#ulu reply

[unknownlunarei]

❤️ (favorite character and why)

My fav character is..... If i am being honest i like every single one of the sticks

Everyone have their own past and unique traits and way of thinking i just can't choose any.

(who said u can have only one fav when everyone can be ur fav heh.)

[baskingsol]

Secret's out, sort of

pairing: eventual!OC x Geto Suguru X Gojo Satoru

summary: Yami and Gojo take the students out for a group mission, arguments/flirting ensue

“Everyone ready?” Satoru asks, ushering the group of students out of the school van. “This is where we’ll be training for the day.”

A five-story abandoned school stands in front of the group of nine people. The decrepit state and overgrown shrubbery gave no doubts that this place would be something out of a textbook ghost site, not to account for the actual reports of multiple cursed spirits lingering around the building.

“Expecting to show off your technique today?” Satoru asks quietly, pointing down to one of the blade sheaths sitting on either side of Yami’s belt. “Those are some interesting weapons.”

“Gifts from a job I did years ago,” Yami mutters, shooting her eyes up to stare at his bandages. “Worried I’ll outshine you to the students?”

“Oh never,” Satoru replies, a smirk growing on his face as he leans in. “I’m quite interested to see what kind of woman you are to have such respect from Yaga and to leave such a memory on Suguru.”

“Jealous I’m wooing your boss and boyfriend with just my existence?” Yami teases. “You’ll see what I can do in time, patience.” 

Gojo opens his mouth to retort to Yami’s tease but Yami whistles to grab the student’s attention. 

“We’ll be splitting up into groups to cover more groups and to not step on each other's toes when working,” Yami listed off, closing the file for the job and tossing it onto one of the seats in the van. “Ijichi will be placing the veil for us and staying a safe distance away so if anyone needs help, find another student or a teacher.”

“I’ll have the twins, Inumaki, and Panda. Maki, Yuta, and Megumi will be with Yokai.” Satoru chimes in, ruffling Megumi’s hair. “I know you’re not technically a student yet but it’d be good to see what you’ll be up to next year.” 

“Yeah yeah,” Megumi grumbled in response. “At least I get to train with someone who won’t toss me off a building again.”

“It was one time!” Satoru gasps, faking a look of hurt as the rest of the students laugh or roll their eyes at his outburst. “I already got an earful from Suguru and Yaga about it.”

“There should be no building tossing this time,” Yami laughs. “Let’s get started though so we can get back before noon.”

Gojo huffs but directs his group of students toward the left half of the school, already starting to play fight with Nanako. Yami turns to her group of students; Megumi looking generally disinterested with his hands shoved in his pockets, Yuta holding a death grip on his sheathed katana, and Maki looking to Yami for direction, leaning on her naginata. 

“Let’s get started then kids,” Yami directs, pointing towards the main entrance doors. “We’re the right half of the building so lots of ground to cover. We’ll start at the top and work down.”

The group nods in response to her directions and starts their trek to clear the levels of the school. The top floor (5th) is fairly empty, with a few fly-head curses that Megumi and Maki easily take out. The fourth floor contains more fly-head curses along with some more lower-level bug and worm-like curses. 

“You use cursed weapons?” Maki asks, pointing down to Yami’s sheaths. “I’ve never seen something like those before.”

“Yep, they’re very easy to use in close combat,” Yami explains, drawing both blades. “These are called Ulu. They were a gift I got when I did a job out of the country. Much better than the old tanto I used to have.”

“So you’ll be helping with weapons training then?” Megumi adds as Yami sheaths the blades. “Gojo and Geto don’t use weapons so there hasn’t been much training with them.”

“I can tell. Yuta, loosen your grip there bud,” Yami teases, poking the boy’s hand that holds the katana. “It’s not going to run away from you.”

“Sorry, Yokai-sensei.” Yuta apologizes, loosening a bit. “Just a little nervous for my first mission.”

“What rank are you?” Maki cuts in, shaking curse chunks off her blade. “Nothing here yet should be terrifying you.”

“He’s wearing white,” Megumi points out, petting his recently summoned divine dogs. “He might not be ranked yet since they deem him problematic.”

“Play nice you two,” Yami scolds the two black-haired students. “The higher-ups must have determined your uniform.”

“But he still has a ranking, what is it?” Maki questions. “I’m a four, and Megumi is most likely going to land in grade two when he starts.”

“I don’t know,” Yuta says, eyes flicking between Maki and Megumi. “I don’t think I was told.”

“You most likely weren’t. That’d be Gojo’s fault.” Yami sighed, rolling her eyes. “You’re a special grade, like me and Gojo.”

“What!?” Megumi and Maki yell in unionson. 

“How?” Yuta turns to Yami, mouth agape. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You about killed everyone first day kid.” Yami laughs, patting him on the shoulder. “Rika alone makes you a special grade.”

“Even with him barely able to hold a sword?” Maki questions. 

“Yep. Curse spirit manipulation is a very rare ability. Geto is a master with manipulation of multiple spirits while others can control one spirit.” Yami explains. “There’s only about four people known to be able to control cursed spirits.”

“So Geto and Yuta,” Megumi counts on his fingers. “Whose else can do it?”

“Tsukumo Yuki is another special grade sorcerer that controls a spirit named Garuda that adds to her abilities.” Yami lists off, starting down the stairs to the third floor. “It’s an extension of her fighting style, like adding an extra sharp arm.”

“Whose the last one?” Yuta asks, following close behind with Megumi and Maki on either side of him. “It isn’t Gojo-sensei, right?”

“That man can’t even control himself, much less another spirit,” Megumi snorts.

“No, not him.” Yami laughs, stopping at the door to the third floor. “The last sorcerer is much cooler than Gojo.”

A groan sounds through the hallway as the group steps into the hallway, the remaining classroom doors shaking slightly. The divine dogs gather closer to the group of three students as Yuta grips his katana tighter again and Maki readies her naginata. Yami draws her ulus and trunks back to the students. 

“You three stay a good distance back,” Yami quietly states, pointing to the corner about thirty feet in front of them. “It’s most likely just around there.”

As Yami finishes her explanation, a loud shifting sound comes from around the corner as the creature comes into view. Its body was shaped like a massive slug, dragging its misshaped body along the hallway. Two arms grip the walls, pulling itself into the main hallway, and its blob-shaped head shifts to look down the hallway before shifting and seeing the group on the opposite end. Yami rushes the spirit as it lets out a wet growl and slashes through its arms, slicing the limbs off cleanly. The slug screams, new limbs bubbling to form out of its main body cavity as pale hands come out of a black pool in the ceiling above its head, gripping the sides of what should be its face. Quickly cutting horizontally across the body, silver blade-like slivers launch off the main ulu blades, cutting completely through the curse’s body as the pale hands above use a tanto to slice through its mouth, cutting from the maxilla up free from the rest of the body. As the pale hands retract into the ceiling, dropping the newly removed top part of the curse, Yami quickly side-steps the now-falling torso and the forming pool of sludge as the curse’s body melts. Flicking her blades clean and sheathing them, she turns and starts to walk back to the now stunned group of students, still awkwardly holding their attack position. 

“Such a mess,” Yami sighs, pushing some of her front hair back that came loose from her braid. “Everyone here good?”

“What was that?” The three students yell, the divine dogs adding in with barks for good measure. 

“Jeez, y’all are going to blow my ears out with all that.” Yami laughs, raising her hands in mock surrender, stopping about five feet away.

“So you’re….?” Maki starts and then cuts off in a half breath. 

A black pool forms above Yami as a torso sporting multiple pale arms comes down from the ceiling. Black hair spills from the head and flows to the floor, creating another black pool Yami stands in. Pale arms wrap closely around Yami, almost protectively as several outside arms brandish tantos toward the group of students. Hair strands split to reveal eyes as the pale blank head opens its mouth full of sharp teeth, lips split from ear to ear. Yami reaches up to place a hand gently on the face as it rests its chin on top of her head.

“The last curse manipulator?” Yami says. “You’d be right. Meet Kuchisake-onna.”

“The split-mouth woman?” Megumi asks. “You control the vengeful spirit Kuchisake-onna?”

“Ooo Gojo teach you all about the curse types already?” Yami questions, patting Kuchisake’s cheek, allowing her to sink back into the pools on the ceiling and floor. “I’m glad he’s taught you some of the basics already.”

“That’s why you were hired!” Maki exclaims, lowering her weapon. “You’re exactly like Yuta with Rika.” 

“Hey now not quite,” Yami laughs, finally walking back to the group. “We both have cursed spirits with us, but our techniques and forms are completely different. Plus I never had an execution order on my head.”

“No one knew of you,” Megumi sighs. “Society didn’t know of your existence. Gojo never told us even how you got hired here since not even he knew of you.”

“Tsukumo trained me and kept my existence a secret as I didn't have someone like Gojo to stop them from executing me,” Yami explains, hands on her hips. “Geto met me once years ago but didn’t know me more than a face and a name. Yaga found me through Tsukumo specifically because I can control Kuchisake-onna to train you (points at Yuta) to control Rika as a stipulation for you being released from your execution order.”

“Does Gojo know?” Yuta asks quietly, fidgeting with his katana.

“He knows I’m here to help train students and I don’t care for tradition in jujutsu society,” Yami states firmly. “Plus Yaga let him know the situation at least, just not much information about me, other than a name.”

“So us three are those know most?” Maki gestures to the three students. “At least about you?”

“Yep, don’t you feel special?” Yami laughs at the tired expressions on the kids' faces. “The rest will find out, don’t worry. Let’s just get through the rest of the floors and we can discuss more later.” 

The three kids nod as Yami leads them through the rest of the floor and the bottom two, meeting up with an equally tired group with Gojo. 

“So how’d it all go?” Satoru asks cheerfully, earning some glares from his own and Yami’s students. 

“Lots of low-level curses,” Yami replies with a shrug of her shoulders. “We had a big slug on the third floor but we dealt with it quickly.”

“Ooooo who had the honors?” Gojo teased, eyeing her group. “No one looks slimy.”

“She did.” All three reply, pointing at Yami.

“Really?” Gojo says almost surprised. “No trouble with it?”

“She handled it faster than you would have,” Megumi mutters, resulting in a squawk from Gojo. 

“Let’s just get back to school, huh kids?” Yami asks the group, resulting in a resounding ‘Yes’. “Call Ijichi to come get us and lower the veil Gojo.”

“Just boss me around, why don’t you?” Satoru murmurs as the students walk toward the veil barrier. “Like a wife. Got my kids already liking you and everything.”

“Not your wife,” Yami teases once the students are far enough away. “If you’re that jealous to see my technique, I can always give you a show.”

“A private showing of Yokai’s power?” Satoru smirks, finishing the text to Ijichi. “I’d be a fool to pass up an opportunity like that.”

“Yeah yeah keep it in your pants,” Yami goes to smack the back of Gojo’s head but is stopped by the infinity. “I can do a showing for you and the rest of the kids tomorrow for afternoon training. I’m sure Suguru would like to know too. He did keep me a secret for years.”

“I’ll let him know you’re willing to pay that favor forward,” Satoru laughs, starting a text to Suguru. 

“Gojo! Yokai!” Nanako yells from the now-falling veil. “Ijichi is here!”

“Coming!” Yami yells back. “Don’t give Suguru the wrong impression, Satoru.”

“I would never!” Satoru teases. “Do we get to see behind the mask tomorrow?”

“Let’s go Satoru,” Yami states, rolling her eyes and walking to the van as Gojo laughs behind her.

a/n: I know Geto technically has Kuchisake-onna in his arsenal but we're just gonna ignore that cause it's more interesting to have her as something like Rika.

[irithnova]

I actually have more questions.

What is Mongolia's human name?

And what was his first experience with a European like?

I call him Baatar Batbayar because I think it's cute haha.

And uh. Well. LMAO it wasn't exactly the friendliest to put that way.

When the Mongols travelled Westward, they didn't even really know where they were heading. Historian Morris Rossabi noted that the Mongols' entry into Europe wasn't a deliberate invasion; they lacked precise knowledge of their destination.

Europeans had limited awareness of the Mongols until their arrival, and it wasn't exactly a welcome one.

There's a pretty famous, pretty gruesome story relating to the battle of Kalka River (located in Modern Ukraine)

After the Mongol invasion in Central Asia and the fall of the Khwarezmian Empire, Jebe and Subutai led a force into Iraq-i Ajam. They asked Chinggis Khan for permission to keep conquering for a few years before rejoining the main army. While waiting for Chinggis' reply, they raided the Kingdom of Georgia.

Their plan was approved, and they passed through the Caucasus, defeating Caucasian tribes and the Cumans. The Cuman Khan sought help from Prince Mstislav the Bold of Halych, who formed an alliance with Rus' princes, including Mstislav III of Kiev, against the Mongols.

The battle was the Mongols against the allied forces of the Principality of Kiev, the Principality of Galicia-Volhynia, the Principality of Chernigov, the Principality of Smolensk and the Cumans (I'll call them the alliance for brevity.)

What happened (extremely brief)

At the battle of the Kalka River, the Mongol forces employed strategic withdrawal to lure the alliance into a dispersed pursuit.

When the Mongols made their stand, they positioned skilled archers on horseback at the front.

The alliance , misjudging the Mongols' retreat as disarray, charged prematurely, leading to chaos in their ranks.

Mongol archers on horseback skillfully disrupted the advance with precise arrow fire.

Mongol heavy cavalry, well-armed and equipped, crushed the isolated vanguard.

The combined Mongol forces, including mounted archers, routed the remaining troops, resulting in significant casualties and the capture of Mstislav the Daring

Here's the gruesome part

Jebe and Subutai ordered the suffocation of Mstislav the Daring and two other princes beneath boards during a victory celebration. They essentially sat on top of the boards celebrating as the princes suffocated to death

This is actually in Mongol custom - no, not necessarily crushing people to death while you party on top of them. But it was forbidden to spill royal blood, so when Mongols would kill royalty, they'd go for bloodless deaths.

So. Definitely not the friendliest introduction to Europeans haha! He definitely built a pretty bad reputation throughout Europe, especially after this stunt. Not that he particularly cared, in fact he probably actually enjoyed inciting fear in people.

Being feared meant people would surrender more often and more easily so it's less of a hassle if they do so rather than conducting a full-scale invasion.

He certainly would have had contact with some of the Europeans conquered under him or at least was aware of them. Lots of hate filled letters sent to him or sent to golden horde that he then read (he's nosy) from the likes of Hungary and Poland for example and on the special occasions he'd meet them himself (I think Golden Horde/Jochi ulus would be dealing with them a lot of the time) there was a lot of gritted teeth and that eras equivalent of middle fingers being launched at him from behind his back, hah!

Some more lovely interactions with Europe:

In 1236, they beat the Bulghars, and in 1237, they crossed the frozen Volga River with a massive army, causing destruction in what is now modern Russia. They destroyed cities like Moscow and Vladimir by 1238.

Then, they rested in the Don steppe while gathering more information about Europe.

After taking Kiev and Chernigov in Ukraine, the Mongols took a break to regroup and get more soldiers. In Europe, rumours of the "Devil's Horsemen" and a "Storm from the East" started spreading.

In Poland, the Mongols lured Polish troops into a trap near Kraków and plundered the city

On Palm Sunday.

Mongolia was definitely hated but it's not like that was anything new. His first experience is... Hard to say exactly but I can imagine again, receiving angry letters at first as he would accompany Chinggis and after Chinggis, whoever was the great Khan/overlord essentially and would aid in the great Khan's conquests so wasn't always present during those invasions in Europe.

First experience with a European nation was most likely during a visit to check in on how things were going and I'd put a finger on Poland potentially being one of the first Euro nations Mongolia met face to face during a visit (probably came after Krakow was razed to see uh what happened himself but ofc there were also previous visits Mongolia made to see the progress or to pretend to be a good father for a few days) and he probably tried to spit at him or something considering 🗿

I don't think Mongolia thought much of the appearance of the Europeans or was particularly perplexed by it, maybe a little curious but he just cared really if they complied and and how much progress was being made lol. He probably found the hate mail from those nations and small acts of defiance (like being spat at) somewhat amusing too but did make sorta try to make sure that it wasn't too much for golden horde or smth (woaw being a normal father for once 😍)

Ik I made him sound like an asshole and he was but in a boyboss way 👆

Btw I think Poland and Mongolia actually get along now LMAOO

[elvendorx]

notes:

liverpool, man city and man united are not options bc i think james (a southerner) has like someeee lowkey gloryhunting qualities as a football fan but not ENOUGH for him to be a fan of a team in the north, a part of england he has never set foot in (or at least hadn't aged like 5 when he got into football)

james has strong "support my dad's team" and "supports an 'underdog' that is actually a pretty solid/successful team" vibes

therefore london teams are acceptable for a kid from the west country, close enough for him to claim a loose connection through spending a lot of time there as a kid/it being his dad's team

james has "underdog but not a real underdog" supporter qualities

an important aspect of this (for me, a james/sirius and sirius®ulus obsessive) to consider is that regulus also supports a london team, but not the same london team as james, so the team that regulus supports has a bearing on the team james supports

[chiisanaka]

Now there will be an unfunny copypaste about desks.

A father comes to his little son and says: “Tomorrow you will go to kindergarten for the first time and if you study there well all year, then at the end of the year I will buy you everything you want!” And the son was like: “Shit question!”

For a whole year, his son went to kindergarten, did well there, and drew pictures. At the end of the year, he comes to his father and says: “Dad, I passed everything well,” and his father answers him: “Well done! What should I give you?”, and the son was like: “Desk, dad! Buy me a desk!”, and the father asks in surprise: “Exactly a desk??? I can buy you a toy car or a Lego set,” but the son answered without listening to the end: “No! I need a desk." To which the father said: “Okay, it’s a shitty question, I’ll buy you a desk.”

The next year, the father says to his son: “You are going to kindergarten again, give the same topic as last year: if you finish well, ask for what you want.” Son again: “Shit question, Dad!”

The year is over. The kindergarten is finished perfectly. The son comes to his father and shows that everything is fucking great. The father was delighted and gave his son a desk again, because he asked for it again.

Next year his son goes to school. 1st grade.

On the first of September, a father says to his son: “School is a responsibility! If you finish the year with straight A’s, I’ll give you everything you want.” The son was like, “I got you!”

He goes and treats everyone all year long just like this! Just A's! Finishes 1st grade, comes to his father, says: “Dad, I’m finished, give me a desk,” to which the father: “Are you sure it’s a desk?? You fucking already have two of them, why the hell do you need a third?”, the son responded: “Fuck, Dad, give me a desk!” The father agrees and buys him a desk.

His son went to 2nd grade. Dad comes up to him and says: “Same scheme, son. For a year of just A’s, I’ll give you whatever you want.” To which the son: “I heard you!”

So, the whole year was straight A's. Finishes 2nd grade, comes to his father and says: “That’s it! Here! Just A's. I want another desk, Dad,” to which the father: “Fuuuuck, you’re fucked. Oh well,” and gives him another fucking desk.

His son went to 3rd grade and his father said to him: “You will study well all year - at the end of the year I will give you everything you want.”

The son studied well all year and at the end of the year he comes to his father and says: “Please give me a desk.” Dad gives him a desk.

And his son went to 4th grade. And so his son did excellent in 4th grade.

At the end of the year, dad says to him: “Knockout! What should I give you?” The son replies: “Fuck, the desk, Dad!” The father responds: “You have nowhere to put these desks!” But dad is fucking a WORD man. He went and bought his son another desk.

His son went to 5th grade. His son worked very hard throughout the 5th grade. Stupidly everything is fucking A+.

At the end of the year he comes to dad and says: “Dad, only A’s! Let's! Another desk!”, the father was like: “I don’t give a fuck already. I give you a desk!”

His son went to 6th grade. Again, just straight A's. He took away all the difficulties.

He comes up to his father and says: “Fuck, only A’s. All. Give me a desk." His father buys it for him.

The dude went to 7th grade.

All year he studied with straight A's, not a single B' at all.

He comes to his father and says: “Give me a desk.” The father gave it and said: “Let’s finish the 8th grade the same way - I’ll give you everything you want.” To which the son: “Pfft. Hala-ulu!”

He went to 8th grade. A whole year with nothing but A's. At the end of the year he approaches his father: “Dad, everything is fine. Give me another desk." Well, his father gives him a desk.

9th grade. The father says to his son: “Okay, okay. If you pass these fucking exams, I’ll get you into the best university in the country!” The son is like: “Dad! Kill it! We’re working!”

His son is taking these exams. And he asks his father for a desk. The father says: “Well, are you crazy or where? Ask for something else already,” and the son answered: “No, I want a desk,” and they give him this desk.

After which the father says: “That’s it, son! 10th grade! You're going to 10th grade, damn it. If you pass with straight A’s all year, I’ll give you whatever you want.” The son is like: “Swept up!”

All. He passed the 10th grade with only A's, comes to his father and says: “Fuck, desk, Dad! I need you to give me a desk.” Dad gives him a desk.

11th grade. All. The father says: “Fuck! Now you’re closing the whole year, taking the Unified State Exam, and if you get into the coolest university, then I’ll give you a fucking car! I'll give you a house, fuck it! I’ll give you whatever you want!” The son was like: “I heard you!”

He graduates and enters the best university in the country. He brings the crust to his father and says: “Wow! The years are not in vain!”, the father responded: “Fuck! Knockout! What do you want? Let's! Shall we buy a car? Son: “No, I need a desk.” Father: “No, are you crazy? Why the hell do you need a desk??” Son: “Father! Don't fucking ask questions! I am an excellent student. Fuck off, that's it," father: "Got it. I fucked off,” and gave the guy a desk.

His son enters the university as a first-year student. Dad tells him: “If you close it without debts, without all the bullshit, everything will be done automatically - whatever you want will happen! Cars, chicks, whatever you want,” son: “Shit question.”

He closes the whole year simply on automatic machines, shows it to his father, his father says to him: “What are we going to buy?”, the son: “Desk, Dad.” Father: “Desk again?” Son: “Yes, the desk again.” “To hell with you, goldfish,” said Dad and gave this fucking guy another desk.

2nd year. The guy again finishes everything with just A's automatically. The teachers are delighted. He comes to his father and says: “Give me another desk.” Dad fucking gives it to him.

3rd year. His son gets straight A's in everything. Everyone is delighted again. Dad gives him another desk.

4th year. Dad comes up and says: “If you close the university, get a fucking great job, I’ll give you my entire fucking fortune” (and he was a rich man), the son is like: “I heard you! Ok!"

He closes everything. He defends his diploma perfectly. Gets the best paying job. He comes to his dad and says: “Dad, can I please have a desk.” Dad: “Are you fucking sure?? Are you sure, bitch? I can give you the best car!”, son: “Desk! Give me a desk." Father buys a desk.

His son gets a job. His father tells him: “Find yourself a wife, son. Find yourself the best wife and I will give you everything you want for your engagement: a romantic trip, a house in Hawaii - whatever you want.”

His son finds the best girl, from a decent family. He introduces her to his father, then the engagement and the father says: “What should I give you, newlyweds?”, the son says: “A desk.” The father, creaking his heart, buys another fucking desk.

Years pass. It's his father's anniversary. He turns 60 years old. The whole family gathers. And he is so joyful, because finally his son, his pride, will come to him. He invested his whole life in this son. He will come with his young wife. Father is so happy. And he hears a car drive up to the house and run out. He runs out and sees a beautiful car parking and his handsome son with his beautiful wife getting out of it. The son sees his father and runs to him, and then FUCK! His son is hit by a Kamaz truck!

The father runs up to the bloody body, takes it, shakes it, says: “Fuck, son! Live!” The son replies: “Father, it seems that’s all. Looks like I'm dying." The father sees death in his eyes and says: “Well, come on, at least tell me why all these years you asked me for a desk?” And his son, looking into his eyes, says: “Father... Because-” - and fucking dies.

[dragonedged-if]

15 Tags, 15 Mutuals

I wanna thank you @smzeszikorova for tagging me, also I want to apologize for those who is tagging me and not being able to answer.

For now free tag who wants to join, I'm running late for school lol.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Somewhat yes, My first name is a title; Chancellor, My family is into titles. For example we have; Princess, Duchess, Contessa, Duke.

Yup all titles in the fam lol.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday but I was crying in laughter because I watching a comedy movie.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope, but I consider my pups and doggy my kids.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Yup and a lot actually, in tagalog we call that person a “philosopo”.

For example we have a saying in tagalog; Matigas ang ulo mo(You’re so hard headed)

Then we children we will reply; Alangan meron bang malambot na ulu(Well duh? is there a head soft?)

Here's another one and one of my favorite.

Children: Ang init!(It's cold)

Parent: Eh ditangalin mo jacket mo(Then remove your jacket!)

Children: Magiging malamig naman(Then Its gonna be freezing cold)

Then the paretns will whoop the chid's ass lol.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

For me a lot of things because I tend to stay quiet and observe the people around me, I will notice the way they speak, their mannerisms, attitude and etc.

6. What’s your eye color?

Dark brown

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I like both if possible because I found very cliché’ that in every horror movie that the evil is still alive and the end credits will roll in.

8. Any special talents?

Writing, a good listener , improviser, a confident speaker.

9. Where were you born?

Batangas City, Philippines

10. What are your hobbies?

Writing, listening to music, playing chess, reading, playing video games.

11. Have you any pets?

Yup, 1 mother and 4 rascals pups :)

I named my 4 pups using my favorite ice cream flavors.

Choco, Vanilla, Mocha, Cream(Shortcut for Cookies&Cream)

12. What sports do you play/have played?

A lot actually, badminton, volleyball, basketball, dodgeball and others but I like badminton the most.

13. How tall are you?

I think either 5'6 or 5'7

14. Favorite subject in school?

English, Literature, a bit of science but most of all Social Studies.

15. Dream job?

Finish Medicine and apply for cardiologist.

But the job I’m aiming for is making my parents happy :)

[mibeau]

[CULTURE] Our Interests and Surroundings moulded our Linguistics Skills - Talk about the Bumis in Malaysia and Johor Heritage

Disclaimer: The Javanese mentioned here are the Javanese descendants in Malaysia and not Indonesian Javanese. In particular, Orang Jawa Johor (The Javanese People of Johor). And 'speak Malay' indicated Bahasa Melayu Johor. Everything shared is based on my observations and personal experiences of myself and Nadia, except wherever sources were cited.

***

Malays in Malaysia are diverse in ethnicities.

Within my family circles, they are Orang Jawa(The Javanese), Orang Bugis(The Bugis), Orang Laut(The Indigenous Malays of the Sea), Melayu Riau(Malays from Riau) and Orang Bajau(The Bajau). Often in Malaysia, especially in urban areas, if you have a slight Malay genetic makeup and you are a Muslim, your race is automatically a Malay. It was not until I went to University that I realised that was not always the case. Many Malaysians actually chose their ethnicities as their race in their NRIC(National Registration Identity Card).

My first exposure to this understanding was with my old friend back in the University.

Since he was from Sabah, I was not sure what his race was and was curious. So I asked, and he answered, “I’m Bugis.” I was baffled, cos no one ever told me their ethnicities in the first meets. So, I asked again, “So, you’re a Malay?” He again emphasised, “No. I am Bugis. Not Malay.” I’m confused. I was like, “But, ain’t Bugis also Malay?” He said, “Nooo… in Sabah, Malay and Bugis are different!” From there I understood that in East Malaysia they considered their ethnicity as their race, and most of them are sensitive about it. I also had a Muslim roommate who looked, Malay. She was from Sarawak. She had the same name as mine but with a Lee surname. So, I casually said, “Oh, your mom is Malay and your dad is Chinese?” She smiled and said, “No, I am not Malay, I’m half Melanau. And yes, my dad is Chinese.” There is Melayu Sarawak, but I learned that there is no such thing as a general term of Melayu Sabah. In Sabah, they do have Melayu Kedayan, Melayu Brunei and Melayu Cocos, tho. Although Kedayan is technically of a different ethnicity, they seem not to mind much being called Malay cos it seems they were quite similar or related(according to people I met)? Similar to the case of Kadazan-Dusun ethnicities. Due to their diversities in Sabah, most younger generations of Sabahan speak Bahasa Melayu Sabah which unites them. Unlike in Sarawak, people do speak Bahasa Melayu Sarawak, as much as many people speak Ibanese, too, due to large Iban populations.

A few years later, I helped my youngest sister sort her things in her hostel at a Polytechnic in Shah Alam, Selangor.

I can’t remember what the headlines but I saw a few candidate posters stating names, ages and races on the walls. What caught me was Bugis. I asked my sister, “There’s a lot of East Malaysians here?” “She replied, there are but not much. These are Bugis from Johor actually.” That was my second wave of understanding the local cultural dynamic. It hit me, that in suburbans, where one ethnicity is concentrated, they do tend to use their ethnicity as their race, regardless they are Westerners or Easterners of Malaysia. Although, generally in West Malaysia, we don’t really mind being labelled as Malays. I was ignorant because I had a cousin-in-law in Johor who speaks Bugis at home, but her NRIC still stated her race as Malay. Her family identified themselves as Melayu Bugis. She grew up in Kampung Bugis in Pontian. And my uncle(by marriage to my paternal aunt) is a Bajau from Ulu Tiram, Johor. But, he is Malay in his NRIC.

The unfortunate part about living in urban areas is, that the children tend not to use and practice the minor languages.

My cousins admitted that my uncle did teach them the Bajau language growing up, but since their grandparents had passed away and they lived in Johor Bahru, they did not practice and had forgotten most of it. My Uni bestie is from Labuan, her dad is a Dusun from Beaufort, Sabah. Even though she went back to the village at least once a year growing up, she only understands a bit and does not speak the language. Since all her cousins are also of mixed ethnic backgrounds, they simply used Bahasa Melayu Sabah. She used primarily Bahasa Melayu Sabah in her daily life in Labuan and speaks English at home. Her mother is a German-Chinese of Sabah. One of my besties in Johor Bahru, Nadia, speaks no Javanese except a few common phrases, despite inheriting some percentage of Javanese blood from her parents and visiting Kampung Jawa yearly for Raya gatherings.

I am delighted to interview Nadia, a Javanese Malay from Johor Bahru, Johor.

Her father is of Bugis-Jawa heritage, originally from Sungai Balang, Muar, Johor. He spoke primarily Malay at home. Her late mother, however, was a full-fledged Javanese from Parit Jawa, Muar, Johor. She grew up speaking Javanese with her family and the neighbours. So, growing up until today, Nadia does go back to Muar and mingle with the Javanese community at least once a year. When her grandparents were alive, she used to visit them monthly. Her fondest memories back in the village were playing with fireworks with her cousins’ children and the bustling surroundings during “rewang” and “makan time”, especially in the festive mood of Raya.

Nadia is fluent in Malay and English. Her favourite “Malay” dishes are; terung balado and bakso. A few simple Javanese phrases she can speak are like “Have you eaten?”, “How are you?” and numbers. To her, the similarity of Javanese to Bahasa Melayu Johor is only about 80%. However, she felt whenever she listens to the elders, it sounds more like Bahasa Indonesia than Bahasa Malaysia. Perhaps, due to their thick Javanese accents.

As early as her memories can reach, she has been exposed to the Javanese language since child.

Her late mother always used Boso Jowo with her immediate family and neighbours in Kampong. She remembered her late grandmother always spoke Javanese with her. It is always a fond memory of whenever her late grandmother laughs at her failure to imitate the Javanese words properly, and they laugh together. Her grandmother encouraged her to speak the language and patiently explained the meaning. Yet, the words failed to stick to her mind. Her younger self thought, that since people could understand Malay and I don’t use Javanese at home or outside of kampung, therefore, her lack of interest, hinders her progress in the language. Although she used Malay with the villagers, sometimes she will try to reply in broken Javanese. As an adult, she admitted that it would be nice if she could fully understand then the elders and people in the village converse. Like her, unfortunately, none of her cousins speaks Boso Jowo.

I once visited her village back in 2009 I think, with my family. I must say, everyone spoke Malay with thick Javanese accents there, even the local youngsters. I remember when we stopped a boy, probably around 10 years old to ask for directions, his accent was so thick that it surprised our family. My parents smiled and found it cute actually. I listened carefully to comprehend his words. After we moved on, I asked, “How come his Javanese accent is so thick, yet he’s Malaysian?” My dad replied, “We are in Kampung Jawa Cha… everyone speaks Javanese here. The boy probably rarely goes out from the village’s perimeter and is even schooled within.” When we reached her place, we were served with Nasi Ambeng Dulang. What amused me was, everyone else but us converse in Javanese. Fascinating.

Remember, Nadia’s Javanese proficiency is almost zero.

Yet, she speaks Japanese. She even took tests. She is the holder of the N5 JLPT certificate. (Japanese-Language Proficiency Test). Her Japanese is not completely grammatically correct, but, she definitely can guess any sentence if she knows the root words of the message of whatever the speakers were conveying. What inspired her to learn Japanese is her love for Anime (Japanese Animations). She finds the language cute and quirky. She has visited Japan twice: Kyoto and Osaka. Her favourite Javanese phrase is ‘Wes Mangan?’ (Have you eaten?) and her favourite Japanese phrase is ‘Onaka Suita!’ (I’m hungry!)

According to Nadia, language is a culture. By knowing different languages, you will be able to understand people better.

Me too, growing up with Johoreans and spending most of my adolescent years in Johor Bahru, I didn’t realise that we are influenced by the Javanese and Middle Eastern cultures in our foods and Malay dialects.

I only felt the differences when I visited other states and spoke with the locals. And when I found similar foods or cultures, it was due to the Javanese communities there. In some states, they do not understand what is “rewang”(community works together for the benefit of everyone, not limited to but usually for gatherings involving foods) and ‘kawen padok’(arranged marriage). I first realised the Arabic influences when I started to mingle with the Arabs back in Uni. My favourite Malay foods are Nasi Ambeng and Mee Rebus (A variation of Mee Jawa, yet less sweet and more starchy. Served with “kerak” = crunchy bits). For lauks, I love Asam Pedas Tetel and my father loved Asam Pedas Ikan Semilang. Must have Daun Kesum! It is common for us in Johor to eat in dulang(big round tray) during special occasions at the mosques or “kenduri”. We were taught that it is to strengthen relationships. The practice is not limited to only Nasi Ambeng. It can be nasi putih with other dishes as well. Or Nasi Minyak. However, I must admit, today, this tradition has been replaced by buffet menus, especially in urban houses.

 As an adult, I now understand even the Malay culture in Johor is a melting pot of many other cultures.

I assumed it was due to the demographic of our trading industry, as well as the royal history. To start, let’s talk about Johor Foods. Nasi Ambeng & Mee Rebus were brought in by the Javanese. Kacang Pool by the Arabs. One of the Johor Royal Family Members back in the eras craved Spaghetti Bolognese, so the Royal Cook invented Laksa Johor. Next, Dance and Music. Zapin Johor was inspired by a type of Arabic dance and created by the local Peranakan Arab community. Kuda Kepang Johor was brought in by the Javanese and later modified by the locals to remove the unislamic rituals. Ghazal, a music inspired by the Arabs, was brought in during the Johor-Lingga dynasty by people from Riau. Keroncong which originated from the influences of the Portuguese in Java Island, was brought in due to the interest within the Royal family. Today, all of these are considered Johor Heritage.

My parents identify themselves as Melayu Johor.

My late paternal grandmother was of Orang Laut-Javanese heritage. Her family used to live by the sea near Jalan Wong Ah Fook in Johor Bahru. She was schooled at Sekolah Bukit Zahra until Primary 4. Even in her days, since she lived in the city, she only spoke Malay at home and within the community. She understood a little bit of Javanese. She then was married to my late grandfather, a Bugis-Melayu Johor. They lived their whole lives in Kampong Melayu Majidee after they got married. My grandmother sells food and my grandfather was a notice officer. My late grandfather also, only speaks Malay and basic English. Note that Melayu Johor means their heritage was all blended with no significant traits of any particular ethnicity. Therefore, my late father and his other seven elder siblings also, only speak Malay at home.

The older generation tends to speak Malay with English terms. I remember my conversation with my late paternal grandmother, “Aku nak pegi bayar pine kat bando. Nanti bagitau bapak ko.”(Tell your dad, I am going to the city to pay ‘pine’.) I was like okay. Then I relayed the message to my dad and asked him further, “Bah, pine tu ape?” (Dad, what is ‘pine’?) He answered, “Ohhh.. maktok ko nak gi bayar Fine, denda denda…” (Ohh… your grandmother wants to pay ‘Fine’, government-issued fines.)

My late mother’s heritage is more diverse.

My maternal grandfather was of Bugis on his father's side and Chinese-Siam Johor on his mother’s side. I am not sure what language he spoke growing up, but, throughout his life, he spoke Malay, English and understood Bugis. My maternal grandmother’s father was Dutch(Indonesian) and her mother was a Melayu Riau-Persian from Tanjong Balai, Pulau Karimun of Kepulauan Riau, Indonesia. When she was still a baby she was given to her child-less aunt who married a Bugis Johor and lived in Parit Sulong, Batu Pahat, Johor, Malaysia. Although she originally had many siblings, she grew up as a bratty only child in the family (according to her). She did experience Japanese school during the occupation. Thus, she primarily spoke Malay, understood English and very basic Japanese. Interestingly, my late grandfather has never been to a Japanese school, I am not sure why. At home, my maternal grandmother speaks Malay and my maternal grandfather speaks Malay and English to their children. After married, they lived in one of the government bungalows in Kota Kecil, Kota Tinggi, Johor.

My maternal grandmother is a housewife and my maternal grandfather was a medical dresser. Back in the day, dressers and nurses did almost as much as the doctors. According to my mother, he often did visitations to rural areas in Johor for medical checkups and treatments of the people. And people actually called him Doctor. He even has his own dispensary room and the back of their home in Kota Kecil. She sometimes watched her father compounding medicines, and her father would happily explain the process.

Before my parents pursued their studies for tertiary education, they did their schooling in Johor.

My father went to Ngee Heng Primary School, Aminudin Baki Secondary School(SAB) and Sultan Ismail High School (SSI). All in Johor Bahru. My mother went to Laksamana Secondary School in Kota Tinggi until Form 3, before her family relocated to Johor Bahru. She completed her secondary school at IJ Convent Girls School until Form 5. She then proceeded to Sultan Ibrahim’s Girls School during her High School years. That was when my parents met, during their bus rides.

When I was young, I always wondered, we are all Malays, yet, why my cousins on my father's side were not comfortable with English?

Most of my uncles and aunts speak English but not comfortable much, unless they were in the army or government officers. Whereas, even though we mainly used Malay in our conversations, still, everyone on my mother's side speaks and understands English well. And their basic medical knowledge is better. But, for traditional foods, definitely people on my father's side, cook more delicious delicacies! Laksa Johor and Asam Pedas were my favourites! As far as I am concerned, my mother's side never cooked Laksa Johor at home and my mother was the first in the family that regularly cooked Asam Pedas at home. But, to be fair, my mother’s side always makes delicious Ayam Masak Lemak Cili Padi, another favourite of mine, and my mother’s favourite: Asam Rebus Ikan Baung, and these were rare on my father's side. Nonetheless, since we all are Johoreans, we always eat Kuah Lodeh and Sambal Kacang on the first day of Aidilfitri!

Slowly, I observed and comprehended. One, the languages growing up differ. Hence the proficiency. Two, the family dynamic and community were different. Hence, the basic knowledge and palate differences. But these days, the youngsters, my nieces and nephews from both sides, speak English equally as well as Malay. Unfortunately, many of them equally do not know many traditional dishes.

My maternal grandmother was only comfortable writing and reading in Jawi(Malay written with modified Persian-Arabic scripts).

Everything in her phonebook by the landline phone was all in Jawi. My Jawi before secondary school was very weak, I only knew the letters and was unable to construct any sentences except for my full name. So, whenever I had sleepovers at her place and she asked me to call someone, I was struggling to look through the phonebook and always had to refer back to her. Then, there was a time after she had an eye surgery when she had to spell out the letters for me and I was ‘crawling’ searching for the mentioned name or messages in the phonebook, haha. And my maternal Mak Ngah (Second-born Aunt), who is in her 70s now, was a secretary. She also prefers to use Jawi in her shorthand notes. I, myself and my brother, can write and read Jawi. Although, not as fast as the standard modern Malay. However, both of my younger sisters can only read a little bit of Jawi. And not comfortable writing in Jawi at all.

Time flies, and culture evolves. These are the reasons why State or Federal organisations and foundations are necessary to preserve and conserve our heritage in documentation. So that, our history is not wiped out in the future.

Other photos are sourced from Asam Pedas, Laksa Johor, Nasi Ambeng, Ghazal, Mosque, SSI and SIGS.

***

P/s: In my next article, inshaAllah I will write about an individual with Thai-Malay heritage in Penang.

[royal1asset-if]

15 Tags, 15 Mutuals

Thanks for the tag, @toribookworm22 and @primroseprime2019

Also free tag any one who wants to join.

1. Are you named after anyone?

Somewhat yes,My first name is a title, if you can guess a title who has a word "Chance" in it, congrats you know my first name :)

2. When was the last time you cried?

Yesterday but I was crying in laughter because I watching a comedy movie.

3. Do you have kids?

Nope, but I consider my pups and doggy my kids.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Yup, in tagalog we call that person a "philosopo".

For example we have a saying in tagalog; Matigas ang ulo mo(You're so hard headed)

Then we children we will reply; Alangan meron bang malambot na ulu(Well duh? is there a head soft?)

5. What's the first thing you notice about people?

For me a lot of things because I tend to stay quiet and observe the people around me, I will notice the way they speak, their mannerisms, attitude and etc.

6. What's your eye color?

Dark brown

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

I like both if possible because I found very cliché' that in every horror movie that the evil is still alive and the end credits will roll in.

8. Any special talents?

Writing, a good listener and a improviser.

9. Where were you born?

Batangas City, Philippines

10. What are your hobbies?

Writing, listening to music, playing chess, reading, playing video games.

11. Have you any pets?

Yup, 1 mother and 4 rascals pups :)

12. What sports do you play/have played?

A lot actually, badminton, volleyball, basketball, dodgeball and others but I like badminton the most.

13. How tall are you?

I think either 5'6 or 5'7

14. Favorite subject in school?

English, Literature, a bit of science but most of all Social Studies.

15. Dream job?

Finish Medicine and apply for cardiologist.

But the job I'm aiming for is making my parents happy :)

[kalekalengan]

i really wanna do where i go straight to her house and accompany her while she having maag cus im really really worried :((( she doesnt even reply to me which is okay because she having the most painful thing in her ulu hati but god i hope she's okay because i don't want to sleep without knowing if she okay and the stomach pain goes away

[unknownlunarei]

hello! how are you? :D

can you tell me a little bit about your OCs? (and does Neol glow)

My first ask yay!

Hi and i am fine as ever

As u know Neol is a tech guy he got his interest from his father, a machanic

He is actually a cyborg with certain powers (he has heart/core like iron man)

And he doesn't really glow but his eyes and core at certain situations

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[ghostlywritten]

If Only I Had Stayed In The Shadows - Chapter Twelve

James Potter x OC

A/N: At last, the long awaited chapter. Sorry for the wait, my laptop has been failing on me. Hope you enjoy.

Words: 3,8k

Prologue  Chapter One   Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four  Chapter Five  Chapter Six  Chapter Seven  Chapter Eight  Chapter Nine  Chapter Ten  Chapter Eleven

It was the last weekend before the beginning of the exams for literally everybody. The library was packed with not a single seat unoccupied as well as the common room, where people had even taken to sitting on the floor to study, the dorms being too sitfling.

I had been one of the lucky ones to get a seat at a table, revising my notes with James next to me.

"How do you brew the Elixir to Induce Euphoria?"

"You add shrivelfig, porcupine quills and stir four times anti-clockwise. Then you add a sprig of peppermint, Sopophorous beans and wormwood and stir six times anti-clockwise," James recited, twirling a strand of my hair between his fingers.

"That is correct."

"Yes!"

"Alright, your turn-"

"Hey, what about my reward?" James asked and I looked at him questioningly, "My kiss?" He pouted and I gave in almost immediately, not being able to resist his big earth-coloured eyes as I leant forward to press my lips against his.

"Hmm, that's it," he hummed approvingly and it made my face grow as I thought of him saying it during certain other circumstances. I was a girl, a sixteen year old girl, and of bloody course my mind would wander towards certain things that I could be doing instead of studying, now that I had a boyfriend...things, that I couldn't have had managed before on my own. And with a boyfriend as hot as mine I couldn't help but let my gaze linger whenever he stretched himself during Quidditch warm-ups, causing his shirt to deliciously rile up and reveal his abs, or watching him bite his lips whenever he concentrated hard on something, wishing he would bite me-

"Love? Cec? Hellooo?" James snapped his fingers in front of my face and I blinked. "Are you spacing out on me? Siriusly? After you dragged my ass to sit and study with you? Jeez, then ungratefulness stinks," he huffed in mock-annoyance and I shook my head to get the thoughts out.

"Sorry. What were you saying?"

"It's my turn. What colour does the Potion have and what is it for?"

"The colour should be a bright yellow and as the name implies, it's supposed to induce the drinker in a sudden euphoria."

"That is absolutely correct!"

"Of course it is," I replied arrogantly, flinging my hair before giggling. James smirked, leaning forward. "Come and get your reward then." My heart leaped in my chest but I managed to stop him with a hand on his chest. "Nah, I'm good," I teased with a shrug, briefly wondering where Marlene was. She would have been so proud of me right now. James frowned for a second before promptly throwing himself on me. "Uff, James!" I exclaimed, pearls of laughter escaping as he snuck his arms around me to lessen the blow of landing on the hard floor, pinning me down effectively with his body.

"How dare you reject my generous offer of rewarding you with a kiss?" James said gravely, chuckles drifting through his words, "You shall be punished with more rewards."

"Bite me!"

"Gladly!" I squealed as he started attacking my neck, nipping playfully at the sensitive skin.

"Can you stop with your childish antics?!” Lily's voice ripped through our laughter. She stood up with a peeved look, gathering her things. "Some people are actually trying to study!" She stormed off before any of us could form an answer.

James sprang up, adjusting his glasses as he held out a hand for me whilst looking after her. I brushed off any dirt from my clothes and went to sit down.

"I should probably go and check on her," he suggested and I wanted to ask why when he was already taking off.

"Alright," I said lamely to his back, watching until he disappeared through the portrait hole. I plopped back down on my seat, glancing at Alice, who was completely immersed in her notes, not even aware her best friend's departure. Looking down at my own notes, I tried to focus but my eyes kept drifting from word to word without taking anything in as my mind kept replaying the way James ran after Lily with little to no hesitation. 

'You're thinking too much into it...

...I wonder what they are doing right now...'

I sighed loudly, frustrated that I couldn't let it go. Peeking at the only studious girl at the table, I stood up. "I'm...gonna go to the loo," I excused myself and left when I received no response.

Walking out of the common room, I promptly slapped myself on the forehead.

Was I really going to follow them like a creepy, insecure girlfriend? Obviously.

Was I going to find them with the head start they had now? Obviously not. Dumbass.

Glancing back at the portrait of the Fat Lady guarding our entrance, I pondered whether to go back inside or try looking for them. Lily was most likely heading to the library to join Remus at his study table that he had occupied since this morning. I cringed at my own behaviour when I decided to look for them. 'Im just making sure she's fine so I can focus back on my exams,' I reassured myself, 'Nothing creepy about tha-'

"Ow-!"

"Oi, Cec," Sirius greeted me gruffly, holding onto my arm until I steadied myself as he had bumped against me quite strongly, "Sorry about that. Didn't see you from the corner."

"It's all good," I replied, glad for the distraction as I straightened my robe and looked up at him. He seemed distraught, his hair unkempt and his tie hanging loosely around his neck. I would have guessed he had a good snogging session if it weren't for the sad glistening in his eyes. "Hey Sirius," I called softly as he fidgeted, already turning away, "Is everything alright?"

"Hm?" he looked over his shoulder, his expression carefully blank, "Yeah, of course. Everything is fine. Why?"

I shrugged, not wanting to point out how he seemed less than his usual joyful facade. "Just asking. Where you've been anyway? I thought we would study together in the common room?"

His face twisted into something akin to anguish and I furrowed my eyebrows. "I was with Reg..ulus," he said, turning away.

"Did som-"

"Look, I don't wanna talk about it," he snapped.

"Sirius..." He stormed off towards the portrait hole and I was left staring after a back for the second time this day. I felt the worry built up, sensing that something bad must have happened. Because, no matter how hurt or angry Sirius was, he was always very good at hiding it. Unless he was drunk or something major had happened. And since he didn't seem drunk right now...my feet started moving before my mind had been made up, walking back towards the Fat Lady and pushing every thought of James and Lily into the back of my mind. This was urgent, my platonic soulmate was in pain after all.

Stepping into the common room, I spotted the black-haired boy rush up the boys dormitory and steeled myself before following him upstairs, hoping nobody saw me step to left instead of the right passage towards the rooms. I tentatively walked down the small hallway I had never dared to step in in all my six years before, searching the signs on the doors for the Sixth Year's dormitories. Pressing an ear on one of the doors, I listened for any sound. Fortunately, there were some shuffles and the familiar voice of my friend cursing as he dropped something heavy. Just as I contemplated on whether to knock, the door swung up revealing Sirius, who had rid himself of his robe and jumper, holding a bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand and the other tightly wound around the door handle.

"What are you doing?" he asked, narrowing his shining eyes.

"I-"

"Just leave," he grumbled, his voice tense as he was holding back the tears that hadn't fallen yet. Dread filled me now as he rushed past me to the bathroom, shutting the door soundly behind him. Something was seriously wrong. This time, I didn't hesitate to follow him, pushing back the cringe at opening a boy's bathroom and peeking in. The room was empty except for one shower cabinet in the far back where the water was turned on, running at full blast.

"Sirius, I hope you are not naked, because I'm coming in," I warned, giving him a second before I opened the cabinet to find him sitting on the floor, drinking from the bottle of Firewhiskey as the water pattered down on him.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" he mumbled, his voice thick and croaky from the burn of the alcohol, "I don't want to talk about it." He leaned his head back, closing his eyes as the water trickled down on his face and further, drenching his clothes.

"We don't need to talk," I said quietly, hoping he could hear me over the water, "I just wanna be here for you." And with that, I stepped in fully-clothed and closed the cabinet door behind me, sliding down next to him as I proceeded to get completely wet in a less than a few seconds. Sirius kept quiet, only raising his bottle to me before pressing it against his own lips when I shook my head, wondering which of the drops trailing down his face were from the shower head and which from his sorrowful eyes.

I wasn't sure how long we sat there but Sirius got up after what seemed like hours, clearing his throat as he lowered the water volume. "I'm...gonna get you the Invisibility Cloak so you can sneak out. Wait here." I nodded. "And don't turn the water off or someone might come in." I nodded again and he stepped over me, pushing the door open and disappearing from sight. I sighed as he left, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of my clothes sticking to my skin. He came back after a few minutes with cloak and wand in hand, casting a Hot Air Charm over me as I got up and turned off the shower head. It was completely silent, but somber in some way as we proceeded to walk out of the bathroom with me under the cloak and him at the front. He held the door open, squinting to see if I had passed and I mumbled a quiet 'thanks' when I was out.

Nodding, he stepped out as well, shoving his hands into his pockets, having dried himself as well. "I will...see you around," he said, a softness in his voice and slightly slurring, "I'm just gonna head to bed."

I nodded before realising he couldn't see me. "Okay. Sleep well, Sirius."

"You too."

Turning away, I took a few steps when I heard Sirius whisper my name. "Cec, I- thank you. For being there," he stammered, seeming uncharacteristically unsure of himself. I wondered then, how many people he had shown his emotional side before. Guessing from what I knew about him, I would say it dwindled down to the four people he kept the closest plus maybe Regulus. It warmed me, that he now included me into that circle as well even if I kind of forced him to as I had followed him around. "Cec?" he called out questioningly, his grey eyes flittering around as he pondered whether I was still there or not. I quickly stepped back towards him, carefully taking his hand and squeezing it slightly. "You're more than welcome, Sirius," I whispered and his eyes softened when I raised my cloak to let him see me for a split second. "Good night."

"Good night."

Walking down to the common room, I noticed a considerably less amount of people were gathered around to study, mostly Fifth and Seventh Years. But Alice was still there and even Marlene had joined her, though her face rested on her notes as she drooled on them, fast asleep. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I noticed it was past nine o'clock. The thoughts of Lily and James that I had pushed into the back of my mind resurfaced and I swept the room with my eyes in search of either of them. There was no way Lily would have gone to bed so early on the last days before the exam and I briefly remembered all the times we had together to study until past midnight for our O.W.L.'s last year. 'Was she still at the library?' But the library had been closed for an hour now.

My stomach grumbled in that moment and the sound resonated throughout the otherwise quiet room. I blushed, despite the fact that no one could see me under the cloak, as a few heads raised in confusion. Only now did I realise how hungry I was since I had missed dinner and also skipped lunch earlier this day. 'A quick snack from the kitchen it is,' I decided, walking towards the entrance and out of the common room. 'And on my way I can make a short detour to see if Lily actually managed to convince Madam Pince to let her stay past the closing hours to study. Wouldn't put it past her to play the Prefect Card for this.'

Skipping down the stairs, I took the corridor to the library and found it entirely deserted. I sighed relieved, not knowing what exactly I was relieved for, as I turned away to head towards the kitchen. The halls were empty and dark, with the occasional light of the half-moon breaking through the tall windows and I breathed in the fresh air of a summer night, enjoying the peaceful silence as I strolled towards the kitchen.

But the peace would only last for so long.

I reached the corridor with the painting of the fruit bowl, fastening my steps as my stomach gave another protesting growl. Just when I was about to tickle the pear in the painting, anticipating all the good food the elves would cook in a matter of minutes, the door opened from the inside, nearly banging against my forehead. I stumbled back as the door swung to the side, revealing James. My heart skipped a beat in surprise but also at the sight of twinkling eyes that seemed unnaturally light in all the darkness surrounding us. Grinning, I grasped at the hem of the cloak, ready to spook him when he turned back towards the kitchens, engulfing his face in a warm glow of light coming from the big room.

A shadow crossed his features and he held his hand out for Lily, who was laughing softly as she took it, letting him help her out of the hole. "Thanks," she said.

"You are very welcome," James replied with a grin as the door shut close, engulfing us all in a sudden darkness. I blinked, squinting in hopes to see better as my eyes adjusted. For a second everything was silent before the two started walking. Biting my lip, I followed them before I could think about what I was doing. 'We are all headed to the same direction, I can't help it that I need to walk behind them. And since I'm not hungry anymore- oh, who am I kidding, I'm starving,' I complained to myself, cursing my brain for having the urge to spy on the two in all my insecure glory.

They walked in silence for a while before standing on the staircase.

"Thanks for the food," Lily spoke up as they waited for the stairs to stop moving, "I really needed it."

"Figures. You didn't eat anything today," James replied.

"How do you know that?"

"Eh," I could practically feel him blush as he stammered for an answer. "I just saw you and Cec studying all day, so I guessed that you hadn't eaten anything yet. Cec hasn't at least."

"Right," Lily said quietly, walking up the stairs as they stopped moving. I followed silently, watching the moon reflect on her brilliant red hair and noticing James did, too. "You know, I was surprised how you two suddenly got together."

"Hm?" James hummed, looking at his shoes as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robes.

"I mean, one day you were asking me out and the other you were suddenly hanging around with her and started dating," Lily said in joking manner and James chuckled along, though I couldn't grasp the joke in it. "It was...surprising, yeah," she ended awkwardly and the mood turned somber.

"Well, I guess it surprised a lot of people," James chuckled again, seemingly nervous as he ran a hand through his messy mop of hair. "But, Cec is great. She is amazing, really," he added, his voice turning steady and gentle, tugging at my heart strings. I felt a smile form on my face.

"She is quite great, yeah," Lily agreed softly. Now I felt bad for eavesdropping. 'You're siriusly messed up, dumbass,' I scolded myself. But I didn't stop. "I'm happy for you guys. It's nice to see Cec so happy and seeing a normal side of you."

James scoffed, "Normal?"

"What?" Lily giggled.

"What side of me has not been normal before?"

"I'm just saying, it's refreshing to know a side of you that wouldn't enchant cupids to read me sappy poems and throw pink glitter all over me," Lily recalled, laughing to herself as James blushed beet-red.

"Well, normal is overrated anyway," he muttered into his tie, smiling as Lily bumped her fist against his arms.

"I kinda miss it," she said and I noticed her eyes widen as soon as the sentence left her mouth. James' lips quirked up, his eyes shining. "Do you now?" he asked smugly, laughing as she slapped his arm.

"I mean," she started but paused. The mood turned slightly somber as she fiddled with her sleeve.

"You mean?" James prompted almost eagerly and I bit my lip, the tugging in my heart strings turning to harsh pulls.

Lily sighed, "It's nothing. Just, now that I know the 'normal' side of you, the one, you probably show to your friends and Cec...I think, all the stuff you used to do was quite endearing."

James kept quiet for a second. "You mean, when I endlessly chased after you?"

"All the things you did to ask me out. The cupids, the flowers, the sweets...," I distinctly heard Lily gulp as she stopped and turned towards him, causing him to falter in his steps, too. "I didn't recognise it back then, but it must have cost you a lot of effort and I think that's sweet..." James held his breath. "...and a little bit excessive." They both chuckled lightly before turning quiet, staring at the other.

"So, it was not for nothing after all," James muttered softly, almost as if he were dazed as he stared into her eyes. I clutched at the cloak tightly, feeling cold all of a sudden.

Lily cocked her head to the side, strands of red hair gliding over her shoulder like ocean waves. "Yeah. It did not get me to say yes back then, but..."

"But?" James pressed, taking a step forward.

Lily took a deep breath as if she were preparing herself for something, "But...if I had known this side of you before, I might have agreed. To- you know." I stilled, my tight grip on the cloak loosening slightly. James' eyes widened and I could see the elation spread through his face even if he didn't smile.

"To going out with me?" he asked breathlessly. Lily hesitated before she nodded. For a minute, we all stood in silence as James stared at her, dumbfounded. Lily's eyes flickered around as if she were scared to get caught. "Anyway, it doesn't matter!" she stated, too loudly for the quiet atmosphere, "I mean, you are with Cec now and you guys are happy."

"Yeah...yeah we are," James said, still in stupor.

"Yeah, so..." Lily gestured forward, turning to start walking again.

"But what if we aren't?" James spoke up, causing her to halt in her footsteps. My heart stopped.

"What?" she asked, looking at him over her shoulder.

It was James' turn to take a deep breath as if he were preparing himself for something, "What if Cec and I weren't happy?"

Lily furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean? You guys look besotted with each other."

"Yeah, that's the thing," James said firmly, determination flooding his features. "We look like we are besotted with each other. It was an act." I swayed slightly as if I had been punched in the chest. "It was just an act." It was just an act. The words seemed to echo in the hallway, pounding relentlessly into my eardrums as I stood frozen, staring the bespectacled boy.

"It was an act?" Lily asked incredulously. James nodded. She turned towards him fully in disbelief. "You were acting like you were together?!" James nodded again. "Why?"

"I was trying to show you a more civil side of me," he said and my eyes widened. 'Be civil' I heard my own voice resonate through my mind. I tried to keep my breathing even as my chin trembled. "I wanted you to see what kind of guy I am since you wouldn't go out with me. I wanted you to see the real me. How I would be if we were together."

Lily stared at him. "I don't even know what to say...," she trailed off.

"Since you appreciated all the efforts I put into asking you out, you could appreciate this as well?" James asked hopefully and I was starting to feel sick. It was just an act. Something in me shattered. I turned away, trying to shield the little, constricting organ in my chest from his words.

"But wait, is Cec part of this? How is she managing to pretend this whole time?" she pondered and James' face fell. Noticing this, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Is she pretending, James? Does she know about your relationship being an act?"

James tensed up, biting his lip as he glanced away and it was all the answer that Lily needed. Her emerald green eyes widened. "James...," she breathed in disbelief, "How could you do this to her?"

"Listen, Cec won't take it too hard," James tried as Lily shook her head in disbelief, "She knows it's nothing serious. We've grown closer, yes, as friends."

"I don't think she sees it like that," Lily responded and I chose that moment to walk away. Because she was absolutely right.

Chapter Thirteen

[walker-journal]

Legend of the Vermilion Bird (Adam +Leah)

Characters: Leah Ramirez (Phoenix- Julie), Adam Walker (Hunter-Tapir)

Location: Just outside the Vural Property

Timing: Shortly before the events of And From the Ashes

Summary: After killing a Torple, Adam consults a wary Leah about the nature of phoenixes 

Content Warning: Woerm gore

The forest road was alive with the subtle rustling and animal calls of spring as Adam skinned a large Torple that’d shuffled onto the Vural’s property, instinctually drawn by the taste of spellcraft that practically saturated the area. The Hunter supposed such predators were a hazard of having so much mojo concentrated in one place. Being a muggle himself, Adam wasn’t in much danger from these lumbering magic-eating worms, but the Hunter felt it behooved him to quietly take care of threats to his significant other’s family. 

The Torple looked like the big-mouthed lovechild of a naked mole-rat and an earthworm with massive human teeth. Even seated on a hefty moss-covered rock, Adam was barely taller than the corpulent segmented creature. It’s webbed limbs were spindly in comparison to its body while its enormous yet unsettlingly humanoid mouth made it a wonder the Torple could move at all. It jaws were immovable once latched on, but it was the thick glistening layer of magic negating mucus covering the magivore that made Adam preemptively take a machete to it outside the boundary of his hostesses’ wards, lest its mere presence unravel them. 

Adam worked a curved ulu knife down the dead Torples’ sides, scraping the anti-magic slime off with the skinning blade and scooping it into nearby barrels. He vaguely felt Leah’s approach before he heard her footsteps, the icy-heat of her paranormal presence growing stronger as she approached. Once he caught sight of the familiar face, the Hunter took his hand  off the handle of a hidden blade and got back to scraping Torple slime. 

“Hey Library Warrior, could I have a minute? I need to ask you about something.” 

Having Bea back in town felt like relief.  When she died, Leah had been so caught off guard that she was always waiting for the other shoe to drop now that she was back to life.  At any given moment, she expected another phone call from Nell or Felix or anyone telling her that it happened again, that there was no way to fix it this time.  And New York felt so tauntingly far away, especially to someone who had barely ever left White Crest.  And so the news that her best friend was coming back to town made the tension ease from her neck- had she been holding her shoulders that tight the whole time she’d been away?

Maybe she had been spending too much time at the Vural Sister’s house that weekend (to be fair, one-third of the sister trio would have said any time Leah spent there was too much, but that’s besides the point), but for the tension to truly escape her, she need some real, tangible time with her friend. 

While Bea was busy inside cooking, Leah chose to explore the property outside, eager to soak up some sun and enjoy the chill of winter finally breaking.  She grimaced when she happened upon Adam, and watched him with an unamused expression.  It was kind of easy to ignore that he was a hunter, most of the time, but not when he was slicing something up right in front of her.  She let out a breath when he called out to her, sitting on her hip.

“What’s up?”, she asked.  She was sure he was just curious about a book, or something- maybe he lost his copy of Green Eggs and Ham.

“What is that there?” she asked, gesturing to the creature he was scraping.  Damn her and her innate curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

“I need to ask you about Phoenixs,” Adam replied with the blunt directness that frequently came when one was focused on multiple tasks at once. “There is a fire chicken that’s gone supernova in a valley. Luce is like...a fire scientist but she isn’t sure what would make em go..” Adam made a sound in his throat evocative of an explosion. I was wondering if you’d heard of anything like that,” the Hunter asked of the Not-Spriggan. 

Adam patted the enormous human-mouthed earthworm with a gloved hand as he scrapped more slime from the corpse into a bucket. “This is a Torple, they hunt people who do magic,” Adam supplied. “The Vural place is kinna a beacon with the Hogwarts stuff going on.” 

Leah felt her eyebrows furrow at Adam’s statement- both at the boldness with which he said it, and the statement itself.  She felt heat rise to her cheeks- did he know about her?  Was the knife he held over the creature actually intended for her- her tears or information or life? But no, Nell wouldn’t let that happen, right?  Nell would have at least warned her if he found out.   She felt herself visibly relax when he explained more, swallowing before she responded.  “Luce told me about this, but… what makes you think I know anything about phoenixes?”, she asked, trying to remain stoic and unblinking.  “They’re just about the rarest known creatures- information is pretty rare on them.”  The last time they spoke on the subject, Adam himself had thought phoenixes only ever spent time in their firestate, which was laughable, at best.  “You want to explode them?  I don’t think Luce is down with that idea. And neither am I, if you’re taking my help.  You need to find a way to cure them, not kill them.”  Killing the corrupted phoenix would be very, very easy.  Adam could take notes from Dorothy and the Wicked Witch of the West, if he wanted to be cruel like hunters tended to be.  

She pressed her lips together, unable to look at the slaughtered earthworm for too long.  Torples.  She’d heard of them, but not a ton.  She’d have to see if they had anything written up on them when she went home later tonight.  “Well- it’s good that you got it, then”, she said with an awkward nod, glancing at the bucket.  “Is the slime useful, or something?”

“Because you’re like... a supernatural librarian lady,” Adam pointed out as if this somehow gave Leah some form of nerd-omniscience. “I figured that you’d be a person to ask about something that rare y’know?”

Leah seemed to misinterpreted his amazing sound effects. “Hey hey hey,” Adam exclaimed with a note of petulance, holding up his slimy free hand in a staying gesture. “Look, that Phoenix was already exploding when we found it ok,” he asserted with boyish pique. “What I mean is that I was wondering if you knew how we could switch them into I dunno... unexplode mode, like a song, some herbs they like, an off button, we’ll take anything.” 

Adam went back to driving his blade into the annelid’s side, exposing the yellowish nerve cords beneath its ridged skin. “It interferes with magic,” he explained. “Honestly, because of how many damn Chickcharneys there are around here, I end up dunking alotta people in this slime to try and bounce the Chickcharney curse off them.” Adam chose not to mention the part where he’d erased a wizards wards with this slime and accidentally become an accessory to murder. 

Leah let out a slow breath, watching Adam carefully.  He wasn’t… wrong.  But what were the ethical implications involved with helping a hunter learn about one of the rarest, most vulnerable species that existed? 

What were they if she let someone like Adam try to figure it out on his own?

She rolled her eyes at his defense, but held her hands up in apology.  “Sorry- I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”  Even though it was so hard not to with a hunter. She walked closer to him as she continued.  “I told Luce that I have an idea of how the phoenix got so out of control, but up until now, I thought it was only a myth.”  She paused- could she really trust him?  When she thought about it, she wasn’t sure, but maybe it didn’t matter.  What difference would it make if Luce and Adam were working together in this?  One way or another, Adam was going to find out.  Better it be out of the horse’s mouth.  

“We call them corrupted- it means that their ashes were on corrupted ground when they were reborn.  Sometimes the corruption happens right away, and other times the phoenix could be well into adulthood, with a life and a family before it happens.  There are no warning signs, either.   I don’t… I still haven’t found a cure in my research, but…”  She took a deep breath before continuing, and her next words came out faster than she intended.  “If this phoenix doesn’t survive…whatever you end up doing... the best way to help them in the next life is to keep their ashes somewhere safe and sacred.”

At that imagery, Leah couldn’t help but crack a smile.  “Are you telling me you make a habit out of performing Torple Slime Baptisms, so to speak?”

The palpable feelings of otherness intensified as Leah got closer, there’d been a time when Adam would have immediately gone into fight or flight mode when his Hunter senses reacted. But in White Crest he’d had to acclimate. That conditioning was an asset when hunting alghoul out in the sticks, but here it could end up him going all kill-zone on a librarian. 

Adam paused his gory worm skinning and listened to Leah as she spoke. He noticed the use of the word ‘we’ but kept silent and impassive during the explanation. It turned out that Luce had already tapped Leah on this matter, which was unsurprising. But while he’d hadn’t doubted that she was knowledgeable, Adam’d already suspected that Ramirez wasn’t your average bibliophile, but she knew even legends of the legend. 

“We ….as in the Maine librarian’s union?”  Adam’s question was playfully phrased. There were many species, secret societies, and so on that did not appreciate their ways being pried into, and Adam didn’t want to start shit with the one person who seemed to have solid intel on Chernobyl phoenix. 

“I would rather they survive,” Adam assured. “At the end of the day I’ll do what it takes to protect civilians, but from what you’ve said it sounds like this is some demon radiation juju that they didn’t have any say in.” 

Adam inhaled. “But, if it does come to that, has your research given you any idea of a holy place that’d work for keeping the ashes safe? Maybe some place sacred to uh...I don’t know if Phoenixes worship any gods,” he admitted. “But maybe somewhere that means alot to their culture?”

The unexpected jocularity of the question, from Leah especially, took Adam openly off-guard, teasing a sheepish smile from him. “Uh yeah actually,” he admitted while scrapping some more slime off the giant mage-eater worm into a bucket. “It’s not glamorous and the clients always hate it, but the Torple-dunkage sometimes works for really minor stuff like that.”

Leah blanched, blinking at Adam’s question.  Had she been so careless to say we?  “I uh… we as in, me.  Of course. Me,us.  And the other people who are interested in supernatural history.”  She swallowed, unsure if Adam were picking up on her status as a phoenix or her status as a scribe.  Possibly both, right?  This close, he had to be having those creepy senses that she wasn’t as human as she appeared.  Either way, it was bad news.  

“I’d rather that too, but I don’t think it’s unrealistic to prepare for the worst, either.” Something Adam said struck a chord in Leah, and she couldn’t stop herself before she commented.  “I mean, that’s true of most supernatural creatures though, isn’t it?  Born or bitten, werewolves, zombies, and vampires didn’t have a say in.  Do you grant them the same courtesy when they’re out of control?”

“I know a few places that could work”, she said, crossing her arms over her chest.  Whether she would tell Adam unless he absolutely needed them- that was another story.  “Not necessarily a culture to be had per say.  Because of their rarity and ability to blend in, it’s not often a phoenix ever meets another like them in their lifetime.”  She and her family were so incredibly lucky to have each other to love; to grow and learn from when they were the most vulnerable.  “I...know a family that would take care of the baby once they’re reborn, too, so-... if it comes to that, it’ll be all covered.”   

Leah let herself get a good look at the creature, taking as many mental notes as she could to write down later.  Sometimes Adam wasn’t as bad as he seemed.  “I think most people would be pissed if you dunked them into a baby pool of slime and sludge.  I certainly would.”

“It depends,” Adam answered without any attempt at dissemblance. “Gotta measure their life against the lives of those they’d kill when outta control,” the Hunter continued as he got down from the rock he’d been perched on to move his flaying blade to the Torple’s lower portion. “Most humans just get ripped in half if they meet a vamp that's gone all hunger frenzy, but I was born strong enough to match them,” he reasoned. “In the ideal scenario I wrestle the vamp or whatever off the civilian and get them to snap out of it.” 

Adam took the long strip of worm skin over to a tree and slung it over one of the branches to dry in the sunshine. “But uh, reality doesn’t give ideal scenarios most of the time y’know? Sometimes you have to make a split-second judgement or alotta people die,” the Hunter admitted. “ But yeah, I guess the best answer I can give you is that I try.” 

“That uh...sounds pretty lonely, being all human torchy and not having anything to relate to what the hell is going on,” Adam admitted, as he walked back to the Torple corpse. “Do you do the supernatural foster care stuff alot Leah?” 

Adam rolled his eyes amiably at the resistance to necessary alien-worm slime dunking. “Hey  Chick-a-Curses are worse though. Like all of their hexes are bad, but the one your head twists backwards...gah!  I either have to bribe a witch to visit their hospital room and decurse them, or I have to sneak in and pour worm slime over some poor bastard in a hospital bed and hope it works.” 

“Most vamps get stabbed if they meet an egotistical hunter”, Leah countered immediately.  “I appreciate your attempt to be civil in the way you handle things, but I don’t find the same to be true for most hunters.”  She couldn’t help but get into these debates with the hunters in her life, and if she were being honest, she didn’t really tire of them, either.

“It’s not all bad.  I know you assumed at first that they’re literal chickens, but like I said- phoenixes spend most of their time looking like humans.  And while a lot of them end up growing up not knowing what they are until they sneeze some smoke or look for a reason feathers are popping out of their foreheads, they’re not lost for companionship.  I’ve even heard tell of families who are able to stay together throughout their cyclical lives, raising each other generation after generation.  This is incredibly rare, of course.”

She blanched at Adam’s next question, opening her mouth and closing it.  She thought of the golden goose egg, still safely incubating in her basement, surely ready to hatch at any moment.  “I… how did you know I meant myself?”

Leah couldn’t help but laugh at his anecdotes, no matter how much she wanted to disavow them for being those of a hunter.  “That doesn’t sound like a fun way to wake up- are witches so untrustworthy of you that they don’t trust that your slime is for good?”

Adam rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Y’know, if I made the same argument in reverse about ‘most vamps’ being violent and evil you’d call me out for generalizing and being a bigot Ramirez,” he pointed out. 

Adam decided not to point out the fact that statistically the deaths on humans at the hands of vampires were uncountable orders of magnitude greater than vampires dying to Hunters. But frankly, it was pretty fucking obvious that Leah considered one supernatural life precious, but human lives were just numbers to her, devoid of emotional significance unless she knew them personally. 

It’s pointless to argue with people like that. 

“You don’t know ‘most Hunters’ Leah, not even close,” Adam pointed out bluntly, “Look Ramirez you hate people like me for reasons that are obviously personal. I’m fine with that.” the footballer said with a shrug of his broad shoulders, as if he felt this truce of hate sufficient. “It’s chill. 

Despite the slip into harsh words, Adam continued to listen patiently to the talk of phoenixes, families, and cycles of rebirth. It was all pretty surreal honestly. What would it be like to be with his family across a thousand lives over and over?

He wouldn’t know. Adam had grown up being raised with the knowledge that every moment with his family was precious, that he needed to learn how to survive on his own before they fell one by one in the line of duty. 

Adam hacked into the Torple with an unnecessary force as his chest constricted. 

“Do they line...remember each other each rebirth? Or are they all new different people each time?”

Leah’s unexpected motion of surprise caused Adam’s attention to flick to her instinctively, but her following question dispelled the moment of tenseness. “I didn’t,” he admitted. “I more meant that you seemed to already have homes in mind as if you were a supernatural social worker or somethin.” 

“You….really down to be a fire mom Leah?”

Adam considered Leah’s question for a moment. “I think that magic, like all resources, should be used for the betterment of society,” Adam said, hinting at a certain level of utopianism behind the memes and crass commentary. “But I can’t force everyone to think that way. If I’m going to bug a busy sorceress to leave her research to cure some rando she doesn’t know, I need to be able to pay her. Just how it is.’ 

Leah rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.  Adam was ignoring the fact that the violence that came from vampires was out of their control, and many of the deaths that came from them were for a need to survive.  Hunters, however, had plenty of control over what they did, and though there were a few gentle ones like Adam or Kaden, most would do what they did for sport, if given the chance.

“Neither do you”, she shot back.  And he’d never had to fear them, either.  She’d read countless stories about the atrocities they’d committed, and so excuse her if she didn’t trust a hunter as far as she could through them.

Again, his questions about phoenixes gave her pause.  Was this information relevant?  “It depends”, she explained.  “Not always concrete memories that you or I might have from last week or last year, but it’s more like… glimpses or feelings.  Sometimes even that doesn’t pop up right away, either.  Most phoenixes end up with a touchstone through most of their lives to help them connect.”  The touchstones didn’t always work.  She felt an invisible buzzing pull from the stone around her neck, taunting and teasing.  

She blanched at his elaboration, embarrassed that she’d assumed so quickly.  She didn’t hate the idea of that type of job, if she were being honest- supernatural social work sounded extremely fulfilling.  “Maybe I am on the side”, she teased.

“If it came down to it, yes.  But even if I couldn’t, there are arrangements I could make, if I’m being completely transparent.  Do you think you’d do the same thing, if you needed to?”

“I agree- but sometimes an idea like that is hard, because the idea of a better society can be so subjective and even divisive, you know?  What you and I think might be wonderful isn’t going to be the same as Joe who works at Excalibur.”  It was true,  Excalibur Joe had told her more than once that he thought the world would be better off without traffic lights.  “That’s not to say I don’t think betterment can happen- it’s just that the hard part is figuring out exactly what that betterment is for everyone.”

“You're right,” Adam allowed with the rueful triumph of someone who felt pain after a headbutt but took satisfaction in his opponent getting the worst of it. 

“Hmmm that sucks,” Adam mused as Leah explained firebird memories. “Guess that’s why we haven’t just solved all history questions with a few Phoenix interviews,” he reasoned.

Adam was quiet for a time as he flayed off more worm skin and yellow cutaneous tissues. “Maybe that’s better though,” he admitted after a while. “Dealing with one lifetime of going through shit is hard enough to deal with,” said the young man who trained and exercised himself to exhaustion in order to sleep. “Having to remember like other lives of horrible crap too? Don't think I could deal with it, i’d completely lose it.” 

Well ok, lose it sooner than most Hunters, Adam admitted to himself, knowing that after a time the human brain can only see so much before you start to break inside. 

“I think you’d do good at it,” Adam noted, meeting Leah’s joke with earnestness. “A foster advocate for kids i mean.” 

“Mhm. My parents adopted Hunters who were orphaned or whatnot, and I’d do the same,” Adam explained, to the question of whether he’d adopt as if there were only one answer. “Whether I take in kids or am a father, I’ll teach em how to survive,” said the Hunter, something in his tone suggesting this grim promise was the purest expression of parental love. 

“People are never going to agree on betterment,” asserted the young man born into a world of war with a shrug. “We just gotta decide what parts of our ideal world we have to get by force,”  and when talking things out is better,” said Adam. 

Leah had her mouth open, ready and willing to argue more, when Adam said that she was right.  She closed her mouth, sending him a resolute nod.  She sure was.   If only it were this easy to convince Kaden.

“Maybe, but I think it’s more the fact that they’re so rare.  Knowledge about them might even be scarce on purpose, in order to protect them.”  Did Adam know about the healing tears? Would he understand why they needed protection?  “Perhaps every life doesn’t have to be horrible, though.  It must be torture to know you’ve lived, say… three or four lifetimes before but have no idea about everything you learned throughout them”.

She smiled sheepishly at his compliment, pressing her lips together in earnest.  “Thank you”, she started.  “It means a lot.”

Adam raising children into more hunters was decidedly not what Leah was talking about, but his comments about his parents intrigued her.  “You had a lot of adopted siblings growing up, then?”  She didn’t want to delve into what he might have meant by ‘teach them how to survive’.

“I guess I just wonder who gets to decide”, she mused, turning back toward the house as she heard her name called in the distance. “My ideal would be to not have to do it by force, but I suppose that’s why Luce insists I’m an optimist.” She let out a breath, pressing her lips together in a smile.  “Did you have any other questions… about phoenixes?”

Adam nodded. “I mean I have alot of family in general like siblings, cousins, so on. As a kid it didn’t make much difference which ones had my blood or not. Some little Hunters were adopted fully, others just came to live with us and be trained for a few years,” the Hunter shrugged, indicating perhaps that his household had been a lively place full of both laughter and endless preparations for war. 

“That’s always the trick huh,” Adam affirmed with a grimace. “With Democracy you just get mob rule and decisions made without long term planning. With some elite body you get corruption and unaccountability,” the frat boy noted with a salience his professors would never hear him express in class. “I don’t think anybody’s solved that question yet.” 

Adam glanced toward the house and looked back to Leah, brown eyes intent for a time, hands dripping with the slime and blood of the massive witcheater. 

“Thanks Ramirez, I think I have what I need,” said the Hunter with the soft finality of someone who’d just come to a decision. “....sorry for keeping ya,” 

[willsherjohnkhan]

The English Savage

Chapter 1: A Rude Awakening

***

SOMEWHERE DEEP IN THE JUNGLES OF SARAWAK - BORNEO

Molly’s eyes fluttered open, still feeling like she was emerging through a foggy haze. Her mind filled with images she was unable, or unwilling to process.

“Now that you’re awake, perhaps you’d like to explain what it is you’re doing back here?” the baritone voice snapped with undisguised irritation.

Molly bolted upright, the sudden movement causing her head to spin.

Or maybe the curly haired man with piercing blue/green eyes standing over her wearing nothing more than a purple loincloth was the cause.

***

Chapter 2: Into the Unknown

***

LONDON – TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Molly Hooper checked her bank balance once again, and winced. It wasn’t that doing a medical degree and student debt didn’t go hand-in-hand. But it was clear her savings, such as they were, were in desperate need of a cash injection. And the types of jobs she usually took on over term break were not going to cut it.

Scrolling through an Employment Agency’s online job listings for temporary positions, one advert in particular caught her eye.

WANT AN ADVENTURE?

Intrigued, her eyes skimmed through the details and requirements of the position:

Proficient with analog camera... Bring own equipment... Valid passport... All travel expenses paid... Generous pay... Apply to K. Riley on...

Not giving herself time to think things through, Molly grabbed her mobile and entered the number given.

After two rings the phone was answered, “Kitty Riley.”

“Hello, my name’s Molly Hooper. I’m calling about the job advertised on...”

***

KUCHING, SARAWAK, BORNEO – TEN DAYS EARLIER

From the moment she knew she had the job, and her employer, none other than Kitty Riley, the renowned freelance investigative journalist, Molly had done her best to get to know Kitty Riley a little. But Kitty made it clear this was a business arrangement only, she wasn’t looking to make friends.

‘Fair enough,’ Molly thought to herself. So instead she tried to find out more about the assignment that had brought them here.

“So how was he discovered?” Molly asked, genuinely curious.

Kitty didn’t respond immediately, she preferred to keep such details of her investigations close to her chest. But seeing how eager Molly was she eventually relented giving a few scant details. “A couple of environmentalists were in the jungle to assess the effects of climate change on the rainforest,” she replied.” And they apparently just stumbled upon him.”

“Wow!” Molly breathed. “Who would believe Tarzan really exists.”

“Who,” Kitty queried, clearly confused.

“You know, Lord Greystoke. Tarzan of the Jungle, the character created by Edgar Rice Burroughs,” Molly explained. When Kitty still looked at her uncomprehendingly Molly muttered, “Never mind.”

*

While Kitty went out to meet up with the two young men she’d made contact with to be their guides, Molly took the opportunity to leave the hotel and meander along the Kuching Waterfront esplanade that included a number of food stalls and restaurants.

After awhile she found the humid climate a little overpowering after the cooler weather of London, and gratefully sank down on one of many benches, all of which had excellent views of the surrounds.

*

Returning to the hotel just as the rain began falling heavily Molly found Kitty in the company of two young men who were introduced as Umar and Zikri

*

During the week they spent in Kuching they bought supplies that included not only camping gear and a well stocked First Aid kit, but also a number of gifts, to bribe any Natives willing to give information on the whereabouts of the Englishman.

The time was also used so that Kitty and Molly could acclimatise themselves to the weather.

Kitty spent her free time focussing on the assignment, double checking her notes, and checking to see if any further information had become available before they headed out.

Molly spent time getting to know Umar and Zikri who were students like her, but their interest lay in becoming Ecotourism Operators. They were using this opportunity as a trial run of sorts into what they hoped to do full time once they’d raised enough money.

***.

SARAWAK RIVER – THREE DAYS EARLIER

The only way to reach the area where the Englishman was reportedly seen was by boat, and then on foot.

It sounded easy enough, but Molly soon learnt it was anything but.

They had started off using a reasonably large and comfortable boat, but the further they travelled into the forest the river narrowed becoming no more than a stream, from where dense foliage encroached. This meant their only option was to change to the more traditional ‘prahu’.

But the going was continually slowed due to fallen trees that either blocked their way completely, with the only way to get past was to cut through them using machetes, or shoving those that hadn’t completely blocked their path out of the way.

And then there were rapids that had to be looked out for.

Pulling over to the banks and getting out so they could make their way on foot to the various villages along the way were also hazardous with steaming patches of marsh and mangrove swamps.

A dizzying array of vocalisations that included cries, calls, hoots, and howls from animals and birds, intermingled with the shrill, high-pitched trilling of various insects followed them wherever they went, whether on water or land. And though Molly kept a sharp lookout she rarely saw the creatures themselves.

The further they travelled through the jungle, two things became increasingly clear; the Englishman most definitely did exist. And he moved about constantly, staying with each village for only a few months, and sometimes only a few weeks.

***

DEEP IN SARAWAK JUNGLE – THE DAY BEFORE

They finally reached the village of another Ulu Tribe, this one quite possibly at the deepest heart of the jungle. Umar and Zikri had begun to make some enquires when without warning the atmosphere became charged.

Molly looked around to see what had caused the change. And then she saw what, or rather whom. For making their way down the rough ladder from the longhouse was a tall, curly-haired, lithe-framed man dressed in a ‘chavat’, (loincloth).

As soon as the Englishman reached the ground and turned to face them, Molly let out a gasp of recognition, for standing right in front of her was the famed ‘Hat Detective’ himself, Sherlock Holmes.

Barely glancing at Molly and the two guides, whom he immediately dismissed as unimportant, Sherlock turned his gaze on Kitty. Molly noted immediately how his body stiffened with recognition. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a sneer as he glared at the reporter with utter contempt.

**

THE OLD BAILEY – MEN’S TOILETS – TWO YEARS AGO

Sherlock was just finishing washing his hands, when he glanced up and saw the reflection of a young woman standing behind him.

He turned to face her. “Wrong toilet,” he stated.

“There’s all sorts of gossip in the press about you,” she began. “Sooner or later you’re gonna need someone on your side,” reaching into her pocket, Kitty retrieved a business card and tucked it into Sherlock’s breast pocket, “someone to set the record straight.”

Sherlock gave the young journalist a smile that never reached his eyes. “And you think you’re the girl for that job, do you?”

Eager to impress, she responded. “I’m smart, and you can trust me, totally.”

“Smart?” Sherlock nodded, “okay, investigative journalist. Good. Well, look at me and tell me what you see,” he challenged her. He gave her a moment to begin. When she didn’t, he continued. “If you’re that skilful, you don’t need an interview. You can just read what you need.”

Still no response, in fact Kitty was now looking a little awkward, like she’s been caught out.

Which she had, and Sherlock knew it. “No? Okay my turn.” He began pacing around her, looking her over, before starting his deductions. His words spoken rapidly are harsh and to the point. “I look at you and I see someone who’s still waiting for their first big scoop so that their editor will notice them. You’re wearing an expensive skirt but it’s been re-hemmed twice, only posh skirt you’ve got. And your nails, you can’t afford to do them that often, I see someone who’s hungry, I don’t see smart, and I definitely don’t see trustworthy. But I’ll give you a quote if you like – three little words.”  

He deftly removed her Dictaphone from her pocket and raised it to his lips, slowly, and deliberately he said. “You...repel...me.”

**

DEEP IN SARAWAK JUNGLE – THE DAY BEFORE

“So?  Not dead then.” Kitty smirked, looking like the cat that had caught the canary.  

Unimpressed by her incredibly obvious deduction, the former Consulting Detective responded, “Clearly,” making no attempt to 

***

Chapter 3: The 'Not Dead' Detective

***

DEEP IN SARAWAK JUNGLE, BORNEO – THE DAY BEFORE

The two adversaries stood glaring at one another. Abruptly Sherlock turned to a man who was clearly the tribes Chief, speaking with him in a local dialect.

The Chief listened carefully to what Sherlock told him, and then turned to the men of the tribe and began issuing orders that were followed out immediately.

Molly, Kitty and the two guides found themselves being moved on none too gently. They were being driven back in the direction from which they had come.

When Kitty made to force her way back, one of the men raised a blow pipe to his lips.

“No miss,” Zikri implored with some urgency. “The poison is deadly. And he will use it if you continue to ignore the wishes of their chief, and the white man.”

Kitty backed off and turned with obvious reluctance, and headed towards where they had set up their camp. As she moved off, she made it clear that she wasn’t giving up. “I will get my story, Sherlock Holmes. Not the one I was originally going to write. Now I have something far better.”

*

When satisfied that the unwanted visitors were at least temporarily on their way, Sherlock made his way over to his hut. Inside it was basic and very primitive compared to his rooms at 221B Baker Street. But he had done his best to make it feel like a home. He’d made a table and chair, and there was a small cabinet that contained notebooks, pens, his mobile, passport and a few personal items.

He sat down on his simple bed.

Of all the people to track him down, it had to be Kitty Riley.

The young reporter had, not surprisingly thanks to his harshly expressed opinions concerning her abilities and her trustworthiness, developed quite the chip on her shoulder where he was concerned.

He on the other hand had immediately erased her from his memory the moment he had exited the men’s toilets.

At the time he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Sherlock shifted so that he now reclined on the bed. With his palms pressed together and resting under his chin, he slipped into his Mind Palace to retrieve, and go over the events that had ultimately led him to become a wanted man.

**

THE OLD BAILEY – TWO YEARS BEFORE

His brief encounter with Kitty Riley had taken place just as he was about to appear as the star witness in what he would regard at the time as the most important case of his career.

Sherlock focussed all his energies on making certain that his testimony ensured that James Moriarty went to prison for a very long time.

But he should never have underestimated such a criminal genius. With all the resources at his disposal it was a simple matter for the Napoleon of Crime to get to the jury, thereby guaranteeing their ‘Not Guilty’ verdict.

Sherlock knew from that point on he would be Moriarty’s next target. But what he hadn’t anticipated was the turn of events as they played out.

The image would forever be seared into his brain.

***

BARTS HOSPITAL ROOF – SIX MONTHS LATER

Moriarty believed that he had managed to discredit the Consulting Detective in the eyes of his family, friends, Scotland Yard and the public in general. All he needed was for Sherlock to fall to his death, proof of his acceptance that his reputation had taken a dramatic fall from grace.  

Except Sherlock was equally confident that he had secured Moriarty’s infamous Key Code, and that with it he would be able to restore his reputation that the criminal mastermind had so ingeniously dismantled over the previous 24 hours.

But then Moriarty had informed him that the Key Code didn’t exist, and that what Sherlock had was nothing more than a movement from Bach’s ‘Partita Number One’.  If he was ever going to reinstate his reputation he was going to need Moriarty, and then to Sherlock’s horror Moriarty pulled out a gun and used it to blow his own brains out.

It was suicide, plain and simple.

But his confidence in the judicial system would be severely put to the test when he was arrested, and charged with Moriarty’s murder.

***

THE OLD BAILEY – TWO MONTHS LATER

The irony that he should now find himself standing in the docks was not lost on Sherlock.

The Prosecution had a field day. They played upon the animosity and contempt Sherlock had displayed towards Moriarty during the late criminal masterminds trial.

And then there was the cleverly tampered with CCTV footage that showed an altered version of the final confrontation between Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty.

***

CCTV FOOTAGE

“Here we are at last --- you and me, Sherlock, and our problem – the final problem,” was Moriarty’s greeting as Sherlock joined him on the roof.

*

“You’re ordinary, Sherlock, You’re on the side of the angels. Because as long as I’m alive, you’ve got a way out” Moriarty taunted smugly.

“Oh, I may be on the side of the angels,” Sherlock responded. “But don’t think for one second that I am one of them.”

Sherlock then began to circle his opponent. “I am you,” he stated. “Prepared to do anything; prepared to burn; prepared to do what ordinary people won’t do. You want me to shake hands with you in Hell? I shall not disappoint you.”

*

Then the footage showed Sherlock grabbing hold of Moriarty’s hand, while reaching into the inner pocket of his Belstaff and pulling out a gun which he forced into Moriarty’s mouth.

The footage was purposefully frozen at that point by the court, but not the audio of the ominous sound of the gunshot that ended James Moriarty’s life.

The footage was restarted at the point where it showed Sherlock standing over the body, the gun still in his hand.

***

THE OLD BAILEY

If that hadn’t sealed the detectives fate, than the testimony given by Moriarty’s partner-in-crime, and Peer of the Realm, Lord Sebastian Moran, who claimed to have witnessed the whole thing, and had called the police, was enough to absolutely guarantee it.

Sherlock knew Moran was a traitor. He’d been working for North Korea for a number of years, but he had never been able to gather enough information to prove it.

And not even Mycroft dared to intervene in the judicial proceedings, reluctantly having to allow the events that were set in motion to take place.

The case was a stitch up, and no surprises Sherlock was found guilty.

The press of course had a field day, and even Kitty Riley managed to get her two pence worth in.

***

Although Mycroft had been unable to do anything during the trial, he had come through after Sherlock made his daring escape for freedom.

He had secured Sherlock on a flight out of England, under an assumed name.

And was instrumental in advising the press about this bid to escape justice, giving them details of the flight that was ultimately doomed to crash, killing all on board.

**

DEEP IN SARAWAK JUNGLE, BORNEO

Sherlock emerged from his Mind Palace, and sat up.

With Kitty’s taunting words still fresh in his mind, and despite the humidity, the former detective felt chills run up and down his spine.

‘Was there no end to this nightmare?’

***

Chapter 4: The Ugly Side

***

DEEP IN SARAWAK JUNGLE, BORNEO

Molly rushed to catch up with Kitty who was ploughing through the jungle vegetation, her anger building with every step she took.

“So, you and Sherlock Holmes – you have history?”

Kitty gave an unladylike snort, then acknowledged. “You could say that.”

Molly’s expressive eyes widened, did Kitty mean...?

Seeing the look Kitty shuddered. “God no. He’s definitely not my type.”

“So?  What then?” Molly pressed.

Kitty came to an abrupt halt, turned and appraised Molly suspiciously. “Why do you care?”

“Just curious,” Molly responded honestly. “I mean it was pretty obvious that there’s quite a bit of animosity between you. So what gives?”

“He humiliated me.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Why? Because he could,” Kitty responded bitterly. “When I was starting out I’d hoped to get a big scoop by doing a story on him ‘The Man Beneath the Hat’. But he refused, and then he tore me to shreds with his ‘deductions’. He made it clear what he thought of me, and my abilities.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ever since then I’ve worked hard to establish myself and prove him wrong. It wasn’t easy,” the bitterness was building up again. “Every newspaper and magazine editor had heard about how ‘the great detective’ viewed me, and wouldn’t give me the time of day. So, unable to get the type of position I wanted, I decided to go freelance. I worked damned hard,” the bitterness was now replaced by pride and a sense of accomplishment. “And eventually, little by little that hard work paid off.”

Molly was impressed, finding Kitty’s determination and work-ethic admirable. Most people placed in a similar situation would have given up. “Then maybe you should thank Sherlock Holmes for making you push yourself as hard as you have,” she suggested.

“Oh I’ll thank him all right,” Kitty replied, her tone dripping with malice. “I’m going to write an article that will ruin him for eternity.”

“You’re not serious,” Molly gasped horrified.

“Oh I’m deadly serious,” Kitty returned her expression smug. “I’ll make him regret the day he met me.”

“So that’s it, is it?” Molly asked. “Instead of writing an incredibly enticing article about how and why a man from England would choose to live as a native, you’re going to turn it into a sensational expose’ in a pathetic attempt to exact your revenge.”

“He deserves it!” Kitty spat becoming defensive.

“Why? because he hurt your feelings? If your skin is that thin than you’re clearly in the wrong line of work.” Molly retorted.

“He’s a convicted murderer, and a wanted man who faked his own death.”

“Then make your story about why he would go to such lengths. There might be more to the story than what was reported in the press,” Molly argued.

Kitty shook her head adamantly.

“Why not,” Molly asked becoming increasingly exasperated with the journalist.

“Because it wouldn’t make as much money,” was the petulant response.

Kitty stomped off, the guides trailing behind her.

“I’d keep up if I were you Molly Hooper,” the journalist called out. “There are plenty of predators out on the prowl in the jungle. Don’t want to get gobbled up do you.”

*

Despite the warning, Molly stayed behind. She needed time to think. Finding herself a comfortable spot to sit, she settled down and pondered the details as she knew them of the case that had so decisively destroyed the famous detective’s career.

It was clear to her that what had been reported in the papers could not be fully believed. The press had for many years made a handy living reporting on the extraordinarily remarkable abilities of the World’s Only Consulting Detective. They had further improved the sales of their papers and the like by running all sorts of stories about the ‘Hat Detective’, always able to find someone willing to sell their story that would give a usually erroneous account of the detectives personal life.

Sherlock’s refusal to be interviewed was ultimately going to lead to the press turning on him, and Moriarty’s murder was the perfect opportunity.

Molly had always admired Sherlock. But had felt he was out of her league, intellectually and physically. He was tall and gorgeous while she was short and plain. He was enigmatic and gifted, while she by comparison was down to earth, and practical.

This hadn’t stopped her from dreaming of one day getting the opportunity to work with him. It was for this reason in part that she had decided to specialise in Pathology.

Molly’s thoughts next turned to more recent events, concerning a group of sceptics that were making a lot of noise claiming that the case against Sherlock may not have been so cut and dried as first thought.

The Empty Hearse had been established by Phillip Anderson, former Head of Forensics at Scotland Yard. He had never been a fan of Sherlock and his methods, mainly because the consulting detective self-assured ability to consistently see the clues that enabled him to solve the cases that left the police force and the forensics team scratching their heads. Phillip had found it galling that they were always being upstaged by someone he regarded as a mere amateur.

But with Sherlock’s death, and rumours beginning to circulate that he had in fact been right about the tampering of the CCTV footage, Anderson became consumed with guilt. And so as part of his self-appointed penitence, he had established The Empty Hearse so that he and other like-minded people could discuss and investigate any clues that could at least prove the late detective’s innocence.

So caught up in her thoughts, it took Molly awhile for the sounds of a commotion taking place at the campsite to penetrate. With great reluctance she got to her feet and headed over to see what the cause of the ruckus was.

***

CAMPSITE

The sight that greeted her was truly horrifying. The two guides, Umar and Zikri lay dead, their throats cut.

“Molly! Run! Get away from here.”

Molly turned to see Kitty Riley struggling to get out of the grasp of two men who held her securely as they dragged her towards their boat moored close by. Movement behind her alerted her to the fact someone was behind her, turning Molly saw a third man making his way determinedly towards her, a bloodied knife in his hand.

With a quick last look towards Kitty, Molly bent down grabbed a handful of earth and threw it in the eyes of the man approaching her.

“Don’t worry about that one. We’ve already got what we came for.”

The heavily accented words barely registered as Molly fled as fast as her legs could take her into the untamed jungle.

***

ULU VILLAGE

Sherlock was restless, unable to settle to his usual routine. The arrival of Kitty Riley had unnerved him.

He had to do something. He couldn’t just sit here and wait for the authorities to come and arrest him. He needed to make some sort of deal with the journalist.

Knowing full well that it was likely going to be a fruitless exercise, didn’t stop the former detective heading off to where he believed would be the most likely location for where she would have set up camp.

*

He had not gone far when he his ears, sharpened by his time in the jungle, heard the distinctive sound of someone moving swiftly towards him.

Moments later the young woman with long brown hair who had accompanied Kitty emerged through the undergrowth. Fear was driving her forward, causing her to not pay attention to where she was going, with the inevitably result that had her slamming right into him.

Molly looked up, relieved when she recognised the man before her. She managed to gasp out, “Oh, thank God I’ve found you,” before collapsing in a dead faint at his feet.

Left with little other option, Sherlock bent down and gathered the unconscious woman up into his arms, and carried her into his hut.

***

Chapter 5: An Unforeseen Complication   

***

ULU VILLAGE – SHERLOCK’S HUT

“Now that you’re awake, perhaps you’d like to explain what it is you’re doing back here?”

Molly bolted upright, trying her best to ignore the sight of the scantily dressed man who was currently glaring down at her.

And then she remembered why she was there: The guide’s lifeless bodies, Kitty struggling as the men dragged her away. And her frantic instructions for Molly escape. Because Kitty knew if Molly could get back to the Ulu tribe, Sherlock Holmes would be the only person who could track her down. It was this thought that got Molly to her feet

But as soon as she stood up a wave of dizziness assailed her. She shook her head to clear it, she needed to remain focussed time was of the essence.

With no concept of how much time had passed she queried urgently. “How long was I unconscious?”

“A few minutes,” Sherlock replied, his eyes scanning her face, and taking note of the tension in her features.

Molly moved towards the door of the hut. “You have to come with me,” she instructed with surprising force.

“Oh do I indeed,” Sherlock’s irritation was clear. “And why is that exactly?”

Molly noted the way his eyes narrowed as his lips tightened into a determined line. She didn’t have to be a detective to see the distrust in his expression. And in all honesty she couldn’t say she blamed him. She was after all in the employ of a woman who had made a lot of money from writing half truths and outright lies about him, and had done her part in helping to ruin his reputation and his life due to the whole Moriarty fiasco.

But she knew she had to find a way to convince him to come with her to the campsite, only then would he see for himself that she truly did need his help. She turned back to the former detective who remained standing by the bed. “Because you’re Sherlock Holmes, the World’s only Consulting Detective and I have a case for you,” before adding quietly, “It’s a matter of life and death.”

Sherlock was about to retaliate with a snide remark when he noted how ashen her face had become. Her impassioned speech had clearly triggered a memory, and not of the pleasant variety.

With a resigned sigh the former detective made the only decision available to him. With practical efficiency he gathered up a blowpipe and some poison darts which he placed in a pouch, made of animal hide that he had secured to a strap. He then slipped the strap over his head, adjusting it until it rested comfortably over his shoulder and across his chest.

He then made his way over to where Molly stood. “Fine,” he responded. “Then we’d better be on our way, Miss...”

“Molly Hooper,” Molly answered, relief washing over her as she took the hand he offered and shook it.

***

EN ROUTE - CAMPSITE

Sherlock took the lead, his sure silent steps confident as he headed in the direction of the campsite without the need to consult on the precise direction.

As they made their way through the dense jungle, Molly was relieved, as it gave her some breathing space to try and sort out the conflicting emotions she was battling with. She had complete faith in the former detective’s ability to determine who the men were and why they were after Kitty Riley, and to discover where they had taken her. Assuming she was still alive...

Molly shook her head vehemently, to remove the negative thought. The men clearly wanted Kitty for some reason, so she would be more valuable to them alive rather than dead. No, what had Molly concerned was whether Sherlock could set aside his hostility towards the journalist who had contributed to his being in his current position.

A position she found extremely distracting, as circumstances had placed Molly so she had the perfect opportunity to appreciate some might say perve, his near naked state.  He was slim, but not skinny. His time in the jungle had ensured that his broad shouldered lithe frame had become well toned, but not overly muscular. Molly found herself increasingly mesmerised by the play of muscles, from his shoulder blades, down to his taut buttocks...

“Keep up Molly Hooper,” Sherlock instructed sternly.

Rudely jolted from her inappropriate thoughts, Molly felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment when the former detective, his gaze still firmly fixed on the path ahead, chastised her.

“Now is not the time for daydreaming.”

***

THE CAMPSITE

The cause of death of the two guides was self evident, their throats had been cut. A closer inspection revealed the precision of the action. Performed by one who knew exactly what they were doing. Sherlock doubted that either of the young men knew what was happening before the deed was done. So a professional hit then, not just a random assault as he’d first assumed

In the blink of an eye Sherlock went from casual observer to professional investigator. The first order of business was the gathering of any evidence that would lead to the identity of those who had cold-bloodedly murdered the two unarmed guides before kidnapping Kitty Riley.

*

As soon as they had arrived back at the campsite Molly immediately made her way over to her backpack, thankful to find it amongst the chaos, to collect any items that might be of use in the gathering of samples: tweezers, phials, plastic bags and a magnifying glass. It wasn’t much, but for the moment anything was better than nothing.

She returned just as the detective was finishing up his examination of the two guides. Getting to his feet he turned to her. “I don’t suppose you have anything...” upon seeing the items she had with her. “Perfect.”

“Oh, and you might need these,” Molly added, pulling a notebook and pencil from her jeans pocked and handed them to him.

*

Sherlock moved around the campsite, the struggle Kitty had put up clearly evident, as was the when she had been overpowered. His nostrils twitched as he carefully lifted a cloth soaked in chloroform with the tweezers and bagged them.

A quick inspection of the river bank revealed no sign of a body. He was satisfied that she had been taken alive.

But to what purpose, Sherlock was confident the reason Kitty had been targeted was due to her penchant for writing explosive exposes. He’d eat that damned floppy-eared hat if it wasn’t.

The euphoria he’d been feeling instantly died. One stray thought was all it took and the torrent of unwelcome memories returned, overwhelming him, and pouring cold water on his enthusiasm for the investigation, to be replaced with an air of aloof disinterest.

*

Molly became confused and alarmed when Sherlock abruptly stopped what he was doing and instead started packing up.

“What are you doing?” she exclaimed.

“Change of plan,” was the cool response.

Her alarm turned to disbelief when it became clear he was intending to leave. Molly scrambled hurriedly over to him, and blocking his way.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

Sherlock released an impatient sigh. “Obvious surly,”

“You’re leaving,” Molly’s disbelief morphed into anger. “Why?”

“Because I’ve gathered enough evidence for the local authorities, with it they should be able to make something of it. Should they apply themselves,” was the cold response.

“What!” Molly couldn’t believe her ears. Not even Sherlock Holmes could be that callous. “Sherlock, you can’t leave this investigation to the local police force.”

“I beg to differ,” he stated as he attempted to move around her.

But Molly stood her ground. “Kitty needs your deductive abilities. She’s relying on you.”

“Then maybe she should have thought about that before writing nothing but lies about people,” he retorted, his tone petulant.

Sherlock turned, determined to head back to his hut. ‘Damned of he was going to be lectured to by this little common sparrow of a woman,’ he thought in growing annoyance.

But Molly hadn’t finished, stepping right into Sherlock’s personal space to continue the argument he had already deemed over.

“Oh dear god,” Molly exclaimed, her whole demeanour changing as she started laughing. “No wonder you and Kitty don’t get on. You’re so much alike.”

Sherlock’s head reared back, as if she’d slapped him.

“Sherlock Holmes and Kitty Riley are two peas in a pod,” she was openly goading him now.

Her action pushed him over the edge, and he snapped.

Molly barely had time to register the change in his demeanour before Sherlock lunged. His usually cold gaze became burning hot, his nostrils flared and a savage snarl emerged through his lips as he grabbed hold of Molly’s ponytail, using it to forcibly wrench her head back.

Molly gave a startled gasp of surprise, mingled with pain.

Her reaction triggered an unexpected need that totally overpowered Sherlock’s usually cool logic. Remorselessly he dragged her slight frame roughly until it collided with his sinewy iron-hard body, using brute force to masterfully subdue her, as he bent down to crush her soft, pliant lips with his own.

His intention had merely been to silence her. But his fierce actions had revealed Molly’s interest in him. She was turned on, her eyes begging him for more. Sherlock was more than happy to oblige her, confident in his ability to resist the temptations she was freely offering him. And he wanted to punish her for her impudence.

But before Sherlock could claim victory, Molly reached up and wound her fingers through his wayward curls, yanking at the sensitive hair follicles before using her short nails to scratch and massage his scalp, causing an uncharacteristic groan of pure lust to escape Sherlock’s cupids-bow lips.

Sherlock was drowning in the sensual onslaught of carnal emotions and cravings that he had spent so many years suppressing. His tongue slipped between Molly’s willing lips, its movements echoing those of his body that was thrusting frantically against Molly’s equally yielding form in its search for sexual release.

Molly too was engulfed in a whirlwind of erotic sensations, her ability to think clearly swept away by Sherlock’s fervour.

Sherlock’s hands moved down her body coming to rest on the curve of her breast, his long agile fingers making quick work of the buttons on her blouse, before slipping inside her bra to rub and pinch the nipple enclosed within. At the same time he rubbed his painfully erect cock against her feminine core, increasing the speed of his thrusts with a ruthless determination, his nostrils filled with the musky scent of her arousal.

But when Molly gave an encouraging groan, it shattered the euphoric spell he was under. Sherlock froze, he became completely motionless, his heated body instantly cooling, the primitive sensualist that had hijacked his mind, replaced with that of a cold, hard-hearted intellectual.

Abruptly Sherlock released his hold on Molly and stepped back, his face now a haughty, aloof mask. Without a word he turned and left the campsite.

***

EN ROUTE - ULU VILLAGE

Sherlock strode away from the campsite, desperate to regain control over the unexpected emotions that had overtaken the cool hard logic that he valued so highly. Unfortunately his attempts to think rationally remained futile with his body, though cool still craving the sexual release it had been so cruelly denied.

Furious with himself over his complete lack of control Sherlock attempted to find relief in thought, only to have his frustration grow when his Mind Palace turned traitor. Without permission it created an extra large room labelled MOLLY HOOPER.

Despite the speculation in the tabloid press Sherlock Holmes was no virgin. But the drug-fuelled trysts he’d engaged in at university had nothing to do with sentiment. Instead those experiences had hardened him, enabling him to strengthen his resistance to the temptations of the flesh.

From the infamous dominatrix Irene Adler, to the wiles of the native woman and girls of the Ulu tribe, all had tried attempted to entice him. And all had failed.

So what was it about Molly Hooper that affected him so?  

While attempting to sort out the reason why he had reacted as he had, the last thing Sherlock needed was for his brother to appear a-la Jiminy Cricket style, perching himself elegantly on Sherlock’s shoulder.

“Taking the coward’s way out, brother mine?” Mycroft asked, his tone mocking as he appraised his younger brother with an expression of supreme superiority.

“Bugger off Mycroft,” Sherlock muttered through gritted teeth.

The spectre merely smiled in an infuriatingly knowing way. He wasn’t going anywhere. At least not until Sherlock admitted the true reason why he needed to escape the campsite.

Any why he’d so ruthlessly abandoned Molly to fend for herself, leaving her to deal with the gruesome crime scene all on her own...

The twinge of guilt that thought provoked had Sherlock coming to an abrupt halt. How could he had left her in such a precarious predicament.

“Sentiment, brother dear, tut, tut,” Mycroft’s voice taunted as Sherlock turned, intending to make his way back to the camp.

By now it was twilight and all manner of animals were on the prowl. Pre-occupied as he was, it wasn’t until a movement out of the corner of his eye alerted Sherlock of the danger he was in. Too late he realised he’d left his blowpipe at the campsite, and all he could do was swear as the Sunda clouded leopard pounced.

***

Chapter 6: In Need of Medical Assistance

***

CAMPSITE

In stunned silence Molly watched Sherlock leave the campsite. She felt like she’d been slapped in the face, and played for a fool.

Of course with his famous deductive abilities it would have been easy for him to observe her attraction to him, she hadn’t exactly done much to hide it.

But did he have to be so cruel to play upon her feelings, and then throw them back in her face?

She knew she’d probably pushed him harder than she should have, but it had amused her to realise just how similar the detective and the journalist were. Her intention had merely been to get Sherlock to admit that the reason he and Kitty Riley butted heads had more to do with the fact that they were more similar than opposite in their approach to their chosen fields.

But she had clearly hit a nerve much rawer than she had anticipated,

And Sherlock’s response had been equally unexpected.

She’d been aware of all the rumours circulating about his sexuality or lack thereof ever since he had made his claims about being ‘married to his work.’ It had led to untold speculation within the presses, both tabloid and the more conservative publications. He was described as anything from a machine right through to gay.

The latter gained a lot of traction when it became known that not even a well known dominatrix could get under his skin. Some of the more salacious tabloids even went so far to claim that the great detective wouldn’t know what to do to a woman, in the sexual context, stating he was an untried virgin.

But Molly had discovered firsthand how wrong that suggestion had been.

The kiss may have begun as a form of punishment, but there was no doubting his expertise, an expertise that easily eclipsed that of hers. Though Molly too was no virgin, her experience up until that point was limited to the fumbling of her fellow uni students, who were all raging hormones, more interested in getting their satisfaction, with as little foreplay as possible.

And she had surprised herself by being incredibly turned on by Sherlock’s primitive savagery. Its potent effect easily overwhelmed any thoughts of protest. Though initially shocked, arousal soon kicked in and she eagerly joined in, letting all reservations slip away.

So when he had pulled away and abruptly left, it felt like he was playing with her emotions, using it as a way to prove his superiority over her.

By now the detective was out of sight, and Molly shook herself out of her reverie, determined to have words with Sherlock when she caught up with him. But that would have to wait. She needed to focus on gathering up the evidence that had been collected.

And then there were the bodies of the two guides.

While her mobile was still fully charged, she took several photos of each, before taking a few samples for DNA testing, and recorded a brief report of the injuries that caused their deaths. She then covered their bodies with the sleeping bags they’d brought with them.

She knew it was probably a pointless exercise, and that by the time authorities eventually arrived the bodies would more than likely be dismembered by any predators that caught the scent of their decomposing bodies.

But she couldn’t bring herself to leave them so exposed. It felt wrong.

She had just finished reciting the Lord’s Prayer, when she became aware of a commotion coming from the direction that Sherlock was headed. Her initial reaction was one of ‘he could go to Hell for all she cared.’

But that thinking went right out the window when she became aware that he was being attacked by what sounded like a big cat.

Looking around frantically for something, anything that could be used as a weapon, Molly spotted the blowpipe Sherlock had discarded once he began searching for clues.

Snatching it up, she headed off in the direction Sherlock had gone.

***

DEEP IN SARAWAK JUNGLE, BORNEO

Sherlock barely had time to raise his arms as the leopard landed, knocking him to the ground.

“Oomtphf!”

With the breath knocked out of him Sherlock knew he was going to have to act fast. Instinct kicked in, he raised his legs to not only protect his chest and stomach, but also to prevent the leopard from reaching his head and neck, while at the same time he used his arms to hold it back.

Realising that in its current position the big cat was in a far more dominant position, Sherlock took it by surprise, using all of his strength to roll himself and the leopard over, so that it was now under him, and with the increased adrenalin pumping through his veins he was able to push himself up enough to enable him to get to a standing position. He then used the remaining few seconds that he had to frantically look for anything that he could use as a weapon.

Recovering from the unexpected manoeuvre the leopard leapt at the former detective in fury, nothing more than a blur of razor sharp teeth and claws that tore at his flesh as it tackled him to the ground once again.

But just as it gained the upper hand it was startled by an unexpected attack from behind.

*

All Molly saw was Sherlock on the ground covered in blood. Fuelled by a surge of adrenalin and with no thought for her own safety, she charged at the leopard, using the blowpipe to strike the unsuspecting animal.

Startled, the leopard immediately drew back. When Molly raised the blowpipe again and moved towards it, the big cat decided to make a strategic withdrawal.

Before it had disappeared into the undergrowth, Molly was at Sherlock’s side and assessing his injuries. She was relieved to find that they were not life threatening, but there were a couple of nasty looking wounds that required immediate medical attention.

“Can you move?”

Sherlock nodded, wincing in pain as he allowed Molly to assist him in getting to his feet. He wrapped his uninjured arm around her shoulders, taking the blowpipe to use as a walking cane. Molly placed her arm securely around his waist to support him as they made their way back to his hut.

***

SHERLOCK’S HUT

Once safely inside Molly assisted Sherlock over to his bed. With a groan of relief he gratefully collapsed.

After a brief search Molly found a box of matches, using them to light a couple of lamps. She then spotted the bucket of fresh water and a cloth Sherlock kept on hand. Bringing them over to where the detective lay, and with great care she began cleaning up the blood so that she could better assess the extent of his injuries, and was relieved when her initial assessment proved correct.

He’d suffered a series of deep scratches, but the wound on his side and his upper arm where the flesh was torn was of concern.

“How are you feeling?” Molly asked.

“Alive,” Sherlock responded, wincing in obvious pain when he tried to move. “How bad is it?” he asked.

“Not too bad. You were incredibly lucky.”

“Thanks to you,” he acknowledged.

Despite the praise Molly was aware that he wasn’t out of the woods yet. The wounds might not be life threatening now, but they were going to require surgery, and she needed to make sure the wounds didn’t become infected. Unfortunately she had nothing with her to use to clean and disinfect his injuries, or dull the pain and sew up the wounds that were of most concern.

Her eyes darted around the small basic hut in search of something, anything she could make use of.

Sherlock watching the way she chewed her lower lip, and quickly deuced her requirements. “Over there,” he said, indicating with a nod of his head. “You should find all you need.”

Molly followed his gaze and spotted a strong box under the table.

Opening it she found a First Aid Kit. Inside there were bandages and the like that you would expect to find, but there was also a bottle of pure alcohol, some surgical grade thread, a vial of liquid morphine, syringes, needles, and a box of rubber gloves.

Molly immediately set about getting everything organised. She washed her hands before putting on a pair of gloves. She used the alcohol to clean the wounds more thoroughly, before threading a needle and carefully drawing the correct dose of morphine into the syringe.

Given the circumstances, and with none of the specialised medical equipment she was not going to be able to knock Sherlock out completely. So she had to limit the dose so that it would mask the pain while he remained conscious throughout the whole procedure. A situation she had dealt with in theory but never in practice, until now.

When Sherlock nodded to confirm that the morphine had kicked in, Molly knew she had to deal with the injuries as quickly and professionally as possible.

Focussing on the task at hand she began on the wound on his side.

*

Sherlock watched on in curiosity that quickly turned to growing admiration. He noted her efforts in making the whole procedure as comfortable for him as she could. It was quite the accomplishment given the circumstances. He admired her deft skill with the needle, her needlework neat and small that would ensure that the scaring, if any, would be minimal.

By the time she’d finished sewing up the wounds to his side and upper arm, Sherlock was confident that in whatever field of medicine she chose to specialise in, Molly Hooper would prove to be an exceptional asset.

Satisfied that the sutures would hold, allowing his injuries to heal, Molly released a sigh of relief.

“You need to get some rest,” she instructed in what she hoped was a firm no-nonsense tone.

Sherlock never liked being told what to do. “Fine,” he responded haughtily to her instruction, but his features softened as he took in her exhausted state. “But only on the grounds that you join me.”

By now Molly didn’t have the energy to argue with him, and simply got on the bed with him.

*

Molly woke to the cacophony of bird calls. The first thing she was aware of was that Sherlock was no longer in the bed with her.

Sitting up she looked around the room, easily finding him. He was standing by the table going through the items he’d collected from the campsite.. She could see he was intently examining one item in particular.

Curious, she got up and made her way over to him to see what it was. But before she could voice her enquiry, Sherlock turned to her, his expression grim. “I know who has Kitty Riley,” he said. “We have to get to Sarawak as quickly as possible. We leave in an hour.”

***

[cythoughtsnmemories]

17.08.22

Decided to go AMK for food hunt. Grateful my bf don't mind gg ard w me. So we went to hawker and also Vietnamese baguette & coffee. Taste pretty good! Bf so funny, keep saying d development in amk is just different cos 🤭

Not sure why Co. wants to celebrate national after actual day. Anw, we had goodie bag and free snacks. At least some event.

Celebrate big boss b'day and our surprise was a success! Hope social committee can expand, so I've been trying to get more colleagues to join. At least, then I can leave 😂

Since I need to spend $250 on first month of credit card application, so I decided to browse for new running shoes and this caught my eyes. Went swimming late morning and kena sun burned. Haiz, not yet become fair and now I'm back to tanned skin. We had lunch at hawker and went to his house for a nap, before we went Jurong for dinner (had Jap cuisine) and look for running shoes.

Had chee cheong fun for breaky before work and realized it's too little for me haha~

Bf told me he was on course and I tot he is gonna have breakfast w me since his course only starts at 9.30, and he woke up 6+.

Even went to dinner place by myself after work and I saw rainbow!!! Hint my bf d dinner place was ulu, and request to meet but he reply "all good" 😂

There I go expecting too much. No breakfast tgt, nvr pick me up, no overseas trip this yr.

Oops, got to take back my words. Maybe there's chance hehehe~ seems like bf is keen to go Europe. Will see if this really happen