#then you don’t get to complain that your receive intolerance in return

[repostedpoliticalarts]

Anti-theists are somehow almost more hateful in general than Evangelicals, which shouldn’t be possible, but apparently is.

Religion has existed since humans first started trying to understand the world around us and religion will continue to exist for as long as there are humans. Religion is one of many ways that humans interact with and process our world and that's never going to change.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Light on the Door (ao3) (WWX in the Nie sect) - on tumblr: part 1, part 2

-

“Absolutely not,” Nie Mingjue said.

“I know this has come as a surprise to you,” Jiang Fengmian said, and his voice was calm and pleasant the way it always was. Reasonable. “But you must understand that –”

Nie Mingjue held up a hand. “Perhaps I was unclear, Sect Leader Jiang,” he said. “Let me clarify: absolutely fucking not.”

Jiang Fengmian was not an easy man to anger, nor did Nie Mingjue truly want to do so: he needed as many allies in the inevitable war against the Wens as he could manage. If he was smart the way Jin Guangshan was always encouraging him to be, he would soften his words, smile, try to make things palatable – but he was not Jin Guangshan, and he had never bent on a matter of principle.

Especially not when the principle was small and young and still unsure of himself underneath his bravado, afraid of losing all that he had gained in a single moment.

“His father was my right hand,” Jiang Fengmian said, a rare frown creasing his face. “The Jiang sect would raise him as his father had intended.”

“His father is dead,” Nie Mingjue rebutted. “And before he died, he was a rogue cultivator – your Jiang sect has no claim here.”

“Legally, no,” Jiang Fengmian said. “But morally –”

“He joined my Nie sect willingly,” Nie Mingjue interrupted. His hands are clenched into fists behind his back: of course this would be the thing that Jiang Fengmian refused to bend on, it was different when it was his family that died, their legacy he wished to see fulfilled, and never mind about the murderer that still walked free and unhindered even by mere criticism. Never mind that that had been a father, too. “As is his right. If he wishes to go, I will not stop him –”

There was a moment there where Jiang Fengmian looked pleased, as if he thought Nie Mingjue was giving in.

“– but I do not understand him to want to,” he finished. “And no, before you ask, I will not let you bully him and bribe him until he does as you wish; as long as he is part of my Nie sect, he will be protected even from that.”

“Am I not even allowed to make the offer?” Jiang Fengmian asked, clear challenge in his voice. He even permitted his qi to flare up, cultivation acting to suppress those in the area – absolutely inappropriate, a tremendous breach of etiquette that could only barely be ascribed to Jiang Fengmian’s emotional state rather than a deliberate desire to intimidate.

Nie Mingjue kept his back straight despite the pressure. No one would blame him for faltering, not even his sect elders; the pressure was immense, and he was in the end only sixteen years old, his body not yet fully formed or even fully grown despite him already being taller than Jiang Fengmian –

But he had his pride. His pride, and Baxia, and the Nie sabers did not bend for anyone.

“Sect Leader Jiang,” he said, allowing his rage into his voice. “Control yourself, or you will not see him at all.”

Jiang Fengmian closed his eyes briefly, recalling his power; there was a hint of apology on his features when he opened them again – perhaps it really had been a mistake. Either way, it didn’t matter.

“Do you know what that sort of pressure can do to someone who’s not yet of age?” Nie Mingjue demanded, crossing his arms. “If Wei Ying was harmed because of you –”

“I would never hurt Wei Ying! Or any other child!”

“Perhaps,” Nie Mingjue said, omitting to mention that by some measures he already had. “Perhaps not, if he refused you; you’re not exactly demonstrating dignity in the face of being told ‘no’ right now.”

Jiang Fengmian’s eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t say anything – he had, in fact, been intolerably rude. He took a deep breath, calming himself forcefully, and then focused on Nie Mingjue.

“His father was my closest friend,” he said, and there was a touch of real pain in his voice. “His mother was very dear to me. I only wish what’s best for him. If he comes back with me, I would make him a direct disciple –”

“So will I,” Nie Mingjue said.

That got a reaction out of Jiang Fengmian beyond anger and selfishness.

“A direct disciple of your Nie clan?” he asked, clearly shocked. “But your clan – there’s only you and your brother in the main line!”

“I’m aware.”

“You don’t seriously mean that you would risk the inheritance of your sect –”

“I have already announced it to my sect,” Nie Mingjue said. “Three weeks ago. If what you want is what’s best for him…other than stories of his parents, which you could give him without taking him away, is there anything else you can find lacking and insufficient in my Nie sect?”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Jiang Fengmian said, suddenly belatedly cautious.

“You did,” Nie Mingjue said flatly. “You persist in treating me as a child when I am a sect leader, the same as you. I have told you that the answer is no, and that the answer will remain no. You are in Qinghe, Sect Leader Jiang; if you’re going to insult me to my face, I suggest you pick better ground.”

Jiang Fengmian bit his lip and looked down. “You will not let me take him.”

“I will not,” Nie Mingjue agreed. And then, because Wei Ying really did deserve to know his parents, he added, “But I would be willing to consider something else.”

Jiang Fengmian looked up. “What do you mean?”

Nie Mingjue shrugged, having just thought of the idea himself. “You have children around his age, don’t you? Send them to the Unclean Realm for a season, and I’ll send Wei Ying and my brother to the Lotus Pier for another season in return – it’s not an uncommon arrangement to build relationships between sects.”

An extremely old-fashioned and out-of-date one – nowadays, heirs would only go for long-term visits if there was a real reason to go, like Teacher Lan’s lessons; even the Lan sect, which was close allies to the Nie, would only come to visit for a few weeks.

But it was something he could offer. Something that would make clear to Wei Ying that he wasn’t being abandoned or given away or sold; with Nie Huaisang by his side, he would always remember that he was a part of the Nie sect first and foremost, and get some good experience in the world besides.

“I would like that,” Jiang Fengmian said slowly. “Yes – I would like that a great deal.”

“We’ll work out the details, then,” Nie Mingjue said. The sooner this meeting was over, the better; he wanted to go scream and hit something. “Is there anything else?”

“One more thing.”

Scream. And hit things. Many, many things.

“Yes?”

“You call him Wei Ying,” Jiang Fengmian said. “Have you thought of a courtesy name for him yet?”

He had offered the man an inch and he was trying to take a mile, but Nie Mingjue could see the desperate hope on his face, the need for him to leave some mark of the Jiang sect on Wei Ying – to honor his parents’ legacy or to make up for having failed them, it didn’t matter which.

Perhaps this would convince the man to finally drop the issue for good.

“I would be willing to listen to any suggestions you might have,” Nie Mingjue finally allowed, still hedging in case it was something really inappropriate. “What did you have in mind?”

-

“Wei Wuxian has a good ring to it,” Nie Huaisang said thoughtfully once the horrible meeting was finally over and they could creep out of their hiding spot to stretch their legs. It was getting a bit cramped in there. “And I suppose it really was the very least da-ge could do, after having all but told him off to his face – especially since the Jiang clan really is quite powerful. I’m really very proud of da-ge for managing to keep his temper as well as he did; we should do something nice for him in return. Don’t you think?”

He paused for a moment.

When he didn’t receive a response, he frowned. “Wei Ying?”

“Is that what a direct disciple means?” Wei Ying said, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

“What?”

“A direct disciple,” Wei Ying repeated. His face was frozen stiff, maybe from shock or something. “You said it meant I’d be a member of the family.”

“That is what it means.”

“Yes, but you didn’t – you never said – being a direct disciple puts me in line to inherit the Nie sect?”

“Well, yes,” Nie Huaisang said, scratching the back of his head a little. He had no idea why Wei Ying was behaving so strangely. “I mean, the Nie clan runs the Nie sect, and we’re the Nie clan, so joining the Nie clan obviously means – ”

“There’s nothing obvious about it!” Wei Ying exclaimed. “You have cousins! Cousins and aunts and uncles and – there’s so many of them I can barely even keep count –”

“Branch families after many, many years,” Nie Huaisang said with a shrug. “But Qinghe Nie doesn’t make everyone with a drop of blood in them a direct disciple; you have to be part of the main family for that.”

“But…!”

“But what?”

“It’s your sect,” Wei Ying said. “My surname isn’t even Nie!”

“Well, first off, stop assuming you’re going to inherit the sect because that requires both my brother and I to be dead,” Nie Huaisang said. “Which we have no current plans to be. Secondly, if you did end up as the only direct disciple left, you’d be required to marry in with one of the cousins and have Nie babies before you were allowed to actually be sect leader. So for the sake of your future marriage, you have to keep us alive –”

Wei Ying grabbed him into a hug.

“Thank you,” he said, and Nie Huaisang very nobly decided not to complain about how his tears and snot were getting his very nice robes all wet. “I don’t know why you want me, but you do, and – thank you.”

“Of course we want you, you’re great,” Nie Huaisang said, delicately patting Wei Ying on the back. “Look at you, not just one sect wanting you, there are two fighting over you; how many people can say that…?”

“He wants my parents, not me,” Wei Ying said. “If I went there, he’d love me for them, and if I didn’t have anyone else, that’d be good enough – but da-ge picked me for no reason at all, and you grabbed onto me just because –”

“I mean, I did have some ulterior motives, I do so much less saber training now that you’re here –”

“Just accept the compliment.”

Nie Huaisang grinned. “Okay, fine. Besides, you can finally stop saying you need to pay me back now!”

Wei Ying pulled back and wiped his eyes. “How’s that?”

“Didn’t you hear da-ge? You’ve just gotten me a free vacation to Yunmeng for a whole season! It’s going to be great!”

“I hope so,” Wei Ying said. “We’ll be spending a lot of time with the Jiang sect heirs…I hope they’re as nice as Lan Zhan.”

Nie Huaisang patted him on the shoulder. “Just accept it now, Wei Ying. No one’s ever going to be as perfect as Lan Zhan in your eyes.”

“Shut up. Do you know anything about them?”

“The Jiang sect heirs? There’s a girl and a boy, that’s all I know. They’re too young to be the subjects of gossip, though, so I can’t tell you anything about their likes and dislikes.”

“That’s fine,” Wei Ying said. “I guess we’ll find out when we see them.”

-

“Your dog is wonderful,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Thanks,” Wei Ying said, beaming. He liked the other boy already. “Yours are pretty great, too!”

“They are, aren’t they?” Jiang Cheng said, face lighting up. “This one’s Jasmine, and this one’s Princess, and the last one’s Lovely!”

“Mine’s Xiao Bai! And he’s big enough to be three dogs all together!”

“No kidding! I’ve never seen a dog that big! Why’s he that big?”

“Dunno. Da-ge says he’s a sheepdog from the mountain, and they get really big there.”

“Do they have to fight bears or something? I bet he could fight a bear.”

“Well, maybe if he had to,” Wei Ying said. “Unfortunately, I kind of raised him into a glutton, so now all he wants to do is lie around and eat meat –”

Xiao Bai barked.

“...and he knows the word for ‘meat’.”

“He’s so smart,” Jiang Cheng said, reaching out to rub Xiao Bai behind the ears. “Such a good boy –”

“Please tell me you like something other than dogs,” Nie Huaisang said to Jiang Yanli, who hid a giggle behind her sleeves. “Please. I can already foresee the rest of the season going like this.”

“Well, dogs are very distracting creatures,” she said, her eyes curving into crescents. “They’re warm and furry and all that. But I’d be happy to talk about something else with you…do you like painting?”

“Very much,” Nie Huaisang said, interest piqued at once. “Do you paint?”

“I’m average,” she said with a small shrug. “But I enjoy it. You’re welcome to join me, if you like – I don’t think A-Cheng and Wei Wuxian are going to stop anytime soon.”

“A-Ying can do it for hours all on his own,” Nie Huaisang said mournfully. “He used to be afraid of dogs, you know? I almost miss those days…can we really go paint?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know. We were sent here to learn, weren’t we? I thought it’d be lessons all the time. ‘Go to the training field!’, that sort of thing.”

Jiang Yanli smiled and visibly resisted the urge to pat his head. “Some lessons are taught outside of the training field. Do you know the motto of Yunmeng Jiang?”

“Uh,” Nie Huaisang said. Memorization had never been a strong point. “I mean…”

“It’s ‘attempt the impossible’,” Jiang Yanli told him. “To live bravely, without restraints on your heart.”

“So,” Nie Huaisang said, trying to parse it, “you get to do whatever you want?”

“Not quite,” she laughed. “But we get more freedom to govern ourselves than most, yes. I don’t train too much – I don’t have much talent, you see.”

“Neither do I!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, beaming. “But da-ge’s always pushing me to do better, work harder, try more…”

He trailed off when he saw the wistful, almost envious expression on Jiang Yanli’s face.

“…don’t you like not being forced to cultivate?” he asked, a little hesitant.

“Your brother loves you very much,” Jiang Yanli said. “He only wants what’s best for you. He pushes you because he thinks you can do it.”

Nobody pushed her because nobody believed in her, she meant, and even Nie Huaisang – a devoted good-for-nothing – felt awkward about it.

She didn’t even have a sword.

“Well, don’t worry,” he said, clumsily trying to offer some comfort. “You’re coming to Qinghe next season, aren’t you? You’ll get more than your fill of people pushing you to do things there!”

“I’m sure,” Jiang Yanli said, not sounding as if she believed him at all. “But for the moment – do you want to go paint? And perhaps later we can convince A-Cheng and Wei Wuxian to go shoot kites while we pick lotus seeds.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Nie Huaisang said. “And maybe we can go to the market and see if they have any fans? I have a collection, you know.”

“Well,” Jiang Yanli said, smiling again. “If you have a collection, then of course…”

-

“I’m not sure I’m entirely suited for this, Sect Leader Nie,” Jiang Yanli said, breathing hard.

“I don’t see why not,” Nie Mingjue said, putting Baxia up on his shoulder. “Take a walk around the yard so you don’t get cramped while your heart-rate comes down, then we can start again.”

“Sect Leader Nie, with all due respect, I wasn’t really intending on picking up something new – much less saber, which isn’t even practiced in the Jiang sect.”

“Well, you have to train in something, you didn’t bring your sword, and all we’ve got are sabers,” he pointed out with a shrug. “What else were you planning on doing while you were here?”

Jiang Yanli smiled a little. “Feminine activities?”

Nie Mingjue let his eyes drift over to the nearby field where three of his aunts were pulverizing a training model that looked almost startlingly similar to one of his uncles.

Jiang Yanli coughed as if she could hide the laugh. “I admit I was more in mind of – cooking. Or sewing, or painting…”

“You can do that in your free time,” Nie Mingjue said briskly. “Nie Huaisang sang your praises in every one of his letters; the least I can do to repay you is making sure you get the full benefit of your time here. Consider it a gift.”

Jiang Yanli did not seem especially pleased by the gift. Her face did exactly the same sort of ‘thanks I hate it’ twist as Nie Huaisang’s.

He wondered idly what excuse she was going to try next. She might not realize it yet, but she wasn’t going to have any more luck than Nie Huaisang had ever had.

“Sect Leader Nie…don’t you think I’m too old for this?”

He stared at her. “You’re joking.”

“Most sword cultivators start in their childhood –”

“You’re fourteen.”

“It’s more difficult to pick things up once you get above ten,” she said with a shrug. “There’s nothing to do about it –”

“Pick a skill you’re good at,” he said. “Any skill, and teach it to me.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“You’re not that much younger than me, and I can still pick up new things,” Nie Mingjue said. “You teach me a skill, and I’ll teach you one, and that way we’ll be fair – and if I really can’t pick up yours and you really can’t pick up mine, then, and only then, will I admit that you have a point about our ages.”

Jiang Yanli still seemed uncertain, although she also looked somewhat intrigued. “Sect Leader Nie…what’s the point?”

“What’s the point of what? Of cultivating? You’re a cultivator, aren’t you? Isn’t that point enough?”

“I’m not going to ever be an outstanding cultivator,” she pointed out. “I’m going to be someone’s wife, someone’s mother –”

“We’re literally cultivating against the heavens,” Nie Mingjue interrupted her. “Aren’t you Jiang sect people supposed to attempt the impossible? You can be someone else’s and still be yourself.”

He’d never been very good with words, retreating when possible into silence, but something about what he’d said left a mark.

“Very well,” Jiang Yanli said, and raised the practice saber she’d already adorned with a pink bow – a clear sign that her subconscious had committed to it, even if her mind hadn’t yet caught up. “I’ll take you up on that bet, Sect Leader Nie. Saber, and then you can join me in the kitchen to cook.”

Cooking? Cooking was fine, he could do cooking –

“And we’re not making barbeque.”

…maybe he couldn’t do cooking.

Whatever. That was a problem for later. Nie Mingjue lifted his saber and bared his teeth at her in a grin. “This time,” he said. “Make an effort, will you? I’d like to break a sweat sometime today.”

Her eyes flashed, and she attacked.

-

“You two are going to get along and that’s final,” Wei Wuxian announced, hands on his hips. “Now I’m going to get us some snacks and while I’m going you guys are going to get over yourselves, you hear me?”

He made a show of storming out the door, but the second he was outside he waved his hand furiously to send a passing servant to get the snacks and crept back to listen.

Neither Jiang Cheng nor Lan Zhan was his shidi – that was Nie Huaisang – and of course no one could match his da-ge, but he loved them both very much, so they had to get over this inexplicable rivalry they had.

They had to!

“…very special,” Lan Zhan was saying.

“I know,” Jiang Cheng said. He sounded unusually serious – unlike Lan Zhan, who was always serious (except when he was being teased, in which case he was delightfully flustered). “He’s just – I don’t know. It’s hard to share, you know?”

“En.”

“It’s…let me tell you about my sister.”

Wait, why were they talking about Jiang Yanli? She was great, but not relevant to the issues here.

“When she first came to Qinghe, she got into a bet with Sect Leader Nie over…I don’t even know what. She practiced the saber a lot.  And then she took one of the sabers home, and she kept practicing with it – my parents were pretty confused, but they mostly let her do what she likes, and Mother was pleased that she’d at least started cultivating something even if it was the wrong thing – and…she’s happier now. Like a candle lit for the first time.”

“…I understand,” Lan Zhan said, which, good for him because Wei Wuxian was totally confused. “It was the same for me. The first ray of sunlight in the morning.”

“Yes! Exactly like that.”

They were quiet for a few moments.

“I suppose,” Jiang Cheng finally said, sounding rather begrudging about it, “that sunlight is meant to be shared.”

“En,” Lan Zhan said. “We are all equal under the sun.”

“I could manage equal,” Jiang Cheng said. “As long as we’re the same, yeah? Best friends.”

There was a brief pause, and then – “Best friends,” Lan Zhan echoed. “Agreed.”

Wei Wuxian couldn’t help himself: he burst in through the doors at once. “You can’t be each other’s best friends!” he exclaimed. “You’re my best friends!”

They both looked at him, eerily identical long-suffering expressions on their faces, and then they looked at each other, and then for some reason they both nodded to each other like they were sealing some sort of pact.

“Okay, it’s all decided,” Jiang Cheng said. “We’re all best friends from now on.”

“All of us?” Wei Wuxian said hopefully. “Both of you?”

They nodded.

“And Nie Huaisang, of course,” Wei Wuxian said. “We can’t leave him out! He’s my shidi!”

“We wouldn’t dream of it,” Lan Zhan assured him.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng said. “I guess second place to the Nies isn’t bad, if it’s shared.”

“Xiao Bai,” Lan Zhan said.

“…third?”

“Suibian.”

“Fourth.”

Lan Zhan nodded.

“What are you two even talking about?” Wei Wuxian complained, but not really – he was too happy. He threw himself in between the two of them, wrapping an arm around each one. “I leave you alone for less time than it takes to make a cup of tea and suddenly you’ve got some sort of secret code…”

“Don’t worry, you idiot,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “We still like you the best.”

[elliemarchetti]

Do you plan to update your red queen fanfics anytime soon?

I take the opportunity of this ask to publish the update of Pride and Prejudice AU but apart from this story, which I intend to finish as soon as possible, I am not sure that I will continue the others, as long as I no longer receive feedback and some requests on how to continue. I hope you enjoy this chapter and quench your thirst for new Red Queen fanfiction! @lilyharvord I must also apologize to you for the very long wait, but life has definitely come between me and my interests

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Words: 2450

After breakfast, the girls took a walk in the village to find out if Mr. Maven was back, and to complain about his absence at the ball. He joined them as soon as they entered the city and he and Mr. Thomas took them home, a double advantage, as Mare could spend time with him undisturbed and the opportunity was propitious to present him to her father and mother. Immediately upon returning home, Miss Skonos was delivered a letter which was immediately opened: the envelope contained an elegant sheet of satin filled paper with beautiful, flowing feminine handwriting, which however changed her expression as she read it. It was from Evangeline Samos, and what it contained surprised her greatly, as the whole party had left the Stilts, with no intention of returning. When, later, Mare too was able to read it, she looked at the high-sounding expressions used with all the indifference of suspicion and, although surprised by the rapidity of that departure, she saw nothing really worrying: there was nothing to suggest that their absence would also prevent Mr. Samos from returning, and about the loss of their company, she was convinced that Wren would’ve certainly stopped worrying about it, being able to enjoy his. Sure it was unfortunate that she hadn't been able to see her friends again before they left the countryside, and that none of them were willing to return that winter, but wasn't that the reason why those who could afford it owned two houses?

"But you don't know everything. I'll read you the passage that particularly hurt me, since I don't want to hide anything from you," added her friend, and finally Mare noticed the second sheet she was holding in her hands.

"I am truly convinced that my dear friend, Lady Elane Haven, has no equal in terms of beauty, elegance and quality, and I don't think I'm at fault if I take it for granted that you agree with me. The affection she has inspired me for years is intensified by something even more significant, namely the hope of soon being able to call her my sister-in-law. I don't know if I have ever told you my feelings about it, but I won’t leave without trusting you, and I believe you won’t find them unreasonable. My brother already admires her very much, all her relatives desire this union for her as much as we do, and I don't think I am deceived by the partiality of a sister if I say that Ptolemus is certainly capable of winning the heart of any woman. With all these circumstances in favour of a bond and none that can prevent it, I am perhaps wrong to indulge in the hope of an event that will ensure the happiness of this many people?"

Mare was stunned. So this was the plan, it wasn't a marriage already orchestrated between Miss Samos and the General, but between her friend and her brother! Wren, however, didn’t want to believe her, and her words about the undeniable affection he felt for her seemed to do nothing but further hurt her broken heart as upstream they didn’t think the same about the letter's emissary, for not to mention that she was convinced that she wouldn’t be able to derive any joy from a marriage to a man whose friends and relatives hoped he would marry another woman.

"You must be the one to decide," said Mare, "and if after mature reflection you discover that the pain of doing a rudeness to his sister is greater than the happiness of being his wife, I certainly recommend you to refuse.”

These words brought Wren a smile, as they both knew perfectly well that she wouldn’t hesitate to accept his proposal, but the shadow of the possibility that he wouldn’t return in six months continued to cast a dark shadow on the general mood, to the point that only Diana’s invitation, addressed to both of them, managed to dispel that constant thought a little, replacing it with genuine curiosity, since she and Wren were by no means intimate enough for such a proposal. The answer to all their questions, however, came the next day when the Colonel's daughter told them that she needed female help, and that Mare was too involved to be the only opinion she would hear. From anyone else, this would’ve been an intolerable rudeness, but Mare knew her friend well, and if it was about romance, an assumption that soon turned out to be correct, she didn't want to be wrong and analyzed every single detail to the point of making the least gesture the most rational. The summary of the matter, however, was that Mr. Jesper had woken up early the previous morning, and unannounced, had gone under her window to ask her for a clandestine meeting. Diana accepted, and he, very awkwardly, revealed his interest in her, as well as his intention to marry her, if she accepted. The entire Farley family would’ve been thrilled with the event, but she had asked him for time to think about it, although she was already certain that she wouldn’t come to any conclusion alone, so she had bestowed that invitation. Wren, who was good-natured, greatly appreciated the gesture, and considered it an unspoken compliment to her sensibility and handling of the matter with Mr. Samos, so she quickly got busy, and all the years they had spent politely ignoring each other were recovered within an afternoon. Mare, however, wasn’t so well disposed towards the idea: she appreciated that Diana had asked for more help to reach the most favourable of conclusions, but she would’ve preferred that she had talked about it with her brother, as Shade had been silently courting her for years, and watched her from afar become the only woman he certainly wanted to marry; the prospect that she might want another man had bothered him and not a little, Mare had noticed, although she hadn't said anything, too absorbed in her own problems, but the real possibility that she might decide to marry another man would certainly have prompted him to declare himself, and everyone knew that those two were meant for each other, something that she wanted to remind to her friend.

"Mr. Jesper is smart and pleasant, and it’s certainly inviting for a woman to be the only one who can put a man at ease, not to say reassuring, even if he doesn’t seem like that kind of person. On the other hand, I can already see the blame on your face, Mare, and I want you to remember that your friendship is the thing I care about most in the world and even if I know how you feel, remember I too would behave differently if my perspectives were different, but they’re not, so I’m just asking you to be happy for me if I accept.”

"I will be," Mare assured her, though she wasn't sure she would ever be able to rejoice in her brother's unhappiness, "I just ask you to tell Shade before making any decisions. Do you think you can?"

To the affirmative answer of the other, Mare waited a time that she considered reasonable and took leave, followed by Wren, who asked her if she wanted to be accompanied home, which Mare refused, determined to be left alone with her considerations. It took her time before she could reconcile herself with the idea of ​​such an inappropriate union as she never imagined that, once called to decide, her friend would sacrifice all her best feelings. The next day, Mare was sitting with her mother and sister when Colonel Farley appeared and requested an audience with Mr. Barrow. Terrified of what might have happened, Mare remained tense the entire time they spent in the library, but the tones never rose, and when he left, the Colonel looked as calm as when he arrived. Mare waited a while before reaching her father and asking him what had happened, fearing a reproach for her advice to her friend, which could’ve broken the relationship between the two families, if the situation between Diana and Shade had been from her misunderstood, but he replied very calmly, saying he was happy and satisfied that Miss Farley, whom he had always thought fairly intelligent, wasn’t as foolish as his wife or daughter Gisa. Although this didn’t gave an explicit answer to her question, it reassured Mare, who was convinced that she could get more direct answers once her brother, who had gone out with Bree and Tramy, returned, as she didn’t want to be pressing with Diana, who could also have took offense at how things went the last time they met. At first, Shade seemed a little surprised by all that attention, but when he realized that Mare’s wasn’t just a fervent desire to know some new gossip but real concern, he told her not to worry, and that everything would turn out right in due time, a time that however established a reserve between the two friend that became a silence so heavy that convinced Mare their confidence was stained forever. Furthermore, these gloomy feelings certainly didn’t help Wren's mood, who hadn’t heard from Mr. Samos for a week and hadn’t even received an answer to her letter for his sister. Even Mare was beginning to have fears, not so much that Mr. Samos was indifferent, but that his sister could keep him far. Reluctant as she was to admit such a devastating idea to the happiness of the only friend she had left, and so dishonourable about the constancy of her love, she couldn't help but think about it often. The united efforts of two insensitive women and a friend so influential, favoured by the charm and amusement of Archeon, might’ve proved to be too much, so she feared, for strength of his affection. As for Wren, her anxiety about that uncertainty was, of course, more painful than Mare's, but whatever she felt she just wanted to hide it, and therefore between her and her friend there were never any allusions to that subject. The mother, on the other hand, wasn’t held back by such delicacy and hardly an hour passed without speaking of Mr. Samos, expressing the impatience for his return, or even asking her daughter to admit that if he didn't come back she would feel treated very bad. It took all of Wren's mild steadfastness to endure those attacks with acceptable tranquillity, which diminished, however, upon the arrival of Miss Samos' letter of reply, which removed any doubt about their winter accommodation, they would have settled in the General's residence, and, according to Wren, also regarding the feelings of Mr. Samos towards Lady Haven. Mare paid no attention to those speculations, she hadn’t seen, in fact, any warmth between the two in the time they had spent at the Hall of the Sun, but the fact that Evangeline was so evil she could take pleasure in the idea of undermine her own brother’s happiness, and in such a mean way, filled her with indignation and resentment, equal only to the concern she felt for her friend, who had fallen in love with a man of such lightness of character, a slave to intriguing friend, willing to sacrifice his own happiness at the whim of their desires. If, however, it was only his happiness

that was sacrificed, he could play with it as he wanted, but it was also Wren's that was involved and she believed he should be aware of it. In short, it was a topic that could’ve been thought about for a long time, even if, perhaps, to no avail, but she could do nothing else, and whether Mr. Samos's affection had really died down or had been suffocated by the interference of his friends, whether he had been aware of Wren's feelings or they had escaped his observation, in any case, even if the judgment would’ve been concretely influenced in the different hypotheses, the situation remained the same, and the peace of the girl equally wounded. It was a couple of days after, that Wren found the courage to talk about her feelings with Mare, but in the end, left alone by Mrs. Skonos, after a longer than usual rant on the Hall of the Sun and his owner, she said: "Oh! If my dear mother controlled herself more, she has no idea how much pain her constant considerations about him give me. But I don't want to complain, since it won't last long. He will be forgotten, and we will all be as before."

Mare looked at her friend with affectionate disbelief, but said nothing, although the doubt about those words could be read on her face like lines from an open book. Wren blushed: she knew that this man, who had been so lovable to her, would live forever in her memory, but that was all. If she had something to hope, fear, or even blame him for, the situation would’ve been different, and time would’ve done nothing but make the pain greater, but in that case she had the immediate comfort that it was nothing more than an error of her imagination, which had hurt no one but herself. If she had said those words aloud, Mare would’ve told her she was too good, and she would’ve attributed ethereal adjectives to her sweetness and impartiality, but it wasn't praise for her character that she needed to hear at the moment, only how much she was loved, words that not even her mother seemed willing to give. Even her father considered it only a mere disappointment, and indeed, he seemed inclined to joke about it when the Barrows went to visit them, inciting Mare to have her own heartbreak with Mr. Maven, who seemed a very nice and stylish man. Regarding him, it can be said that his company helped to dispel the melancholy into which the last, unfortunate events had thrown the two friends, who saw him often and had been able to add to the long list of his qualities the total absence of reserve, as the whole story already exposed to Mare soon became public, and everyone was satisfied thinking about how much they had always thought the General unpleasant before coming to knowledge of the whole matter. The only one who could imagine that there could be some extenuating circumstance in the matter was Miss Skonos, whose mild and firm candour always put forward justifications, and insisted on the possibility that there were misunderstandings, but by all the others the General had been labelled like the worst of men.

[happytsukki]

common sense

k. tsukishima

you were a fool. but only for tsukishima. (f! reader)

a/n: ive been reading the manga and chapters 370+ literally have me bawling, im so emotionally attached. also fun fact you cant get your drivers license in japan till you graduate high school,,big rip for (y/n) and her food.

someone with common sense would’ve ran home to avoid the predicted forecast. they would’ve enjoyed safely arriving home without getting a single drop of rain on their uniform. but you lacked common sense.

the steady beat of raindrops hitting the ground accompanied by a strong gust of wind greeted you as you exited the school. you stood waiting, a bright green umbrella painted with purple triceratops in one hand while you rocked back and forth on your heels.

“what are you still doing here?” a voice suddenly asked, snapping you out of your trance. looking up you locked eyes with tsukishima causing a champagne pink hue to creep onto your cheeks.

“oh, i-uh, knew you didn’t have an umbrella, so i figured i would wait for you and we could walk together,” you beamed. tsukishima rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses, but you swore you could see the corners of his lips curl up.

you knew tsukishima. you knew he hated the rain and deep down, he appreciated your kind gesture even if he didn’t say it.

he grabbed the umbrella in your hand and opened it outside the safety of the building. he took two steps into the rain before turning around to realize you were still frozen on the steps of karasuno high. there you were, an idiot shivering from head to toe in the cold weather, yet you still had a smile painted across your face.

“are you gonna just stand there or are you actually coming?” he muttered, his eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion.

“coming!!” you cooed before running down the steps and practicing colliding with him as you pressed closer to him under the tiny umbrella. maybe you should’ve packed a bigger umbrella, but you definitely weren’t complaining.

you walked in unison, small drops falling onto your sweater as you could barely fit under the umbrella with the beanpole. you took notice of one hand tucked away in the warmth of his jacket and the other clutching the umbrella for the two of you. and with your warm gloves, you placed a hand over his.

“sorry, your hand seemed a little cold” you blurted out, slightly afraid he would take his hand away in disgust. but he didn’t, he let you hold his hand. you could finally release the breath you were holding and smiled. rainy days never felt good. the sky may have been dark and gloomy, but being with him felt as if it was another spring day, the sun beaming brightly and the birds chirping.

your walk consisted of asking tsukishima about his volleyball club season and him asking about your classes. you wanted to amuse him, to hear his laugh just once, so you told him the story of how you went to school thinking you math test only to find it was actually an english test, receiving a grade no higher than your age.

and miraculously, he laughed. it was subtle and quiet, but it took away your breath and made your heart race.

tsukishima halted, finally arriving at his home. he glanced up at the sky before catching it slowly transform from a color to a baby blue.

“it stopped raining—“ you cut him off midsentence, grabbing the sides of his face and pulling him closer before you placed a quick peck on his lips.

“bye!” you shouted as you ran away. leaving poor tsukishima standing there, dumbfounded as to why his heart was beating so fast and why his knees turned into complete jelly.

you liked tsukishima. and luckily, he liked you too.

someone with common sense would’ve finished their homework and took advantage of a night free of worry. they would’ve enjoyed a full eight hours of sleep while dreams danced through their mind. but you lacked common sense.

the kitchen clock read 2:18, you were growing impatient waiting for cookies in the oven. before your crazy attempt to make lunches and treats for the entire karasuno team, you studied for your history test and finished a 10-page essay due the next day.

with your apron stained with all sorts of condiments and food, you glanced at the pile of bento boxes placed on your dining table. each decorated with a name of every player on karasuno’s mens volleyball club, of course including the cutest managers and best coaches.

the lunch box on top, reading my tsukki, my moon made with extra love and care for you boyfriend.

tomorrow was the miyagi prefectural qualifiers and as much as you wanted to be there, you had school. you longed to be in the crowds, screaming for tsukki and karasuno at the top of your lungs. so of course, you felt guilty for not being able to give your support. an alternative? food.

beep beep. the timer of the oven finally went off and you breathed a sigh of relief. you weren’t sure how long you could keep your eyelids open. your tiredness must’ve gotten to your head because without a second thought you opened the oven and reached for the scorching pan.

you spewed a variety of curses quietly in an attempt to not wake your parents, but the pain was intolerable. after taking the cookies out with the opposite hand, throwing them in a container and trying to type out ‘how to deal with burns’ with your pinky while one hand held ice (not a good idea) to the burn— you fell asleep on the couch.

not even 3 hours later, you woke up. oh the things i do for this boy. you shook your head, a smile creeping onto your face just thinking about him. you quickly throw on a hoodie and carefully place the food into a basket attached to your bike.

the sun had barely come up, just peeking from the horizon. it was way too early. riding your bike to karasuno while you rubbed your eyes constantly and yawned nonstop was a challenge. you almost tipped over several times. but once you arrived you were greeted by a horde of “hey it’s y/n!!” but the only thing you could really hear was “y/n what are you doing here?”

“well, good morning to you too, tsukki,” you chirped, taking the food out of your basket and carefully distributing it to everyone.

“wow y/n, you really didn’t have to do this.” daichi said. “but this does look amazing.” sugawara butt in, admiring the cute design. “y/n you’re the best, seriously!!” praised hinata, already shoving a small bite into his mouth for a quick ‘taste.’

when you handed tsukki his, confusion and worry came across his face. “but— look at you y/n. you look terrible.” he spat, reaching over to inspect your face. he titled your chin up and pulled your eyes wide.

“is that what you tell your girlfriend after she spent all night to make you lunch?” you pouted, slightly hurt from how he reacted.

“i think y/n looks pretty, like always.” yamaguchi gushed from afar.

“shut up yamaguchi.” “sorry tsukki!!”

“but you know thats not what i meant. i’m just worried about, you look like you haven’t sleep at all.” he shook his head.

“hey! technically i slept for 3 hours.” you argued, earning a signature tsukishima eye roll from the man himself.

“you’re an idiot, y/n. but thank you.” he muttered and placed a kiss on your forehead. suddenly, coach ukai cut in and yelled for everyone to get in the van. groaning, tsukki squeezed you into a hug.

“sorry i can’t be there, but win for me and i’ll be there next match. i promise” you pouted, adding an extra boost of encouragement for tsukishima. these days, you’d noticed how passionate he’d become about the sport and no words could describe your happiness over this.

after waving bye to the team and wishing them the best of luck, you stood alone in the parking lot. happy and excited for what was to come for the karasuno boys volleyball club. but stupid for thinking you could make it through the rest of your day on the mere 3 hours of sleep.

you were an idiot— a fool, perhaps.

someone might as well hand you a jester hat and shoes, bells included, of course. because you were a fool, for tsukishima kei only.

someone with common sense would’ve followed the sign saying “only players allowed on court.” they would’ve yelled praises of encouragement from the stands and just sent a text. but you lacked common sense.

as soon as you saw red liquid ooze from tsukishima’s hand, you hoped out of your seat and grabbed your belongings without hesitation. oh no. your heart sunk and before yachi could even try to calm you down you were already running.

past the crowds and down the stairs leading to the court. you sprinted towards the karasuno team, completely ignoring the officials yelling at you.

you gently pushed through tsukishima’s teammates and an angry expression reached your face once you met eyes with the boy.

“tsukishima kei, are you stupid?” you cursued at him. his face turns a slight pink as his teammates snicker at your typical girlfriend antics. meanwhile, several tournament officials walked over to check on tsukishima’s condition and kick you off the court since you weren’t a player. but you didn’t care. you took his hurt hand into yours, putting your face closer to examine the extent of his injury.

he winced in pain causing your anger to melt away. “you almost gave me a heart attack, you have no idea how worried i was up th-“ you blab on before tsukishima reassures you.

“y/n i’m still breathing, right? you care about me that much huh?” tsukishima smirked as he tried to hide the pain he felt in his right hand.

“okay lovebirds, why don’t you go to the medical office together and get it checked out? we’re going to need you back on the court, tsukishima.” coach ukai quickly sends the two of you away in hopes of him returning by the fifth set.

akiteru and yachi anxiously follow as you and tsukishima rush to the medical office. they wait outside and the doctor tells you two that only his pinky is discolated and the rest of his fingers are fine, so he can still return but he has to wait for the bleeding to stop. the doctor excuses himself to get more bandages, leaving the two of you alone.

you stand up from your seat to stand in front of tsukishima. his face is serious, clearly still fixated on the game still going on at the moment. you wanted to give him peace but you couldn’t hold in how proud you were.

you go on to explain how amazed you were. “and when you jumped up to block, i knew ushijima had no chance— then BOOM! his spike goes straight down into the floor. i think i broke yachi’s eardums with my screaming. not to mention how hot you looked out there like what the hell??” you gushed, making tsukishima smile amidst his pain.

he pulled you in closer and wrapped his long arms around your torso, tucking his face into the comfort of your neck. like muscle memory, your hand finds its way to his back and began to rub circles.

“you’re really sweaty, tsukki. its kinda gross.” you whisper into his hear making him click his tongue in response. but despite the perspiration dripping down his back, you honestly didn’t mind.

tsukishima pulls away, his eyes wander around your face. his breath hitching at your every feature, especially at how your eyes possessed a unique twinkle that didn’t just resemble stars but the entire galaxy. then he remembers the day he fell in love with you, that day you walked home together in the rain.

“god y/n, you’re crazy you know that, right? but i love you.” he chuckles. “i know.” you proudly state while you try to hide the fact that your heart was physically hurting from how fast it was beating. “and i-“ you sprinkle a dozen kisses all over tsukishima’s face. one for eveything you loved about him.” love you too, kei” you say before pressing your swollen lips against his.

“now go out there and beat shiratorizawa’s ass!”

and that’s exactly what he does.

[designsfromtime]

Is the Customer Always Right?

If anything, I am guileless when it comes to offering all ya’ll a behind the scenes peek at what a “day in the life” of a historical costumer can offer. Sometimes I worry about coming off as ungrateful when I share a problematic situation, but I believe being honest allows me to embrace my humanity, and gives you all permission to do the same. It looks like fun creating all these gorgeous costumes, and it is! - - but there is an unfortunate ugly side to owning your own business: Dealing with entitled and difficult customers. 

My career has taken many twists and turns over the last two or three decades. Before I retired in 2012 at 52 and began designing costumes full-time, I was a medical transcriptionist. I owned my own transcription service as well as working for a huge opthomalogical practice back in California. As such, I have taken many, many training seminars in customer service. It’s been drilled into my head that for every one person who is dissatisfied they will tell ten more people. 

With those statistics in mind, I have endeavored to focus on customer service both in my tenure as a medical transcriptionist, as well as today in my costuming business. But the fact of the matter is that not every client will be a good fit for your particular business or your personality, but I do feel somehow I have failed  clients even when they become overly demanding and, dare I say, self-centered, and I have to cut them loose. 

Look, I get it! Plunking down 2K for an entire ensemble is a HUGE investment for any client! I don’t take any of my clients for granted - ever.  I endeavor to give each client equally of my time and attention. As a general rule, I am extremely conscientious about responding quickly to messages and inquiries. I go to great lengths to explain my process and educate about cut, textiles, and construction of historical clothing and lay out what they can expect, even though I find myself repeating the same spiel over and over. 

I’ve mentioned this several times before, but I have heard the horror stories from both clients and cast mates: costumers (even those touted as scions in the costuming forums) taking a client’s money and receiving their fabrics, only to ghost on them and not respond when the client tries to get them to honor the commission and actually MAKE the gown they paid for, or they do not respond to the client’s requests when asked to refund the money AND return their fabrics only to find this same “costumer” has not only ignored them but used THEIR fabrics for a gown which they put up for sale on Ebay. Another nightmare story is about some of the vendors on Etsy who promise to ship a gown by a certain due date, take the client’s money and when that date comes and goes and the client contacts them they LIE and say, “It’s in the mail!” - Only to learn that they haven’t even finished it! Worse, when the gown arrives it started falling apart the first weekend they wore it at faire and she paid $600 for it! Then there is the account of a vendor in the Ukraine who ran out of velvet to finish a client’s Italian gown and rather than waiting and reordering the fabric, they made the gown but SCRIMPED on the fullness of the skirt and shipped it as is without consulting the client. In THOSE situations I would agree that the customer is RIGHT. I haven’t found myself in the same situations as these “costumers” because I would NEVER treat a client with such disregard - but I have found myself in a nightmare scenario more than once that involves the client becoming difficult for no justifiable reason.

I’ve been fortunate that in the seven years since opening my studio here in WA I have only had FIVE clients who made me want to pound my fist against my computer screen and question why I am in this business. Yes, they were that frustrating!  One of those instances I wrote about in a post called “When It All Goes South” I’ll spare you the details of the other four, but usually the common denominator has been that they didn’t respect my time and my busy schedule, or the efforts I made in the consultation process. That sounds very benign, but a to relate a situation that happened this week wherein I spent 1.5 months exchanging 70+ detailed and lengthy messages, and provided them with dozens, and dozens and DOZENS of fabric options and they kept asking for more, and more, hoping that one of them will fall into the Goldilocks zone, it became frustrating. We hadn’t even gotten half way through the consult process because the client was stalled on fabrics. I didn’t mention the fact that after she paid her deposit she changed the style of the gown multiple times. *face palm*

You may be reading this and shrugging your shoulders and asking “What’s the problem?” The problem in the case I just described is that choosing fabric is only the FIRST step in the design process, but also I have deadlines imposed by the clients. If they don’t comply I can’t meet those deadlines. Until a client chooses their main fabric I cannot begin to offer any ideas for the overall design aesthetic, nor can I choose a complimentary color for their sleeves and forepart, not to mention the embroidery pattern to be used, or sussing out whether or not they will need a trim that may take up to 4 or 5 months to ship - such as the case of a gold bouillon trim I ordered from India recently which she stated she was interested in using, not to mention it requires 4 to 6 weeks of hand tacking!  The expectation of this client was that I would be an endless fountain of “options” - and because she was investing 2K I should spend as much time as she wanted footering around window shopping for fabrics while her timeline is ticking away. When after a month and a half I began to draw a boundary and tell her I need a decision if she expects me to meet her deadline because there is a ton more work I need to do on her consult, she felt I wasn’t giving her ENOUGH of my time and stated that because I was pressed on time for current engagements I could not offer any additional efforts to her as a client.  This, after spending MORE time than is usual with this client, I am to blame?  

I learned from an extremely difficult client in 2018 not to allow a bad situation to malinger and hope for the best. In that particular case it went from BAD to WORSE, and I had to dig in my heels and refuse to bend to her ever growing ridiculous demands. If I cannot work with a client in the consult phase, and I’m pretty damn patient ya’ll, then I have learned the actual construction process will only unravel further. 

As a side note, normally by the time I’ve exchanged two dozen messages with a client, I have their fabric sorted, and I’ve sourced a complimentary color for their sleeves and forepart, found their trim and/or the embroidery pattern, sketched their gown, and presented them with a design board.  Sooooo. . . I offered this particular woman a refund on her “non-refundable” deposit minus my consultation fee of $100 for the hours and hours and HOURS of research I spent over that 1.5 months offering her more and more options to consider. She was pissed that I was unwilling to allow her to take months to decide, and no amount of “explaining” the urgency or my time constraints seemed to sink in. No matter what I said she is convinced that “I” was the problem. 

So, is that situation a failure on my part? Should I be willing to set aside another client’s commission to cater to this woman’s demands? What’s more, is the customer ALWAYS right? 

There is an oft-quoted catchphrase in the business world that states: “the customer is always right.” I’ve heard that in many training seminars. Lalana showed me  comic wherein it stated “The Costumer is always right.” I laughed, but there is a prevalent attitude that WE must meet the customers’ needs even if it means we often go to ridiculous extents to please them. However, treating customers like they are always right can be self-destructive for entrepreneurs like myself and here’s why.

In an article by “Entrepreneur” they offer FIVE reasons why the customer is NOT always right and why: 

1. Businesses Have Limited Resources

Entrepreneurs like myself are not omnipotent, neither are employees - or in my case, my assistant Lalana. Most businesses, especially the fledgling ones, operate with limited resources including limited time, funds, and energy. Every business experiences its share of grudging customers, who, no matter what might be done to satisfy their needs, will continue to complain.

Feeling guilty and culpable for such petulance is actually unwise and it affects your business in a negative way. If the necessary steps have been taken to address the issues of a customer, then a business owner should close the matter and move on.

'Businesses are not dependent on individual buyers. It is actually immature to spend all the energy to satisfy someone who does not intend to be happy. It is important to address the requirements of hundreds and thousands of other regular clients, and also show solidarity with the employees,”

2. It Adds Misery to Employees

Any business will invariably have its share of malicious, rude, snappy consumers. Amongst 50 customers there will at least be 5 who will end up rubbing you the wrong way. Now, reacting to such folk with appeasement and guilt is utter naivete! 

Making employees believe that the customer is always right, is tantamount to making them feel dejected. Between supporting your employees and taking sides with an intolerable, enraged customer, it is best to choose the former (the employee). Customers must get this message that though they are important they are NOT indispensable, while supporting employees always pays extra dividends.

"With constant support from the owners comes a sense of loyalty amongst the employees who then provide better service to customers. It's axiomatic that happy employees always go an extra mile to make customers happy." 

3. Customers Are Not Omniscient

The creator of a business and the team that works with him know best about the product or service they offer. But customers are often upset because the products don't function the way they want them to - or in the case of my costuming business, they may have expectations around how much time I am able to spend in a consultation, or that through no fault of our own we cannot accommodate their specific vision they have of a particular gown. In the recent experience, the client kept asking for color combinations that are not available in the fabrics she insisted upon. All I can do is offer an alternative and try to compromise by offering options. But the attitude that a client knows best leads to an expectation that I be willing to go to any extent when they demand unrealistic or even ludicrous things.

Often customers will try to establish that they know better and try to share opinions or advice on how a product should look or work. Irrespective of the sector of the business, it is risky to give customers the liberty to think they cannot be wrong. 

The key is to establish with customers, in a very amicable way, that the maker of the product is the final authority - In my case that would be ME. I go to great lengths to educate customers on my products and service in order to help them understand my expertise or why I use a certain procedure. I won’t take on a project that I am not passionate about, but more especially when my knowledge is discounted and they wish me to create something that doesn’t fit into my design aesthetic I will decline the order because there needs to be a state of sympatico between designer and customer. 

4. It Pits Management Against Employees

The message that the customer is always right, is demoralizing, and results in bitterness against management and indicates that the organization favours the customers more than the workforce. In reality, taking  the side of the employees generates happier customers because your employee, or yourself, will have a more positive attitude. 

5. You Don't Want Every Customer

Not all customers are indispensable and businesses must accept that. It is better to let go of a persistently complaining and abusive customer who only end up creating stress amongst the employees (or myself). This is irrespective of the amount the customer pays for your product.

Disgruntled customers can wear away your spirit, involve a very high quantity of resources, and add to your stress levels. It is sometimes sensible to lose a customer for protecting the company and its workforce.

"To stay in business for a long time, entrepreneurs need to avoid unreasonably disgruntled customers. Getting rid of bad customers might cost a little profit, but it's healthier in the long-term goals of the business,"

The full article can be found here: https://www.entrepreneur.com/article/308548

While these “talking points” are focused on the Management versus Employee relationships, they are valid across the board for a small business owner whether or not you have employees. All of the angst and frustration and demoralization felt by employees or managers who are forced to capitulate to an over-demanding or self-centered and entitled customer is just as keenly felt by me (the owner). It puts me in a grumpy negative head space and it effects my attitude in the studio, which in turn affects Lalana who has to put up with my grumpy ass, and wears down my energy to the extent it affects my usual generosity to the rest of my clients. 2K in commissions just isn’t worth the hassle!   

So, while I’m still working through the guilt and the regret of having to cut loose a client as I did this week, I’m learning that my work will speak for itself, and for every ONE client I have a negative experience, I have MORE who actually appreciate me and are reasonable enough to understand I have deadlines and they are 50% responsible for the success of their commission. I may not be in a place of full acceptance that I could not have made this particular client happy, but I feel justified in drawing a boundary that just because a client spends 2K in my store, it does not give them permission to behave like an entitled premadonna. 

[aurmgoldau]

The Fox and the Cat - pt 1

Li had known Anya for quite some time now.

They met for the first time when Mei brought Li to stay in Beacon. Around last year summer holiday, Li noticed that Anya often dropped by her house, usually meeting with Li’s mother. Li wasn’t really sure what business did Anya have, but today Li thought she finally had an idea about it.

“You work … part-time with Mom?” Li repeated, wasn’t sure she heard it right. “What kind of work?”

“Checking places, gathering some information, meeting people. Nothing big,” Anya replied. She leaned on the ferry ship railing, enjoying the wind. They were on their way from Patch Island to Vale City.

Nothing big.

Li, personally, thought Anya was a good person. Mei, however, had told Li that Anya was prone to dishonesty and trickery, though Mei didn’t directly called her a liar or such. Sometimes, Mei even described Anya’s trick with … a hint of praise. Li wasn’t really sure how to say it. It was positive, that was the least she could be sure of.

Mei also ranted a lot about being teased by her own partner. On the other hand, Li never received such treatment from Anya (it was Mei who sometimes teased Li).

So far, Li still believed that Anya was a good person. That might change. Maybe. Especially after Mom told Li to keep Anya out of trouble before they left Patch Island half an hour ago.

“Mei constantly complains about your height, by the way.” Anya grinned. “I’ve seen you a couple times before, so I’m not really surprised, but that’s a pretty extreme growth spurt.”

“Something … happened,” Li mumbled.

“Something that made you skipped school almost the whole last semester?”

“Yeah. I got myself injured a lot. Fractured or broken bones. I couldn’t practice anything physical.” Li frowned. “I was afraid I can’t get normal again. I don’t want to spend my life breaking a bone or two everyday ….”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be awful. But it’s alright now, right?”

Li nodded. “I outmatched Yang five out of seven sparrings. Usually it’s three out of seven.”

“Oh, that’s awesome!”

***

Their destination today was Vale��s Industrial District.

Li wasn’t familiar with the area, but Anya seemed confident with her knowledge regarding the place.

“What are we going to do there?” Li followed Anya closely.

This specific area they were going to go had sustained a massive damage during an accident known as “The Fall of Beacon” several years ago. The rebuilding process took quite a long time because they need to push back Grimm creatures who invaded Vale. The good news was most area had been freed of Grimms now.

The bad news was some people used the area for shady business.

At least that was what Li heard.

“I’m going to visit a place called ‘Amazon’s Den’,” Anya said. “It’s a bar, to put it simple. But you know you’re not supposed to establish a bar in a place like that.”

Li nodded. Nobody lived there. Who would visit the bar then?

“The police doesn’t do anything?” Li asked.

“I heard they dropped by a few times, but  they haven’t arrested anyone. Assuming we have competent cops, it’s either everything is clean or the bar owner is smart enough to cover things up.”

“It’s Hunters’ job, right? Not student like us ….”

“They might have already listed formal Hunters and police and won’t drop their guard when one of them pay a visit. But students? One from Beacon and one from Mistral? Less suspicious.”

“We’re not supposed to go to a bar …. We’re minors.”

“I’m nineteen since last week.”

Li forgot that Anya was older than Mei.

“You’re not going to start a fight there … right?” Li asked again, totally had no clue what people do in a bar. She heard a lot of fights or brawls happened there.

“Of course, I won’t.” Anya looked confused. “Who give you idea about fights in a bar?”

“Yang warned me before we left ….”

“… Wow. Okay. I see. Mrs. Belladonna trusted me more than her partner to bring you to a bar. That’s an honor.”

“Yang said a lot of bar owners afraid of her.”

“She is banned from Mr. Hei Xiong’s place.”

“Oh.”

They stopped in front of a row of low barricades. There were warning signs, but no authorities personnel around.

“One last question about our job if you want, before we go further,” Anya said. “We won’t discuss it along the way. The walls have ears.”

“Why do you think Mom asked me to tag along with you?”

“Good question. I dunno.”

“You don’t know?” Li was a bit disappointed with the answer.

Anya turned around and looked Li in the eyes.

“One thing you can be sure, I will keep you safe. At all cost.”

Li wasn’t the best when it came to character judgement, but she knew determination when she saw or heard it.

“Um … I can’t handle alcohol.” Li tugged her scarf, nervous. “I’m not going drunk by the smell of it, but … my head is a bit ….”

“I heard that from Mei.” Anya nodded. “Don’t worry. Whenever you don’t feel so good, get out of the place, okay?”

“I’m sorry ….”

Li wasn’t sure how could she be useful for this job.

***

The Amazon’s Den was located in an area called “Cars Graveyard”. It was an area surrounded by stacks of old and unusable cars.

Li worried one of those cars would fall down anytime soon.

“I heard these cars were stacked to barricade the area from Grimms, so I think it won’t crumble easily,” Anya said.

“How do you know I’m thinking about that?”

“I worried about the same thing too in my first visit. Everyone worried about that.”

Li grew uneasy, the moment she saw the bar’s building. They were going to investigate anything wrong with a bar in the middle of abandoned area and Li had zero experience with any sort of investigation. Why didn’t Anya tell her a plan, at least? They were going to enter this place and then … what?

However, since they already arrived, it was too late for Li to ask.

It was around lunch break now and as far as Li knew, people didn’t usually go to a bar during lunchtime. A bar usually packed up in the evening, after work time.

So, finding about six or seven people inside the bar was a bit unexpected for Li. Was she wrong about people didn’t go to a bar during lunchtime?

The next thing stroke odds for Li was the scent in there. Air freshener—lemon scent—dominated the air. As a Faunus, some of Li’s senses were better than humans, one of them was her smelling sense. It wasn’t difficult for her to pick other scents: sweat, iodine liquid (the one to tend scrapes and small cut wounds), and something else Li didn’t recognize except that it was “dusty and white”.

“You okay?” Anya asked.

“Yeah.” Li wheezed. “If there’s alcohol in the air, I can’t smell it at all.”

“Don’t hesitate and just go out if you start to feel dizzy or such, capiche?”

Li nodded.

Anya looked quite confident, despite of the other patrons’ stare toward her. She headed directly to the bar counter and sat down.

“Hi.”

“This is the first time I see you,” the bartender—a tall and muscular woman—said.

“Yeah. A friend told me about this place and since I’ve got nothing to do today, I drop by. Never hurt to try a new place, right?” Anya tapped the chair next to her, signaled Li to sit down.

“Oh, you’re a curious one, aren’t you? Drink?”

“Strawberry Sunrise. She doesn’t drink.” Anya nodded at Li. “Do you mind if she has ice water?”

The bartender smirked. “We also have milk.”

“She’s lactose intolerant.”

“Hmph. No alcohol, no milk, what kind of life do you live?” The bartender shrugged and proceed to prepare the order.

“How did you know I can’t drink milk?” Li whispered.

“Your mom said about it sometime ago.”

“And you remember?” With her grandfather trying really hard to ignore her lactose intolerance in order to make her grow bigger like him (now, Granpa Ghira didn’t have any reason to make a fuss about Li’s height), it felt good to have someone actually remembered about it.

“Uh-huh.” This time, Anya looked baffled. “It’s nothing strange, right?”

“I … Just now it reminds me of Granpa.”

The bartender returned.

“Strawberry Sunrise,” the bartender put a red drink in front of Anya, “and plain, boring, non-alcoholic, ice water.” She put down a glass filled with water and ice cubes in front of Li.

“Take your time,” Anya said to Li without looking. “Don’t chug it down in one gulp.”

Li nodded and sipped her water.

“Are you two Huntresses?” The bartender asked.

“Nah, we still have a long way to become one.” Anya chuckled. “We’re students.”

The bartender squinted her eyes. Her gaze shifted from Anya to Li, back and forth. “I should’ve asked your ID first.”

Anya put her ID card on the table. Li, on the other hand, whimpered.

“You don’t have any, do you?” The bartender shook her head. “Bad kitty.”

“That’s why I asked water for her.” Anya shrugged. She took her ID from the bartender. “Everything’s in order, right? No alcohol for her and I have my ID.”

“Yeah. Cool.” The bartender leaned forward, now looked more curious than suspicious of Anya and Li. “So, a friend told you about this place? A regulars? I might remember his or her name.”

“He probably heard this place from other friends too. Raffles Callworth? Do you know him?”

“Hmm … I think I heard that name before.” The bartender frowned. “But I don’t remember I served anyone with that name.”

“He never visited here, I guess.” Anya took the little umbrella from her glass. “Uncle Raffles is a heavy-drinker, but kinda picky with drinking places. He won’t go to some bar just because it’s a fancy place.”

“Is he your relatives?”

“My mum’s former teammate.”

Li thought she heard the name “Raffles” before. If she wasn’t mistaken, Anya’s mother went to Haven Academy in Mistral, just like Li. So maybe Li overheard the name when she was at school.

“May I ask some questions?” Anya brushed her fingertip on the glass rim.

“Go ahead.”

“Is this bar for women only?”

That was a good question.

Li turned around, looked at the other bar visitors. All of them were women. Li wouldn’t realize it if Anya didn’t ask.

“Nope,” the bartender answered. “We welcome everyone here, but most guests around this time are ladies, yeah.”

“Huntresses?” Li asked. She noticed how most of the visitors were well-built and some of them sported small bruises on their faces.

“Some of them.”

One of the women rose from her chair.

Li quickly averted her gaze and turned around to concentrate to her drink. She had been staring at the woman for too long. Apparently, it caused trouble.

She’s coming. She’s coming. She’s coming. Ochre-had-scolded-me-about-staring-why-I-forgot-about-it-HELP.

The so said woman sat next to Li.

“Whoa, there, Ignitia, what’s the problem—”

“This cat here stared at me like I’m some kind of monkey in a cage.”

Li swallowed. This Ignitia woman reeked of alcohol. Li had to look away, unable to bear the alcohol smell.

And that move was enough to further enrage Ignitia.

“Now listen here!” Ignitia grabbed Li’s shirt, pulled her from chair.

Must-not-start-any-fight-must-not— 

But before Ignitia did anything else that would trigger Li’s defensive response, she stopped. Li could see a cane over her shoulder, its tip was on Ignitia’s neck.

“Hands off.” Anya pushed her cane deeper. “Hands off her. Now.”

Though intoxicated, Ignitia knew the tip of Anya’s cane was on her vital point. She grunted and released Li.

“You’re drunk, Ignitia.” The bartender had left her station and approached the angry patron. “C’mon, let’s cool your head a bit ok—”

The next things happened really fast.

Ignitia grabbed Anya’s cane and proceeded to throw Anya to the other side of the room.

Before Anya fully regained her balance, Ignitia lunged at her. Their physical difference made the scene looked like a gorilla preyed on a fox.

“ANYA!”

Both of them crashed on the big barrels aligned on the wall. One of the barrels was broken and …

… revealed a hidden stairway behind it.

The bar broke into jeers and cheers, with the bartender’s shout mixed in it. Li ignored them and went down the stairs.

The stairway led into an underground room. Worried about Anya, Li didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings. Her priority now was to save Anya from any harm.

Anya managed to put some distance between her and Ignitia. She had enough room to maneuver around and buy some time until she found the chance to escape. But for how long? Ignitia might be drunk, but it didn’t mean she lost her power and skill.

Li intervened in time.

She stood between Ignitia and Anya, blocked Ignitia’s punch. Shadow gauntlet covered Li’s right hand. Now that she knew first hand that Ignitia’s strength was no joke, Li would hit Ignitia with her gauntlet if necessary.

Instead of continuing her attack, Ignitia withdrew a few steps back from Li. She didn’t look less angry. It was something Li’s team leader would call “a calm before the storm”.

“Ignitia! Stop right there or I will ban you from the arena! Forever!”

The bartender, accompanied by three of her bar patrons, surrounded Ignitia and forced her to move away from Anya and Li.

“Are you okay?” Li asked Anya. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stared at her ….”

“Er ….” Anya flinched. “Have you ever dislocated your jaw?”

“Your jaw—?!”

“No, no, it’s not dislocated, dislodged or anything. It just feels funny after she punched me there. By the way,” Anya nodded, “we found the bar’s secret.”

Now that Ignitia didn’t attack anymore (she was still there, arguing and shouting at the bartender and her friends), Li had the chance to take a better look at the place.

The first thing took Li’s attention was wooden fences raised around the place. They were low and certainly not for protection for whatever taking place in the middle of the room. The fences looked like more as a “border”. Hay bales were in front of the fences, added extra space between the area and ….

Now it was all clear for Li.

This was an arena. A fighting arena. Its setup was similar to the barehand sparring grounds at Haven Academy’s dormitory yard: wooden fences, hay bales, though the academy used less hay bales.

“I’m quite sure this is illegal. Semi-illegal, maybe.” Anya nodded at a big blackboard on the wall across the room. “Schedule and betting odds. Huh, that Ignitia secured a lot of winning streaks. She’s the champion, I guess.”

Anya paused. It looked like something crossed her mind.

“If you were up against Ignitia, how confident are you for winning?” Anya asked.

“Huh? Against her …?” Li’s cat ears perked.

“Yup.”

“She’s … drunk. It’s not fair to fight against her now.”

“Fairness is relative. Don’t worry about it.” Anya grinned. “So, how’s the chance?”

“She’s strong. Not really fast.” Li took a deep breath. “Good aiming, not much footwork, tends to be in defense and endure some blows and then counter. With as many powers as possible. I’m taller than her, so if she wants to punch my head, her position will be … awkward and less effective.”

“But your abdomen is vulnerable, then?”

“Yes.” Li stretched her arm forward. “I have longer reach to keep her from getting too close. But she might use the chance when I attack and slip through my defense to counter. If I’m careful enough, I can win. The chance is … uhm, I don’t know the number ….”

“High enough?”

“High enough.”

“Mei didn’t exaggerated when she said you analyzed your opponent like a machine.”

“M-machine? Mei said that???”

Anya’s grin grew wider. “That’s a fantastic skill. Thank you very much. Get ready for a bare hand fighting. I have a plan.”

“W-wait!”

If you know Anya well enough, you would know when she is about to make a prank or come up with unexpected plans. It’s her smile or grin. She always reminds me of a sly fox.

Now Li understood what Mei meant when she told her that.

[ampharos-writes]

Welcome Home

Statement #0160604 Author’s Name: Andrea Roberson Nature of Incident: The death of her childhood friend Apollo Byrne Date and Location: June 21, 2010, Casper, Wyoming, USA Date of Statement: September 19th, 2014

Statement

First of, no, of COURSE that wasn’t his real name. We were from… well, anywhere in Wyoming is “small town” Wyoming, but you get the picture. No, his real name was Ezekiel Jones. Frankly, I don’t think he even really needed to change it in the first place - Zeke Jones is pretty punchy, ZJ are cool initials for an autograph, stuff like that - but I’m pretty sure he hated being reminded of where he came from. Of who he was.

See, Zeke… Apollo, rather, was Mormon by birth. His parents had migrated up from Utah when their fortunes went down and their rent went up, and they’d been living just outside of Casper for something like 30 or 40 years when Apollo came around. The Joneses were simple folk. They had a small farm, just enough to make a living off of, and they kept to themselves. Quiet family. Not like Apollo. He was always loud, in-your-face, always fired up about something-or-other, always looking to live life as largely as he could possibly muster.

I’m not even sure how we became friends, really. We didn’t have that much in common. But there was something so… warm about him, so congenial, so inviting. He was easy to talk to. He was fun. And believe me, fun was hard to come by in Casper, but Apollo found a way. We found a way. For basically the entirety of our school days, we were best friends… and occasionally more than that, though in the end we mutually decided that wasn’t gonna work out.

I still remember the day he left. It was the summer after our senior year of college. I was planning on heading down to Boulder to study Biochem, and Apollo was… well, I don’t think he was quite sure what he wanted to do with his life. He had big dreams, that was for sure, but they were always just that, and I think I always kind of suspected that he would eventually settle down into that farm life he had always hated so much. I didn’t WANT him to, but I thought he would.

He didn’t, though. When he came to our usual meetup spot that day, it was hot enough that I was sweating through my t-shirt, but it was the only time I had seen Apollo look… cold. He didn’t say a word to me, just leaned against the wall and pulled out a cigarette, gaze fixed hard on something in the distance, something only he could see. I didn’t say anything either. We just sat there, frozen in time and space.

Eventually, he did speak, in a hoarse whisper almost too soft for me to hear. “I’m leaving,” he said. “California.”

We both knew he didn’t have the money to go to California. We both knew it didn’t matter. He’d find a way.

He threw his cigarette on the ground, stomped it out, then suddenly pulled me in hard for a hug. I couldn’t say how long it lasted. All I remember was the stillness of the moment, the warmth of the tears running down his cheeks. It was an instant, and it was an eternity.

And then he left. He walked away, and that was the last that I - or anyone - ever saw of Ezekiel Jones.

It certainly wasn’t the end of Apollo Byrne, of course. Everyone knows HIS story by now - one day he’s nobody, the next he’s got his big break in that one indie flick, and suddenly he’s Hollywood’s new heartthrob. A world renowned partier, philanthropist, and flirt - though he always stopped short of actually engaging in romantic contact with another person, so much so that he never even so much as kissed another actress on screen. I always thought that was somewhat odd. So yeah, the story of Apollo Byrne the movie star’s been done to death, but here’s the thing: I’m the only one who knows how it ends. How it [i]really[/i] ends.

ET did an interview with him, right before he… yknow. It was after they wrapped filming on his last flick, some action movie or other. They asked him what he was gonna do between then and the premiere, and he said that he had some things to sort out. That he was going home. I’m not much of an ET watcher, but I happened to have it on in the background the night that it aired. I was living in Denver at the time, and my parents were still in Casper, so it wasn’t that big a hassle to take some time off work and stay with them for a week or two. I told them I wanted to see them, of course, but also that I wanted to catch up with old friends. I didn’t mention Apollo by name. I’m still not sure why.

It was on the morning of my second day in Casper that I realized I didn’t actually know how I was gonna track Apollo down. He had to deal with paparazzi all the time, of course, but he had always been coy about which small town he was really from, so it was unlikely they’d track him this far, which meant I was on my own. Would he go to his parents? Something about the thought made me uneasy. He hadn’t complained about them [i]that[/i] much when we were kids, but he always seemed… disdainful, I think, of them and their lifestyle. Still, it wasn’t like I had any other leads, and I figured maybe they had at least kept in touch to SOME degree.

The fire had already started by the time I got there.

There was a stiff prairie breeze pushing the smoke steadily out into the open country, so it wasn’t a surprise that I was the first one on the scene, but the fact that there was a scene at all sent me into immediate shock. I had only been over here two or three times before, but it was so strongly associated with someone I had once cared so deeply about that to see it going up in flames was like a red-hot poker straight to my gut. I didn’t even think to call 911. I might have dropped my phone, I’m not even sure. All I know is that all of a sudden my legs were moving of their own volition, carrying me towards the roiling inferno, desperate to discover and rescue whoever might be inside.

The heat hit me before I was even inside, like opening an oven to check the readiness of the contents, but growing steadily more persistent, more intolerable, with each step I took towards the house. The acrid stench of smoke filled my nostrils as I slipped through the warped entryway, and I quickly wrapped my shirt around my face. Time was not on my side, and I quickly maneuvered past embers and debris, calling out when I dared, searching for anyone who might be trapped inside. 

Finding nobody on the first floor, I sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time to minimize my chances of stepping on the wrong one in the wrong way. As I rose, so did the temperature, growing hotter than I had previously thought possible. I recall thinking vaguely that the fire must have started on the second floor, but I quickly cleared the thought from my brain. It wasn’t important at the moment. What was important was making sure that whoever was in here (and for some reason, I was convinced that SOMEONE must be in here) would be OK. I moved down the hallway one room at a time, peeking through doorways when I was able, kicking down doors when I was not. Each room I checked was empty, and eventually I found myself face to face with the only unexamined room in the house: the master bedroom at the end of the hall. The doorframe was warped, blackened, and cracking under the pressure, with the interior of the cracks glowing the same angry red as the handle of the door. I ignored it, of course, and kicked it down.

Inside the room stood Apollo Byrne.

He stood shirtless, with his back to me. A thin sheen of sweat covered the tanned flesh, though it was somewhat… less than I would expect, given the conditions. His normally perfectly-coiffed hair was damp. He wasn’t doing anything. He was just… standing there. This was odd, of course, but my brain wasn’t quite processing on that level, and instinct took over as I called out to him, part of me relieved to see him and part of me rapidly panicking as I realized that he was in imminent danger.

He stiffened as he heard me call, and for a moment did nothing, but then he began to turn, and as he did so I was struck by the odd realization that I hadn’t seen him shirtless since high school, even amidst all the action films he had been involved in throughout the years. And when he finally turned around I saw why.

Exactly centered on his stomach, burned into the flesh, were the letters “J. F. F.” Jones Family Farms. His father’s personal brand.

That was, of course, the first thing I noticed. The second thing I noticed was his face. He didn’t look flushed, didn’t look like he had been exerting himself, didn’t expect to look anything like you would expect someone who had been trapped in a house fire to look. His mouth was grinning, his teeth that Hollywood white, unblemished by plaque nor ash nor soot. His eyes were crying, the tears turning to steam on his cheeks.

The third thing I noticed were the charred and blackened corpses at his feet. I didn’t recognize them. Even the greatest medical examiner on the planet wouldn’t have been able to recognize them. But I didn’t have to be able to recognize them to know them.

Apollo was still looking at me as my eyes drifted back up to return his gaze. After a moment, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and took a puff. I hadn’t seen him take out a light.

Still grinning, still crying, he looked me dead in the eye and said, “You should go.” And I did.

I didn’t look back as I walked away from the Jones family homestead, but I did listen. I listened to the crackle of flames as they licked at the aging wood of the well-loved home. I listened to the occasional crash of a piece of the second floor falling to the first, or of a door finally losing the battle against its own frame. I listened to the dull roar of the thick black smoke as it trailed off into the clear blue sky. And I listened to the long, terrible, agonizing scream as for the final time in his life, Apollo burned.

Supplementary Comments

Well this is… interesting, to say the least. Receiving statements about celebrities always is, and it happens more frequently than one would think.

Apollo Byrne, born Ezekiel Jones, famously perished in a fire while visiting his family home in Casper on June 21st 2010, alongside both of his parents. He was an only child, and left behind no romantic partner or children of his own. The fire was discovered late in the day by a USPS driver come to deliver the day’s mail, and by then it was far too late to save the house or anyone inside.

Mrs. Andrea Roberson bears no apparent connection to Mr. Byrne save for their shared origin in Casper. At no point in the immediate aftermath of the events described did she attempt to take her story public, and at no point prior did she confide in anyone about her past relationship with Mr. Byrne. We can assume that a possible exception was her wife, one Shirley Chau, but she passed away in late 2012, apparently after a mishap in the kitchen of the restaurant she worked at.

Ara is attempting to secure permission for us to interview Mrs. Roberson, but doing so may be tricky, as the latter is currently serving a 30 year sentence in the Colorado State Penitentiary after multiple felony arson convictions.

-Amy A. Ampharos, Head Archivist February 21st, 2017

[theroadbuildinggeek]

Why not Trudeau for PM again? Ask Trudeau about these things

Your minister of finance engaged in insider trading – should be a 10 year sentence.

You blew the Asia Pacific deal.

You blew the helicopter deal with the Philippines.

You blew the pipeline deal (he's now trying to save himself from it).

You blew the deal with China.

You blew the deal with Europe.

You invited "irregular" immigration and the taxpayer foots the enormous bill for it.

You alienated the United States – our largest trading partner.

At the G7 you pledged $400 million to Education around the world along with another $180 million to the Global Partnership for Education in Europe. None of it is going to fix our messed up school systems here at home. Meanwhile education costs are skyrocketing for our youth making university a mountain too high for many to climb.

You pledged $241 million to Family Planning around the world including a $20 million donation to the Bill and Hillary Clinton Foundation (because they have integrity!). This all happened while you told vets that they were asking too much.

You pledged $2.65 billion to climate change at the Commonwealth Leaders Summit and now you’re trying to bully the provinces into new taxes to pay for this pledge.

You pledged $300 million to the Rohingya Refugee crisis while we have a refugee crisis of our own flooding into Quebec that you won't address.

You pledged $125 million to Caribbean Reconstruction while our own infrastructure in cities is falling apart.

You pledged $650 million to Sexual and Reproductive health in Haiti and around the globe wanting safer abortions for woman while many women in our own country are left without a family doctor.

You pledged $50 million to Palestine for flood relief when NB had some of the worst flooding in decades this past spring.

You pledged $840 million to Syria for Humanitarian Assistance when half the native reserves in our country don't have clean drinking water.

You gave $10.5 million to a convicted...CONVICTED terrorist in a backroom deal that has lead to another $30.8 million paid out for three others who say they were wrongfully detained.

You spent $4.5 billion on a 65 year old pipeline, and now the courts have ruled it shut down. Now it's back on (at a delay cost of $250 million) - good investment for Canada you said? (And KM uses that money to build a pipeline in Texas)

You pressured Jody Wilson Raybould repeatedly & INAPPROPRIATELY with several different high ranking officials to offer SNC Lavalin a DPA instead of prosecution for repeated & sustained corruption AFTER the former AG had determined they were ineligible for such a deal. You lied about the above having ever taken place.

You replaced Canada’s old F-18s with Australia’s old F-18s.

Your bizarre love of all things Castro.

You imposed tough regulations and taxes on oil from Alberta, Saskatchewan and Newfoundland but not oil from Saudi Arabia.

Every new project has to undergo strict environmental assessments...except cement plants in Quebec.

You said that a proposed pipeline must consider “the intersection of sex and gender with other identity factors” (what does that even mean???)

You think older Canadians should be replaced. How is that moral?

You chase foreign companies (and their investment capital) out of the country like they have the plague.

You chased our WW1 soldiers out of our national anthem... lest we forget.

You continuously use identity politics...then complain about identity politics.

You forgot Alberta was a province.

You called small business owners “tax cheats”.

People voice concern over money spent on illegal immigration and you call them intolerant racists.

We have an equalization program, but you give half of it to one province.

You spent $8 million on a skating rink (vanity project) when Canada's largest skating rink is 500 meters away.

You added tens of billions added to the national debt while lying to Canada's face about it.

You groped a woman and when caught - laughed about it (MacLean's interview) and said she experienced it differently.

You elbowed a female MP while dragging another MP by the arm in a petulant huff.

You renamed Fishermen to "Fisher-folk"

Peoplekind? (international embarrassment)

You got India to invest $250 million in Canada but we have to invest $750 million in India first.

You compared returning ISIS terrorists to Italian immigrants and said they will be an extraordinary powerful voice for Canada.

You let terrorists keep their Canadian citizenship.

You spent $212,234 on artwork for the cover of the 2017 budget report.

You think Canada is 100 years old instead of 150.

You spent upwards to $348,000 on food and alcohol in five flights on our government’s plane. On your G20 trip to Argentina, you spent $103,000 on food and alcohol alone. How is that even possible?

You gave Canadian taxpayers' money to Hamas.

You voice outrage over fake racist attacks and say nothing about real terrorist attacks.

You took 10 vacations in a single year. Who does this??

You spent a little over $1.5 million on the trip to India that did nothing but worsen ties. Plus paid over $17,000 to bring an Indian chef to India to cook Indian cuisine. And to top it off, invited a convicted attempted assassin to diner and posed for pics with him.

And you’re the only PM convicted of ethics violations. (multiple times in fact)

You allegedly destroyed the career of one of Canada’s honest military leaders to cover up possible massive corruption in ship building contracts.

You invited Joshua Boyle, an alleged perpetrator of sexual assault and unlawful confinement for a photoshoot in the Office of The Prime Minister.

You threaten to sue the leader of the opposition then chicken out when you realized that your alleged crimes will be exposed in court.

You offer over $600 million dollars in subsidies to failing mainstream media outlets if they can prove to be trustworthy. You put a union who vows to destroy your opposition in charge of selecting these new “trusted” sources to receive funding. You could school the Russians in election interference.

You pay off your friends to engage in election ads for you and get Elections Canada to pay for it.

$200 million to Loblaws for new refrigerators.

You made public statements of deep admiration for Chinese communism.

You wore preposterous costumes during a state visit to India.

What moral, functioning Canadian human could possible justify voting for you?

[hailcyeon]

hiraeth | 07

Pairing: Jaehwan x Reader Genre: Sci-Fi, Royal AU Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Mild cursing

“It’s nothing, thought I spotted an old friend. He’s still smiling in his usual irritating way, lips stretched wide at a joke you’re not in on.”

Sora’s declaration spurs forth a flurry of activity that results in your standing outside an elegant bistro half an hour later, feeling woefully under-dressed in your faded jeans and sweater. Judging by the trendy gaggle of diners on the outdoor patio, this restaurant is well out of your usual price range. You understandably had the space to bring only so much when fleeing Armistice, but next to Sora in her long skirt and designer boots, you feel rather inadequate. Even Jaehwan, still accompanying you on Hakyeon's orders, cleans up nicely in his dark jeans and button down.

Oblivious to your sartorial distress, Jaehwan has been staring at something behind you over your shoulder for the past five minutes. You spare a glance, somehow both bored and agitated, but it’s just another gaggle of highly fashionable pedestrians on the opposite sidewalk. It’s strange being in the throngs of normal society, people laughing and going about their day, as if you’re not acutely aware of every passing stranger and their likelihood of being under the king’s command.

Sora huffs and checks her phone. “Ugh, it is just like Sanghyuk to keep us waiting this long.”

With the thought of meeting the king still looming over everyone's heads, Hakyeon had declared you needed a new wardrobe to properly fit the part of court mascot and roped Sora into being your guide for the day. Then once Sora realized you hadn’t eaten yet, she insisted on treating you to lunch first, calling up her brother as well on the assumption he would like to see you. From what you gather though, Sanghyuk is a late sleeper, leaving the three of you to wait outside the restaurant for his arrival.

Jaehwan scoffs, hands in pockets and lips quirked in a smile. “He's probably still hungover.”

Sora rolls her eyes. “I know he's still hungover. He threw a pillow at me this morning when I tried to wake him up.”

It's strange to think of the young boy you knew at one time having anything to do with alcohol consumption, but sudden movement in the corner of your eye cuts off any further thought. A jolt of panic runs through your body, but before you can react, Jaehwan pivots to shield you and shoulder checks the encroaching figure, sending him sprawling on the sidewalk. The chatter around you pauses briefly, the diners outside startled into silence.

“What the fuck, Hyuk?” Jaehwan pulls a groaning Sanghyuk up by the hand, both annoyed and amused. “You can't just run at people.”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Sora says, glaring up at her brother.

Holding his head, Sanghyuk stands and grins sheepishly. “I just wanted to surprise the princess. I didn't think you'd go all macho-Sword-man on me.”

“Han Sanghyuk, how many times have I told you that no one likes it when you do that?” Incensed, Sora has her hands on her hips, and you're struck by how much she's channeling her grandmother right now.

Trying to calm your still racing heart, you crane your neck upwards to peer at Sanghyuk. The last time you saw him, he was about shoulder height with you, but apparently, he takes after his giant of a grandfather, considering his current condition.

“Ahh, she doesn't mind,” Sanghyuk says, giving you a proper hug in greeting. “Do you?”

“Just don't do it again,” you respond, awkwardly bent back by his embrace. “What happened to you, Hyogi? I can't ruffle your hair anymore.”

Sanghyuk releases you, grinning, and Jaehwan opens the glass door to the restaurant, ushering your group in.

“Puberty is a magical thing, I'll tell you all about it later,” Jaehwan says, deadpan and holding the door open for you to walk through.

You stick your tongue out at him childishly before you can stop yourself. “We're getting lunch and buying some clothes, why are you here exactly?” You know the answer to that, of course; Hakyeon was very clear that you are not to go anywhere in the city without your “bodyguard”, but you hate feeling babied.

“He can hold the bags for us,” Sora says soothingly. She strides forward to the maître d’ of the restaurant who is busy jotting down reservations in a large tablet.

“I'm sorry, we are booked full through today,” he says as your group approaches without even looking up. “You'll have to call ahead next time.”

Undeterred, Sora smiles. “I'll just need my usual table, Jisoo.”

The man immediately looks up from his task, eyes widening in shocked apology. “Lady Han! I am very sorry, I didn't realize it was you.” He jumps out from behind the desk, bowing a full ninety degrees. “Right this way.”

You haven’t seen this much bowing and scraping since your days at the palace, but you follow Sora and the man anyway to the back of the restaurant where there is a lovely paper screen set up for privacy. Snippets of conversation heard from diners you pass along the way only add to your confusion.

“Ohmygod, don't look now, but the Han Sora just walked in.”

“Holy shit, think we can get a picture? Who's the hottie she's with?”

“Gross, that's her brother.”

“No, the blond one! Next to that frumpy chick.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment and you quicken your pace, desperate to be out of view. The maître d’ eventually leads the group to an elegantly set table toward the very back, set against some more screens and bathed in sun from an overhead skylight. He pulls out a chair for Sora, and Jaehwan, to your surprise, pulls one out for you. At your questioning look, Jaehwan simply flashes a cheeky smile and seats himself to your left. On your right, Sanghyuk immediately grabs a menu to peruse.

“Would you like a wine list, my lady?” says the maître d’ to Sora, once again in a deep bow. “We recently received a shipment of excellent vintage wine from Imsal that I'm sure you would find to your taste.”

“I'll just have a bottle of that then,” Sora responds, sending the man scurrying off in haste.

“A little early for alcohol,” you say, paging through the menu. As everything since your exodus has been, the expensive choices are overwhelming.

“Never too early for alcohol,” Sanghyuk states dryly, nose still stuck in the menu.

“Maybe just a glass of milk for this one,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

“I'm lactose intolerant, actually,” he says smugly as the maître d’ returns with a bottle of wine and an ice bucket.

Uncorking the bottle, Jaehwan takes it upon himself to pour out glasses for everyone. He passes over Sanghyuk’s offered glass, eliciting a furious pout from the offended party.

“You can't be serious.”

“Shut up and drink your milk, Hyogi,” quips Jaehwan, smirking as he pours you a glass.

Sanghyuk flips Jaehwan a finger, making you snort in laughter and Sora sigh.

“Boys,” she says in exasperation. “Can we pretend to be nice and civilized for like, half an hour? That's all I ask. And are you not still hungover?” Sora glares pointedly at Sanghyuk, who has decided to take matters into his own hands by pouring himself a glass.

“Nope!” he responds, popping the ‘p’. “Didn’t even go out last night. Was up until four gaming; Changkyun set our raid real late.” A waiter comes by briefly to take orders, bowing several times in the process. Swirling the wine in his glass, Sanghyuk lays his chin on his hand boredly. “I’ll behave. Wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your adoring fans.”

Sipping your own wine slowly, you look at Sora sitting across the table. “What's this about adoring fans?”

Jaehwan lets out a laugh that he tries, and fails, to cover with a cough. “Wow, you really lived under a rock back in Armistice, huh?”

You glare at him, and Sora flushes slightly. “I didn't really have time for much outside of school and work,” you mutter.

“That's quite alright.” Sora smiles and fiddles with her hair self-consciously. “I act a bit now, that's all.”

Both the boys scoff at that. “She's the kingdom's sweetheart,” Jaehwan supplies. “Can't turn on a screen without seeing Sora.”

“Did you have to take the one voice over gig though?” Sanghyuk complains. “My friends keep trying to get me to play that game, and it looks so cool, but I refuse to play anything where I have to listen to my sister the whole time.”

Sora rolls her eyes in response. “My agent thought it'd be a good idea to engage the younger demographic. Deal with it.”

“The point is,” Jaehwan says, “she's the perfect candidate to teach you how to behave in Capital culture.”

You narrow your eyes, trying hard not to be offended. “Are you saying I don't know how to behave?”

The waiter returns with several trays, distracting Jaehwan from an answer for a moment. “You're prickly,” he responds eventually with a mouth full of pasta. “And abrasive.”

“I am not prickly.” You try not to sound defensive, but you have to admit his words have some truth to them.

“I wasn't done,” Jaehwan says holding up a finger and swallowing heavily. “You freeze in tense situations and you're so out of touch with the kingdom that you didn't realize its most famous celebrity is actually your best friend from childhood.”

He smiles widely as you grit your teeth and glare. “Am I wrong?” he asks with the quirk of an eyebrow.

You stare down at your plate, unwilling to answer. He isn't wrong. No one knows better than you that the task Hakyeon has given you is monumental. You were forced to grow into a different person after leaving the kingdom, and now you're supposed to prance back into court high society like none of it ever occurred.

Remember Hakyeon, is all you can think through your clenched jaw, clenched fists. Remember Hakyeon and remember the debt.

“You're not doing it alone,” Sora says softly from across the table. “Okay? We'll be here to prepare you for everything.”

You sigh, feeling defeated before anything has even happened. “That’s all well and nice, but I’m the one going into the lion’s den.”

“The king’s not going to murder you in broad daylight,” Jaehwan says with the slightest roll of his eyes. “He’s left you alone so far anyway. If he'd wanted to make a move, he would have already.”

This does nothing to help your fears and you glare at him again. “Do you think I would have been allowed to enter this city if the king didn't want me here?” You can't shake the feeling that you're walking right into his hands.

“Well,” Sanghyuk pipes up. “If nothing else, don't worry too much about the court and the general public. A little ass kissing here, a couple photo ops with Sora there, and they'll be eating out of the palm of your hand.”

Sora nods. “Exactly. Stick you in a designer dress and you’ll fit right in. Maybe a haircut too,” she adds as an afterthought.

“What's wrong with my hair?” you ask, frowning. You hadn't cut your hair in a while for lack of time and initiative, but you don't think you look terrible.

“Don't worry,” Sora says waving her hand dismissively. “I'll take care of everything, and when I'm done the tabloids won't know what to do with themselves.” Her grin is meant to be encouraging but it feels like an ominous portent for the rest of the day at your friend's mercy.

As it is, your instincts had the right idea to be frightened.

Shortly after lunch, Sora leads you and Jaehwan on a whirlwind of a shopping spree. Sanghyuk ditches early, citing an urgent appointment with his bed and his utter disinterest in taking part in his sister's madness as reasons.

For once you’re glad to have Hakyeon's unlimited credit line, considering the high-end boutiques and department stores you keep being pulled into. You're continuously forced into fitting rooms, arms laden with clothes Sora wants you to try, each time aided by boutique owners who inevitably end up being huge fans of your friend. Between your impromptu fashion show and the salon where your hair and skin are poked, prodded, and plucked, you feel like you’ve walked through a hurricane of perfume and finery.

Sora excuses herself to check on an order she has coming in at yet another boutique, leaving the two of you to awkwardly wait outside. Jaehwan is buried in various shopping bags, and you're leaning against the brick facade in an attempt to catch your breath. It’s a busy shopping district, pedestrians flooding in and out of the many storefronts and restaurants.

You close your eyes for a moment, head bent in a futile attempt to hide yourself under the giant ferns flanking the boutique doors. No matter how much rest you get, you can’t seem to shake this exhaustion that’s settled into your bones ever since you made the decision to leave Armistice. It’s a strange feeling to be so very tired and at the same time wary of every little bit of your surroundings. The anxiety and fatigue combine to make your insides feel inflamed.

A deep breath later you straighten up and peek up at Jaehwan on the off chance he’s also tired enough to let you leave early, but he’s all furrowed brows and tense shoulders, once again distracted by something across the street. You follow his gaze to the cafe immediately in front of you, confused by the seemingly innocuous scene. There’s a man with close-cropped hair seated outside who feels vaguely familiar, but there are millions of men with buzz cuts in the world and you’re all out of long-lost childhood friends.

“What have you been staring at all day?” It comes out snippier than you intended, and Jaehwan snaps his eyes to yours, an easy smile plastered back on.

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been staring off into space,” you say, suddenly annoyed. “All day.”

“It’s nothing, thought I spotted an old friend.” He’s still smiling in his usual irritating way, lips stretched wide at a joke you’re not in on.

“Some bodyguard,” you scoff, pushing off the wall. Instead you find a seat at a bench a little down the block, ignoring your shadow as best you can while he settles down next to you. Your position gives you an unhindered view of the riverside promenade, the gap in buildings allowing a small breeze to filter through. You absently play with your hair as the wind picks it up, now cut shoulder length and blow-dried straight.

“It looks good,” Jaehwan says suddenly, face peeking out from under the pile of boxes and bags he's holding.

“What?” His voice wrenches your gaze away from the river, where the setting sun is turning the surface of the waters to molten gold.

“Your hair,” he explains. “It looks good, don't worry.”

You blink and look at him, not quite sure how to react. “Thank you?”

Amused, Jaehwan gives you a lopsided smile and copies your tone. “You're welcome?”

You turn away quickly, trying to hide your embarrassment, and caught off guard by his friendliness. You still don't know what to make of the man who has been your constant companion for the past few days. He seems determined to get under your skin, all smiles and jokes, but then his sudden serious moments give you whiplash.

“What's that?” you ask, pointing toward several structures clustered up against the river. Some of the buildings look half-complete, with their steel skeletons stretching up to the open sky, while others look fully functional but nonetheless abandoned. The largest straddles the river, arched towers on each bank meeting in the middle elegantly.

“What’s what?” Jaehwan cranes his neck to look at where you're pointing. “That ugly thing? It was supposed to be a hotel, I think, a whole resort complex type deal. There's always some new construction project going up, but this one ran out of money and stopped building a while ago.”

You nod in understanding. “The city's expanded a lot since I was last here.”

“All the development companies are owned by the king's new magistrates,” he murmurs.

“All of them?”

“Not in name,” he amends. “But it's all the same people if you trace the contracts far back enough. Hakyeon's been trying to fight it, but it's an uphill battle.”

“How is he doing that?” you ask, genuinely curious. You have no idea what your cousin has been up to beyond court politics.

“He's been funneling money to competitors and foreign investors. A lot of business shit I don't fully understand.” Jaehwan shakes his head and grimaces a little. “He's the one that convinced TirTech to open a branch here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And the king just lets him do it?”

Jaehwan's face grows dark for a moment, mind elsewhere. “The king is pretty busy with other things.”

You're about to ask what he thinks the king is up to when Jaehwan suddenly exclaims and shoves the bags off himself.

“Oh! Wait here a second.” He jumps up and makes to walk away, then turns back around. “Do not move, understand?” he says firmly, wagging a finger for good measure.

“Yes sir,” you mock, rolling your eyes.

You watch as he quickly jogs across the street to a food cart on the corner. You're both confused and amused by his sudden change in demeanor as he animatedly points to what you assume is a menu, glancing back every now and again to make sure you're still sitting on the bench. He jogs back a few minutes later with a paper bag in hand.

“Churros!” Jaehwan grins, pulling one out of the bag for you.

You accept the proffered fried stick of dough and take a bite, careful not to dust yourself in sugar in the process. Warm and sweet, the dessert is an immediate mood lifter.

“Did you have a sudden craving?” you ask, half joking.

Jaehwan shakes his head, mouth full of his own churro. “This is the best churro cart in the city. I remember from the last time Sora dragged Hyuk and me this way.”

“What, like you've tried all of them?” you mumble around a mouthful of churro.

“I get around,” Jaehwan says, wiggling his eyebrows at you suggestively.

It's an effort not to inhale dough as you snort in laughter, caught off guard by his silly expression. He seems rather proud of himself, smiling broadly at your laugh. You bite your lips in an attempt to keep a straight face, but your efforts are in vain. With a roll of your eyes you turn away from him, but the laughter has sunken into your face as a contented smile, the omnipresent dread on your shoulders held at bay for the moment.

[silly-nonny-fics-are-for-fandoms]

The second thing at Christmas

The twelve days of Kaminari ships, day 7: Serokami! The title is from Bob Rivers’ ‘The twelve pains of Christmas’

"I get that my quirk is useful for this stuff," Sero said, his face red and twitching in irritation, "But I'm not stringing up the lights alone this year." 

"C'mon, Sero! You're like, made for Christmas!" Kaminari grinned, right next to the taller boy outside their dorms. 

"How?" Sero grumbled, hiding his face in his scarf.

"Switch the first letters of your name and you have Hero Santa."

"I love you for what reason again?" 

"Because I'm an amazing blonde who always manages to shock you with my electric personality?"

"Baaabeee..."

"My electricity lights up your day?"

"Denki!" Sero snickered, "I get it, I get it!"

"There's my smiling boyfriend! Whom I loooooooooveee~" 

"Who's not setting up the lights by himself!"

Kaminari pouted but sighed in defeat. "Fine, but you do have to get the roof. I'll take care of the lights down here, but I've got no way to save myself if I fall from up there."

"Okay," Sero rolled his eyes, "But if I get tangled up in the lights and am hanging off the side of the building again, we're gonna spiderman kiss."

"Cliche, but cool. Deal."

And up Sero went onto the rooftop, his feet clinking against the walls as he climbed up to one of the chimneys, starting at the top and going down from there. It brought a certain song to Kaminari's mind. Kaminari grabbed the first box of the string lights, to line the doorway and the pillars on the front view and the lampposts on the walkway. Sero would have no issues with the mid-pillars on his way back down, but Kaminari was worried about the roof of the first floor, over the inner courtyard. 

Last year, Sero had complained nigh on endlessly about how slick the surface could get, and he was also the one responsible for cleaning it with Todoroki or Bakugo in the winter so he had experience. The snow would melt down and ice over the glass, which left some precarious situations on the table. Sero was supposed to clear it since it would only refreeze if melted and often came back in soaking wet and bruised.

Just as Kaminari had the responsibility of charging people's electronics when they died, Sero had the responsibility to take care of outdoor decoration and maintenance. In the spring, fall, and what little bit of the summer they spent there the burden was shared with Tsuyu. But, as the winter settled in she spent more and more time inside. 

"Hey, be careful up there!" Kaminari yelled up to his boyfriend, six stories above him. 

"I will!" He heard Sero yell back to him, "I could use some power though!"

"Very funny, babe! It'll all connect in the end!"

"I know! I did this last year, don't forget!"

Kaminari rolled his eyes, drastically lowering his volume. "As if I could forget."

He grabbed the ladder which normal people needed to use to gain elevation, just to get to the top of the pillar. As he'd been stringing them up, the lights had turned on just by contact with him. 

By the time he finished with the lower section which he could get to with the ladder, Sero had almost reached the glass courtyard roof.

"I'm gonna go make some hot chocolate, okay?" Kaminai said, not needing to yell up to his boyfriend like an idiot anymore. 

"Remember the almond milk, okay?"

"Yes, I remember! Love you!"

Kaminari descended the ladder and went inside, shedding his coat with a shake.

Some of the other students had congregated into the common room, some glancing his way as he went into the kitchen. He'd once made hot chocolate with regular whole milk and gave it to his boyfriend, and the memory made him shudder. That had been the day he'd found out his boyfriend was lactose intolerant and often forgot to refill his medication.

He'd seen him devour a tub of ice cream and plenty of cookies during the holidays, but all the same, he didn't want the end result. So he put two pots on the stove to heat up, grabbing the chocolate syrup and pouring it in with their respective kinds of milk. The bigger pot had whole milk, and the smaller had almond milk. 

"Denki, babe, you love me!" Ashido said as she passed by the kitchen, "Making enough for us! It's freezing!"

"You're telling me!" Kaminari laughed, stirring the pots as they heated up. He chatted amongst his friends, grabbing a tray and their favorite mugs. Spiderman and Pichu, respectively. As much as he hated going back out into the cold, it was a necessary evil to deliver the hot chocolate to his boyfriend outside. He could only hope they didn't chill before he got any.

Kaminari poured the hot beverages and topped them with marshmallows, getting help in opening the door now he had a tray in his hands.

"Hey, babe! I've got the drinks!" He called, though he did not receive a response.

"Baaaaabbbeee??"

There was a yelp from above him and Kaminari realized. Sero must have been on the glass roof, and yeah. There was what he expected. A few feet away, Sero was hanging upside down, wrapped in multicolor lights which thankfully weren't blinking. And at the perfect height for kissing, if he sat down.

"Hey there, spider Santa." Kaminari chuckled, crossing his legs and sitting down in front of his pouting boyfriend, setting the tray aside.

"I can't believe it happened again!" Sero hissed, his face red from the blood rushing there due to his position.

"Aww, it's not that bad."

"Please help me out of this, Denki." 

"Not yet~!"

"Wh- Oh. Oh yeah!" The grin returned to Sero's face, and Kaminari matched it.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Sero's and feeling the static gathering around them as always happened when they kissed. It wasn't one of their better kisses; in fact, it was quite awkward and made them feel like it was their first kiss all over again.

When they broke, Kaminari started giggling uncontrollably.

"What's so funny?" Sero asked, trying to look but failing epically in his cocoon of lights.

"I- Oh my god. The lights, Sero. I lit them." 

"Holy crap you did! Take a pictu- Nope they're out." 

"Merry Christmas, babe." Kaminari reached up to the lights, watching them illuminate likely the whole outside building. The blonde thought the colors looked good on Sero, and even voiced his opinion as he attempts to untangle the mess of wires. Soon, the raven-haired teen was on the ground with him and the lights were hung, and they admired their work despite the cold.

"Wasn't there supposed to be hot chocolate?" Sero asked, and Kaminari blinked twice before realizing what had been said. He ran over to the tray he'd brought out, groaning at what he found.

"Babe, the hot chocolate froze."

[jocelynscloset]

Cold

Pairing: Kylo Ren x Reader

Word Count: 3,815

Warnings: Just a lil fluff at the end

Summary: Y/N is a prisoner of the First Order, and when Kylo catches General Hux trying to take advantage of her, he saves her and determines she will become his assistant and share his quarters, rather than send her back to her chamber. She believes he’s cold and merciless, with a short temper that frightens her, but he ends up not being what she expected.

Feel free to tell me what you thought/send a request through my ask box

General Hux was starting to bug you. It was harmless at first, just him being the boy that he is. Sly flirting, trying to get a rise out of you, trying desperately to get you to show some return of his affections, but it escalated slowly to a point where you were no longer able to be indifferent about it. That point was marked when the Supreme Leader saw it happening. 

You’d always been under the impression that Kylo Ren was a monster. A cold-blooded killer, a merciless fighter, and an apathetic ruler, but your mind quickly changed. You were brought to the First Order as a prisoner, as per the orders of the Supreme Leader himself. You were previously a prisoner on another planet, and when they overtook that one, they found you. You had to admit, though you were intolerant of the First Order as a whole, it was better to be on their base than to be stuck in the hole you were previously thrown in, on that last dump they called a planet. 

You were treated humanely, though you were surprised by it at first. You got 3 hot meals a day, a bed chamber, you were free to spend your time doing what you please in your quarters, and though the stormtroopers were routinely demeaning and regularly harassed you— especially the male ones— it was much better than you had been used to in your previous planet. Back then, those sexual comments weren’t just talk, they were threats and usually promises. At least here, you felt somewhat safe and physically taken care of. 

Mentally, however, was a different case. You felt out of place. You felt like a fly on the wall, and not in the exciting way. You missed having people you cared about and you missed having a passion or something, anything, to give your energy to. You desperately wanted to do something, have a purpose, have a group of people you did something with.

You began to feel this most strongly about 2 months into your living on the base, and you decided to do something about it. Sure, you were a prisoner, but would they really be upset by you offering your help?

You were in the main hall getting your first meal of the day, and luckily, there weren’t only prisoners. General Hux was also there, and it seemed he’d be walking near you soon. Eventually he did, and you spoke apprehensively to him.

“Sir, may I have a moment of your time?” He looked shocked. You guessed he wasn’t used to prisoners addressing him at all. You expected him to hurt you, but surprisingly, he agreed. Though he seemed irritated at the idea of giving a prisoner any of his attention, he listened to what you had to say, as you offered your help doing whatever the First Order needed and you explained your reasoning to him.

“Well...”

“Y/N. My name is Y/N.” You answered his thoughts.

“Well, Y/N, I’ll agree to this, though it is highly unorthodox, as long as you swear on your life to never divulge this to the Supreme Leader.” You nodded, somewhat surprised that he would so easily trust you to keep a secret, especially one that might get him fired. “And if you ever step out of line, I’ll have you executed. You may be scrumptious looking but there are a million whores in the universe that could replace you as prisoner on this ship.”

You bit back your pride and offense and nodded. “Yes sir.”

“Now, I will give you directions soon enough. Back to the main hall.” You thanked him and complied, and you quickly received orders and a uniform. You were disguised as a helper in the control room, and you were tasked with small, menial tasks, usually ones that took long amounts of time and that nobody else wanted to do, like mending uniforms or filling in when other staff were unable to fulfill duties. This went on smoothly for a few weeks, but General Hux quickly became a little too comfortable with having you there. 

He didn’t feel he owed you the respect he allowed other people in the control room, and this often led to crude or disrespectful comments, often of a sexual nature. He knew he could get away with it, and he did. The other male staff seemed to catch onto this game Hux played, and they soon got comfortable doing the same. You didn’t complain though. At least it was all just talk.

Until it wasn’t.

Hux was doing his usual routine, calling you “whore” and “slut” and “toy” and such, and the other officers joined in, of course, and you had gotten used to it by now, very easily tuning them out. However, that day was different, because it was the first time he actually put his hands on you, and you had the realization that he could very well do what he wanted and suffer little to no consequence. 

You were bent over slightly, wiping down a large table the officers usually sat at during meetings, and you heard him say behind you, “Look at this, all ready for me.” You, naturally, decided it was just him being an asshole, but once you felt his large, cold hands slide onto your hips and pull you backwards until your backside was against his front, you lost all sense of grasp on the situation. When one hand left your hip and pressed against your back between your shoulder blades, pushing your torso flat against the table, you felt your heart drop and you let out a slight whimper in fear and shock. You were afraid, until he was suddenly gone. 

His hands were off of you, you were free to stand upright again, and when you turned around, you saw Hux standing at least 10 feet away.. facing a tall, cloaked figure in a dark metal mask.

“General Hux, I always knew you were slimy but I never thought you were desperate.” The masked figure said, his voice altered by the mask itself.

“S-Supreme L-Leader, she’s only a p-prisoner.” He struggled to get out while the masked figure— apparently the Supreme Leader — had his hand firmly wrapped around the general’s neck and, by the looks of it, was tightening it more and more each second.

“So, you disobeyed me. Went around me, for what, a fucktoy?” General Hux was silent, whether because he was afraid or because he couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t tell. “You’ll face the consequences for this, General.” Hux struggled to nod, and the Supreme Leader let go of his hold on Hux’s neck, causing him to fall to the floor, gasping for breath. 

The tall, still masked man turned to you next. “You.” He seemed even more angry now. “How did you get here?” Your eyes, wide and presumedly filled with fear, scanned the length of the figure before you. He was easily over 6 feet, very muscular it seemed, and while you were intimidated by the mask he wore, you imagined he wore it for a reason. Perhaps he wasn’t as scary as he tried to seem. 

You plucked up the courage to finally open your mouth and you answered his question honestly and without excuses. “I’m a prisoner, from a planet you overtook about 3 and a half months ago. I was useless and bored in my chambers and I offered my help with whatever the officers needed. Cleaning, coffee, notes, those sort of things.” You paused and he was still silent, so you continued. “I asked General Hux gave me tasks to keep me busy.” You had no more to say, and luckily he sensed it and followed up with another question.

“Why was I not informed of this?” He looked to Hux, who was still gasping for breath and massaging his neck, which was sure to have bruises on it the next day. You knew Hux had told you not to tell, but you weren’t particularly feeling indebted to him at that moment. 

“I’m not sure why, Supreme Leader, but he made me promise not to divulge anything to you.” The masked figure seemed a little too quiet. He glanced at Hux again. 

“We’ll finish this later. For now, I’ll take care of your mess.” You then realized what this must mean. You were going back to solitude, back to uselessness, or so you thought. “You, what is your name?” He asked.

“Y/N.” You answered apprehensively. 

“Y/N, you will not be going back to your chambers,” he began. He’s going to kill me, you thought. “No, I’m not going to kill you.” He had read your mind. You’d heard of this being an ability of force-sensitives, but you thought it had just been a myth. “From now until the foreseeable future, you will be my assistant. You will do whatever I ask and without question or complaint. You will stay in my chambers, so that I may keep an eye on you, and you will surrender yourself completely to servitude of me. Understood?” You nodded slowly. You didn’t know this man. You didn’t know what he intended to force you into or what “servitude” meant to him. You may be a prisoner, but you would rather die than be a slave to anyone, especially one that fulfilled their wishes sexually.

“Supreme Leader, that’s very generous.” He said nothing in response and you felt it was as good a time as any to ask him whether or not he intended on making you into a consort, in which case you would ask respectfully to instead return to your chambers. “May I ask you a question?”

“What is it. I don’t have much time and now I must take you to our quarters before I return to my duties.” You nodded and sucked in a breath before continuing.

“Do you intend to use me.. for pleasure?” You paused and you could tell he was waiting for you to say the rest. “I would rather just be returned to my place as a prisoner, sir, if that is what you intend.” He was silent for another moment, and you thought he was going to kill you for being so forthright with him, but he surprised you yet again.

“No. I do not intend to do that. I, unlike General Hux, here, do not need to force myself on women. Nor do I want to.” There was a long silence and you breathed out finally, feeling some relief. Maybe being his assistant wouldn’t be so bad, after all. “Now, come. I will show you where you will be living from now on and we will continue on with my day. Any more questions, now that we’re in the feelings circle?” He finished his statement with a sarcastic cherry on top, and you knew he didn’t want to be pried at anymore, so you just shook your head and let him lead you away from the control room, towards the hallways where the doors to officers’ quarters were located.

At the end of the main hallway, you spotted a large, black steel door, which judging from the way you were being lead directly toward it, you presumed belonged to Kylo. Sure enough, you reached the end of the hallway and once the door had opened to him, he lead you through it. 

“This is my quarters, and I suppose, now yours as well. Do not be mistaken, everything in this place belongs to me, and is strictly off-limits to you. I will arrange for you a separate bed, and you will be allowed the appropriate hygiene products as well as access to the washroom and such.” You nodded, and he decided that was enough information to start with. “Now that you’re all filled in, it’s time to resume my day. You will come with me, and observe.” You nod again, and you both leave the quarters.

A few hours later, close to midnight, you both return to your now shared quarters, both tired after a long day. You had struggled to keep up with him at first. He walked quickly and he asked a surprising amount of you for just starting off. You were exhausted, and you still felt dirty after having the General’s hands on you hours before. 

“Supreme Leader, may I shower now?” He paused, as if he was reading your thoughts, and he replied with a simple ‘yes’. You nodded, thanked him, and retreated into the bathroom to shower. However, you had only gotten your jacket and boots off before realizing you didn’t have any sleep clothes to change into after, so you quietly opened the bathroom door, not wishing to startle him, and peeked out to ask if he knew where you would find some. 

You didn’t expect him to have his mask off, and he didn’t expect you see him without it either. You both were in a bit of a stunned silence for a moment. You took in his features; his sharp bone structure, his deep brown eyes, his dark, fluffy hair, and the strong expressiveness of all of these things put together. He was a lot younger than you had imagined. “What are you doing out here?” Asked in discomfort, a little annoyed and a little flustered, it seemed. You assumed people didn’t see him without his mask often.

“I, um, realized I don’t have any clothing to sleep in.” You told him, now averting your eyes to the grated, metal floor, cold beneath your feet.

“I see. I’ll fetch you some. You just, continue as you were. I’ll leave them on the bed.” You really didn’t want to anger him, but the question crossed your mind and you were a little alarmed. 

“Um, the bed?” You spoke shyly, very afraid that at this point, he’d finally lash out at you.

“Yes, princess.” Sarcasm and annoyance dripped from his tone. “The bed. We don’t have one for you yet, your highness, so tonight I’m doing you the favor of allowing you share mine. Or would you rather sleep on the ground?” You felt the urge to roll your eyes, but you held back. 

“Yes sir, sorry sir.”

“I’m going to get you some supper. Be finished and dressed by the time I get back. You wouldn’t want me walking into anything that would embarrass you.” You did roll your eyes at that, fully expecting him to get angry about it, but he didn’t. He just ignored it and allowed you to return to the bathroom and take your shower. 

15 minute later, you scurried out of the rest room wrapped in a towel with wet hair dripping down your neck and on your chest, and you hoped and prayed that he wouldn’t walk in before you were dressed. Luckily, the nightgown and undergarments he promised were on the bed and you slipped on the clothing quickly. He has yet to return, and you felt more relaxed than before, taking the extra bit of time as an opportunity to explore. You examined the many books on his shelves, the clean, black sheets on his bed, and the blankness of the metal walls. Out of the uniform you were previously wearing, you noticed how cold it was in his quarters, and you wondered if he liked it that way. Perhaps it was because you allegedly sleep better in the cold. That man probably relied heavily on his beauty-rest.

You looked toward the door again, and assumed you still had a few minutes before Kylo would return, so you pulled back his pristine sheets and climbed under them, feeling the softness against your legs and the cushion of his mattress, a stark contrast to the squeaky cot you were used to in your old chambers. You felt yourself melt into the bed, your limbs relaxing and your eyes fluttering shut as you lost yourself in the comfort. However, you didn’t notice yourself drifting, and suddenly the quiet serenity of the moment was shattered. 

He was standing with his arms crossed, a plate of steaming food set on a table near the bed and an eyebrow cocked as he looked down at you sprawled beneath his sheets. Your eyes opened and you felt embarrassment creep into your bones as you scrambled to get up and pull yourself out of the Supreme Leader’s bed. 

“Do you want to try to explain what’s going on here?” He asked monotonously. You stayed silent for a moment, but pushed yourself to answer him. 

“It looked comfortable and I was curious. You said I was sleeping here anyway. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of your absence.” You looked to his eyes for any sign of anger or disbelief, but he seemed very calm. This couldn’t be the Kylo Ren you’d heard so much about. If it was, you would be dead by now.

“Alright.” He said. Your head tilted in confusion. There was no way he was going to let that slide. No way in Hell. “Your food is on the table. I’m going to shower.” You nodded, still shocked that he seemed to not care about what had just happened. He left you to eat your supper, and the only thing you could think about while you did was how wrong you were about him.

He wasn’t necessarily kind, but he wasn’t merciless. He was cold and distant, but he had yet to hurt you in any way. He was, after all, only a man, and all men have their softness, don’t they? You just couldn’t wrap your head around why you, of all people, were exempt from his anger and violence. You were just as much to blame for disobeying and deceiving him as General Hux, yet Hux almost got murdered and you got.. a promotion. You were confused, to say the least, but you didn’t have much time to dwell on it, because soon enough, Kylo exited the bathroom in only a pair of sweatpants, still drying his hair with a towel and looking toward the floor as he approached you. 

You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t astounded by the muscles on that man. His chest and shoulders were broad, his arms much larger-looking without the cloak and such, and his neck seemed wider than her waist. He was.. huge. As least, compared to her. 

“You’re staring.” He said with no intonation. You blushed and looked away for a moment, only turning your attention back to ask him when you’d be going to bed. “Soon. Now would be the time to get ready.” You nodded and scurried to the restroom, quickly brushing your teeth and running a brush through your hair. You looked in the mirror and again, wondered how you got there. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by his deep voice stating your name. “Y/N, you need your rest. Tomorrow will be more hectic than today was.” You sighed and trudged to the side of the bed, which he was already laying in, on his back, the covers only covering his lower half. 

You blushed once more at the thought of crawling into his bed, though you knew nothing would be happening between you. As soon as you were comfortably situated on your designated side of the large bed, probably custom made for his towering height, you began drifting off, your thoughts only occupied by the sound of his light, steady breathing beside you, and the occasional shift from him moving the covers as his body cooled. 

You slept peacefully through the night, and woke up to the sweet silence of morning. However, you also awoke to two strong, pale arms wrapped around your waist, and your breath landing against Kylo’s neck. How you got here, you didn’t know, but your legs were intertwined with his and his chin was resting atop your head. Not that you were complaining. 

He was warm, his skin was smooth, and the rise and fall of his chest against yours was soothing to you. Your eyes fluttered closed as you breathed in the clean scent of his skin mixed with whatever was making his sheets smell like dark chocolate with a hint of mint. You were asleep for another 20 minutes before you felt him stir slightly, removing himself from your grasp and gently resting your limp body against the pillows rather than his shoulder. 

Your eyes opened slowly to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on a shirt and running a hand through his bed-hair. You sat up weakly and he noticed you were now awake.

“Good morning, Supreme Leader.” You squeaked out with your morning voice. He rolled his eyes gently and sighed.

“You know, you should probably just call me Kylo. Not in front of the others, but when we’re alone.” You nodded, rubbing softly at your sleepy eyes and looking at him for directions. “We still have an hour before I’m to arrive at my first meeting for the day. Hux has everything under control until then. You can go back to sleep for now. I’ll wake you when it’s time to get ready.”

You nod and pull the covers back up over your shoulders, squirming to find the area of warmth you were previously snuggled in, but after about 20 seconds of watching you do so, Kylo felt the need to ask if something wrong. “Are you alright?” You huffed slightly and nodded.

“Just cold. Your sheets cool quickly.” You could have sworn you saw him smirk, but before you could process it, that tiny smile was gone. “What do you usually do in the mornings? When you have extra time?” You knew it was always a risk to ask questions, but you didn’t think he had his bearings after his slumber yet, at least not enough to get fully angry.

“I usually sleep.” He spoke plainly, and you felt guilty. You had taken his bed, and after waking up in the position you were in, he probably felt too embarrassed to climb back in. 

“Then sleep. There’s no reason you shouldn’t get some extra rest.” He cocked an eyebrow at you. You knew it was a risk, but you were cold and you would be lying if you said you were disappointed, waking up in his arms.

“I suppose you’re right.” He pulled the covers back over his legs and laid back down, letting his eyes close again as to fall back asleep, but you were still cold.

“Kylo-” Your sentence was interrupted by him turning, wrapping his arms around your waist once more, and pulling you into his chest, resuming the position you two had been in all night.

“Not a word of this to anyone.” He mumbled. You giggled slightly and snuggled into him. 

“Yes, sir.”

[alittletournesol]

Kingdom Of Jinju {MinKey} part 13/33

Chapter 13 : To celebrate you

The streets of Jinju were calm, as only the moonlight was lighting the way between the small habitations. The General walked past the houses and discreetly glanced here and there to check if there wasn’t anyone seeking trouble. They had returned from their trip to Dongjeo only a few hours before, but the King had been warned by his mother that during his absence, a riot had begun — or tried to. According to some witnesses’ statements, it had appeared that the perpetrators had been sons of some of the Royal Council members.

It was needless to say that Minho and Kibum hadn’t had the time to rest and been busy at the palace, summoning the Council to settle this intolerable issue. Jinki had been in the room with them, listening to the arguments and excuses coming from a few seats and trying not to grab the culprits by the neck to throw them in a jail. It would have been a bigger mess, the King’s words already falling on deaf ears as some men refused to admit they had planned a revolt.

It had been all thanks to the Prince that things had started to be sorted out. He quite rightly despised the members of the Council — the old ones at the very least — thus he had proposed the best solution to prove the truth : to summon witnesses from the people. Evidently, his idea had been welcomed with a nascent chaos but he had immediately reduced everyone to silence just like he had done once : his sharp and firm authority had proved his worth once again. When a Lord had even tried to question his position since he had dared to abandon the kingdom, it had been Minho’s turn to step in.

Jinki had then been commanded to escort this man outside and go as fast as possible to the village to summon some trustful persons. The General had done as told and thanks to his King’s getaways in Jinju, he perfectly knew which people he had to bring. After hours, it had been decided that the six members of the Council that had pushed their descendants to start a riot, would be dismissed from their post and have their titles annulled. 

Once everything had eventually been resolved, Minho had asked his old friend to escort the members of the people to their place and to ensure their safety on the way. This was how Jinki was now walking in the streets after he had accompanied the last person to their home. During his mission, he had carefully listened to what the women behind him were saying, and he still felt dumbfounded as he realized they hadn’t recognized the young man who sometimes visited them.

But it was for the best, so he didn’t complain. He was supposed to head back to the palace where his presence must be needed, but he felt the need to check on something before. Or to be more precise, on someone. His steps were leading him through the village, making him soon reach the school that was, obviously, empty at such a late hour. He wondered if the young teacher was sleeping already, but he remembered that when he used to live near his students, he had quickly been known as being a night owl.

It was curious, but also funny how this coincided with the actual owl around his neck, the simple yet gorgeous pendant notifying about his status. Of course Jinki had seen this symbol before, for the simple fact that Minho had received an education from the best private tutor in the realm. Though it was extremely surprising to have such an as young man as Jonghyun wearing it.

When he finally reached the building, the soldier stopped to raise his head, checking if there was light coming from the first floor where the other man lived. But there was none, and he couldn’t make out any movement behind the window either. Disappointment caused a sort of pinch in his chest, and he cleared his throat. Should he still try to knock at the door ? After all, it wasn’t an usual hour for Jonghyun to be in Morpheus’ arms, if he kept his sleeping habits from the time he had lived at the palace.

Jinki slowly raised his closed fist, ready to hit the door… but he didn’t make a move. He was trapped between two decisions : the one urging him to notify the teacher of his presence in front of his house, and the one trying to reason and make him go back to his duty. He remained like this for a few seconds, because the actual situation in his own mind was troubling him more than ever. As a soldier, he had to choose reason over feelings, always. 

But he wanted to see Jonghyun, he wanted it so bad. He couldn’t explain why but he had sort of… missed him ? When seeing one as often as he saw him, none could remain cold and indifferent. Jinki had never had real friends outside Minho, because he was seeing the King every day ; it wasn’t the same with his soldiers because he was their leader and had to keep authority over them. In a way, the young teacher was the only other person he was seeing this frequently.

And by remembering the words the latter had whispered to him on the day he had left to Dongjeo… he wanted to show him that, indeed, he had been well.

“So, will you knock before you get a cramp ?”

Jinki got startled and his reflexes made him jump with surprise and unsheathe his sword on the same time he turned around. The threatening tip of his blade was aiming at a young man with his mid-length blonde hair tied in a bun, his hands raised and an eyebrow cocked. 

“Ah, yes… never scare a soldier. My bad. Good evening to you too, Jinki.”

“B-By the Gods, I’m sorry, let me help you with those.”

The General immediately put his weapon back to its place and approached Jonghyun, who was laughing and crouching at the same time. In his quick movement to show he wasn’t armed or something, he had dropped a bunch of scrolls that were now all over the ground. The soldier hissed and cursed himself as he helped the other man to get everything back, blowing on the paper to eliminate any trace of dirt.

When he stood up, his eyes met the teacher’s and he eventually smiled back at him.

“Good evening.” He simply replied, still not fond of long sentences.

“It’s been a while, what are you doing here so late ?” Jonghyun asked without moving from his spot. “Wanted to see me ?”

“I was on duty, actually. Bad stuff happened at the palace, you know, I had to be an escort for people, in and out. I happened to be around so…”

“What a long excuse you got there. Anyway, I will take it. Do you want to come over ? I was about to drink something and work a bit but I can make space for you.”

“I don’t know… I mean, maybe I’m expected and—”

“This makes two rubbish excuses. Before I hear a third one, come in.”

Without waiting for an answer, the teacher walked past Jinki and opened his door, going inside without looking behind. As he went through the classroom to reach the staircase heading to his apartment, the General hesitated before he slightly smiled and followed his lead. Making sure to lock the door from inside, as a matter of safety, he headed upstairs. It was the first time he saw where Jonghyun lived and it somehow didn’t surprise him : bare necessities. 

A home just like its owner : all about simplicity and comfort, no unnecessary things and a big space dedicated to work. He waited in a small space that looked like a living room, with an armchair and a small bookcase, full to breaking point. There was also a small rounded table in a corner, with two chairs and a few papers resting on it. Standing there, Jinki didn’t know what to do and just watched the other man put his scrolls on the aforesaid table.

“Make yourself at home, the kitchen is downstairs.” Jonghyun said. “I’ll be back soon.”

No sooner said than done, the blonde head had disappeared, and the way the sound of his steps was so fast in the stairs made the soldier smile. The latter looked around him, wondering if he could sit, and if yes, where. After a few seconds, he decided that choosing the armchair would perhaps be too much, so he eventually sat on one of the chairs. As he waited, his eyes glanced at the papers, and especially the ones he had just helped to pick up.

He didn’t know where this curiosity came from, but he succumbed to it rather quickly and gently rolled out one of the scrolls. He expected to read something like an upcoming lesson for his students, but certainly not… drawings. The more he revealed, the more surprised he got : there on the paper, there were some rounded or not so rounded shapes drawn following each other to make a line. An incomplete line though.

It only took a few seconds for Jinki to understand what he was staring at : they were moons, or rather the same moon but with all its phases since the last new moon. The last drawn undeniably was the one he had himself seen in the night sky minutes before, and the shining aspect the pencil gave it proved that it had been drawn very recently. The soldier grew more and more curious and let his fingers reach other scrolls, discovering not less surprising works like sketches of plants and some words accompanying them like a… medicinal explanation ?

Naturally, some papers were preparations of classes but Jinki found in the middle of reading and writing lessons, a really long scroll filled with notes and drawings representing the whole beginning of the Five Kingdoms’ creation. He remembered that Jonghyun used to teach history to the Prince, it was certainly about it. The handwriting was really delicate, thin and straight, perfect to be taught to children.

“What’s your excuse this time ?”

The General jumped with surprise on his chair and raised his arms like an innocent man would do in front of a weapon, what made Jonghyun laugh. Once again, the soldier was a bit shaken by the sound of his laugh, low but so clear. He smiled as an answer and rubbed the back of his head before standing up to help the other man with the tray he was holding.

“Yah, yah, I’m not disabled.” The teacher laughed again. “I usually drink herbal tea to help me with my sleep, so I can only propose you the same.”

“It’s fine.” The soldier replied before sitting again, watching his host fill a cup for him. “I won’t stay for long if you need to sleep.”

“You’re welcomed whenever you feel like visiting me, Jinki. So, how was the journey ? Will I be in trouble ?”

“I knew you helped them. They never said it but it was so evident.”

“I suppose I can’t hide anything from the observant General you are ? How did you know ?”

“The King didn’t see it but I can only think of one person beside him that owns a map and a compass.”

“By the Gods, I got confounded.” 

Jinki smiled and a gentle sound escaped his throat, yet without passing his close lips. He took a moment to drink a mouthful of the hot tea before talking a bit about the trip to Dongjeo. Jonghyun listened carefully and almost panicked when he learned about the danger his young friends had put themselves in. But the General was quick to reassure him, and both expressed their gratitude towards the gardener, who literally saved two lives by denouncing them.

“See this is why it’s not a bother, teaching to kids now.” The blonde haired man sighed. “Even though they’re twenty and eighteen… they can’t listen to me.”

“You would be surprised to see how they behave at the palace now.” Jinki replied with a smile. “The Prince seems to enjoy his role more than just accepting it, what if I tell you that he’s able to shut the Council’s members up in a flash ?”

“Really, does he ? I hope the King doesn’t feel shadowed.”

“Not at all, it looks like he finds it funny. And I think he… admires him. Should I be saying that ?”

“I’m good at keeping secrets. So, admiration ?”

“Admiration. You know, my King is still young and I’m only five years older so we don’t always get along on some topics. But now that he has the Prince, who is of his age, it’s like he has someone else to rely on.”

“And you don’t feel burdened by that ?”

“Not really, I kinda admire the Prince too. But he keeps teasing me so I won’t say it too much.”

Jonghyun widened his eyes and laughed out loud, even harder when the soldier assured him that he was mistreated by Kibum, who took every single occasion to tease him about his good looks and all. He didn’t know how to react and it was a real issue ! But the teacher was having a hard time calming down and his laugh eventually became infectious, and Jinki laughed too. Quieter, but still. It wasn’t something usual.

“It looks like you’re afraid he might like you !” The blonde haired man ended up saying.

“Actually, I never thought of that…” The General suddenly grew pale. “Could he…”

“By the Gods, I’m kidding, Jinki. I believe he might have someone else in mind but is it my business ? No, so let’s talk about you : it’s still true that you’re a handsome man, so how come you’re not married yet ?”

“M-Married ?”

“Yes, married. Or maybe I missed something and Jinju’s General has a hidden wife somewhere ?”

“I… I don’t. Having an army to train doesn’t give much free time to, you know, meet someone, fall in love, all that stuff.”

“This is actually the most valid excuse you said since you arrived.”

“Thanks.”

Jinki smiled and focused on his cup, drinking a few times and directing his eyes towards the table where he had pushed the scrolls away. Jonghyun must have noticed it because as soon as he finished his tea, he grabbed one of them.

“You coming here is a perfect timing I must say, because I wanted to give you this one.” He said, rolling the paper out to reveal the history lesson the soldier had seen earlier.

“Give it to me ?” The latter asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I think I know everything I need to know about the history of the realm, you know, I’m a soldier so it has been part of my education and training.”

“I perfectly know that and I would never question your knowledge on the topic. No, it’s for Taemin. You’re still training him, right ?”

“Yes, I am. And he’s making great progress, if it can reassure you… well, I wouldn’t leave him defend someone alone again, for sure, but soon he will be able to properly defend himself with a sword. Still… he’s terrible at archery, whatever I try, he’s a hopeless case. I’m sorry.”

“No need to convince me.”

The teacher laughed and moved to show his side, rolling his left sleeve up until his whole arm was bare. Jinki frowned and leaned on to inspect the slightly tanned skin, not sure of what he should be noticing… until the faded pink scar a bit above the elbow appeared, blindingly obvious. His eyes widened and he grabbed Jonghyun’s arm, gently turning it to see the wound better. No way…

“Taemin did that ?” He asked, dumbfounded. “With an arrow ?”

“I might have shown up at the wrong place and time.” The blonde haired man slightly laughed. “He was practicing with Kibum, but well, as you said… he’s a hopeless case. You can let him focus on his sword abilities.”

“Do you allow me to use this information later ? As a matter of pure professionalism, naturally.”

“Naturally. But back to my business, I would like you to give this to him. He can’t become a soldier if he doesn’t learn history and I believe you’re way too busy to teach him everything since the beginning.”

“Wait… you wrote this especially for him ? You didn’t recycle your lessons for the Prince ?”

“No, because these two are extremely different when it comes to learn. Taemin needs something full of imagery, while Kibum is all about words and long sentences. I told you, I can’t sleep much so I keep myself busy with something useful. Here you only have the creation of the Five Kingdoms, I want him to know this perfectly before sending him something else.”

“I can be your accomplice, he will need to know all of this.”

“Perfect ! This will give you even more excuses to visit me outside my classes hours.”

Jonghyun offered one of his so sweet smiles to his friend, and the latter lost his words for a few seconds before he just mouthed a ‘yes’ and nodded with a bit more enthusiasm. Being teased by this young man gave Jinki a different feeling than when it was by the Prince, and he couldn’t explain why. It left him speechless in both cases, but although he pretended to be annoyed by Kibum’s teasing… he appreciated it, it was like a little bond between them. As for the teacher’s way to joke around with him, it felt even more amusing since they were seeing each other a lot outside the palace.

Even though he was on actual duty when he was at school, the soldier forgot about it pretty easily. He was even enjoying, somehow, to drop his guard around the kids and be sometimes — often — used by Jonghyun to get them to learn something. They had never called each other friends, never stated nor formalized it, but it had never been needed. They knew they were, and sometimes it wasn’t necessary to shout a friendship from the rooftops for it to feel truer. 

And Jinki felt beyond happy to have a new excuse to come around again, though he wouldn’t dare to admit it out loud.

It had been a few days since their return, and Kibum found himself missing the presence of the King. With the whole business waiting for him as soon as he came back to Jinju, his husband had immediately got busier than he had ever been, to the point he had skipped lunch more than once. If it hadn’t been for the Prince personally bringing him a tray, it would have become extremely negative for his health.

However, Kibum had never stayed more than a few seconds in the big office. He obviously didn’t want to be a bother and to waste Minho’s time in these times of crisis, when the latter still had to deal with protests from the Council’s member he had excluded. But it wasn’t the only reason. He was running away, not from the sovereign but from his own desires. As soon as they were in the same room, the memory of his dream and of all those nights sharing a mattress came back to his mind.

And the one and only consequence was the way his body reacted by heating up, the Prince almost finding himself in the same physical and mental state than this first morning in Dongjeo. Even though he had had his own quarters starting from the second day, the return trip had allowed him to go back to the King’s tent, sleeping so close to him. Unlike the outward journey, something had changed and he had struggled to sleep… because he had had to prevent himself from voluntarily move so his back could touch Minho’s.

He was craving touches. But he was so scared that his husband would find him disgusting, that he kept everything to himself. He didn’t want the King to start avoiding him, not now that they were getting closer as friends… despite he was wondering if he wasn’t needing… more ?

He hadn’t been able to talk to anyone, for he had been busy himself with the leading of the palace’s maintenance. He missed Minho’s few touches… but he also missed his friendship with Taemin. Since their return, the young boy had kept training with his new soldiers friends, and Kibum somehow felt jealous of them ; they understood his passion and supported him so much better than he ever did. 

Although he wanted to confess all his new feelings to his friend, he was trapped with his fear of Taemin thinking he was coming to him only when needed. Jonghyun was unreachable, because the Prince refused to do another getaway without the King. So many things were happening to him lately, he was facing even more trust issues. He needed someone. And since neither his husband nor his mature friend were close at hand, he had to get his companion and best friend back.

He let his steps lead him towards the training yard, where he could hear swords clinking against each other. Without announcing himself, he pushed the door and entered the space, making every soldier turn towards him and bow.

“Please, do not interrupt your training for me.” He said, smiling before he scanned the place until he found Taemin. “There you are. Once you are done, can you join me ?”

“Of course hyung, just give me a minute and I come !” The boy enthusiastically said, what warmed the Prince’s heart.

“Very well. Keep working hard, all of you.”

Soldiers shouted their thanks in unison, waiting for their sovereign’s husband to leave so they could start again. Kibum was such in the mood to care for his best friend that he asked the sentry to send Taemin to his quarters once he would come out. Without really waiting for an answer, he quickly headed back to the palace and called for a few houseboys. He commanded them to bring him a few buckets of hot water and while they were obeying, he walked upstairs to keep his door open.

As always when he wanted to take a bath, he pulled the tub from behind the screen to place it in a larger and more open space. Within a few minutes, a dozen of employees knocked at the door and entered, following each other as they poured the hot water into the awaiting container. When they left, they ran into Taemin, who entered frowning at his friend.

“Hyung ? You called me… for your bath ?” There was a hint of disappointment in the tone of his voice.

“Of course not, I bathed this morning, silly.” The Prince smiled before he tapped the edge of the tub. “It’s for you. Come on, it will cool down if you stay over there.”

The young boy’s face lit up and he closed the door before approaching Kibum, who pinched his nose. It had been such a long time since he had last taken a bath with his friend next to him, and it was like a memory of their childhood was revived. It didn’t take less than a minute for the apprentice to get naked, his dirty clothes in a wicker basket, and to enter the hot water with a sigh of satisfaction.

The Prince widened his eyes when he saw his friend’s body : by means of many weeks of training, he had developed his muscles and it was like his image of a young and innocent boy had faded away. Taemin was becoming a man, and even though it scared him, Kibum eventually smiled with pride and emotion. He watched him submerge his own head to wet his long hair, and laughed.

“I think you need a cut.” The elder said as he grabbed a sheet and placed it on the floor, bringing the dressing table’s stool near the tub. “But first, let’s wash this mess.”

“Thank you hyung.”

The younger man was all smily, letting his best friend gently wash his hair like he used to do sometimes, back in Mongje. No word about their relationship was exchanged, as if this moment of peace and closeness between them had erased any beginning of a split. What made Taemin feel even better was when Kibum asked him to tell him about his training, how it was going and if he was feeling good in his new life.

This young lad had always been talkative, so he didn’t wait to be asked twice : he told everything, from his improving sword’s skills to his new friends within the latest recruits of Jinki. When the General was on his scheduled mission, it was them who helped him with his techniques and balance, and they eventually shared lunch and more, as long as Taemin wasn’t needed by the Prince.

“Do you feel… freer ?” Kibum ended up asking, his voice betraying his concern, as he gently untangled the now rinsed hair. “I know I had that terrible habit to always keep you with me, so…”

“I never felt overwhelmed with you.” His friend answered, smiling. “We both found our way here, right ? You’re the ruler, you have business now, and I’m lucky to learn what I’ve always dreamed of. It just makes me sad that we can’t be together as often as before.”

“Does it ?”

“Yes. But I didn’t want to bother you, since you’re very busy lately. I’m proud of you, hyung ! You’re a good Prince, and I’m sure the King is proud too.”

“Thank you, pumpkin.”

“Please don’t call me that. I’m almost a soldier !”

“So what ? You’ll still be my stupid little pumpkin, whatever you do. So keep quiet and please, don’t move. I’m cutting your hair now.”

“Not too long, I have to tie them in a bun.”

Kibum laughed at the command, but didn’t complain. This moment was so pleasant he couldn’t ruin it with his endless grumbling. Both men remained silent while the Prince was focusing on his scissors’ precise work, the younger lowering his head and not moving an inch. It didn’t took a lot of time, and once it was done, Taemin pretended to tie them before he thanked his friend for the perfect length.

The water was starting to cool down and before he could catch a cold, the elder made his companion get out, wrapping him in a huge size towel. The latter whined to ask him to let him be, laughing at the extra attentions he was receiving all of sudden. They laughed together and Kibum gave up, sitting on the couch at the foot if his bed while Taemin was drying and getting himself dressed.

“How come Sir Jinki is less and less present at your trainings ?” The Prince asked out of the blue. “I didn’t see him earlier.”

“He goes a lot to school lately.” The apprentice casually replied. “He seems to take his mission seriously, he always comes back with a smile. Really thin smile though, but still !”

“Does he smile ? I didn’t know he liked children that much.”

“He’s uncomfortable with children, actually.”

Kibum cocked an eyebrow at the innocent information he was just given. Beside children, the only other person at school was Jonghyun, so why would the General be smiling because of him ? It wasn’t like they were in good terms after everything that had happened, and it was pure professional visits. Nothing to be worried about. But still, something in the Prince’s chest seemed to hurt as he wondered if his former teacher could perhaps be interested in another man…

“By the way, how are things going with the King ?” Taemin spoke up once he was dressed. “You still don’t want to admit you’re seduced ?”

The oldest man was caught off guard and choked with his own saliva, making his friend laugh and sit next to him to tap his back. 

“There, there.” The boy said. “After all, it’s been a while since we talked about you two, and well… you weren’t really discreet in Dongjeo.”

“What are you talking about again ?” Kibum only replied after he got a grip on himself.

“Hyung, don’t try me. You arrive in another kingdom and immediately propose to sleep together since you don’t have a room. You tease each other, you even hit him ! Come on, you’re exchanging knowing smiles and stares… Come on.”

“Ugh, fine. Fine, we get along better than expected. That’s what you wanted to hear ?”

“No, it’s not enough. I know you, hyung, and it’s really noticeable that you’re hiding something. Spit it out, I’m not judging you.”

The Prince looked at his companion for a few seconds, and he sighed as he let himself fall on his back on the mattress. He took a deep breath and his his face in his arms.

“I think…” He started. “I think I might… like him ?”

“Told you. By the Gods, I knew it. You can’t hide anything from me !”

“But I’m not sure ! Taemin, it’s way too… new, and strange. I mean, I never felt so many things at once, and I know it’s not love because I already know what love is.”

“Can’t you put words on what you feel ? Maybe I can help.”

“I don’t know… it’s like we’ve become friends with time, very good friends. It’s not clumsy anymore, we’re at ease when we’re together and we talk easily, lightly. I… I talked to him about noona.”

“D-Did you…? Hyung, that’s a really big step, you never talked about her to anyone except…”

“Jonghyun and you, yes. I don’t know how I ended up talking like that, it just… came out ? He was there, I needed to talk, I talked. And he listened, he supported me when he wasn’t forced to. He seemed… concerned.”

“He never hid that he wanted to know you better, it must be so relieving to him that you’re opening yourself. But are you fine about it…? It’s not something trivial we’re talking about…”

“I’m… quite fine. I think if he hadn’t left when you arrived, I would have talked more. Way much more. He makes me feel comfortable, Taemin… but…”

“But…?”

“I really don’t know what it is. It’s like we’re friends like I am with you, but on a same time… I… I want him…”

Taemin frowned, not sure about the way to understand the last sentence he had just heard. He pondered it for a few seconds before he felt the need to say it.

“How do you… want him ?” He asked. “I mean… as a boyfriend or something…?”

“I don’t know… it’s like I feel towards him the way I feel… or felt… towards Jonghyun.” Kibum tried to explained, struggling with his words and starting to get angry because of that. “How to say it, by the Gods… I dreamed of him, Taemin. When we slept together in Dongjeo, I dreamed of him and… it wasn’t innocent, I dreamed he was turning me on.”

“Oh shit… for real ?”

“For real… and it was so disappointing to wake up, believe me… Thanks the Gods he didn’t notice anything, but since then, I can’t stare at him for too long without feeling this… this warmth inside me again. And the only times I felt this were when Jonghyun and I were making lo— having sex.”

“So… if I understand well… your feelings for the King are kind of a combination of the feelings you got towards me as a good friend, and the ones towards Jonghyun as a lover. Right ?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s it ! But it’s not love, right ? Love was what I felt with Jonghyun, and it really didn’t feel like that. I’m so lost…”

“Maybe… maybe you should start thinking of what Jonghyun hyung kept telling you, hyung.”

“What ?”

“He constantly repeated that what you were feeling for him wasn’t love, that you were fooling yourself. Maybe he was right, after all… I’m not assuming anything but… you should think about it. Because if he’s right, then you don’t really know how love actually feels. And what you feel for the King that’s so different… might be that ?”

Taemin’s words were followed by an awful silence, and he thought for one second that he might have hurt his friend by mentioning Jonghyun’s repetitive lecture. He realized Kibum had never talked about his relationship with the teacher anymore, after the latter was sent away from him. He didn’t know if the Prince had given up on his lover of olden times, and it was only now that he was understanding his friend had locked this part of his life in a form of mutism. On what purpose, he didn’t know.

Still lying on the mattress, the elder was gone. His eyes were attached to the ceiling, and he seemed lost in his thoughts after hearing his companion’s words. He was already so troubled by what was happening inside his body, inside his mind, but now it was even worse : more confusion had come. Taemin’s reflexion always amazed him, but this time it was more scaring him than anything.

What if it was true ? What if since the beginning, he never felt love for Jonghyun ? Before, he would have just denied and commanded whoever questioned his feelings to shut up. He would have forgotten any awful comment about his feelings being wrong, misinterpreted. But he had changed. It hadn’t been long since he had become the Prince of Jinju, the King’s husband ; yet, enough to think in a different way. 

Minho kept praising his analysis capacities, and he always thought he was just exaggerating. But now that was he was doing : analyzing his past, his acts and wills, his feelings and sensations. He was analyzing everything, and once something hit him, he sat up so abruptly it made Taemin slightly jump with surprise.

“What is it…?” The younger man asked, concerned. “Did I hurt you ?”

“I need to ask someone about love.” Kibum simply said, his eyes staring at his door. “But who ? Jonghyun doesn’t believe in it, no way I ask the King. You don’t know more than me, right ?”

“Very right. Loving someone… I like fighting more.”

“I can’t do that alone… I can’t learn about such a thing alone… I don’t know anyone else enough, except the three of you and…”

Taemin stared at him, waiting for what was coming next. In vain. His friend just slightly smiled, and let a loud laugh escape as he fell down on his back. While the boy remained dumbfounded and ignorant, Kibum was nervously laughing with his hand covering his eyes. He suddenly regretted teasing the General so much.

Meeting the General alone was the hardest thing the Prince had ever tried. The man was always busy ! Busier than the King himself, maybe busier than the Gods ! Either training his soldiers or at school, and when he was eventually free, he was privileging Minho. And of course he rested, and whenever Kibum had seen him taking a nap or reading at the library… he hadn’t dared to disturb him.

It had been a week and the opportunities kept becoming more and more occasional. But now, there was a small hope. To thank the loyalty of his people, who hadn’t followed the emerging riot and had been a great help to confound the culprits, the King had commanded to prepare a festival, exclusively open to them. He wanted to show them how worthy they were of his trust, and for the past few days, the palace had been animated by the preparations, even Kibum taking active part in them.

The day had arrived, and the Prince hoped he could find a moment to approach the General and pretend to need his help for an issue, so they could leave to a quieter place. Everyone would be way too busy having fun to notice a short absence. He was wondering if his project wasn’t completely vain, after all, how could he be sure that Jinki would have an answer ? Did a soldier actually care about love ?

He was drawn out of his thoughts by a knock at his door, and he opened it to find a maid asking if he was ready to go downstairs so she could empty the bath tube he had just used. Kibum nodded and kept the door open for her, before he left. He could already hear life outside the walls, the guards must have started to welcome the people and lead them towards the huge front yard.

The Prince went to a window and observed the scene : indeed, he saw a few dozens of persons already standing in the yard. They seemed marveled by the gardens surrounding the area, and of course, by the decorations. Since it wasn’t complete night yet, the countless paper lanterns weren’t lit, but their vivid colors caught everyone’s eye. A few garlands were hanging here and then, and an impressive buffet was waiting to be filled with quality food.

On Kibum’s advice, they hadn’t opted for sumptuous decorations, for it could have make the people feel unwelcome, or worse, unworthy. Thus, he had asked for something simple and that would bring them comfort and put them at ease. The goal of this festival was to feel accepted and trust by their sovereign, not to give a show of the royal luxury : humility. That had been the key word given by the Prince.

“Good evening, my Prince.” A familiar low voice surprised Kibum, who turned around to smile at the King coming to him. “It is my first time seeing you wearing yellow, I think ?”

“Indeed, you have a good memory.” The other man shyly blushed. “Good evening, my King. Our guests are slowly arriving, and they already seemed excited to be here. You had a really good idea.”

“I do not want them to believe what those old nobles can say to provoke riot. They deserve to see how humble we are, this festival is all for them. You did an amazing work with the preparations, once again, I feel really sorry to have left you do everything on your own.”

“Please, it was nothing. They do not have to know.”

“You are right. We will make our entrance soon, would you like to walk with me ?”

“Of course, my King.”

Smiling, Minho offered his arm to his husband, who stared at it with surprise and disbelief. This wasn’t an usual gesture, and it could be so much misinterpreted… but Kibum’s body reacted for him, and he accepted the offer by sliding his hand inside the King’s elbow. They started walking along the corridors, discussing the chosen theme and the planning of the evening.

For the purpose wasn’t to dishonestly treat the people like nobles, they had chosen to propose a buffet, even preparing one for the few children who had come with their parents. As they stopped to observe a bit their guests from another window, they noticed some families were represented by only one to two members. Minho understood it as a way to avoid showing themselves like profiteers, the lonely fathers often being part of a incredibly big family. 

Kibum was talking about how their clothes were really clean and suitable to this event, showing his enthusiasm, when a familiar face caught his eye. Frowning, he stopped in the middle of a sentence to focus on the short but tough silhouette with unique blonde bangs tied in a bun. The King smiled at his shock, and leaned on him.

“I thought it might be a good occasion to invite him.” He whispered. “He takes great care of the people’s children.”

“I can see that…” The Prince smiled as he noticed the sudden amount of children surrounding Jonghyun, happy to see him outside the classroom.

He was so appreciated, and his face was all lit up. Both sovereigns were about to start walking again when they noticed the General joining the teacher, and they widened their eyes at the bright smile they exchanged. If it wasn’t a surprise to see Jonghyun smile, they stood gaping at the way Jinki seemed especially happy at that moment. 

“They seemed to have become friends over all those months of working together.” Minho commented, his voice a bit shaky because of the shock. “I do not remember the last time I saw my General smile like this… perhaps was it when I got crowned.”

“Jonghyun smiles easily but I know his different smiles.” Kibum added, more for himself than for his husband. “There is no doubt, they are friends, good friends.”

“Well… these are good news ! It will do Sir Jinki good after all these years bearing with me only.”

The King laughed at his own words, but when the Prince didn’t join him, he got concerned. He looked at him and noticed the way his eyes couldn’t lie : he was feeling upset about what he was seeing. It somehow hurt the sovereign, who frowned a bit. He didn’t know if he had done well to invite the teacher in the end… he wanted to use this event to show how close the two rulers of the kingdom were, to entrust their people.

But now, it was like they were both miles away from each other, and Minho felt something pinch him. A combination of anger and worry about their relationship in the presence of, let’s say it, Kibum’s former lover.

And let’s also say it, the King was jealous. 

But he did his best to hide it, and proposed to his husband to go downstairs to start the celebrations. The latter agreed and they walked together again, still linked by one’s hand on the other’s elbow. Coincidently, their outfits were somehow matching, the bright yellow habit of Kibum balancing with the navy blue coat of Minho. When he made a remark, the Prince finally smiled and used his knowledge to inform the other man that yellow and blue were complementary colors.

He kinda stuttered on this specific word, what made the King smile. There, they were still fine. They had both got a grip on themselves when they were announced to the people, and when they appeared at the huge entrance door, they were welcomed by silence. But it wasn’t a bad, uncomfortable silence ; no, everyone was staring at them with big eyes. It was the first time they were seeing their rulers again, after the ceremonial parade after their wedding.

And they were amazed.

Just like Minho and Kibum had planned together, they stopped in front of the crowd and swept it with their eyes to see everyone. And then, surprising everyone, they elegantly bowed. Whispers were raised, dumbfounded, until both sovereigns stood up and smiled at them.

“Welcome to all of you.” The King said loudly, gently. “I thank you for accepting our invitation to this event prepared especially for you. As you know, our kingdom had known a rather worrying situation during the Prince’s and my absence. Fortunately, everything has been resolved and it has mostly been by means of your honesty and cooperation.”

“We decided you deserved to be thanked and rewarded for your loyalty, which moved the King and I a lot.” The Prince pursued, surprising everyone since it was the first time they heard his voice, and his soft and honest tone was delightful to listen to. “This festival is to celebrate you, we hope you will enjoy it. Please, have fun and do not feel pressured by our presence among you. Food will arrive soon, you are allowed to eat as much as you want, to dance, to sing if you want to. Be our guests.”

Their speech had its impact : they were applauded with a considerable joy and even screams chanting their names. When Minho and Kibum smiled at a few little girls, they got all shy and ran away to hide behind their parents’ legs. Within a few seconds, employees were bringing countless plates and filling the buffet, and even though the people seemed reluctant at first, a simple inviting gesture from their King convinced them.

The festival started, with the musicians maintaining a good and joyful atmosphere. No one was bored, no one left the yard to go back home. Some ventured their regret to have left their family at home, and if the Prince heard them, he proposed them to go and pick them up. The humility and kindness of their rulers moved everyone, and even the few elderly persons who had remained hostile eventually relaxed.

When he felt that the moment was the right one, Kibum excused himself to his husband and wove in and out to get an overview. In no time, he found of the General on a side of the yard, giving some more instructions to his soldiers. Taking a deep breath, the Prince made his way towards him, making sure not to lose sight of him. When he almost reached him, Jinki noticed him and turned towards his direction.

But then, his eyes caught sight of something behind him and in no time at all, he shouted to everyone to go to the ground and caught Kibum by the shoulders to entrust him to the soldier behind him. Himself started running towards the King, but when he grabbed him to protect him, the arrow had already been shot. Minho’s body jolted in his friend’s arms and before he could know what had happened to him, he saw the General leave him to a few soldiers while he was sprinting to climb over the outer wall.

The last thing he saw was the face of Kibum above him, and he felt his hands supporting his head before he fell unconscious, somehow unable to hear what his husband was yelling.

next

[drfxster]

Fosterson Week, Day 2: Canon Divergence

Jane thought punching Loki the first time felt good. Getting to punch him four times before Topaz pulled her off him felt even better. “You should have stayed dead!” she shouted, trying to wriggle free. Loki just stared at her in disbelief.

“Janey, Janey, Janey,” the Grandmaster laughed as he watched the spectacle. “What about my new guest has got you so, uh, worked up?”

“Remember the boyfriend’s brother I mentioned?” she asked, finally breaking out of Topaz’s grip.

“This is the invade-y one that died?" The Grandmaster’s eyes moved up and down Loki.

“We thought he died,” Jane muttered.

“Well, that’s a story I have to hear.”

“I hope you’ll excuse me, then, sir. I still have a lot of work to do.” Jane shot Loki another glare before looking at the Grandmaster again.

“Alright, Janey, just give be sure to me an update on your gizmos and doodads tomorrow,” he said breezily. Jane clenched her teeth in a smile and resisted the urge to punch him too.

Living in a high-tech alien civilization where she got to work with their tech had been a lot cooler in her head. Asgard had been closer, and that had included an evil alien parasite using her as a host and sapping her energy, Odin insulting her and demeaning her, invasion by evil elves who killed Frigga, getting put under house arrest, and a really exhausting escape. 

Here on Sakaar, she had basically become the Grandmaster’s pet for a year and a half, and she was pretty sure he kept sending his minions to mess with her stuff when she went to sleep or left her lab, just to keep her around.

And now Loki was around. Joy.

After that little run-in, the mandatory parties became even more intolerable, one giant game of keep-away-from-Loki-and-the-Grandmaster. If she’d had any kind of political savvy, she’d have tried to get Loki an appointment with the pardoning stick, but she knew how to pick her battles, and the god of mischief was the last person to have a political vendetta with.

So she kept her head down. Pilfered what she could to keep building her portal back home. She would finish it eventually, the Grandmaster was only delaying the inevitable.

Then came the day when there was actually a reason to be at the party. She was hiding in the corner, making a few adjustments to the quantum screwdriver she’d cobbled together when she smelled electrical discharge and heard a very familiar, deep voice. Thor, shouting Loki’s name.

“Hey!” She crammed the screwdriver back into her pocket as she tried to charge after the guards wheeling him away, only for her skirt to get pinned down by someone’s foot. Whirling around, she saw the Grandmaster smiling at her, looking higher than usual.

“What’s the hurry, Janey?”

“Please tell me you are not sending my boyfriend into the arena,” she implored.

“Ohhh, right, Lord of Thunder would be your boyfriend, wouldn’t he?” The Grandmaster chuckled. “Maybe we should play that up in the promotions beforehand. You’re coming to the match, no arguments.”

“Are you kidding me? No, I’m not going to be part...how the hell did this even happen?”

“142 found him. Said he’s a contender.”

“142 is a nihilistic alcoholic mess who doesn’t care about anyone but herself!” Jane fumed. “Call it off. He’s not a slave.”

“Janey.”

“I am not calling them prisoners with jobs!”

“Shh, shh, save some of that spitfire for the main event.”

Oh, she really wanted to punch him.

Thor opened his eyes to find Jane sitting over him. “I don’t suppose this is Valhalla,” he croaked.

“Not exactly.” She bent down and kissed him very softly before dabbing at one of the cuts on his arms. “I’m so sorry this all happened to you.”

“How are you here?” He tried to sit up, but she placed a hand on his chest.

“Stay down, I’m still working. And to answer your question, Imploded wormhole generator in my lab. I don’t know how long it’s been on Earth, but it’s been a year and a half here,” she admitted.

“Oh, Jane.” He stopped as he realized there was someone else in the room, breathing heavily. Despite Jane’s best efforts, he sat up, making out the form of the Hulk sitting in what looked like a hot tub. For a moment, the two of them stared at each other. “Are we good?” Thor prompted, receiving only a huff in reply.

“Look, I need to get back to my lab before it gets trashed too much,” Jane interjected. “The Grandmaster keeps trying to curb my progress. But I promise, I’ll be back as soon as I can. But first,” she paused to produce an odd looking wand-like instrument from the pocket of her dress. “Let’s see if I can’t get this off.” She held it up to the disk on his neck and Thor winced as it sparked against his skin. “I’m sorry, hold on, almost...got it.” She pulled the disk off. “Hang on to this, you might need it.”

“Clever as always, Jane Foster.” He smiled, and she kissed him again, a little more aggressively this time. “You swear to return?”

“I give you my word.” She deepened her voice to intimidate him, and he managed to laugh.

“Puny science girl,” Hulk muttered.

“Banner likes Jane,” retorted Thor. “And we need to talk.”

Jane was in the middle of working on the spectrometer when the guards came and dragged her into the throne room where the Grandmaster was dismissing Scrapper 142 and Loki.

“Janey, I’m really sorry to do this, but your boyfriend’s gonna have to die. It’s sad, you two must’ve been cute, but this is business.”

Then it clicked, just as the guards released their grips on her arms. “You’re about to try and make me into a hostage, aren’t you?”

The Grandmaster chuckled. “Sorry, but it’s poetic, you know? ”

“Please, don’t.”

“Janey—”

“Right, looks like I have to do this.” She pulled out her screwdriver and hit the detonator switch she’d hidden on the end, throwing it on the ground before she started running. “Bye!” The blast went off just as the mooks started chasing her, giving her the chance to swerve in the same direction she’d seen Loki and 142 go. And 142 had Loki knocked out flat on his back. “I wanna know how you did that.”

“You’re with the blond idiot?”

“Thor?”

“Yeah, him.”

“We’re a thing, yeah.”

“Then come on.”

“Surprise.”

Thor immediately flung the nearest bottle at Loki’s head, just to make sure he was real, then noticed Jane scribbling on the walls. “Hjarta, what are you doing?”

“Well, thing is, all my research is back in my lab at the Grandmaster’s palace, so I can’t go back and get it, which means we don’t have my wormhole generator to get out of here. Which means we’re gonna need to go through one of the wormholes, and our best shot is probably the big one, which is also dealing with a a collapsing neutron star—”

“I tried to tell her that we should find a clean one, but apparently, she’s insisting on the Devil’s Anus,” Valkyrie complained.

“Hey, after what you told me about Hela, we’re on a time crunch, right, Brynnhilde?” Jane shot back. “So, anyway, I’m trying to get the coordinates down right, because we’re only going to have one shot.”

“And we’re going to need a ship,” Valkyrie interjected. “Mine would get torn to pieces in that thing.

“The Grandmaster has a great many ships. And I may have the access codes,” Loki spoke up, only to get another bottle launched in his direction by Valkyrie.

“He’s not serious, is he?” Banner asked. “We’re not actually going to trust him?”

“He’s Loki,” Thor said with a groan. “We can trust him to what’s in his best interests, which currently align with ours.”

“Thor,” Jane said warningly. “Remember what happened last time.” Thor turns his palm to her briefly, showing the obedience disc she pulled off him.

“We will work with what we have. But first, we need to start a revolution.”

[wematch]

Only You

In their second year a deal is made. Andrew wants to explore his boundaries and there’s really just one person he trusts around himself.

Set in a universe where everything is the same except that Andrew never kissed Neil on the rooftop that night. Instead, they just got closer and more comfortable around each other.

Read from the start if you haven’t yet! [Part 1]

You can also read it on [AO3]

As always a huge thank you to @velvetnoodle for being an amazing beta <3<3

Part 5

At practice, everyone is starting to feel the pressure of their next game on Friday. And Kevin has become intolerable with his incessant criticism, which made Andrew aim a few shots at his head that only made Kevin complain louder at everyone else.

When they take a five-minute break Dan stops near Neil. “This isn’t productive,” she tells him, sounding frustrated while glaring at Kevin’s back.

“No, it isn’t,” Neil agrees. Everyone that had been on the team last year is more or less used to Kevin’s way on the court; the new additions to the team, however, are not. And they are the ones receiving the worst of it.

Matt comes to join them looking exhausted. He grabs his water bottle and drinks half of it before he has the energy to speak. “Does he ever shut up?” he mutters, still trying to catch his breath, “I don’t think I can handle ten more minutes of this.”

Dan leans against him, her expression a clear indicator that she agrees. “I’ll go talk to him before we resume practice.”

They stay quiet for a few moments, all sipping water and trying to rest their aching muscles before going back to the court. They all watch Kevin say something to Andrew that makes him pause drinking his energy drink and stare blankly at Kevin. “I could ask Andrew to knock him out,” Neil comments grinning, not taking his eyes away from Andrew.

“Oh, yeah I don’t think he would mind that request,” Matt says once he notices what’s happening. “You’re the only one he listens to anyway,” he comments and shares a look with Dan.

“No,” Dan says firmly and turns her attention away from Kevin. “We need Kevin to win the game,” she reminds them, and then she turns her full attention to Neil. “Don’t ask him to do anything.”

Neil shrugs. “Relax, it was just an idea,” he says, adding, “and he wouldn't do it anyway.” Whatever Kevin had said was not enough of a reason for Andrew to do something like that. Neil turns around and starts to walk back to court. He can hear Dan whispering something to Matt but he doesn't turn around. He walks past Andrew and Kevin and without stopping he tells them, “Let’s go,” and Kevin immediately grabs his helmet to follow him to resume their practice.

***

After night practice with Kevin, Andrew and Neil walk the stairs up to the rooftop. They sit in there in silence staring at campus beneath them while Andrew smokes a cigarette.

As he watches the smoke disappear around them, all Neil can think about is going back to Columbia at the end of the week and on how the last time they went there Andrew had let Neil touch him. It makes him think back to the deal they made weeks ago. It’s still hard to believe that Andrew had wanted to do this. Nicky would probably make a scene if he ever found what’s been going on between them.

Neil glances at Andrew who’s calmly staring ahead of them while he finishes his cigarette. After a few moments, he watches Andrew’s fingers stubbing out the cigarette onto the floor and Neil bites his lip. He’s been curious to know if Andrew would allow him to touch him if he asked. He knows not to take offense if the answer is no but he had never tried to touch Andrew before he initiated it. “Can I?” Neil says gesturing in the direction of Andrew’s upper arm.

Andrew tilts his head to the side to see where Neil is pointing and for a moment he only stares at Neil’s hand. ”Yes,” he answers and turns to properly face Neil. ”You can touch me if it’s not anywhere new.”

Neil fights the urge to smile at that and inches closer to Andrew. He places his hand where he initially pointed at and moves slowly from Andrew’s elbow up to his neck and then starts to run his hand down towards his chest. “Is this really okay?” Neil asks, wanting to be sure that he isn’t pushing it too far.

“There’s no ‘this’.”

“You know what I mean, Andrew,” Neil says and brings his other hand up in a silent question. When Andrew nods his acceptance Neil places it on Andrew's shoulder.

Then he feels a hand come to rest on his waist, and then moving towards his back. He looks up from Andrew’s chest and finds Andrew already studying him. They stay frozen in place staring at each other until Andrew breaks the silence.

“I don't–” Andrew starts, and grabs Neil neck with his other hand, moving slightly closer to him. “It’s fine when it’s you,” he concludes.

Neil feels his heart begin to beat even faster with what Andrew just said. He can’t think of anything to reply to that and a second later the hand on his neck pulls him closer until there's no space left between them. Andrew kisses him like the world stops and starts with Neil's mouth.

It takes him a moment for his brain to start working again but then Neil moves his hand to Andrew’s hair in search of something to hold onto.

The kiss is electrifying, Neil has never felt anything like the way Andrew’s chapped lips feel pressed against his own. And he almost wants to complain when not long after, Andrew stops kissing him and moves just enough to ask. “Yes or no to this, Neil?” his lips brushing Neil’s as he speaks.

Andrew’s deep voice, sounding out of breath is almost too much to Neil and it takes him a moment longer than normal to register the question. But he doesn’t want to stop this just yet; it feels too good to stop. “Fuck yes,” whispers back before moving closer to lock their mouths together again.

***

Neil enters the cafeteria, grabs some food and moves to sit down at the table where Kevin and Nicky are already eating. He takes his jacket off and glances at the pouring rain outside, suddenly glad that Nicky made him buy one a few weeks ago.

He sits down, opening his water bottle and taking a sip while he scans the room full of people. He notices Aaron eating lunch with Katelyn on the other side of the cafeteria and Allison sitting a few tables ahead looking at her phone, so Neil brings out his own and texts her to wait for him after lunch since they're headed the same way. After a few moments, Allison looks up from her phone and looks around until she finds Neil. Then she gives him a smile before returning to type on her phone and talk with the other Foxes sitting with her.

Neil starts to eat but after his second bite, he pauses as soon as he notices Andrew step inside the cafeteria doors completely soaked. The hoodie he’s wearing had not provided any protection against the storm outside. He watches as Andrew grabs his food and starts to walk in their direction. As he gets closer Neil takes notice of Andrew's appearance, his blonde hair is plastered to his face and the hoodie is clinging to his body. Neil frowns; Andrew could get sick from this but after noticing Andrew’s annoyed face he decides not to say anything about it.

When Andrew puts down his tray at the table and sits at Neil’s side, Nicky takes one look at his cousin and comments, “You’re dripping.”

Andrew gives him a death glare that immediately makes Nicky return his attention back to his food. Then Andrew takes his drenched hoodie off, leaving him with only a thin loose black t-shirt.

While they eat, Kevin begins to talk about Exy, and Neil answers him without really paying too much attention. He focuses on how Andrew uncomfortable looks eating at his side, he can see that his shoulders are tense, and he keeps pausing to pull his sleeves down to cover his armbands.

Once Nicky finishes eating, Kevin starts to get up to leave with him. He looks at Neil who has already finished eating too, then to Andrew still eating his jello. He opens his mouth to speak but then he seems to change his mind and decides to follow Nicky outside without saying a word.

Neil bites his lip as he watches Andrew. “You can take my jacket if you want,” he says quietly once the others have left the cafeteria.

“What makes you think I want your jacket?”

“Just take it or leave it, it’s up to you.”

Andrew seems to consider it while he finishes his dessert. When he finishes eating, he grabs the jacket from Neil's chair and puts it on, closing the zipper all the way up. Neil is glad that the jacket is a dark gray, because otherwise, Andrew might not have accepted it.

Andrew then grabs his drenched hoodie and they get up to put their trays back in place. Andrew gets out of the cafeteria to go to his next class while Neil walks back to Allison’s table to see if she’s ready to walk to his next class with him.

He stops at her side and she looks up at him with a devilish smile. “Where’s your jacket?”

Neil freezes for a moment, not expecting that question. She was either watching them during lunch or she just noticed Andrew leaving with the jacket on. He ultimately decides to ignore it. “Are you ready to go or not?” he says more harshly than he intended. Everyone else at the table looks up at him but he ignores their stares.

She gives him a bored look and gets up. “Fine, don’t answer. Let’s just go.” Then she grabs her purse and a massive umbrella before grabbing her tray and begins to walk towards the exit. Once they get outside she opens the umbrella and steps as close to Neil as possible to cover him too. And the moment they begin to walk in the rain Neil is suddenly glad they’re walking together to their next class since he would now get drenched on his way to class and be stuck in the classroom soaking wet.

“I fucking hate this weather so let's walk quickly,” she tells him looking pissed and they begin to walk at a fast pace towards the building.

***

After his classes finish, Neil meets the others at the Maserati and Andrew drives them all to practice. Neil can see in the mirror Nicky sharing looks with Aaron in the back but doesn’t think too much about it. But when they enter the locker room with Andrew in front of them, he catches the rest of the team stealing curious glances towards Andrew.

They both put on their gear and head to court. After some warm-up laps, Andrew moves to his position as the goalkeeper and Nicky comes to stop near Neil. ”Was I seeing correctly?” he asks glancing in the direction of his cousin. “Was he really wearing your coat?”

Neil notices Aaron pause near them to try to listen in but Neil doesn't care, so he answers Nicky loud enough for Aaron to easily hear it. “Because I told him he could have it.”

“Andrew was wearing your coat,” Nicky says looking strangely at him, “because you offered.”

“Yes,” Neil says, exasperated. He's losing his patience, and he’s tired of people not getting Andrew. “Now go to your position, and stop with the questions, Nicky.”

“Yes, captain!” Nicky half shouts shaking his head and starts a slow jog to his place.

Not a minute later, Aaron moves to step in front of him. “Last year you said you didn’t swing,” he points out and touches Neil on the chest with his racquet, pushing him slightly back. “So what are you doing with him now?”

“None of your business,” Neil answers angrily, he's done with all the questions for today.

“The freshmen think you two are dating but some of the others are betting you’re just fucking around. Which one is it?” Aaron asks him, sounding pissed off and stepping closer to Neil.

“Why do you even care?” Neil spits, clenching his fists in an attempt to control himself.

Aaron continues as if Neil didn’t speak. “He wouldn’t have broken our deal last year if it was the latter. Either way, I won’t let you fucking use him,” Aaron tells him angrily.

Neil doesn't back down, he looks him in the eye and warns him. “Get out of my face now.”

“Or what–”

The sudden sound of something hitting hard against the plexiglass wall makes them both jump. They look to the side to see what had caused the sound, and they find Andrew with his racquet still against the wall from smashing it against it.

When Andrew sees them both looking at him he begins to walk towards them. Neil knows that the whole team is staring at them but he doesn’t care; if Aaron knew his own brother he would know that Andrew would never allow anyone to use him. Neil glances at Aaron, and fights the urge to grin when he sees him visibly tensing as his brother approaches them.

Andrew stops in front of them and crosses his arms. “Is there a problem?”

“Aaron seems to think that there’s one,” Neil tells him.

“Oh? Do you?” Andrew asks turning to focus on his brother. “And do tell, what’s the problem?”

“He is,” Aaron says in a pissed off tone.

“We’ve been over this last year,” Andrew points out and takes a step closer to his twin.

“Yes, but–”

“You got what you wanted,” Andrew interrupts him. “Don’t bother me again about things that are not your concern. Is that clear?” Andrew says in a bored tone, but his eyes say he’s anything but calm, there’s a fire in there just waiting to be unleashed if challenged.

Aaron takes a step back and looks between his brother and Neil for a second. Then he gives Andrew a nod and begins to walk to the other side of the court. Everyone else immediately starts to move around to get ready to start practice but Andrew turns to stare at Neil.

Neil takes a deep breath and takes one step closer to Andrew. “Your brother is an idiot,” Neil comments after looking over Andrew’s shoulder at Aaron’s figure still walking away.

“He’s not the only one,” Andrew informs him while looking straight at him. Neil rolls his eyes and begins to walk away. He can’t deal with any of this shit today, he wants to focus on Exy until his legs feel numb and his body is too tired for his head to think about anything else.

[Part 6]

[mullersquad]

Tainá Müller: A Voice to be Heard

by Tudo | Oct 13rd, 2020 | Interview

Student of Philosophy, the actress believes that without debate there is no democracy

She is one of the eloquent voices of feminism. She is active to talk and reflect on this and other subjects such as: pandemic, philosophy, environment, artificial intelligence, social networks, and of course, on the new Netflix suspense series “Bom Dia, Verônica”, but the adventures of the actress do not end there, with release scheduled for the end of the year, Tainá is writing a book on motherhood. "It's a kind of philosophical chat, a little unpretentious, but with a lot of confessional moments of exchange," she explained.

In this exclusive interview with TUDO magazine, Tainá reveals herself to be a safe and mature woman to make her choices.

PHOTO BY CYNTHIA SALLES - Globo

Revista TUDO: Debuting the series “Good morning, Veronica” on the streaming platform, you play a clerk who decides to investigate a crime. During the creation process, did you ever visit a police station and learn a little about a clerk's routine? How was your laboratory and how long did it take you to prepare for this job?

Tainá Müller: Yes, I did a two-month preparation with Sergio Penna, which included a visit to the homicide police station in Rio. There, I had access to the routine of police officers from many areas, studied cases of femicide to understand the particularities of this crime and followed the work closely of a clerk. All of this was fundamental to Veronica's composition. But other than that I also had an emotional preparation, to dive into the psychology of the character from the script and a body preparation, which involved fights and shooting classes.

RT: As a matter of fact, the series addresses a little explored genre - thriller -, especially on broadcast television, do you believe that the streaming platforms give the opportunity for the actors to work on other, more interesting themes outside the box?

TM: For sure. The Brazilian audiovisual market is changing very fast, following the global trend of globalization of content. With that, it is natural that we have a greater diversity of themes, genres and how good we are having this opportunity here in Brazil. “Good Morning, Veronica” got my attention from the beginning, precisely because it was very different from everything I had ever seen.

RT: In March the whole world was caught off guard by a pandemic causing the population to be quarantined, isolated, and all of us were affected in some way, some more others less, emotionally, financially. How did those days go by for you and your family?

TM: It was full of emotional, ups and downs, on this roller coaster that became 2020. It is a period of fear and uncertainty and I don't think there was a person in the world who was not affected by this impact. And it is not just the pandemic, there is something very strange in the air in politics, in climate change, in our behavior. But honestly, despite feeling it all, I don't feel comfortable complaining about anything right now. I am aware of my privilege and how hard it is being for people in the most vulnerable positions. I am very sad to see all this around me, I try to help as I can and I take it one day at a time.

RT: We saw that you participate in a group that discusses feminism, an important action nowadays, but how do you see the feminist movement 20 years from now, for example? Because although we have achieved a lot, there is still much to do.

TM: About three years ago I started to study feminism more deeply. I owe a lot to teachers Djamila Ribeiro and Márcia Tiburi, who gave weekly classes to this group of mine on the subject, in a very philosophical and academic way. I honestly cannot imagine what the world will be like in twenty years, but in my utopias I create a much more feminine world, in every way. We have been living for centuries in an energetic imbalance between feminine and masculine. The two forces must be in harmony and equality in order to prosper without self-annihilation. Patriarchy has been stifling the feminine of the world for so long that today we need to fight for the most basic rights. I believe that the toxicity that we experienced at that time comes from this virility without measure, which is predatory, without care and without��reflection. I hope that men can be free to rediscover their feminine side of protection, nutrition and delicacy with details, with the subtle. And that women rediscover all the creative power that the feminine has, without the fear of violence, oppression and silence. I gradually feel that this movement has already started. Men and women are becoming more aware and the backlash of this is an attempt to hold on to the unstoppable which is the path of evolution.

PHOTO BY CYNTHIA SALLES - Globo

RT: Back to the classroom you chose the philosophy course, and philosophy is the search for knowledge, reflection, questions and wisdom, but in the midst of everything that is happening (deforestation, homophobia, prejudice, intolerance, patriotism, hatred and etc.). Can you see a light at the end of the tunnel for future generations?

TM: I believe that the light at the end of the tunnel will not magically come out, it is the result of building thought, of resuming the ability to imagine. Yes, I think that today's social upheaval is an identity crisis caused by the excess of (dis) information that we receive every day through the screens. Our thinking is influenced by an algorithm that constantly reaffirms our tastes and values, creating thought bubbles with insurmountable walls. At the same time that we are all connected, we are watching the debate dies. And without debate, there is no democracy, you cannot reach a place of common interest. We have a lot to think about, what to invent and what to review in order to get out of this web of immobility that holds us. Perhaps the only thing that unites us, regardless of values ​​and political position, is that we want a different world from the one we have now. We all have the feeling that “something didn't work out” and that we need to fix it. I believe that everyone today with food on the table has the duty to put their head on thinking about a new world, one that accommodates diversity, one that is more free and fair, more egalitarian and, above all, more ecological. How are we going to do it? I have no idea. But if we don't start debating and thinking now, it won't happen in the future. We need to stop falling into the trap of re-discussing ideas from 100 years ago and start looking ahead. We need to bury the 20th century in order to enter the 21st century definitively.

PHOTO BY CYNTHIA SALLES - Globo

RT: You are also scheduled for the original series “Evil Secret”, which is slowly return to filming. How has adaptation been at work in the midst of a pandemic? And taking advantage of the opportunity, how is your character [in the series], personality, behavior?

TM: My character is a criminal lawyer who gets involved with the forensic psychiatrist plays by Sergio Guizé. I can't give spoliers (laughs) but I hope to be able to start filming soon.

RT: Recently, the psychoanalyst Contardo Calligaris said that relations will be cleaner and more truthful among people in the post-pandemic period. What is your perception of the post-pandemic world? Do you already notice the change in the people around you?

TM: I believe that we still cannot measure the impact of all this change in our relationships, but I believe that the imminence of death always brings a lot of learning. At least I am on this path, of continuing to foster relationships of true exchange, of honesty and I have less and less patience for social masks. I hope that this is a trend and that we can increasingly live in authenticity.

RT: Taina, we would like to know a little more about the book you intend to write talking about motherhood. As it is a very specific topic, we would like to understand what the main approach you intend to take, and also how the idea came about? What is the name of the book and if it has a release date? Are you writing alone?

TM: This book emerged from the invitation of Companhia das Letras to write about the topic after a text I published in the newspaper “O Globo”. It is the result of a dialogue with Marcos Piangers about parenting in this changing world, about what it was like for us to be a son and now what it feels like to be a mother of a boy and a father of girls. It is a kind of philosophical, unassuming conversation but with very confessional moments of exchange. We plan to launch by the end of the year. It is late because of the demands of the pandemic, or rather, of our own parenting at that moment without school and without help.

RT: You recommended a documentary: “The Social Dilemma” that talks about artificial intelligence and the algorithm. But I wanted to understand how you do to keep mental health balanced and away from social networks, in a world where posting more and more has become essential in the lives of many people. How do you control these longings that come many times, without us noticing?

TM: I can say that today, despite being aware of the problem, I am totally immersed in it. And I wonder if I will ever have my brain and my time back. We have been captured, our professions and networks depend on it now, our entire generation is in the networks. The “I think, therefore I am”, became “I post, therefore I am”. Who has never experienced the strange sensation of living something very special and feels obliged to “leave” the moment to post, why not register there on the networks it seems that the moment did not even exist? Anyway, I hope that we will wake up and at least fight for the regulation of this trillion-dollar technology industry, so that we are not completely dominated by it. Otherwise, we will see democracy giving complete space to the supremacy of the industry and that is scary. I believe that it is possible to maneuver this transatlantic and change this route, strengthening and reaffirming the control institutions. There is a lot of shade, but there is also a lot of light in the technologies. Today I can attend a class by an indigenous leader directly from a village in Acre, something that would have been impossible years ago. So I root for ethics.

PHOTO BY CYNTHIA SALLES - Globo

RT: You said that when the vaccine comes out, the first thing you will do is take your son to visit the Nova Esperança village of the Yawanawas, it is sad to see everything that is happening with the forests, with the animals and with the indegenous. But do you believe that there will be time for salvation as government officials are not committed to resolving these issues?

TM: There has to be time. But we have to be more active, as civil society, to fight for what  is right for us, which is a livable world. And protecting the indigenous is also self-protection, since they are the guardians of the forest that sustains the biochemical balance so that life on Earth is still possible. Not only that, they also have an ancestral knowledge of survival and harmony with the environment that we urgently need to recover. The decolonization of our thinking is fundamental to our own survival. The indigenous people teach us to "think outside the box" and I think that today they produce the most contemporary thinking of all, so whenever I can I hear what they have to say. I realize that they bring a different logic of existence, much more connected to the essence of life much more integrated with everything that exists and with the true “key to happiness” that capitalism wants so much to sell and cannot achieve, bringing only insatiability of desires. I am sad because we are privileged in Brazil for having all this wealth of cultural diversity in the country, which wants and has a lot to teach us, but we do not value it. We still do not see our true gold, which is the power of our original peoples and their way of life. We cannot let capitalism destroy our greatest wealth. We need to act and it is now.

This paper is a free translation of Tainá Müller's interview. All rights reserved to TUDO magazine.

[ncfan-1]

Not As You Remember

In which Ursa Wren tries to talk to her daughter. [Gap filler between 'Legacy of Mandalore' and 'Zero Hour'.]

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

Whenever Ursa Wren left her family to go fight, bright, staticky holocalls home became a commodity more precious than gold, squabbled over by the operatives, so that even a clan chieftain’s heir was left to barter, threaten and bribe just for a few minutes at the comm. Barter and bribes were beneath her dignity, she knew, but after the last time she’d nearly gotten her head cracked open, Ursa was inclined to be a little more sparing with threats.

Holocalls were a commodity paid for in currency of long watch shifts and meals of Ursa’s least-favorite field rations and unsatisfying, near-tasteless protein paste—often the kind Alrich liked to joke bore a closer resemblance to sculptors’ clay than actual food. (She often found herself missing his humor when they were apart. She could find traces of it in his kin, but those traces only made her hungrier for the genuine article.) But when a time came that their leader thought it likely that transmissions wouldn’t be intercepted or used to discern their location, these things earned Ursa a few minutes more at the comm than she might otherwise have had

First, one of her parents (usually her father, but sometimes her mother) appeared, seeking a status update. The fortunes of Clan Wren, sworn as they were to House Vizsla, were closely tied to the successes and failures of Death Watch. Any report Ursa gave them was to-the-point-this wasn’t the primary reason for her calling, and they both know it.

“Alright, Ursa,” her father would often say, with a shake of his head that signaled a particular kind of exasperated fondness. “I’ll put that artist husband of yours on the comm. Mind, he may not be able to stay awake all through your call. It’s been paint, paint, paint non-stop ever since you left. I don’t know when that boy finds time for sleep.” ‘That boy’ being nearly the same age as Ursa herself, but her father never seemed quite able to accept the younger generations as anything but children.

Alrich would eventually appear, blinking sleep out of his eyes, just as likely to be holding Sabine in the crook of his arm as not.

Ursa found a smile unfurling over her lips, muscles that had had no exercise in what felt like an eternity aching as they were called back into use. “Have you been sending your work to our esteemed Duchess again?”

His eyes sparkled. Ursa wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just the connection dropping momentarily. “My latest piece should reach her any day now.” He flashed a slightly lopsided smile her way, shifting Sabine—fast asleep, though she’d been fussily wakeful the last time Ursa had called—in his arms. “I wonder if the Duchess will finally follow through on her threats to have my gifts to her jettisoned into the sun.”

Personally, if Satine Kryze ever did such a thing, Ursa thought she might storm Sundari and kill the woman herself. What a waste it would be for her husband’s artwork to be destroyed, what an intolerable waste. “Another woman might find cause for concern in her husband sending so many unsolicited paintings to another woman.” He seemed supremely unconcerned, which suited Ursa perfectly. “One day, you will have to forward one of the ah, love notes she sends back to you after receiving your gifts.”

Quick as a shriek hawk, his smile widened to a grin. “I’ve saved them all; I keep them in a scrapbook. I’ll show them to you, the next time you come home.”

Yes, when she came home. Those words made Ursa all too aware of the distance. Holocalls provided the illusion of proximity, but reality gave the lie to that illusion whenever his face shimmered and froze, before the connection was reestablished. The price she paid for fighting for the return of the old ways, Ursa recognized, now that Clan Wren no longer put up a façade of supporting the Duchess’s rule. It was a worthy burden, one she had shouldered willingly, and not one she would abandon now. Still, its weight grew burdensome at times.

“How are things at home?” Ursa asked, more quietly than she had first intended. “How are the children?” How are you? but it wouldn’t budge past the back of her throat.

“Tristan is sleeping, presently. He’s recently progressed to level two of basic blaster training.”

Ursa had thought her older cub’s aim was improving the last time she had overseen his training. She nodded. “And Sabine?"

Alrich shifted the baby’s weight so that her face was more readily visible to her mother. “Also sleeping. At last,” he added, so tiredly that Ursa couldn’t help but laugh.

“Is she so unmanageable as all that?” Ursa teased. “Has my husband at last exhausted all his nerve?”

“She cut her first tooth last week,” Alrich replied tersely. He stroked the soft, dark fuzz on Sabine’s head as he went on, “The doctors have given her medicine for the pain, your mother has supplied us with more teething rings than I think one baby could ever use, but the only thing that will quiet her for more than a minute at a time are the handles on my paintbrushes.”

At that, Ursa’s smile faltered, though Alrich’s despairing tone over the savaging of his paintbrushes might, under other circumstances, have made her laugh. “Isn’t she rather young to have begun teething?” It hasn’t been that long since I was last home, surely?

He shrugged. “I’m told that human babies can begin teething as young as three months old. Don’t concern yourself over it, Ursa; she’s just trying to get a head start on her brother. Now, you are currently stationed on the second moon of Kalevala, are you not?” His eyes gleamed with curiosity. “I’ve never had the pleasure of visiting that moon. What is it like?”

Ursa felt tension seep out of her spine as he asked a variation on a question that was, by now, intimately familiar to them both. Alrich had grown up in Sundari, and though the nature of his work had taken him to other cities, other worlds, he spent most of his life before (and for a few years after) their wedding in Sundari. (He went into raptures over the architecture whenever the subject was broached. Ursa honestly felt a little guilty about all the times she had blown up buildings in Sundari under orders from Pre Vizsla. She was also just a touch worried about what Alrich might do if the Crusader Mural at the base of the royal palace was ever targeted.)

Alrich had not traveled as Ursa had, and his curiosity led him to ask, “What is it like?”

She started, as ever, with descriptions of the native flora. Ursa was rarely ever stationed inside a city, so descriptions of plant life, geography, the weather, they inevitably came first. If she had visited one of the cities on the world where she was stationed, descriptions of the city followed. Of course they did; Alrich was so hungry for information about local artwork and architecture that he would hardly have let the call end without that information being passed along to him.

That was where it started. As they spoke more and more, Ursa found herself drifting into other topics. Sometimes, the dialect of Mando’a spoken where she was stationed was so different from the ones she had grown up with that she could barely communicate with the locals. At times, she found herself complaining about the weather, which was invariably incredibly unlike the frigid wastes of northern Krownest or dry, sterile Sundari. Petty squabbles among the operatives were discussed, along the reconciliation that followed. A song she had learned. A holonovel that was being passed around camp.

All of it came pouring out of Ursa’s mouth in a torrent, because the timer was reading thirty seconds, and she knew she would have to disconnect soon, but oh, I love you, I’ll speak with you again as soon as I’m able.

-0-0-0-

Ursa had no difficulty picking out Sabine in a crowd or out in the wilderness. In fact, she had so little difficulty that she was actually somewhat concerned. If Ursa could so readily identify her daughter, she had little doubt that vengeful members of Clan Saxon could do just the same. But her armor, in shape and design, was her armor. Even a child was entitled to that amount of freedom of expression.

(She found it buried deep down past her worries, but that Sabine was so easily recognizable gave birth also to a spark of relief. Sabine was a starburst of color in the tundra, and it made it easy for Ursa to focus on her any time she wished to—which, these days, was most of the time.

The only thing was that, when things had settled down enough that they could do so, the bits and pieces of Sabine’s armor that she had had to discard while she was… away would have to be re-forged to fit her properly. Ursa know that there were certain communities that wore less armor than was Clan Wren’s standard, but looking at Sabine with these bits and pieces missing was just… It reminded Ursa of far too much.)

Now, Sabine was out by the eastern wall of the fortress, inspecting a malfunctioning utilities box, brow furrowed as she examined the tangle of wires.

“This is worse than…” Sabine cut herself off with a sharp click of the tongue as she reached further into the box, her eyes narrowed slightly. She now spoke Krownest Mando’a with a provincial, slightly slurred accent Ursa longed to iron out of her voice, but when she had last tried to broach the subject, Sabine’s face had crumpled like paper crushed in someone’s first, and Ursa’s voice had failed her.

Ursa watched as Sabine went about her work, wondering when she would notice her. She always was prone to getting lost in her work. I see that much has not changed.

What had changed was the speed with which Sabine realized she was under scrutiny. All of a sudden, she whirled around, wrenching her hand out of the utilities box and reaching for a blaster, before her eyes focused in on Ursa and she let her blaster fall back into its holster. “Mother,” she greeted her, making like she wanted to fold her arms across her chest, but stopping shy and letting them fall at her sides. "I’m sorry; I didn’t hear you coming.”

“You should be more mindful, Sabine,” Ursa chided her. “I don’t know how much longer we will be able to suppress news of Gar Saxon’s death. His kin will be out for your blood.”

Even if Sabine hadn’t been the one who killed him. Even if Gar Saxon had attempted to do something that every Mandalorian everywhere would recognize as an act of base cowardice (Different communities had differing rules of engagement, especially where duels were concerned, but one rule that was universal was thus: under no circumstances do you ever shoot your opponent in the back after the conclusion of the duel). Gar Saxon had forfeited his own life when he aimed his blaster at her daughter’s retreating back, but Ursa was coming to realize, bitterly, that this would matter not at all to his kin. She was slowly coming to grips with the idea that Mandalorian space would be just as lawless a place as it had been during the Siege.

(Coming to grips, perhaps, with the idea that Mandalorian space had never stopped being a lawless place, that the Empire had painted over the rot with sterile black and white and “do your duty,” and she had never realized. The lawlessness had grown quieter, conducted away from the light. Ursa had been focused on one thing or another, and hadn’t realized what was slipping away from her.)

“They’ll be after yours, too,” Sabine pointed out. “And—“ She stopped herself, clamping her mouth shut. Jaw taut, fists clenched.

‘And’… ‘And’ what? Ursa feared she knew. She hoped Clan Saxon would have sense enough not to jettison the only piece of leverage they had over Clan Wren. She hoped. “How are the repairs coming along?” she asked, and her voice sounded pitifully faint to her own ears, even accounting for the wind. Milksop meek, trembling at the knees.

“They’re… coming.” Sabine scowled at the utilities box. “The wires are messed up pretty bad—we’re probably gonna have to order replacements. But I can bypass some of the bad ones for now. It’s not a permanent fix, but it should tide us over until we can replace the wires.”

Ursa caught her mind snaking in mild confusion even as she nodded. “You seem well-versed in rerouting utilities.” It had been years since she had thrown away Sabine’s old class schedules, but memory held an edge as keen as mullinine. Her daughter, already skilled with repair and mechanical work, had taken many classes to further her knowledge. None of those classes, Ursa thought, would have taught Sabine how to rewire a damaged utilities box.

Sabine flashed a hard-edged smirk her way. “When I was living on Nar Shaddaa, the place where I lived had problems like this a lot. The landlord would remit half our rent for the month if I’d do repair work for him without charging.”

Nar Shaddaa. Ursa had not actively kept tabs on where Sabine went and what she did after fleeing Sundari. What little she knew, she had learned from others (well-meaning informants or political rivals come to gloat), and it painted a picture so incomplete Ursa would have sworn it was moth-eaten. She’d had no news of Sabine after her flight from Sundari that she would have credited, not entirely, not until it was reported that Sabine had joined the Phoenix Squadron.

The idea of Sabine having lived on Nar Shaddaa for any amount of time made Ursa itch. She knew that the life of a fugitive was hardscrabble, but the idea of either of her cubs, let alone the younger, living in such a crime-infested hive was not something that could be borne gladly. “I have never been to Nar Shaddaa,” Ursa remarked, fixing Sabine in a piercing stare. “The closest I’ve come was a visit I paid to Nal Hutta—“ Terrorizing the Hutts and gunning down their lackeys; not once did I ever hope that a child of mine would do something that could top that, not once did I ever hope for that “—and Nal Hutta is, by all accounts, a far cry from the Smuggler’s Moon.”

For the best results, phrasing it as a question would have been better. Ursa wasn’t so green as to not know that. Her lips were pressed firmly shut as she looked expectantly at Sabine.

Sabine’s hand was trained on the utilities box, her eyes narrowed against the glare that made the snow on the ground seemed to glow. “…Nar Shaddaa’s about like you’d expect,” she said finally. “It’s cold—not as cold as here, but colder than Nal Hutta—and dirty, and crowded.” She grimaced. “Really crowded. Plenty of people go there looking for any kind of new start, but can’t scrounge up enough credits to leave if their luck’s no good.”

“Still, you would encounter greater diversity there. Diversity of people, of languages.” Two images flashed through Ursa’s mind like a sudden burst of sunlight through gray clouds. First, there was Sabine, all of eight years old and reading through Huttese workbooks and lexicons when other children her age would have been reading chapter books and comics. Second, the surprise stamped on visitors’ faces when they caught sight of non-human faces among Ursa’s clan; when, when had that become the exception, rather than the rule? Even Alrich had been a touch surprised when he first met Clan Wren as a whole, which in retrospect Ursa supposed she should have taken as a clue.

“Yeah, there was plenty of that,” Sabine agreed. “Lots of diversity with their art, too.” Her eyes warmed slightly, but otherwise her face remained carefully neutral, a mask of skin and muscle stretched over bone, as impenetrable as beskar. “You can see Corellian holo-sculptures and Tatooine sand paintings on the same street. The locals, the people who were born and raised there, have their own kind of art.”

“And what is that?”

Sabine set her toolkit on top of the utilities box, rooting around for whatever it was she needed inside. “You know how shopkeepers on some worlds use neon signs? Nar Shaddaa makes an art form out of neon lights. There’s a whole genre of art there dedicated to neon artwork. Not just flats mounted to a base, either; I’m talking free-standing sculptures, with multiple colors. Malachite, ultramarine and this purple color about halfway between mauve and heliotrope were the most common where I lived, though some people liked to use silver and black, too.” Her eyes glazed over in reminiscence. “There was a sculpture of a Cassius tree in a market square that must have been over four meters tall.” The eagerness in her voice seemed close kin to what Ursa felt in battle—ever-hungry, never quite satisfied. “The ‘tree’ was supposed to be in bloom; its flowers changed color from gold to silver depending on what time it was.”

Listening to her talk like this was like listening to Alrich whenever he returned home after a viewing at one of Sundari’s art galleries (Provided he had actually liked the artwork he had seen there). Ursa smiled and found herself asking, “Did you ever participate yourself?”

A shutter came crashing down over Sabine’s eyes. “No, Mother. You know me; I stick to my paints.”

“…Of course.”

Sabine said no more, and eventually Ursa headed back inside, unsated.

-0-0-0-

She wasn’t coming upstairs for supper much.

Oh, fair, it was rare for all of Clan Wren to be in the dining hall at the same time—the only time they ever were was on feast days, or when they broke their fast after a death. Typically around a quarter of the seats were filled on occasions when Ursa took meals there. More commonly, people took their meals in their own living quarters, or ate outside while on watch duty. Ursa was used to presiding over a mostly-empty hall, and with all the years her husband had been held hostage, her son had served in the ISC, and her daughter had been… away, Ursa was used to having none of her immediate family with her when she took her meals.

Ursa should not have felt the absence keenly. She should not have felt it at all, she thought irritably. After so many years of absence, it should have been more surprising to look down and see her daughter’s head (dyed) and distinctive (brightly colored) armor. Should have been more jarring to hear her voice than not.

Absence was determined to be more jarring than presence.

Sabine rarely came to the dining hall for supper (Ursa suspected she had continued her old habit of going straight to the kitchens whenever she was hungry). Even Fenn Rau showed up in the dining hall more often than Sabine, and half of the warriors of Clan Wren still tensed on impulse whenever he sat down with them. Perhaps it had something to do with the way some of the children had decided that this strange warrior, who spoke a dialect of Mando’a strange to their eras and who had accompanied the chieftain’s runaway daughter home, was just the person to ask the sort of questions they thought a strange warrior from another Mandalorian world might know the answer. If the man was going to be pestered, it might as well not be while he was trying to work.

But tonight, still no Sabine.

Finishing her meal—no rations or veg-meat or protein paste that looked like sculptor’s clay, but toothsome stew packed with enough meat and fruit and tubers that the broth was barely discernible—was like being a child again. All Ursa wanted to do was leave the dining hall and go elsewhere, but she was constrained to sit and finish her stew. As a child, her mother had watched her, keen as a tundra burrowing owl in the dead of night; now, her whole clan watched her, and her dignity demanded that she stay instead of storming off like an impatient child.

 Yes, my whole clan watches me. Looks to me for guidance, and depends upon me for protection. They all do, but for the one I—

Ursa credited the years her mother had spent teaching her how to eat properly for the fact that she didn’t just wolf down her stew.

It was difficult to say where Sabine might have gone. She avoided notice quite comprehensively for someone with armor more colorful than the aurora, much more so than Ursa could ever remember from the days before Sabine went away to Sundari. As best as Ursa could determine, Sabine hadn’t really reconnected with any of the distant cousins she had been friends with as a child, not even the ones who were apparently willing to let bygones be bygones concerning the weapon. As best as Ursa could determine, Sabine hadn’t even tried to reconnect with them. Tristan was the most likely to be with her, and he told his mother that Sabine mostly just kept to herself.

Kept to herself and worked—Ursa had noticed that much. Sabine had a preternatural gift for knowing when something in the fortress needed fixing. If a sensor beacon needed repairs, Sabine did the repairs. If the software in the fighters’ targeting computers was malfunctioning, Sabine knew just what needed to be done to fix it. When the shield generator for the fortress began to sputter, Sabine crawled underneath with a toolkit, and there she stayed until it was fixed. For the life of her, Ursa couldn’t tell if she was just trying to make the most of the calm before the storm, or there was more to it than that.

(That Sabine knew how to do maintenance and repairs on fighters had taken Ursa aback, at first. It was Sabine’s expertise with machines that had drawn the Academy’s eye, but this was another thing that the Academy hadn’t taught her. The Academy had taught Sabine slicing and reprogramming in preparation for a ‘glorious’ career in espionage, and weapons repair and creation when she was discovered to have an aptitude for that, but nothing to do with fighters.

It had occurred to Ursa later that living aboard a ship constantly involved in dogfights and being involved with a rebel cell that housed fighters, if a different type than those found on Krownest, had likely given Sabine ample opportunity to learn. She wondered who had taught her, who had left their mark on Sabine in the form of their teachings, but couldn’t find it in herself to ask.)

The fighter bays were empty, as was the control room or the ground-based defenses. Ursa checked the sparring rooms, but no Sabine. The outer walkways yielded up no vibrant color, just the darkness of winter night.

Finally, Ursa went where she supposed she should have gone first, if she’d not assumed that Sabine would still be working. The door to her daughter’s room was shut when she came to it, but not locked, not this time. When Ursa opened the door, she was immediately struck by an astringent odor so powerful it made her eyes water. The sight that greeted her when she got past the smell was still an incongruous one, even though Sabine had been living here for a few weeks now.

She’d found her daughter, alright. She had found both of her cubs sitting on the floor, a floor one could barely walk on for everything that was strewn about. What’s this, now?

None of what was lying out was Tristan’s—Ursa knew that much. Tristan was invariably much more well-organized than this, and he didn’t bring his things into other people’s rooms unless it was absolutely necessary. He was sitting on the edge of the mess, besides, while Sabine was perched in the middle of it, as though sitting behind a shallow wall.

Directly in front of Sabine was a small easel supporting a strip of painter’s wood about three quarters of a meter in height. A box of paints sat open by her right leg, along with a palette and a cup full of water and paintbrushes. A sheet of cleaning paper lay on top of a wooden block, the paper dotted with streaks of paint and water. One of Sabine’s blasters had been disassembled, lying in pieces on the floor while the barrel soaked in a small tub of cleaning solution, the source of the odor that had struck Ursa when she opened the door. Datapads were strewn all around, some of their screens showing fighter schematics, some showing artwork, some showing topographical maps of Krownest, one with text in Bocce, and one with text in a language that Ursa thought might have been Ithorese.

They weren’t talking when Ursa entered the room, instead sitting in a silence that she would almost have said was companionable, if not for the fact that Tristan was looking at Sabine with a sort of concern that was noticeable even past his baseline-worriedness. Silent they might have been, but not lost in anything; they both looked up the moment Ursa crossed the threshold into the room. Tristan nodded mutely, but Sabine’s face creased in light annoyance.

“You might wanna knock next time,” Sabine said, frowning. She picked up a paint brush and dabbed it with a splotch of dark blue paint on the palette. “I could be doing anything in here.”

“I… apologize.” She had a point, after all; it had just occurred to Ursa, like sandpaper on bare skin, that Sabine had been prepubescent the last time she had lived in this room. (Ursa was, perhaps, a little surprised that Sabine’s rebuke had been delivered so calmly; she would have expected more anger, maybe shouting.) “I wanted to tell you that if you want to eat, it would be better to eat while there is still food left.”

Sabine nodded, her eyes straying back to whatever it was she was painting. “I will. I’m working right now.”

Since sunrise she had been working. Come to think of it, Ursa wasn’t entirely certain Sabine had eaten lunch, either. Pursing her lips, Ursa wondered if the crew of the ship Sabine had joined (the Ghost, wasn’t it?) had ever had to force her to eat. Ursa found herself briefly contemplating tying Sabine to a chair and force-feeding her. It would undoubtedly end poorly, but still…

Ursa caught Tristan’s eye. Immediately, he was getting to his feet, nodding at his mother and his sister in turn. “I need to check in with the watch,” he apologized, staring down at Sabine’s head with his brow furrowed. “I have to go for now.”

“’Kay.” Sabine looked up briefly, but her eyes were far away. “I’ll see you later.”

Still fixing Sabine with that concerned look of his, Tristan left.

This left Ursa and Sabine, the latter settling back into her painting as though she had been alone the whole time. Ursa wondered bemusedly if Sabine would even notice if she tried to catch a glimpse of what she was painting. Apparently, she was in that area still perfectly aware, because when Ursa came closer to try to get a look at the wood, Sabine abruptly angled it away from Ursa and glared up at her. “I’ll show it to you when I’m done. I don’t want anyone seeing it before it’s finished.”

Her father was just the same; Ursa could recall with awful clarity how he would never so much as give her a glimpse of the portrait he had made of her until after it was done. That point of similarity wasn’t a balm so much as a thorn, when Ursa had been left to wonder if their work was all of them that she would be allowed to keep.

Ursa settled down in the low wicker chair by the sliding doors of Sabine’s closet and watched her in silence. The lights flickered from time to time (a problem in a room with no windows), but never for more than a moment or two at a time.

 Something else to make a note of on the maintenance lists. I let this room stand empty for far too long.

“If you won’t let me see your unfinished work,” Ursa said after a few minutes had passed, “may I at least ask you what the subject is supposed to be?”

Sabine stared at the front of the wood for a long moment before replying, “Have you ever been to Garel?”

Ursa narrowed her eyes as she peered more closely at her daughter. “I’ve never heard of Garel, Sabine. Is it one of the planets you’ve been to?”

The idea that her daughter was well-travelled, let alone more well-travelled than she herself, jarred. It had jarred when it first occurred to Ursa, when she realized that the fact that Sabine had survived all those years… away meant that she had likely traveled to more planets in the space of several years than Ursa, even during her time in Death Watch, had visited in her life. It still had a sense of wrongness to it now.

“Lived there for a while.” Sabine put down her paintbrush and reached for one of the datapads. She tapped the screen with her fingernail, biting her lip. “The cityscape was… something. I’ve been planning to do a piece on it for a while; I’ve just never had time.”

Ursa glanced over the datapads and the disassembled blaster with a jaundiced eye. “From everything else you seem to be trying to do at the moment, I’m not certain you have time now.”

Sabine jerked her head back, her lip curling back from her teeth just a little, less threat than simple reflex. “I’m working, Mother. I’m getting plenty of stuff done like this.”

Familiar ground yielded no traps or tricks. Ursa scoffed, almost smiling. “Sabine, we have had this conversation more times than I can remember.” How many times had she walked into this room when Sabine was younger, only to find her daughter apparently trying to do several different things at once? “I have a hard time believing that you can give your attention to so many disparate tasks. At the very least, I have a hard time believing that you can give all of these tasks as much attention as they require when you try to do them all at once.” She tapped the handle of one of her blasters for emphasis. “For instance, the blaster you are trying to clean. How likely is it that you’ll finish that quickly when you are trying to paint, look over fighter schematics and read maps, and read… whatever it is on those other datapads?”

“Maybe it won’t get done fast.” Sabine stared intently at the screen of the datapad she held in her hand. “But I don’t have watch duty tonight, and I’ve got plenty of other blasters. That’s not even one of my main blasters over there.”

There was a slight bite to her voice, but otherwise, no display of temper. No real show of her teeth. The ghosts of old shouts and complaints clamored in Ursa’s ears, even as Sabine said nothing, even as Ursa said nothing. Sabine tapped a few more times on her datapad, set it down gently, and resumed painting.

This… A shade of a child sat on the floor before her, small and thin, her long, black hair spilling over her shoulders. She was sketching in a sketchbook, slapping away her father’s hand when he tried to filch it and laughing at his exaggerated expression of pain. She was forever trying to do five things at once, paint, sketch, work she had brought home from the auxiliary Academy at the end of the term, work her mother had assigned her, maintenance on her weapons, and any number of other things, depending on where her mood took her. Ursa was never convinced that she could do five things at a time as quickly as she could have done one thing at a time, but she never missed deadlines, never turned in pitifully inferior work.

What sat before her today was a stranger by comparison. The child’s face had been like a window to her mind, revealing thoughts and emotions. None of her experiences were strange to Ursa; she had been present for them all, or had a good idea of what her daughter was experiencing when out from under her supervision. Now, her face was as a mask, stronger than beskar and more opaque than Chandrilan SinguBlack*. No weapon could break it; no light could pierce it. No eyes could discern the truth behind its wall. There was no key with which to turn the lock.

Her child, the child who had left these halls to go to Sundari, had devoured and repurposed herself, cannibalizing hair and lips and armor and voice and hands. Hair dye in lieu of war paint, garish paint on her armor eradicating blood and scrapes and the marks that had been made at their forging. Heart chewed up, rent to pieces, stitched back together in a shape Ursa didn’t recognize. Similar, yet different. Technically the same person, and yet no one Ursa recognized.

For a moment, one horrible moment, a protest dripping with her blood battered against a wall of teeth. However ignorant she had been, whatever cruel innocence had caused her to wreak that abomination, Ursa found she wanted back the child who had left for Sundari, snowflakes catching in her hair.

She was Ursa Wren, chieftain of Clan Wren, ruler of Krownest. She mastered herself, and with a silent nod, left her daughter to her painting.

-0-0-0-

Years ago, Ursa Wren made a choice. A choice that was perhaps no true choice at all, the choice of a woman with a blaster digging into her back and a firing squad before her. Still, she claimed it as a choice, because whatever her cub had done, whatever perversion she had wrought, there were things a mother owed her child. Her child was owed an explanation that didn’t involve mealy-mouthed justifications for what she did. Her child was owed the truth, however unpleasant.

Years ago, Ursa Wren made a choice, and resigned herself to living with it. She could have her daughter back, or she could have her clan (less her daughter and her husband) safe, for a certain value of “safe.” She could have her daughter by her side and her clan hunted to the ends of the galaxy, or she could cast her daughter away and live under the yoke, but still, live. It was a matter of what she wanted: did she want the knife trained over her neck to fall, or didn’t she? No, of course not. Ursa Wren was not just a mother, and what her daughter had done…

“You will never see her again. She is exiled; whatever path she walks will never lead her here. She will die in the great expanse, or you will die before she ever returns.”

This was what Ursa told herself to quiet her mind.

“Your sister is gone. She can never return. I will not ask you to forget her, but do not speak of her if you wish for your father to live and your clan to survive.”

She had said something similar to Tristan. Her daughter was gone but her son was still with her, and a mother had as much of a duty to the one as to the other. He had accepted it in his quiet, unhappy way, and they never spoke of Sabine. Not once in all those years. With nothing else to do, Ursa had not… had not forgotten, exactly. She had locked memory away as you would lock a dangerous prisoner in a high-security prison cell. Monitored closely and kept quite comprehensively under control.

With glacial slowness, memory had crystallized.

And then, Sabine returned.

It was nearly as much a curse as a blessing that her daughter had returned. Everything Ursa had done to keep her clan safe was at risk, but she could not find it in herself to regret allowing Sabine to live under this roof again, any more than she could regret gunning Gar Saxon down. However many problems it created for her, fighting for survival and dominance came more naturally to Ursa than did politicking and bowing and scraping to the Empire.

She’d not dared to hope for her daughter’s return. She’d not dared to hope that Sabine’s exile would be rescinded, let alone that she would rescind it on her own initiative.

Neither had Ursa expected that Sabine would return to her so different.

When the Jedi insinuated that he knew her daughter better than she did, Ursa had bristled. How likely was it that a man who had had her daughter for only a few years would know Sabine better than the woman who bore her, who raised her for over a decade? How likely was it that Sabine would ever open her heart to a Jedi? Ursa still wasn’t certain of just how well the Jedi knew her daughter. But neither was she certain any longer that she knew Sabine so well herself. She had changed the locks of her mind, and not furnished her mother with a key. Ursa wasn’t certain she ever would.

-0-0-0-

The morning dawned as winter mornings were wont in the polar tundra of Krownest—marginally lighter than the dead of night, but the sun did not grace the earth for long, nor with any strength. The stars shone bright and cold, glittering like shards of broken glass. Though trying to find Sabine once the day had begun could be like trying to track down a single pebble in a quarry, it was easy enough to find her when morning was still “dawning.” Sabine wasn’t the early riser she had once been; Ursa didn’t even have to rise that early herself to catch her on her way out of her bedroom door.

“Sabine?” she called, her voice damnably faint again.

Faint enough that Sabine, it seemed, did not hear her the first time. She was blinking sleep out of her eyes, hiding her yawns behind her hand. There she went, walking away, and Ursa followed after her as though she might never…

No, that was foolish. “Sabine?” she called, and it was as though her voice had never been faint at all.

Sabine paused and turned around, blinking rapidly. “Mother?” Ursa was greeted with a look of blank incomprehension. “What’s wrong?”

A slightly disbelieving smile curdled on Ursa’s mouth. “I wish to speak with you. Is that so difficult to believe?”

Silence drew up between them like a fogbank, clouding an already indistinct impression. Sabine’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been wanting to talk to me a lot lately. I just have to wonder…”

You were gone for so long. Is it really so difficult to believe that I would want to speak with you often? Even were she at her most reckless, Ursa knew (hoped) she had sense enough not to say such aloud. If ever there was something fit only for driving Sabine further away from her, that was it. And Ursa had already given her as much of an explanation as was needed, spelled out the necessity of it. If there was nothing more to be said on the matter, then let nothing more be said.

“There were…”

‘There were’ what?

Ursa closed her mouth and opened it again, even as Sabine’s eyes searched her face with caution. As Ursa groped for something, anything to say, she met only emptiness. What was it… what could she say that would not sound trite even to her own ears? She had only a vague idea of what Sabine would be responsive to, and what would drive her walls higher, her mask thicker, her heart harder.

“Sabine, I—“

Whatever Ursa might have said died suddenly when a siren started going off, then another, then another, in a cacophonous din. But what her ears recognized immediately, her mind was slow to accept. She stood there, open-mouthed and gaping like a fish stranded on dry land, while the words slipped further away.

Sabine glanced past her down the hall. “Sounds like trouble,” she pointed out in the provincial, slightly slurred accent that Ursa longed to smooth and sharpen until it was just the same as the voice Sabine had possessed when she left for Sundari, lightyears and eons ago. “We should get moving.”

Before Ursa could say anything, Sabine slipped past her, caution etched still on her face.

After entirely too long staring at her daughter’s retreating back, Ursa followed, nearly choked with formless words.

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

*Ersatz VantaBlack paint.