment his accusation brought.

Next to her, Austin snorted. “Looked way more than hanging out to me,” he surmised, and Josie was overcome with the urge to sock him in the jaw, too. God, what was he doing? Why was he doing this?

Of course, she knew. She was just still trying to process.

His green eyes met her unblinking, startled blue ones, and Josie’s heart dropped at the guiltless look in his gaze, utterly unapologetic that he just majorly screwed things up for her. With yet another sardonic smile, he quipped, “Nice to know I’m not the only one you’ve fucked over.” He purposefully looked towards her brother, let out a scoff of contempt, before pushing past them to head back into the store.

Everyone was a bit too shocked to do anything but let him go.

Hesitantly, Josie shifted her gaze and it immediately landed on Calum. He was watching her and Josie’s throat tightened at the concern she was met with. He looked worried—not that Josie blamed him. She was pretty sure she hadn’t taken a breath in the past few minutes.

Calum looked like he wanted to step over to her, to hold her hand, but he also looked conflicted, unsure of what the right move was. Josie wasn’t sure, either. Yet her softened gaze remained on him, hoping her silence would convey that she understood, that this was all so royally fucked.

But then she looked at Luke, who had been watching them this whole time, and Josie’s throat locked up when Luke’s blue eyes narrowed. He took a step away so he could look at both Calum and Josie, eyebrows drawing together as Michael and Ashton exchanged a look. “Is he. . .” Luke trailed off, a disbelieving scoff escaping him as he looked at Calum and Josie. “Is that true? Did you two—”

All she could make out in his tone was one of disbelief, nothing else to give away how he was feeling. Maybe he was as numb as Josie felt.

Her lips parted but no words came out, because Josie truly didn’t know what to say. Should she confirm Austin’s accusation—his truth? Or deny, deny, deny? It seemed that in that moment, all of the sneaking around behind Luke’s back and subtle lies were starting to choke her, daring her to spew out another one right to his face after basically being told the truth from a third party. Sure, maybe Josie could play off Austin’s words as some jealous, resentful ex, and maybe Luke would believe her.

But, God. She was sick of the lies.

Before she could even decide what to do, Calum moved, and Josie’s gaze instantly fell upon him as he came to stand next to her. She watched him, wide eyed and parted lips, as his gaze remained fixed on Luke, who was watching him with sharp eyes. “We aren’t fucking around,” Calum told him, all confident and firm despite the bombshell he was dropping. “And it wasn’t just a random hook up. Josie and I are together.”

Her heart was in her throat, anything she could possibly say dying on her tongue as she looked up at Calum, eyes wide at his confession. They hadn’t quite discussed when the right time would be to tell Luke about them, and Austin had made sure they wouldn’t after what he’d done. And as surprised as Josie was that Calum took it upon himself to confirm the truth, there was also the tiniest bit of relief she felt relax her stiff muscles. The kind of relief that came with letting go of a secret that had been weighing her down for too long.

Calum’s gaze flickered down to her and Josie inhaled softly at the look in his eyes; soft, reassuring, encouraging. It was enough to make it easier for Josie to breathe.

But when she looked back at Luke, who was still silent, it felt as though an iron grasp had found its way around her heart.

And instead of exploding on them in a fury as Josie had feared, Luke remained still, Ashton and Michael watching the scene unfold intently. But Josie remained focused on Luke. His expression was empty, features never giving away what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Luke, who was so expressive, but looked utterly blank in that moment.

Who was quiet. Too quiet—a complete contradiction to the betrayed anger that was swirling in his eyes. And, Josie realized with her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach, Luke’s silence was a whole lot worse than anything she could’ve imagined.

tags: @irwinkitten @loveroflrh @astroashtonio @sweetcherrymike @softforcal @wildflowergrae @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @highfivecalum @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @mycollectionofnuts @cthwldflwr

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years ago

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Supreme Court poised to destroy machine learning security research

US lawmaking has a distinctive failure mode: because of the Constitution's absolute language and extensive jurisprudence, lawmakers can please their base by enacting bad, overreaching or stupid laws and then hope the courts will narrow or overturn them before they detonate.

This moral hazard is not evenly distributed: if you are the party that decries "activist judges" and campaigns on the idea that governments are bad at everything, then enacting bad laws and then having them overturned serves your cause especially well.

On a totally different subject, let's talk about Ronald Reagan. After Reagan saw Matthew Broderick's classic technothriller WAR GAMES, he became convinced that America needed a far-reaching cybercrime bill, something Fed prosecutors had been demanding for years.

That's how the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act (CFAA) came into being: it's a maddeningly badly drafted, overreaching, vague law that potentially felonizes any act that "exceeds your authorization" on someone else's computer system.

Private firms have taken the extreme position that since their terms of service define your "authorization" on their computers, that any violation of the terms of service is a jailable felony.

In practical terms, that means that if you violate a company's terms of service - a sprawling garbage-novella of deliberately impenetrable legalese - they can send you to prison, for a very long time. This is really bad.

Most of the time, of course, Fed prosecutors don't like to charge people criminally for violating ToS, but when they have someone they want to punish for petty reasons they can find a ToS violation and charge them criminally.

That's the Aaron Swartz story: Aaron violated MIT and JSTOR's terms of service, and a prosecutor that Aaron had previously humiliated by beating a bullshit charge was able to re-charge Aaron with 13 felonies and threaten him with 35 years in prison.

(Background: Aaron published a trove of paywalled, public domain court records from PACER, the feds' legal repository. He embarrassed the legal system by showing that these court records that anyone could get at $0.10/page were improperly redacted and exposed crime victims)

(Aaron later scraped a bunch of scientific journal articles he was allowed to access via MIT's network; but the system's ToS said he had to access them manually, not via a small script that downloaded them automatically - this was the felony)

(After using legal maneuvers to draw out the case until Aaron and everyone he could tap was broke, the PACER prosecutors were steaming towards a prison sentence for Aaron; he hanged himself rather than face incarceration)

Over the years the CFAA has had many court cases, and these have produced a "circuit split," with some US courts interpreting CFAA narrowly, and others taking a dangerous, expansive view of its text.

Ever heard the phrase "hard cases make bad law?" The thing about overreaching, vague laws like CFAA is that they can be shaped to criminalize ANY conduct, so if there's someone who did something objectively terrible, vague laws give prosecutors an easy path to "justice."

Nathan Van Buren is an accused dirty cop who sold access to license plate databases to his confederates. Prosecutors decided to charge him under the CFAA, which could indeed mete out severe punishments for this kind of bad behavior.

https://www.eff.org/cases/van-buren-v-united-states

But that punishment comes at a high price: a precedent that could be wielded against ANYONE who violated Terms of Service, something that all of us do, a hundred times a day, without noticing it. It would give prosecutors leeway to do what they did to Aaron, over and over.

The Supreme Court has agreed to hear Van Buren, and, as is customary in this kind of high-stakes hearing, different groups are racing to file amicus ("friend of the court") briefs explaining the knock-on effects of a bad ruling.

In support a briefs, a group of legal, security, AI, and human rights scholars published "Legal Risks of Adversarial Machine Learning Research," exploring the potential impact of Van Buren on the critical work of analyzing machine learning models.

https://arxiv.org/pdf/2006.16179.pdf

Adversarial Machine Learning is the vital process of systematically testing machine learning models to reveal security defects, bias, and other problems. It is high-stakes work: without AML, you can trick car autopilots into steering into oncoming traffic!

AML is also key to revealing racial bias in risk analysis software, facial recognition, predictive policing, hiring algorithms, and a host of other areas in which peoples' freedom, prosperity, safety and very lives are at stake.

The authors explain in admirably plain language how a bad decision in Van Buren puts this enterprise at risk - how it could leave us (literally) flying blind, forced to rely on self-serving assurances of vendors when we trust their systems with every aspect of our world.

This is the worst possible outcome of the moral hazard in American lawmaking: not merely that lawmakers will promulgate bad laws to feed their base in the hopes that courts will strike them down and give them fresh grievances to campaign on.

But rather that these laws will become institutionalized, that they will give rise to questions so technical and nuanced that they slide through the courts and end up enshrined in our justice system.

Depending on the outcome of Van Buren, the CFAA could become an enduring tool for thin-skinned corporate execs and petty, vengeful prosecutors to imprison anyone that displeases them - including the security researchers we rely on to vet our increasingly automated world.

#pluralistic

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andorwhore · 4 years ago

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Saudade - I of VII

Chapter I of VII: Disdain

summary: A year in the life of a rebel with a cause and a rebel in search of one… chapter one: Of all the days for a slicer to break into the wrong ship, today was by far the worst.

author’s note: Here we go, chapter one! This story has been my baby the past few weeks as I’ve worked on it, and I can’t wait to share the finished product with everyone! I’ll mention it again here since I’m sure most readers haven’t seen my preview post -- the name Jai that’s featured in the fic is pronounced Ji (like pi), rather than as Jay.

pairing: Cassian Andor x OC word count: 10,610 (i would say i’m sorry but i’m not) rating: T, eventual R warnings: none (yet)

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter four

[ff.net] [ao3]

Setting foot on the Ring of Kafrene always posed a risk for Cassian Andor. The Ring, being an Empire territory, was always crawling with stormtroopers just waiting to pounce on unsuspecting prey, whether that prey be a rebel or a petty street thief. The trading post was home to Maker knows how many people and races, dense with the traffic of travelers and traders alike no matter the time or day. Cassian was lucky, having not yet encountered any problems with the resentful soldiers, but, then again, he was well-versed in how to keep a low profile, how to evade the Empire forces on each street and lingering outside every shop, how to simply blend into the crowd as if he were any other visiting trader; many of the other rebels he knew through the years weren't quite so lucky.

Cassian had arrived at the Ring of Kafrene not but an hour ago to meet with Tivik, the Rebellion's informant stationed in the colony who, although endlessly trepidatious, was almost always reliable. For months now Cassian had been making routine visits to the Ring to collect intel, each visit bringing the Rebellion small steps closer to being able to take on the Galactic Empire. Many times, Tivik had information that really served little use to Cassian, however, he could never know when a meeting would be a hit or miss.

This particular visit was a miss; all Tivik could provide was information the Rebellion had already known, and though he made no show of chiding Tivik for wasting his time, Cassian was nevertheless miffed about the wasted trip.

Cassian maneuvered through the crowded streets focused and in silence, avoiding any of the usual Kafrene distractions he'd grown accustomed to encountering. The colony was disgustingly overpopulated and became temporary residence for far too many travelers on any given day, drawing the attentions of thieves from every walk of life, whether they be petty pickpockets just looking to grab a few tradables or accomplished slicers intent on draining someone's account of all their credits. Whatever the case, Cassian was careful to avoid everyone on the Ring, both merchants, pedestrians, and thieves alike.

Cassian was so focused on returning to his U-Wing that he hadn't taken immediate notice of the KX security droid walking down the intersecting street ahead of him, though it didn't take the captain very long to spot the robotic eyesore amongst the crowd. It could have been any other KX droid, which there were a small number of in Kafrene, but the slight alteration to it's gait would clue to anyone in the know that this particular model was in fact the reprogrammed K-2SO.

Cassian's brow furrowed as his jaw set, approaching the droid - he was supposed to be waiting back at the ship, but, in true fashion, the droid elected to ignore that particular direction. Trips to Kafrene were always easier when the captain went on his own, but on occasion the droid insisted on tagging along despite Cassian telling him each and every time to just stay on the ship.

K-2SO had already noticed Cassian's approach, and once the man was close and readying to scold the droid as if he were a disobedient child, Kay spoke up first, "There seems to be a particularly high count of stormtroopers today, Cassian."

The captain hadn't made the same observation as the droid, but he didn't allow the statement to distract him from his intent, "I told you not to leave the ship."

"Yes, well, I have a bad feeling about this increased Empire presence, you're better off with me nearby if conflict were to arise." Cassian stared hard up into the eyes of the droid for a few long moments before peeling away his gaze, looking around to assess the number of stormtroopers currently in their proximity. At the moment, he could only spot a pair far down the street that he'd just walked up - he figured that wherever Kay may have noticed the excess stormtroopers had to be nearer to the colony's starport.

"Do you not think your presence might draw their attention to me?" Cassian questioned while turning back to Kay. If a droid could make an expression, Cassian was sure K-2SO was looking down at him with something akin to ridicule. Even the way the droid raised his arm, hand pointed in the direction they'd have to walk to return to their ship, seemed somehow mocking.

"Go, walk ahead, I'll keep my distance." Kay spoke with attitude, to which Cassian side-eyed as he passed by the droid to lead them back to the ship.

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The starport on the Ring of Kafrene was every thief's dream. Ships of traders, merchants, and everything in between were left relatively unattended, any security could be bought off if one had the right connections, and, if one was smart, they could make off with thousands of credits worth of goods. As ships improved and as droid security began to take over, it became more and more challenging for the average thief to get out of the port without being caught, but that meant less competition for the slicers amongst the Ring's residents.

Slicers weren't all that easy to come by on the trading colony. Actually, good ones weren't easy to come by - any amateur that somehow managed to get their hands on scramble keys suddenly started calling themselves slicers. And those were the same amateurs that got themselves thrown into a cell within hours of proclaiming, with severe overconfidence, that they had the skill to hack anyone's computer. No, the thieves drawn to the Ring of Kafrene very rarely had the aptitude for hacking, but then again, the colony wasn't exactly a prime destination for codebreakers to begin with. Slicers were far better suited for the Outer Rim Territories, on planets like Cantonica or Nevarro, where their skills could be put toward big jobs, where they were less likely to be harassed by any kind of authority. To be a slicer in the Expansion Territory was practically asking for trouble, asking for stormtroopers and the Empire to toss one behind bars without mercy.

However, there were a rare few slicers that could get by particularly well on the Ring of Kafrene. One of those infamous slicers, who managed to somehow be renowned in the slums of the colony and yet never encounter any trouble from the Empire, was named Tillian.

Tillian was a man known only by that one name, and very few had the pleasure of learning anything about him beyond that. As far as slicers went, he was arguably one of the best throughout the entirety of the Expansion Territory; and despite his criminal activity, Tillian had the consideration to share his skills with a select few that he saw potential in through the years. And one of those few was Jai'ren Tillian.

Jai was a young woman of unknown origin, but of well-known talent among the underbelly residents of the Ring of Kafrene. She may not have been a strong thief in comparison to all the competition that loitered around the colony, but where she lacked in pickpocketing, she excelled in hacking. Of the half dozen or so that Tillian had trained through the years, Jai proved to be the most apt for the talent of slicing, even from an early age.

Currently, Jai was taking the risk of breaking into multiple ships crammed into Kafrene's overcrowded starport. This wasn't her first, nor did she intend for it to be her last, visit to the port, slicing her way onto ships of all classes and sizes; Jai found that, for her, it was far easier to focus and get a job done when she wasn't distracted by the hustle and bustle of the cramped trading streets, and the risk of sneaking into the parking port was well worth the quiet she needed to get her task done.

Jai had just unlocked a third ship, stuffing her scramble key into the inner pocket of her coat while pushing a stray strand of ashy brown hair back up into her cap, careful to avoid shifting the goggles situated atop it. She threw a cautious glance back over her shoulder, bird-like eyes searching and ears listening to ensure no one had taken notice of her. With a satisfied expression she quickly ducked into the U-Wing and closed the door behind her to avoid any unwanted attention.

Jai stood in the hull, realizing that, despite the appearance from the outside that the ship was large, it's interior was actually a rather cramped space. Nibbling the inside of her lip, she eyed the hull left then right; she realized within a few moments that it didn't look like there was all that much lying around that would be worth anything to her. There were hardly any compartments or cubbies for storing goods, and it looked like the only serious computer aboard the ship wasn't used for much more than tracking whereabouts and sending messages. She let out a derided sigh while sliding her hands into the pockets of her worn pants, fingers toying with a small box she'd grabbed from the last ship she broke into just minutes prior.

'What a waste,' she thought, her eyes scanning the ship again in slow consideration. It looks as if she put in a lot of effort for a whole lot of nothing. But she might as well search for something, anything, to at least deem said effort reasonable - maybe, despite appearances, she could get her hands on something good.

"Right," Jai spoke aloud to herself, extracting her hands and lazily cracking her fingers down in front of her hips. She climbed up the couple of steps into the cockpit, eyeing the equipment briefly before checking every crack and crevice for some kind of valuables. After a minute, she stepped back down into the main hull of the U-Wing, eyes scanning more astutely to make sure she hadn't missed anything obvious. This ship's interior was so small, there was hardly space for much of anything; Jai noted that it would probably have felt cramped if there were any more than four or five people aboard.

As Jai considered the size of the ship, she looked down at her feet, studying the metal floor for a few long moments before her lower lip pushed out appraisingly - unless her eyes were deceiving her, it looked as if some of the floor panels lifted. Jai dropped to one knee to test her theory, finding that there was, in fact, a handle that she twisted to unlock. But she was all too quickly disappointed, finding that what was hidden under the floor was nothing more than a row of collapsible seats. With another frustrated huff, Jai pushed back down and locked the handle back in its place.

And at that same moment, the door to the U-Wing suddenly slid open.

Jai's head shot up so quickly that her cap and goggles nearly fell from her head, her coal eyes wide as they locked onto a man a few years her senior. He was frazzled as his harsh stare burned into her, panting deeply to catch his breath as if he'd been running at top speed. The surprise in his expression upon seeing the unexpected intruder quickly gave way to a look of vexation, brow knotting as he quickly stepped up into the ship, causing Jai to jump to her feet in panic. Her eyes briefly darted past the young man with alarm as she heard the sound of blasters, spotting a KX security droid not far behind. Blindly, Jai's hands fumbled along the wall behind her in hopes that she could somehow find the button to open the second hull door.

With surprising speed, the man jumped forward, slamming Jai against the wall and knocking the wind out of her, one hand putting pressure on the base of her neck and the other roughly gripping her at the elbow of one arm. His voice came out in a loud, rough growl, "Who the hell are you!?"

Jai's hands flew up, one gripping at the hand on her neck, the other to his chest, roughly trying to shove him away. Her black eyes shined with the same intensity as his own as she glared.

"Get off me." She hissed as she heard the droid clamber into the ship, heard the sound of blasters multiplying and growing closer. Tightening his grip on Jai, the man spun them around and shoved her back, Jai stumbling on her heels a few steps until she bumped into the KX droid, expecting it to immediately apprehend them both.

"We have to get out of here." The man spoke urgently to the droid, ignoring Jai as he took a defensive stance up against the wall and out of the line of fire, which had come to a momentary pause, "Get her the hell off my ship!"

Confusion pulled at Jai's expression - this man, who certainly wasn't with the Empire, just gave an Imperial droid orders? The droid interrupted her train of thought as it's large hand dropped onto Jai's shoulder, fingers roughly digging into her skin and causing her to let out a nearly feral hiss. Once more, she was momentarily disoriented as the droid spun her around on her heel, Jai tripping forward from the motion. Her wide eyes stared ahead of her with dread, eyeing the wall of rapidly approaching stormtroopers as they started taking aim once more, assuming her to be a part of whatever kind of trouble this man had stirred up. Jai sharply inhaled as she realized just how deeply she was in over her head.

Panicked instinct took over as Jai attempted to rip away from the KX droid, managing to roughly yank herself away from it's one-handed hold; but she wasn't fast enough to avoid the blast from one of the more trigger-happy troopers, who had misread her quick movement and assumed she was preparing to take action against them.

Jai's abdomen was suddenly searing with pain, as if someone had doused her insides with gasoline and set them on fire. A ragged scream ripped from her throat as Jai collapsed backwards from the impact into the droid before falling to her knees, grasping desperately at her stomach as she dropped.

Though the moment had only lasted a second, to Cassian it was as if it all moved in slow motion. He saw how rapidly this woman's eyes went from anger to panic to pain, how roughly she was shoved back from the power of the shot, and heard how heavily her knees collided with the floor. In that split second he had to make a decision. Did he shove her out onto the port to be left to the stormtroopers' mercy, or did he close the ship door with her still inside? She could have been just a small-time thief… but what if she was a spy? She needed medical attention - maybe he should help her. But if she was a spy… he could always bring her back to Yavin 4 and throw her in a cell for a little while.

In that second of thought, which weighed on Cassian as if it had lasted minutes, he thrust his hand onto the button to close the door before clambering up to the cockpit at top speed. Just as quickly as the door hand closed, the stormtroopers outside started to take fire, their shots ringing out against the U-Wing's metal exterior.

"We need to get out of here now, Kay!" He called authoritatively to the droid that still lingered over the woman, "We'll deal with her later."

Jai cursed under her breath as K-2SO moved to join Cassian in the cockpit. From where she knelt on the floor, curled into herself as she tried to ignore her pain, Jai turned her tear-stricken eyes up in the direction of the pair, her anger bubbling - she got shot because these two assholes did something to piss off the troopers. The fact that they were flying out of the Ring of Kafrene wasn't even a thought in her head as Jai tried to push herself up off the floor, resulting in another agonized shout to leap from between her lips. The sound called Cassian's attention, and he turned in his seat to stare sharply at the woman as she tried to fight against the pain racing through her. He met her eyes, momentarily perturbed by just how pitch black they appeared; the darkness of her eyes made the intensity of her glare all the more fiery and challenging.

Once the ship was a safe distance from the Ring of Kafrene and Cassian was certain Kay could handle the flight back to Yavin 4, he grabbed the medical pack from behind his seat and jumped down to assist the woman, particularly uninterested in having her bleed out on the floor of his U-Wing. Jai had managed to get herself propped up against the wall, slouched with the pained glare never wavering from her features as she watched Cassian approach. He held eye contact sternly, unphased by the harshness being sent his way. For a long moment, he simply stood above her, assessing Jai with a careful eye.

"Who are you?" He finally questioned, remaining firmly where he stood as Jai's gaze briefly flicked down to the medical kit in his hand.

"None of your business." She answered through clenched teeth as she tried to hold back another groan of discomfort.

"If you'd like me to help you, it is my business." He saw the woman peer at the medical bag again, obviously battling with herself over whether or not she should answer his question, "Why the hell were you on my ship?"

Jai clenched her lips tightly together as she studied the man before her - who the hell was this guy and what sort of trouble did she unintentionally get wrapped into? He had to be someone far worse than her if he had attracted the attention of every damn stormtrooper on Kafrene, which eliminated him from being any old thief or cheat. Jai assumed his ship was another obvious clue as to his affiliations, however, she knew very little about ships aside from how to break in and out of them so she could deduce nothing from it. Chances were he was a murderer or a rebel or some kind of conspirator against the Empire. Maybe even all three.

Jai gave a sudden, sharp inhale as her pain seemed to peak yet again, clenching her arms tighter around herself as she clamped her eyes shut. Cassian gauged her reaction with apathy, having decided that, until proven otherwise, he had to assume her an affiliate of the Empire to err on the side of caution. What other explanation was there for her presence aboard the U-Wing at the same moment that the stormtroopers attempted to apprehend him?

"Unless you start talking, I'll let you bleed until you pass out, and then we're dumping you on the nearest moon whether it's breathable or not." He spoke assertively, jaw tense and eyes authoritative. Jai's eyes opened a little weaker than before, agony beginning to wash away her defiant expression, "Did the Empire send you to my ship?"

Despite her discomfort, Jai gave a mocking and surprised huff, the corner of her mouth tugging into an offended grin, "The Empire? You think they'd hire some street rat to break into your ship?"

"Maybe you're just undercover." Cassian crossed his arms as he studied the way Jai's body began to react to her injury, how her breathing came out in shudders, how her skin began to pale, how her forehead glistened with sweat - she probably wasn't going to remain conscious all that much longer, "Look, you're not likely to make it either way, so you may as well admit the truth."

"What?" Genuine concern took Jai's expression at the prospect of possibly dying from this injury; she jolted from the fear, causing pain to course through her abdomen again. Cassian's brow quirked at the reaction - maybe she was just a run-of-the-mill Kafrene thief.

Jai's hand started fumbling in her coat for a moment, to which Cassian cautiously stiffened, loosening his crossed arms just enough for his free hand to linger a little closer to his blaster. She extracted what appeared to be some kind of small electronic chip, holding it in his direction a moment before dropping it into her lap, going back to pull a jewelry box from another pocket.

"I promise you, I'm just a thief," Her voice had begun to sound a little rough as she let her head drop back against the cool metal wall, "Just a thief who was looking to get some good steals; I'm not with the Empire."

Cassian stared into her worried face for a few moments longer, his brow furrowed as he watched for any nervous ticks or odd behaviors. But he spotted none, simply recognizing the desperate plea in her eyes, "… Okay."

He unfolded his arms and crossed the last few feet between them, taking a knee while opening the medical kit. A relieved inhale slipped past Jai's lips as she closed her eyes, attempting to even out her rocky breathing. After a few moments of rummaging, Cassian gave a curse under his breath - they were out of bacta spray. They must have forgotten to restock the kit after their last mission, and now he couldn't properly assist this woman.

His eyes swung back up to stare at Jai, resting his hands atop his knees as he thought - he had no choice but to bring her back to headquarters medical, because he surely couldn't turn around and try to drop her off with some doctor back on Kafrene. If he didn't bring her back with them to Yavin 4, there was no guarantee she'd get the proper help she needed, and Cassian wasn't interested in letting an innocent woman die because of him, even if she is a thief.

Jai realized Cassian had come to a pause and she opened her eyes, tiredly looking over at him expectantly, "… I don't have the supplies I need to fix this. I might have enough to hold you over until I can get you medical attention, though."

"Might?" Her voice was weaker, but her fear was no less obvious.

Cassian nodded, "I think I have painkillers and antiseptic, but that's not enough to fix this."

"You're saying I might fucking die because your med kit is inadequate?" Jai's voice was breathy, but her words still managed to carry some bite to them as her eyes darkened again.

"If we make it back to base on time, no." Cassian answered simply while reaching into the pack for what little supplies he did have to offer. He turned his head toward the cockpit slightly while calling out, "Kay, get us back as fast as you can."

"Is it really wise to bring her to headquarters?" The droid questioned as Cassian moved closer to Jai, holding the painkillers out to her.

"Where and what the hell is headquarters?" She questioned while taking the medication; her expression looked as if it were stuck in one of twisted discomfort.

Another hiss from Cassian as he dug around in the bag - no disinfectant either. This wasn't looking good. Despite that, he still dug out the bandages, though he knew they wouldn't do as much good as they could if he had antiseptic.

"Headquarters is none of your business." Cassian echoed Jai's earlier words back to her; though her energy was progressively growing weaker and weaker, Jai still managed to narrow her eyes suspiciously at the man. She prayed that she wasn't about to be dragged off somewhere awful and alarming by this stranger and his damned droid.

"Hm, that's not very reassuring…" Jai's voice came out far quieter than she had intended. Cassian watched Jai closely as her head started to loll a little, and instinctively he reached for her, knowing that, although her falling asleep could be no problem, it could more likely lead to her body caving to the injury. He rested a hand firmly on the back of Jai's head and lifted it, meeting her lidded eyes.

"You stay awake as long as you can, you hear me?" Jai gave him a tired nod, "Tell me your name."

Silence lingered between them for a few long moments as they stared at one another, "… Jai."

Cassian gave a single, slight nod, "Jai, we're going to Yavin 4."

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Jai wasn't sure if she had passed out or if she had simply become too delirious with pain, because she came to realize she was lying in a hospital bed without any recollection as to how she got there. She awoke groggy and confused, though nonetheless she felt well and without pain despite knowing she had been shot in the stomach. For a long while, she simply lied on the cot, eyeing the room around here, listening to others moving around and chattering softly. She was in a hall that was obviously converted to be some kind of medical wing, with cots lining the wall on both her left and her right. The only other people in the room were, what Jai assumed to be, a medic and a patient at the far end of the room, the patient sitting on the furthest cot while in discussion with the medic.

After spending a few minutes observing the room and recalling the events that led her here, Jai sat up slowly, groaning slightly, though for the time being she was in far less pain than she had anticipated. The supposed doctor spotted her right away, and excused herself from the patient after a moment, approaching Jai who was rotating her head left and right to work out her neck muscles, hearing a chorus of satisfied pops go up her bones. Her eyes watched the medic's approach casually as the patient rose from his seat and slowly left the room.

"It's Jai, isn't it?" The second woman started once she came to a pause at the foot of the cot, the corner of her mouth pulling into a practiced, cordial smile, receiving a nod from Jai, who was now carefully stretching her body to test out the feeling in her abdomen, "I'm Miona. You remember why you're here?"

The question was asked as if Miona already knew the answer, as if she could tell Jai had a relatively clear memory of everything that went down on Cassian's ship. Despite that knowing tone, Jai gave a second nod anyway.

"Some guy and a robot got me shot, and they brought me back here." Jai's voice was scratchy from disuse. Miona accepted the response, hearing the attitude in Jai's tone and knowing it meant the other woman could remember a lot despite saying very little, "So, where I am, and what the hell is this place?"

Miona was, however, surprised by Jai's bluntness, not expecting the woman to jump into questions so quickly. Miona could still see in Jai's dark eyes and hear in her tone that she was tired, but she had enough sense about her to get to the important matters.

"Are you sure you don't want another few minutes?" the medic asked, though she already anticipated the response she was going to get - after working as the head medic for the Rebellion, she had become accustomed to patients waking, rising, and questioning quickly without regard for their condition. The pilots and spies Miona had dealt with through the years quite often sprang back quickly from treatment and didn't like to waste time. It looked as if this woman was going to do the same.

Another shake of Jai's head, "I don't need another few minutes."

Miona gave an accepting nod, taking a seat on the cot next to Jai's, "You bounce back like someone who's been in this position before."

"Well, I've never been shot," Jai turned to face Miona, moving her legs so they could hang over the edge of the bed. She felt the first noticeable jilt of pain in her abdomen, but it was nothing compared to what she felt aboard the U-Wing, "but a couple broken bones through the years toughen you up a little. How long was I out?"

"Nearly two days," Miona began to explain, "Captain Andor got you here as fast as he could. You're lucky, if it had been much longer the injury might have gotten too severe."

Captain Andor. So, now Jai had a name for the face, though the face in her memory was already a touch fuzzy.

"Lucky me." Jai muttered as her eyes scanned the room again curiously, "And where is here?"

Miona paused and considered - she spoke with Cassian when he dropped off the injured woman, and he hadn't given her any warnings about what she should or shouldn't say to Jai. All he asked was that the woman be supervised once she awoke, and that they return her to the Ring of Kafrene as soon as possible. He also mentioned that she was a thief and that they should be watchful of that habit, but he said nothing to suggest that Miona keep their whereabouts a secret from her.

"Yavin's fourth moon." Jai shook her head with raised brows, obviously unfamiliar with the planet, "You're in the Outer Rim."

Jai mouthed the word 'oh' in understanding, eyes becoming a little lighter with both interest and concern - she'd never been this far from home. In fact, she could count the number of times she'd left the Ring of Kafrene on one hand. To say she felt nervous was an understatement. The realization that Jai was on some far off moon surrounded by strangers that she didn't know if she could trust suddenly hit her full force, and her heartbeat picked up an unevenly anxious pace.

Jai's eyes widened with her worry, and her fingers clenched into nervous fists. Miona quickly spoke up, trying to ease the anxiety, "Jai, you're with the Rebellion."

Miona hoped that was the right thing to say. Neither she nor Cassian knew anything about this woman, and for all she knew her statement could potentially worry her patient even more.

Jai's brows knit together curiously, and lucky for them both her unease calmed a little. So, this Andor guy was a rebel - that was certainly better than some of the other ideas Jai had been speculating.

The Rebellion wasn't something Jai had ever paid much mind to, not when she was a kid and not much now. Growing up on the Ring of Kafrene, one became used to the presence of the Empire monitoring the trading post and it's connecting routes, and Jai was raised to worry about herself before worrying about the concerns and needs of a whole. Sure, she knew to be there for her siblings should they ever need, and she knew to help others if she saw that they deserved it, but Jai never thought about the concerns of the entire galaxy. The rest of the galaxy just wasn't on the minds of those from Kafrene, who had learned life wasn't so black and white, had learned to coexist with both the Empire presence and with the rebels that crossed their paths.

Jai was certainly not for the Empire, though she wasn't necessarily sided with the Rebellion either. Being someone that grew up learning the ways of crime made her relatively impartial to the conflict - either way, whether under Empire control or Rebellion restoration, she would still be a criminal.

However, she could appreciate the sentiment of the Rebellion. To Jai, though it sounded as if their cause was rather idealistic, it was something good nonetheless. Sometimes she had caught herself wondering what her life could have been if the Ring of Kafrene wasn't Empire controlled, if the Alliance had knocked them down years ago and rebuilt the galaxy. Would Jai still be a criminal today, perhaps locked behind bars? Or would her life have taken a different route? Jai liked to think that she was supposed to become a slicer no matter who was running the galaxy, but she did believe life wouldn't have been so damn hard on her if the Empire weren't around.

So maybe she was a little more partial to the Rebel Alliance after all.

Jai let out a low sigh, realizing she had a string of questions she wanted to ask, but knew she couldn't bombard Miona with them all at once, "I assume someone's gonna drag me back to Kafrene as soon as you give them the go-ahead?"

Miona nodded, "Captain Andor asked that we get you back as soon as possible."

Jai's lower lip jutted out as she slightly nodded, having expected the answer she was given. Her eyes drifted away from the medic and looked about the room thoughtfully, feeling some kind of tug-of-war going on in her mind. She was far from home and amidst something she couldn't have prepared herself for and yet… she didn't want to leave too soon. Perhaps she could blame it on her curiosity, that irrepressible desire to pull apart and understand every new thing that was presented to her, just as she always did with computers and scramble keys and every other electronic she'd encountered through the years. Here she was with an opportunity to see a rebel base, she couldn't just leave and go back to Kafrene without anything new in her slicing arsenal.

Jai licked her dry lips while turning her keen eyes back to Miona, "Can I look around before I have to go?"

The hesitation was immediately obvious in Miona's expression, "I don't think that's wise…"

"Because you don't know me and can't trust me." Jai said knowingly; after all, if she were a part of a resistance movement, she'd hesitate to let a thief snoop around as well. She gave another sigh through her nose, staring at Miona as she thought for a couple moments, "… My name's Jai'ren Tillian, I was raised in Kafrene for the last eighteen years, and I don't know where I came from before that. I'm one of the only good slicers from the colony… And I like a good glass of Merenzane Gold when I can afford it."

Her attempted humor seemed to work - Jai could see the way the corners of Miona's eyes crinkled in amusement, but she refrained from smiling any larger than a small, cordial smirk.

Jai briefly felt naked with how closely Miona was staring into her eyes, and she could tell that this medic was well-versed in studying people to determine their credibility. Jai stared back, being the type that didn't like to waver her attention whenever she was being watched so closely.

"I thought you were a thief?" Miona finally said, tilting her head curiously. Jai wasn't surprised by the question, though she hadn't expected it to be the first thing brought up.

The corner of her mouth pulled into a lazy grin, "Slicers are just glorified thieves - I've never had the knack for pickpocketing or stealing from shops, but I can transfer credits from anyone's accounts or get into their ships without them ever knowing."

Perhaps that wasn't something to brag about. Jai could see the uncertainty in Miona's eyes, and realized quickly that her statement could lead to a train of thought that involved speculation of what she could do if she got her hands on rebel information.

"Don't assume the worst of me." Jai defended, "I'm not concerned with your information or data, it doesn't serve me any good."

Miona crossed her arms, though not in some kind of authoritative or reprimanding way - unless Jai was mistaken, it looked as if there was almost something chaff and curious to the look the medic was giving her, "So, why slicer? Aren't there other kinds of job opportunities on Kafrene that aren't all criminal?"

Jai smiled, cocking her head while mirroring Miona's posture - she liked this woman. And it looked as if Miona maybe was beginning to like her, as well, "Why the Rebellion? That's technically criminal, too, last time I checked."

Miona could see that there was nothing accusatory in Jai's statement, that Jai wasn't actually expecting her to answer or defend herself. This slicer was sharp.

Jai's eyes continued to shine with levity as she uncrossed her arms and curled her hands around the edge of her cot, leaning forward slightly, "If you want any more of this life story, you'll have to buy me a drink first."

The slight smile pulled at Miona's lips again. Though she most certainly couldn't say she trusted Jai, given that she knew the woman a whole of ten minutes, she could at the very least say she saw the good in her. In all her years of serving the Rebellion and, prior to that, treating medical patients on her home planet, Miona learned how to hone her ability to read people's energy. And Jai's energy in this moment was genuine and without ill-intent.

"Look, Jai, I can't let you go wandering around this place," She started while rising to her feet, "But if I call someone up here to escort you, I need you to promise you won't touch a thing and you won't cause any problems."

"You'd trust the promise of a stranger?" Jai quipped, and after Miona stared at her for another moment the medic turned to begin walking toward her desk.

"I like to give people the benefit of the doubt." Miona answered simply, retrieving a commlink from her desk while shooting Jai another kind look. She then opened a cabinet behind her, revealing Jai's belongings that had been taken off of her upon her arrival, "So?"

Jai continued in good humor, "I don't tend to make promises, but for you I'll be on my best behavior."

Miona nearly laughed as she pulled out Jai's things, "I guess that's the best I'll get."

Jai slowly rose, assessing each movement carefully to ensure she'd be good on her feet - aside from some cramping pain in her abdomen, she felt relatively unharmed. Though, she did realize in that moment that she was a little hungry, but she suspected they'd given her some kind of nourishment while she was out cold - if she had been asleep for nearly two days, Jai knew her body would have demanded food immediately if they had simply left her without nourishment that entire time.

Miona and Jai met each other halfway, the medic watching Jai's movements carefully. She knew the other woman would be fine, after all she received proper attention from the medical team, but Miona's doctoral instinct and worry could never be completely turned off. Many people, after even a day of rest following bacta treatment, were up on their feet again quickly; Jai was fortunate to be one of those types and not someone that awoke feeling groggy or drained from the medical treatment. In all her years, Miona still could never predict who would wake up feeling spry and who would wake up feelings worse.

In one hand, Miona carried Jai's folded coat and all the odds-and-ends that had been stuffed in her pockets, which she held out for Jai to grab, and in the other she had the slicer's old clunky boots, which she set atop the nearest cot. Jai noticed her cap and goggles were missing, but she reckoned they had been forgotten back on Captain Andor's U-Wing.

As Jai went through her belongings carefully to ensure nothing was missing (she let out a nearly pathetically pleased sigh when she saw neither Andor nor Miona had confiscated her scramble key), Miona started speaking to someone over the commlink.

Within minutes, the women were joined by a young Twi'lek male who looked rather confused to have been called down to the medical wing. He introduced himself and told Jai to simply call him 'Abe,' receiving an agreeing nod from the woman, who replied by telling him to simply call her 'Jai.' When Miona explained that she wanted Abe to escort Jai around the base, his expression was questioning and unprepared - he wasn't exactly a babysitter, after all. But, he nonetheless agreed, always happy to do Miona a favor and thankful for the reprieve from sitting at a computer for hours on end.

As Jai and Abe stepped out of the medical wing, he began to explain where it was in relation to everything else on the level - just next door was the briefing room, and down at the opposite end of the hall was access to the barracks and the mess hall. None of that was of any particular interest to Jai, though she didn't immediately say so out loud. No, if she was going to get a tour of a rebel base, she wanted to see their ships and flight deck, wanted to see what kind of technology they had in their command room. But she let Abe take his time showing her around - he had a nearly unsure quality to the way he spoke, as if he wasn't used to talking as much as he was doing. Or maybe it was just odd for him to be giving a stranger a tour of Yavin 4. Whatever the case, Jai refrained from pressing about the things she really wanted to see, at least for now.

"So, Abe, what brought you to the Rebellion?" Jai decided to attempt some conversation as they exited the turbolift after spending about twenty minutes or so on another level; her eyes widened eagerly at the sight of computers and tech stations spread out in front of her.

Abe looked hesitant to answer as Jai turned her excited eyes toward him, and for a short while they were both silent as he considered his answer.

"I was raised in it," he started carefully, his gaze trailing over toward Jai, "My parents were both rebels; they died for the cause a couple years ago. I've stuck around to finish their fight."

'That's noble.' Jai thought. She wondered if she would have done the same if she lost her guardian to a cause like this.

"What do you do here?" She asked and Abe finally started leading her through the crowd of computers, the other rebels giving them nothing more than mere glances as they passed. Abe looked down at her with curiosity in his eyes, wondering if she actually cared or if she was simply filling the silence; he couldn't tell.

Abe came to a pause at an empty workstation, lifting his arm toward it, "I'm a technician, I help manage our communications."

Jai gave a slight smile - briefly, she suspected that maybe Miona had called up Abe because he had a similar skill to Jai and hoped that would be something they could connect over.

"Must be demanding - you do encryption and data recovery?" Jai suspected those were areas he had to be skilled in if he was taking care of rebel communications - she was sure their channels were heavily protected and monitored at all hours of the day.

Abe nodded, "Some Imperial decryption as well when it's brought to me." Though he was still unsure of Jai, he liked the opportunity to talk to someone else about what he did. Abe wasn't usually the guy that got much attention, no one in Signal Intelligence did. Despite the appreciation all the departments and organizations in the Rebellion got, sometimes he felt as if his particular area of expertise was occasionally overlooked. Or maybe it was just everyone overlooking Abe specifically.

"I do decryption, too, among other things." Jai shared with another grin, "Bet I could give some of you a run for your money."

The corners of Abe's eyes wrinkled, though not necessarily in amusement, but rather in curiosity - did he not recognize the humor in Jai's delivery? Just as she began to wonder if she should elaborate and explain herself, Abe spoke inquisitively.

"You think so?"

Was that challenge in his tone that Jai heard? As she gave a rascally smile, Abe allowed some amusement to cross his expression.

"Miona said you were a slicer." His tone suggested that he was suspicious of the woman, which was a fair judgment. Jai was used to codebreakers having a bad reputation, though she'd done nothing with her line of work to counter said prejudice.

"And a damn good one." She replied confidently, seeing the way Abe's eyes narrowed with intrigue and perhaps even eagerness, and the expression made Jai realize just how young he was. If she had to guess, he was even younger than her twenty-three years, barely an adult and already an accomplished technician. For a brief moment, Jai recognized her own brother's curiosity in this young twi'lek's eyes.

"Do you think you're better with computers than some of us?" Abe sounded mildly challenging, to which Jai continued to grin.

"I don't want to assume, but…" Did Abe just smile back at her? He was too quick to straighten out his expression for Jai to say for sure, but his eyes still looked on with intrigue.

Abe looked away as a thought struck him, his stare washing over the room full of rebels in consideration of whatever just crossed his mind. Jai watched him patiently until he finally looked back down at her.

"Why exactly are you here?" His question wasn't what Jai expected.

"It's a little… complicated, but I was shot, and brought here for medical attention." Abe studied Jai's face while digesting the answer.

"But why did you want to see the base? Miona didn't mention you were a part of the Rebellion."

"I'm not."

"Then why so curious?" Jai would hand it to Abe, he was intelligent, though she should have expected no less of a rebel technician.

"I'm not trying to collect information, if that's what you're assuming." Jai defended, though there was no malice in her tone.

Abe shook his head, "I didn't assume that."

Without any further elaboration, he walked around the workstation and rested his palms atop the back of it's chair, eyes looking down at the computer before turning back up to Jai, something mildly akin to mischief flashing in his eyes.

"Show me what you can do." Though some of his seriousness lingered, Abe's expression once again showed that youthful curiosity, the youthful desire for friendly rivalry.

Jai's brows rose, "Really? You think you can handle being beat by some slicer from a shitty colony?"

Again, Jai saw Abe nearly smile, though this time it was more obvious, "It's not a competition, I just want to see what this slicer can do."

Jai hummed curiously, but nonetheless rounded the desk, Abe pulling out the chair before stepping back. As Jai took a seat, she dug her scramble key out of one of her pockets.

This scramble key was her baby. Jai had slaved over perfecting it, customizing the device with various parts and equipment that she'd acquired through the years. The key had started out as a rather standard scrambler, but as Jai learned more and more about the art of slicing and the equipment involved, she was able to build up her key to not only open door locks, but to bypass alarms, unlock computers, and decipher encrypted data. Jai would willingly give up everything else she owned (which wasn't all that much) so long as it meant her scramble key was always safely tucked into her pocket.

Abe gave an appraising look to the scramble key, not immediately recognizing what it was, though once Jai slid the screen to the side away from the handle portion of the tool, giving the device the vague silhouette of a gun, he realized it was slicer equipment.

"I'm not trying to get into any trouble here," Jai started, spinning the chair around to look up at Abe, "so gimme something that won't turn the entire Rebellion against me."

Abe paused and considered - he didn't want to give her any basic tasks to test her skills, he wanted to see her struggle. He settled on telling Jai to find a classified file. He only gave her one bit of information to use at a starting point - the file had his name somewhere in it. He hadn't told Jai his full name, nor did he give any important dates or other information to go off of. He wasn't just testing her slicer abilities, he wanted to see how she would rationalize which file was the one he was looking for.

Jai managed that task with impressive speed. So, Abe gave her another one.

And then another.

And one more. Each increasing in difficulty. By the last two tasks Abe could see how Jai was struggling, yet she nonetheless eventually managed to complete what was asked of her.

Abe was impressed - she was certainly on par with many of the other techs here, and undeniably better than some as well. So, the Ring of Kafrene didn't only produce underwhelming and laughable criminals after all.

Despite the fact that Abe hadn't given Jai another task, she started tapping on her scramble key again, and yet, Abe had begun to let his guard down, not evening thinking to question what she was doing now. During the challenges he had given her, Abe had pulled over a second chair, sitting back in it comfortably as he watched her work.

"So, who's that Endor guy? Or was it Anders?" Jai questioned, not looking up from her key.

"Captain Andor, the one that brought you here?" Jai smirked mischievously at the reply.

"Yeah, that one." She replied, though it was noncommittal, as if she were already disengaging from the topic of the captain, continuing to work on her scramble key.

Abe paused at her expression, suspicious of it. And as he opened his mouth to question her, Jai glanced over with a satisfied look, tapping one last time on her scramble key before something changing on the screen of Abe's computer caught his eye.

They both looked at the screen, Jai pulling her seat closer and leaning in to look at the computer studiously, meanwhile Abe's eyes widened with worry. She pulled up files about Cassian Andor. Abe looked between Jai and the screen, momentarily too flabbergasted to say anything.

Cassian. Jai mulled over the name for a moment before she continued reading the profile and records the Rebellion had on him. He'd been one of the fastest to rise through the ranks, the youngest captain in the Alliance's Intelligence branch. Jai's expression furrowed in shock upon reading that he became a child soldier at six-years-old, engaging in his first combat during the Clone Wars. As she recalled what years the Clone Wars happened, she realized he had to be younger than he looked when they met aboard his U-Wing - Jai easily mistook him for a man in his thirties, but as she did the math now, she realized he was only about twenty-five. It must have been the way he carried himself or the knowing, mature sharpness of his eyes that made the man seem older beyond his years - who knew what he'd done and what he'd seen in his youth to age him so. He had the mind of someone who had to learn things the hard way, the attitude of a man that knew what he wanted and knew what he believed in. And Jai wasn't too proud to admit his rap sheet was impressive.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Since his return to Yavin 4 nearly two days ago, Cassian had been far too preoccupied to even think about the woman he brought back with him; in fact, he had quickly forgotten about her as he got caught up in other tasks and duties. Aside from himself, another intelligence captain had returned from a mission about the same time that Cassian had, and they were both a part of a meeting with the various higher-ups to go over all the new intel that had been recently acquired. Another officer had questioned Cassian regarding his unexpected cargo, but once he gave everyone a brief explanation of what happened, the subject was dropped and forgotten.

Cassian and the other captain had gone to work trying to plan the next mission based off of new intel regarding a potential Empire database complex in the Mid Rim - they wanted to assemble a team to go check it out as soon as possible. The mission was to be headed by the second captain, Cassian already having another assignment lined up for himself that he had to prioritize. The team for the Mid Rim investigation had left on the second day of Cassian being back from his trip to the Ring of Kafrene.

Cassian hadn't thought to go to the medical wing to discuss Jai with Miona, hadn't thought to check in and see if she was still hanging around or if someone had already brought her back to the Ring. He was too caught up in his work to even spare a thought for the unplanned passenger from aboard his U-Wing.

Cassian was on his way from the hangar, where he had been checking up on repairs to his ship, to the command room in search of General Draven to go over some last minute data. He stepped out of the turbolift among the various control center technicians, inattentively excusing himself from an unimportant conversation with one of the techs as he started heading for the command room. Just as they usually did, the technicians scattered about barely spared Cassian a glance, too caught up in their own work. That was one thing Cassian always appreciated about the techs - they had laser focus that couldn't be rivaled. Where pilots and spies liked to strike up conversation and allowed their attention to be diverted far more easily when they weren't away on missions, those in Signal Intelligence and the other high-tech jobs rarely became distracted while they were at their desks.

Typically, Cassian was just as focused as the technicians once he was on this floor, as being up here in Command and Control meant business, and yet today Cassian allowed his gaze to roam the room as he walked through it. Maybe it was the noise, as everyone seemed to be louder than usual, or maybe it was some instinctive feeling, as if there was something to be seen that was out of place. Whatever the case, Cassian's gait slowed a little to allow his eyes to search the room, observing the various techs for seconds longer than he normally would.

Cassian suddenly felt as if a weight had dropped in his stomach when his eyes fell on a pair a few rows away from where he walked, the two hunched over a computer screen. He was shocked he had cared enough to even recognize the woman's face, but it was a good thing he did, because Jai had no business wandering the headquarters control room.

Cassian's eyes darkened as his brow furrowed, turning to begin marching in their direction. Jai had a mischievous smile on her face, one he wanted to wipe right off; beside her, the Twi'lek tech, whose name was escaping Cassian at this moment, looked at her with caution, saying something that appeared to be ignored by Jai. Cassian couldn't believe Miona had let down her guard and allowed Jai to leave the medical wing - he'd have to discuss this with the doctor later.

As Cassian approached, Abe finally took notice of him, inhaling sharply and jumping up from his seat quickly upon spotting the irate look on the captain's face. Jai sensed the distress in Abe's reaction, finally peeling her gaze away from the computer and up to her new company, before following his line of sight. She, too, inhaled through her nose as her eyes widened, feeling her posture stiffen, but she tried as best she could to hide her anxious surprise at seeing Cassian.

"What is she doing here?" Cassian's voice was sharp as he halted on the opposite side of the desk, clenched fist pressing down on it as he leaned forward. Despite Abe being the tallest of the three, somehow Cassian seemed like the largest person in the room, "Do you know that she is a thief and she was supposed to be brought back to her colony? What the hell is she doing on your computer?"

"Captain Andor, Doctor Tif asked me to show her around," Abe quickly defended under the intensity of Cassian's stare.

"Why?" his eyes rotated over to Jai, whose jaw was clenched tightly, doing her best to mask the concern in her black eyes.

"I couldn't leave without getting a tour." Jai quipped with defensive humor, also standing. Though Cassian still had a number of inches of height on her, Jai felt better to be facing him on her feet. Cassian dipped his head to inspect the computer, causing another wave of vexation to wash through him upon seeing his own named repeated multiple times on the display. His dark eyes met Jai's again.

"Are you trying to spy on me?" He spoke lowly, to which the corner of Jai's mouth pulled up despite the hostility between them.

"I just wanted to know more about my savior." Her tone was jeering, an obvious defense against stress and confrontation.

"Or you're a spy collecting intel." Cassian countered, sharply turning his head back to Abe, "And you're just sitting here letting her go through classified files like this? What kind of a fool are you?"

As Abe opened his mouth nervously to reply, Jai took a step in front of him, resting her fists atop the desk in a stance that mirrored the captain's, "Watch your tone."

Cassian was taken aback by her audacity to confront him that way and by her willingly to defend this rebel that she barely knew. His anger grew even hotter from her counter.

"I'd watch yours if I were you." He replied slowly.

"Captain Andor," Abe's tone was nervous, but he gulped loudly and pushed through it, "she's a slicer, I just wanted to see what she could do, I didn't mean for her to pull up any information on you. It was just in fun."

A slicer. Jai had neglected to mention that when she claimed herself to be a thief. Cassian's glare locked onto Abe with appalled shock.

"You let a slicer onto one of our computers?" His voice rose an octave, and by now a couple of the other technicians had taken notice of the confrontation going on, trying to slyly eavesdrop on it.

"Captain, she's talented." Abe seemed to grow a little braver, upset by the aggression aimed his way, "She's even better than some of us."

"That means nothing." Cassian hissed, whipping his harsh eyes back over to Jai. She met the glare head on, though Cassian could see that there was still a stressed uncertainty in her eyes; if he were someone else, he very well could have been fooled by this bluff, by this show of aggression and authority. But he wasn't someone else, and he could see right through her, could see that she had to muster up so much strength just to be glaring back into his eyes.

As Abe looked between the two, his nerves spiked high, he wasn't sure what came over him - maybe he was trying to diffuse the situation, maybe he had come to like Jai, maybe he was just desperate. Whatever the case, none of them were prepared for what he said next.

"I think she could be a good asset to us." Cassian and Jai's heads turned toward him at nearly the exact same time, Cassian prepared to argue while Jai looked with surprised curiosity, "Captain, we could use another slicer on the team, they bring a different skill set than the rest of the techs."

"Absolutely not." Cassian bit back.

"That's not up to you, though, is it?" Jai questioned harshly, eyeing the man again, drawing his attention back to her. Cassian inhaled deeply through his nose as his jaw tightened, his glare unblinking.

"You don't just join the Rebellion as some kind of cop out, we don't need people that don't care about the cause." He huffed with unamused mockery, "If this cause was important to you, you would have already said so. You don't get to use it as some means of surviving another day."

"And how do you know it's not important to me?" Jai questioned, though even she was asking herself that exact question. She didn't care about the Rebellion, did she? She had been content, albeit a little bored, back on the Ring of Kafrene, barely spared more than a thought to either the Empire or the rebels. Why now did she suddenly feel the need to argue, why now did she seem to convince herself that suddenly she cared about the matters of the galaxy at large?

Jai didn't like being challenged. Despite the fact that confrontations such as this one made her anxious, and she did her best to avoid them, a stubborn part of her couldn't help but try to stand her ground. Whether or not Cassian was right in his judgment of her didn't matter - what mattered was that he doubted her worth. And in this moment she wasn't going to simply back down and tolerate it.

"I do what I have to to survive, that's what you learn living on Kafrene. Just because I'm a slicer doesn't mean I lack morality. If anything, I value it more than the average person because of how I grew up. Don't think yourself better than me, Cassian Andor."

Cassian couldn't help but pause despite his instinct to keep arguing with her. He wouldn't say she made any valid point, nor would he admit she was right in any way, yet he nonetheless had a brief, brief moment of consideration toward her argument.

A part of Cassian knew he was being unreasonable. Perhaps it was his exhaustion or his pride or his stubbornness. The Rebellion had accepted people from all walks of life so long as they were willing to fight for the cause; Cassian had no reason to think Jai was any different from so many of the others among him.

It must have been personal, given that he had found her aboard his ship and attempting to steal; finding her here in the control room rifling through information on him didn't help her case either. Cassian was latched onto his upset from their first meeting, and that frustration combined with his current state of stress, giving way to an unnecessary level of anger in him.

Abe suggested that the discussion be brought before the council, before the Chancellor and the other heads of the Alliance. And Cassian knew Abe was right, knew that it was pointless to argue with this woman in the middle of the control center, knew that he just needed to step back and relax. He had far more important things to worry about than this woman.

As the trio came down from the high of their dispute, Cassian vowed that he wouldn't let himself trust the thieving slicer.

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Disdain [dis-deyn, dih-steyn]

verb

to look upon or treat with contempt; despise; scorn

to think unworthy of notice, response, etc.; consider beneath oneself

noun

a feeling of contempt for anything regarded as unworthy; haughty contempt; scorn

#cassian andor #cassian andor x original character #cassian andor x oc #cassian andor x reader #diego luna #rogue one #star wars #star wars fic #rogue one fic #rogue one fanfiction #pls let the tags work this time tumblr or i stg #ca #fics #fics*#saudade

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jarienn972 · 5 years ago

Text

I Remember it Well

I know that I should have been working on the last chapter of my CSSNS story, A Simple Spell, but whether it was due to the influence of Valentine’s Day last week or thoughts of my own wedding anniversary this week, this little bit of angsty fluff got stuck in my head and I just had to write it. This is a little flashback AU where Deputy Emma Swan reminiscences about the fateful Valentine's Day when responding to a serious accident became more than just a job. It’s mostly fluff but there is some mildly graphic description of a vehicle accident and it's aftermath. It’s intentionally a little choppy as I wanted it to read like little bits of memories popping into Emma’s head. (This was as a quick write and is unbeta'd so please forgive any typos. Edited to add links.)

AO3 FF.net

She should have been getting dressed but couldn’t get that afternoon out of her mind for some reason. The afternoon that had changed everything about how she’d perceived Killian Jones and her memories of the incident that brought them together were just as vivid now as they’d been three years ago.

Three years ago tonight. The anniversary of that fateful day and her brain wanted her to experience it all over again. The day she’d nearly lost the love of her life before she’d even found him.

2017

Of course she was the one stuck working on Valentine’s Day. She was the only deputy in the Storybrooke, Maine Sheriff’s department who was single and everyone knew that Emma Swan didn’t have a date. She wasn’t really resentful of the fact that she was single or the fact that she’d been scheduled to work tonight, it was more hurtful that everybody just automatically assumed she’d be spending another Valentine’s alone.

She’d had boyfriends. A few of them, at least. So she hadn’t dated anyone steady since high school… It wasn’t that big of a deal. She could have found a date for tonight if she’d wanted to, but she hadn’t bothered. David and his wife Mary Margaret were expecting so this would be their last Valentine’s Day without needing a babysitter for the next decade. Emma wouldn’t have denied them a quiet evening. And Graham - he and Ruby had been getting pretty serious since they’d started dating last fall and because Ruby was one of her best friends, Emma couldn’t say no to her. (And she’d get all of the salacious details later because Ruby wasn’t one to keep exploits to herself. The stories that girl could tell!)

So, here she was - sitting at her desk listening to her fellow deputies hash out their lovey-dovey plans for tonight while she’d be here awaiting the inevitable drunken domestic disturbance calls later when romantic plans begin to go awry. It was almost an annual event that her buddy, Leroy, would be spending the night sobering up in holding. Ah the things she had to look forward to she mused as she overheard David confirming a dinner reservation at Tony’s.

The call came in at a little after 4 that afternoon. Car versus motorcycle on Main Street. According to the eyewitness who phoned in the report, there were serious injuries involved. An ambulance had already been dispatched to the scene by the 911 operator and they needed law enforcement. Emma already knew all of this though because the accident site was only a block and a half from the Sheriff’s station. She’d heard the squealing tires and the dull thud that followed. Seconds later, she was out the door trying to see what had happened while concerned citizens rushed toward the accident scene. Emma’s radio crackled with information relayed by the emergency operator, but she was already seeing the events unfolding before her as she elbowed her way to the front of the crowd.

Half of the population of Storybrooke must have been gathered in the street, blocking her view. The first thing she could make out was the smashed rear door on the driver’s side of a dark blue sedan. The young woman who’d apparently been driving the vehicle was standing off to the side, visibly shaken as strangers attempted to calm her. It wasn’t until Emma shoved her way into the clearing that she noticed the mangled motorcycle and the unfortunate man pinned beneath it.

The bike’s front axle and wheel were bent nearly 90 degrees from where they should have been. One of the handlebars had been sheared off along with the mirror and the windshield was shattered, but that wasn’t the worst of the carnage. Most of the body of the motorcycle was resting atop its unconscious operator’s leather-clad left leg. The way the victim was laying in the street suggested that he’d made a drastic turn to the left in hopes of avoiding colliding with the car head on but there was no doubt that he’d suffered the brunt of it.

Emma had immediately known the man’s identity. She’d recognized what was left of the Harley Davidson’s custom paint job - the skull and crossbones flag emblazoned across the fuel tank. She also knew that jet black leather jacket. The one that belonged to the retired Royal Navy lieutenant turned History teacher, Killian Jones. He’d only been in Storybrooke for a couple of years, having accepted a teaching position here after leaving the Royal Navy. Her path had only crossed with the handsome Englishman’s a few times but she knew he was a loner who lived on a boat down at the harbor. By all accounts, he was an excellent teacher who spoke at least 5 languages, but he kept to himself outside of the school. Rumor had it that he had a dark past, but Emma had only seen a brooding, not very social introvert who either took to the local highways on his motorcycle or sailed out into the open sea every weekend. No one had really gotten close enough to ask why.

She tasked herself with crowd control as Storybrooke’s lone fire truck and paramedic unit arrived on scene. She shouted at gawkers to move back to the sidewalk until her voice was hoarse. Why were people so obnoxious? She made sure that the rescue crews had plenty of room to do their job as she tried to interview witnesses for her report. So far, all of the stories were the same: teenager driving the sedan had made a left turn onto Main Street from 2nd Avenue but hadn’t seen the motorcycle. She’d tried to stop but was already too far into the intersection. Jones had swerved to not strike the vehicle head on, but couldn’t escape her path in time. He’d broadsided the vehicle with his bike, rotating the front axle further than mechanical limits allowed before it toppled over onto his leg, pinning him to the asphalt.

It had been no easy feat to remove the motorcycle wreckage from atop Killian Jones’ leg, but with the assistance of a tow truck winch, the rescue crew freed him about twenty minutes later. Paramedics did their best to immobilize him until they could get a clearer look at his injuries, finding his left leg twisted unnaturally and unsurprisingly fractured just below the knee. They maneuvered him cautiously onto his back, suspecting fractured ribs that had possibly punctured his lung. They placed a stiff plastic collar around his neck to stabilize his head before even attempting to remove his helmet although his head seemed the least problematic at the moment.

The injury that most concerned them had been hidden from view until Jones had been rolled onto his back and even from her vantage point, Emma could see it. When the motorcycle had struck the pavement at nearly 20MPH, the same force that had torn off the left handlebar and side mirror had also severed Jones’ left hand at the wrist. Emma’s breath hitched in her chest for a few seconds at the macabre sight before her. Her heart was suddenly breaking for this man she barely knew as she and the rescue crew did their best to keep onlookers back.

In minutes, the paramedics had him loaded into the back of the waiting ambulance and whisked him off to Storybrooke hospital. Emma had to remain at the accident scene for another half an hour while the damaged car and totaled motorcycle were carted away. She took photographs of the scene before anything was removed, then helped sweep up the broken safety glass and metal shards littering the street. Nearly an hour after the accident had occurred, she had to write out the traffic ticket and hand it to the traumatized teenaged driver before releasing the girl to her parents and opening the street to traffic again. Good thing this was a small town so she didn’t have to contend with a gridlock of other vehicles. Now the folks of Storybrooke could get back to their regularly scheduled Valentine’s Day plans while she returned to the station to write up her report.

**********

Long after her reports were filed and the station was locked up for the night, Emma found herself nearly dozing off in the hospital’s waiting room. Officially, she was here to get a statement from Killian Jones when he was coherent enough to answer her questions. But that wasn’t the only reason she was sitting here at nearly 11PM on Valentine’s night. She just felt compelled to be here. Was it pity that he had no family to check in on him or was she feeling something else? She hardly knew him. She should be heading home after a long day at work - a day made even longer by the accident investigation and clean up... and all of those witness statements… What was she doing here?

She’d nearly drifted off to sleep when a nurse approached to let her know that Jones was alert. He was still in serious condition with three fractured ribs, a punctured left lung and ruptured spleen. What resonated with her most was the fact that the surgeon couldn’t reattach his severed hand. Emma would be allowed a few minutes to get a statement, but she was warned that he’d probably be a little drowsy and might not be able to recall much of his ordeal. She didn’t really care though. In truth, she had all of the information she needed. She knew he wasn’t at fault for the accident. Maybe she just needed to tell him that in person...

Maybe she just needed to see for herself that he was going to be alright.

Emma wasn’t sure if he was sleeping or just lying there with his eyes closed when she entered the room so she pushed the door closed as quietly as she could. She took a seat in a chair at the foot of the bed and just watched him for a few minutes. Even battered and bruised, he was still roguishly handsome and she had to chastise herself for staring (although if teachers had looked like this when she was in school, maybe she’d have actually paid attention).

Killian took a deep breath, grimacing at the accompanying discomfort. He recalled someone in blue scrubs telling him about broken ribs and something about a punctured lung, but the morphine-induced haze in his brain wasn’t processing everything yet. There were flashes of a car and perhaps a collision? That was why everything hurt, right? He could hear a faint beeping sound off to his left and something was making his hand itchy. His eyes flickered open to take in his surroundings and he immediately remembered he was in a hospital room - and he wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t sure whether he should be embarrassed by his bedraggled appearance or grateful for the company as he noticed the woman across the room. An awkward grin crossed his lips as he tried to feign an air of self-confidence. He couldn’t quite make out her face, but she wasn’t dressed like any of the medical staff. All he really could see was a halo of blonde locks that had him questioning if she was an angel here to usher him into the afterlife, although were that the case, he shouldn’t be in so much pain…

“I’m sorry,” Emma apologized. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No apologies necessary, lass,” Killian replied as best he could, his voice deep and raspy as it escaped his parched throat. “Although I appear to be at a loss as to why you’re here… I can’t say that I’m my most dashingly handsome at the moment…”

Was he really this much of an egomaniac or was he genuinely trying to flirt with her right now?

“I’m Deputy Emma Swan of the Storybrooke Sheriff’s department. You were involved in an accident this afternoon and I just wanted to follow up on your condition and get a statement from you, if you’re feeling up to it?”

“Does everyone get such personalized attention from the Sheriff’s deputies here?”

“Not everyone,” she responded sheepishly, scrambling to think of something that wouldn’t sound as though she held some weird obsession. “I uh…, I knew you didn’t have any family here so… so I thought you might appreciate the company…”

“If you’re not put off by my ragged appearance and obvious shortcomings, then yes, I appreciate the company.”

“You honestly look pretty good for someone who just crashed his motorcycle into the side of a car.”

“Ah...so it wasn’t just a dream…,” he sighed.

“Afraid not.”

“My bike?”

“Totaled,” she replied, immediately regretting her bluntness. “Sorry, I should have been more tactful with that.”

“There’s no need to be gentle. It’s hardly my first tragedy…”

“How much do you remember about the incident?”

“I was riding down Main Street, heading home after work and a car pulled out in front of me. I tried to maneuver around the vehicle, but there wasn’t time…”

“The driver didn’t see you,” Emma explained.

“No, they certainly did not…” he responded, now alert enough to realize that his left arm was immobilized and he vaguely recalled the doctor’s words. Hand severely mangled and severed at the wrist by blunt force. Yeah - blunt force of striking asphalt at 20MPH…

“Are you alright?” Emma wondered as she sensed him growing quiet. “I should probably go…You suffered some pretty nasty injuries and I’m sure you need some rest…I’m really sorry they couldn’t save your hand though…” She regretted those words the moment they crossed her lips. “Let me get out of here before I shove my foot in my mouth again…”

“No, please, Emma - I’d like you to stay…” he assured her. “If you’re not horrified by the sight of me…”

“Should I be? You don’t think I’ve seen bruised and bloodied accident victims before? Like I said earlier, you look pretty good for someone who just slammed into a car…”

“Why, Deputy - a gentleman might take that as you flirting with me...” Emma flushed with embarrassment as his statement caught her off guard. She glanced over to the bed to catch the lopsided smirk stretching across his face. Was this guy for real? “It may be that I’m a smidge under the influence of these painkillers, but dare I say that you do look quite beautiful this evening...”

“Now, who’s doing the flirting, Mister?” she chuckled, the reddening of her cheeks even more evident now. “Maybe it’s just some lovey-dovey Valentine’s influence...wait...is it still Valentine’s Day?” Emma questioned herself as she glanced up at the clock mounted on the wall. 11:48PM. “I guess it is still Valentine’s Day - for a few more minutes at least…”

“Deputy Swan - exactly how long have you been sitting over there?” Killian wondered, not understanding why such a gorgeous woman would be spending Valentine’s Day waiting for a wounded and now deformed man to awaken.

“Well...here? Maybe half an hour or so. They wouldn’t let me in to see you until you woke up since I’m technically here to get your statement…”

“You didn’t spoil your plans for this evening on my behalf, did you?”

“Uh, no,” she replied shyly, probably more embarrassed to reveal she hadn’t had a date than she’d been during their mutual flirtation moments ago. “I was on duty tonight because I was the only one in the department without a date.”

“Ah, I see…,” he mused. “Well, Love, if you’re not horrified by the current state of my being, perhaps we could enjoy the remainder of this fabricated holiday together?”

“You’re asking me to be your Valentine’s date while you’re lying there all banged up and half stoned on morphine?”

“If you’ll have me…” he smiled as Emma stood, taking a few tentative steps closer to the bed while Killian extended his uninjured hand towards her. Their paths had crossed a couple of times since he’d arrived in Storybrooke, but he’d never really taken time to appreciate her beauty - her hair the color of spun gold and eyes that sparkled like twin emeralds.

She didn’t know how to respond to his offer at first, eyes dipping to the floor as she contemplated the awkwardness of the situation. Would she be taking advantage of a wounded man if she said yes or would she look like a judgemental bitch if she said no? She hadn’t even yet considered how unprofessional this could appear but to hell with it all, she told herself at last as she wrapped her fingers around his. “Alright - for the next ten minutes, I’ll be your Valentine.”

“Good,” he grinned, a hopeful twinkle brightening his blue eyes. “And I promise you, the next one will be far better.”

“You’re pretty sure of yourself there, buddy,” she teased him as a little giggle escaped her throat. “You don’t even know me.”

“Well then, I’d very much like to get to know you, Ms. Swan. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t even know where to start…”

“How about like this: Greetings, I’m Killian Jones and it is a pleasure to meet you…”

Present Day

“Are you nearly ready, Love?” Emma heard Killian shouting from downstairs. “Our reservation is in twenty minutes and you can be assured that Tony won’t hold the table…”

She shook her head as she rooted around inside her jewelry box in search of her other earring. She couldn’t go without it, not tonight. The emerald solitaires were his favorite as he always insisted that they matched her eyes. It was pure BS but she still appreciated the flattery. All wouldn’t be lost if she couldn’t locate the earring though. She knew he’d be too preoccupied staring at her curves in the little black cocktail dress she’d bought for tonight and he wouldn’t see it until she removed her coat at the restaurant. She’d never get him out of the house if he saw it too soon.

“”I’m just looking for my earring. I’ll be right down,” she shouted back from their second floor bedroom. “Besides, I’m the Sheriff. Tony wouldn’t dare give up my table tonight.”

“Are you willing to take that chance?” she heard him ask as her fingertips finally located the second earring. She quickly donned it and checked her makeup in the vanity mirror one last time. Everything still looked perfect so she grabbed her black wool dress coat from atop the bed and tugged it on, buttoning it while descending the stairs.

At the bottom of the staircase, Killian was impatiently awaiting her, attired head to toe in black, save for the crimson hue of the vest she noticed peeking out from beneath his leather coat. Even three years later, he could still manage to hitch her breath in her throat and give her butterflies in all the right places.

“I took a chance on you, didn’t I?” she answered his rhetorical question as she slipped her arms around his waist and pulled him close. “I still remember that night… Can you believe that its been three years already?” The same lopsided smirk that she remembered so well crossed his face just before his lips caught hers, responding with a passionate kiss that she didn’t want to end. “Now we’re really going to be late…” she laughed as they embraced each other breathlessly.

“To hell with dinner then,” he responded, arms encircling her even tighter as he sported a salacious grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Swan.”

She pressed her lips back into his, not caring that her deep wine tinted lipstick was smearing everywhere. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Killian,” she murmured into his kiss.

#cs ff #cs au ff #captain swan ff #cs fanfiction #i remember it well

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violetsmoak · 5 years ago

Text

Pieces of April [2/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21099044/chapters/50202530

Summary: On the anniversary of his death, Jason’s second life takes an abrupt new turn and he’s faced with a challenge that neither Batman nor the All-Caste prepared him for.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Warning(s): Past Jason/Isabel, kidfic, minor canon character death (pretty sure you can guess who, not either of our boys!), I’ll add more warnings/tags as I think of them.

Canon-Compliance: Takes place in between the two RHATO series, so after Roy and Kori and before Artemis and Bizarro.

First Chapter

________________________________________________________________

Somehow, Drake maneuvers through the city without getting a single red light and without going over the speed limit. It wouldn’t surprise Jason if he’s jerry-rigged some sort of portable device to alter traffic routes, but he doesn’t bother to find out.

Instead, he finds himself hoping he’s gotten all this wrong—that it’s another attack, someone using Isabel to get to him, like what the Joker did—

And then he hates himself for thinking that, because the Joker is always the worst-case scenario, and as thrown as Jason is by his growing paranoia, nothing warrants dealing with that lunatic.

So, he stews in silence, choking down two disgusting energy drinks as fast as he can to try to shake free of his alcoholic buzz. To his credit, Drake doesn’t ask him any questions the whole time, though, from the way his eyes keep cutting to him, he wants to. It’s more restraint than Jason would get from the other Bats, he thinks.

They arrive at the hospital, pulling up right in front of the emergency entrance beside the ambulance bay.

“Do you need backup?” Drake asks as Jason he swings himself out of the car, somewhat steadier on his feet.

“No. This ain’t somethin’ I need a partner on,” he replies. “Thanks for the ride and all, but I buzz off.”

“Got it,” Drake says, shifting gears. “Circle the block a few times, just in case.”

He pulls away before Jason can argue with him, the sudden movement causing the car door to slam before Jason can close it.

He scowls after him.

Smart-ass.

Though, now that Jason’s actually at the hospital, the idea of having Red Robin as back-up is a little more palatable.

He shifts, appreciating the comforting weight of his guns in their shoulder holsters—insurance for the possibility that this is all a trap—and then strides through the emergency doors, looking for the reception area or equivalent since he doesn’t have the tolerance to search any directories any time soon. By some miracle, there’s no line of people requiring triage just then, and Jason presents himself to the harried-looking young man at the counter.

“I’m looking for a patient,” he says without preamble. “Isabel Ardila. I got a call from a Dr. Kerry?”

“Kerry…” the man repeats wearily, types something into the computer and says, “That’s Obstetrics. Take the elevator down the hall, maternity ward is on the third floor.”

Maternity ward.

The words echo over and over in his head, each repetition making the pit in his stomach grow.

Don’t know for sure. Could just be a coincidence.

He swallows.

He knows as well as anyone trained Batman that there is no such thing as coincidence.

Numbness and queasiness that has nothing to do with alcohol bleed into him.

The journey to the elevator and upstairs pass in a blur of half-formed thoughts and impressions. His heart seems to be beating a lot louder than it usually does. No sign of trouble that he can see, none of the warning signals that there’s something untoward afoot here.

None of his senses warning him of imminent danger.

Perhaps that’s what makes him the most uneasy.

Before he knows it, he’s standing in front of another reception area, asking another nurse, or receptionist or whatever she is, for Dr. Kerry.

“I’m looking for Isabel Ardila,” he repeats, barely hearing himself above the rushing in his ears. “Where’s her room? I’m her…uh…husband.”

Another flick of a hand across a tablet and the woman’s face goes carefully and deliberately blank.

Shit. Even someone without training can tell that means bad news.

“Someone will be with you in a moment, sir,” she says, going for sympathetic.

He barely has time to go through the half-dozen possible scenarios in his head before a lanky man with thick-rim glasses in a white coat over scrubs approaches.

“I’m Dr. Kerry,” the man says when he gets there, as if Jason couldn’t guess. “I was told you are Ms. Ardila’s husband?”

“Ex,” Jason lies automatically, and it comes out as a croak. “It’s…been almost a year.”

“Ah.” His expression flickers with understanding but remains grim. “I wasn’t sure. Considering you weren’t present when she was admitted, and she didn’t mention you beyond putting your name down as her emergency contact.”

“I’m…just as confused as you are.”

Probably more.

Kerry’s expression is sympathetic but guarded. “I’m sorry. I take it your situation was…not traditional.”

“No. She was…we were…,” Jason says, and then shakes his head in frustration. “Listen, do we need to rehash my personal life, or are you gonna take me to see her?”

Kerry stiffens, and then sighs.

“I’m afraid that will have to wait a moment, Mr. Ardila. In fact, I think you may wish to sit down.”

He gestures to the wall of uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs.

“No,” Jason replies. “I’ve gotten enough bad news in my life to know what that means, so just spit it out.”

“Very well. Then I’m sorry to have to tell you, but she died about an hour ago.”

Jason hears the words, reads the shape of the other man’s mouth as he says them, and yet they don’t penetrate.

He’s no stranger to death or loss, but this somehow…

She got out. We went separate ways, she found someone else, she had a life. She can’t be…goddamn it, she was normal!

“…placental abruption…started hemorrhaging…no way to get the bleeding under control…one in a hundred cases…”

He barely hears any of it.

Jason could understand if it was one of the many associates he’s had over the years—his line of work, death is always a risk. People who work with him know that—Kori and Roy and any or every Bat and…and everyone he has ever worked with. Death is just part of the gig. Going out in a blaze of glory is expected.

Sometimes literal.

Which is perhaps why it’s such a shock to hear it’s happened to someone like Isabel. Someone normal, someone not in the life, except for when he selfishly pulled her into it.

“…can understand the shock this must be. I’m so very sorry.”

“That’s…it wasn’t your fault,” Jason says, only vaguely aware that he’s doing it.

“The baby, on the other hand, is perfectly healthy.”

His gut clenches like he’s been punched.

“Baby.”

Before, it was just a suspicion. A worry. But that word—baby—it’s solid, it’s real.

“Yes. She’s doing well, despite the circumstances.”

She. There’s a baby. It’s a ‘she’.

Jason’s thoughts are refusing to connect properly for some reason, and it bothers him. He’s taken on entire squadrons of men when he was concussed and barely able to see straight. Fought back the side-effects of the Lazarus Pit, held his own against various members of the All-Caste when under the influence of their psychotropic, hallucination inducing herbal concoctions.

In all those cases he could think through his situation.

But he can’t now.

“I’m…not sure I should be offering congratulations, though,” the doctor admits. “From the expression on your face, you weren’t aware she was pregnant.”

“…I wasn’t.”

“The contact information we had for you…it was in the forms she signed upon admittance. She named you as the father.”

Jason stares blankly again.

He’s been expecting those words since listening to the message, and yet they still don’t seem entirely real to him.

“Mr. Ardila?”

“I…” Jason swallows, forces his brain to get back in gear. “Look. Isabel and me, we haven’t been together for a while.” Nine months, a while, and for a reason. “So…it could be mine…but it probably isn’t. She was with another guy. I don’t even know his name.”

“I see.” Kerry’s brow wrinkles. “That complicates matters. Ms. Ardila didn’t provide any other contact information for anyone else.”

Jason thinks back to every conversation he and Isabel had, trying to think if there was anything that can help here. He knows her parents are dead, that she never had any siblings; she has family in Columbia, but they’re cousins she’s never even met.

“…Other than you, at the moment, this child has no family. And if you don’t intend to take guardianship of her, a social worker will need to be contacted to handle the case.”

Jason tenses.

“Social worker,” he repeats. “You mean foster care.”

He has sudden flashbacks to angry yelling and a belt across his back, always being hungry and cold and unable to sleep for wondering if tonight would be the night the latest piece of trash foster father decided to slip into his room and pay him a visit.

Kerry must detect the distaste in his words, though not the exact reason behind it, because he says cautiously, “I assure you, it’s a valid option, and in her best interest. Babies—infants especially—have a high probability of being placed. If that’s the option you think best, she likely wouldn’t spend much time there.”

Jason doesn’t know what to say to that, thoughts still whirling. He remembers being taken away from Wayne manor, spending weeks in a spartan bedroom in Gotham’s Child Welfare Bureau—

It’s not the same. This isn’t the same situation; this is totally different.

So why is he freezing up and unable to make a decision right now?

The doctor is watching him, expectant, and yet Jason’s tongue feels rooted to the roof of his mouth.

“Surely before that becomes an issue, a paternity test might be an idea.”

Jason closes his eyes at the speaker’s words.

He doesn’t even need to turn around. Of course Drake didn’t listen to him; of course, he’s standing right behind Jason.

Probably has been for a while.

Dr. Kerry appears startled.

“M-Mr. Wayne?”

“Drake,” the younger man corrects, striding forward until he is standing beside Jason. He doesn’t look at him, attention fully on the doctor. His expression is mild, but jaw set and eyes calculating. “I’ve been emancipated for a while.”

The doctor visibly recovers himself. “Be that as it may, this isn’t exactly your—”

“Business?” Drake interjects smoothly. “I’m afraid it is since I’m his partner.”

“Partner?”

The slight bulging of the man’s eyes might make Jason laugh if Drake’s words didn’t penetrate his mental fog. He knows the other man means 'partner' in a totally different sense from what the doctor obviously infers from it. Any other day it would be a joke—hell, he might even play along with it, depending on his mood, drag out the joke to see how annoyed the kid could get—

“Great pains have been taken to keep that quiet,” Drake goes on, warning in his voice.

As in, ‘don’t go outing Tim Drake-Wayne to the press if you ever want to see funding to this place ever again’.

There’d that absurd temptation to laugh, again.

“Of c-course, Mr. Drake. Naturally, patient privacy is paramount. But you understand that legally, right now the only one with a say in the matter is Mr. Ardila, and—"

“And whatever his decision, we need all the facts,” Drake continues in a bizarrely reasonable voice. “He’ll submit to a paternity test, and I’ll expect it to be done as soon as possible.”

“Yes, of course, it can be rushed if that’s what you—”

“No.”

The doctor and Drake glance at him.

“No,” Jason repeats dimly. “No rushing it. I can wait like a normal person.”

“A standard paternity test takes two to three days,” Kerry says, nervous. “If you want to know as soon as possible—”

“Other people need their tests done more than I do—things that can save people’s lives,” Jason replies. With effort, he turns to face Drake. “And besides, I don’t need any of this on the record so your nosy-ass family finds out about before…before I know what the hell is going on.”

He doesn’t really need to raise an eyebrow to communicate what he really means; Drake knows better than any of the others.

The younger man turns thoughtful for a beat, and after several seconds, nods.

“You’re right,” he allows. Then he turns to Dr. Kerry, who has been watching the interchange with the discomfort of someone watching a marital squabble. “We’ll wait for the results then. In the meantime, we should see the baby.”

Kerry blinks. “What?”

“What?” Jason echoes.

And Drake, polished as ever, offers the doctor a weary yet charming smile that has to have been perfected over years of training. “She just lost her mother, and as uncertain as the situation is, until we know different, Jason is her father.” Jason almost swallows his tongue at those words. “I read somewhere that it’s important for babies to be held, especially so soon after birth.”

Kerry appears a little shell-shocked. “I’ll…I’ll have one of the nurses escort you, then.”

“Thank you. We’ll wait here. I think we’re going to need a moment if you don’t mind.”

“No, of course. I understand. It won’t take long.”

They watch him hurry away.

Jason immediately rounds on Drake.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, panicked. “Why the hell did you even come in here, I told you to go!”

“Since when do I listen to you?” Drake counters, fiddling with something beneath the sleeve of his expensive-looking jacket. “You spent the whole drive looking like you were headed to your own execution. You forget I’ve been around after you’ve died, and it’s not pretty.”

“Something else is about to not be pretty, and it’s your face,” Jason grouses.

“Threaten me or not, I’m trying to help you figure this out without having to wait two days.”

“I said—”

“I know what you said. And I have DNA sequencing tech built into my wrist computer,” Drake tells him, tapping the spot beneath his jacket. “Totally secure system, direct feed to my computer at the Nest, no other Bats involved, and we can know in an hour. I just need to get close enough to the baby for a cheek swab or hair sample.” He cocks his head to one side, challenging. “So are you coming?”

________________________________________________________________

Your feedback matters! I want to know what you think of my story, so feel free to leave kudos, a comment or as many of these emojis as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels

Next Chapter

#violetsmoak #violet writes #jaytim #jaytim fanfiction #babyfic #accidental baby acquisition #enemies to lovers #jason todd #tim drake

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starship-squidlet · 5 years ago

Text

companionship

A/N: inspired by this post by @sosoubrette!

Summary: Leorio and Kurapika adopt a cat.

Word Count: 2,194

Disclaimer: I do not own Hunter X Hunter, Kurapika, or Leorio. I do, however, own this story! Cross-posting to ChocolatteKitty-Kat on FF.net and Ao3 and maliciousbubbl3s on Tumblr.

"I'm home!" Leorio called, shutting the door and kicking off his shoes.

"Back here!" Kurapika's voice came from the back of the apartment.

When Leorio walked through the door to the bedroom, it took him a moment to realize that Kurapika wasn't there—he was in the bathroom, ok his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor of the shower. "What, uh… what're you doing down there?"

"Cleaning," Kurapika grunted, scrubbing harder at a mark on the floor.

"I'm pretty sure that's part of the floor, there, babe," Leorio said gently, setting his briefcase aside.

Kurapika sat up and swiped his wrist across his brow. "You know I hate it when you call me that."

"I know, sorry," Leorio sighed. He sat down behind Kurapika and wrapped his arms around the blond, pulling him into his lap.

Kurapika tried to pull away, but Leorio held him tight. "Let me go. I want to finish what I was doing."

"The shower is already spotless," Leorio said soothingly. "You already finished."

"But…" Kurapika mumbled. The scrub brush slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor.

Leorio sighed and pulled him even closer. "It's okay," he murmured. "Come on." He scooped Kurapika up in his arms and maneuvered the two of them carefully through the doorway and into the bedroom. He sat Kurapika down on the edge of the bed and knelt in front of him, taking Kurapika's hands in his own. "What's wrong?" he asked gently.

Kurapika sighed. "Nothing."

"Come on, talk to me," Leorio urged. "Did something happen?"

"No…" Kurapika sighed.

"Then what's wrong?" Leorio pressed. "Come on, I need you to talk to me!"

"It's nothing!" Kurapika insisted, pulling his hands away. "It's just… when you're gone, sometimes it gets so quiet around here. I have to do something to break it. Cleaning is usually the best option."

Leorio sat back on his heels, stunned. "Why didn't you tell me that's how you were feeling?"

Kurapika shrugged. "It's not like there's anything to be done about it. You have class and work. And even if you didn't, it wouldn't be fair or practical to ask you to spend all your time with me."

"Yeah, but I could try and rearrange my schedule a little bit so I'm not gone for so long at a time," Leorio protested.

"No," Kurapika said shortly. "I don't want you to have to change your life for me."

Leorio smiled kindly and reached up to cup Kurapika's cheek. "You're my whole world. I wouldn't mind changing anything for you."

Kurapika smiled and nodded, but pulled away. "I need to go pick up the things in the bathroom."

Leorio let him go with a sigh. "Hey, what do you want for dinner?" he called out as he started to change out of his scrubs.

"Nothing in particular," came the reply.

"How does spaghetti sound?"

"Fine by me," Kurapika appeared at Leorio's elbow, smiling brightly. Leorio could still see a shadow in the rich blue of his eyes, but let it slide.

Kurapika helped him make dinner, which was generally an… experience, but spaghetti was a hard dish to mess up. Leorio set him to stirring the pot of pasta while he cut some veggies to steam in the microwave. He glanced over his shoulder and frowned slightly. Kurapika was stirring the pot listlessly, staring off into the distance. Leorio sighed and turned back to his vegetables.

.*.*.*.*.*.

"How do you feel about dogs?"

Kurapika glanced up at the question. It had been two days since Leorio had come in to find him frantically cleaning the bathroom, and they hadn't said anything about it since. However, Leorio hadn't been able to get the image of Kurapika scrubbing the already-clean tiles or the conversation that followed out of his head, and had been trying to come up with a solution.

Kurapika tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, his blond hair slipping away from his face. "I don't mind them," he said finally. "They're not the worst, but there are definitely better animals. The only dogs around when I was a kid were the few stray Nightwolves that would wander down from the mountains, and you didn't want to get too close to those. I guess I've never really been around dogs, though, so I've never really thought about it."

Leorio nodded thoughtfully and turned back to his laptop.

"Why do you ask?" Kurapika leaned around to look at the computer screen. "The local animal shelter?"

"Well…" Leorio sighed, shutting the laptop and setting it aside. "I've been thinking about our conversation from the other night, and I guess I just thought that maybe there's a solution to how lonely you get when I'm gone all day."

"... A dog?"

"It was just a thought," Leorio said defensively.

"It wasn't a bad one," Kurapika said quickly. "And I really appreciate it. It's just that a dog seems like a lot of work, because it can't really stay cooped up in the apartment all day on days when I'm not here."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Leorio sighed.

Kurapika laughed. "I have a feeling that you were already kind of set on getting one."

"Maybe a little," Leorio admitted sheepishly. He opened the laptop and clicked out of the browser window, returning to his homework.

"Why don't we go by anyways?' Kurapika suggested after a while. "We could see if we could like… sponsor a dog until it gets adopted or donate to them or something. I know it's not quite a solution to the problem you wanted to solve, but I'm sure they could use the support."

Leorio visibly brightened. "We could go tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow?" Kurapika repeated.

"I have a half day at school, and you're home, right? I could come pick you up after class and we can go together!"

Kurapika smiled at how easily excited Leorio was. "Okay. Tomorrow it is."

.*.*.*.*.*.

When Leorio pulled up outside of the apartment building, Kurapika was already outside, standing under the awning above the front door. He wore a heavy jacket and dark jeans, and even from a distance Leorio could see his breath coming in puffs of cloud. As Leorio came to a stop, Kurapika darted across the sidewalk, golden hair bright against the deepening gloom of the rainy winter afternoon.

"Where's your umbrella?" Leorio admonished once Kurapika was in the car and shaking water out of his blond locks.

"I think it's in here, actually," Kurapika craned to look in the backseat, then reached back and produced a bundled-up black umbrella. "Ta-da."

"Put your seatbelt on," Leorio laughed, already pulling away from the curb.

The animal shelter wasn't far from their building, but the end-of-day traffic made the drive take twice as long as it should have. By the time they finally got to the shelter and parked the car, the rain had trickled off to a mist. Nevertheless, Kurapika and Leorio ran to the door of the building, Leorio holding an arm over his head as if it would somehow keep his hair dry. The air inside the shelter was blissfully warm, and Kurapika peeled off his heavy jacket and hung it on a convenient coat rack near the door.

"Hello there!" the clerk behind the counter had neon green hair and looked altogether too young to be there. "Welcome to the North Yorknew Animal Sanctuary. What can I help you with today?"

Kurapika hung back and let Leorio explain their situation to the clerk. While he waited, he looked around, his eye finally caught by movement behind a large plate glass window to his left. He wandered over.

The window overlooked a room full of cats. There were several cat trees, most of which had cats on every vaguely flat surface. Any bed or cushion on the floor had at least one feline occupant. Kurapika thought he even saw a large tomcat curled up in what was almost definitely a litter box in the back of the room.

"Our cat population has grown quite a bit lately," he turned at the chuckle next to his elbow. A little old woman, stooped over her cane, stood next to him, a smile splitting her wide, wrinkled face. "As happy as I am to see them all in here, we're rather overcrowded. We won't be able to take in many more before we run out of space."

Kurapika frowned, looking over the room full of cats. "Where are they all coming from?"

"In the cold weather, people are more likely to bring in animals that they can trap off the streets," the woman turned and headed deeper into the building. Kurapika glanced back at Leorio, still chatting amicably with the desk clerk, before following her. After the big window, the wall was lined with smaller windows, looking into small cages, many of which were occupied by at least one cat. The woman took him through a door that led into a small room, one of the walls lined with large cages. These were occupied by groups of very small kittens.

"These are litters that have been brought in by some of our cat foster parents lately. The foster parents take in a pregnant mother cat and give her somewhere safe and warm until she gives birth, and then until the kittens are old enough to be separated. Then, the mother is spayed and put up for adoption, as are the kittens." The woman stopped to coo at a trio of white and black kittens who hurried over to the cage door to mewl at her.

At the sound of a weak little yowl, Kurapika turned to look into a smaller cage that he hadn't noticed before. He leaned down to peer into it and was met by a pair of wide, golden eyes gleaming in the shadows of the cage.

"Hi there," Kurapika whispered, smiling kindly even though he knew the expression meant nothing to the animal.

"Oh, this one is a sad one," the old woman sighed, joining Kurapika in front of the cage. "Half of his litter died within days of being born, along with the mother. There were two other kittens that survived, but they were snapped up within days of getting here—kittens usually are."

"Then why is he still here?" Kurapika asked. He stuck a finger through the cage and wiggled it at the kitten, trying to coax it forward.

"He's not very friendly, as you can see," the woman laughed. "What you can't see is that he's all black. It may be silly, but people still believe that black cats are bad luck."

Finally, at Kurapika's coaxing, the kitten crept towards the front of the cage.

"Why don't you have a seat?" the woman smiled. Kurapika obligingly sat on the floor, and the woman opened the door to the cage, pulled out the kitten, and handed him to Kurapika. Sure enough, his fur was completely black, as were his nose and the pads on his feet. The only spots of color were his golden eyes, and the white teeth and pink tongue visible when he squeaked in protest at being picked up. "Here you go," the woman smiled, handing the kitten down to Kurapika.

Kurapika took the cat and held it out at arm's length at first. When the cat started to wriggle and kick, however, he brought it close and cradled it in his arms. When it reached up to lick his face, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Hey there," Leorio's voice came from the doorway. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to."

Kurapika glanced up, beaming. "Hey, Leorio… how do you feel about cats?"

.*.*.*.*.*.

"That should be fine," Leorio stepped back and eyed up his work. He had moved the chair out of his and Kurapika's bedroom and into the living room, in order to set up a litter box for their new roommate in the corner.

"I'm sure it will be," Kurapika laughed. He was sat cross-legged on the bed, playing with the cat with a feathered toy.

Leorio flopped onto the bed, careful to avoid the kitten pouncing around Kurapika's legs. "I thought you didn't want a pet."

"I didn't want a dog," Kurapika corrected. "They're too needy, and require too much attention, which isn't a practical thing for either you or I at this point. But cats are a lot more independent. I think he'll be okay with us. And also…"

"Yeah?" Leorio prompted when Kurapika paused.

"I'm not really sure. But when I was holding him, back there in the shelter, it was like he… told me that we all belonged together. I don't know; it probably sounds stupid, but…"

Leorio smiled and reached out to pet the cat, yelling when it wrapped its paws around his hand and dug in with teeth and claws. Kurapika laughed, and Leorio wrestled himself free of the cat. It’s not really a solution, but maybe it’ll help, he thought to himself. "Well, the way I see it, there's one more thing we have to do here,” he said out loud.

"What's that?" Kurapika asked, still distracted by the black kitten.

"What are you going to name him?"

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bikethevote · 5 years ago

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Bike The Vote L.A. Endorsement - Sarah Kate Levy for City Council District 4

2020 Los Angeles CD4 Endorsement: Sarah Kate Levy

Primary Election day: Tuesday, March 3, 2020 7am-8pm Find your Council District: http://neighborhoodinfo.lacity.org/ Find your polling place: http://lavote.net/locator

Los Angeles’ oddly gerrymandered Council District 4 stretches from Sherman Oaks and Toluca Lake through the Hollywood Hills and down a sliver of Hollywood into Miracle Mile, Hancock Park, and Koreatown; and through Griffith Park into Los Feliz and Silver Lake. Home to some of the most hotly contested active transportation corridors in the city, it’s been represented since 2015 by Councilmember David Ryu, who replaced termed-out Councilmember Tom LaBonge.

Bike The Vote L.A. sent questionnaires to announced CD4 candidates, asking them to outline their vision for a safer, more equitable, and more sustainable transportation system. Challenger Sarah Kate Levy’s response was so outstanding that Bike The Vote L.A.’s CD4 Election Committee has taken the rare step of making an early endorsement in next year’s primary election, set for March 3rd, 2020.

Levy has a long track record as a political activist working with Democrats for Neighborhood Action, Planned Parenthood Advocacy, and serving as the current president of the L.A. Metro National Women’s Caucus. Levy has placed housing, transportation, sustainability, and quality of life at the center of her campaign platform, and clearly done the homework necessary to be an informed leader on each of these important topics.

Levy’s impressive response to Bike The Vote L.A. outlines her determination to achieve Vision Zero by reducing deadly speeding, reorienting streets towards the safety of all road users, and creating a network of protected bike lanes. Levy makes it clear that her vision of L.A.’s transportation system is one where everyone has access to quality transit, one that isn’t designed around travel by cars, and one where children are able to walk and bike safely to school without the threat of death or serious injury.

Council District 4 has seen a marked shift in public support for safe streets over the past few years, with widespread support for the successful Rowena bike lanes in Silver Lake, championing of local roadway safety projects by neighborhood councils in Los Feliz and Mid City West, and the election of a progressive leadership slate to the Silver Lake Neighborhood Council. After years of a mixed record on safe streets, incumbent Councilmember David Ryu—who voted against L.A.’s Mobility Plan 2035 in November 2015 and killed a much-needed road diet for 6th Street—has recently appeared to shift his stance on safe streets by definitively backing the Rowena road diet after funding a study to question its effectiveness.

We applaud Councilmember Ryu’s newfound support for the Rowena road diet, which was implemented under his predecessor. But unfortunately, new bike and pedestrian infrastructure in CD4 has come at a dismal pace under Ryu’s leadership. Should Councilmember Ryu be re-elected, we encourage him to take a more proactive role in making the case for new speed calming infrastructure, protected bike lanes, and roadway safety reconfigurations throughout CD4.

We asked the candidates for their positions on implementation of projects that reduce deadly vehicle speeds on L.A.’s High Injury Network and safe bike infrastructure connecting to the L.A. River Path. Where Councilmember Ryu’s responses left his stance unclear, Levy expressed unwavering support for these critical projects. Levy also went a step further, outlining a number of additional projects she plans to implement in each of CD4’s neighborhoods. In her words, "Safer streets save lives, period."

After years of inaction on Vision Zero, the City of Los Angeles is at a crossroads for determining whether it will take the bold steps necessary to end roadway deaths by 2025. With her determined, clear-headed support for the tangible, on-the-ground changes needed to make that vision a reality, Levy is the type of leader L.A. has been looking for. Bike The Vote L.A. is honored to endorse Sarah Kate Levy for Los Angeles City Council District 4.

Sarah Kate Levy Questionnaire Response:

1. Los Angeles Metro is constructing and planning multiple transit lines through CD4, including the Purple Line extension, the East Valley Transit Corridor, the Sepulveda corridor line, and the northern extension of the Crenshaw Line. How do you plan to solve the first mile/last mile problem and connect riders to these lines?

As a regular DASH-to-the-Red-Line rider myself, I will advocate for low-cost DASH routes to service all these lines, and I am following with interest the LANow shuttle pilot that is operating on the Westside. I will also insist upon dockless bike and scooter rentals at each station, as well as bike corrals. Most importantly, I will be a champion for creating a network of protected bike lanes across the district that could safely deliver cyclists and scooter-riders to and from these lines.

All Angelenos and visitors to our city should be able to access transit without relying on cars (and parking lots). I would prefer we holistically create a plan to solve first mile/last mile issues rather than let commercial rideshare solely fill the void. As our city holds the distinction for having the worst air quality in the nation, we must do all we can to make public transit convenient, and affordable - or free - to fight the effects that vehicle pollution has wrought on our public health. We must act locally to stall climate change.

2. News outlets are reporting that 242 Angelenos were killed in car crashes in 2018, showing that L.A. has failed to make significant progress towards Vision Zero since adopting the policy in 2015. Why do LA's streets remain so deadly by design? What would you do to make them safer?

L.A. streets remain dangerous because they prioritize cars over people, at the cost of all other modes of transit, from bus and train, to bike, scooter, and foot travel.

Speed limits are too high, too many roads function as busy highways cutting through our neighborhoods. Drivers go many long blocks without crosswalks, stop signs, or stop lights to slow them. Not only is car travel less safe on these fast-moving roads, but because of the drastic lengths between safe crossing points, pedestrians, cyclists, and scooter-riders are encouraged to dash across moving traffic.

This continued focus on cars over people has led us to build out roadways to accommodate even more cars, and create more congestion. Frustrated drivers take dangerous maneuvers through traffic to save time, putting everyone around them at risk.

Our current leadership knows Vision Zero is meant to alleviate these problems -- but they have repeatedly bowed to political pressure over the safety of our residents.

I will fight to make our streets safer by adding more safe crossings for pedestrians, especially in our commercial districts, to encourage people to walk and shop. I will champion protected bike lanes, in a contiguous network throughout the city. I will work with Metro to create protected bus lanes. And I will do all I can to support efforts at the state level to give us more control over our municipal street speeds.

Safer streets save lives, period. Plus they make commuting through this city simpler for all Angelenos.

3. Los Angeles’ traffic woes are compounded by the reality that many parents and students don’t feel safe allowing their children to walk or bike to school. Why do you think this is? What would you do as councilmember to improve active transportation options around schools?

As a mother of four kids, I think it is unacceptable that children continue to die while walking to school in this city. Traffic moves too quickly down many of our streets. Our sidewalks are often narrow, cracked, and absent of tree-cover, creating unsafe conditions for pedestrians. The majority of our existing bike lanes are no safer. I am in favor of traffic calming measures throughout the city, and especially near our schools.

Our schools should all be serviced by our network of protected bike lanes so that parents and children can bike to and from school.

When examining where to plant new trees, school zones should be a priority, to encourage students and their parents to commute by foot.

Crosswalks near school property should be signaled and lit. I will also pursue other strategies, including crosswalks painted with 3-D effects that make flat paint appear to be solid barriers.

School-zones should feature stop signs and crosswalks at every corner within the legislated area of the school-zone, but we should also consider expanding that practice beyond the posted zone, keeping traffic moving more slowly in a wider radius to our schools.

4. Neighborhood councils in CD4, including Silver Lake, Mid City West, and Los Feliz, have all shown strong support for a more bikeable CD4. Despite this, the few bike lanes in CD4 are discontinuous and dump riders out into dangerous thoroughfares. What do you see as the impediments to building out the adopted Mobility Plan 2035’s network of bike infrastructure? Which of the connections in CD4 do you see as a priority and will you push for as councilmember?

I will champion Mobility Plan 2035 even in the face of negative public opinion because I am committed to making all streets in Council District 4 safe. I will not be deterred by a loud minority when it comes to making choices that will improve the community for everybody.

If each community has a school, a business district, or a park, then we should plan for safe bike and pedestrian travel to, from, and around those places. These efforts will keep Angelenos safe and connected to their community. Increased foot and bike traffic in our communities is a boon to public health, mental health, and business, too.

To successfully build out a network of protected bike lanes, I will prioritize streets in the High Injury Network first.

I see Silver Lake / Los Feliz as the logical place to start. The existing road diet on Rowena has engendered some political support, which has, in turn, led the push for more improvements. By doing more work here, we will show the rest of the district, and the city, how much safer our streets can be.

SILVER LAKE / LOS FELIZ

I’d extend the road diet on Rowena/Lakewood to Glendale Boulevard and Fletcher -- this could be done without much disruption to traffic flow and would also connect the bike lanes on Silver Lake Blvd to Rowena (and ideally, to Atwater).

The bike lanes on Silver Lake Blvd from Glendale to Van Pelt should be protected lanes. This easy improvement will reap great rewards in public opinion, which will allow for more work.

I’d push for bike lanes on Glendale & Fletcher to the LA River Path (see 5A).

Mobility Plan 2035 calls for bike lanes on Hyperion. The street may be too narrow to support parking-protected bike lanes, but we do need to connect the lanes on Rowena to Griffith Park Blvd. I will work with the community stakeholders and city planners to see how we can make a safe connection on Hyperion.

Re-paving Griffith Park Boulevard is a also priority, for cyclists and drivers alike.

Once all these connections are in place, connecting bike lanes on Silver Lake Blvd to Glendale / Rowena, and to Rowena / Hyperion / Griffith Park Blvd / LA River Path, we will start to see a connected bike system.

MID CITY / MIRACLE MILE

At the very least, the 4th Street “Bike Boulevard” intersections at Highland and Rossmore should get full traffic signals.

Traffic diverters on some sections of 4th Street are also worth considering, not only to make the “Bike Boulevard” safer to bikes, but also as a hedge against cut-through traffic.

Mid City West Community Council has been working on creating “bike friendly” streets, including Formosa Ave / Cochran Ave. I would strongly advocate implementing the $2.3M Metro grant for Formosa / Cochran, which calls for full bike lanes, as quickly as possible.

I am fully in support of a road diet on 6th Street between La Brea and Fairfax. (See 5B).

Once we see 4th Street / Formosa / Cochran / 6th Street, again, we begin to see a connected network of bike lanes.

SHERMAN OAKS / TOLUCA LAKE

Connecting cyclists to the LA River Path is a major priority in the Valley, as a way to connect to other communities.

Mobility Plan 2035 calls for bike lanes on Ventura Boulevard. There are a lot of changes I would like to see to make Ventura safer, including those bike lanes, and connecting them to the existing lanes on Woodman and Riverside. I would also build out better-protected infrastructure to those lanes.

Crossings should be installed to connect disconnected portions of the LA River Path, including on Kester between the riverfront trail and Ernie’s Walk.

5. Please respond to the following questions regarding specific CD4 corridors with known safety issues:

5A. Bike lanes on Rowena Ave. and Silver Lake Blvd. both terminate at Glendale Blvd., leaving a dangerous gap between these lanes and the L.A. River Path. Despite L.A.’s future plans for revitalization of the Los Angeles River, there are no bike lanes that access the entire segment of the L.A. River Path between Elysian Valley and Glendale. What will you do as councilmember to actively push for bike lanes on Glendale Blvd. and Fletcher Dr. to provide families with safe access by bike to the L.A. River Path?

Creating safe access by bike to the LA River Path will be a priority for my office. Regular cyclists demand it, and for many families, the LA River Path is a preferred recreational route, too.

I support a road diet on Glendale Boulevard that would add bike lanes, ADA compliant sidewalks, and a center turn lane. The center turn lane would improve traffic flow and safety for cars turning left onto Riverside; the bike lanes would not only connect to the River Path, but also connect Silver Lake and Atwater. As there is minimal parking along this stretch, I would push for the bike lanes to be designed as protected bike lanes, to keep families safe as they crossed to the LA River Path.

5B. Despite unanimous support from the Mid City West Community Council for a road diet on 6th Street to provide an important connection to LACMA and to West Hollywood, and in response to 3 fatalities on the street over 5 years, the office of Council District 4 opted instead for a modest plan that added left turn pockets at one intersection. Will you implement the LADOT-recommended road diet?

Yes. This stretch of road is part of the High Injury Network. The road diet was supported by the MCWCC, who conducted a lot of outreach to get the neighborhood behind it. I will push for a plan that includes bike lanes.

5C. Hyperion Ave. was recently the site of a horrific crash that took the life of local grandmother, Cristina Garcia. Citing the unsafe conditions of Hyperion, the Los Feliz Neighborhood Council has repeatedly called for safety improvements to this street, which LADOT has determined is part of the High Injury Network. Speed is the predominant factor in determining whether a crash is deadly. Would you support a road diet reconfiguration of Hyperion Ave. to reduce speeding and improve the safety of pedestrians, people on bikes, and turning drivers?

Yes. I am angry, but not surprised, that the community asked the Councilmember for help, repeatedly, and were met with silence. I’m also angered by the recent LADOT report that tried to wipe the City of blame by citing rain and speed as the culprits in Cristina Garcia’s death. Rain is an act of god, but speed is a factor the City can control -- and should have. They knew this road was unsafe. Cristina Garcia should not be dead.

6. Over the past year, we have seen increased use of privately owned and shared mobility electric scooters throughout Los Angeles. What role do you see for this emerging transportation technology, and how can the City of Los Angeles act to ensure safe mobility for all road users during a time when many Angelenos are making shifts in their mobility choices?

The scooters are here to stay (until the next wave of mobility tech arrives). I believe that the new City rules that put scooters in the street are irresponsible in the extreme. I already worry for cyclists sharing the road, and I have that same fear for scooter riders.

Regardless of which tech wins, the only way to keep scooter riders safe is to build out a network of protected bike lanes that scooter riders can share with cyclists.

#bikethevote #LACD4

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mcccleaningomaha-blog · 4 years ago

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Best Seasonal Snow Removal Services and Cost in Omaha NE | MCC Cleaning Omaha

More Information: http://www.greencleaningomaha.com/seasonal-snow-removal-services.html

Seasonal snow removal services near Omaha NE: Looking for Seasonal snow removal services near Omaha NE? MCC Cleaning Omaha is the source for are busy clearing snow and ice from the many sidewalks, driveways, parking lots and even some of the roads you might be using. Cost? Free estimates! Send us a message or call us today. Best Seasonal Snow removal Services around Omaha NE. We serve Omaha NE and other areas. Get a Free Quote Now!

SEASONAL SNOW REMOVAL SERVICES OMAHA NE

OMAHA SEASONAL SNOW REMOVAL

Enjoy winter without the Worry

Seasonal snow removal services near Omaha NE: There is no doubt that most people love the serene beauty of a fresh early morning snowfall - especially when you can enjoy it from the comfort of your home or office. While you are enjoying it, the trained professionals from Omaha Handyman Service Seasonal Services are busy clearing snow and ice from the many sidewalks, driveways, parking lots and even some of the roads you might be using. We are on call 24 hours a day 7 days a week ready to respond when Mother Nature calls.

Commercial, residential, institutional, public or private, we can efficiently manage the snow and ice removal at any size property. We offer plowing, salting, sanding, shoveling snow removal or ice control services you can imagine. Our fleet of over 30 trucks and 10 loaders is equipped to handle the worst storms. Our Snow Removal Production Managers are always on the road managing the performance of every piece of equipment. State of the art GPS technology allows us to monitor all of our trucks from any computer in the world.

Science, technology, modern equipment and brute strength are all being used to make your property clean and safe.

Seasonal Snow removal is:

● More common in commercial settings - Most businesses have large parking lots full of snow and not much space to store it.

● Good for urban lots - On smaller properties, there may not be any place to store a pile of snow until spring.

● More expensive - Because the snow needs to be scooped up and trucked to another location, snow removal is a pricier option than simply plowing.

Seasonal Snow plowing is:

● More common in residential settings - Many homes have room off the side of the driveway or on the lawn to leave a pile of snow until spring.

● More economical - On most properties, snow plowing is an efficient service which costs a lot less to perform than snow removal.

Types of snow management services

Most snow management is about creating safe egress and space around doors, front walkways, and driveways, says Ritchie. Following are the most common services offered.

Clearing driveways.

Your snow management company may use a plow to clear the driveway, or a snow blower attached to a skid steer. Wider driveways are faster and less costly to clear, while narrow driveways with a lot of obstacles drive up the cost considerably.

Clearing front walkways.

The crew can use a shovel or mechanical broom to clear the front walkway. Most people don't bother clearing all of the paths through the landscape, just the front walk.

Using deicing products.

While the best products vary by region and temperature, most companies will use some combination of sand and salt on driveways and walkways to keep them from icing up. Recommends acetate deicing products because they are less corrosive and don't harm plants.

Shoveling snow from roofs.

If your architecture is such that snow could fall off the roof and block your front door or crush landscaping plants, you may want to consider shoveling the snow off your roof. Again, whenever you are managing snowfall, you have the option of either removing the snow from your property, or pushing it into a pile off to the side where it can melt in spring.

10 REASONS why you should pick MCC Cleaning Omaha Seasonal Services for your snow removal needs:

● 39 years of service.

● We clean up after the city plows at no additional charge (any snowfall 2 inches or greater)

● All snow will remain on your property. We do not push snow across the street.

● We stake your driveway to minimize sod damage and maximize driveway width.

● Our company is and always has been fully insured for your protection.

● Snow removal is our only winter business. We are not a part time snow removal company.

● We have the shortest routes & turnaround times of any company serving the Omaha NE Area, typically 6 hours.

● In the spring, we will repair any lawn damage caused by our equipment at no additional charge; this does not include dead lawn areas due to salt damage.

● We NEVER use sub-contractors.

● Polyurethane plow options available.

Cost of snow management

A number of factors go into the price of snow removal and plowing. A few factors we look at are whether there is good access to the property, how much area there is, and whether there are any obstacles in the way.We may be able to reduce the price if we have a number of clients in the area.

How snow management is billed:

● By the season - Your landscaper can formulate a quote based on the average snowfall over the last few years. The advantage here is that you know how much you will pay at the beginning of the season, even if there are unexpectedly large storms. The disadvantage is that even if you have a light snow season, you still pay the same amount.

● By the inch - In this scenario, your landscaper would give you a sheet with rates for differing amounts of snowfall. You'd pay one price for 1 to 3 inches of snow, a higher rate for 3 to 6 inches of snow, and a more for 6 to 9 inches of snow. This is a fair way of billing because you pay for exactly the service you receive.

● By the hour - Special tasks such as roof shoveling or clearing pathways may be billed by the hour. Light, powdery snow is a lot faster to shovel than is wet and slushy snow.

Because there are so many factors that go into snow management, you'll need to get a quote that takes into account the specifics of your property. For example, an average residential property may cost $50-$75 to plow, but a property with the same area that has a narrow drive, an electric gate to maneuver around, and landscaping right up to the driveway may cost $125-$145.

Seasonal snow removal services near Omaha NE: Snow removal services cost about twice as much as simply plowing. So where possible, try to plan for snow storage during the design phase of your project, because a little forethought in this regard can save you quite a bit of money over the years you will own your property.

We specialize in residential and small commercial lots. We offer snow removal of just the driveway, or a full service, driveway, sidewalks, and salting package. We also do deck clean offs between storms. Depending on your needs, salt/sand mixture can be added to sidewalks, porches, and steps to keep you and your family and visitors safe.

Snow removal prices start at $35 for snow plow, and $40 for snow blowing. Free estimates are always offered.

We have a few different options that you can choose from to have your snow removal service set up:

"No Call" Snow Removal: Whenever it snows over 1, we will clear your driveway and sidewalks free of snow. Pay per visit or by the month. Call or email for more details.

Bundle with Lawn Care: This is our most popular choice. Combine "No-Call" snow blowing with your summer lawn care, and save.

Salting & Sanding: Depending on your needs, let us know if you would like your steps, porch, and sidewalks salted.

Snow removal service starts at $35 per visit. We start our routes when the snowfall stops or at 4 accumulation and we will have your driveway cleared within 24 hours.

Are you looking for yourself and a group of people? We will offer you a discount if you have a group of five or more driveways.

We also provide salting packages where you can have salt delivered to home or business in a bucket with a lid and scoop. When you get low, just let us know and we will come by and fill your bucket!

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS

Q: What streets are plowed whenever it snows?

A: For any snow event, our number one goal is to keep designated salt routes in good winter driving condition. Salt routes are bus routes, primary streets, arterial roads and streets to and from hospitals and schools. These are the streets on which we apply salt and we send crews to work on these routes whenever it snows.

Slippery spots on residential streets will be sanded as needed. City owned sidewalks and priority crosswalks are cleared as needed during regular working hours.

Arterial bikeways are plowed as needed with a goal of having them cleared as soon as possible for commuters.

Q: How do you decide what streets are on the main salt routes?

A: Only main arterials, thoroughfares, main connector streets, Omaha NE Metro bus routes, streets surrounding hospitals and schools and major hills and curves are salted.

Q: Why don't we plow and salt all the streets in the city, specifically secondary and residential streets?

A: Omaha NE limits the amount of salt that is applied to its streets as an effort to protect its groundwater and the quality of the lakes. Only main arterials, thoroughfares, main connector streets, Metro bus routes, streets surrounding hospitals and schools and major hills and curves are salted. All other streets receive sand to act as an abrasive on hills, intersections and curves.

Q: I only have on-street parking. Why do you always plow snow against my car?

A: Even though there are cars parked on the street, the plows must clear the traffic lanes of each of the streets. The snow is plowed to the right to where the curb is. Unfortunately for those people who park on the street, the snow is plowed up against the cars. That is why we ask that all cars try to find off street parking whenever there is snow accumulation of 3 or more and until streets are plowed.

Q: What happens if there are less than 3 inches of snow on the streets?

A: All salt routes are plowed and salted during every measurable snow event regardless of the accumulation. Residential streets that are not salted are only plowed when snow accumulations reach the 3" level and the snow event has ended or has just about concluded. If the residential streets are not plowed, sand is applied at hills, intersections and curves to act as an abrasive to assist in braking.

Q: What happens if there are 3 or more inches of snow on the roads?

A: When the snow accumulation reaches 3" or more, we evaluate and, if necessary, declare a Snow Emergency and convert from a spreading operation to an all-out plowing operation. (During a Snow Emergency declaration, alternate side-parking restrictions go into effect in the Snow Emergency Zone and remain in effect throughout the remainder of the City. The Snow Emergency lasts for a minimum of 2 consecutive nights.)

On the second night of a snow emergency crews will plow back snow on the alternate side of residential streets.

Use the Where Do I Park? App to find out what side of the street to park on each night.

Q: What happens during extreme winter weather events, such as blizzards and ice storms?

A: When Omaha NE is hit with extreme winter events such as blizzards and ice storms, these events can stress our capacity to keep streets safe for driving. During such events, snow and ice operations will focus on a few main streets and routes for emergency vehicles. In extreme weather conditions, we recommend that you stay off the roads.

City staff will issue regular Snow Plow Updates during these severe winter events. Residents can sign up to receive email updates and text alerts on Declared Snow Emergencies and email Snow Plow updates from the Streets Department.

As major winter weather events subside, we will start a General Plowing operation.

Q: Will the snow plow ever completely clear my residential street down to bare pavement?

A: No! It is not the goal of the City's Snow and Ice Policy to have all streets clear down to bare pavement.

Q: How long will it take to finish plowing all the streets?

A: Once a general plow of all 1,793 lane miles of streets begins, it usually takes between 10 to 12 hours to complete.

Q: How do I report that the snow plows missed my street?

A: Submit a missed Snow Removal Report a Problem.

Q: What can I do about snow plows that block my driveway with snow?

A: This is an unfortunate side effect of plowing all streets in the City. All snow must be plowed to the curb and as a result driveways get blocked with the wet, heavy snow from the plow. It is the property owner's responsibility to clear the snow from the bottom of the driveway.

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aldefi1 · 4 years ago

Video

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Exiting home, 1142 am, spy taxi at the hydrant, spy white vehicle in coordination with a an, of course, unloading truck at the supermarket, creating a dangerous situation for me, very CIA NYPD 7592 standing by in case an “accident” would have occurred with the white vehicle. Not in the video, when I passed this NYPD I noticed the cop covering his face with his left hand, FDNY SUV 1, at 7th St and Avenue A, CIA NYPD 6388, and NYPD 6593, at 8th St and Avenue A, very CIA NYPD 3530 at Avenue A and 12th St, CIA Mount Sinai 1726 at Avenue A and 13th St.

Sneakers at 2B. I’d not mention this detail at all, but it is important, because it shows, again, the spies mindset, and what they are willing to do, no matter how small it is. Sneakers at 2B for the, at least, last three weeks, 2B used to leave large objects for very long periods in the common area, they would reduce my bike’s room for maneuvers at my exit and return from my apartment, it doesn’t happen anymore, although it might come back any day. The placement of a small object, sneakers, doesn’t cause me any problem, except, I have to be careful of not touching them as I move my bike, otherwise I might get push into a confrontation, such as “don’t’ you have eyes?, don’t you see the sneakers?” General statement: I say, the spy network, based on my experience, involve percentages of the population, impossible you say, that means millions. In WW II, five million were involved in the Manhattan project, in absolute secrecy, President Truman didn’t know until he was told about it, therefore, do not tell me, it is impossible. You reach secrecy with large number of spies, because they know very little, just enough for a specific task and swore to absolute secrecy, and heavy penalties in case their open their mouths, some legal and others not so much.

As always, most details in my videos are relevant, I can’t describe everything, it would take me much longer that is taking me now to describe all spies attempt to cause an incident or setup a frame. Reviewing the stores’ surveillance video recordings at least ten minutes prior to my arrival and after my departure, should help to understand the way the spies operate, also helps to put in context my videos. Ninety five percent of the time I visit a business, no matter the time of my arrival, there are individuals who start or are, unloading merchandise at that instant, the underlying idea is to cram my space. It appears, some of the stores’ surveillance videos are being collected, I’ve noticed, occasionally, a decrease in the number of spies either standing by in the stores, preceding me or exiting as I arrive, entering as I exit, following me, and gathering at the registers at the time of paying.

The videos and photos I am posting in the net, should be downloaded by the authorities, the spies could delete all my uploaded files with just one click, they know all my passwords. In fact, I do not know how many of my videos and photos are actually reaching others unaltered, or reaching the net at all. I video record as much as I can, because I feel I am alone on this, I cannot trust witnesses, they can easily be intimidated or worst, considering the size of the spy network. I do not understand why the anti-terror laws are not being applied to the spies stalking me. It is obvious, that a network of this size, acting in such illegal manner, can do anything it wants, against any person, institution or company, perhaps Guantanamo can be a destination for the members of this domestic spy network.

Exiting home has always been one the most dangerous instances when I go out, the spies prepare the ground by saturating my apartment with toxins from the moment I state I will be exiting. I’ve been assaulted at the exit, threatened, situations that can quickly escalate are regularly set up. It is not a coincidence that 95% of the time there is no one reliable present when I exit and return home. Objects are regularly left near my apartment’s door, as a way to make a bit more difficult to move my bike around, the spy who normally does it, is 2B, but can be 2C or any other spy from this building.

The authorities should be questioning the employees at the stores I have visited, by asking simple questions, such as: “if they work for any entity, public or private dealing with matters of intelligence or national security”, also, “if they have been instructed about my persona”. All individuals at the building where I live, specially at units: 1B, 2B, 4B, 5B, should be questioned along the same lines, I have the strong impression that no one is being questioned at all. At the building where I have to live, one person was murder at 1A, another one died in very suspicious circumstances at 1B, another one at 4C, a person at 3C, became insane and disappeared from here, two more, I’ve been told and I’ve observed, suffer of some serious mental illness, 2B and 5A. These are the things I know, there could be many more suspicious situations I simply do not know about it.

I avoid having a routine, that is the reason I go to as many stores as is feasible, in that way the spies are forced to spread across a larger area, otherwise, it would be easier for them to concentrate their forces. I keep my bike with me at all times, without chaining it outside, no only because it would be cumbersome to remove and replace my cameras, but because when I have done it, it has been vandalized, sabotage, break cable cut clean, or stolen. The bikes also provide a platform for the cameras, consequently the images are clearer, stable, I believe. I have a camera facing back, this camera dissuade, to a point, the spies, bikes and vehicles, from following me too closely. Before I setup this camera, spy bikers would followed me one feet or two feet away from my bike’s rear wheel.

The presence of ambulances, wherever I go, isn’t just about harassing me with their sirens, it is also about to be the first to pick me up in case of an “accident”, during my month trip trough Canada, in 2009, I could see, practically always, an ambulance behind me, at a subtle distance.

I think CitiBike rentals go up, at least one hour before I leave home and it decreases after I’ve returned home, the few honest authorities left, by checking if I am right, would have another evidence to realize how big is the hunting of my persona. Many of the spy bikers in order to cause an incident, ride in a collision course toward my persona. Also, I strongly believe, street lights, traffic ones, the famous red, yellow and green, are being manipulated, to get me into an accident, specially with pedestrians. Many spies of all ages and look place themselves at many, many corners trough Manhattan while I’m out.

These photos and videos shouldn’t be ignored; these individuals and vehicles are involved in dozens of, mostly, illegal activities. These activities are designed to manipulate the political development of the country, its direction, at a local, national and international level. You might be tempted to think how some of them can be spies at all, to build a credible scenario to put their victims out of circulation, specially trough frames, this diversity is crucial to the spy agencies. It will confirm my assertion when you check the background of these individuals, you will see, the majority of them are already either “victims” or “witnesses” of incidents, the spies always work in very well coordinated packs, these packs always include first respondents. I calculate that around twenty percent of the police force and other first respondents, trough out the country, works for the CIA, they are chosen with only one consideration, their loyalty to the CIA. Most of them, if not all of them, lack of the actual skills to be a good policeman, therefore, incidents, were people get arrested or shot, in many situations where a good policeman would have never arrested the person or diffused the situation without having to shoot, will keep happening.

The majority of the spies start their training very young, in fact, in their early years they are prepared by being subjects of abuses, of all sorts, then, they train by bullying, framing and conning other kids, gang rapes are standard to destroy psychologically their victims. In sum, spies are being manufactured. I believe three percent of the country is involved in domestic espionage activities, although, due that around me they concentrate, the numbers wherever I go, in the streets, might reach up to twenty five percent or more of those individuals you see in my videos, no matter how casual they might appear. In the stores themselves, the spies numbers can easily be one hundred percent.

As far as I can tell, everyone in my family is part of this spy network, I believe, they were incorporated as adults, therefore, their participation, I assume, is forced, trough blackmailing and fear, than professional training. When I discovered that, a very close surveillance was around me, back at the end of 2005, and I told my family about it, their answer was “do not tell anyone because people will think you are crazy” this attitude has not changed. It is very possible, they are telling others, specially authorities, that I am someone with mental troubles, in spite of all my recordings and other evidence. I believe, this spy network has been around me, since I was at least a teenager, therefore, many comments coming from “friends” might also align with the same line my relatives might be stating.

The use of, mainly, minorities, including LGBTQ people, old people, disabled, females, pregnant women, couples, minors, to harass me, is no casual. The idea is, in case I loose my patience, I fall into a trap, I could make comments that the spies would greatly exploit, at a subsequent trial, hence, I would look as bad as is possible. The CIA normally employs this scheme against its many targets. Before I started to upload videos to the net, spy couples, many of them kissing as I bike, would be used in large numbers at any day or hour when I was out, no matter the weather. Since I started to post these videos, the spies have been using them in large numbers and more subdue, mostly on weekends, to make it look more “natural”

Although, I start video recording as I exit from home, and I do not stop recording until I am safely back, I do not post every video in the net, as a way of keeping under my sleeves a few aces. Many spy vehicles keep their headlights on, regardless of time and weather, on most occasions when I go out. License plates from Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and DC, appear often when I am riding.

Corners where the spies normally set up frames when I go out: Every corner at 4th street from Broadway to my home; Houston and Avenue B; Houston and Broadway; 10, 11th streets and Avenue A; Avenue C, from 2nd Street to 11th St; Avenue B and 6 and 7 Streets; 6th St and 1st Avenue; Bowery and 3rd St; 23rd St 23rd and Third Avenue.

From March to September 2008, PS15 went trough renovations, with all the loudness made by the tools employed, many times you could see the workers playing with those tools just to make loud noises. From that period to now, the spies have used all sort of excuses to bring large loud machinery to the street where I live, many times next to my apartment. The spies have extended this excuse to do all kind of work, construction or maintenance, utilities, at buildings and streets, in the area that goes from 14th St, Houston, Broadway and Avenue D, to create situations were I can potentially be put out of circulation due to an “accident”.

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bigyack-com · 5 years ago

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How Boeing’s Responsibility in a Deadly Crash ‘Got Buried’

After a Boeing 737 crashed near Amsterdam more than a decade ago, the Dutch investigators focused blame on the pilots for failing to react properly when an automated system malfunctioned and caused the plane to plummet into a field, killing nine people.The fault was hardly the crew’s alone, however. Decisions by Boeing, including risky design choices and faulty safety assessments, also contributed to the accident on the Turkish Airlines flight. But the Dutch Safety Board either excluded or played down criticisms of the manufacturer in its final report after pushback from a team of Americans that included Boeing and federal safety officials, documents and interviews show.The crash, in February 2009, involved a predecessor to Boeing’s 737 Max, the plane that was grounded last year after accidents in Indonesia and Ethiopia killed 346 people and hurled the company into the worst crisis in its history.A review by The New York Times of evidence from the 2009 accident, some of it previously confidential, reveals striking parallels with the recent crashes — and resistance by the team of Americans to a full airing of findings that later proved relevant to the Max.In the 2009 and Max accidents, for example, the failure of a single sensor caused systems to misfire, with catastrophic results, and Boeing had not provided pilots with information that could have helped them react to the malfunction. The earlier accident “represents such a sentinel event that was never taken seriously,” said Sidney Dekker, an aviation safety expert who was commissioned by the Dutch Safety Board to analyze the crash.Dr. Dekker’s study accused Boeing of trying to deflect attention from its own “design shortcomings” and other mistakes with “hardly credible” statements that admonished pilots to be more vigilant, according to a copy reviewed by The Times.The study was never made public. The Dutch board backed away from plans to publish it, according to Dr. Dekker and another person with knowledge of its handling. A spokeswoman for the Dutch board said it was not common to publish expert studies and the decision on Dr. Dekker’s was made solely by the board.At the same time, the Dutch board deleted or amended findings in its own accident report about issues with the plane when the same American team weighed in. The board also inserted statements, some nearly verbatim and without attribution, written by the Americans, who said that certain pilot errors had not been “properly emphasized.”The muted criticism of Boeing after the 2009 accident fits within a broader pattern, brought to light since the Max tragedies, of the company benefiting from a light-touch approach by safety officials.References to Dr. Dekker’s findings in the final report were brief, not clearly written and not sufficiently highlighted, according to multiple aviation safety experts with experience in crash investigations who read both documents.One of them, David Woods, a professor at the Ohio State University who has served as a technical adviser to the Federal Aviation Administration, said the Turkish Airlines crash “should have woken everybody up.”Some of the parallels between that accident and the more recent ones are particularly noteworthy. Boeing’s design decisions on both the Max and the plane involved in the 2009 crash — the 737 NG, or Next Generation — allowed a powerful computer command to be triggered by a single faulty sensor, even though each plane was equipped with two sensors, as Bloomberg reported last year. In the two Max accidents, a sensor measuring the plane’s angle to the wind prompted a flight control computer to push its nose down after takeoff; on the Turkish Airlines flight, an altitude sensor caused a different computer to cut the plane’s speed just before landing.Boeing had determined before 2009 that if the sensor malfunctioned, the crew would quickly recognize the problem and prevent the plane from stalling — much the same assumption about pilot behavior made with the Max.And as with the more recent crashes, Boeing had not included information in the NG operations manual that could have helped the pilots respond when the sensor failed.Even a fix now proposed for the Max has similarities with the past: After the crash near Amsterdam, the F.A.A. required airlines to install a software update for the NG that compared data from the plane’s two sensors, rather than relying on just one. The software change Boeing has developed for the Max also compares data from two sensors.Critically, in the case of the NG, Boeing had already developed the software fix well before the Turkish Airlines crash, including it on new planes starting in 2006 and offering it as an optional update on hundreds of other aircraft. But for some older jets, including the one that crashed near Amsterdam, the update wouldn’t work, and Boeing did not develop a compatible version until after the accident.The Dutch investigators deemed it “remarkable” that Boeing left airlines without an option to obtain the safeguard for some older planes. But in reviewing the draft accident report, the Americans objected to the statement, according to the final version’s appendix, writing that a software modification had been unnecessary because “no unacceptable risk had been identified.” GE Aviation, which had bought the company that made the computers for the older jets, also suggested deleting or changing the sentence.The Dutch board removed the statement, but did criticize Boeing for not doing more to alert pilots about the sensor problem.Dr. Woods, who was Dr. Dekker’s Ph.D. adviser, said the decision to exclude or underplay the study’s principal findings enabled Boeing and its American regulators to carry out “the narrowest possible changes.”The problem with the single sensor, he said, should have dissuaded Boeing from using a similar design in the Max. Instead, “the issue got buried.”Boeing declined to address detailed questions from The Times. In a statement, the company pointed to differences between the 2009 accident and the Max crashes. “These accidents involved fundamentally different system inputs and phases of flight,” the company said.Asked about its involvement with the Dutch accident report, Boeing said it was “typical and critical to successful investigations for Boeing and other manufacturers to work collaboratively with the investigating authorities.”Joe Sedor, the N.T.S.B. official who led the American team working on the Turkish Airlines investigation, said it was not unusual for investigating bodies to make changes to a report after receiving feedback, or for American safety officials to jointly submit their comments with Boeing.Mr. Sedor is now overseeing the N.T.S.B.’s work on the Max crashes. He acknowledged that reliance on a single sensor was a contributing factor in both cases but cautioned against focusing on it.“Each of these accidents were complex and dynamic events with many contributing factors,” he said. “Boiling them down simply to the number of inputs ignores the many, many more issues that differentiate them.”The F.A.A., in a statement, also emphasized the “unique set of circumstances” surrounding each accident. “Drawing broad connections between accidents involving different types of emergencies oversimplifies what is, by definition, a complex science,” it said.The agency, also part of the American team in the Dutch investigation, declined to say whether the lessons from the Turkish Airlines crash factored into its decision to certify the Max — which was approved to fly in 2017 and became the fastest-selling plane in Boeing’s history.But a senior F.A.A. official, who was not authorized to speak publicly, praised Dr. Dekker’s study and said it identified important issues that had not received enough public attention. The official pointed to the similarities — such as the reliance on a single sensor — between the Turkish Airlines crash and the Max accidents.A spokeswoman for the Dutch board, Sara Vernooij, said it was common practice to amend draft reports in response to outside comments, but she declined to address the specific changes. Other companies and government bodies involved in the investigation, such as the French firm that made the sensors and that country’s aviation safety board, also submitted comments, but the American submission was the most extensive.Ms. Vernooij said the Dutch agency regarded the Dekker study as confidential. “The parts considered relevant by the board were used while writing the final report,” she said.

Focus on the Pilots

On the morning of Feb. 25, 2009, Turkish Airlines Flight 1951 approached Amsterdam, carrying 128 passengers from Istanbul. The first officer guided the plane toward Runway 18R, calling out changes to its speed and direction. He was new to the Boeing jet, so the crew included a third pilot in addition to the captain, who was a former Turkish Air Force officer with about 13 years of experience flying the aircraft.Because of instructions from air traffic control, the crew had to execute a maneuver that could be challenging: slowing while descending more rapidly than normal. They engaged a computer that controlled engine thrust, known as an autothrottle, to help regulate the drop in speed.As the plane dipped to 1,000 feet, the pilots had not yet completed their landing checklist. Strict adherence to airline procedure would have meant circling around for another try, but violations were commonplace at the busy runway, investigators later determined.About a minute later, with the plane at about 450 feet, the pilots’ control sticks began shaking, warning of an impending stall. The jet had slowed too much. Immediately, one of the pilots pushed the thrust lever forward to gain speed, but when he let go, the computer commanded it to idle.The captain intervened, disabling the autothrottle and setting the thrust levers to their maximum. Nine seconds had elapsed since the stall warning. By then, it was too late. The jet plunged into a field less than a mile from the airport.The three pilots, another crew member and five passengers were killed.Dutch investigators determined that the cause of the malfunction was a sensor on the plane’s exterior measuring altitude. The sensor had mistakenly indicated that the plane was just moments from touchdown, prompting the computer to idle the engines.For 70 seconds, the autothrottle had done what the crew intended: steadily cut the plane’s speed. But the pilots failed to notice that the computer did not then maintain the target speed when it was reached; instead, it continued to slow the plane down. The pilots realized what had happened only when the control stick began vibrating.Losing track of airspeed is considered a grave error. The pilots, who investigators believe were preoccupied with the landing checklist, also missed multiple warnings that the autothrottle was acting up. The Dutch board’s conclusions focused on the decision not to abort the landing, the failure to recognize the dangerous drop in speed and the incorrect response to the shaking control stick, possibly because of inadequate training.At the request of the American team led by the N.T.S.B., the Dutch added comments that further emphasized the pilots’ culpability. The final report, for example, included a new statement that scolded the captain, saying he could have used the situation to teach the first officer a “lesson” on following protocol.In their comments, reflected largely in an appendix, the Americans addressed criticism of Boeing in the draft report. A description of the company’s procedures for monitoring and correcting potential safety problems was “technically incorrect, incomplete and overly” simplistic, they wrote. In response, the board inserted a description of Boeing’s safety program written by the Americans and a statement that Boeing’s approach was more rigorous than F.A.A. requirements.The draft had also referred to studies that found it was common for complex automation to confuse pilots and suggested design and training improvements. The studies, the draft said, included research by “Boeing itself.”The Americans objected, saying the statements “misrepresent and oversimplify the research results.” In its final report, the board deleted the Boeing reference.When the Dutch board announced its conclusions during a news conference, its chairman said, “The pilots could have prevented this.”

Missing Information

The Dutch Safety Board had also commissioned Dr. Dekker’s analysis of the accident, which applied an engineering discipline known as human factors. As planes have come to rely on complex computer systems, researchers and investigators have identified design and training practices that can make pilot error less likely.Dr. Dekker, then a professor in Sweden who had investigated other serious crashes and had worked part time flying a 737, acknowledged fatal mistakes by the Turkish Airlines pilots in his 129-page study.But he also found that Boeing bore significant responsibility.While his study was never made public, copies circulated among some researchers and pilots. And his role in the investigation was cited in an appendix to the board’s report. He is now a professor in Australia and the Netherlands.In the study, Dr. Dekker chastised Boeing for designing the autothrottle to rely on just one of two sensors measuring altitude. That decision, he wrote, left “a single-failure pathway in place,” raising the risk that a single error could lead to catastrophe.Five years before the Turkish Airlines crash, Boeing was aware that a sensor malfunction could idle the engines improperly, but the company decided it wasn’t a safety concern, the Dutch investigators wrote. After receiving reports about autothrottle misfires that did not lead to accidents, a Boeing review board determined that if a malfunction occurred, pilots would recognize it and intervene.In the meantime, Boeing developed a software update that allowed the autothrottle to compare the readings from the two altitude sensors. If they differed by more than 20 feet, the autothrottle wouldn’t be able to improperly idle the engines.The safeguard was available in 2006, but the change wouldn’t work on some 737 NG models, like the Turkish Airlines plane, that used an autothrottle computer made by a different company. After the 2009 crash, Boeing developed a version of the update compatible with those computers, and the F.A.A. required airlines to install it.The Dekker study found that another decision by Boeing — to leave important information out of the operations manual — had also hampered the Turkish Airlines pilots.The 737 NG has two parallel sets of computers and sensors, one on the left side of the plane and one on the right. Most of the time, only one set is in control.On the Turkish Airlines flight, the system on the right was in control. The pilots recognized the inaccurate altitude readings and noted that they were coming from the sensor on the left. This would have led them to conclude that the bad data coming from the left didn’t matter because the autothrottle was getting the correct data from the right, Dr. Dekker found.What the pilots couldn’t have known was that the computer controlling the engine thrust always relied on the left sensor, even when the controls on the right were flying the plane. That critical information was nowhere to be found in the Boeing pilots’ manual, Dr. Dekker learned.Erik van der Lely, a 737 NG pilot and instructor for a European airline who studied under Dr. Dekker, told The Times that he had not known about this design peculiarity until he read a copy of the study. “I’m pretty sure none or almost none of the 737 pilots knew that,” he said.When the draft report criticized Boeing for not giving pilots information that might have helped prevent the accident, the Americans disagreed, citing general directions from the training manual and writing, “Boeing did provide appropriate guidance to flight crews.” The plane was “easily recoverable” if the pilots had followed the proper procedures, they said.In its final report, the board retained its general conclusion but softened some language.Boeing later made a similar assessment on the 737 Max. The company did not inform pilots of a new automated system that contributed to both deadly crashes, hindering their ability to counteract its erroneous commands, investigators have determined.Over all, the final report by the Dutch Safety Board did mention some of Dr. Dekker’s conclusions, but the aviation safety experts who read his study said the systemic issues he raised received too little emphasis.For example, while the report noted the design quirk not included in the manual, it did so only briefly amid other technical documentation, and the significance of it was unclear. Dr. Dekker estimated that the board included the equivalent of about one page of information from his study in its report, which was 90 pages in addition to appendices.

‘Failure of Responsibility’

Today, faced with a public outcry over the Max crashes and demands for reforms, Boeing and the F.A.A. have agreed that more attention should be paid to the engineering discipline Dr. Dekker applied in his study.Both the N.T.S.B. and a panel of international experts found that Boeing and the F.A.A. had not sufficiently incorporated lessons from this human-factors research when developing and certifying the Max.But even though the research has been around for decades — an F.A.A. study recommended in 1996 that the industry and regulators embrace the approach more readily — accident investigations have tended to focus on pilot errors while minimizing or ignoring systemic factors, such as design and training problems, experts said.“It’s really easy to blame it on the dead pilots and say it has nothing to do with our improperly designed system,” said Shawn Pruchnicki, who teaches at Ohio State and has worked on accident investigations for the Air Line Pilots Association.Dr. Pruchnicki, who studied under Dr. Dekker, said he had participated in numerous investigations in which human-factors experts were largely ignored. “It just gets frustrating because we keep having the same types of accidents,” he said.Dr. Woods, the Ohio State professor who has advised the F.A.A., wrote an email to colleagues shortly after the first 737 Max crash, in October 2018, of Lion Air Flight 610, which killed 189 people just minutes after taking off from Jakarta, Indonesia. The initial details, he wrote, indicated it was an automation-triggered disaster of the sort that he and others had studied for almost 30 years. He cited research from the 1990s and pointed to the Turkish Airlines crash.“That this situation has continued on for so long without major action is not how engineering is supposed to work,” he wrote.After the second Max crash — in March 2019, of Ethiopian Airlines Flight 302, killing all 157 people on board shortly after takeoff from Addis Ababa — Dr. Woods said in an interview, “I was appalled.”“This is such of a failure of responsibility,” he said. “We’re not supposed to let this happen.” Read the full article

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mandibierly · 7 years ago

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'Cash Cab': 5 things we learned riding with Ben Bailey

yahoo

Cash Cab is back! And as you can see in the video above, no one is happier about it than we are.

After a five-year hiatus, the Discovery trivia series returns Dec. 4 with its Emmy-winning host, comedian Ben Bailey, once again behind the wheel. There are, however, some changes: while contestants still get booted out of the cab if they get three questions wrong — even if they haven’t reached their destination — they can now, in addition to the classic “street shout-out,” do a “social media shout-out” if they’re stumped. Also, each week one group of contestants is surprised with a celebrity passenger (including Matthew Perry, Scott Bakula, and Brooke Shields) joining their team.

For Yahoo Entertainment’s ride in the Cash Cab, Bailey’s stories were the real star. Here’s what we learned:

1. A handful of people have, after learning they’re in the Cash Cab, opted to get out and not play the game. “For different reasons,” Bailey told us. “Some people said they were in the Witness Protection Program. One woman said she works for the CIA and couldn’t be on TV. And several different people were with someone other than their spouse. They’re like, ‘Nope, can’t do it. Can’t be seen on TV.‘”

Of course, there’s always the chance someone is simply not in the mood. “I had a woman start crying when she found out she was in the Cash Cab,” he says. “She, like, panicked and was just sobbing. I’m like, ‘What’s wrong?’ She was like, ‘It’s just been a crazy day. I flew in from Texas, and I had a job interview, and I didn’t make it, and I didn’t get the job. And now I’m trying to get to the airport and I have to play this stupid game.‘” She climbed right out, Bailey says: “It was hilarious. [I mean] it was awful, because she was genuinely in pain, but it was pretty funny looking back.”

2. Contestants do occasionally become enraged after getting a question wrong. Our group was close to the worst, Bailey joked. But seriously, “Sometimes people get pretty angry. These guys struck out on a question, the answer to the question was ‘Dirty bomb,’ and this dude just got out on the corner of Third Avenue and 50-somethingth street and was screaming, ‘Dirty bomb!’ over and over. I’m like, ‘Dude, you need to think about what you’re doing.’ He was freaking out. …. He was never heard from again,” Bailey said.

He also vividly remembers two guys down on the Lower East Side. “They went for the video bonus, and I hit ’em with a figure skating question, and they were like, ‘I think it’s axel. I think it’s axel.’ And they went back and forth and agreed completely that it was axel. And then the guy in the answer seat said ‘Salchow,’ and I was like, ‘Oh no! It was axel!’ And they lost everything. I thought they were gonna fistfight. The guy was so pissed. He did like a double-fisted punch into this partition right here. And I go, ‘There’s no punching in Cash Cab.’ And he goes, ‘I didn’t!’ We have it on eight different cameras,” Bailey said, laughing. “One second after he did it, he’s like, ‘I didn’t!’ It was pretty hilarious.”

3. Yes, people have missed their first three questions. “Three and out? There’s been quite a few of those,” Bailey said. “We always hope for those when it’s our last drive before lunch. ‘If this guy gets one, two, three, we’re gonna get an extra half hour of lunch.‘”

4. The host is a master multitasker. Though he doesn’t have to deal with the sound effects while maneuvering through Manhattan traffic (those are added in post-production), Bailey does have to listen to the producer relaying the questions through his earpiece. “The driving is sort of like second nature. It’s sort of happening under the surface the whole time. But I also have to keep in mind that it is much more important than the game,” he said, laughing again. How close has he come to a fender bender? “Pretty close,” he admitted. “Never actually had one, but we’ve had some close calls.”

5. He has had inebriated passengers. “Oh god, yes,” he said. “I usually am like, ‘All right, I will try to be patient because this will be entertaining. But it’s not fun for me, generally, when they’re drunk.” Has anyone ever thrown up in the Cash Cab? “That’s a surprisingly popular question,” he said. “No one has ever thrown up in the Cash Cab. It is one of the only taxis in New York.”

Cash Cab returns Dec. 4 at 10 p.m. on Discovery.

yahoo

#_author_id:c4b4edd0-b171-11e4-b5fd-0d5c1f5abd78 #video #news #cash cab #discovery #ben bailey #_uuid:7844888a-2a89-3053-9e86-f0be9f6fde0d #_draft:true

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lewigm-blog · 5 years ago

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Newsletter 3: Lima tell you something about Peru’s Capital…

Me trying to imagine and pose for a cute couple’s picture. Cat has to send me a picture of her sitting on some steps so I can photoshop her in. (Also I wonder what was going on with the couple behind me. I’d like to think that I captured a cute moment of them) Published April 16, 2019

Gypsy Music

“God is a gypsy who plays her violin

At the gate of my heart.

Hidden in the high thin notes of her wild music

is her longing for love.

She plays her rhapsody

Until the tears come… longing, longing to be invited in.”

- Sr. Lou Ella Hickman

After spending a short six hours at the Starbucks in Cusco, I finally finished my pre-Lima newsletter in Cusco… That is to say that I am only three newsletters behind now! I am excited to be writing going through my experience and time in Lima with a broader perspective on what the Lima trip has meant for me. The city has much life and is constantly moving with rushed vendors hopping onto moving buses on highways and throughout every street. Interestingly enough, traffic seems to function better than some major U.S. Cities. Everyone here is an aggressive driver, not much like Jersey or Long Island drivers in the ways they can be careless or distracted, but rather they drive with an attentive, but intense approach to driving. Not all conductors can be characterized this way, but I can say this much about the commercially employed and apparently licensed drivers.

Amidst the bustling movement of people and vehicles, I have been able to draw out three “themes” or questions that capture my time in Lima: Traffic, privilege and more traffic, “Why am I here?”, and “Bohemian Rhapsody” While some of the events and moments I describe while in Lima fall clearly into one theme, most others blend and find their place somewhere in between.

Traffic, privilege and more traffic

As my fellow first year community mate and I arrived in Lima, we were met with an overwhelming heat and cloudiness that pervaded each and every breath we took. It was as if Peru was letting us know that although we had come down 3,000 meters of altitude, we weren’t going to make it through the coastal region without some discomfort. In true volunteer fashion, we were provided with a cheap Altel “dumb” phone (which only worked on speaker phone) to communicate with our JVC community back home for anything migrations related. Another adjustment we had to make was navigating the city without access to consistent internet. We found ourselves downloading, screenshotting and even hand drawing walking and bus routes to move around. It became our nuanced approach to being simple living JVs in Lima.

One of the aspects that struck me the most about Lima was the rhythm and pace of the traffic and the Limeñan people. Our entire first day in Lima was spent attempting to understand the bus routes and system. We stayed at the “humble” Inmaculada Colegio located in Santiago del Surco, which was conveniently located near a major highway (Panamerica Sur Highway). The highways have bridges and other points of access so that pedestrians could make their way to bus stops. Bus companies in Peru tend to be privatized and have specific routes which only added to the confusion. The city of Lima had its own public bus company, but we never made it to that point in our time with public transportation. After failing to describe our destination to nearly 20 buses, we decided to hop on a random bus and see where it took us.

Once aboard, we zipped past several districts and areas of the city, both poor and underdeveloped and also drove through areas that were more touristy and gentrified. One region in particular, San Luis, had me disconcerted and would shift my perspective for the rest of my time in the city. As the bus drivers maneuvered through hordes of stagnant traffic, several passengers hopped on and off to get to their destination. One young man, about my age, made his way onto the bus and stood near a woman in a seat in front of my community mate. I initially thought nothing of him as he appeared to be just another passenger who, like most other Peruvians on public transportation, had little regard for personal space. He suddenly bent over and drew closer to this woman putting his arm around her, speaking to her as a close friend would. I couldn’t hear much of anything over the incessant car horns and chants of street vendors attempting to sell their goods, but after he spoke, the woman seemed distressed as she began to shake her head. He crouched down, and it appeared that he was comforting her. She then opened her backpack and he searched through it, taking out some money. He casually called over a bus vendor selling snacks and purchased a soda with her— I suppose now his—money. In a dramatic and cruel fashion, he opened and drank the soda in front of her, gasping in delight after consuming the first sip of his spoils.

If my description of this event so far hasn’t told you much about me, I am quite weary and observant of those around me, especially in unfamiliar territories. Perhaps it was the inner gringo in me or all the news media clips that my mom and other family members would share with me before arriving in Lima, but I feared for my own safety. In that moment, I felt that my decision to wear Chaccos, Touristy white cargo shorts and a Henle Long sleeve shirt was the worst thing I could’ve possibly done (Picture this but with a different shirt). I experienced an intense pressure and anxiety as my Americanness and privilege seemed surged up as if it was beach ball that I was trying to hide underneath water. I felt very out of place and wanted nothing more than to disappear. I had never seen a robbery in action.

What could I have really done? What if he approached my community mate? I only felt the sweat profusely leaving the pores from my hands onto my knees and shorts as these thoughts passed through my mind. Seeing what I believed to be a casual Jason Bourne-esque robbery on the bus, I only wanted to get back to Andahuaylillas. I struggled thinking about how I would travel the rest of my time in Lima. My community mate and I still had a whole 12 days in the city, and I wanted nothing more than to leave after our migrations process was over. I was never quite at ease during the rest of the trip after that moment but had to pull it together for migrations.

The next few days were spent drawing out maps to the tramites and customs office about an hour walk away. What we expected would be a process that would take a few trips and days was over in a matter of three hours. We left the Inmaculada early ordering an Uber from inside the Inmaculada to take us to the interpol and customs office. We thought we had arrived early enough but there was a long line of others waiting to be let through. One thing to note is that Peruvian lines can be complicated and generally disorganized, but we didn’t know that at the time. With a great wave and influx of Venezuelan refugees, things were backed up for everyone who may have just wanted to renew their licenses, ID’s and file any other paperwork. I was growing nervous after seeing other folks in line pulling out the same sheets of paper that looked completely different than ours. I thought that we had forgotten something back in Andahuaylillas and our trip would be for nothing!

When we finally reached the front of the line, an employee asked me where my papers were, and he noticed that my community mate and I had United States passports. He then loudly exclaimed “Oh you’re AMERICANS?! Why didn’t you come up front and say so?!” and then he took us inside. As we walked past several offices and groups of people, we were told that we had waited in the Venezuelan line and we would be tended to shortly. The process afterwards was clear and simple. We were fingerprinted, had our teeth checked and signed a few documents. Within a few hours we were out of the interpol offices and I was to check up on my religious carnet in a few weeks back home in Cusco. It seemed like an easy process for us but there were many Venezuelans still in lines and I wondered how long they would be there.

For those who may not know, Venezuela is going through an economic, political and humanitarian crisis. The “President” Nicolás Maduro has allowed for much corruption to go unchecked for years, leaving many to flee the country so that they can provide for themselves and their families. Many Venezuelans seek refuge in nearby countries such as Ecuador, Bolivia, Colombia and Peru. Many of the street and bus vendors in Peru today are Venezuelans hoping to make some money to meet up with family in other countries, or to simply feed themselves for the day. It is both sad and amazing to see the resiliency and positivity of many Venezuelans who are grateful for every sale and donation.

During my trip with the tourist bus company PeruHop, I met a Venezuelan named Luis in Paracas who was working in a hostel we stayed at. He fled the country as things were starting to get violent and desperate and he told me how grateful he was to find employment and a place to stay. Most of Luis’ friends and family weren’t so lucky. Oftentimes, even if they managed to leave Venezuela, they struggled finding consistent employment.

The sentiment and tensions that some of the Limeñans had towards the newly immigrated Venezuelans weren’t helpful during the mass migration. During mass at the Inmaculada, some Catholics grumbled about parables or readings that welcomed the stranger and foreigner. This crisis has been going on since Hugo Chavez’ presidency in 2010. It has been nearly a decade and the issues have yet to be resolved. The distaste and disapproval of their migration seemed ironic to me because just a few decades prior, Venezuela had opened its borders to receive Peruvians. I suppose it surprised me to witness a distaste of migrants and refugees in another country. These issues are present everywhere I suppose.

Why am I here?

This question of “Why am I here?” came up often during my time in Lima. After our migrations experience took only a mere 3 hours to accomplish, I wondered what we were going to be doing for the next 12 days. My community mate and I decided to spend a few days on the safe and touristy bus company called PeruHop. It took us to the beach town of Paracas, near the Ballestas Islands or better known as “The Galapagos of Peru.” We also stayed in Huacachina and the area of Ica, home of the largest desert oasis where spent an afternoon looking at the sunset after sandbuggying. This was definitely an experience that I would normally enjoy but given the reason I had come to Peru in the first place, seemed to contradict the JVC value of simple living and solidarity with the people we served.

This was a difficult discernment process because it wasn’t a decision that affected solely myself, but my other community mate as well. I had not been accustomed to living a life of much travel, vacation and privilege before. As some of you may know, I was raised with my brother by a single mother who had sacrificed much to ensure that we were provided with the necessities. Here and there money would be saved up to take a trip to the free Knoebels family park or on the rare occasion, to Dorney Park. Time off and vacationing wasn’t the norm for me, and it was difficult to discuss with my JV community mate since our upbringings were starkly different. I constantly had to ask myself, “Is this really simple living? Why am I spending more than 3 months’ worth of stipend for a trip that most of the people in the Quispicanchi region will never experience? Am I doing this because I want to or to appease the community?” Questions like these surged constantly and left me feeling uneasy and resentful.

I understand that I have many differences with others, but I struggled to find a balance between our different gustos (tastes) and interests during our time in Lima. It was a particular challenge being just one on one with that person, but I (eventually) realized that I was at odds with my community mate because we are different people. I understood the saying “You learn a lot about yourself and others when you travel with them.” It was certainly an intense way of experiencing this saying as it was two people.

I have found that this whole arranged marriage part of the Jesuit Volunteer experience was difficult because well… it’s arranged! In my life, especially leading up to my departure, I tried spending most of my time and energy with the people I cared for the most. I had no problem leaving an event or kindly declining invitations to spend time with acquaintances. I simply did not have the time to casually be wasting time, or at least that was how I bluntly rationalized that decision. I spent time with the individuals who I would consider true friends, the people that gave me so much life and added value to me as a person. I believe that I may have brought a bit too much of that no-acquaintance attitude into Peru. Naturally, I didn’t realize this completely on my own. I had the help of some Jesuit apartment mates for two weeks at the Inmaculada.

Bohemian Rhapsody

Contrary to my earlier descriptions, not all from my trip was a negative experience. I had a wonderful time within the walls of the Inmaculada. With it being the start of the “summer vacation,” the colegio was empty and quiet. The only sounds came from construction, much like the University of Scranton during the summer. Life was still going on, but at a much slower pace. Any other noises would come from the aforementioned Zoo, but mostly from the bird exhibit. Macaws and Peacocks would constantly shriek and call out throughout the days and late in the evening. I never quite grew accustomed to those sounds because they were always foreign and unexpected in the super city.

The time I would spend in the Inmaculada before and after exploring the city with my community mate was a time to order my life and for calm reflection. This was both good and bad because I would have a lot of time on my hands to think about why I am here, which was a frustrating question to ask. I felt that I was just wasting my time and struggled to understand what this time in Lima really meant. I was at odds with my community mate on how to navigate the city. I struggled with the value of simple living after paying for three months’ worth of stipend for PeruHop. I wanted to start working and although I recognized that I would (eventually) appreciate my time adjusting into Peruvian life, but that didn’t make going through it any easier. Interior conflict and resentment was a brewin’ and what I needed was some spiritual direction.

I found that during those times I would write and converse with the Jesuit brothers and priests who stayed in the Inmaculada to reorient myself. I discovered much life and joy within the Jesuit milieu in the mornings around the dining room. It was a time that I would chat with my new source of inspiration and passion for food, Olga. I would always cook an egg in the kitchen so that I could preview what was to come for lunch and hear about her life in Venezuela. I also noticed the routines and particularities of some of the Jesuits. One Jesuit would always have a fruit, perhaps a granadia or a sliced apple, while reading the paper. Another would always ask Olga for an over easy egg. As she would make his egg, he would toast a slice of bread, spread butter and pour olive oil, made from the Inmaculada’s own olive trees, onto his toast. Quite a unique way to do breakfast, but my community mate learned another way to spread butter!

Everyone had a routine and I realized that it was something that I longed for myself. I began asking them about their lives and roles in Lima. Some Jesuits were simply passing through, while others were more permanent residents working within the schools in the area. I really enjoyed my time with the director of the Inmaculada, Father Oscar. He was the parish priest who originally brought JVC to Andahuaylillas. I also enjoyed speaking with Monsignor Alfredo Vizcarra, the bishop in Jaen. His story was particularly interesting because he was sent to work in Chad, where he founded 17 Fe y Alegria schools. He had no particular desire or interest to go to Chad, but that is where he was sent, and he was able to make a difference there. Monsignor Vizcarra told me that although his mission had many successes, the journey was not without any challenges or failures. In that moment, I related to this because I hadn’t clicked particularly with any of my community mates. Perhaps I wasn’t as open to the experience to learn and grow within the JV community as I had once thought…

“Hidden in the high thin notes of her wild music is her longing for love…”

This was an experience of God; a chord was faintly being played that I recognized, something I could hum along to. The initial feelings that I had when I was called to enter this JV experience resurfaced and I felt renewed to be challenged as a person to grow for and with others. The sound that beckoned me brought with it much excitement and fear. It was a call to be more able to find God in all things. In that conversation with Alfredo, I had also asked him about his motivations for joining the Jesuits. He told me that he was called early on in life, but with a well-maintained prayer life and dialogue with God, he found solace as he left his studies of law for the Jesuits.

As he continued to speak, I questioned and began revisiting my faith life and relationship to God. Was what I had only a technical or academic sense of faith? Do I really believe that I am a Catholic? Can I say confidently that I own my faith, that I have a relationship and prayer life with God? I realized that the answer wasn’t clear just yet. Up until that point I realized that I didn’t have a defined and clear relationship with God. I don’t know if anyone ever does reach a constant state of nirvana, but I felt that perhaps I wasn’t even trying. I merely appreciated what the Catholic faith life had added to my life. Sunday masses helped provide an orientation for my life one week at a time. Ignatian Spirituality appealed to me because of its intellectual approach to faith and life. It was as if I was stuck with only talking about Faith, God and sharing stories and reflections of my life without ever being clear that God was at the center of it all.

“At the gate of my heart…is her longing for love…longing, longing to be invited in…”

I didn’t believe in the faith with all my heart. I saw its goodness and potential, but I was not ready to accept it. This was the challenge for which I felt called to face during my time here in Peru. It was also a call to see God in other people as well. I realized something surprising about myself during this reflective period. I had been used to taking on the responsible, big brother role within my family and I was beginning to show some of that with my community mate at times. I had come into this volunteer experience with expectations and desires for what I wanted a Jesuit volunteer to be. Naturally, when those expectations weren’t met, I was going to be inevitably frustrated. I had not given myself or my community mate the space to discover this new world and chapter in our lives. It wasn’t fair of me to do that, and it is something that I have slowly been improving on.

My conversations with the Jesuits and my brief experiences of prayer after that night gave me something more focused to work on; To be truly open to witnessing and hearing God’s call to not only love others, but to allow myself to accept the ways in which others want to love me. I hope that with time and effort, I can continue to explore and renew the commitment to a healthy and holistic relationship with God. To nurture a relationship with the God that is always there, the God that is always beckoning us to let Him in, even when and where we least expect it.

“Is this the real life? Is this just Fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality. Open your eyes, look up to the sky and see...”

Gypsy Music (Or what I call “God’s Bohemian Rhapsody”)

“God is a gypsy who plays her violin

At the gate of my heart.

Hidden in the high thin notes of her wild music

is her longing for love.

She plays her rhapsody

Until the tears come… longing, longing to be invited in.”

- Sr. Lou Ella Hickman

A group of international PeruHop friends after winning Trivia Pictured (Left to Right): Jenz (Our Danish sugar daddy who paid for our drinks) Jary (Holland Native who came for Peru’s international car derby Dakar, Also loves Chipotle more than anyone I know even though he’s only been there once), Jack (An Australian student just traveling and balling on a budget) Me (Inhaling to look decent in the apparently medium sized shirt) Phyllis (My community mate who killed the celebrity part of Trivia) Margerite (German free spirit who was such a kind soul)

The view from the Olive Cerro at the Inmaculada. It was cloudy but a spectacular view nonetheless

Links to Photos:

Lima: https://photos.app.goo.gl/HnVHCALVR6naKB7s6

PeruHop Adventures: https://photos.app.goo.gl/rpkFB8eWsf677aUB8

#JVC Peru IgotroadsinLima

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mastcomm · 5 years ago

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How Boeing’s Responsibility in a Deadly Crash ‘Got Buried’

The fault was hardly the crew’s alone, however. Decisions by Boeing, including risky design choices and faulty safety assessments, also contributed to the accident on the Turkish Airlines flight. But the Dutch Safety Board either excluded or played down criticisms of the manufacturer in its final report after pushback from a team of Americans that included Boeing and federal safety officials, documents and interviews show.

The crash, in February 2009, involved a predecessor to Boeing’s 737 Max, the plane that was grounded last year after accidents in Indonesia and Ethiopia killed 346 people and hurled the company into the worst crisis in its history.

A review by The New York Times of evidence from the 2009 accident, some of it previously confidential, reveals striking parallels with the recent crashes — and resistance by the team of Americans to a full airing of findings that later proved relevant to the Max.

In the 2009 and Max accidents, for example, the failure of a single sensor caused systems to misfire, with catastrophic results, and Boeing had not provided pilots with information that could have helped them react to the malfunction. The earlier accident “represents such a sentinel event that was never taken seriously,” said Sidney Dekker, an aviation safety expert who was commissioned by the Dutch Safety Board to analyze the crash.

Dr. Dekker’s study accused Boeing of trying to deflect attention from its own “design shortcomings” and other mistakes with “hardly credible” statements that admonished pilots to be more vigilant, according to a copy reviewed by The Times.

The study was never made public. The Dutch board backed away from plans to publish it, according to Dr. Dekker and another person with knowledge of its handling. A spokeswoman for the Dutch board said it was not common to publish expert studies and the decision on Dr. Dekker’s was made solely by the board.

At the same time, the Dutch board deleted or amended findings in its own accident report about issues with the plane when the same American team weighed in. The board also inserted statements, some nearly verbatim and without attribution, written by the Americans, who said that certain pilot errors had not been “properly emphasized.”

The muted criticism of Boeing after the 2009 accident fits within a broader pattern, brought to light since the Max tragedies, of the company benefiting from a light-touch approach by safety officials.

References to Dr. Dekker’s findings in the final report were brief, not clearly written and not sufficiently highlighted, according to multiple aviation safety experts with experience in crash investigations who read both documents.

One of them, David Woods, a professor at the Ohio State University who has served as a technical adviser to the Federal Aviation Administration, said the Turkish Airlines crash “should have woken everybody up.”

Some of the parallels between that accident and the more recent ones are particularly noteworthy. Boeing’s design decisions on both the Max and the plane involved in the 2009 crash — the 737 NG, or Next Generation — allowed a powerful computer command to be triggered by a single faulty sensor, even though each plane was equipped with two sensors, as Bloomberg reported last year. In the two Max accidents, a sensor measuring the plane’s angle to the wind prompted a flight control computer to push its nose down after takeoff; on the Turkish Airlines flight, an altitude sensor caused a different computer to cut the plane’s speed just before landing.

Boeing had determined before 2009 that if the sensor malfunctioned, the crew would quickly recognize the problem and prevent the plane from stalling — much the same assumption about pilot behavior made with the Max.

And as with the more recent crashes, Boeing had not included information in the NG operations manual that could have helped the pilots respond when the sensor failed.

Even a fix now proposed for the Max has similarities with the past: After the crash near Amsterdam, the F.A.A. required airlines to install a software update for the NG that compared data from the plane’s two sensors, rather than relying on just one. The software change Boeing has developed for the Max also compares data from two sensors.

Critically, in the case of the NG, Boeing had already developed the software fix well before the Turkish Airlines crash, including it on new planes starting in 2006 and offering it as an optional update on hundreds of other aircraft. But for some older jets, including the one that crashed near Amsterdam, the update wouldn’t work, and Boeing did not develop a compatible version until after the accident.

The Dutch investigators deemed it “remarkable” that Boeing left airlines without an option to obtain the safeguard for some older planes. But in reviewing the draft accident report, the Americans objected to the statement, according to the final version’s appendix, writing that a software modification had been unnecessary because “no unacceptable risk had been identified.” GE Aviation, which had bought the company that made the computers for the older jets, also suggested deleting or changing the sentence.

The Dutch board removed the statement, but did criticize Boeing for not doing more to alert pilots about the sensor problem.

Dr. Woods, who was Dr. Dekker’s Ph.D. adviser, said the decision to exclude or underplay the study’s principal findings enabled Boeing and its American regulators to carry out “the narrowest possible changes.”

The problem with the single sensor, he said, should have dissuaded Boeing from using a similar design in the Max. Instead, “the issue got buried.”

Boeing declined to address detailed questions from The Times. In a statement, the company pointed to differences between the 2009 accident and the Max crashes. “These accidents involved fundamentally different system inputs and phases of flight,” the company said.

Asked about its involvement with the Dutch accident report, Boeing said it was “typical and critical to successful investigations for Boeing and other manufacturers to work collaboratively with the investigating authorities.”

Joe Sedor, the N.T.S.B. official who led the American team working on the Turkish Airlines investigation, said it was not unusual for investigating bodies to make changes to a report after receiving feedback, or for American safety officials to jointly submit their comments with Boeing.

Mr. Sedor is now overseeing the N.T.S.B.’s work on the Max crashes. He acknowledged that reliance on a single sensor was a contributing factor in both cases but cautioned against focusing on it.

“Each of these accidents were complex and dynamic events with many contributing factors,” he said. “Boiling them down simply to the number of inputs ignores the many, many more issues that differentiate them.”

The F.A.A., in a statement, also emphasized the “unique set of circumstances” surrounding each accident. “Drawing broad connections between accidents involving different types of emergencies oversimplifies what is, by definition, a complex science,” it said.

The agency, also part of the American team in the Dutch investigation, declined to say whether the lessons from the Turkish Airlines crash factored into its decision to certify the Max — which was approved to fly in 2017 and became the fastest-selling plane in Boeing’s history.

But a senior F.A.A. official, who was not authorized to speak publicly, praised Dr. Dekker’s study and said it identified important issues that had not received enough public attention. The official pointed to the similarities — such as the reliance on a single sensor — between the Turkish Airlines crash and the Max accidents.

A spokeswoman for the Dutch board, Sara Vernooij, said it was common practice to amend draft reports in response to outside comments, but she declined to address the specific changes. Other companies and government bodies involved in the investigation, such as the French firm that made the sensors and that country’s aviation safety board, also submitted comments, but the American submission was the most extensive.

Ms. Vernooij said the Dutch agency regarded the Dekker study as confidential. “The parts considered relevant by the board were used while writing the final report,” she said.

Focus on the Pilots

Because of instructions from air traffic control, the crew had to execute a maneuver that could be challenging: slowing while descending more rapidly than normal. They engaged a computer that controlled engine thrust, known as an autothrottle, to help regulate the drop in speed.

As the plane dipped to 1,000 feet, the pilots had not yet completed their landing checklist. Strict adherence to airline procedure would have meant circling around for another try, but violations were commonplace at the busy runway, investigators later determined.

About a minute later, with the plane at about 450 feet, the pilots’ control sticks began shaking, warning of an impending stall. The jet had slowed too much. Immediately, one of the pilots pushed the thrust lever forward to gain speed, but when he let go, the computer commanded it to idle.

The captain intervened, disabling the autothrottle and setting the thrust levers to their maximum. Nine seconds had elapsed since the stall warning. By then, it was too late. The jet plunged into a field less than a mile from the airport.

The three pilots, another crew member and five passengers were killed.

Dutch investigators determined that the cause of the malfunction was a sensor on the plane’s exterior measuring altitude. The sensor had mistakenly indicated that the plane was just moments from touchdown, prompting the computer to idle the engines.

For 70 seconds, the autothrottle had done what the crew intended: steadily cut the plane’s speed. But the pilots failed to notice that the computer did not then maintain the target speed when it was reached; instead, it continued to slow the plane down. The pilots realized what had happened only when the control stick began vibrating.

Losing track of airspeed is considered a grave error. The pilots, who investigators believe were preoccupied with the landing checklist, also missed multiple warnings that the autothrottle was acting up. The Dutch board’s conclusions focused on the decision not to abort the landing, the failure to recognize the dangerous drop in speed and the incorrect response to the shaking control stick, possibly because of inadequate training.

At the request of the American team led by the N.T.S.B., the Dutch added comments that further emphasized the pilots’ culpability. The final report, for example, included a new statement that scolded the captain, saying he could have used the situation to teach the first officer a “lesson” on following protocol.

In their comments, reflected largely in an appendix, the Americans addressed criticism of Boeing in the draft report. A description of the company’s procedures for monitoring and correcting potential safety problems was “technically incorrect, incomplete and overly” simplistic, they wrote. In response, the board inserted a description of Boeing’s safety program written by the Americans and a statement that Boeing’s approach was more rigorous than F.A.A. requirements.

The draft had also referred to studies that found it was common for complex automation to confuse pilots and suggested design and training improvements. The studies, the draft said, included research by “Boeing itself.”

The Americans objected, saying the statements “misrepresent and oversimplify the research results.” In its final report, the board deleted the Boeing reference.

When the Dutch board announced its conclusions during a news conference, its chairman said, “The pilots could have prevented this.”

Missing Information

Dr. Dekker, then a professor in Sweden who had investigated other serious crashes and had worked part time flying a 737, acknowledged fatal mistakes by the Turkish Airlines pilots in his 129-page study.

But he also found that Boeing bore significant responsibility.

While his study was never made public, copies circulated among some researchers and pilots. And his role in the investigation was cited in an appendix to the board’s report. He is now a professor in Australia and the Netherlands.

In the study, Dr. Dekker chastised Boeing for designing the autothrottle to rely on just one of two sensors measuring altitude. That decision, he wrote, left “a single-failure pathway in place,” raising the risk that a single error could lead to catastrophe.

Five years before the Turkish Airlines crash, Boeing was aware that a sensor malfunction could idle the engines improperly, but the company decided it wasn’t a safety concern, the Dutch investigators wrote. After receiving reports about autothrottle misfires that did not lead to accidents, a Boeing review board determined that if a malfunction occurred, pilots would recognize it and intervene.

In the meantime, Boeing developed a software update that allowed the autothrottle to compare the readings from the two altitude sensors. If they differed by more than 20 feet, the autothrottle wouldn’t be able to improperly idle the engines.

The safeguard was available in 2006, but the change wouldn’t work on some 737 NG models, like the Turkish Airlines plane, that used an autothrottle computer made by a different company. After the 2009 crash, Boeing developed a version of the update compatible with those computers, and the F.A.A. required airlines to install it.

The Dekker study found that another decision by Boeing — to leave important information out of the operations manual — had also hampered the Turkish Airlines pilots.

The 737 NG has two parallel sets of computers and sensors, one on the left side of the plane and one on the right. Most of the time, only one set is in control.

On the Turkish Airlines flight, the system on the right was in control. The pilots recognized the inaccurate altitude readings and noted that they were coming from the sensor on the left. This would have led them to conclude that the bad data coming from the left didn’t matter because the autothrottle was getting the correct data from the right, Dr. Dekker found.

What the pilots couldn’t have known was that the computer controlling the engine thrust always relied on the left sensor, even when the controls on the right were flying the plane. That critical information was nowhere to be found in the Boeing pilots’ manual, Dr. Dekker learned.

Erik van der Lely, a 737 NG pilot and instructor for a European airline who studied under Dr. Dekker, told The Times that he had not known about this design peculiarity until he read a copy of the study. “I’m pretty sure none or almost none of the 737 pilots knew that,” he said.

When the draft report criticized Boeing for not giving pilots information that might have helped prevent the accident, the Americans disagreed, citing general directions from the training manual and writing, “Boeing did provide appropriate guidance to flight crews.” The plane was “easily recoverable” if the pilots had followed the proper procedures, they said.

In its final report, the board retained its general conclusion but softened some language.

Boeing later made a similar assessment on the 737 Max. The company did not inform pilots of a new automated system that contributed to both deadly crashes, hindering their ability to counteract its erroneous commands, investigators have determined.

Over all, the final report by the Dutch Safety Board did mention some of Dr. Dekker’s conclusions, but the aviation safety experts who read his study said the systemic issues he raised received too little emphasis.

For example, while the report noted the design quirk not included in the manual, it did so only briefly amid other technical documentation, and the significance of it was unclear. Dr. Dekker estimated that the board included the equivalent of about one page of information from his study in its report, which was 90 pages in addition to appendices.

‘Failure of Responsibility’

Both the N.T.S.B. and a panel of international experts found that Boeing and the F.A.A. had not sufficiently incorporated lessons from this human-factors research when developing and certifying the Max.

But even though the research has been around for decades — an F.A.A. study recommended in 1996 that the industry and regulators embrace the approach more readily — accident investigations have tended to focus on pilot errors while minimizing or ignoring systemic factors, such as design and training problems, experts said.

“It’s really easy to blame it on the dead pilots and say it has nothing to do with our improperly designed system,” said Shawn Pruchnicki, who teaches at Ohio State and has worked on accident investigations for the Air Line Pilots Association.

Dr. Pruchnicki, who studied under Dr. Dekker, said he had participated in numerous investigations in which human-factors experts were largely ignored. “It just gets frustrating because we keep having the same types of accidents,” he said.

Dr. Woods, the Ohio State professor who has advised the F.A.A., wrote an email to colleagues shortly after the first 737 Max crash, in October 2018, of Lion Air Flight 610, which killed 189 people just minutes after taking off from Jakarta, Indonesia. The initial details, he wrote, indicated it was an automation-triggered disaster of the sort that he and others had studied for almost 30 years. He cited research from the 1990s and pointed to the Turkish Airlines crash.

“That this situation has continued on for so long without major action is not how engineering is supposed to work,” he wrote.

After the second Max crash — in March 2019, of Ethiopian Airlines Flight 302, killing all 157 people on board shortly after takeoff from Addis Ababa — Dr. Woods said in an interview, “I was appalled.”

“This is such of a failure of responsibility,” he said. “We’re not supposed to let this happen.”

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/tech/how-boeings-responsibility-in-a-deadly-crash-got-buried/

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