#this is why she’s reluctant to bottom or even TALK about — she equates it with basically getting the fuck beat out of you.

[wcshedup]

is sinday a good time to go on and on about the terrible sex barbie had while she was at the height of her addiction, the shitty partners, the complete lack of any bdsm etiquette —

[bubblesuga]

By My Side

Summary|| Kim Namjoon- Teacher’s Assistant, Sex God, and the last thing you expected to have in your mouth. Name or otherwise. When Namjoon offers to tutor you, you couldn’t pass up that offer even though he didn’t give you much of a choice. 

Word Count: 8,892

Warnings: smut, fluff, and everything in between

Part 3 of my College!AU series

Astrophysics wasn’t top of your list on things to minor in. 

You could have chosen Literature, Creative Writing, hell you would have even been happy in Art. However, you took Astrophysics. Of all fucking things. 

For a while you wanted to drop the class, change your minor or just solely try to focus on your major which was Business Marketing. You hear you have a higher chance of obtaining a job in that field anyway, and you got a real ass chewing from your friend when they found out you signed up for Astrophysics. 

The problem was that the day you planned on dropping the course, Kim Namjoon of all people convinced you not to. 

It’s not like you had a reason to listen to him, and he wasn’t talking directly to you but instead offered his reasons to the class as to why he stuck through it and decided to become a TA the following year. He loved space that much. 

So now, every time you walked into the lecture room you couldn’t help but look to see if Mr. TA was at the front of the class. 

The thing about Namjoon was that he was smart, beyond what you believed anyone could be at your age and although he was only a little older than you, you still felt like he had the knowledge of the entire universe in the palm of his hand. 

You suddenly became much more interested in Astrophysics after that. 

“...and that makes a bit of you as old as time. While the heavier bits in your body were formed in the hearts of stars, the hydrogen in your body was formed a mere three minutes after the initial Big Bang,” you professor spoke, your pen scrawling across the paper, “but the protons in your body was made a millionth of a second after the Big Bang. Some of the protons that formed in the earliest parts of the universe, are in you today.” 

As he continued to speak, you watched Namjoon with a red pen, marking various papers. He gnawed on his nails, then looked up, sensing his eyes on you. You quickly looked away, clearing your throat quietly and looking down at your paper.

Your professor glanced up to the clock, “Okay. I want to go home early today so get out of my classroom please. Everyone except for Miss. (Y/L/N).” 

Confused, you stayed seated while you watched everyone else pack up and walk out of the classroom. The professor made his way up to your seat, sitting on the desk with a sigh. “So, I really don’t want to have to fail you. Your last two terms showed 67% on both of your finals.” 

“U-uhm, yeah I’ve been struggling a little bit.” You noticed Namjoon watching you, his eyes peaking softly out from his glasses. His hair was done so well, gelled up with the lilac color framing his face nicely. 

“Do you want to be in this class? Because I’d rather you drop it if you feel like it’s a waste of your time.” The professor came off harsh, but you knew his intentions were kind. 

“No! I love this class! I’ll work harder, I’m so sorry. I promise by the end of this term I’ll give you an A.” You explained, your voice coming off both apologetic and defensive at the same time. 

“Okay, I’m looking forward to giving you that A then. You may go.” 

You stood abruptly, trying to ignore the embarrassment you felt from Namjoon hearing that conversation. He didn’t seem to react to the things the professor said, and you were sure that he was used to hearing conversations like these but that didn’t take away your embarrassment nonetheless. 

As you were about to walk out, you heard your name. When you turned around, Namjoon was stood from his desk. 

“You know, I could tutor you if you want.” His hands gestured picking up and dropping the pen on the table. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he was nervous. 

“Oh, no thanks. I can’t afford a tutor.” You gave him a sheepish smile, shrugging and slipping your arms through the straps of your back pack. Mostly filled with math text books, you felt the weight take an immediately shift on your shoulders. 

Namjoon returned the smile, “I’ll do it for free.” 

“Really?” Your eyes went wide, “You don’t have to. I’m sure you have a busy enough schedule as it is.” 

“Not really, I’m ahead in all of my classes. I think by the time I have to start worrying about them again I can have you up to par in here.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

You pondered for a moment, wondering if it was really worth it to have the hottest guy you had ever seen tutoring you in a subject you had no idea about. He seemed to notice your ponder, chuckling softly. 

“I don’t bite.” 

Finally, you nodded. “Okay, when?” 

“I’m free right now.” He picked up his things, walking towards you. You allowed him to pass you, leading you out of the doors. He stopped walking in the center of the grass in front of the science building. Plopping down, he waited for you to sit. 

You raised an eyebrow, the grassy area shaded just well enough with trees but the warmth of the sun still hitting your skin. The grass was damp underneath your mostly bare legs, your shorts short enough for you to have to sit on your feet otherwise you would have a flashing situation that you really didn’t want to have to deal with. 

“Okay so the main test you need to worry about is the General Exam. A lot of the questions are on ancient science, more specifically how the Greeks began the human ascent into our knowledge of the stars and space itself.” Namjoon began, and already you felt your brain being clouded over with blank thoughts. 

“Okay.” You nodded, trying to follow along to the best of your ability. 

“How did the Greeks determine the size of the Earth?” 

You stared at him, your eye twitching while you dug around your brain for the answer. You knew the answer was there somewhere, so you open your notebook and flip through the notes from last week. 

“Uhm... They waited until a lunar eclipse and measured the shadow that the Earth cast on the moon.” The tip of your pen clicked against the notebook. Namjoon met your eyes, kindness lacing them while his eyebrow raised. He genuinely wanted to help you, and you prayed you didn’t become too enchanted by the way he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Correct. What did they study specifically though?” 

You stared down at your notes again, “The diameter of Earth’s conical shadow, which they found that shadow’s diameter was about two and a half times the moon’s diameter.” 

“Good again.” Namjoon said, encouraging you while he continued to ask you questions. 

When it got to parts that were particularly hard to remember, he was patient while you sifted through your notes and textbooks to find the answer. Although your conversation with him previously was limited to asking him for a pencil, you found yourself comfortable with him quickly. 

Namjoon finally reached into his bag, pulling out an older textbook and opening it to a bookmarked page. Carefully, he explained Maxwell’s equations as if he was born to teach. You admired his intelligence, seeing a blush grow on his face once he noticed that you weren’t looking at where his finger’s were pointing on the page. 

“Uh, (Y/N)? Focus.” He snapped in your face, breaking you out of your trance and causing you to flip your eyes down to the paper. 

“S- sorry. You just have cute dimples.” As the words left your mouth you wanted desperately to swallow them back up and then sink into the ground in embarrassment. 

You expect him to laugh, but you didn’t expect him to laugh this hard. 

“H- holy shit, that was out of nowhere!” He hollered, clutching his stomach as he fell back into the tall grass. People around you two were beginning to stare, each holding a smirk of their own while you covered your face and fell backward into the grass yourself. 

Still laughing, he uttered his next sentence, “I mean, I knew you liked me but damn. I thought I would have to work you a little longer to get you to admit it.” 

“What?” You pulled yourself onto your elbows, staring at him with a gaunt expression, “who said I liked you? I just said you have cute dimples! I say that to everyone who has dimples!” 

“Don’t bullshit yourself, babe. I see the way you stare at me in class, you can’t deny it. Especially with how obvious you are about it.” He rolled his eyes, his laughter finally calming down while he reopened his book. 

“Whatever. Just tutor me.” Your voice came out in a growl, grabbing your pencil. Namjoon’s dimples deepened, deciding not to press the issue any further as he noticed your. . . agitation? Embarrassment? He couldn’t tell exactly. 

~*~*~

“Joon!” Namjoon’s head whipped towards the direction of his name, spotting Taehyung running towards him in his apron. Blue paint dripped from the ends of his hair, a trail of different colors in his wake while he rushed towards Namjoon. 

“What happened to you?” He couldn’t help but laugh, seeing Taehyung’s usually bright demeanor had been replaced with one of annoyance. 

“She happened!” Taehyung cried out, pointing to a girl across the campus yard with equally bright amounts of orange paint on her. She shot a middle finger his way and turned towards the girl’s dance hall. 

He turned back to Namjoon, “Can I shower at your place? I really don’t want to walk all the way to mine.” 

“Uh, yeah. I’ll give you my key, I’ve got a date.” Namjoon said, pulling out his keys and slipping his house key off the key ring. He dropped it into Taehyung’s red colored hands, sighing and rubbing his face from annoyance once he realized the apartment would be messy when he got home. 

“A date, huh?” 

“Well not really,” Namjoon and Taehyung walked somewhat briskly, ignoring the stares of passerby, “I’m tutoring her, but she likes me.” 

“And you like her?” Taehyung, ever so curious, walked passed the turn to Namjoon’s apartment to get an answer. 

“Go get cleaned up before the Dean spots you.” Namjoon turned back with a smirk, watching his younger friend roll his eyes. His shoes squelched as he walked, signaling the paint had made it’s way down into his socks. 

After the first tutoring session ended, Namjoon was sure to set up the next. Then the next, then the next. He found your reluctance to continue with tutoring sessions after he called your crush out somewhat cute. 

He had yet to bring it up again, instead opting to watch you while you drank way more water than you needed and stared at his lips while he explained formulas. Whether you believed it or not, he did intend on teaching you what you needed to know to pass the class. He knew you were absorbing the information, so he didn’t necessarily mind when he saw you licking your lips subconsciously while he slipped his jacket off his broad shoulders. 

Nonetheless, he felt that you were doing well. 

As far as class went, both of you always seemed to know when to look at each other. The professor would be droning on about topics that you and Namjoon had already covered, so you rested your head on the desk. Namjoon would mouth words to you, usually ‘pay attention’, but you knew he was always making sure you were okay. 

One particular class, Namjoon tapped his leg impatiently while he waited for you to enter the room. His favorite part of the day was seeing what you were wearing, because everything you wore seemed to compliment your shape in the best way. Not that he didn’t look before, but now that he knows you on a bit more personal level, he didn’t constantly tell himself it was wrong to look. 

When you finally did enter the room, your tight leggings and red heels made you look like a goddess. After that, his feelings were set in stone.

His plan today was to tutor you, as always, but then he wanted to make you feel good. After having spent so much time with you over the past couple weeks, he saw your personality blossom and suddenly he liked more than just your body. As he got to know you, he wanted you. More and more. 

He just had to make you beg for it. 

Namjoon knocked on your door, hearing squealing from behind the thick metal. A girl he didn’t recognize opened the door, leaning against the door frame. “Well hello there, I’ve heard so much about-” 

Just as she was about to finish her sentence, your hands snaked up from behind her and covered her mouth, yanking her backward and away from the door. 

“You said you’re leaving, Tamara. So leave.” You gestured, pointing out the door. Namjoon slid to the side, seeing her friend leave while sending a wink his way. He chuckled, waiting for you to invite him in. 

Your house was small, quaint, and old. It felt like you, though. Namjoon could tell you decorated, bits and pieces of things he learned you liked scattered throughout each room. 

He took a moment to look around while you told him to sit at the table, his finger running along the pictures on the walls. When you reentered the room, your hair was now pulled up and the bright blue fluffy pajama pants donned on your waist with a black tank top. 

“Sorry, it’s my house and I hate not wearing comfortable clothes in it.” You explained, crossing your leg and sitting on the chair across from him. 

You knew what Namjoon was playing at. After your third tutoring session, you noticed he became increasingly. . . sexy. Not that he wasn’t sexy before because you couldn’t deny your attraction, but the shirts became tighter, the hair was always styled, and his smirk. That damn smirk.

It was there, on his face. All the time. It was driving you absolutely insane. His tongue darted out to lick his lips and everything he said was so smart. 

Namjoon saw your wardrobe change, ignoring your skin peaking out from your tank top. “I can’t fault you for wanting to be comfortable.” He finally manages. 

You two got right to work, your eyes reading the numbers on the page. Namjoon leaned on the table, getting right into tutor mode and explaining a book he read that helped him understand advanced equations. 

You wrote down the book name, rubbing your forehead to get rid of your headache. Despite finally beginning to understand everything, your head still hurt at the prospect of taking the test in a few weeks. 

A couple hours later, your notebook was officially full. You tossed the pen onto the table, stretching your arms, “Yay! Done for the day!” 

Namjoon shut his own book, “I think we’re done forever.” 

“What?” You suddenly began to panic, did you do something to scare him away? Sure offering for him to tutor at your house was nerve-racking, but you didn’t think that he wouldn’t like it. 

“We’ve covered pretty much everything on the test. All you have to do is remember what I taught you, and then you’ll be good.” Namjoon stood, sliding his books haphazardly into his back pack. He slung it over his shoulder, giving you that same dimpled smile you had grown to love. 

“Wait- I know everything?” 

“Well not everything, but enough,” He grinned, “I’ll see you in class, (Y/N).” 

Namjoon turned to walk away and suddenly he was paranoid. He wanted you to call after him, to stop him and tell him to stay. However, as he made it closer to the door and began to slip his shoes on, he still hadn’t heard your call. 

He paused for a moment, a sigh leaving his lips while he turned his back and squeezed the doorknob in his hands. 

“Wait!” 

There you were.

“Let me make you dinner! You know, as a thanks for teaching me so well.” You said, coming into view. Namjoon turned around, “Dinner?” 

“Yes! I- I have steak that I was saving for Friday but I could make it now.” Your words became quieter as your spoke, your hand rubbing your arm nervously. There was no way that you wanted him to leave yet, and you weren’t sure how else to thank him. 

“I like steak.” Namjoon said, slipping his shoes back off and laying his back pack on the recliner beside the door. You grinned, letting out a nervous laugh, beckoning him into the living room. 

“Make yourself comfy and I’ll cook for you.” 

“Why don’t I help you?” Namjoon offered, following you while you walked out. You tilted your head to the side, “You can cook?” 

Namjoon, for the first time in a while, felt a blush creep on his cheek. The way you looked up at him, expectant and suddenly excited, made his head spin. He actually had to admit something that he couldn’t do to someone who he was trying to impress, “I didn’t say I could cook. I said I would help.” 

You giggled, “I’ll have you toss the salad.” 

“I like the sound of that.” Namjoon teased, following you into the kitchen. You began to prep everything, Namjoon watching in awe while you moved around the kitchen with ease. 

After setting a pan onto the open flame, you turned and connected your phone to the speaker and flipped on your cooking playlist. Namjoon, impressed with your taste in music, continued to watch you as you started dancing along to the beat. 

The sear of the steak against the hot pan was a welcoming sound, Namjoon’s mouth suddenly watering as he saw you toss butter and thyme into the pan. Your voice sang along with the song, your movements fluid. 

“You have a beautiful voice!” Namjoon called over the music, watching your face turn red. He sat on the other side of the island, waiting patiently for instruction. As the steaks cooked, you reached into the fridge and pulled out a head of lettuce, setting it down in front of Namjoon and rummaging through the lower cabinet for a bowl. 

Namjoon leaned over the counter, admiring your curves as your back peaked out from your tank top. The shirt you wore hugged you perfectly, he could see your heart-shaped ass squeezed into your pajama pants. Once he saw you stand up, he sat back down quickly but over corrected and managed to slip right off the stool. 

With a loud crash, he toppled over the stool beside him and let out a groan. 

“Are you okay?” You yelled, pausing your music and rushing around the counter. Namjoon’s eyes were shut tight, “I’m good.” 

“What were you doing?” You question, reaching your hand out. His large hand dwarfed yours, and you knew you weren’t any help to pull him up but you still tugged on his arm nonetheless. 

He smiled sheepishly, “I was just trying to see what kind of bowl you were grabbing.” 

“Oh?” you watched him dust himself off, “why are you so interested in bowls?” 

“More like the girl who was holding the bowl.” 

“I knew you weren’t tutoring me just to help me,” you roll your eyes, the feeling you had in the pit of your stomach finally coming true, “so is making you steak a dumb idea? Would you prefer I suck your dick as thanks?” 

Namjoon was somewhat shocked by your cool tone, watching you flip the steaks and almost cringing at the loud searing returning. Although he liked the words that came out of your mouth, he would have preferred if it came out in a moan. Something about the way you refused to look him in the eye caused him to swallow nervously. 

“N- no, I didn’t expect an extravagant thanks. The steaks will be fine.” He explained, sighing softly and allowing his face to fall into his hands. 

Silence fell over the two of you, Namjoon suddenly missing the blaring music that filled his ears 10 minutes ago. He nervously listened as you explained how to make the salad. He did so quietly, his hands carefully shredding the lettuce then mixing the ingredients to make the vinaigrette. 

You rolled your neck, exhaling through your nose. When you heard him admit his interest in you, you immediately wanted to hide yours. Sure, your feelings were reciprocated but he was a TA, he was basically your teacher. You couldn’t do anything with him, he’s likely the one to by grading your test. If anyone found out, favoritism would be called even if you did get everything right. 

“I’m sorry, I must have read you wrong earlier.” Namjoon’s voice sliced through the silence. His hands held the whisk loosely, dipping his pinky in to make sure the vinaigrette tasted good. 

“No, you didn’t.” You spoke carefully, pulling out plates and setting the steaks on each plate. 

“Would you be upset if I said I was confused?” Namjoon felt like he had to walk on eggshells. Sure, you didn’t necessarily yell at him earlier but he was much more careful of every word he said. 

“We can’t do anything, Namjoon,” you cut up a couple of hard boiled eggs and threw it into the bowl of salad, “you’re my TA. It’d be inappropriate. Believe me, I’ve been imagining going down on you for ages but it’s just not in the cards.” 

This whole conversation was so mature, Namjoon wasn’t used to so much honesty from women and he certainly didn’t expect it from you. Especially since you denied your interest in him so vehemently on the first day. It was new territory, he never had a problem waning women in his direction before.  

“Teacher’s Assistant or not, I still feel like we’d be good. Besides, I’m only your TA for a couple more months.” Namjoon said, finally tossing the salad together. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Because I like you. Genuinely. You’re smart, funny, and one hell of a gorgeous girl.” Namjoon explained, using tongs to lay the salad on the plate beside the steak. 

You smiled at his compliment, grabbing forks and knives out of the drawer. Initially you planned on eating at the table but you decided to stand at the island, sliding a plate over to Namjoon and watching him cut his steak and eat. He moaned at the taste, gesturing wildly at his plate while he chewed. 

“This shit is immaculate.” 

After a few moments, Namjoon had eaten half his steak and you finished your salad. You found a good moment to speak again, “You’re saying you want something more than sex?” 

“The sex would be nice, but I’d like to take you out on a date as well,” he takes another bite, “dinner and dessert.” 

You chewed slowly, thinking over his words carefully. It was true, you’d only have to hide it for a couple months. That is if everything lasted that long. You looked him up and down, weighing the pros and cons. As far as you were concerned, there couldn’t be a con. 

If anything, dating him even briefly would be fun. A college romance. 

“What would be the dessert?” You questioned, taking his now empty plate and slipping it into the sink. 

He wiped his mouth with a napkin, revealing a devilish smirk when he was done. “Well, you of course.” 

You inhaled, watching him stand from his stool and walk around the island. “That is, if you want to be my dessert.” 

Finally, you nodded. Namjoon took your nod as permission, leaning down carefully and pressing a small kiss to your lips. You could taste the raspberry vinaigrette on his tongue when he slipped it gently between your lips. His hand held the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your soft exposed skin. 

Nothing about how he looked could prepare you for the sudden arousal you felt just at his touch. His hands were large, you wanted them all over your body but the stayed at the back of your neck. 

He gave no hint of taking it any further, pulling away just as softly as he started. His lips pressed a kiss to each of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose before pulling away completely. 

Your eyes fluttered back open once you felt his touch leave your body, and then you felt cold everywhere but where he once held you. “Thank you for the dinner, (Y/N).” 

“Wait! You don’t get to get me all hot and bothered and then leave after kissing me!” You yelled, calling after him while he once again made his way to your front door. He paused, turned, and grinned, “Believe me, there is nothing I want more than to bend you over the counter and fuck you into oblivion. I just- I don’t want to mess it up before it even starts.” 

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying desperately to find the words you wanted to say. Your mind was reeling with him, even though it was only a few seconds, his kiss was the most sensual thing you had ever experienced in your entire life. 

“I don’t think fucking me over the counter would mess anything up.” You replied, both shy and ready to rip your clothes off at the same time. 

Namjoon’s cock twitched in his pants at your words, swallowing. “So you’re okay with me fucking you before I take you on a date?” 

“Namjoon,” the way you said his name, desperation rolling off the tip of your tongue, turned him on more than anyone ever has, “I’m begging you to fuck me.” 

That’s what he wanted to hear. 

Namjoon rushed back over to you, his hands at your hips and gripping them roughly in his fingers. His lips were much more rushed, hard against yours. His teeth captured your bottom lip, tugging it gently. 

You grinned at the feeling building in your core, his strong hands lifting you onto the counter. He rested between your legs, only pulling away to take his shirt off of his body. His golden skin shined beneath the lights of your kitchen, your eyes scanning him for just a moment before bringing him down to your lips again. 

You lifted your hips enough for him to slide your pants down your legs. You wrapped them around his hips, grinding softly against him. The whines that left your mouth were sinful and it took everything in Namjoon not to cum just to the sound of your voice.

You pulled away, breathless. Your lips latched onto his neck, biting and sucking harshly.

“Still want to go down on me?” Namjoon grinned. 

You didn’t hesitate in dropping off the counter and onto your knees, unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them down his legs. Before moving on, you removed your Tank top from your body, your chest bouncing while you excitedly moved. 

Namjoon’s mouth went dry as he spotted your hard nipples, wanting desperately to latch his lips around them. 

Urgency was felt between the two of you, both of you waiting to feel the rush of pleasure. You pulled his cock out from his jeans, already hard and ready for your lips to wrap around it. You pumped it a few times, smearing precum across the tip before looking up at him through your lashes. 

His hand stroked your hair softly, giving you a subtle nod and urging you to continue. Finally, you licked a long stripe on the underside of his pulsing cock and hearing him moan loudly. You couldn’t help but moan back, watching him throw his head back. 

It was the perfect size, you were able to swallow his cock with ease. Your eyes began to water when he held your head all the way down, burying your nose in his pelvic bone. 

His chest was heaving, and you had never felt sexier. 

Even though you were only going down on him, you still felt pleasure in giving him pleasure. The way his hips tutted into your mouth, shoving his member further down your throat, had you reeling. You slipped your free hand between your legs, rubbing harshly on your clothed clit. 

Your hips lifted and dropped while you tried to find the best angle, you knew you could come just from sucking Namjoon dry. 

“Fuck, you feel so good baby.” Namjoon cried out, watching as his cock thrust in and out of your swollen lips. He continued to guide your head, your other hand dropping as he began to fully fuck your mouth. 

He noticed where your hands were, electrifying pleasure rushing through his body at the sight of you rubbing your clit beneath him. “If you don’t want me to cum on your tongue then I suggest stopping now.” 

There was no way you were stopping now, you felt yourself grow closer and closer to your release. As your movements sped up on your clit, you sucked harder. 

“Ah, ah! Princess please-” Namjoon pleaded, “(Y/N)...” Your name rolled off the tip of his tongue with a grunt.

As you felt your release wash over your body, cum sputtered out of Namjoon’s cock, coating your tongue and the back of your throat. He pulled out until the tip of his cock rested on your tongue, finishing off his orgasm. 

You knew you had soaked through your panties, but you had never came so hard just from touching someone. As Namjoon pulled away, you swallowed the bitter taste and looked up at his completely fucked out expression. 

“Holy shit.” He pulled you up, capturing your lips yet again. It shocked you, as every other man you had been with refused to kiss you after they had cum in your throat. “You are amazing.” 

“S- same to you.” You stuttered, your legs still weak from your release. 

Namjoon dipped his hand down your panties, shocked by the wetness enveloping his fingers. “You’re so wet.” He grinned, he knew he had an affect on you but he didn’t know it was this strong. 

He slid onto his knees, panic rushing over your features, “What are you doing?” 

“Well you made me feel good, now it’s your turn.” He explained, pulling your leg over his shoulder and slipping your panties to the side. 

“I already came...” You said shyly, Namjoon’s pupil’s blown at the sight of your soaked slit. 

“Really? Just from-” you nodded, seeing his shocked expression, “well you get to come again.” 

Before you had a second to gather your thoughts, Namjoon buried his face between your legs. Already weak from before, you felt yourself lean back on the counter for support while his tongue attacked your entrance. You gasped at the sudden feeling of his warmth, his fingers holding open your lips as he moved against you fervently. You don’t think you had ever came so quickly after another, but in seconds you found yourself releasing on his lips, feeling them turn into a smirk while he excitedly lapped up your juices. 

As you tried to gather yourself, you heard your front door unlock. Both of you shared a panicked look, Namjoon slipping his jeans back up his legs and doing the belt up quickly. You looked around, noticing your pants on the other side of the kitchen, and it was too late. 

You heard footsteps approach on the wooden floor, and Namjoon slid you behind him, hiding your unclothed torso. 

“Hey (Y/N) did your hot tutor le- oh my god.” Tamara was cut off by the scene in front of her, Namjoon pushing you to his back while you hid behind him. Peaking your head out, you let out an embarrassed laugh, “I thought you were spending the night at your boyfriend’s.” 

“You said he was just tutoring you and you had sex in our kitchen?” Tamara’s mouth dropped open as she looked around at various items of clothes thrown around. 

“That’s my bad,” Namjoon spoke up, his face warm. From the sex or the embarrassment, he wasn’t sure, “I couldn’t help myself.” 

Tamara only raised an eyebrow at him, shaking her head and turning away. 

You let out a breath, sighing and hugging Namjoon’s back. He chuckled, turning in your arms and hugging you back. “Well that was a fun ride.” 

“Joon,” you still hid your face from him, his laugh filling your ears, “we can’t have sex in my kitchen again.” 

“Awe,” he pouted, grabbing your chin and lifting to meet your eyes, “but I still haven’t bent you over the counter.” 

You gasped at his words, slapping his chest playfully before leaning away and slipping your shirt back on. He dressed himself as well, handing you your pants and watching you cover your gorgeous body. 

“Are you going to stay the night?” You question innocently, most wondering if you needed to grab more pillows for your bed. Namjoon smiled softly, his hands yearning to hold you again but he held himself back, opting to scratch his neck to keep himself busy instead.

“Do you want me to?” 

“It’d be nice.” You grinned, excited at the prospect of falling asleep in his arms. 

Namjoon nodded, following you to your bedroom. 

~*~*~ 

The next morning was busy. You both woke up late, mostly because every time Namjoon’s alarm went off he snoozed it. 

The rest of the night was spent in your bedroom, talking about your aspirations while a movie played in the background. Your fingers clasped together, your heads on the same pillow. He never seemed to run out of things to talk about with you, and for that he was grateful. Never has a woman been so intellectually stimulating to him. 

When you did finally manage to tear yourself out of bed, Namjoon reached out for you in his half-asleep state. “Come back,” his voice was deep but still came out in a whine, “we can skip today.” 

“No we can’t,” you murmur, laying down beside him and pushing his hair from his face, “I already missed my first two classes. The next one is the one we both have to go to, if you and I miss it on the same day it’ll be suspicious.” 

Namjoon sighed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up. You pulled an outfit out from your closet, undressing and changing. Namjoon still sat on the bed, watching you in awe while he learned your morning routine. 

“What’s that perfume you use?” He asked after a moment, remembering the distinct strawberry scent that he always smelled radiating off of your clothes. You held up a perfume, “Gucci flora, it’s my favorite.” You smiled. 

Finally, he got up and slipped his clothes from yesterday on. You cringed, “You’re gonna have to go to class in the same clothes as yesterday.” 

He shrugged, “I’m sure no one will notice.” 

Namjoon pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, fluffing up the back of your hair for you. 

So quickly did he fall into you. Everything about you was so captivating, down to the way you brushed your teeth. He knew from the first day you walked into that classroom that you were a heartbreaker, and he just prayed every day since he started tutoring you that he was an exception. He wondered how deeply you felt about him, or whether it was on a surface level. Trying not to think about negative things, he shook his head and followed you out of your house. 

When you both made it to the science building, Namjoon waited a moment to walk in after you did. As you sat down at your seat, you couldn’t help but watch Namjoon as he slipped into TA mode. Ready for him was a stack of papers to grade, and you knew you weren’t getting much of a look from him today. Either way, you were happy with the progress the two of you had made in one short night, not that you were expecting any of it to happen. 

The class went by a lot slower than you wanted, and it wasn’t until the professor dismissed you did you realize you had almost fallen asleep while you watched yet another video on Tycho Brahe. 

Everyone filed out of the classroom, and as you got up to leave you stole a glance to Namjoon. He dawned a pair of glasses and read intently on whatever he had in his hand. 

As the professor spoke to a student at the door, you made your way over to Namjoon, tapping your finger on the desk quietly to get his attention. He looked up, slipping off the glasses from his face and grinned, “Well hello gorgeous.” 

You blushed at his words, “I’m going to head back home, you can come if you want?” 

“Hm, I think I’m going to the arcade with my friend. I can come by after that?” He suggested, and you tried to hide your disappointment. Namjoon could sense it, “I’ll come by tonight for sure. Do you like take out?” 

You nodded, “I’d like that.” 

“Miss (Y/L/N)! I’ve seen your improvement and I’m glad, Namjoon has certainly helped you.” The professor walked over to you to, pulling you out of the trance that was Namjoon’s deep brown eyes. 

“Uh, yeah he’s certain good at teaching,” you stuttered, “I’m glad he offered to tutor me.” 

The professor nodded, “Well like I said before, I can’t wait to give you that A.” He patted your shoulder, and you took that as an opportunity to slip out of the room. Namjoon waved to you before discussing something with the professor. You watched for a moment, biting your lip then walking down the hallway and out the door. 

When you made it back to your house, your roommate sat on the couch in her pajamas. You rose an eyebrow, “I thought you had a lecture at 2 today.” 

“I skipped it,” She shrugged, “where’s your boytoy?” 

“At the arcade with a friend of his,” you explained, plopping down beside her and cringing at some reality show she watched. She paused occasionally to explain why some person was yelling at another and you tried to listen to the best of your ability but you couldn’t help but think back to last night. 

Sure, you enjoyed the physicality of everything but once you two began talking about things other than Astrophysics, you learned a whole lot more about him than you expected to. 

His love for rap and music in general was heart-warming, mentioning briefly on how he wished to one day drop a mixtape and maybe get signed. You encouraged him even though you hadn’t heard a single second of anything he’s ever written. Either way, you knew that he could do it because there wasn’t anything in the world you could imagine him being bad at. 

When he asked you about your dreams, you weren’t sure how to answer. You had always taken a, ‘it is what it is’ approach to everything. Yes, you did preemptively take Business Marketing as a gateway into adulthood, but as far as everything else went, you were unsure. 

Eventually you managed a small, “I’m happy to be alive.” 

Namjoon smiled, enjoying the simplicity of your answer. 

You shook your head from thoughts of last night, wiping the grin off your face. 

Just as you saw Tamara drift off to sleep, your phone lit up. 

friend is being lame, can I come over? 

Your heart was giddy, excited to see the man who couldn’t leave your mind. Quickly, you responded. 

please do

You locked your phone and waited on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through the TV while Tamara snored softly. You sighed, wondering if you should tell her to leave for a bit. You decided against it, knowing that he has had men over many times when you were just a thin wall away. 

You hopped up at the sound of a gentle knock on the door, practically throwing the door open to see Namjoon. His smile stretched across his face, “Hi baby.” 

You pulled him into the house, shushing him when you walked passed the living room. He chuckled softly, and when you were down the hall and in your room, he slipped his jacket off of his shoulders. 

“Soo,” you were suddenly shy, realizing you weren’t sure how tonight was going to go, “how was the arcade.” 

“Dumb,” Namjoon replied honestly. You noticed he went home and finally changed from yesterday’s clothes, a tight black T-shirt now hugging his skin. He hopped on the bed beside you, “my friend refuses to let anyone ruin his high score.” 

You giggled, “Ah KSJ? Some girl in my Marketing Research class has been talking about him a lot.” 

Namjoon nodded, “That man has more of an affect than he realizes.” 

It was quiet for a moment, and you watched while he adjusted himself onto your bed. He closed his eyes, and it amazed you at how quickly he became comfortable with you. He was already treating you like you had been together for a while, and you couldn’t complain. You enjoyed skipping the ‘get to know me’ phase, because you know as time goes on you will learn more about each other and in better ways than the standard first date. 

Still, even though you had already done some of the most intimate things with the man, you found yourself in awe of him. His chest rose and fell softly, and you realized that you hadn’t kissed him since this morning. You yearned for his touch but tried desperately not to come off as needy. 

You laid beside him, just far enough away for him to notice. Namjoon opened an eye, “You okay?” 

“I’m good, yeah.” You smiled, swallowing nervously. 

“How come you’re not touching me?” His question was loaded, though it came off innocent. His eyes were closed again, waiting for your verbal response. His hands, clasped behind his head, made his biceps flex beneath the tight black fabric. 

Earlier hesitation gone, you leaned your head onto his shoulder, feeling his arm move and fall around you as if he had been doing this for years. 

You snuggled into him, your eyes growing heavy. 

“Did I really come over here just to nap?” Namjoon asked outloud, more to himself than you. You nodded against him, feeling yourself fall asleep on his chest. 

~*~*~ 

Namjoon hadn’t been around since he fell asleep with you, and you assumed with everything going on that he was busy. He was sure to send a few texts your way a day, being sure to let you know that he can’t stop thinking about you. Even in class, you didn’t talk much but you didn’t mind, focusing on things that you needed to. 

Now it was Saturday night, your legs crossed on your bed and copious amounts of homework and papers surrounding you. Almost finishing, your hands filled out each question when you heard your ringtone throughout the room. 

“Hello?” You answered without looking, putting on your customer service voice out of habit from many years ago. 

“I still haven’t bent you over the table.” Namjoon sounded through, music coming through the speaker. You gasped at his words, immediately dropping your pencil, “Are you drunk?” 

“No,” he giggles, shushing someone else beside him, “I just want you. This bar is boring without you.” 

“You haven’t drank with me though?” You tease, questioning his motives for calling you. He shouted to someone in the corner, telling them to stop talking shit, “I bet you’re sexy when you’re drunk. Not that you aren’t sexy all the time, but I think you’d be even more wet than before if you drank a little with me.” 

“I really hope you aren’t saying these things in front of people, Joon.” You scold, but you can’t help but feel the heat between your legs at his words. You imagined him at a table with his friends, his hand over the speaker while he spoke dirty words into your ears. 

“I’m coming over.” Namjoon said, and he hung up without another word. 

You look around, quickly cleaning up your papers and books, sliding them onto your night stand. You rushed to the bathroom, brushing your teeth quickly. You weren’t exactly sure what to expect, so you changed from your sweats and into a satin nightgown. You studied your reflection carefully, shaking your head and changing into something else. 

Black and red lingerie rested on your body, and you knew you were finally ready. As if expecting that you were ready, Namjoon knocked on the door. You rushed to the door, the knocking not stopping until you were opening it. He took a moment to look at your scantily clad body, an audible groan slipping from his lips. 

He was drunk, or at least tipsy. He’s eyes were clouded over and every inch of your body only turned him on.

No words were exchanged, only Namjoon grabbing your face in his large hands and kissing you passionately. He pushed you into your house, his lips not leaving yours. You silently thanked your roommate for leaving, not having to worry about be walked in on until the morning. He already had the layout of your house memorized, carefully navigating through your hallway until he reached your bathroom. 

Confused, you pulled away when you heard the door creek, “What are you-” 

“I want you in the shower,” Namjoon said, already ripping off his shirt, “and as much as I would love to fuck you in that tiny little outfit, I like when you’re naked even more.” 

It didn’t take much to convince you. He stumbled out of his jeans, no boxers to be seen underneath. You watched him with a smirk on your face, his hand turning the shower on and testing the temperature. 

When he turned back to you, it felt like something switched in him, “Why aren’t you undressed?” 

Your core twitched at the demanding tone of his voice. He wasn’t hard yet, he held himself off from stroking himself until he saw that you were wet and ready. 

You unclasped your bra, slipping it from around your shoulders. He grabbed your arm, guiding you to the water and silently asking for you to test it. When you felt the warm liquid surround your hand, you nodded and stepped out of your panties. 

Without giving you much time to adjust, Namjoon was behind you, pulling the shower head off of the mount and switching it to massage mode. 

“I thought you wanted to fuck me?” You questioned, such dirty words falling from your sinful mouth. Namjoon smiled down at you, his cock rutting against your backside in anticipation, “I do, but I want to make you feel good as well.” 

He brought the shower head over the front of your body, running the water over everywhere he would kiss if he were in bed. Your tits were perky, a perfect handful for Namjoon to grab and tug at while the water moved down lower. 

His feet kicked yours apart, spreading your legs ever-so-slightly and allowing the harsh water jets to hit your clit directly. Immediately, your legs grew weak. Namjoon wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you up while the jets pounded against your clit. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned, Namjoon’s cock twitching from behind you, “more.” 

Suddenly, he felt much more sober than previously, “What was that, baby?” 

“More, please. More.” Was all you could manage out, your head thrown back onto his shoulder while you clawed backward, desperate to touch him in any way you possibly could. When your hands settled on the back of your neck, you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your orgasm. 

Just as quickly as it started, it stopped. Namjoon pulled away, his lips attacking your neck while you whined from the lack of sensation against you. The water jets was replaced with his fingers, “I can’t take it anymore. I have to be inside you.” 

Catching your breath, you turned to him and kissed him harshly. Your nails raked down his abs, feeling the muscles clench at every touch against him. You gripped his now hard cock in your manicured hand, pumping it up and down quickly. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” If he could tease you, you could tease him right back, “you might cum too quickly. I don’t know if you could last inside of me.” 

“Cocky, huh? Bend over. Now.” Namjoon demanded, not having any of it. As you turned around, your head under the water, Namjoon rubbed the head of his cock up and down your slit, collecting up your wetness and groaning at the feeling of you finally so close to him. 

He didn’t ask if you were ready like he wanted to, but the feeling was overwhelming, just running his cock over you was enough to send him into the most intense rush of pleasure he’s ever felt in his entire life and he forgot how to move his tongue to create the words running through his head. 

All he could do was slowly sink into you, earning a delicious moan from you. You gripped onto the railing in front of you, his length filling you and stretching you out in the best way possible. Even with the water running over both of you, you were numb to everything that wasn’t him. His fingertips digging into your hips, his length moving in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. In that moment, your entire being was consumed by him and him alone. 

“More.” You moaned, much like earlier except your voice was filled with much more need than before. Namjoon couldn’t help himself, though, continuing his slow thrusts. Whines, glorious and loud, filled the shower, echoing off of the walls. Namjoon was quiet, just listening to you while your knuckles turned white from gripping the handles. 

“Fuck!” you shout, letting go of the railing and leaning up, just enough for Namjoon’s hands to return to your breasts, massaging them as he finally began to speed up his motions. 

“I love that you’re so loud,” Namjoon manages, grunting while he spoke, “tell me more. Tell me how much you like it.” 

“You feel so good, Namjoon,” you look back at him, his eyes screwed shut and his hair soaked, droplets of water dripping from the ends of his hair, “you’re so big, I love your- I love-” your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You weren’t able to form anymore words as Namjoon’s cock hit just the right place to have you rolling in pleasure. 

“Come on, babygirl. You have to tell me.” His thrusts were faster, sloppier, and his fingers found their way back down to your clit. His calloused fingers spread your lips, moving in a figure 8 while he timed his thrusts with each twist of his finger. 

“I want you to fill me up!” You cry out, and you knew you weren’t helping Namjoon in anyway from the way your legs gave out. His arms held you close though, keeping you up so easily.

Namjoon buried his face in your shoulder, “You’re so fucking hot, please tell me you’re close.” His words were muffled but you could understand him loud and clear.

“Mmhmm.” You managed, biting your lip. 

“Say it.” 

“I’m going to come,” you moan, and then your release washed over your body in waves. Everything was too much, the way you came undone beneath him and the feeling of you squeezing his cock. He was a mess, and after a few more thrusts, he pulled his cock out of you and released onto your ass, letting you go in the process. 

You fall forward, grabbing the railing yet again for support and feeling his hot cum drench your lower half. With your orgasm still running its course, you felt your knees buckle while you dropped. 

Namjoon was quick to reach forward and catch you, setting you down on the ledge of the top and moving the hair out of your face. “Are you okay baby?” 

You nodded, “I’m more than okay.” 

Namjoon grinned, leaning down and kissing your cheeks, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

After cleaning you up, Namjoon massaged shampoo and conditioner throughout your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of coconut. Afterward, he even brushed your hair while you were wrapped in a towel, then finally handing you his shirt to sleep in. 

“So,” you said later that night, stroking his hair while you listened to music, “we going to go on that date you said you wanted to take me out on?”

“Breakfast tomorrow?” He looks up at you, that dimpled smirk stretching across his face. 

“I’d like that.” You grin, leaning down and giving him one of many kisses. 

[potatocrab]

Salvation is a Last Minute Business (17/18)

Chapter 17: Lose More Slowly

The wide network of Valentine Detective Agency’s allies meet to perfect the plan to infiltrate MIT. On the eve of ‘battle’, Madelyn is apprehensive about one last confession from Deacon. With no time to waste, the fight is taken to Cambridge where the Institute can be exposed once and for all.

“That’s not the way to win.”—Jeff, as played by Robert Mitchum

“Is there a way to win?”—Kathie, as played by Jane Greer

“There’s a way to lose more slowly.” (Out of the Past, 1947)

[read on Ao3] | [chapter masterpost]

June 16th, 1958

It took just over two weeks to solidify the plan to infiltrate the Institute. It hardly mattered that Madelyn and Nick—with Deacon and the Railroad’s help—had previously breached Fort Hagen. This operation was an entirely different beast, that required an entirely different set of skills and resources. There would be no undercover sneaking, or witty aliases this time—just a dangerous game of cat and mouse—a game they all hoped to survive.

After weeks of organizing, Nick decided there was no point in waiting any longer and called a meeting at the agency to be held the evening before their planned attack. The usual group had increased exponentially, with the allies they had gained in the last several months joining them, each with their own part to play. It was remarkable to see everyone in one place, spread out in the lobby (because there was no logistical way to fit so many people in Nick’s tiny office), and it made Madelyn think that maybe—just maybe—they had a shot at finding out the truth behind the Institute’s schemes.

She sat, perched on the edge of Ellie’s receptionist desk so that she could have a clear view of the room, scribbling down the summarized events of what was to occur the following morning. The plan was carefully detailed and outlined in a series of reports and dictated memos, but there was no harm in writing it out one last time. The secretary was working overtime—literally—bouncing from one cluster of people to the next, offering refills of strong coffee or spirits. But nearly everyone was focused on Nick and his giant, wheeled chalkboard of information, and the way it outlined the case’s timeline, all the way back to 1947. The detective was in rare form—sharp, focused, and with a fiery determination Madelyn hadn’t seen in months, or maybe years. Coat discarded and sleeves rolled up, he talked through the details, and didn’t stop for a drink or cigarette.

“…which brings us to the incident at city hall,” Nick gestured to the Publick Occurrences newspaper clipping before stepping away to finally grab a quick sip of his whiskey that sat next to Madelyn. “Did you ever find out why the Boston P.D. were a no-show?”

Sergeant Danny Sullivan, fresh out from the hospital after recovering from his injuries sustained at said incident, sat in a nearby chair. He nodded, looking displeased with the information he was about to share. “It was all Mayor McDonough’s fault, buying off officers. Which means, by proxy, they were paid off by MIT, if we’re still in agreement about who was—is—pulling the strings.”

“Not for very much longer,” Nick replied.

“I’ve had to spend the last two weeks cooped up at New England sending a courier back and forth to the courthouse to perform background checks on my entire squad to make sure none of them have connections to the university,” Sullivan described, shaking his head with a deep scowl.

“Cheer up, Danny Boy,” Hancock quipped, leaned back in the chair at the Sergeant’s side. “At least there’s some good news.”

“Please John,” Nick groused, maybe wishing the younger McDonough brother was still recuperating from his own gunshot wound. “Enlighten us.”

“Made a house call with Bobby to the deputy district attorney last night,” Hancock explained, motioning over to where the former mercenary was fixing his own cup of coffee at the kitchenette. “Did you know that his kid and little Duncan go to preschool together?”

Nick wasn’t amused, and his patience was wearing thin. Though, it always did with the would-be politician. “How cute.”

“Right? And there I was, thinking I’d have to resort to blackmail,” the other man replied.

MacCready laughed as he leaned against the galley, taking a sip from his cup before wincing at whatever he’d poured into the porcelain. “You still blackmailed him.”

“Mild blackmail,” Hancock contended with a shrug, ignoring the way Nick and Madelyn shot him double looks of disappointment and concern. “Agree to disagree. The good news is we sweet talked that stiff into signing a genuine warrant. With somethin’ like that, we’re made in the shade.”

He handed the folded document from his jacket pocket to Sergeant Sullivan, who took his time in reading it over. Nick was still skeptical, leaning against the desk near Madelyn while he slowly nursed his drink.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” the detective urged. “Does it look legitimate?”

“As far as I can tell,” Sullivan affirmed, passing the warrant to Nick to read.

Madelyn glanced over his shoulder, glossing over the familiar legal jargon before focusing on the signature at the bottom—it surely looked like the deputy district attorney’s scrawl. She didn’t think either Hancock or MacCready would jeopardize the case with a little bit of forgery. Not that blackmail was any better, but she could sooth it over with the man who was technically her boss later.

“Well, at least now we have a valid reason to get into the building,” Nick spoke, handing the document back to the Sergeant for safekeeping. “Wouldn’t hurt to have backup on standby, just in case.”

The focus shifted to Preston Garvey who was smiling his thanks as Ellie poured him a new cup of coffee. Standing next to him was Lieutenant Danse—ever the reluctant participant—who had refused a seat and a drink. The only reason why he agreed to assist was for ‘the greater good’. The Institute and their experiments had no place in the United States military, and he was determined to see them exposed for what they truly were.

“The Minutemen are already in position throughout Cambridge,” Preston explained. “Just give me the word, and they can be ready in a minute’s notice.”

The Lieutenant sneered. “We’ll root out those Institute bastards, one way or another.”

“That’s the spirit,” Piper remarked from her spot near the front door. “I’ve done my own reconnaissance around Cambridge and the campus with Mister Neurotic here.”

Tinker Tom sat in a nearby seat, spinning his body in increasingly faster circles until the reporter reached out to stop him. He gazed up at her with wide eyes. “Is that me?”

Piper looked as though she could snap his neck but relaxed with a deep sigh. “Based on his readouts, and those blueprints, we were able to find an unmarked sewer entrance near the eastern banks of the Charles River.”

“Why does it always have to be a sewer?” Madelyn mumbled under her breath, causing Nick to smirk.

“Good work, Piper,” he remarked, the closest he’d gotten to happy all evening. “This means we can go ahead with splitting up into smaller teams.”

“Better if you and Blue take the sneaky route while the rest of us cover your tails,” she gestured to the circle of people, her eyes lingering on the figure leaning against the far corner of the room. “That is, if we can trust these blueprints in the first place, and we aren’t about to send you into a trap.”

Madelyn frowned at Piper, wishing that after all this time her friend could be less cynical about the Railroad and their resources. Sure, their actions were still largely shrouded in mystery, but that didn’t equate to nefariousness. It was important to remember who the real enemy was. She let her eyes drift to where Deacon was standing near the doorway to her office—where he’d been standing all night, just silently listening and watching from behind his darkened shades. A slight shiver ran up her spine and intuition told her his attention was focused on her rather than the other occupants of the room.

“You can trust me,” he finally said, the weight of his words lost on everyone except her. Piper shrugged but didn’t make to argue any further. Madelyn smiled to herself as she broke her gaze away from his face, looking down at the writing on her notepad instead.

Nick stood, bringing the attention back to the timeline. “Let’s not get blind-sighted by the Institute.”

“We have a man to find. Kellogg,” he reminded the group, tapping the chalkboard where the scarred man’s picture hung. “More than that, we have a child to bring home to his parents. Shaun Perlman. I’d like to solve this, once and for all.”

Silent understanding fell over the room, but it didn’t last.

“A toast,” Hancock suddenly declared, raising his glass. “To the best damn detective this city’s ever seen,” he nodded towards Madelyn, grinning like he’d gone mad—maybe he had. “And behind every great man, is an even greater woman. To Valentine and Hardy!”

As it grew closer to midnight, the plans for the following day were solidified and the agency gradually emptied out. The participants would need a good night’s rest—if it were even possible—before they infiltrated the Institute in the morning. Nick and Madelyn saw their guests out, though the detective left her to walk with Deacon outside so they might have some privacy. Even then, she noted Drummer Boy waiting by a parked car with Tinker Tom inside, the two doing everything they could to pretend they weren’t watching the two.

“We’re heading back to the church for a rendezvous,” he explained, positioning himself so the others couldn’t necessarily see their exchange. “Somebody has to fill Desdemona and Glory in on all the nitty-gritty.”

“Is it safe for you all to travel in the same car?” she asked, peering over his shoulder. Call it paranoia, but she’d had enough close calls in the last six months to last a lifetime.  

Deacon softly chuckled, reaching out to gently wrap his fingers through the curls along the side of her face. “You’ve been spending too much time reading those detective novels, Charmer.”

“Or living in one.”  

He looked at her, and there was the unspoken question—will I see you tonight? She frowned a little and sensed his disappointment, even behind his shades. She grasped the hand at his side and brushed her thumbs across his knuckles in affectionate sweeps.

“I’m staying with Nick tonight,” Madelyn said, trying not to sound too sad about it. She mimicked his speech pattern. “Somebody has to make sure he actually sleeps tonight.”

Deacon offered a barely-there smile, which sent her thoughts into a tailspin. He moved his hand so he was softly cupping her cheek, the pad of his thumb ghosting down towards her lips. “What if I said that I had a secret to tell you?”

“What kind of secret?” Madelyn asked in response, her heartrate suddenly increasing at the possibilities. Slowly, the world around her started to fade away, and the only thing keeping her grounded was his touch.

“An important secret,” he answered, breath hot against her mouth.

It was very likely that he was playing some kind of game, all part of an elaborate ruse to get her to come home with him. What could possibly be more important than what she’d already learned about him—his appearance, his home, his name. Unless it was all a lie. Madelyn doubted that, even as a momentary pang shot through her heart. Deacon must’ve noticed the subtle change in her expression because he pulled away just enough, and quickly pushed up his glasses so that she could see his eyes. Their stormy grey-blue color were vibrant with emotion, so striking and intense that she felt overwhelmed. Secret immediately translated in her mind to confession.

Deacon drew her closer again, hand cradling the side of her face. “Madelyn, I—”

Her heart nearly stopped at the sound of her name—her real name—and she had to fight to stay standing as her knees wobbled. Then, she kissed him, if only to stop him from saying anything. Call it fear, call her a coward—she just couldn’t bear to hear the rest of that sentence, even if she was dying to scream it from the rooftops herself. He was surprised for a half-second before returning the kiss, angling them even more out of eyeshot from the loitering Railroad agents. Couldn’t see the boss-man (because face it, she knew the truth about that too) sharing a tender moment with his lady.

Madelyn pulled away just a fraction before they could get carried away in such a public setting and gripped his hand tight. “Cliché confessions spoken in the calm before the storm are a bad omen, don’t you think?”

Deacon blinked, temporarily stunned, but recovered well enough to flash a sideways smirk, one she couldn’t tell was forced or not. The last thing she wanted was to cause a rift between them when they needed each other’s support the most.

“You’re right,” he sighed wistfully, bordering on playing his emotions too thick. He readjusted his shades so they were where they belonged—at least for him. “Wouldn’t want to jinx it.”

The car horn behind them blared into the night and he turned, hand still clasped in hers to see Drummer Boy leaning into the driver’s car window with his arm poised to repeat the action. Tinker Tom was snickering, daring him to do it again. Despite her unease, Madelyn smiled. “Shouldn’t keep the boys waiting.”

He shook his head and brought her hand up so he could press a soft kiss to her knuckles. “Je t’adore.”

Madelyn knew that wasn’t what he really wanted to say, but it would have to do, for now. She kept her eyes on him the entire time as he walked away, shooing Drummer Boy away from the driver’s side door of their vehicle before getting in. Deacon regarded her for one last lingering moment as he started the car before slowly driving away. Within moments, Nick rejoined her on the sidewalk, following her line of sight down the stretch of road.

“Ready to go?”

She turned to face him as a wash of remorse came over her heart. Had she done the right thing? Madelyn studied her partner’s face and his bemused expression, eyebrow raised as he looked back at her with mild concern.

“Nick, have I ever told you that I love you?” she asked, just to see if she could say the words. Easy enough—now why couldn’t she say them to Deacon? Or have them spoken to her?

“Sure you’re saying that to the right fella?” Nick’s laughter died as soon as he noticed her melancholy state and drew closer to her, wrapping her up in a loose hug. He held her long enough, uncaring that they had somewhere to be. When he pulled away, he tilted her chin up with a few fingers and offered a fleeting smile. “Love you too, doll.” 

June 17th, 1958

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love wet socks?”

Deacon’s hushed voice echoed through the underground tunnel, barely audible over the rushing sound of water that flowed around them and beneath their feet. He was walking a few paces behind Madelyn while Nick advanced ahead, trying his best to ignore the spy’s outburst as he focused on following the makeshift map in his hand.

She glanced over her shoulder at him, narrowing her eyes at the shine from the flashlight he carried. “Once or twice, yes.”

“Wish I had the same idea as you, Charmer,” he sneered, flicking the light across her outfit. She had the foresight to wear the shoes that had already been damaged the last time she went walking through a sewer, and one of her older dresses that despite Codsworth’s cleanings, was still stained with questionable material. “Or is that some kind of bad omen?”

She instantly whipped back around so he wouldn’t see her disappointed frown, though judging by his silence, he knew he’d crossed a line by using those words. Madelyn knew she’d come to regret not letting him say what he wanted to—needed to—but did he have to be so cruel? At first, she was grateful for him to be at her side in this so-called final fight, relying on him for that extra bit of emotional strength and comfort he could provide so well. But now, she almost wished he had stayed topside with Piper and the others or gone with Sergeant Sullivan through the main entrance. His presence was only causing her emotional turmoil, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted.    

This time, Nick was the one to turn back to look at her, his scowl indicating that he’d heard their conversation. Madelyn knew he likely had a litany of strongly worded advice for the other man, but she shook her head, silencing him before he could even start. This was neither the time or place—not when they were quite literally in the belly of the beast.

“Should be a latch up ahead,” he said instead, turning back to lead the two down the dark passageway. It took a few more yards before they reached a ladder that led to a metal door, and if the map layouts were accurate as they had been so far, it would take them to a larger, less water-logged room. “Into the unknown.”

Nick didn’t wait for anyone to volunteer before climbing the metal rungs first, pausing at the latch to fiddle with the lock. “Watch your heads!”

Madelyn and Deacon sidestepped the padlock as it crashed into the shallow water at their feet, craning their heads upwards to watch as the detective disappeared through the newly opened hole. She anxiously looked to her Railroad partner, motioning for him to climb first, and he hesitated, passing her the flashlight before finally moving. There was some disappointment as she watched him ascend, secretly hoping there would be some teasing remark about insisting she go first so that he might sneak a peak up her skirt. Instead, the persistent silence between them started to break her heart. Madelyn thought about blurting out how she felt, but it hardly felt romantic. Rather, it felt stupid. Maybe she’d missed her chance. After how many missed opportunities over the last several weeks to tell him, now was when she desperately wanted to say those three little words.

I love you.

Okay, not so little. Talk about timing.

Nick’s face peered over the ledge and only then did she realize she’d been standing frozen, stuck in her thoughts. “What did I say about standing pretty?”

She forced a laugh and climbed up to meet them, allowing Deacon to hoist her up the rest of the way despite the fact his touch was like fire against her skin. His hand squeezed against her arm, thumb brushing along the soft underside of her wrist as he stared at her. It was delicate, as if she’d shatter if he pressed too hard. Madelyn lingered until she was sure he could feel the rapid beat of her pulse and slowly pulled away.

Nick pretended to have not seen the exchange, focused on the set of locked doors that led to various parts of the underground system. At the back of the storage room was a freight elevator—where it led was anybody’s guess. The detective consulted the folded-up blueprints again, twisting them around in his hands and tapping the sheet to signify where they were.

“If we take...this door,” he pointed west. “We’ll head further down into some kind of storage complex, and…”

“And what?” Madelyn asked, stepping further away from Deacon so she could peer at the carefully drawn diagrams on the paper.

Nick shrugged, clearly puzzled. “Not sure. Just looks like one big empty room according to this.”

She looked back to Deacon to see if he had anything to add, but he remained silent, doing nothing to help her nerves. She sighed. “I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

The hallway beyond the western door smelt sterile, reminiscent of a hospital, the lingering scent of alcohol threatening to burn her nostrils if she breathed in too deep. As they descended a narrow staircase, the stench intensified as their surroundings shifted from the drab to the pristine. For being underground, it felt like walking into a museum. It felt otherworldly, untouched by time.

“Damn,” Deacon finally spoke—breathed—as they stepped out onto the landing, which overlooked a seemingly never-ending room of storage containers, computers and other technology.

There were metal platforms connected to more observation stations, with staircases that led further into the depths of the underground bunker. The possibilities of what they might find were endless. Near the back, shadowed in darkness, was the faint glow of a reactor core—no wonder the Institute had been become so powerful, so quickly, all while boasting the use of clean energy.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Madelyn asked, perturbed by the slight humming that echoed through the large room.

“Do you have a Geiger counter?” Deacon asked, and she glanced at him, unsure if he was joking or not. He frowned. “Won’t be able to tell until we take a closer look.”

“Of course,” Nick grumbled. “Let’s split up, see what we can find in those rooms on the way over.”

Madelyn’s only comfort was that they could easily see each other as they walked along the platforms, but was still apprehensive, especially when both men removed their holstered weapons. It was more alarming to see Deacon armed, the pistol an unusual sight. Even in their most dangerous of operations, he’d relied on wits rather than steel. She had her own revolver, and quickly pulled it from underneath her skirts with a small flourish. With a silent nod, they each took a different path.

Madelyn reached a small alcove before the others, the tiny windowed room filled with filing cabinets and scattered paperwork across two desks. There was a stack of files that she idly flipped through, the words on the page confirming that the Institute had been performing or had been attempting to perform brain augmentations for years. As far as she could discern, the files contained information on potential targets—if the college had been successful in capturing them, or if something else had occurred. Many had been ultimately passed over for frivolous reasons, and the reports read like rejected job applicants rather than candidates for brainwashing. Her absentminded browsing stopped dead-cold when she came across an all too familiar name.

Madelyn nearly fainted at the picture pinned to the inside of the file. “Nate?”

“Now, isn’t this precious?”

She knew that voice without needing to turn around. It had been nearly two years, but she was instantly transported to Christmas Eve, 1946 and that dark, snowy, Boston Common alley where her husband was murdered. That same electric chill ran through her body—head to toe—rooting her to the spot. No amount of fear she’d experienced in the last six months could compare to the sensation crawling across her skin, threatening to close off her windpipe without so much as a gasp.

His footsteps slowly echoed against the metal flooring, drawing closer until she could feel his body heat radiating, circling around her form until he was in perfect view.  

“Kellogg,” she forced herself to say, gripping the gun at her side.

He grinned in that hauntingly familiar, devilish way, not surprised that she knew his name. “In the flesh.”

There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask—about Nate’s murder, about Shaun Perlman’s kidnapping, about all the other unsolved cases he was supposedly linked to. Was he really an Institute experiment gone wrong, or some kind of pawn? His very presence seemed to answer that last one loud and clear. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was reprimanding herself for not shooting first, and asking questions later. She’d made that mistake before and it nearly cost Nick his life—and had ended Jenny’s. That couldn’t happen now. Just as her hand twitched and she made to raise her revolver, he advanced towards her, pinning her against the glass window. The sound was loud enough to alert her partners where they stood yards away on sperate platforms.

“Charmer!”

“Madelyn!”

“How cute,” Kellogg taunted, the phrase familiar and gut wrenching all the same. “Who should I kill this time?”

He roughly pushed her aside so that she collapsed against one of the desks. As he left, he tossed a device over his shoulder that immediately filled the room with smoke, grey plumes billowing out into the main area. Madelyn clamped her eyes shut as she spluttered and coughed, struggling to pull herself to stand after smacking her head against the edge of the desk. She blindly reached for her gun and resigned herself to crawl to the doorway before using the railings to drag her body upright. To the left, she could see the faint outline of Nick’s trench coat but to the right, she could see two bodies—Kellogg and Deacon—scuffling along the walkway.

Without a second thought she forced herself to go—to run—back the way she came and to where they were. The smoke made it difficult to see clearly, but Deacon’s gun was gone—they were now fighting for Kellogg’s, swapping positions when one would gain the upper hand to pin the other to the guard railing. In the time it took Madelyn to rush over, Deacon found enough leverage to push the other man over the ledge, but Kellogg wouldn’t give up so easily. He held onto the railing with one hand and swung his other arm up to shoot. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, giving Madelyn little time to act.

“Deacon!” she shouted for him to move out of the way, raising her pistol so her sights were aimed directly on Kellogg’s scar. When he didn’t move, her mind went blank save for one thing. “Johnathan!”

He immediately turned to her, the momentary shock fading away as he finally dove for cover. Kellogg could only laugh, and even Madelyn wondered why he hadn’t taken the opportunity to shoot Deacon—or them both—dead. His grip on the railing tightened as he attempted to pull himself up, to no avail.

“You aren’t going to shoot me,” he spat. “You won’t kill me.”

Eddie Winter had said the same thing, before running away. From where she stood, there wasn’t anywhere for Kellogg to run. Madelyn didn’t feel like hesitating anymore, not after what he’d taken from her. The smug smile slowly returned to his face as he trained the same gun he’d used all those years ago at her—but she was faster—pulling the trigger just once.

Bullseye.

The sound was deafening and shook her to the core. She watched, shaking as Kellogg’s death-grip slowly loosened until he finally slipped from the ledge and down to the chasm below, the thump of his body against the floor a chilling indication that part of their mission was over. Tears instantly clouded her vision, and she sucked in as much air as she could, blindly reaching out for the nearest railing with her free hand as her knees gave out. Deacon was at her side in an instant, scrambling to collect her in his arms as he took the gun from her trembling hand before wrapping her in a tight embrace.

“Shh,” he hushed, pressing soft but urgent kisses against her temple as he combed his fingers through her hair. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Madelyn wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, Deacon whispering incoherent, comforting words into the shell of her, but it was what she desperately needed as her heart threatened to burst from her chest. They both whipped around at the sudden sound of rushing footsteps against the walkway, breathing a sigh of relief when they saw it was only Nick, looking just as disheveled as they did.

“Whoa, whoa,” he raised his hands in defense, carefully observing the scene before him. “It’s just me. Had to take care of two crazed androids. Makes sense now that I see who they showed up with.”

“Yeah,” Madelyn answered, still clutching Deacon’s arm in the fear she might topple over out of shock. Nick didn’t bother asking her if she was—or would be—alright as he silently peered over the ledge with a grim expression. He’d been in her shoes—revenge wasn’t as sweet as people claimed it to be. She pinched the bridge of her nose and found her voice.

“They—they were looking for candidates,” she began, pointing back to the room where she’d found the files before she’d been rudely interrupted. “For brain augmentation, for—” she broke off, unable to stand the thought. “Nick, they had a file on Nate.”

His eyebrows jumped up in surprise before furrowing in anger, but to her surprise, his fury was calmer than hers. He gestured to a databank further back. “Come on, let’s find out what these bastards are hiding.”

The computer was surrounded by towering processors—technology that Madelyn had never seen, even when she’d been to the Switchboard. Nick didn’t seem daunted, at least by the screen and output, immediately leaning over to type commands like it was his job. Deacon only slipped away when she assured him she would be okay, and she watched as he carefully approached the reactor they’d seen before.

“We weren’t wrong,” Nick muttered, sounding not entirely confident. Madelyn studied his profile, attempting to decipher the information flashing before her eyes on the tiny screen. “But we were wrong about a lot of things, too.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Nick pressed his fingers against a few more keys. “It’s not just brain surgery, or brainwashing we’re looking at, here.”

“Those candidates you were looking at?” he tapped his prosthetic fingers against his screen, creating an eerie kind of sound. “If they didn’t work out for procedure one, they were used for procedure two.”

“Being?”

“DNA harvesting,” Nick said bleakly. “To be used in the production of new androids. To make them...as close to human as possible.”

Madelyn was already connecting the dots in her mind, her chest tightening in dread. “Nate?”

Nick didn’t say anything at first, nervous as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Close. You.”

“Hair sample, 1956,” he continued, explaining before she had a chance to react. Still, she nearly collapsed in disbelief. He looked at her face-on, his sympathetic expression not doing much to quell her fears. “How’d—”

“He—that bastard,” she answered, refusing to use Kellogg’s name. “He tore some from my scalp.”

I prefer brunettes—his voice still echoed in her mind, causing a chill to run through her.

“Always thought it was as a trophy. Never thought it would be for some sick experiment.”

Her partner studied the screen, clicking through more pages. “I don’t think they were successful with sequencing anything, if that gives you any piece of mind.”

“Hardly,” she mumbled, wondering if there was still the slim possibility that somewhere in the facility—or even out on the streets of Boston—there was a rogue synth with her DNA. It was petrifying to even consider.

“God damn,” Nick suddenly cursed, his hands shaking. “They have Shaun Pearlman’s DNA!”

Madelyn wasn’t surprised by that. “That makes sense, doesn’t it? He was essentially kidnapped by the Institute.”

The detective shook his head, and dared to smile, even if it quickly disappeared from his face. “It says here he’s alive. Just as it says you are.”

Now she was as alarmed as he was. “What else does it say?”

“It has a location and—” he frantically patted at his coat pockets for a notepad and pen, passing off to Madelyn so she could scribble down the information. “He’s been right under our noses this entire time!”

“So,” Deacon’s voice interrupted their shared excitement. “Remember when you asked if we’d have a problem?”

Madelyn looked over to where the Railroad spy was bent over, inspecting an exposed panel of wiring in front of the reactor. Her enthusiasm started to fade. “Vaguely.”

“Do you also remember somebody mentioning that the Institute might be hiding a bomb?”

“I distinctly remember that somebody being you, Deacon,” she answered, struggling to swallow down her growing anxiety.

He nervously chuckled. “Just had to go and jinx us, didn’t I?”

“Why the hell does the Institute have a bomb?” Nick asked, more angry than anything. He pointed an accusatory finger at Deacon. “I know about you and your Railroad mole. Whose to say they didn’t plant it there just to screw with us?”

Deacon didn’t seem surprised that Madelyn had let that information slip to the detective and didn’t seem upset by the accusations either. That, or he was a little preoccupied with not blowing up. “What, ol’ Doc Rendezvous? Never.”

“More plausible that Scarface down there,” he pointed to where Kellogg had met his demise. “Had this as a backup plan. Last minute gambit to get his way. Nasty, but effective. Take down everybody in…I’d say a half-mile radius with him.”

Madelyn finally asked the obvious. “How long do we have?”

Deacon wasn’t the one to answer.

“I’d say approximately twenty minutes.”

The man had appeared on the platform behind them as if he had materialized from thin air. Madelyn recognized him instantly as the Institute’s Director—the same nameless, silver haired man who had appeared at the university’s demonstration in early May. The man who had calmed Mayor McDonough and the crowd with five easy words—everything will be alright. He didn’t make an appearance unless it was absolutely necessary.

“What are you doing here?” she questioned.

“I’ve come to stop you, of course,” he answered, folding his hands together. “I am aware of your investigation, and that you know who I am—who we are.”

Instead of getting angry, like she knew she was capable of becoming, and how she knew Nick wanted to react, Madelyn tried a little civility. She wanted desperately to understand. “Why are you doing this?”

The Director appeared pleased for the time being and stepped closer. “To advance the Commonwealth into a new age, of course. Here at the Institute, we aren’t simply trying to better life, we are trying to create it.”

“Nobody should be able to play God,” Nick argued.

“No, no,” he shook his head in disagreement. “Think of me instead as…a father.”

Madelyn didn’t know which was worse. Her skin crawled and in such a short timespan she decided that this man didn’t deserve her respect. “One of your experiments killed my husband. Kidnapped an innocent baby boy. Murdered countless others. How can you explain that?”

“It is unfortunate that Mister Kellogg turned out the way he did,” the Director said, showing little signs of remorse. “As with the others like him. Rest assured, we have rectified that issue.”

“Oh no,” Nick waved his hands, disgusted by the very thought. “You aren’t going to be sending any synths to infiltrate Boston, or anywhere else. The jig is up, and we’re here to expose your little party for all it’s worth.”

The other man was not phased. “Is that so?”

“The Institute’s days of experimenting is over,” Madelyn clarified. “And you can kiss your military contracts goodbye too. While you’re down here, buttering us up with false bravado, the campus is crawling with our good men, Boston P.D. that haven’t been swayed by your dirty money.”

“Between the evidence collected here and what we have stored away at the agency? Once it’s all been handed over to the Feds, I wouldn’t be surprised if they cooked you alive on the grounds for treason,” she elaborated.

A heavy pause filled the space between them.

“Not if that bomb destroys us all,” the Director countered in a calm voice. It seemed it would take a lot more to crack his thick veneer. “There’d be no evidence left. Just dust and rumors.”

Deacon was suddenly skeptical. “Now that you mention it Nick, do you mind if I ask you who rigged this thing, oh mighty father?”

The Director shifted uncomfortably before answering. “A freshman student by the name of—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Deacon stopped him with a wave of his hand. “That won’t be necessary. Did they happen to use special blueprints? Maybe got some advice from an old friend at the ‘mechanic’s shop’?”

Madelyn snapped her hand to her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh at his exaggerated use of air quotes. Still, the Director seemed baffled, and ultimately nodded. “I—he, yes. Yes, he did.”

“Ha!” Deacon clapped his hands together and kicked his foot against the exposed wiring, which caused everyone else to flinch backward in distress. “This thing is a dud! It might destroy the bunker, sure, but all of Cambridge? You’re out of your damn mind.”

Nick was amused, and this time the grin stuck to his face. “Maybe it’s you who needs the brain augmentation.”

The Director floundered, unexpecting to be outwitted in his own home, in his own Institute. He looked about ready to rant and rave until he was red in the face, pausing only when there was a commotion at the front of the large corridor. The calvary had arrived—just in time.

“Valentine! Hardy!” Sergeant Sullivan rushed across the metal walkway, a few of his officers and Preston Garvey following closely behind. He slowed upon approach, nervously eyeing the stand-off before him with his weapon half-raised. “The situation upstairs is contained. The department heads started singing like canaries the moment we floated treason as a possible charge.”

“What?” The Director huffed, eyes wide in disbelief. “That’s impossible!”

“What did she tell ya’?” Nick sneered at the man, tilting his head at Madelyn.

A piecing sound rang through the large room that continued on every beat of a second, the confusion falling away from everyone’s faces as they all looked to the bomb and its timer. Deacon took three measured steps away from the platform before scurrying away, practically wrapping his arms around Madelyn in and effort to get her to move with him as quickly as they could to safety.

“Is that—”

“Yes,” Nick answered, interrupting Preston’s question. “A bomb. And we’ve got less than five minutes to get back to the surface. So let’s cut the chatter and get moving!”

The Sergeant made to grab the Director so that he could handcuff the man first, even if it would make escorting him topside a difficult task.

“You’ll never take me alive!” he shouted, rushing away from the group and towards the bomb as it continued beeping.

Sullivan shook his head, withdrawing immediately with his arms raised in defeat. “Suit yourself.”

Madelyn almost suggested that Deacon toss her over his shoulder the way he sprinted along the walkway with her at his side, causing her to almost trip on the stairs. She took one last glance at the underground bunker and the lone Director before they made their ascent up the narrow staircase. With less than five minutes to navigate the tunnels back to the surface, there wasn’t time to talk, or hesitate, so she focused on nothing but the next step forward, barely remembering to breathe until her lungs screamed for air.

It wasn’t until somebody—Lieutenant Danse—was helping her from the manhole that she realized she’d blocked out their escape, stumbling off in a daze and pressing a hand to her head—did she have a concussion? Was she going into shock?

“We’re evacuating the building,” a deep voice, maybe it belonged to the soldier, or one of Sullivan’s men, she couldn’t tell. “Get her out of here!”

Familiar arms encircled her. “Madelyn? Charmer?”

She blinked, focusing on Deacon’s worried expression, even though she couldn’t see most of his face. “You said…my name.”

He smiled. “Well that’s what it is, isn’t it?”

She smiled too.

“Come on,” grabbed her hand, leading her into a light jog towards a small gathering of people on the banks of the Charles River. Piper and some of Preston’s Minutemen were standing with evacuees from the campus, looking on as more people rushed out to look on.

While their backs were still turned to the building, there was a rumbling, not unlike an earthquake, followed by what Madelyn knew to be a series of explosions, people tumbling to the ground as the world around them shook. Despite the bomb setting off underground, the destruction was still felt and seen above ground. When the dust settled, a deep crevice appeared in the center of the campus courtyard, a few stone columns were toppled over, and a fire had broken out in the inside rotunda. So much for a dud.

Deacon wrapped his arm around Madelyn’s shoulder, tucking her close as smoke billowed to the sky, the haunting sign that the Institute’s hold on Boston was no more.

It was all over.

[witchsheartbooks]

Hiya! Could I request Claire and the boys with a autistic s/o 👉👈 sorry if this seems a little weird but I'm curious 👉👈

As someone who is on the Autistic spectrum, I felt the need to write this one personally. Please don’t feel embarrassed at all, I’m glad I was able to write a set of head canons for this considering my own position on the spectrum. I’ll be answering two prompts in one here. The old request was an S/O with Autism on a date with the boys and Claire. I do hope you enjoy.~

Wilardo:

The two of you are out and about. Wil decided to take you to a botanical     garden and specifically over to a vast section of flowers that you were     quite interested in.

You happen to see one of your favorite subspecies of flower and begin to flap your hands.

Wil always found your little quirks endearing so any time he noticed you     stimming in a positive manner he couldn’t help but crack a subtle smile in your direction

His good mood is interrupted however when he notices a group of passerbys begin to point and laugh.

Tears start to brim in your eyes as your stimming is interrupted and you hide behind Wilardo, utterly embarrassed due to the people poking fun at you.

Wilardo is silently fuming but he was reluctant to leave you since you were going into a crisis mode.

Instead he pats your head briefly before calling out, “Hey. Mind your own business or go somewhere else. I know the owner of this garden and they’d gladly kick you out with a simple word from me.”

He flashes a smug triumphant grin in their direction. 

The ableists whine like the little snow flakes they are and leave.

Wilardo then turned his attention to you, his tone softening. 

“Come with me.”

He gently takes your hand and leads you to a secluded part of the garden that had been roped off. 

He continues to lead you even further inside, weaving through a rose hedge maze.

Roses were another flower you enjoyed so you focused on them as the two of you walked. 

When you both reached the center of the maze there were several cherry blossom trees cusping over a large koi pond. 

The two of you sit in a small wood fixture that was suspended partially over the pond. 

He had brought you here mostly due to how easily overstimulated you could get especially while in crisis mode.

You nod, letting your leg bounce so you could stim.

“Just because they said those things. Doesn’t mean I’ll even judge you for stimming, [Y/N].”

You nod eagerly and scoot closer to him while the two of you watch the swimming Koi.

“Next time I see ‘em though I’ll kick their teeth in.~” He quipped at you     with a grin.

Sirius:

He had brought you both to one of those public tea rooms.

Usually the lavender was the type to enjoy such pleasantries with you at home.

But regardless of spoiling you himself with his own skills he was not one to avoid spending atleast some of his earnings on his partner.

So as a change of pace he brought you out today.

And as nervous as he often was with going out into public, he felt confidence when bringing you.

Sirius held great admiration towards you, namely your ability to be yourself even considering how unique you were.

Which is why when hearing an odd comment from the member of the wait staff who had been attending you both his softer expression with you hardened.

Turning to the waiter in question, he stood.

And this was deemed odd considering Sirius was not one to make a scene in public. Perhaps at home should something happen but never when the two of you were out.

With a smile of which that you could only assume put the waiter in his place, Sirius stated this. “I do believe I’ll have a word with your store owner. Now.”

The waiter froze, attempting to mumble protests but Sirius was having none of it. “ I don’t believe I asked for your input on the matter, Did I? No I believe you over extended that yourself a moment ago when saying what you did about my partner. Now. If you don’t bring your store owner to me I’ll gladly find them myself. Considering I’m a regular and we know eachother quite well.”

 Defeated, the waiter scurried off and into the back prep room.

Neither of you saw him again for the rest of that evening but instead you were both attended to by the store owner themselves.

They had set down one of those slow rise sweet shaped stim toys for you after having taken your order.

The rest of the afternoon was lovely, and the store owner had been sure to speak in length to Sirius concerning proper preparations for you both next time.

 And you may have heard correctly but the earlier waiter seemed to have been dismissed from service entirely.

You talked about how much fun you had to Sirius on the way home.

Info dumping about the little things and that you liked that place because it wasn’t loud!

You had also explained again that most time you couldn’t go out for public outings since it was so loud.

Sirius had known your reasonings but listened again none the less.

Upon returning home the two of you sat in the library and picked out a few books.

Sirius would put off his duties for the day just abit longer in favor of some more time with you.

Noel:

He often struggled with the idea of public dates, namely because of how many would give him attention and it would detract from his time with you.

So today Noel had decided to bring you to a star gazing observatory.

You both arrived late in the evening, not many people were here other than the occasional maintenance staff for the equipment and the building itself.

The building itself was beautiful.

After only entering in the bottom floor you were enamored with all the stars littering the walls and ceilings.

You stimmed with your hands as you moved from one location to another.

The blonde only smiled, remembering a place like this one himself.

When his mom was still around, she’d wisp them both away to an observatory that she’d privately reserve just for her, and her son.

Noel would fall asleep in her lap on these visits while she would point out the constellations and talk about star names that would make up each constellation.

He had retained a lot of this knowledge from both hearing it and brushing up on it himself later in life by reading those same books again.

Approaching your side, he directed your attention to some of the mimicked constellations on the ceiling.

Softly stating their names and which stars made up each one.

Your eyes lit up, listening to him talk. He knew so much and it amazed you!

He continued his explanations as the two of you ascended the narrow spiral stair case to the tower itself.

Helping you to the top, he then lingered by the telescope and gestured for you to come closer.

“ Y/N I want you to look through the lens. “

Your head tilts but you do so anyway.

Shoulders dropping as countless numbers of stars dance across your vision.

You pull back and stare at him, mouth agape.

Noel only smiles, laughing softly once before encouraging you again. “Go on. It’s ok. Look as much as you like!”

It wasn’t often that Noel could share his passion like this with another.

In fact it was difficult for him to downplay his own interest like this in favor of feeling he may scare you off.

But to be proven wrong, it had his chest swell, looking at you like this now.

Perhaps he could share more with you than he had first imagined.

Ashe:

As boyfriends go, Ashe was protective, to put it lightly.

It wasn’t that he was possessive, no.

He was just paranoid when it came to not being in charge of certain situations.

You equated this to his trauma and did your best to be understanding of his situation

And you both have been quite good with communication especially when you felt he was being too cautious.

So after a lengthy discussion, Ashe caves and takes you somewhere he had often wanted to.

The two of you arrive at this small charming little café off the side of town.

Pastries, sweets, sandwiches, teas and even hand crafted sweet drinks were a specialty here.

The expanse of the menu was nearly overwhelming.

Ashe having expected this, had spoken to the wait staff ahead of time in asking to be seated in one of the quieter corners and to be given more time to look things over.

Though Ashe would often get the same thing from this location,he didn’t want you to feel pressured or rushed.

You were aware of your boyfriends hobbies so you asked him about the menu, he gave his own recommendations as well as stating which items he could and would make for you at home should you ever ask.

You settle on a softer mousse cake, and lavender milk tea.

Ashe orders a strawberry mousse cake for himself, and hibiscus tea.

When yours arrives, you try a bite and melt in place, eyes lit up as you simply stare at it.

Ashe laughs softly, “My my, Y/N is it truly that amazing?”

He made a mental note to make some for you himself at a later date.

Ashe enjoyed making sweets and meals for you, and as nice as it was to take you out.

There was a sense of pride for him with being able to make such things for you completely by himself.

On the way home you chattered about the cake and about how cute the location was.

All Ashe could do was watch your smile.

There was, a bittersweet nostalgia present here.

But he chose to keep it to himself.

For perhaps one day he’d choose to stop burying it.

Claire:

As bubbly as Claire was, she was often focused on doing things you wanted to do.

You both played off of each other well considering you both had sensory stims.

So, Claire understood you best or atleast that’s what you felt.

She took your hand and you both walked together to the farmers market.

She wanted to get some ingredients to bake with you today but you had no idea that she was bringing you here for another reason as well.

You pause and perk up once you both reach one of the corners of the market.

A petting zoo. There were so many animals, bunnies, small puppies and kittens, chickens, llamas, goats, and even a few baby calves.

You bounce in place turning to her and giving her the largest pair of puppy eyes you could manage.

Claire laughs and rubs your shoulder, “I didn’t only bring you here to shop! Let’s go see the new friends we can meet, ok?”

You throw both your hands up briefly and do a little skip as you take her hand and bring her along with you.

You both enter the small little zoo and you fixate on the bunnies.

There were so many and most all of them were bundled on top of each other in one corner of the open top enclosure.

They seemed to be sleeping so instead of interrupting you only chose to try to count how many were there sleeping.

Hopping from each enclosure, you’d either gently pat some of the animals there or you’d count all the ones that were sleeping.

A high pitched meow resonated near you and you looked down to see this tiny black kitten curling up on your foot.

Flapping your hands, you rub at your eyes briefly so not to cry over how cute it is before scooping it up.

You turn to Claire and stick out your lip.

She pauses and says, “Oh! That ones, cute-“

Then the realization resonates, “Ooooh, you want to bring it back with us huh?”

You nod, having gone non verbal. You gently squish the kitten in both of your arms as it chooses to nap there.

“Hm….ok!” Claire steps aside to talk to the owner and after some brief haggling you both walk away with a new small friend.

Later the two of you arrive home and you’re glued to the little fuzzball for the rest of the evening in between helping Claire with dinner and dessert.

~Mod Sirius

[laila-rk]

Taika Waititi’s Jojo Rabbit

I will admit I went into Jojo Rabbit with reluctance and in an already bad mood. I was planning on watching Little Women which I was very excited for but didn't make it in time, so it kind of felt like 'settling' for another film already. When the film began I was annoyed when the blatant rip-off Moonrise Kingdom aesthetic that I had expected from the trailer came to fruition. I don't personally see why a director would desire to rip off another's aesthetic and how they could be so conspicuous about it, but hey ho. So the entire first forty minutes or so I will admit I spent sitting in my seat silently pissed off and trying to talk myself out of my terrible mood. The film did nothing to assist me in this task. I ended up actually having to tell myself to try to see the film from a child's perspective, because frankly I don't see how anyone beyond the age of about ten could really take much from this film. Other cinema goers didn't seem to have the same issue — seemingly every person in the theatre was in hysterics at all the really badly written, juvenile script/ jokes. I despair.

Where to begin really? Rebel Wilson manages to be unfunny throughout, with every line seeming to be delivered with too much surrounding silence as if in anticipation of audience laughter. It felt like Pitch Perfect and all the jokes fell flat. The lead boy (Roman Griffin Davis) is strangely angered throughout, without any real impetus. I don't assign any blame to the twelve year old actor for this, rather the script and character writing was really badly done. Sam Rockwell, though one of the better performers, seems to be a tacked on character with no real point beyond serving as a vague father-figure to fatherless Jojo and as a precautionary "not all Nazis were bad people" add on. Scarlett Johansson I frankly felt sorry for throughout.

Jojo is a young member of the Hitler Youth. He is sufficiently indoctrinated but is small and cowardly. Some older Nazi boys tell him to kill a rabbit and when he can't do it, they call him rabbit as a joke. But Jojo confides in his imaginary friend, Hitler, who tells him it's okay because he would have his people be comprised of all 'animals' so to speak — the courage of a panther, the cunning of a fox, something something... you know, because Hitler was well into diversity. None of this matters though, because where the film is set up initially at the Hitler Youth training camp, and we feel as though we are in for a long slog of trying not to detect Wes Anderson's Fort Lebanon in this camp, the film bizarrely turns into another film when it randomly changes its mind and decides to set itself largely in the boy's home. It feels very much like the opening is from another movie and just stitched on the beginning.

Actually, despite the Wes-rip off, I would've preferred it to remain at Not-Camp-Ivanhoe, because what it turns into is Boy in the Striped Pyjamas meets Tracy Beaker. It has all the cheap tactlessness of a BBC film, including cheap looking costumes and predictable cinematography. There's a bit where Johansson tells Jojo (her son) that love feels like butterflies and soon after we get a camera pan down to Jojo's stomach where, yes, cgi butterflies reside. It felt like that bit where you go inside Tracy Beaker's head and see her 'famous' mum stepping out of a limo. It was embarrassing to watch.

Jojo falls in love with a Jewish girl, which feels like an unnecessary thread of the story, partly because it seems to be assuming the audience is also in the Hitler Youth and needs teaching that Jewish people do not in fact have horns and hang upside down like bats — actual line from the film— and partly because the girl is established as a stand-in for Jojo's dead sister. So that's weird.

Scarlett Johansson has to try to carry a scene off in which she impersonates Jojo's father who is said to be fighting in the war and has been absent for two years, therefore suspected as a deserter. Johansson awkwardly smears her face with ash from the fireplace and with this 'beard', begins to mimic Jojo's dad in such a way as to paint him as some kind of angry drunk, or rather just a stereotype of a 40s German father? We aren't sure. There's a lot of horrible awkward dancing in this scene and throughout, because Jojo's mum equates dancing to freedom and... well, that's about as profound as the film manages to get. The scene is really hard to watch and it just feels like the camera remains too long on an actress who isn't totally convinced of her role, and who could blame her really when the script is so embarrassingly flimsy?

The Hitler character, played by director Taika Waititi, has his moments. The performance is flamboyant and self-deprecating which does make for the occasional funny moment, in particular a part where he feigns confusion at public perception of himself as a 'psycho' as if he has no idea why this would be. The problem is that this should have been woven throughout and actually the film strays from this character too much in favour of following the Jewish girl who Jojo's mother has been hiding. This doesn't work because for some unknown reason, the girl is made to be frankly a smug brat. I'm not sure if this was in some kind of attempt to imbue the character with some form of liberation (she immediately grabs the Nazi boy and physically shoves him around a lot). It doesn't really come across as liberated though, if anything it makes it hard to empathise with the character as she behaves like a robot. She just comes across as an unbearable character who seems to have literally zero gratitude for the person who has been hiding and feeding her. That's not to say the Jewish character doesn't have EVERYTHING to be angry about, but human nature does dictate that one might be a little more emotionally nuanced and experience small moments of joy when everything else is bad. Instead, Elsa is perpetually angry to the point of essentially bullying the German child who is far younger and smaller than herself. This might make sense if she was even awarded some kind of emotional liberation at the end beyond her predictable escape when the war ends, but all she is permitted to do is another stupid dance on the doorstep (signifying Jojo's mother's idea of freedom, not even her own).

The film's redeeming quality is actually the performance by Archi Yates as Yorki, unfortunately perpetually referred to as 'the fat kid', as if that's a funny enough line to repeat throughout. His performance is naive (the actor is eleven years old), but it works because his timing is great and he delivers the lines as if he is familiar with the intended style of comedy; he actually delivers his lines with wit, where all the adult actors around him fail. He also seems to speak with a British accent where everyone else flits between a half baked German accent and their own real accent, which in between seems to fall into some kind of Welsh accent. Just do the German accent properly or don't bother with it! A scene in which Stephen Merchant arrives as Gestapo begins with a lot of 'Heil Hitlers' and ends with Merchant seeming to forget what he's doing and falling into his usual west country voice.

I don't have much else to write about this film because it's not enjoyable to bang on about the bad qualities of a movie and I do think there is something to be said for the director/writer's bravery in making a film about Hitler as a boy's imaginary friend.

I think the film would've been better off with less of a comedy vibe and by following in real earnest the experience of a member of the Hitler Youth; what his psyche would've been. Unfortunately the film is too babyish for any adult (Dukes at Komedia crowd notwithstanding), which means it is really only funny to kids, and I'm not sure what it does for a child without real prior knowledge of Hitler's Germany. The termination of the boy's friendship with Adolf manifests in his literally kicking Adolf out the window and telling him to 'fuck off', but actually this doesn't do much to negate the established charm/ charisma of the Hitler character. You don't ever really get that sense of revenge or satisfaction at Hitler's expense, if anything you feel a bit sorry for the neurotic clown incarnation of Adolf, who after all is a figment of the boy's imagination. I don't demand any kind of moral lesson from art, but it would seem that this film would be obligated to contain one, and yet it remains dubious as to what it even is... are we allowed to like this Hitler character? Are we even happy when he's gone? Wasn't he the only funny thing about the film?

The movie ends with the Rainer Maria Rilke quote “Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. / Just keep going. No feeling is final.” Which left me with the final reflection that indeed I did have to let this film happen to me and was rewarded with the beauty of the final credits rolling and the liberating sensation of being able to leave the cinema to go get pizza.

Sadly this film immediately goes to the bottom of my Oscars nomination list (nominated for Best Picture. Ouch!). Interesting to note that Ra Vincent of LOTR/ The Hobbit fame (anyone else watch all those making ofs?) did the production design for this film. At least his name in the credits left me with some feeling of warmth towards it.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Time in our Hands (4/?)

Summary: Temporal Detective First Class Aiden Gold has been working tirelessly to keep the timeline unaltered for as long as he can remember. He’s been chasing time bandit Lacey French for almost as long, but she always seems to slip through his fingers.

Until the day when his commanding officer tells him to bring Lacey in at all costs. The world itself is under threat, and Gold will need Lacey’s expertise to make sure that history happens as it should, and to prevent a catastrophe in the future…

Written for the A Monthly Rumbelling moodboard prompt, available here.

Rated: T

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[One] [Two] [Three] [AO3]

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Time in our Hands

Four

Atlantis was everything that Lacey could have dreamed of and so much more, all wrapped up in one horrific nightmare-shaped bow. When the capsule had touched down and Gold had deemed it safe to exit, she had run to the door and thrown it open, not at all concerned for what might be on the other side. This was her chance to see the place she had long since given up hope of ever knowing, and she was going to get her fill of it whilst she could, before the need to find Kida and prevent the apocalypse came upon them.

She stopped short in the doorway, gazing around her surroundings in wonder. They were parked up in a back street; the capsules always landed in quiet areas where no-one would notice their presence, but even so, she could still see the evidence of the richness and vastness of the Atlantean culture in the buildings around them. Thinking that this had all been here so many thousands of years before her own time, all these advancements that the rest of society had yet to make just sitting here in splendid, time-locked isolation, well, it boggled the mind.

From here she could see the marketplace in the distance, and she looked at the huge specimens of statuary that towered above them at the edges of the town. Everything looked as if it had come straight out of a story book. It was all so fantastical that it barely seemed real, and Lacey had to pinch herself for reassurance that yes, she was here, and this was Atlantis.

Above the city of her dreams, however, was the sky of her nightmares. It was blood red, casting an eerie glow over the flawless sandstone buildings all around. A flash of bright yellow lightning screamed across the sky as the dark clouds roiled as if they were alive. The roar of water was heavy in her ears, although there were no floods or tidal waves to be seen just yet.

“Here.” Gold came over to her, holding out a thick, dark cape. He was also swathed in one, and he indicated for her to leave the capsule so that he could lock it up and activate the cloaking. Not a cow this time, just a simple invisibility holograph. Lacey looked down at the cape in her hands. The air in Atlantis was stifling and humid; it felt wet as she moved through it. She still didn’t know whereabouts she was in the world, but she wouldn’t be at all surprised to find herself in the middle of the Amazon.

“We have very little knowledge of Atlantean modes of dress,” Gold continued, on seeing her reluctance to don the cape, “but I do happen to know for a fact that they do not wear polyester mini-skirts and backless shirts.”

Lacey sighed, rolled her eyes, and wrapped the cape around her shoulders, hurrying off after Gold as he made his way from the capsule into the centre of the city. She caught up to him, keeping her eyes peeled for Kida anywhere around. She couldn’t help wondering why she was here. Well, she knew why she was here, obviously, it was to close the time loop and prevent an alternate timeline growing from a paradox. She just didn’t know how exactly she was supposed to stop the end of the world.

Of course, all she had to do was look up at the sky, so red it might have been bleeding, to think that the world was about to end within the next few minutes. When Gold had said that they were going back to the fall, he had not been joking. Whatever catastrophic event ended with Atlantis at the bottom of the ocean, it was certainly imminent. She didn’t know whether the twenty-four hours of real time that control had given them equated to twenty-four hours before the place was destroyed or not. She didn’t really want to hang around to find out.

Still, this was not the end of the world. It was the end of the Atlanteans’ world, but not the end of the wider world. There were still a good twelve thousand years to go before anything like that would happen. For a brief, hopeful moment, she wondered if Kida’s message had been lost in translation and what she was actually talking about when she’d mentioned the world ending was in fact the end of Atlantis.

Lacey waved that thought away with a sad shrug. To save Atlantis would be to alter history entirely, and that would be worse than leaving a time loop unfulfilled. On the other hand, Kida probably wouldn’t know about the intricately interwoven laws of physics and time travel, so perhaps there was hope after all.

A beep from her wrist told her that her bracelet was back in action, and she glanced down at it to check that the lights were showing as they should, but she did not entertain the thought of bowing out now. As Gold had said, this was going to be her only opportunity to explore Atlantis, even if it was in a state of panic. As they moved purposefully down the main street, people were hurrying about from house to house, collecting possessions and herding relatives in all directions. There didn’t seem to be any decided notion of where to go or what to do, other than getting away from the horrible storm clouds coming from all directions.

Still, it was reassuring to know that she could get out if she could, and she looked across at Gold again. When she had told him earlier that she wasn’t worried about them being able to close the time loop, she had not elaborated on what it was she was actually worried about, mainly because she didn’t want to have to admit it to herself.

If Kida had come through to the nominal present with Gold’s emergency time-out, then that meant that Gold himself did not have it, and the idea of him being stuck here in Atlantis whilst it fell was simply unsupportable to her. There had to be another way, but Lacey could not think of any that did not involve sabotaging the timeline.

She didn’t even know why she was so worried about him. Just as he and his colleagues had complained – or joked, in some cases – that she had been the bane of his existence, so he had been the bane of hers, constantly on her tail throughout the many years of history she had been plying her trade in. No matter where she went, he always seemed to be able to catch up with her.

She realised with a jolt that it was because she’d miss him if he wasn’t always there, travelling along behind her and never quite catching her up. Over the years, she’d come to view them has having a very strange kind of, well, not friendship, but perhaps camaraderie. Her life would be so much easier without him, but it would also be bereft of some kind of meaning, and she didn’t want to find out what that would be like.

There was also the undeniable fact that ultimately, Gold was a good person. He was snarky, but then so was she, and they both gave as good as they got. When push came to shove, he was a cop and she was a criminal. He worked tirelessly to keep the timeline intact, and if it wasn’t for the people like him, then she wouldn’t have a line of work. It was only through Gold and the rest of the temporal detectives keeping the timeline in order that she was able to travel back and forth along it in the first place. Really, their professions were mutually beneficial to each other.

Lacey couldn’t think any further on the subject; Gold put out a hand to stop her and they ducked into a doorway as a huge peal of thunder crashed overhead, the stark golden lightning blinding them momentarily.

“We’d better find Kida soon or there won’t be anywhere left to search,” she muttered. The lightning flashed again, and once there were no longer spots dancing in front of her eyes, Lacey had to look out from her hiding place and marvel in awe at the sheer power of the nature around her. The bolt had struck the tallest sandstone tower, which was now billowing plumes of black smoke which danced in the ruby clouds.

Although, that said, she really didn’t know how natural this storm was. She’d never seen anything like it in all her travels, and as slates began to fall from the burning roof, she felt a shiver of fear. The danger of their situation was absolutely not lost on her, and she turned to Gold. She didn’t know if she was expecting reassurance, but she knew that there was none to be found in his face. What there was, however, despite his frightened eyes, was determination. There was going to be no point in suggesting that they cut their losses and hoofed it back to the capsule, the timeline and the time loop be damned.

“I think that’s the royal palace,” Gold said, his voice grim as he nodded towards the burning tower. “If Kida’s going to be anywhere, then it’s likely she’ll be there.”

As counterintuitive as it was to be running towards a burning building, Lacey nevertheless followed Gold as he dashed across the road, weaving in and out of fleeing Atlanteans, and began to pick his way through the back streets towards the tower. For a man who’d never been to the city before, he certainly had a very good idea of navigating it.

It was tough going; everyone else in the city was running in the opposite direction to them, and they were on the receiving end of many incredulous looks and shouts as they continued to go towards the danger. Gold’s hand grabbed Lacey’s, and she was grateful not to be lost in all the turmoil. Once they were finally out of the melee of the main city and had reached the winding steps that led to the base of the still-smoking tower, he looked back at her and gave a tight, nervous smile that did nothing to reassure her. She squeezed his hand, but he didn’t let go, and she didn’t want him to.

As he turned back towards the tower, he stiffened, suddenly alert.

“Jackpot.” He indicated the top of the steps and the grand door into the tower. Kida was there; even from their distance away she was still recognisable as the woman in the coma back at the BTI headquarters. She was with an older man, whose grand attire was certainly befitting of royalty; probably the king. The man was trying to tug her down the steps, and Kida was protesting, wanting to go back inside, much to the despair of the guards who were attempting to bolt the doors.

Lacey didn’t know why they were taking such security precautions when everyone was evacuating the city, but then she remembered some of her own escapades in other dangerous times, ducking in and out of abandoned houses during air raids in the blitz. Even if the city was on the verge of destruction, there would still be some opportunists about. She was a case in point, and a none-too-small part of her mind was wondering just what treasures might be behind those doors and just want kind of a price she could ask for them. They’d probably set her up for life just for dint of being from Atlantis; she’d be able to hawk a simple chunk of brick from the crumbling masonry for millions.

The king succeeded in getting Kida to come with him, and the guards bolted the doors before following them down the steps. Kida, visibly chagrined by her locking out, ran on ahead, and with the two guards preoccupied with helping the elderly king down the steps, Lacey decided that it was time to make a move. There was probably protocol for this kind of thing and she could hear Gold’s frantic hiss of ‘Lacey, what are you doing?’ as she pulled her hand out of his grasp and darted out into Kida’s path.

“I can help you get back inside,” she said. At last, in that moment, she knew her purpose on this mission, and she knew that it went beyond simply closing the time loop. All of her years sneaking into places to steal things had given her a certain skill set.

Kida just looked at her with an expression of equal parts confusion, disbelief, and mistrust.

“You wanted to go back in,” Lacey pressed. Gold had come up alongside her, and she knew that they must both look a sight, swathed in their dark cloaks, which were at complete odds with the pale-coloured garb of the Atlanteans. Lacey was beginning to think that she’d have been better off with the mini skirt after all. “There must be something very important inside if it’s worth going back in during this.” She gestured to the general apocalyptic atmosphere around them.

Kida gave a curt nod. “The library,” she said. “I need to get back into the library.”

Lacey’s heart leapt to her mouth and beat there painfully. If there was one thing that she had always held the proper respect and reverence for, perhaps too much respect and reverence considering the amount of scrapes she got in because of it, it was literature. If Atlantis’s entire literary culture was about to be wiped out, then anything she could salvage would be worth the risk. Not to sell, never to sell, but to add to her personal collection

“What are we waiting for, then?” she said. “Let’s get back in that library.”

[shibuemiyuu]

Desires - Hakuoki Fanfiction - Chapter 9

Here’s another chapter! I want to thank for all the reader for giving a chance to read my story. I forgot to say that start from the previous chapter (chapter 8), the story will roll into the angst one. And in this chapter something important will be revealed that will be the main key of Hijikata and Chizuru’s s situation. 

Even if we know that Chizuru is in love with Hijikata, but I don't think that the need to be near and the weird tension in the Shinsengumi is something just from their unsolved situation. For me it's a little bit weird if there is no some solid explanation behind that.

And also thanks to @impracticaldemon for the editing on this chapter (no matter when, thank you for the help Oni-chan!)

Let’s get on with the story. May you enjoyed then :3

Chapter of the stories:

Prequel - Prologue - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII

@hijichiweek @kirakirachiizuru

-IX-

"Phew~!"

That was the first word Sen spoke after she sat inside Chizuru's room. The owner of the room sat next to the princess. And her bodyguard was waiting outside the room.

"The tension inside that room is suffocating. I can hardly breathe inside." Sen inhaled a deep breath and exhaled it out in relief. "Their reaction was not the one I expected. I thought that they would agree to the offer. They kind of give off an aura that they don't want to get involved with an oni matter. I guess, your bond with the Shinsengumi is not something I put into the equation."

Sen was less formal now that they were not in the same room with the captains. Chizuru smiled when she remembered the captains' reaction. "Yeah. I guess you are right. And, um… I'm sorry. You know, they said some pretty mean things to you earlier."

"It's okay. Like I said, I didn't know that your bonds with the Shinsengumi were pretty deep. Don't sweat it." Sen gave an easy smile to Chizuru. "So… Enough about them. We are here to talk about you. How about you Chizuru-chan? Have you given any thought to my offer? Do you want to leave with me or not?"

Chizuru indeed had a thought about the offer. The problem was she didn't know what she should do regarding the matter. If the princess had come to ask her when she had first arrived in Kyoto, she would have gladly taken the offer and gone with her, leaving the Shinsengumi. If only she had met the princess much earlier before the things in the past months had happened… No, if only Sen had met her before she bonded with the Shinsengumi members, before she fell for the oni fukuchou…

Chizuru went into silent mode and Sen looked at her face with concern. "Chizuru-chan?"

Chizuru snapped from her thoughts when she heard Sen call her name, "U-um… Osen-chan. About your offer…. Honestly, I don't know." She cast her eyes to the ground and muttered her confusion softly.

Sen took one of Chizuru's hands and gave a light squeeze to her confused friend. "Chizuru-chan, the Shinsengumi seems to believe that they can protect you from Kazama. I acknowledge their dedication, but like I have said before, I doubt their ability against an oni strength. I'm not sugarcoating it, but the oni power is not something humans should underestimate. The reason why the Yukimura clan was murdered was because the humans that knew about them were afraid of them. We can overpower them easily. And knowing of Kazama's character, they can get killed when they are defending you from him. I know you will feel devastated if that happens."

Chizuru lifted her eyes and looked at Sen. What Sen had said was true, she had acknowledged it. The right thing that she had to do was leave the Shinsengumi. From several encounters with Kazama, she knew that Kazama was indeed extraordinary. And after the confirmation that he was oni, she wasn't surprised. Maybe because she and Kazama were both oni, she could feel his big power and strength emanating from him. Even before she knew that they were oni. If Kazama became serious and attacked the Shinsengumi… she didn't want to imagine it.

She knew it, she realized it. Still…

"Chizuru-chan!" Sen called her name and shook her a little, pulled her from her deep thought. "Why are you looking so, I don't know, like you want to cry. You're so drawn into your thoughts that you didn't realize I have called your name a few times…. Why are you finding it so hard to decide?" Sen looked at Chizuru with a meaningful gaze. "Is there something that you want to tell me?" Sen said in a solemn tone.

"I-I…" Chizuru tried to speak, but in the end, she just stayed silent. She averted her gaze from Sen and pulled her hands back to her lap. Sen didn't question why Chizuru pulled back her hands from her. She didn't want to force Chizuru to speak. She could feel that there was something that made Chizuru so reluctant form leaving the Shinsengumi. And whatever it was, it was not an easy matter to talk about. She waited in patience.

Chizuru was struggling with her thoughts, whether she should tell Sen about her and Hijikata's situation or not. It was obvious that the thing that made her so reluctant to leave the Shinsengumi was the infamous oni fukuchou. Their situation wasn't solved yet. And to leave from the compound with their situation like this, it would leave a bitter taste in her mouth. Not to mention that for some reason she just couldn't, didn't want to be far from the vice commander. She bit her bottom lip.

'Osen-chan has given me an offer to protect me from Kazama. I know… I can feel that her offer is an honest one. She really cares about me. Of course, she will be confused about why I am so reluctant to leave the Shinsengumi.' She turned her head to look again at the demon princess. Her eyes were serious, but she could feel that Sen was really concerned and worried about her being. Her eyes, while they were serious, were also honest and warm. 'I guess I should tell her about it. And honestly, I need to talk to someone about this matter.' Without Chizuru realizing it yet, her situation with Hijikata had nearly made her suffocated. She didn't have anyone to talk to about her situation. She had pushed the matter deep inside her and unconsciously it had eaten her from inside more than she had realized. It had bottled up inside her. A ticking time bomb that was near its time to explode.

She would tell Sen about her situation and hoped that Sen could help her about the matter. But when she opened her mouth and was ready to tell her story, suddenly the door of her room was opened and Kimigiku poked her head inside the room.

"Pardon for my intrusion, but the two of you have been silent for quite some time. May I ask if everything is okay?" The kunoichi, a term for a ninja woman, had been listening to their conversation from the outside. She stood a few meters from the door, not exactly in front of the door. She wanted to give privacy to the two girls.

"There's nothing for you to worry about." Sen answered her bodyguard without turning her head to the woman. While Sen seemed calm, Chizuru was surprised with the sudden intrusion. She forgot that Kimigiku was also stood outside her room. She just intended for Sen to be the one that would hear what she wanted to talk about. She thanked whoever had given the opportunity for the sudden interruption.

"In fact, Okiku please go to the common room and stay with the other men of the Shinsengumi. We will go to that room if we finish our talk later."

"Hime-sama-"

Sen turned her head and looked at Kimigiku with authority in her eyes. "I need to talk to Chizuru about something and I really need the privacy. Please leave and wait for us there."

The kunoichi knelt to her mistress and closed the door before disappearing without another word.

"Now Okiku has gone. You can continue whatever you wanted to tell me before she came Chizuru-chan!" Sen encouraged Chizuru to continue from where she left before.

"But, isn't there something that you want to tell me Osen-chan? You told Kimigiku-san that you wanted to tell me something?"

"That was just an excuse for her to leave both of us alone. I saw your expression when she entered the room before. And I would bet that whatever that you wanted to tell me earlier was not something that you want another to hear and know. It's not me that has something to tell about. Chizuru-chan, you can trust me on this one. I will never tell anyone of your secret." Sen gave Chizuru a reassuring smile. Chizuru that never had any girl-friend that she could share with and talk to, felt touched by Sen's intention. She nodded to her friend.

"There's some reason that makes me not want to leave the Shinsengumi," she started slowly. "And it started about half a year ago. The matter has not been resolved since then. Many things have happened in the Shinsengumi that make the matter remain unsolved."

"Is it something so big and complicated that it already takes about 6 months and it hasn't been solved?" Sen was curious about whatever problem Chizuru had.

"Well…. rather than something, it is more of like…. Someone." Chizuru whispered the last part.

"So the problem is this someone…. AH!" Sen exclaimed suddenly. She looked at Chizuru with narrowed eyes and for some reason had a mischievous glint in it. "Correct me if I'm wrong. That someone that makes you not want to leave this place is someone that you like, isn't it?"

Chizuru blinked her eyes, flabbergasted with Sen's sudden change of mood. Once the princess' question had gotten into her mind her cheeks started turning red. And she gave a small nod to answer her friend's question.

"Really?!" Sen said excited. "Who?! OH! Would that be one of the men in the common room?" She teased her tomato-face friend.

"...Yes."

Once again Sen grabbed Chizuru's hands and gave a little squeeze to them. Chizuru looked straight at Sen while the latter gave a warm smile to the former. "So, you don't want to leave this place because you can't leave behind this man." Chizuru nodded again. "But Chizuru-chan, if you stay and Kazama comes, you would also risk this man's life. Losing someone that you loved is not a thing that I want you to regret later." Sen emphasized the situation that they were in with her serious tone. "It is not that you two can't meet later in the future. I will arrange it so that you and he can meet frequently without the two of you having to risk your lives by meeting and countering Kazama. Believe me, he's not someone that you want to get mess with."

Her mind was processing Sen's words.

"Osen-chan..." Sen gave another squeeze. "If the only problem is like what you've said, that we couldn't meet each other, I wouldn't be so reluctant to leave this place. The thing between me and him is much more complex and complicated than what you've said."

The princess silently listened to Chizuru. It was Chizuru's time to speak and she's afraid if she cuts into her story, it would take some other time for her to be brave enough to tell her story.

"Something happened between me and him about 6 months ago. Something that only myself is aware of."

Sen tilted her head, confused with Chizuru's words. "Eh?"

Chizuru gulped and clenched her hands, bracing herself for the upcoming revelations. "Osen-chan…. I have slept with him."

"…" Blink. "Sorry?"

"I'm no longer… virgin."

"….." Blink. Blink. "What?"

"And the worst part is he was drunk when we slept together and he didn't realize that he had slept with me. He also doesn't remember or have any recollection about this."

"….." Blink. Blink. Blink. "W-WHAT?!" Sen pulled her hands from atop Chizuru's hand and placed them on her cheeks, while exclaiming her horrified shock. Sen felt her body go limp. She felt that her energy had gone somewhere far away. The revelation of Chizuru's confession was too shocking for her. She didn't prepare for anything this… this shocking! It looked like her outburst wasn't so loud that it would alert the occupants in the common room to burst into the room. She felt relief for that. But still!

Women in the Bakumatsu era, the era that the Shinsengumi existed, didn't have any significant value other than to bear the man a child and to be a good wife. Any woman that was found that to have lost her virginity outside marriage would be looked down on by others. Not to mention that she would be a shame to her family. If men that didn't have a wife were looking for some pleasure without attachment, there was a red light district for that purpose. That's why virginity was so valuable for a woman in that era. Losing virginity was like losing your value as a woman already.

Chizuru was a girl that had been raised with such knowledge since she was little. She wasn't afraid of what her family would think about her. The only family that she had was gone missing. The matter would be addressed properly after she had found her father. And no one knew about her condition except herself. But to let another person be aware of her condition would be another matter. She still felt ashamed of what she had done. To share her condition with another would be embarrassment on another different level. That's why she was so horrified when she knew that Kimigiku almost heard about her condition.

Sen widened her eyes and they nearly fell from their sockets. She was speechless. Never in her wildest dreams would she dare to imagine that Chizuru would be in this big trouble. She didn't give any vibe of being such a character that would be daring enough to do that thing. Her head was spinning. She took a deep breath and heaved it loudly before setting her eyes again on the other occupant. "May I know, who is it?"

That was the question that Chizuru had expected to be ask since she told her story. But still to speak out loud the name of the man, it made her insides churn and honestly she didn't want to tell it.

"It's…. It was…" She darted her eyes to anywhere but Sen. 'You have told it so far Chizuru. It would be weird if you don't put a name to the man that you just informed your friend you had slept with. And after you told her that only you that were aware of the situation.' She opened her mouth but was frozen by the next words Sen spoke, which cut all the words from her.

"It's Hijikata isn't it?" Looking at her still friend confirmed her suspicions. She had pondered why Hijikata's reaction was kind of… odd before, when she was assessing the captains' reactions. Looks like she didn't read into his reaction too much like she had thought earlier. Because indeed there was something between Hijikata and Chizuru. She just didn't realize that this something would be this… big.

Plus, Chizuru nodded her head a little to confirm Sen's conclusion. Her bangs were covering her eyes.

"Osen-chan…. I'm sorry."

"Chizuru-chan…."

"I know that what I've done is not something that I should do. Even right until now I feel so ashamed of myself. That one spur of a moment, blinded by my desire, I've crossed a line that I should not cross. But one thing that you must know," she lifted her head to look straight at Sen with a firm gaze, "I did not regret it. And if you ask me how I feel about it right now, my answer would be same: I don't regret what I've done." Her voice didn't waver. She hoped that her friend could be convinced of what she had felt.

Sen looked back at Chizuru with a knowing expression. "You love him, don't you?"

Such a short question. A question that was not a question, rather than more like a statement that needed to be confirmed. A question that for the first time someone other than herself had asked her to answer. A question that when she had realized it for the first time, she had felt dread and denied the answer with all her might. Because there was no way she could fall to a person that would kill someone without a second thought, someone that showed nothing but cold and stiff expression, someone that would not hesitate to kill her if just in a slightest he thought that she threatened the existence of the Shinsengumi…. Someone that didn't care or like or love her at all!

But also, a question that for the first time made her look beyond the man that he showed and what other people believed him to be. Beyond that cold and stiff exterior. Beyond that oni demeanor. Beyond the vice commander of the Shinsengumi…. In which she found the very man that she had fallen in love with. Behind the persona that he always exuded for the exterior, the other side of him, his inside persona had made her heart flutter like no other man had. A question that she could answer in only one way to the demon princess.

"Yes."

Sen knew that look. Even if she hadn't had the luxury to feel that way toward a man, she had seen it on some other people. A look of someone in love. Chizuru gave that look without any hesitation. And for that she felt sorry for her friend. Looks liked Chizuru had no idea at all, of what kind of trouble she had gotten herself into.

"When did this thing happen?"

Chizuru thought back to that night. For some reason, her body was getting a little bit hot. "It was at the same night when we met in Shimabara."

"Oh my…" Sen was lost for words.

"There was a man that pushed me to a room beside our room after I parted from you. And in that room, I found him drunk alone. Things happened and it escalated to something that led us to have a sexual intercourse." Her blushing face got redder. "Osen-chan…. I did that on my own decision. Even though I feel ashamed of what I've done, I would never forget that night. He made me…. a woman. It was as if he knew what he was doing and with whom he did that. My body never reacted like that night before. Only him that could make me feel that way. And because of that, I could accept my feeling that I love him.…

"I could feel it, that night was not just a night to satiate a need. We… We made love. I know that sounds absurd, with him not aware of the situation and who he had slept with. But…. When he gazed at me, in his drunken stupor, I could see that it wasn't only lust that reflected in his eyes. Even though I couldn't describe what I had seen, I could feel it. His caresses, his kisses…." Chizuru hugged herself to prevent herself from moaning at the memory of that night. "Osen-chan… I was loved that night. And I gave my love back to him with the same intention that I felt he gave to me." Tears had sprung to her eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling that slowly was too much for her to suppress. She looked hopelessly at Sen. "I...I…."

Sen hugged Chizuru. "I'm sorry. But I guess you could use a hug right now. Calm down Chizuru. Just pour out your feelings slowly. You must have bottled up this feeling without someone to talk to. I won't go anywhere until we finish this."

Chizuru placed her forehead on Sen's shoulder. "There's this feeling." Chizuru spoke again, slowly. She clutched her kimono in front of her chest. "I don't know why, but since that night I always want to be near him. The need to be near him and to be with him was almost too much to bear. A desire to be quenched. For the first month after that night, there was this weird and high tension in the compound that had made kind of a suffocating atmosphere. I knew that some of the captains felt that tension. And it didn't go away until sometime later." Chizuru lifted her head from the princess' shoulder. "And I knew that tension must be from the unquenched desire from my body. Each second it called for it to be satiated. I could suppress it for the most time. And maybe the tension had gone because somehow I could control my feelings.

"I barely can make it in this state. I don't know how I would cope if I have to separate from him. I know how dire the situation is and how it's imperative for me to leave. It's not I don't want to. But I can't." A lone tear escaped from her eyes. It had been a long time since she could pour out her heart, to share her feelings with someone else. Sen had offered to listen to her, and she used it to her heart's content. After all she really needed this talk.

Sen hugged Chizuru again and rubbed her back. Chizuru was confused about why she was feeling what she felt right now. Her friend was clueless of what situation she was in at the moment. Well, she was a kid when she got separated from her family. Her supposed father didn't give her what she needed to know regarding this situation. And if he was kind of hiding her heritage of being an oni, it was to be expected she guessed. Because no human had this kind of thing like what the oni had. She was the one that had to explain it to her friend. She heaved a sigh and pushed Chizuru to arm's length.

"Chizuru-chan. I have something to tell that would explain your situation and why you felt the feeling that you felt toward Hijikata." Sen spoke solemnly. "It's kind of a long explanation, so I need your focus in here. But first you need to calm yourself."

Chizuru nodded. She was regaining her composure. She breathed in and out, and after a few moments her breath was calm. "I'm all ears."

"Have you heard anything about Oni no Kizuna (Demon's Bond)?"

Chizuru dug in her memory and shook her head in the end.

"Oh, sorry, I forget that you don't remember any memory of you being a demon. Because Chizuru the cause that have make you feel that strong to be inclined toward Hijikata is this bond that you have unconsciously formed with Hijikata."

"I don't understand. What bond?" She looked confused and did not understand one bit of Sen's words.

"Chizuru-chan, you have created this bond when you slept with Hijikata." said Sen bluntly.

Chizuru blinked her eyes rapidly, still didn't understand what Sen told her meant. "Osen-chan, what kind of bond?"

"The bond that you have created is a bond that tied your soul. In this case, yours and Hijikata's. As an oni finding our partner is like a matter of life and death, because once you have bonded with your partner you can never annul or break this bond. And we perform that bond by having sexual intercourse; in other words you bond if you have sex with or, if you are fortunate enough, make love with your partner. We, the oni, can only bond once in our life. Even though our partner is dead, we can't make another bond because our soul has merged and will be together with our partner's forever.” explained Sen. “The weird atmosphere you told me before that lingered around this place previously was most likely because of the bond. Maybe it happened because the bond is incomplete, that it unconsciously made you and Hijikata called toward each other. You must feel like there's some strong urge to always be near him."

Chizuru remembered ‘the urge’ that Sen had mentioned. She absentmindedly nodded. Of course, she remembered what Sen referred to as the urge. How many times she almost lost to that urge and just went to Hijikata and threw herself toward him? The first time she felt that urge, she almost did what her body told her to. But being her clumsy self, she tripped herself and instead of Hijikata, she met with the hard, cold floor and got a nasty bump on her head. Fortunately, no one noticed her action. But she swore she had felt Hijikata gaze toward her before she plunged to the darkness, unconscious from the bump she got. Inoue told her later that Hijikata was the one that brought her to her room and until he arrived, Hijikata was the one that tended her injury. That was just one of the many urges that she had felt during the past months. It wasn't that she had been getting used to it, because the urge was as strong now as the first time she had felt it. She had learnt to control it, even though it would slip from time to time if she didn't focus enough.

"That urge won't go away unless you complete the bond. From what you told me of your story I can tell that you haven't completed the bond." Sen continued with her explanation.

"….What should I do for completing the bond, Osen-chan?"

"Don't worry. It isn't a hard thing to do. You just have to drink each other's blood while saying a vow to each other that you are bonded to each other."

"But… if we have to complete the bond, that means that I have to tell him that we are bonded to each other, and I have to tell him what happened that makes us bonded to each other." Chizuru bit her bottom lip hard and said her next sentence in a heavy tone. "I CAN’T do that,” said Chizuru adamantly. "….Osen-chan, I don't want his pity." She said in defeated tone. "I knew him, know him enough that he would try to take responsibility for what happened if he knows. That is one of his characteristics that has made me fall for him. His sense of justice is so strong. But in this case, it is also his flaw. Rather than tell him so that he will be forced to be together with me unwillingly, out of duty, it would be better that he doesn't know our situation at all."

Even though Chizuru said her confession in her defeated tone, Sen could hear there was some conviction behind her tone. Chizuru might look soft and weak. But she was one of the most stubborn people she had met. Within the short time that they had met and spent together, she could see that Chizuru had this stubborn streak. Not to mention that she also had the pride of an oni, that wouldn't like to be look down to and would rather die than someone took pity at her.

She was proud that Chizuru didn't lose her pride and dignity as an oni, but as a woman she was frustrated with Chizuru's decision.

"But Chizuru-chan. You would suffer for unknown time." Sen had heard stories of some oni that didn't complete their bond with their partner because of some dire or special situation. The agony and longing that Chizuru would feel was something that Sen didn't want her friend to feel later. It could push you to insanity because of the intense pressure of the incomplete bond. "I don't want to scare you, but this is not something that you should decide so easily. As I told you before, this is a matter of life and death. It can kill you if it isn't done in a right and complete way."

A pregnant silence stretched in the room. Neither of the two occupants had any idea of what they should do regarding the matter. It was Chizuru that broke the silence first.

"Osen-chan, I want to ask you a question."

"What is it?"

"Can you know if someone, an oni has bonded with another without that said oni telling you that they have bonded?"

Sen shook her head. "No. I would not know at first glance at you that somehow you have bonded with whoever, Chizuru-chan."

"Then Kazama will not know that I have bonded with someone else."

"No. The bond is a sacred thing that only the ones that have created it can feel."

Chizuru nodded and went silent again. For a moment, she was afraid that the other oni (Kazama) could know that she had bonded with Hijikata. Kazama was coming for her because of his intention of making her his bride. If he found out that she was no longer available to be his bride and it was because of someone that was his enemy… The scene would not be pretty, surely. A relief spread through her body after Sen told her that there was no way the other could know, oni or not, of the bond beside the two persons that had created it.

"Chizuru-chan, even though you could hold the urge and desire inside of you all this time, but you won't be able to hold it for much longer. You have to complete the bond as soon as possible."

"…No."

"Chizuru-chan!"

"No, I can't. At least for now, I can't. Give me time."

They were exchanging stares. One with determination, one observing. In the end, for the umpteenth time that night Sen heaved a sigh. "I hope that time won't be too long."

Chizuru gave a grateful smile to her friend.

"I guess asking you to leave from this place is out of the question now."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. It's your decision. And it can't be helped." Sen gave her a rueful smile while she shrugged her shoulders.

"Thank you, Osen-chan."

"No. Don't thank me. You just don't know what misery you have signed yourself into." Sen sounded defeated.

"No, I mean it. Thank you for listening to my situation."

The demon princess could feel the sincerity and gratitude from Chizuru's smile. While she still felt frustrated with Chizuru, she was happy that she somehow could help her.

"You're welcome, Chizuru-chan."

---

When the two female demons entered the common room again, all the captains greeted them with an anxious look. Discreetly, Sen gazed at Hijikata and analyzed his reaction when Chizuru told them that she would not be leaving the compound.

She could only sum up in one word what she saw reflected in his eyes.

Desire.

She didn't know if she should smile or feel sorry because the man himself was oblivious to the situation he had gotten himself into.

For Hijikata himself, relief beyond anything spread through his body when he heard that Chizuru would be still with them. With him. And he knew that the demon princess had stared at him when she had entered the room. Frankly he didn't want anything to do with her. And he didn't detect any bloodlust from the princess, so he just let the princess do whatever she wanted to do. It didn't do him any harm.

The other captains were happy that Chizuru would stay with the Shinsengumi. They were rushing to her side and promising to keep her safe.

"The Shinsengumi accepts responsibility for your well-being, Yukimura-kun," Kondou said in his warm tone.

"Just relax and leave it all to me!" said Nagakura while grinning.

"Glad to have you around," Harada said while patting her head.

"But I have to wonder, what kind of girl would want to stay with the Shinsengumi, huh?" Okita snide remark wasn't as mean as before. It just his way to show his concern.

And last, when she looked at him, the soft smile that she had seen a few times only, greeted her sight. "This doesn't make you some kind of special guest. You get the same treatment that you always have."

What Hijikata didn't say to Chizuru was that the treatment that she would get would be the same from anyone other than him. He swore to himself that Chizuru would be treated in his own special way from now on.

Chizuru bowed her body and said her thanks: "Thank you for letting me stay!"

Before Sen departed from the Shinsengumi's compound, she took Chizuru's hands in hers and let her eyes rest on Chizuru. "Do be careful. And remember, I am on your side. If there's anything that you would like for me to help with, you know what you should do. And Chizuru-chan, don't ever hesitate to seek for my help. After all we're friends, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are. Thank you, Osen-chan." Sen gave Chizuru one last warm smile, and then she and Kimigiku, the kunoichi, were gone.

---

After they had walked for some distance, the demon princess and her bodyguard stopped and turned their head to look back. Sen silently looked back at the place that they had just walked out from.

"Hime-sama?" Kimigiku could sense the unease from Sen.

Sen didn't acknowledge Kimigiku's call. She stared back for several minutes before facing the front and beginning to walk again.

"Let's go, Okiku."

And the kunoichi followed her mistress back to their village without another word.

'Ganbatte, Chizuru-chan.'

---

Three figures blanketed in dark shadow strode toward the Shinsengumi later that night, not long after Sen and Kimigiku left the compound. Two of them only accompanied the third figure to accomplish the goal that one figure had.

And no one could stop him from what he wanted. He always got what he wanted.

"Found you."

To be continued

Note: Okay, you get a glimpse that a figure will come and make some havoc inside the Shinsengumi. You DO know who is he and at how the story would turn into. But... This won't be a fanfic if I don't do something of what will happen for the next event. 

For some reasons, this chapter was harder for me to write. Chizuru's feeling has been bottle up for so long that it's not easy to tell someone of her feelings. That's why she was beating the bush and go round about before telling Sen her story. 

Hijikata has got his turned to share his thought with someone (Kondou) and that helped him with his feelings. I guess it's unfair that Chizuru didn't get to talk and share her bottle up feelings, isn't it? So here comes Sen, to the rescue! I always like the friendship between these two.

Stay tuned for the next update and see u on next chapter. 

Jaa ne~

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (106/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[17 February, 233 Before Age.     Hubler IV.]

Ryloth Windraker's office was as inviting and friendly as the man himself.   Whenever a client entered, Ryloth greeted him with a warm smile, a firm handshake, and a hearty pat on the back as he led them to a comfortable-but-professional-looking chair in front of his expensive-but-practical-looking desk.   After several interminable minutes of small talk about the client's family and various vacation plans, he would finally ask how he could send the client home with a smile on his face.    

"I should like to hire a mercenary," Dr. Topsas said frankly.   His arachnoid frame was too large and ill-suited for a chair designed for humanoids, so he simply stood next to it while he spoke.   "As my mouth is anatomically incapable of smiling, I fear that does not truly answer your question, but it does state my business plainly enough."

"Yes, of course, Doctor Saspot," Ryloth said.   "It's easy to forget just how diverse the galaxy is.    Putting a smile on your face is just an expression I use for making the customer happy.   I'd change it to something else... but then I'd have to order new stationary!"  

He laughed at his own joke, which Topsas found profoundly irritating.   "You do arrange contracts for this sort of thing, yes?" he asked.  

"Yes!  Oh, yes we do," Ryloth said with a chuckle.   "Well, officially speaking I have other people arrange that for me.    Keeps certain parties from asking too many questions.   Let me just take a look at my records.... Now you'll have to bear with me, our computer system is acting kind of slow today..."

"By all means, take your time, Mr. Windraker," Topsas said.  

"What sort of military solution did you need, Doctor?" Ryloth asked.  

"It's something of a real estate matter," Topsas said.   "And there is a bit of a personal grudge, so I'm reluctant to wait for the courts to settle it."

"Keeping your options open, is that it?" Ryloth suggested.  

"Something like that," Topsas said.  

"Something like that?" Ryloth repeated.   Topsas genuinely had no idea how to respond to this, so he waited quietly for Ryloth's computer to catch up.  

"So what I have here is probably a good fit for your needs," Ryloth began.    "He comes highly rated by past contractors, and he should be available starting..."

He stared at the screen for what seemed like an eternity.   Topsas began to wonder if the poor man had suffered a stroke.   Why wouldn't he finish his sentence?   Why had he started speaking when he didn't know the information he was trying to communicate?    He hadn't even asked Topsas when he would need the man, so why was he keeping him in suspense on his schedule?    What especially galled Topsas about Windraker was that conventional wisdom would hold this man up as an example of a "great communicator."    Except most of what he said and did was pointless showmanship and had nothing whatsoever to do with conveying information the other party wanted.  

"Do you have any warrior species in your files?" Topsas finally asked.   There was no point in waiting to broach the subject.

"You prefer them, Doctor?" Ryloth asked.  

"I find them to be very sympathetic to matters of honor, Mr. Windraker," Topsas replied.   "There may be more professional soldiers in your ranks, and many others with greater technical expertise, but I like to establish an emotional connection with the people I hire.     It helps to make it about more than just money."

"I understand," Ryloth said firmly, though Topsas strongly doubted that.   As he pulled up more records, he launched into a lengthy anecdote which had more to do with his family's history with appliance repair than anything remotely connected to the matter at hand.   "Now, I do have the Thundertoads open for next month.    They're very formidable.   Have you heard of them?"

Topsas had dissected a Thundertoad cadaver in pre-med, but he saw no point in volunteering that information.   "I was thinking of something... stronger, Mr. Windraker.   Perhaps a Saiyan or two."

"A... Saiyan?" Ryloth asked.  

"A friend of mine once told me that you had arranged contracts with Saiyan mercenaries in the past.    I was told to ask for a Mr. Jolok, if he was still in the business."

"Jolok?" Ryloth repeated.  "Now there's a name I haven't heard in a while.   You have to understand, Dr. Saspot, that the market hasn't been good for Saiyans lately."

"And why is that?" Topsas asked innocently.    "It was my impression that violence was a key component of their culture."

"That's true," Ryloth said, "but there's been a lot of scrutiny surrounding Saiyans ever since an internal dispute broke out.    You've heard of the Legendary Super Saiyan, haven't you?   Well, she's been aggressively pursuing any Saiyan she can find, hoping to track down their missing king."

"I don't have much interest in alien politics, Mr. Windraker," Topsas said.  

"Yes, well the bottom line is that Sayians are radioactive right now," Ryloth explained.   "You might as well be asking me to sell you two hundred pounds of weapons-grade actinium.   At least that way you wouldn't have the Super Saiyan looking over your shoulder."

"What business is it of hers?" Topsas asked.  

"It's not a matter of jurisdiction, Doctor," Ryloth tried to explain.    "You see it's..." There was another long pause, which Topsas found doubly-annoying, since he already understood what the man was struggling to say.    "Okay, so... If you had a Saiyan mercenary, and word got out about him, sooner or later she'd come after him, and if he managed to give her the slip, then she'd probably start following the money, shaking down whoever paid the guy.   Now I don't want that kind of attention, and I don't think you want that kind of attention."

"Quite so," Topsas said, "which is why you have others to make those kinds of arrangements for you.   That is what you said, is it not?"

"Well, er, yes, I see what you're driving at," Ryloth replied.    "But I don't think--"

"Mr. Windraker, I have a great deal of money to spend on this venture, and I believe that the wisest investment would be on a Saiyan warrior," Topsas said.  "If they prefer to work discreetly, so much the better.   Now if you are unable or unwilling to put me in contact with a suitable candidate, then I respect your decision.   Perhaps it might be best if your intermediaries were to contact me directly.    There would be no risk to your own business, though you would also receive none of the reward."

Ryloth seemed duly impressed by this, and  held out his hands to concede the point.   "All right, all right, Doctor, I see where you're going with this.   If you're willing to accept the potential consequences, then I might be able to help you out.   A lot of Saiyans have gone into hiding though.   The one you were asking about, Jolok, was killed in the Quadzityz War.   Even so, I know some people who know some people, and they could put you in contact with some Saiyans, but it won't be cheap to get them involved."

"As I said, Mr. Windraker," Topsas answered, "I am prepared to pay handsomely, though I should like to see some proof to support your claims."

Ryloth nodded and turned back to his computer.    "You'll have it," he said.   "I'm putting together a file of all the Saiyans that my people can reach, and how to get ahold of them.   Of course, you'd still need me to make those arrangements.   They won't just agree to meet with an unsolicited client.   It's too dangerous."

"Naturally," Topsas said.   "I appreciate your cooperation on these matters."

Ryloth finished creating his file and handed a portable data unit to Topsas.   "Now you don't need to make a decision right away," he said.   "Look it over and decide which ones you'd like, and I'll see about setting up payments."  

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Topsas said.    "You see, I've already decided which ones to contact."

Ryloth was about to ask whom Topsas had chosen, when suddenly a blue humanoid with red hair appeared beside him, aiming a firearm at Ryloth's head.  

"We'll want to speak with all of them, Mr. Windraker," Zatte said.   "There won't be much of a finder's fee in it for you, but if you cooperate, we can make sure the Saiyans don't find out it was you who led us to them."

Ryloth looked at them both, then slowly raised his hands in surrender.

*******

[18 February, 233 Before Age.   Toblerone Prime.]

Guwar was a mathematician by trade, but he was also a Saiyan warrior, and like most Saiyans, he was frustrated by the lack of good battles to fight ever since the Super Saiyan Luffa began cracking down on Saiyan activity.   Eager to change his fortunes, he had joined forces with two other Saiyans, Lesseri and Endive, to pursue a rumored power that would make them all stronger.   The technique, known only as "Jindan", was thought to have some ties to alchemy, so most of their progress had been achieved with the help of Treekul, an alien historian specializing in alchemical artifacts and ancient texts.   Guwar had been pleased to find that his skills in differential equations had been helpful to the geomantic calculations she used to locate items and sites relevant to their quest.   As the weakest Saiyan on the team, he liked having some way to make himself indispensable, just in case his partners decided to start trimming dead wood.    

Together, Guwar and Treekul had managed to trace the secret of Jindan to a pair of ancient artifacts: a scroll of formulae written by a legendary alchemist, and a copper retort inscribed with sigils and runes.    Both contained elements of the alchemical theory upon which Jindan was based.  Guwar wasn't entirely sure how this could be, but he trusted Treekul's geomantic ability to trace modern mysticism to the ancient teachings that inspired it.   While recovering these artifacts, Lesseri had made another discovery.   Another Saiyan, a man named Salziff, had tried to  obtain them for himself.    Was he after the Jindan secret too?   What had he found out?  

Guwar was more concerned with how they would find Salziff, and how they would convince him to tell them anything.   Lesseri was confident that they would have no trouble with either.    Since Salziff wanted the scroll and retort rather badly, she reasoned that Salziff would be eager to arrange a meeting.    As for getting Salziff to talk, Lesseri was even more confident of her answer to that one.    

"There's three of us, and one of him," she had told Guwar after slamming her left fist into her right palm.    "You and Treekul will take the goods with you to meet with him, while Endive and I scout the area for any tricks.    If he tries anything funny, we'll gang up on him, and beat him until he begs to tell us what we want to know."

Guwar found her plan somewhat glib.   Of the four of them, he alone had met Salziff, and he knew the man to be devious.     No matter how desperate Salziff was for the retort and scroll, Guwar was certain that Salziff would find some way to take what he wanted while giving as little as possible in exchange.    As they rode and elevator to Salziff's apartment, Treekul listened patiently while Guwar tried to warn her about Salziff's guile.    

"You have to give Lesseri some credit," Treekul said.   "We put that ad on the subspace network, and he responded to it immediately.  'As soon as possible,' the message said.    The guy really wants what we've got."

"Maybe so," Guwar said, "but if I know Salziff, he picked this meeting location very carefully.    He's got something up his sleeve.   I don't know what it is, but I'm sure he's mapped out three or four escape routes to use once he gets ahold of the scroll and retort."

"Why would he try to escape?" Treekul asked.   "As far as he knows, it's just you and me coming to meet him, and you said he was stronger than you.   He's probably planning to beat you up and take what he wants."

"Maybe," Guwar said, "but he'd be a fool to assume that we're coming alone just because we told him we would.   He may not be expecting us to have backup, but he'll still be prepared for it.  Just follow my lead."  Guwar handed her a handheld communicator.    "If we run into trouble, signal the others with this."

Treekul shrugged and clipped the device to her belt, then she removed the backpack she was carrying to take out the scroll and retort that were stored inside.   "If we're so worried about this guy," she said, "maybe it wasn't such a great idea to bring these things with us."

"And leave them on the ship with no one to guard them?" Guwar asked.   "No, that'd be playing right into Salziff's hands.    This way, we look vulnerable, so if he tries to take advantage of us, Lesseri and Endive can swoop in and stop him."

"I thought you said he'd be expecting us to have backup," Treekul said.   "Is being a Saiyan always this complicated?"

The elevator door opened and Guwar let out an annoyed groan as they stepped out into the hall.   

"Right, sorry.   Follow your lead," Treekul said.   "Got it."

They arrived at the door number Salziff had specified, and Guwar knocked four times, as Salziff had instructed.   There was no answer.  

"Where is he?" Guwar wondered aloud.  

"Maybe he went out and lost track of time," Treekul suggested.   "No, wait, he might be putting the finishing touches on some deathtrap."

She leaned in and put her ear against the door to try to hear what was going on inisde, and then she looked up at Guwar with a puzzled expression.  

"What?" he asked.   "What is it?"

"It sounds like snoring," she said.  

Guwar put his own ear to the door to hear for himself.    It did indeed sound like snoring.   He pounded on the door again, and this time, he didn't bother keeping count.    

"Salziff!" he shouted.   "Wake up or I'll break down the door!"

Treekul listened again.    "He's not snoring at least," she said.    

"Then why isn't he coming to get the door?" Guwar asked.   They hadn't even started yet, and he was already fed up with Salziff's games.

"Wait, I can hear... it sounds like he's coming this way," Treekul said.    "Not really footsteps.   More like he's shuffling across the floor very slowly."

"Shuffling?" Guwar asked, but before Treekul could explain further, they heard the door being unlocked from the inside.   A moment later, the door opened, but only by enough to let the occupant see Treekul and Guwar outside.    

"Is that you, Guwar?" he asked.   Guwar could recognize Salziff's voice, but it sounded weak and hoarse.    

"That's right," Guwar replied.

"Who's she?" Salziff asked.  

"She's with me," Guwar answered curtly as he took Treekul's backpack and opened it.

"You have the retort?"

"Yeah."

"And the scroll?"

Guwar held them up for Salziff to see.   "Look can we come in?" he asked.   It's been a long trip, and my lady friend is tired.  

The door slowly opened, allowing the light from the hall to reveal the Saiyan, or what was left of him.    He looked pale and sickly.   His hair had turned white, and some of it had fallen out.   A thin layer of stubble lined his jaw and upper lip, perfectly framing his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes.  

"Come on in," Salziff muttered.   He turned and led them inside, shuffling across the floor in a pair of slippers.  The only other clothes he wore was a pair of linen shorts.    It disturbed Guwar to be able to see the outline of Salziff's ribs under the skin of his back.

"Hey, Guwar," Treekul whispered as she elbowed his arm to get his attention.    "What's up with this guy?  I thought you told me Saiyans don't age for most of their lives.   So how old does that make him?"

"He didn't look like this the last time I met him," Guwar murmured back to her.   "As far as I know, he's two years younger than me."

"Yikes," Treekul said through gritted teeth.    When Salziff turned to face them so that he could collapse into his recliner, she tried to make her grimace look like a friendly smile, though Guwar doubted that it was worth the effort.   Salziff seemed to be too weary to care what anyone thought of his appearance.  

"Well, you're here," Salziff said as he stared down at his feet.   "You've got what I want, and you knew that I wanted them, so that means I must have something you want in exchange.   Name your price.   I'm in no position to haggle."

Guwar's first instinct was to suspect a trap.   This was all too easy, and too suspicious by half.   He didn't know how or why Salziff looked the way he did, but Guwar had learned a long time ago never to take things at face value.    It was much easier to believe that Salziff was only feigning weakness for some reason.  

Then Salziff began to cough, and he kept on coughing.    He reached for a box of tissues and continued coughing, until at last he expelled something from his mouth.    Guwar couldn't tell what it was, but he noticed a trickle of blood on Salziff's dry, cracked lips after he threw the tissue away.  

It was then that Guwar realized that he rather hoped this was some kind of trick.    He never liked Salziff, but the idea of him really wasting away like this was horrifying to contemplate.

"All I want is information," Guwar said.  

"Good for you," Salziff said.   "That's about... about all I have these days.   T-tell you everything I know."

He began to cough again, and Guwar was grateful that it didn't last nearly as long as the last time.    

"First, I want to know why you want these trinkets," Guwar said, gesturing at the retort in his hand and the scroll in Treekul's.  

"I'm dying," Salziff said bluntly.    "I think they can save my life."

"How?" Treekul asked.

"I don't know," Salziff said.   "The man who owned them, he could tell you."

"He's dead," Guwar said.   He wondered if telling Salziff that was a good idea, but the severity of Salziff's condition was throwing off his negotiation skills.

"Then so am I," Salziff said after a long pause.   "Guess you didn't need to bring those things with you after all."

Guwar pointed at Treekul.   "The woman knows a thing or two about this stuff.   Maybe she can do something for you."

"I doubt that very much," Salziff said.    He didn't bother looking at Treekul.    "No offense, babe.   If we'd met a few months ago, I would have been happy to make your acquaintance.  These days... well, I just don't have the stamina."

Treekul ignored his comment.    "You're right, I probably don't know enough to help you," she said.   "I'm an alchemical historian, not an alchemist.   But I have some contacts.   Maybe I can put you in touch with someone else who can figure out how to use these."

"I don't have time for 'someone else'," Salziff said.    He stopped to catch his breath.    "I didn't have time when I went to Quadzityz to beg Dorf Portendav for his help, but he was the only one I could find who had any experience in prolonging life and restoring vitality.   He is... was... a hundred years older than he looked, you know.  There's other people who claim to do what he's done, but he's definitely done it.   But he wouldn't lift a finger for me.   Too bad... maybe if he'd cooperated with me, he wouldn't have run into you guys and gotten himself killed."

He started coughing again, and he reached for another tissue.   When he was finished with it, he tried to put some force behind it as he tossed it into the trash, though it was hard to tell the difference.   "Serves him right, that stingy bastard," Salziff said.    "Wanted to be immortal, well look how far you got.   Couldn't even outlive me.    Me, I just wanted to live long enough to see another worthy battlefield.    Guess that won't be happening now."

"What did this to you, Salziff?" Guwar asked.    

"Performance enhancing drugs, to start with," Salziff said with a weak sniffle.   "I wanted to get stronger, but I didn't want to train, and I couldn't find enough action out in space.   Things were peaceful enough before the Super Saiyan started this crackdown, you know?"

"I've never heard of any PED's that could do this much damage to a body," Guwar said.  

"Then you haven't looked as hard as I have," Salziff said with a laugh.    "Too busy sticking your nose in those math books, Guwar.  Maybe you're better off, now that I think about it.   Pharmaceuticals weren't getting the job done, so I started looking into the black market.   A lot of it's snake oil, but some of it really works... for a while, anyway.    Before I knew what I'd done, I'd managed to screw myself over pretty badly.   I had to use most of my ki just to keep myself alive."

Guwar and Treekul exchanged a look.  Lesseri had been floating outside the apartment window for several minutes now, charging a ki blast aimed at Salziff's chair.    If he noticed her presence at all, he never acknowledged it.   Either his ki senses had faltered along with the rest of his body, or he simply didn't care whether Lesseri killed him or not.   Guwar nodded at Treekul, who pressed a button on a communicator hanging from her belt.    A few minutes later, Lesseri and Endive answered her signal, and stepped inside the room.

"He's dying," Guwar explained to them.   "I don't think he knows anything, but even if he did, we can't really force it out of him."

"Oh..." Salziff said when he finally saw the other two women.    "I had you figured all wrong, Guwar.   You're pretty popular with the ladies, after all."

"Never mind that," Lesseri said as she stepped towards his chair.    "What do you know about Jindan, old man?"

"Jindan?" Salziff said with a gasp.    "Don't tell me that's what you all wanted from me."

"We simply wish to get stronger, Salziff," Endive said in a crisp, even tone.   "Just as you did."

"If that's what you three want," Salziff said with a weak cough, "then you'll take my advice and forget you ever heard of Jindan."  

"You're saying it doesn't work?" Lesseri asked.  

"What I'm saying," he said before another coughing spell came over him.    "What I'm saying is that it isn't worth it.    Look at me, woman.   I'm younger than Guwar, but look at me now.   Is this how you want to end up?"

"Then you have used it," Lesseri said.   "And everyone who does ends up like you?"

Salziff looked away from Lesseri, and shook his head.   She grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him out of his chair.    

A trickle of excrement spilled from his shorts.  Guwar winced at the smell.

"Tell me!" Lesseri demanded.   "You're not so close to death that I can't make you suffer before you go!"

Endive stepped in to stop her.    "Lesseri, this is pointless," she said.   "We still have the scroll.    Treekul can find another lead to Jindan with that."

"Back off, Endive," Lesseri growled.   "This guy's seen what we're after.   He's been there, and he can tell us everything we need right now.    But he won't talk, and that makes me upset..."

Suddenly, Salziff made a strange noise.    At first, Guwar wasn't sure what it was.    He had never spent much time around the sick, and so for a moment he wondered if it was a special noise people made before they died.   Then he saw a thin smile on Salziff's face, and he realized that it was laughter, or the closest thing to laughter that Salziff could muster.  

"Oh what the hell?" Salziff said.   "You four won't take no for an answer, so what do I care if you ruin your lives?   I'll talk.   I won't bore you with the whole story, but I'll get you where you need to go."

Lesseri set him back in his chair and crossed her arms impatiently.  Salziff took a moment to compose himself, and finally said the word: "Mundokuul."

"What is that?" Endive asked.  

"It's where I went to contact the Jindan cult," he said.  "They have their own planet, but I don't know where it is, or what it's called.   No one does.   You go to Mundokuul, and they take you the rest of the way.   If you're worthy, that is."

"Go on," Lesseri said.  

"Well there's not much more to say, is there?" Salziff said.   "There's a ritual, but you'll see that for yourselves.   You'll rue the day you heard my name, but when it's over, you'll receive the power of Jindan.    And you'll be stronger.... Yes, you'll be so much stronger than you've ever been.   Oh, it's glorious..."

"Then what went wrong?"  Guwar asked.    "What's the catch?"

Salziff turned and stared at the window, as though trying to look at the stars in the sky.   The curtains were drawn, and so if this was his intention, he had to satisfy himself with the gesture instead of the view.  

"The cult is the catch," he finally said.    "They don't give that kind of power away for free.    You accept it from them, and they own you, body and soul.   Step out of line, and they take it back, only you're not quite the same when that happens.   The Jindan power merges with your own, and after a while, it's no so easy to separate them.   So if you make them mad, and they decide to take back what they gave you, they end up tearing away a piece of what you started with.    That's why I'm dying.   My health was shot before I went to Mundokuul, and Jindan made me strong enough to recuperate, but I couldn't follow their rules, and when they took Jindan away from me, they took with it some of my own strength, leaving me too weak to keep my body from falling apart."

Guwar looked at Lesseri and Endive, who looked back at him, and then each other.   There was a grim silence in the room as the Saiyans considered what they had just heard.   Then Salziff started to cough again.    By the time he stopped, there were tears running down his face.  

"I grew up with my great grandfather," Salziff said.    "He told me all sorts of crap.   Used to knock me around when I wouldn't listen.   I just thought he was a foolish old man.   Now I look older than him, and I finally see where he was coming from.    I thought he just liked bossing me around, but he was trying to warn me.     He just wanted to make sure I didn't make the same mistakes he used to make.    He told me how nothing in life is free.   If it doesn't cost money, then it takes hard work, and if it's not either of those things, then it must be something else they want, like your freedom, or your health, or your soul.  I wish I had listened to him now.    He wasn't such a bad... such a bad guy.    Wish he was here... so I could tell him I'm sorry...  Sorry that I didn't listen, pop.   But maybe you three will listen.    It's not worth it.   Please, it's just not worth it..."

But the four visitors had already left.     He rambled on anyway, oblivious to his solitude, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

*******

[18 February, 233 Before Age.  Interstellar space.]

Aboard Luffa's star-yacht, Luffa herself appeared on the main video display at the fore of the bridge.   At first, when she had answered their subspace communication in a bad mood, mostly due to the passenger accommodations on the transport ship she was currently aboard.   Apparently whoever had designed the seats had not considered humanoids with tails, but as she listened to Zatte's account of Dr. Topsas' performance, her expression brightened considerably.  

"You should have seen him," Zatte said.   "For a while there I thought he really was looking to hire a Saiyan mercenary.   I was beginning to think he might storm out of Ryloth's office in a huff if he didn't give him one."

"I took an acting course at university," Topsas said.   "It helps when the role isn't terribly challenging.   To play a pushy, entitled customer, I only need to think back on so many of the patients I have encountered in my career as a doctor.   Demanding a Saiyan is not so different from demanding prescription painkillers."

"He's just being modest," Zatte said.   "He was amazing.   You would have been proud."

"I was already proud of Doc," Luffa said.    "I only sent you along in case he got too rough with Ryloth."

"For your information, I am only 'rough' on persons who fail to keep their appointments," Topsas said.   "There is one I could mention, whose wife has told me of all manner of old injuries which really ought to be examined by a physician."   He raised one of his eight limbs, and revealed a small data drive held in his fingers.     "I was hoping that I might use Mr. Windraker’s Saiyan contact list to lure her back to my care."

"So that's it, huh?" Luffa said.  "You two are ganging up on me now?"

"Hey, he just asked me how you've been," Zatte said.   "It's not my fault that you keep getting into fights and picking up strange diseases."

"All right, Doc, I'll turn myself in," Luffa said, "but I want you to look at someone else first."

"You mean that fortuneteller you told me about?" Zatte asked.   "You're bringing her back with you?"

Luffa nodded.   "Zatte probably already told you, Doc, but Jolok had a defense against telepathic attacks.   He called it the Mindworm, and it did a number on me, but he said that he tested it out first by tricking a fortuneteller into trying to read his mind.   Her name's Dotz, by the way.    I managed to bring her out of her coma, but she's still having trouble shaking off the effects.  I thought maybe you could do something for her."

"Brought her out of her coma?" Topsas repeated.    "I wasn't aware punching and screaming had any therapeutic value."

"Oh, they do wonders for me," Luffa said, "but for Dotz, I used my telepathy to go inside her head and fight off the Mindworm for her."

He stroked his pedipalps thoughtfully with his forward left hand.   "Impressive," he said.   "I didn't realize your powers could be used to heal."

"You should see what she can do for birds," Zatte said.

"Very well," Topsas said.   "I've waited this long to give you a checkup, little mammal.   I suppose I can take the time to see too your friend first."

"Good," Luffa said.  "We're on a transport ship bound for the Lubegev System.    You can meet us there.   I don't know anything about the local cuisine, but we'll figure something out for dinner."

"That's fine, Luffa," Zatte said as she and Topsas exchanged puzzled looks.   "But why there?   What's in the Lubegev System?"

"Nothing... yet," Luffa said.   "But after I got Dotz out of her coma, she had a vision."  Her lips curled into an excited grin.   "It wasn't much, but if she's right, there's going to be a Saiyan attack on Lubegev in three days.   I thought I'd drop by, and if any Saiyans do show up, I could give them a proper welcome..."

NEXT: The Pause at the Threshold.

[literaturegeek53]

‘Electricity Comes to Cocoa Bottom by Marcia Douglas - Critical Analysis

Introduction

The poem ‘electricity comes to cocoa bottom’ is written by Marcia Douglas. She was born in the U.K but grew up in Jamaica. She is the author of books such as: ‘The marvellous equations of the dread’ (2016), ‘Madam Fate’ (1999) as well as a collection of poetry ‘Electricity comes to cocoa bottom’.  

Marcia Douglas’s work has appeared internationally in various journals and anthologies including London exams – IGCSE – text book as well as the Edexcel textbook. She is also a proud holder of the National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship award along with a U.K Poetry Book Society Recommendation.

For the following poem, June Owens writes in ‘The Caribbean Writer’: '[1]Some writers leave their creative handprints in dark caves where only later happenstance may, perhaps, discover them. Some writers stamp their entire selves upon the language, upon a culture, upon literature and upon our consciousness in so intimate, singular, well-illumined and indelible a manner that there can be no mistaking their poems and prose for those of another. Such a writer is Marcia Douglas.'

Moreover, For the purpose of this paper, I will analyze the poem and expound upon it according to its ‘title’, ‘theme’, ‘tone’, ‘structure’ and ‘literary devices’ while also simultaneously discussing the various aspects and meanings which the poet tries to express and are endowed within this poem.

Additionally, the analysis will be based solely upon my own perspectives, how I view the poem and what enlightment I contrive from it. Also, the paper will begin with a copy of the full poem, followed by a short summary and then followed by its analysis.  

 Poem:

Then all the children of Cocoa Bottom

went to see Mr. Samuel’s electric lights.

They camped on the grass bank outside his house,

their lamps filled with oil,

waiting for sunset,

watching the sky turn yellow, orange.

Grannie Patterson across the road

peeped through the crack in her porch door.

The cable was drawn like a pencil line across the sun.

The fireflies waited in the shadows,

their lanterns off.

The kling-klings* swooped in from the hills,

congregating in the orange trees.

A breeze coming home from sea held its breath;

bamboo lining the dirt road stopped its swaying,

and evening came as soft as chiffon curtains:

Light! Mr. Samuel smiling on the verandah –

a silhouette against the yellow shimmer behind him –

and there arising such a gasp,

such a fluttering of wings,

tweet-a-whit,

such a swaying, swaying.

Light! Marvellous light!

And then the breeze rose up from above the trees,

swelling and swelling into a wind

such that the long grass bent forward

stretching across the bank like so many bowed heads.

And a voice in the wind whispered:

Is there one among us to record this moment?

But there was none –

no one (except for a few warm rocks

hidden among mongoose ferns) even heard a sound.

Already the children of Cocoa Bottom

had lit their lamps for the dark journey home,

and it was too late – the moment had passed.

Marcia Douglas

Summary:

In this poem ‘Electricity Comes to Cocoa Bottom’, Marcia Douglas takes her readers on a journey towards the revelation of light. She delineates the excitement and anticipation of the children of the village at the production of electricity and how it is a spectacle which fascinates all of them. Along with that, she beautifully embeds her personal thoughts and perspectives within her words and weaves them into intricate sentences for the readers to decode and contemplate.

Analysis:

Title:

In the title, the poet uses the word ‘come’ – which is defined as: ‘to enter into being or existence; to be born’ – suggests that electricity wasn’t currently present in the small village of Cocoa Bottom. The name of the village could suggest that it is located somewhere in Jamaica as they grow ‘coca’ over there. Likewise, the poet, Marcia Dougles, is from Jamaica as well therefore it is much more logical to assume that the village is somewhere in Jamaica. Moreover, the readers can deduce from the title the importance of electricity which is also further expounded upon throughout the poem; and because it is a small village it does not have the resources to generate it on a large scale.

Language and vocabulary:

In the beginning of the poem the poet states: ‘Then all the children of Cocoa Bottom went to see Mr. Samuel’s electric lights’.

The poet begins the poem by the word ‘Then’. The foreboding of time plunges the reader directly amidst all the excitement mingling amongst the ‘children’ who have all gathered to see ‘Mr. Samuel’s electric lights’. Through this, the readers are capable of perceiving the excitement and enthusiasm felt by the children, induced due to the thought of ‘electricity’, which alludes towards the fact that their village lacked the resources needed to produce power for electricity. The readers can also contemplate the reverence dictated for ‘Mr. Samuel’ as his name is the only name mentioned – besides Grannie Patterson – and he owns the light, too. Similarly, the word ‘all’ signifies the importance of this spectacle.  

Additionally, the word ‘children’ emphasizes the fact that it is mostly the new generation that was fascinated by this new technological development that was soon to be part and parcel of Cocoa Bottom.

Moreover, the poet then states: ‘Grannie Patterson across the road peeped through the crack in her porch door’

Introduction of 'Grannie Patterson' alludes to the poets idea which is that the old people are reluctant to embrace with open arms the new world’s ever growing technological gadgets and tools – maybe because their beliefs and faith are somehow challenged and threatened by it; or maybe because they feel like it is something beyond the reach of their mental capacity and therefore it seems cunning and foreboding to them; hence, very difficult to accept. However, just like ‘Grannie Patterson’ the old people are still curious about the development of the world, which is why they 'Peeped... the crack' to monitor the unfolding's from a distance.

It is of particular interest how the poet uses ‘crack’ to delineate how Grannie Patterson views the event. It could – maybe – expound further upon the perspective of how the very religious view the success of modern world and its technology through a small ‘crack’ in the door; the ‘crack’, maybe alluding towards their skepticism or their enclosed perspectives of the modern world, its technological advances and its evolving gadgets.  

Lastly, towards the middle of the poem, upon the production of light, the poet states: ‘Light! Marvellous light!’ very simply but effectively, the poet conveys the enigma and the final product of this spectacle in a single word: ‘Light!’  The exclamation mark suggests the overwhelming feeling felt by the poet as well as the audiences who are all observing this spectacle formulate in front of their eyes.

Also, Through this repetition of ‘light’ the readers can comprehend how important electricity is to the people of the village and how it was purely a ‘marvellous’ scene for the ‘children’ to observe, which is why they had ‘all’ gathered outside ‘Mr. Samuel’s’ house.

Juxtaposition and contrast:

The poet uses the element of juxtaposition and contrast exemplarily in order to project her thoughts to her readers. By stating: ‘lamps filled with oil’ the poet juxtaposes the modern world alongside with the old or the past with the future. By this, the poet might also be trying to convey her feelings about the lack of resources in the village or how the people living there are not modern enough or compliant enough with the technology of the modern world. Similarly, the poet may also be trying to portray the level of illiteracy in the village.

Likewise, it is also ironic because of the fact that the congregation is gathered to witness the birth of light without the use of oil, whereas the poet states ‘lamps…with oil’. This perspective is further enhanced when the writer states: ‘…the sky turn yellow, orange’. This is interesting because she talks about materialistic light about to be produced just when the natural light is about to fade away. The adjectives ‘yellow’ and ‘orange’ similarly allude towards the ‘light’ produced naturally.

It is also ironic how this, in an abstract manner, represents the human need of creating such resources on their own will to benefit themselves; even if it is going against the course of nature.

Alliteration and repetition:

Through this literary devise the poet successfully narrates the excitement of the crowd towards the production of electricity. This can be deduced as the poet states: ‘waiting…watching’ and ‘such swaying, swaying’. The use of alliteration of these vocabularies brings both the elements of alliteration and repetition and as such enhances the readers understanding as to how the overzealous crowd was eager and expectant. It also builds up tension and emphasizes the importance of the issue at hand. It also further expresses the audiences’ elated and joyous feelings.

Personification:

The poet uses personification to her advantage as well in order to deliver her feelings of contrast throughout the poem.

She states: ‘the fireflies waited in the shadows, their lanterns off’ Here, the poet personifies the ‘fireflies’ by giving them human traits – such as the capability to ‘wait’.

However, the readers can notice an element of irony mentioned here, too – as it is easy for the fireflies to wait knowing that they have the means of producing electricity whereas it is tough for humans because they lack resources.

Likewise, the poet again vocalizes the conflict between humans and nature, suggesting how nature prevails upon humans due to its natural characteristics and the ways in which it is created.

Furthermore, the poet then states: ‘is there one among us to record this moment?’ The poet asks this question through the personified voice of the wind.

Through the introduction of this question, the poet introduces a decline to the happiness and the excitement narrated in the poem so far. It may also connotate the lack of technological development, for example: the absence of cameras and even mainstream media to capture such important events in the lives of the dwellers of Cocoa Bottom.

In addition, the poet also creates a sense of anticipation through this literary device when she states: ‘A breeze coming…held its breathe;’ This is evident because the finale is almost here.

Similie:

The poet also uses a factor of similie in order to narrate her own opinions and ideas.

She states: ‘…cable was drawn like a pencil line across the sun’.

The use of this similie explains to the readers the poet’s ability to express how the cables were like a sketch across the sun. However, this again points towards the concept of conflict between humans and nature; as ‘pencil’ is something created by humans and a ‘line across the sun’ might suggest how humans have ‘sketched’ their mark on nature itself by devising such technologically advanced machines and tools; such as electricity. But, the definition of ‘sketch’ is:  a simple, quickly-made drawing that does not have many details. Therefore, the use of this particular word might allude towards the fact that no matter how advanced human beings get, they will only be able to ‘sketch’ their mark upon nature, not fully be capable of ‘drawing’ upon it, as nature has and always will prevail upon humans and mankind.

Tone:

The poet begins the poem with a tone of excitement, wonder and apprehension: ‘waiting…watching’, ‘Grannie Patterson…peeped…door’, ‘Closing. Closing’.

However, towards the end, the writer introduces a sad tone: ‘but there was none’. The tone used to narrate this is sad and brimming with disappointment. It allows the readers to perceive how the children of the village might have felt disappointed once the spectacle had ended and they had to finally return home, which is further stated by the poet ‘lit their lamps for the dark journey home’ which enhances the readers understanding of the children’s disappointment and growing sadness. While again, juxtaposing the technological advances of a city against the lack of resources available in a village.  

Structure:

The structure of the poem is such that it endows within it the entire summary of the poem along with its message:

Just like the illuminating of ‘light’, the poem starts of immediately without explaining what had happened before. The excitement and anticipation described by the poet in between could suggest the flow of the electricity towards the light bulb, which is quick and instantaneous; much like the excitement and feelings of the children.

Then, once the electricity has raced through the wires and generated light through the light bulb, it lingers around for a while – just like the elated and overwhelming feelings of the audiences who witnessed the spectacle of electricity. In the end, when the light bulb is switched off everything turns dark – just like how the children of Cocoa Bottom felt disappointed and dull when they had to return to their homes with their lanterns guiding them through the dark roads.

Theme:

Imparting of knowledge:

The gathering of ‘all’ of the ‘children’ at ‘Mr. Samuel’s’ house could suggest the children’s curiosity, excitement and quest for the attainment of knowledge imparted to them from their tutor – Mr. Samuel’s.

The feelings of anticipation – ‘held its breath’, ‘Closing. Closing’ – could denote the children’s anticipation for obtaining knowledge. The effective and elated joy felt at the illumination of ‘Light!’ could symbolize the ‘light’ illuminated within one’s soul due to the acceptance of knowledge and wisdom.

The saddening tone of ‘but there was none’ could allude towards the scarce resources in the village due to which the children are incapable of writing down the knowledge given to them from their tutor. And the depressing mood created through the statements ‘dark journey home’ and ‘the moment had passed’ could explain how the children were sad that they had to depart from their tutor and go back to their houses; maybe because they were incapable of affording the payment the tutor demanded.                    

 Conclusion:

I would like to conclude by stating that these are the few aspects upon which I have expounded in order to analyze this poem according to its endowed message and insights which I was able to decode and procure. However, I am certain that there are several more aspects to this magnificent poem which I have been unsuccessful of mentioning and denoting due to the established boundaries and word count of this paper.          

 [1] http://www.studymode.com/essays/Electricity-Comes-To-Cocoa-Bottom-1108563.html

[devilsknotrp]

Congratulations, Cee! You have been accepted for the role of Zeke Hawker (FC: Jack Dylan Grazer). This was another really tough decision, and we truly thank the both of you for your applications! We love how deeply you got into his mind, his likes and dislikes, his snarkiness balanced with a touch of insecurity and a dash of healthy egotism. He’ll be a delight to have running around town! Please have a look at this page prior to sending in your account.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name: Cee Age: 20 Pronouns: She/her Timezone: GMT+10 Activity estimation: I’m currently studying full-time again, so I should be able to post IC every 2-3 days easily, depending on my muse. Even if I’m not writing, I’m usually able to be around to plot almost every day! When I know I’ll be pressed for time due to deadlines or exams, I’ll request a semi- or full hiatus. Triggers: N/A

IN CHARACTER

Full name: Ezekiel “Zeke” Hawker Age (DD/MM/YYY): 13 (07/01/1983); Capricorn sun, Gemini moon, Libra rising Gender: Cis male Pronouns: He/him Sexuality: N/A Occupation: Student Connection to Victim: Brian was one of them. He has no idea how such a quiet kid managed to weave his way so easily into an already tight-knit group, but it happened. Zeke wonders if it was because of him being in the same baseball team introduced Brian to the group. Whatever it was, he’s never found himself doubting whether Brian could be part of the friendship – and he doubts plenty of things. Alibi: Zeke was watching the other baseball games. With his game finished (and most of it spent sulking on the bench with Brian reluctantly lending an ear), he’d chosen to stay a while longer that afternoon. Sometime between the matches, he’d made a quick trip down to the Piggly Wiggly with ten dollars he’d mooched off Abel for candy and chips with a few other kids on his team who were still around. At around four-thirty he picked up his bag, shrugged on a crewneck and walked home from the pitch. A teammate’s parent offered him a ride home, and he gratefully took it. He was dropped off at the front doorstep and went straight inside. Faceclaim: Jack Dylan Grazer

WRITING SAMPLE

“Nope. That’s not it.”

Dust motes float languidly around him in the muted daylight that spills from the attic window, stagnant in mid-July air. A hand retreats from the cardboard box he’d finished rifling through, a messy stack of books and trinkets set back in their rightful place. To find a hint, anything about his parents, shouldn’t have been this hard to find. This was a trope of every movie; people kept unwanted things in the attic, not the basement. Too predictable. He thinks so, anyway and although this was real life and not some Spielberg blockbuster, it was close enough. Zeke had forgotten about the graze from another failed skating attempt that spans the base of his knee when he kneels down to store it away. A slight wince crinkling his face, he pushes it back to the spot on the boarding that’s a stark brown against the thin grey that covers the floor. Like nobody would know he’s ever been there. He dusts his hands on his shorts, but not before he’s rubbed his face and splutters from a cobweb across his nose. “Gross.”

Over cereal that morning, he’d asked again. Over a sugary bowl of whole milk-laden Cheerios, Abel consumed by today’s newspaper and soft radio masking the quiet that settled over the house, he wondered if there was anything else to be told about his mother or father. And just as his grandfather always did, it was a stock-standard answer of no, not really, there’s nothing remarkable to tell. As if he hadn’t missed out on the ordinary things already. And besides, isn’t it much more worthwhile to focus on the present?

“Focus on the present, my ass,” Zeke mutters to himself now, free arm outstretched to tear away a frayed edge of packing tape run across cardboard. In heavy marker, the next box is labelled 1971. A good decade before he’d come into existence, kicking and screaming. “Huh.” With limited options for company, it’d become nothing short of normal to talk to himself. Small comments of wonderment as he came across a particularly impressive fact in a book. 

Backhanded remarks as he resigned himself to watching The Bold and the Beautiful when nothing exciting was on television. Once, while they watched television after school, Josh had said he bugged out for doing that, laughter mingling with the taunt. Whatever. You try living in a giant house with just your grandpa, Zeke retorted. The Sunday visits Josh came along for were far different from living there week in, week out. Sundays were warm and bright. Cheerful, even. Once that rolled past, it fell back into the same monotony of school and baseball and homework, all tied together neatly with a rigid lights-out by nine sharp. To focus on the present was a joke.

A soft tug pulls the tape away easily. It’s left crumpled up beside him, gathered together in his fist before being dropped to the floor. He’s hasty to uncover the contents. Just like the last one, it’s packed meticulously. Like Tetris. The cover of the top photo album is worn in one spot, thumbed over by countless hands. He’s careful when he lifts it out and sets it on his lap, even more gentle with the plastic covers that run over the already faded photos.

So he sets to work. He’s learned to search out that face, the same way he skim-reads the chapter of a book assigned for reading he’s put off until the night before. Even if the only reference he relies on is faded, the photograph tattered and dog-eared in one corner from being stuffed in his jacket pocket to show his friends, the features are clear as day when Zeke pores over the images one by one. The disappointment’s sour in his mouth when he’s gone through it with no luck. The photos are beautiful, filled with smiling memories and yet, all devoid of his parents.

Beads of sweat across his upper lip, cotton shirt glued to the spot between his shoulder blades, another hour passes of searching through the storage boxes. He gives up eventually, when he’s graced with that same unpleasant taste. Mingled with that, though, is something else. An idea that perhaps there’re better places to look than right under the nose.

ANYTHING ELSE?

Zeke equates knowledge with adulthood. Maturity. Being a grown-up with a monotonous office job, fibre cereal and the drone of a television. Or used to. Brian’s disappearance has confirmed his suspicions – that it isn’t quite the case. The cops figured out who snuffed Phillip Silverman all those years ago pretty quickly, right? Or so some of them claimed. So, why’s it so hard to put a finger on who kidnapped Brian? The manhunts have gone on drearily, ended with no real certainty. Nobody’s a step closer to finding his friend. All grown-ups seem to do about it is croon in gossip over a diner booth table or spare an infinitesimal glance at the Crime Stoppers posters plastered on each utility pole downtown. He’s become distrusting, and quick. Whatever valiant spearheading people take up of the manhunt and the newfangled mystery of Brian appears self-serving. That there’s a few brownie points to score for next Sunday’s service, or a nice spot on the front page to print their mug across for stumbling across the next clue. If grown-ups cared, what reason is there to be so hush-hush when he asks questions? Zeke doesn’t want to think only the worst will happen. But if the adults are getting nowhere, he’s brought it up in hushed conversation with his friends that maybe, maybe, there’s a better chance of them getting to the bottom of it.

It’s well-known that Zeke isn’t great at making friends. Scratch that – he’s awful at it. Was his father, with all those vices, like that as well? It isn’t that kids don’t want to be friends with him because of his admittedly unconventional family. Whose only parent is their grandpa? But that’s never been so strange to set him apart far enough to be the black sheep. Jealousy has kept him from making friends. Until he reconciles with the fact, he supposes there’ll always be a quiet anger simmering at the back of his throat. It’s an uncomfortable sensation that makes its home in his chest, knowing that he won’t have a mom or dad to take (somewhat reluctant) photos of him on a birthday, on the first day of school or at a family gathering with a scowl plastered to his face. Those are things he’ll never be able to replicate, with Abel occupied by work and the belief that rules in place of his company are enough to raise a kid. He’s long become familiar with that yucky twinge when kids mention their families. He’s never had the luxury of saying My mom took me to go watch Independence Day in Lansing last weekend, or Hey, my dad came to see me score in little league, isn’t that cool! No, it’s been quiet admissions of frustration to Andrew when Abel has skirted a question on his father with the same lacklustre, manufactured answer journalists get when they shove a microphone in his face for the millionth time. To have answers is an itch he constantly finds himself having to scratch.

Apparently, his name means “God will strengthen”. Impressive. Except he despises going to church, enough to almost call himself an atheist, though he’s uttered a prayer or two in the last week when the worry really gets to him. Please, God, find Brian. Keep him safe, bring him home. It’s a nice way to swallow the nerves down, but not much else. He’s more interested in picking up a science book rather than the Bible, adamant about his excuses to weasel his way out of Sunday service but the effort is often pipped every time. Elaborate stories are quickly becoming his new forte. They’re just not quite good enough to get him out of that scratchy button-down and slacks too short at the ankle from his last growth spurt. At least he doesn’t have to go to those prayer groups Abel attends. While he can chalk it down to tradition and old habits, he’s never quite understood why Abel’s put much of his time and energy into it. He’s funny about it, too. Not funny as in it’s an innocent hobby, but funnyfunny. Funny where, if Zeke holds him up with a badly-timed question right as he’s about to step out the door or makes an offhand (and most definitely deliberate) remark that he might as well live at the church with the group, his face becomes stony. While he has quietened down about it, as far as his grandfather’s concerned, he’s determined to ask around elsewhere.

Sometimes, Zeke entertains the idea of asking if he can live at Ken and Aisha’s house. It makes sense. Their car often rumbles in the driveway to pick him up for school or to take him to a county fair. It feels much more familial. He worries that he’s a burden on Abel, that he’ll never properly connect with him as a son should. He’s come home with a busted lip and bruised pride from smart-mouthing bullies enough times to make anyone sigh with exasperation rather than concern. It’s not as if resisting the status quo at home, rules laid down like the law, helps his case either. His uncle and aunt’s home is welcoming. Smaller and cosier and warmer, always filled with chatter or laughter or radio. Abel’s house is huge. Silent, most of the time. When bad weather’s in, the windows rattle and wind shrieks around the corners, making it feel far emptier than it already is, which is no easy feat. To busy himself, Zeke got into the habit of reading and video games. Once he’d mowed his way through the fiction in the reading room, he quickly became hooked on non-fiction. There’s a haphazard stack of books on his bedside table at all times, switched out every week or so. He didn’t mind playing Actua Soccer for a while, until it reminded him of just how terrible he is at sport. Zeke likes to pick up new hobbies. It’s given him a wealth of new knowledge; new facts to ring off. Or when he needs to prove a point. He even tried to skate for a while. Eventually, he got sick of the bruises and grazed knees and Andrew’s bemused remarks. From stargazing to photography to origami, it’s a good way to pass the time.

When it comes to music, he’s pretentious. Zeke considers himself an indie aficionado – he’ll go for an underground station rather than the commercial pop garbage that plays on the radio. Most of his mixtapes are painstakingly curated, filled to the brim with Pavement, Mazzy Star, The Cure, Soul Coughing. Weird stuff. It’s made him consider picking up music, save for the fact that he can’t carry a tune to save himself. Tone deaf, that’s it. He won’t dare admit that he doesn’t understand half of the songs, lacking the life experience to even do so, but he’ll certainly make it seem like he does.

He has no idea why he keeps on with baseball. Most of his time at practice and games is spent cracking jokes and trading interests with Brian on the bench, ignoring the tinny sound of a bat and the shuffle of feet, the cheers from onlookers. Coach says he’d be good at the game, only if he paid attention. Deep down, Zeke has an urge to master everything. It distracts him easily. New things pop up to command his attention and in the blink of an eye, he’s moved on. He’s not scatterbrained, though. Just selective. He knows where to allocate his time. Ideally, he wants to be a jack of all trades, well-rounded and good at school and sports and small talk, though he hasn’t gotten any of them down pat. Too much of a smartass for teachers to really like him, too clumsy with his motor skills that he drops the ball half the time, enough lip and a tendency to curse that makes most kids reel, his friends included. But he’s trying to be better. It’s a quiet effort; one that won’t happen overnight. He cares about his friends deeply, even if it is masked by a habitual urge to squabble and brazen ideas that elicit eye rolls rather than impressed gasps. One day, though, he’ll come up with something good. Something spectacular.

[atlaswriting]

Against my best efforts to remain defiant to the tug in my chest, my tense body relaxes into Abram. Melting out of the cracks in my skin, I no longer had the desire to hold myself together—what was the point, anyhow?

Cerise’s voice claws its way up my throat, scratching and begging for release. I bite back the words, like acid it slides back down to my belly.

“Abram…” I say, turning to face him. It’s dark but the moon shining in my window paints an awful tenderness. His eyes strike me right at my vulnerability, piercing through and tearing me apart. Fingers find their way to his face and I touch his skin, carelessly stubbled—then over his cheek bones, finally my thumb slides over his bottom lip and I’ve never wanted to kiss only one mouth for the rest of my life more than in this moment.

The moment lingers heavy. Like one of those August days where the temperature creeps back into the 90’s, his words were the sick humid sticking to my skin, his truth sits like water in my lungs, each breath I breathe out suffocating me even more.

“You don’t want to love me,” I whisper, the ache in my chest making it difficult to breathe, my lips part, ready for him to untangle from me—to leave and to take my heart with him. “I’m no good.” I’m a forest fire, I want to say, a tornado—I’m a natural disaster and if he fell into my storm I couldn’t promise his safety.

I’ve already destroyed too many hearts, I couldn’t handle another. Especially not him.

He grabs my face firmly, holding my cheeks between my hands and he doesn’t say anything until my reluctant eyes meet his. “It doesn’t matter what I want to do, Elise. I have no choice in loving you—I just do.” He sighs, “Even if I had a choice—this would still be mine. Because you’re worth it. Every piece of me is made for you and I know, I know you feel that same way. You don’t have to say it back but I know you do.”

Abram leans in, pressing his lips to mine—his lips become a fist and knock the air out of me.

“We weren’t ever just friends,” he says, a matter-of-fact tone edging out his voice. His brows crease together and in his hands, I feel myself tremble. “We aren’t ever going to be just friends. That isn’t how our story ends.”

“How are you so sure?”

He shrugs, kissing me once more before pulling away and pressing his mouth to my forehead, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

♡ ♡ ♡

“You kissed Dominique?” I ask Sophie, my voice is hushed—despite the two of us being the only bodies in the library, with the exception of the librarian. “Isn’t she like, twelve or something?”

Sophie sighs, unwilling to move her eyes from her text book. She nervously taps her pencil against the page and groans softly, “Fourteen, I think. It was either I kiss her or the entire school continues talking about you and your thing for brothers.”

I visibly wince and cast my attention back onto my book—the numbers on the page jumping all over. I look up and half the equations are already completed in Sophie’s notebook and I can’t help but push down the feeling of jealousy at how easily the answers came flooding out of her. “So she wasn’t into Abram—she was into me?” Sophie nods. “How did you like it? Kissing a girl, I mean.”

She considers me for a moment before a sly smile twists her lips up, “I didn’t mind it half as bad as I thought I would… Unfortunately,” she holds her phone out to me, “Some genius posted it on his Instagram Story and daddy caught wind,” I scroll through the articles, click bait crap, before handing it back to her, “this is the last thing he needed, I think he would have disowned me too, if he didn’t want to collect liberal voters.”

I stare back at Sophie, whose hurt wore visibly on her face. Her pale skin flushed under her make-up and every now and then her brows knit together. She never liked her father much, a wealthy republican who had more guns than sense, but she loved him and I understood the craving she needed for some type of parental adoration. “Why would you do that for me?” I ask, “Risk staining your dad’s political career and your relationship with him.”

She shrugs, “He’s going to win regardless. Bad publicity is better than no publicity,” she tells me, “besides, it’s what you do for friends. Right?”

Her green eyes stare back at me, wide and hopeful—Sophie had been my closest friend for years, but we were no closer than the sun and Pluto. Guilt turns my stomach and I reach across the table, squeezing her hand, “I’d do the same for you. Besides,” I say, “I finally managed to get you to kiss a girl and you didn’t hate it. Step one kiss a girl, step two go down on her.”

“Is that an invitation, Alliare? I mean you’re pretty and all but don’t you think you have enough drama to worry about?”

I pull my hand away and laugh—louder than I mean to, “If I were to hit on you, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

“Do you like him, Elise?” Sophie asks. The question catches me off guard—the softness counteracts all her sharp and I’m momentarily disarmed. “Abram. Do you like Abram? Because if this is some game and you’re going to get bored—,”

“I love him.” I admit suddenly, cutting her off with the words falling from my mouth gracelessly. The surprise that flashes over her pulls me back.

“He loves you too.”

I nod, “I know,” I admit to Sophie sadly, “that’s what I’m afraid of.”

♡ ♡ ♡

Kempe: meet me outside.

Lislaire: No.

Kempe: Why not?

Lislaire: I have so much homework I need to finish, for one. And two, I don’t feel like getting anymore detention. Do you know colleges can see all that?

Kempe: Lmao. Elise, no they don’t. That’s a lie.

Kempe: Stop leaving me on read. Come. Out. Side.

Lislaire: You’re impossible. You know that?

Kempe: (: Yes.

Lislaire: I’m coming.

♡ ♡ ♡

“What are we doing?” After receiving no direction from Abram, I found where he was camping and my feet burn as I sink onto my knees next to him. It’s an unusually cool winter night, no recent storms have buried Middlebury under mountains of snow, but the light grey skies threaten something on the horizon.

“Why are you wearing two sweaters?”

I click my tongue at him, “It’s a long sleeve and your sweater, actually. And it’s still winter.”

“I think it’s going to be an early spring.”

“It’s February in New England, Abram. As soon as you said that you cursed us. Now, are you going to answer me, what are we doing?”

He nods, reaching into his bag and pulling out the first addition of his mother’s book. The worn spine is aching to be touching, but I politely keep my fingers to myself. He sets the book in his lap and reaches in the bag again, this time pulling out a cup cake and a candle. He lights the top and looks over the flame at me, “It’s her birthday.” He says, “It’s the first birthday without her—I didn’t want to spend it alone.”

I move closer to Abram, looping my arm between his and leaning my head on his shoulder. “Make a good wish for her.” I watch as he closes his eyes. Seconds pass and finally he blows out the candle. He wipes the frosting off with the tip of his index finger and pushes it toward my mouth. “I don’t think so—do you know how much sugar is in that?” My excuse is mechanically, jaw moving, throat throwing out words without much thought. I pause, consider my recovery and stare at the icing on his unmoved finger.

“It’s bad luck,” he reasons.

“I don’t think that’s true at all.”

He shrugs, “Just a taste.”

“Is that what the snake said to Eve?”

Abram grins, “Did she not think the apple was worth it?”

I stare back at him, trying to harden my features but his playful smile cracks me and I part my lips enough for his finger. His eyes remain focused on me, lips parted slightly as I slid my mouth off his finger. “Happy?”

“Sure, that’s the word.” He says, cheeks darkening. He takes a bite of the cupcake before putting it down. “I wanted to read you some poems.”

Taking the book from him, I shake my head, laying back on the blankets and pulling him down on top of me. Abram shifts until his head rests gently on my sternum. “How about I read them for you?”

And I do. Emilia’s words whisper past my lips, page after page—every so often Abram’s body would shake with a sob and he would tighten his arms around my waist. I read until there are no more words and he’s nothing more than a sleeping body. I don’t bother waking him, despite the chill that settles into the night.

♡ ♡ ♡

I rustle myself awake. The chill freezes my bones as I take in my surroundings. At some point in the night, Abram’s body shifted inside of mine and despite the sizable difference between us, I was jet-packing him, our legs and arm tangled together. Blinking a few times, I notice a body staring at us a few yards away and I force myself to sit up. Realizing he was noticed, the groundskeeper finishes busying himself with bags of salt.

“Jesus, Abram,” I shake him until his eyes start to flutter open, “It’s thirty degrees out here—we could have died.”

“But did you?” I roll my eyes at his lazy smile and he pulls himself up beside me. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you last night. Were you spooning me? I thought you were—but I was warm so I didn’t move.”

“I’m glad someone was warm.” He pulls me against his side and kisses the top of my bed.

“We can always sneak into your shower.”

Moving away from him, I pull myself up and then offer my hand out to him, “I don’t think so. Nice try. What time is it?”

He reaches for his phone, “It’s a little after seven. Why?”

“Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair, “I don’t know if your dad told you—but my mom she’s hosting this thing tonight—normally she does it in New York, but she’s on this new kick, trying to be a decent parent. You need to go to me.”

“Malachi’s going to be there?”

I shrug, “I think so. I assume so. I can’t do it alone.”

Hesitation creases his brows.

“My aunt’s going to be there, but she banned my dad—I mean, Simon from going. Sophie is going to come, if that makes you feel any better? But I just—I need you.”

He groans softly, rubbing his face with his hands and I smile before he can even answer, taking a giant step I hug him tightly.

“I knew I could count on you.”

“I’m not going to enjoy myself.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.” I press up on my toes and kiss his cheek. “I’m going to shower; a car will pick us up around two.”

♡ ♡ ♡

We arrive at the museum in the midst of all the commotion. Photographers stay behind a black rope and snap picture at the celebrities that were elite enough to attend. Every year Cerise hosts a charity auction. Most of the time it’s in New York, but I’ve got this nagging feeling she’s kept one foot on Middlebury to keep me down.

I opt for the back entrance, no longer comfortable enough in my skin—stretched so taut over bone I sometimes looked barely human. I was a work in progress, at least that’s what I kept trying to tell myself.

Sophie decided to walk the carpet to the entrance, choosing to use the publicity for a better public image for her father’s campaign. When he reconvene in the main entrance of the museum, the pale whites are now covered in golds and silvers, tapestry hangs down like clouds from the ceilings and the lighting is dim, with candles illuminating a gothic inspired design.

“I didn’t think you would show up—you’re late.” Cerise says through her smile. She widens her arms, fingers clutching a glass of champagne, she hugs me, presses her cheek to mine. “I thought you were going to be here at two. I looked like an idiot walking with only Malachi.”

“I’m sorry, we lost track of time—I couldn’t fit into my other dress, it was too big.”

Cerise’s eyes cast down at my body, the second choice still hung loose on my frame. She purses her lips, “It’ll do, I guess.” She looks at the group—Sophie who was dressed in an eye-popping emerald dress that did wonders for her complexion, then at Jason who only decided to come when Sophie planted herself on his bed who was dressed in suit mirroring his fathers—and then at Abram, who wore a tight fitting all black suit.

I make sure not to stare at him for too long—I wasn’t sure how strong by will power was.

“Oh great you brought the charity with you.” Cerise rolls her eyes. “Elise, be a dear, try not to embarrass me tonight?” She hardly gives me time to answer before she grabs a boy who had been walking by and shoves him toward me, “Elise, You remember Yousef?”

She pushes him closer and I crane my neck. Immediately memory of France flood my mind and I am quick to jump into his waiting arms. “Why are you here?”

“Ta mère m'a invité,” he says, “Comment puis-je dire non à une beauté?” He looks at Cerise and smiles.

Cerise blushes in response, “J'ai manqué un vrai gentleman!” She tosses a glance toward Abram, “Yousef is the boy Elise wanted to marry.”

“When I was seven.”

“Still, young love—is there anything sweeter?”

Yousef grabs my hand, “My mother is here,” he says in broken English, “Do you want to see her?” I toss an apologetic look toward Abram and nod.

[investmart007]

China silences critics of move to make Xi president for life

New Post has been published on https://goo.gl/sNBn5W

China silences critics of move to make Xi president for life

BEIJING/March 09, 2018 (AP)(STL.News) —The day China’s ruling Communist Party unveiled a proposal to allow President Xi Jinping to rule indefinitely as Mao Zedong did a generation ago, Ma Bo was so shaken he couldn’t sleep.

So Ma, a renowned writer, wrote a social media post urging the party to remember the history of unchecked one-man rule that ended in catastrophe.

“History is regressing badly,” Ma thundered in his post. “As a Chinese of conscience, I cannot stay silent!”

Censors silenced him anyway, swiftly wiping his post from the internet.

As China’s rubber-stamp legislature prepares to approve constitutional changes abolishing term limits for the president on Sunday, signs of dissent and biting satire have been all but snuffed out. The stifling censorship leaves intellectuals, young white-collar workers and retired veterans of past political campaigns using roundabout ways to voice their concerns. For many, it’s a foreshadowing of greater political repression ahead.

The result has been a surreal political atmosphere laced with fear, confusion, and even moments of dark comedy that undermines the picture of swelling popular support for the measure being peddled relentlessly by state media.

“There’s a lot of fear,” said Ma, who writes under the pen name Old Ghost. “People know that Xi’s about to become the emperor, so they don’t dare cross his path. Most people are just watching, observing.”

Once passed, the constitutional amendment would upend a system enacted by former Chinese leader Deng Xiaoping in 1982 to prevent a return to the bloody excesses of a lifelong dictatorship typified by Mao Zedong’s chaotic 1966-1976 Cultural Revolution.

Party media say the proposed amendment is only aimed at bringing the office of the president in line with Xi’s other positions atop the party and the Central Military Commission, which do not impose term limits.

Its passage by the National People’s Congress’ nearly 3,000 hand-picked delegates is all but certain. But observers will be looking to see how many delegates abstain from voting as an indication of the reservations the move has encountered even within the political establishment.

After Ma’s post on Chinese social media went viral two weeks ago, the 70-year-old writer decided to switch to Twitter, which can only be accessed inside China using a virtual private network, to continue issuing warnings about China moving dangerously backward.

“The police have not visited me yet,” he told The Associated Press on Friday from his Beijing home. “But I’m preparing for it.”

Ma remains in the capital, but some well-known dissidents and potential troublemakers have already been “holidayed” — bundled off to faraway cities, their travel expenses paid by state security. Retired elders from the Communist Party’s liberal wing have been warned to stay quiet.

The government’s censorship apparatus had to spring into action after the term limit proposal was unveiled, suppressing keywords on social media ranging from “I disagree” to “shameless” to “Xi Zedong.” Even the letter “N” was blocked after it was used as part of an equation for the number of terms Xi might serve.

Yet, occasionally, dissent has surfaced through the cracks.

On Wednesday, International Women’s Day, law students at the prestigious Tsinghua University in Beijing — Xi’s alma mater — hung red banners that ostensibly celebrated the school’s female classmates but also satirized national politics.

“I love you without any term limits, but if there are, we can just remove them,” read one, while another banner declared that “A country can’t survive without a constitution, we can’t go on without you.”

University administrators weren’t amused. A student witness said the banners were quickly removed and notices posted requiring campus shops to register students who use printers to make large banners.

Chinese studying overseas have been more blunt. Posts in recent days popped up at the University of California, San Diego, with Xi’s picture and the text “Never My President” and spread to more than eight overseas universities, said Lebao Wu, a student at Australian National University in Canberra.

To be sure, Xi’s confident, populist leadership style and tough attitude toward official corruption has won him a significant degree of popular support.

Sipping on a Starbucks drink in Beijing’s business district on Friday, a 56-year-old surnamed Zhang who works in insurance said citizens desired freedom, but wanted a powerful leader who could deliver stability and wealth even more.

Letting Xi rule indefinitely “will strengthen the party’s leadership and offer the quickest path toward development,” Zhang said. “We need a powerful leader. People need an emperor in their hearts. The Western idea that you are not alive unless you are free has not taken root in people’s hearts.”

However, a 35-year old IT industry worker surnamed Huang said her friends were concerned about China returning to the Mao era.

“I saw on (state broadcaster) CCTV’s evening news that they were saying everyone fully supports the constitutional amendments, but no one asked us for our opinion. Our opinion is quickly censored,” she said. “This is China. What can we do about it?”

Neither would give their full names as is common among Chinese when commenting on politics.

Even some of the government’s most outspoken critics have been reluctant to loudly criticize the constitutional amendment.

He Weifang, a well-known blogger and law professor at Peking University, limited his remarks this week to the observance that the constitutional amendment proposal contained 21 articles, and if a delegate supported some articles but opposed others, he or she was entitled to vote against it.

He, who lost his job once for supporting the late dissident writer and Nobel Peace Prize laureate Liu Xiaobo, declined to discuss the term limit amendment, saying the subject was “a bit sensitive.”

Others haven’t held back, driven by an urgent sense that their country is at a crucial point in its history.

Li Datong, a former editor of the China Youth Daily state newspaper and one of the few voices of open opposition, said delegates know the amendment is wrong but no one has the courage to speak out. He compared Chinese citizens to Germans who allowed Adolf Hitler to seize power in the 1930s.

“I know that just a few ordinary Chinese citizens coming out and expressing their opinion will not change anything, but I’m doing this so I can face future generations,” Li said.

“When they look back at this time, I don’t want them to say, ‘Not a single person in China stood up and opposed this.’ When people talk about Nazi Germany, they always ask why the people living during that time didn’t do anything about it,” Li said. “I want to be able to face my past.”

In the run-up to the vote, congress delegates have lavished extra praise on Xi. The party boss of a northwestern province that contains a significant Tibetan population compared him to a living Buddhist deity.

“If you do good things for the people, bring good lives to the people, you should be able to keep serving forever,” said Zhou Shuying, an artist and delegate representing a rural county about 130 kilometers (80 miles) west of Beijing.

“I’m speaking from the bottom of my heart,” she said, then paused to make sure reporters heard her clearly. “I’m really speaking from the heart.”

____

By GERRY SHIH and YANAN WANG, By Associated Press – published on STL.News by St. Louis Media, LLC (Z.S)

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[subetosleep-blog]

Week 10 – Back to Work

Monday

Today, there was no lesson, so we started off with consultation straight away, one in the morning and another in the afternoon.

Consultation with Huei Hoon

At the start of the consultation, Huei Hoon gave us feedback for our project on whether the link of sleep deprivation to death is a little bit sudden. We were a little bit taken aback as we already clarified this during the past few sessions of consultation in our early development stage. Thus, we explained with our research and made sure we were sure of the statement we were making in this project. Scientific studies are more suggestive in a way that they tend to use 'could lead to...', 'increases the risk of...', etc. Hence, Huei Hoon advised us that, in the wording of our presentation, in the way we do our project, for the wording and all that, they must be suggestive or indicative but not an equation. We told her our plans on how we want to fine-tune this through our publication by using yes/no questions and then at the end of the publication, we will include our research to back it up with figures, in a way that people will believe and understand us, at the same time, not being overly exaggerated.

In the morning consultation session, Huei Hoon posed a question to us about how sleep deprivation leads to death. We told her what we remembered but it was not convincing enough. So we went back to refresh our memory before consulting her again in the afternoon. We went through our research with Huei Hoon about how we linked sleep deprivation to death. Huei Hoon advised us that for our final presentation, we have to present these facts clearer.

We also sketched out how our final artefact would look like and wanted to confirm our form and concept. We explained to her the form of our artefact and why we made it that way. The feedback given to us is that we could research more on how we want our “clock” publication to look like and develop on it.

Tuesday

Consultation with Luke

Consultation with Luke went pretty good and bad. Luke kept asking us a lot of questions to help us think further. Just when we thought we had nailed down our concept and final form, we now had more doubts. Questions like, ‘What is experimental about your project then?’, ‘Is there a need for a projection?’, ‘What about sound?’ and ‘What is the purpose of building up this structure?’ were thrown at us. Some we could answer but some we couldn’t. This is a clear indicator that settling with what we have now may not be the best decision. However, after talking to Luke, we know what we have to experiment on, what we can keep and what we should simplify.

Alfred’s Lesson on Adobe Animate CC (formerly known as Flash)

Today’s lesson we learned some of the basics of Animate, which was quite a stranger to Josilyn since she did not take New Media like Hazirah did. However, Alfred told us that Animate is actually similar to After Effects which has a timeline, so we must always create keyframes for it to start and end. While many of us were still waiting for the software to be downloaded, we went through some of the shortcuts that will be helpful to us and things to take note as well:

Command + J : document settings box

Command + K : alignment box

F6 : select object and press this to create a keyframe

F5 : click frame number and press this to extend the frame

Shift + F5: to select and remove frame

F7 : create a blank keyframe (hollow dot)

F9 : actions tab 

F8: to create symbols (always need to create symbols before you animate, will have three options to select): movie clip (always select this unless you know what you really want)/button/graphic (static symbol)

Access Library : to see items that you have imported

Properties: will change as you click different things

Circle is keyframe, hollow rectangle is end the previous keyframe

**dots means it is a vector file

Button UP : changes seen when mouse not near/on it

Button OVER : changes seen when mouse is hovered over

Button DOWN: changes seen when mouse is clicked on

Command + Return : Test Run & Launch Browser

Wednesday

Social Experiment #2 - in SD outside our studios

After our consultation with Luke on Tuesday, we decided to continue our coffin experiment. Before confirming our final form, we wanted to experiment whether different kinds of the coffin form would affect our audience’s reaction to want to lie on it. So with the SPOH17 Signage that we managed to take from Yanzo last week, we set out on our experiment. We decided to use this and lay a black cloth over it. Of course, we had to test out whether it was safe for someone to lie on it first hahaha.

(thanks for the snap, joy!)

Through this experiment, we gained a lot of valuable insights from our observations. As we recorded the whole experiment with two hidden cameras, one from the top level and one from the same level, we noticed that some of the people who interacted with our experiment were our juniors and friends, thus we asked them what their reactions were when they first saw our makeshift coffin and why they did not lie down. One of the answers we got was that people do not dare to lie down on a structure because they were scared that it was not stable enough or it would break once they lie on it. Another insight we gained was that people were paiseh (embarrassed) to even lie down on what they think is a coffin, even though it was just a box with a coffin outline because they find it weird to lie on it.

(The wind was too strong and it blew a part of our fabric, one junior helped us cover our coffin with the fabric back, thank you kind soul!)

As seen in the gif above, one guy pushed our coffin away when a friend of him told him that it is a coffin. However, we approached him later that day and asked him why he pushed our coffin away, he told us that he ‘needed more space’ for himself. Not too sure if he was telling the truth because before he knew it was a coffin, he already had ‘enough space’. 

Another guy can be seen doing the praying gesture before leaving the scene. However, after hearing the audio and observing from two different angles, we are still not sure if he was “praying” to the coffin or simply just talking to his friend.

*Warning: our feelings are clearly written all over this upcoming paragraph*

As we were camping on the top floor during the social experiment, I(Jos) actually noticed that our pillow was gone, then I realised it was really far away from the coffin which was quite shocking because it was still there before I came back from the toilet trip. So I told Haz about it right after she came back from hers and at first, we were puzzled like, “How did the pillow even get there?” After thinking about it for a while before we conclude our experiment, we calmed down and decided to take a look at our hidden camera first so we know what really happened. As seen in the gif above taken from our video, our junior sitting there actually threw our pillow away. Like what????? I mean we couldn’t think of why in the world will a person take someone else’s things and throw it? Thus, we went to ask that junior if he threw our pillow and why he did that. He gave us the reason that he wanted ‘to get the grasshopper to stay away’ from him. Upon hearing this reply, we were speechless. Haha. Yes, we were just like, “Ok…?” I think we kind of give up probing further so Haz just told him not to do that again in the future because we were conducting an experiment. It’s just kind of sian we had to throw away our pillow casing because it was thrown at a grasshopper lol. Up till now, we still couldn’t understand his actions because he threw a pillow at a grasshopper when the pillow wasn’t even his and a pillow is meant for sleeping so WHY…... Sighpie. -_-

We wanted to understand him but he didn’t even put the pillow back and just told his friend about the grasshopper(?) as what we interpreted from the screenshot where he’s pointing at the direction where our pillow was thrown to. Before the video ends, we spotted another two people coming close to our coffin.

Through this experiment, we realised that building up a structure may not be best to engage people as they feel more reluctant to lie down due to the hardness of the material. Thus, we decided to conduct another experiment by changing the material of the coffin.

Thursday

Consultation with David

During the consultation, we updated David on our social experiment that we conducted the day before. As we told David we actually wanted to make our own coffin shaped casing to store different materials inside for our subsequent experiments, he suggested that we could actually make use of unwanted mattresses or even thick blue styrofoams from Sam’s workshop then cut it into the coffin shape and wrap it up with a cloth or a bed sheet. This way, it would save us the time from sewing up the casing as well as the cost to buy extra material to make things. It would be better for us to just use things we can find from home or anywhere else than to make from scratch as that will incur much cost.

Process of making the Coffin Shaped Bed for Social Experiment

After the consultation, we went to look for Sam at the workshop to check with him if he has any thick styrofoam boards like what David told us about. We managed to get a few styrofoam boards to piece them together to form our coffin shaped bed.

Drawing out the measurements of the coffin shape

Cutting away the unused part

Coffin shape done!

Taping the loose layers of styrofoams together and also securing the top and bottom part as one

Wrapping up the coffin shaped styrofoam board with a black cloth

We decided to put an instruction (Lie here & get some rest.) instead of the question, “Do you need some rest?” that we put in our previous experiments.

Social Experiment #3 - in SD in front of the lift

This time, we did not put a block, we cut styrofoam boards (which we took from the workshop) and put it together into a coffin shape and wrapped it with a black cloth. We changed the location too, after considering the human traffic and having in mind that people who pass by that location have a destination in place, we would be disrupting their journey towards their intended destination. If people were to stop on their own free will to try lying down, our experiment would be a success.

(our spontaneous friend, Nabilah decided to lie down :D)

(us at the end of the experiment - just to see how it actually feels like to lie down and rest hahaha)

As we observe today’s experiment, we notice a lot of people taking photos of our artefact, perhaps due to it being something they haven’t seen anywhere, or they may think it is amusing and want to take photos to share it somewhere. This lets us know that our artefact may become a viral topic, but we have failed to make people lie down, probably because we overlooked the fact that our artefact was placed in front of the lift, so people may be afraid to lie down in case the lift door suddenly opens.

We also managed to talk to one of our junior who passed by our styrofoam cut-out coffin. We asked him what he thought of when he saw our “coffin”. He said that he did not really notice it because he is not the kaypo (nosey parker) type. Through the conversation, we realised that there will be people who would not want to do something out of the norm as it might break their mask. Doing something weird like lying down on a “coffin” in the middle of nowhere would seem like an absurd thing to do for them. We decided to conduct this same experiment at a different location tomorrow, so we could target people with a different mindset.

Update: After the experiment which we thought.. failed.. We actually found out from one of our junior (thanks Alexa, you rock!) that her batch mates actually reacted to our little social experiment. She even showed us the snaps that her friends produced.

She also mentioned that Naiise even insta-storied our experiment where they captioned, “You guys ✌🏼”.

Friday

Consultation with David

We consulted David in the morning to talk about the results from yesterday’s experiment and told him about our plan for the next one that we will be conducting. We got some really insightful feedbacks. He gave us some advice on how we could further improve the artefact.

Social Experiment #4 - outside Department of Finance, corridor area

On Friday afternoon, we decided to conduct the same experiment like we did yesterday, just that it is at a different location. After our consultation with David in the morning, we decided to change one thing. David advised us in the morning that, there are certain things in our experiment that we have to keep constant. Since we have already changed the form of the coffin, each time we experimented ( eg. string, block and now styrofoam cut-out) and also the places that we decided to conduct these experiments on, we should just keep our “instruction label: Do you need some rest?” the same.

So with David’s wisdom, we set out to lay our styrofoam coffin at a corridor area outside the office of the Department Of Finance. We decided to lay it at that area as it is a common area for people to pass by whenever they have to go for lunch, come back from lunch or even travel from one class to another. So after laying our experiment there, we hid inside the office of the Department of Finance and set up our hidden camera. We got permission from the DOF people to let us camp there for about an hour to observe the passer-bys.

The first thirty minutes, we lay the coffin there, with a pillow but without any instructions. No one dared to lie down but to our surprise, there were actually quite a number of people who actually knew that it is for them to lie down. A number of them told their friends, “You want to lie down?” There were also other reactions that we got from them.

Eh you want to sleep there or not?

“Eh, a coffin!!”

Wah scary leh

Is that a coffin.. Bed?!

After the first thirty minutes, we decided to add the question, “Do you need some rest?”

Wait is that a coffin... shape?

Like coffin eh

Why got coffin one?

We realised that after adding the question, the reactions were pretty much the same as when we did not place the instruction. People still took photos, stopped to stare at the coffin and even bend down to touch the coffin and the pillow. The only differences were that people tend to read out “Do you need some rest?” and it becomes a question to not only prompt them to want to lie down but a question to prompt their friends to lie down. The questions served as a form of encouragement to trigger people to lie down.