#why did i think that? well i had colleagues & friends who shared my values i guess. but mostly naïveté

[girderednerve]

no love at all for t*mothy sn*der but there are a bunch of library types posting that "do not obey in advance" screencap & i think it is good advice & addresses the extremely common phenomenon of "quiet censorship" or automatic capitulation that a bunch of libraries participate in. it's just also funny to me to act like this will be a new problem? the library that i work for now is run by people who are proud of their professional uprightness & has a board-approved policy against censorship but also treats all people under 18 as the property of their parents & age-restricts AV materials. oh?

[widthofmytongue]

The other night, ahead of Purim, I had some drinks with colleagues. Later in the evening, a conversation with one of them turned to politics. Obviously. I asked her why she’s not a member of a union, and she said pretty bluntly ‘well, I’m a lot more right wing than you’. In the spirit of the mitzvah to drink until unable to distinguish between Mordechai and Haman, friend and foe, I decided to hold back my impulse to hiss, and simply asked her ‘in what ways?’

In truth, she and I agreed on most basic political points. The Tories are abusive, selfish pricks; Labour is wet and stands for nothing; privatisation has all but destroyed Britain; everyone deserves basic necessities like food, housing, even education; we have more in common with each other and with the homeless than we ever will with either Charles III or our bosses. She was also very supportive (far more so than most Brits I meet) of my experiences of antisemitism and transphobia.

Here’s where her right leanings shone through:

1) She obviously believes in meritocracy; those who are best suited to specific tasks deserve recognition. But then this is hardly an alien sentiment on the left, is it?

2) She believes hierarchies are necessary for systems to function; certain people are required to take responsibility for the group, and they supposedly must therefore be above the others. This directly contradicted something she said earlier, that we should all take more responsibility for our shared situation, with which I agreed, but she considered a right wing view. I also gave peer-review as an example of a fully functional non-hierarchical system, which she essentially ignored. An odd response given we work at a university.

3) She believes ‘socialism has never worked’. When I responded to this by saying ‘it’s working right now’ and pointed out that Cuba is thriving and has passed the most progressive LGBT and family rights legislation to date, and that China is the most populace country on earth with the highest GPD and a sitting communist party, she said she’s not informed enough about either of those, ‘but Nordic countries...’ which I interrupted, and we agreed that Nordic countries are not socialist, nor especially good examples of capitalism. We also agreed that capitalism isn’t very viable in the long term, and I made the point that any criticisms of socialism can be made tenfold of capitalism, plus dozens more condemnable. So I think this is just about a fundamental misunderstanding of what ‘socialism’ even refers to, resultant of hegemonic propaganda?

4) She believes issues like transphobia and antisemitism (etc.) are problems on ‘both sides’. Now, I agree with this, but what I said was, the difference is that such prejudice or hate is a betrayal of leftist principles, whereas the same prejudice and hate actually props up many - if not all - right wing values.

One of our main talking points was my assertion that things like the NHS or Right To Buy council housing or tuition fees or whatever are really a question of priorities. I said that there are some things everyone deserves: healthcare, housing, food, power, education, transport, and we should prioritise them, especially as it’s entirely within our (or the state’s) capacity to provide these things. She agreed. However, she seemed stuck on the idea that the government should be expected to provide food. I am entirely unclear on why, but when I mentioned that supermarkets throw away enormous quantities of food she agreed it was despicable. I suggested that such food waste could be legislated against and/or wasted food could be claimed by local authorities to redistribute to those in need, but she seemed dubious. She did agree that local food programmes would be possible, though, yet she called this ‘traditional conservatism’, relating it to some imagined precept of charity. Now I don’t know what kind of topsy-turvy Bizarro world conservatism invests in practical charitable measures (rather than e.g. laundering the money of the rich), but I did assert: ‘when the Black Panthers were doing it, I don’t think anyone called it conservative’.

Anyway, my point about priorities was that strengthening the NHS or ensuring people are housed and fed are simply more important to me than the military, for example, so I suggested we could defund the military in order to re-allocate funding to more important services. Her response to this was, I kid you not, ‘well we can’t just tax the rich and assume that will solve all our problems’. I replied ‘well we could actually, and it would certainly go toward solving some problems, but my suggestion was to defund the military, not tax the rich.’

Now what can we learn from all this? As I said, I actually agree that we should all take more responsibility for our shared plight. The crucial difference, in my mind, is that the reason for doing that is so that we can all lessen one another’s loads, make things easier and more comfortable and even enjoyable for one another. C'est assez, languir en tutelle; l'égalité veut d'autres lois! But the conservative psyche has no desire to make things easier. Perhaps this is obvious from the constant overcomplication of adding obstacles in the form of strawmen. ‘Socialism has never worked!’ It has and it does, but who mentioned socialism? ‘We can’t just tax the rich!’ Yes we can, but who mentioned taxing the rich? ‘The money necessary to keep the NHS going is more than we have available!’ How much is being spent on the Coronation, and where is that money coming from? (spoiler: not ‘the rich’) ‘Helping the needy is a conservative value!’ Okay seriously WTF dude, but also, why then do conservatives stop leftists from doing it every time we try?

These aren’t just rehearsed talking points. These are symptoms of targeted hegemonic misinformation. No one is born conservative, one is made conservative, perhaps even by force. But to be conservative is also at odds with the fundamental experience of social beings; caring for one another, empathy. Part of right wing psychology is the desire to impose one’s own trauma on others, because after all one’s own experience, however brutal, must be the natural order.

Of course, dialectical materialism illuminates precisely the opposite. My experience and hers and indeed yours are not the same, and yet they are all true, even if they are at odds. The difference is that where the right wing practices an ongoing separation into ever smaller in-groups, our immortal science teaches us to understand, to reach out, to gather together and to unite. The revolutionary personality is driven by love, a desire to confront injustice, to heal the world. This is the final struggle, so let each stand in our place...

And tomorrow the International union shall be the human race!

[mightywriting]

Talk with Everyone

I often feel that there is nothing better than a moment so quiet you can hear yourself think. But lately, thanks to the college applicants I work with, I’ve been remembering the value of good conversation. 

When we share stories, ask questions, and uncover new ideas together, it feels like a kind of magic. The more we discuss the more we find out about our intellectual interests, aesthetics, goals, and dreams. Conversation can also become a collaboration that leads to new discoveries.

So, consider this: when college and the future loom on the horizon, what if, instead of jumping into the fray of decision making, we simply had some good chats? 

Talk with family and friends 

First off, I suggest a bit of story sharing. Ask a parent, a sibling, a friend, a teacher what stories come to mind when they think of you. You might even look at old photos as you talk. And, you might find yourself surprised by what they remember, and how these anecdotes have shaped your world. They might recall the kinds of questions you had as a kid, your eagerness to perform for a crowd, your empathetic approach to animals, your young love of adventure. Sometimes our personalities pivot, but often our strongest traits have been with us all along. 

Ask about your ancestors, too. Knowing your family's struggles, accomplishments, and even secrets might help you better know yourself. 

Talk with acquaintances whose lives interest you

Once you’ve exhausted yourself as a subject, look around you.  What problems do you want to solve, what fields do you wish you knew more about? Make a list of people you know and admire, and then reach out to them.  If you’re interested in cyber security, talk to a neighbor who works in the field. If you enjoy art, go on a studio tour. Talk to small business owners, teachers, paramedics. Talk to council members and architects. Ask them when and how they developed their direction, where they went to school, and what they studied.  Learn a little about their lives. If nothing else, you may discover this open secret: adults don’t have it all figured out!

What do I say? 

You might be thinking, that sounds great but I don’t want to bother people. Just be polite. If you are reaching out to a stranger, start with a nice email asking them for a few moments of their time.

Or maybe you are worried about what to ask them. In truth, you probably don’t need to say much. Most people love to share stories. Ask a social worker why they became a social worker, a surgeon what drove them to medicine, ask a woodworker how they developed their craft—you are likely to hear an earful. But just in case, here are a few questions to help you get started.. 

When did you first realize that you wanted to pursue your current career?

Where did you go to school? Do you recommend it? Why, or why not? 

What did you like best about your college experience? 

What do you wish you’d done differently?

Did school prepare you for your career? If not, how did you build the skills you needed?

What advice do you have for high school students today?

The Nonlinear Path

As you listen keep your ears peeled for the twists and turns that most lives take. Just last week, I realized that some of my husband's colleagues at a software company have degrees in theater and philosophy! Hearing stories like these might put your heart at ease. Perhaps you can follow a path you love, and find your way to a success as well.

[sparks-joy-imagines]

Hi! Could I request some hcs or a one shot (whichever you prefer!) where Gojo finds out reader has never orgasmed with a partner before because her previous partners were kind of asses. Thank you either way! Have a lovely day! :)

hello love~ I figured I might as well turn this into a one shot because there had been just so~ many ideas floating around my head for this (including a few Japan traumata lol) - I hope you're ready to buckle up cause this one comes in at 5k appr. enjoy -mesu. PS: A very special thanks to niob for beta-ing this monster and talking me through it!!!❤

Gojō Satoru x f!reader warnings: vaginal penetration, oral sex (receiving), Gojō being a smug arse

You cursed the day you were born. Actually, no. You cursed the day Gojo Satoru was born to torment your existence.

The first time you had met Gojo it had been your first year teaching at Kyoto jujutsu high and your first impression had been that no single living being could withstand his gaze of scrutiny. Given, as the wielder of both infinity and the six eyes there wasn’t anyone on his level to begin with, but did he really have to be an arse about it? Who even hired him as a teacher – a person supposed to be of pedagogic value – in the first place?

Luckily, you didn’t have to see him all that often, usually just whenever the time of year came around for the good-will event with the sister school in Tokyo but he had picked up an unhealthy interest in your person and relentlessly teased you for whatever you did and didn’t do alike.

Utahime had once suggested that it was Gojo’s twisted way of flirting with you and you couldn’t help but scoff and reply that you had seen Gojo flirting. And it was nothing alike how he was acting towards you. Afterwards, Utahime had taken pity on you and acted as an intermittence between you and Gojo so he wouldn’t get under your skin anymore, albeit he mostly ended up getting under hers instead.

At least, that was until tonight. With the students being sound asleep in bed, everyone involved in the event unanimously had decided to head for a drink at a fancy bar in Ginza to celebrate the event ending more or less successfully despite the unforeseen interference of some higher ranked curses and you ended up sitting sandwiched between Utahime and Shoko who both had insisted on a girl’s table away from curious colleagues and ears, while the other staff were seated at a slightly larger table just out of earshot.

The back of your head hit your nape when you downed what felt like the 7th shot of nihonshu. The alcohol prior to the shots had already infiltrated your system, leaving your senses foggy and your tongue loose. You weren’t about to spill your secrets just yet, but it was definitely getting harder to suppress the glances you’d love to gift Gojo who seemed entirely unfazed by any of the liquor he had consumed this evening.

That prick has to use his innate techniques to cope with the alcohol!

You narrowed your eyes, glaring at the tall man across the table who hadn’t even bothered to take his blindfold off while sporting a vaguely amused if aloof expression while the headmaster of Kyoto high and Tokyo high appeared to be in a heated discussion. Speaking of rude.

Lost in your thought of how much you longed to wipe that smirk off of Gojo’s face, you didn’t follow the topic of conversation of your friends at the table who definitely had one nihonshu too many.

“I’m telling you, anatomically speaking, it’s just unfair. It’s so much easier for men to achieve an orgasm, alright? It’s as if nature was against us women,” Shoko sighed dramatically, taking the nihonshu bottle to refill the shot glasses only to find it empty. Another, this time desperate, sigh followed.

“What’s even worse is that men usually don’t care about their partner's pleasure at allll,” Utahime responded with a distinct lull in her voice while she was already close to resting her cheek on the table. She’s definitely had enough but that didn’t stop her from going on, “Ever since I started dating, there’s been what? Maybe two decent enough guys that actually cared if I came too or not.”

“Sounds about right,” Shoko agreed, apparently trying to find some universal truth in the emptiness of the bottle she was still holding onto.

You shot a glance to the two unhappy women at your side, deciding that it was time to share your two cents of truth under your breath, “At least you’ve had partners before who took care of your needs, too. I for once have only been with arseholes who could care less if I came or not. And so I never did… so…consider yourselves lucky? I guess.”

As expected, your volume made it impossible for them to catch what you were revealing and Utahime unbeknownst interrupted the aftermath to your soft confession by suddenly straightening her posture in a surge of drunken energy, grabbing one of your and Shoko’s hands respectively to declare something about not letting this circumstance prevent anyone from having a great night.

You could’ve sworn the corner of Gojo’s mouth perked up the second you shot him another glance…

A few drinks, a second bar, and a couple hours later.

Your head was spinning slightly and you leaned your back against the wall of the establishment you’d just stepped out of. Damn your senpai for making you drink. You soaked in the wet, clean night air which could only be achieved during the rainy season in Tokyo.

The moment you pressed your eyes shut you could hear Utahime demanding to move onto a karaoke bar and continue this until morning. Of fucking course, you thought to yourself and opened your eyes, desperate for any excuse to skip what was about to come.

Among general consensus with a few nods and exclamations here and there, you slowly noticed how Gojo was watching you intently. By now he had actually gotten rid of his blindfold and was sporting his dark shades, his soft hair was framing his angular face, slightly damp by the drizzle and you would have gladly punched him for the way the street lights and shop signs reflected in his hair.

Still, right now you had other things to worry about and so you took a deep breath and spoke up, “Thanks for this evening but I’ll have to take my leave now. It’s already late and I don’t think my voice can handle singing right now.” An obvious lie as your voice was just fine, but it’d do the trick of getting you out of corporate pressure.

And that’s exactly what happened. Your excuse was accepted at face value and you were wished a good night’s rest. Umbrellas were opened and the group made of two faculties strolled towards the closet illuminated Karaoke sign.

You waited until everyone was on the move, so you could gather yourself in your time without any scrutinising eyes on you.

“Leaving an intoxicated damsel to her own devices? How could I be the strongest without taking care of her? Allow me to lead you home, (Y/N)~”

Just when you thought you had lived through the worst, Gojo’s voice piped up right next to your ear. You hadn’t seen him stay behind and now he was close, dangerously so, and he didn’t even care to hide the glee in his voice.

You managed to turn your head in his direction and gift him – what was in your imagination – a nasty stare. For Gojo, it rather seemed like you were trying your best to fixate your dizzy gaze on him.

He sighed and for once dropped his excruciating façade, speaking in a normal tone, “Seriously tough, (Y/N), I’d rather lead you home. Tokyo’s far from being safe at night.”

Seeing and actually hearing Gojo apparently genuinely concerned made you weigh your chances enough that you finally sighed in defeat, “Fine. But only up to the doorstep.”

Gojo blinked at you repeatedly, appearing almost insulted that you dared to think him a man who would take advantage of women like that – truth being that he was more insulted that you thought that he was actually in need of such tricks – and made an off-hand remark of how he could never.

You waved your hand dismissively and slowly tried to straighten your posture, “You’re here by car, right? That’s why you used your innate technique to not get drunk. Wish I could’ve done the same, wouldn’t be dying of spinning world syndrome right now.”

That stopped Gojo’s rant about his hurt pride. A sheepish smirk appeared on his lips and he stated flatly, “You noticed.”

You nodded, which turned out to have been a terrible idea. Nausea overcame you and you tried to curl into a ball, but Gojo was next to you in a second, smoothly wrapping his long arm around your waist while his free hand reached for your hand, easily securing your stance like that.

“Let’s get you home, shall we?”

You nodded and simply concentrated on not getting sick while he led you towards the parking lot where his car was parked. He left you shortly to pay for the ticket and you leaned against one of the nearby vending machines, concentrating on your breathing.

A few moments later the relatively quiet night was disturbed by the low roar of what turned out to be a pricey sports car. It didn’t take long for Gojo to stop said car right in front of you. Ever the gentleman he stepped out of the driver’s seat and opened the door to the passenger’s side for you, offering his hand to you for assistance. The entire picture which enfolded in front of you seemed to be taken out of a romance.

Only when you wobbled over to the car and felt the infinity between your hand and Gojo’s you snapped back to reality, pursing your lips as you stated, “You never let anyone actually touch you, do you?”

“If someone’s worth my while, sure I do,” Gojo replied with a sly smile, but something in his eyes appeared resigned, almost lost. But maybe that was just your imagination? Almost promising.

You didn’t even have time to follow-up on his statement as he simply shut the door in your face, cutting any further discussion short. Soon, Gojo settled in the driver’s seat and drove off towards your hotel. You didn’t even question how he knew where he needed to go.

Silence fell upon you and you simply turned your gaze to the flashing street lights, allowing you to marvel at Tokyo’s nocturnal atmosphere for a while. This was so much better than making your way through the confusing public transport in time for the last train. You shot Gojo another gaze and were surprised to find him diligently keeping his eyes on the road.

At once you wondered if you unwittingly had been keeping him from joining the others at karaoke. Singing one’s soul out and getting undressed in the process seemed right up Gojo’s alley.

“…Thank you for taking me back to the hotel. I appreciate it. You… didn’t really have to do this though, I’m sure you wanted to attend karaoke with the others,” you started off your half-apology.

A soft yet deep chuckle escaped Gojo’s throat.

“Oh sure I did, hun. There’s been something on my mind concerning you which is just soooo much more fun than karaoke could ever be after all,” Gojo casually replied, eyes never straying from the road.

You frowned and cocked your head in an inquisitive manner.

“Don’t act confused now, love,” Gojo smirked as he pulled over and parked the car right next to the entrance of the hotel. He unfastened his seatbelt to turn to you completely and casually rested his elbow against his seat, “Now, why don’t you tell me about never having orgasmed with a partner before?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as Gojo watched you curiously while you didn’t believe the meaning behind what your ears had picked up on.

“I…,” you spilled quickly, already feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. This had to be a nightmare. How did he know of that? You never told a soul, too embarrassed by your unfortunate choice of past sexual partners, and now Gojo Satoru – out of all possible people – knew of your secret?!

The panic must have shown on your face as Gojo’s smug expression softened slightly and he leaned closer to you, only stopping when the tip of his nose almost collided with yours, “You should take more care who might be listening in when you’re talking to yourself, (Y/N).”

You nodded once and leaned back, avoiding Gojo’s touch and gaze as best you could, “T-thanks for the ride.” Even if his revelation had thrown you off entirely, you tried your best to hide it.

“My pleasure. I’ll have to insist on taking you to your room though.” Gojo’s tone was unforgiving and made it very clear that you wouldn’t get out of him walking you all the way.

You sighed deeply and submitted to your fate, sinking into your seat until he had rounded the car and opened the passenger’s door so you could accept his hand to disembark in a semi-elegant manner.

Once you had found your balance he let go of your hand, matching your pace as you walked towards your room, acting as if he hadn’t just nonchalantly invaded your privacy. You shot him several glances but Gojo acted very interested in the interior of the hotel. You didn’t buy it though. Obviously he was just relishing in the fact that he got under your skin.

So he didn’t want to push any further? Fine by you. You huffed softly and pushed the button for your floor once you boarded the lift, Gojo strolling on your heels, hands shoved into the pocket of his trousers.

You refrained from looking at anything close to Gojo’s direction, albeit you could feel his piercing gaze on you. You used the time of the short ride to get your room card out of your purse and as soon as the automatic doors opened, you darted out of the lift and unlocked the door to your room with a soft beep.

Barely having shuffled inside you got rid of your purse and turned around to thank Gojo once again, finding him right on your doorstep.

“Thanks, Gojo, I appreciate what you did tonight,” you smiled awkwardly at the close proximity and mustered the courage to look into his eyes, just to be surprised by their intensity.

“Of course,” Gojo hummed, resting his left arm on the doorframe he leaned closer, stopping right before crossing the threshold with his movements. He easily kept your eyes locked in his, making you all but forget about bringing some distance between you.

“Before I leave… y’know I could help you out with your little problem, (Y/N). If you’re up for it, that is.”

Gojo’s voice was low, eyes dark, pupils dilated with a certain hunger as they stared right into your soul.

When his words registered a soft gasp unwittingly left your lips as your eyes grew wide.

Just what was happening? Had Utahime been right all along?

The next moment Gojo was leaning down to you, making all but sure that your senses shut down to a bare minimum. Standing there frozen in place, time seemed to slow down around you as your eyes flickered from Gojo’s luscious lips to his cyan eyes and back to his lips again.

Was this really happening right now?

Your heart pounded against your chest harshly and you pressed your eyes shut to calm your nerves. That is when you felt his soft lips against the skin of your cheek, undoubtedly skin on skin. He‘d really turned his infinity off!

“As I have told you prior, I don’t take advantage of intoxicated women. But as I understand it, you still have a couple hours before your bullet train back to Kyoto tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you, (Y/N). You won’t regret it. . .~”

You held your breath and nothing. When you finally opened your eyes again Gojo was gone. Simply vanished! He had done exactly what he had promised to do. Taken you home, up to your doorstep and not a millimetre further.

Did this mean that he was going to keep what he offered if you turned up at his doorstep tomorrow? Up until now Gojo had never given you any reason to doubt him. Sure, he was a prick, but he was honest about being a prick. At least that was more than could be said about any of your former affiliations.

It took a couple more moments before you managed to close the door and turn in to a sleepless night contemplating if you might as well take Gojo up on his offer.

The next day. After some empty excuses to Utahime of why you couldn’t spend the last hours in Tokyo together. In front of Gojo’s apartment.

You stared at the kanji at the apartment, contemplating if you should really proceed now. It had been a pain to get Gojo’s address, dodging several inquisitive questions of Utahime, but now that you were finally here you weren’t sure if you should be anymore.

Given Gojo had lived up to every single thing he had proclaimed so far, plus he never had given you any reason not to trust him. Still, did being here meant that you were willing to compromise your integrity for something as trivial as good sex? More so than the actual act, you were afraid of what it might mean for your future relationship with Gojo; which would be anything but professional hereafter.

Before you could spiral further into second guessing yourself, the apartment door in front of you opened smoothly, offering the view to a slightly dishevelled looking Gojo apparently just out of the shower.

The moment you locked eyes with his bare ocean orbs, a smug grin emerged on his face, “Fancy seeing you here, (Y/N). Come in.”

You mumbled a greeting and stepped into his modern apartment, quickly getting rid of your shoes and outer layers while Gojo walked further back into the flat calling out to you, “Can I offer you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Pineapple juice?~”

You rolled your eyes, very convinced that you just shouldn’t have come here. You followed Gojo’s voice into a broad living room with an open kitchen. The colours and décor were kept simple, black and white, sometimes a splash of colour in the colour of his goddamn eyes.

After having accessed the surroundings to your heart’s content you turned to Gojo, “Do you happen to have pineapple juice – notoriously known for apparently for making the taste of oral sex sweeter – at hand for your guests at all times? Or did you go shopping for me yesterday?”

A soft chuckle, “I happen to like the flavour. Plus, I am quite certain your juices aren’t in need of any enhancement.” A wink followed. What a bastard.

Ignoring the faint blush that emerged on your cheeks, you countered, “And what exactly makes you so sure about that, mh?”

Gojo shortly nibbled on his full lips as he sized you up with hungry eyes. Then, he slowly rounded the kitchen counter until he stood right in front of you. The smell of his surprisingly fruity after-shave intoxicated your senses.

“Wanna find out?”

You managed a nod and Gojo smirked wider, simply lifting you up on the counter so you were closer to eye level with him.

And then he finally let his soft luscious lips collide with yours, involving you in a breathless, inifity-less kiss while your arms wrapped around his neck on their own accord. Gojo smirked against your lips pulling you closer to himself, gladly taking the opportunity to feel up through the fabric of the blouse you were wearing for travel.

How you cursed the school’s clothing protocol at that moment!

Frowning slightly you broke the kiss, quickly trying to get rid of your blouse with your hands, but Gojo had other plans, catching your hands in his he leaned closer and purred on your lips, “Ah-ah (Y/N), there’s still plenty of time till your bullet train. No need to rush~ This is more than a mere quicky to shoot one’s load and carry on, after all. I need you to relax and enjoy the ride.”

You weren’t quite sure what did the trick. The proximity to him or his genuine tone, but you visibly relaxed and started shamelessly feeling Gojo up in return. You weren’t surprised to find defined abs when you pushed the fabric of his shirt out of the way and followed their lines for a bit before you moved on to explore his back.

“Good girl,” Gojo chuckled in your ear and let out a teasing gasp in response to your initiative before he went to nibble on your earlobe, making you cross your legs behind his hips as a soft whimper escaped your lips.

“Sensitive, are we?”

Gojo moved back, capturing your lips in another kiss, this time parting yours with his cheeky tongue so he could explore your mouth to his heart’s content. You happily complied and concentrated on his tongue enough that you didn’t notice how he skilfully unbuttoned your blouse.

Your legs tightened around Gojo’s hips and you moaned when you felt his growing bulge through the fabric. Gojo took this opportunity to kiss down your neck only to ravish it mercilessly while his hands had taken a liking to your boobs, kneading them through your lacey bra.

“Hah~” More and more lewd noises filled the heated air as Gojo pinched your hardened nipples just the right amount to send shivers down your spine and you were glad that you didn’t have to depend on your trembling legs anymore.

Desperate for support you scratched blindly over Gojo’s upper arms which led him to gift you a wolfish smile as he pulled back enough to strip off your blouse and a swift motion later your bra followed.

Pouting slightly you picked on his shirt, making Gojo scoff and get rid of it, too. You sighed content about the equal stages of undress and wiggled slightly on top of the counter, enjoying the friction this provided against both the fabric of your pants and Gojo’s bulge.

“You little minx,” Gojo growled lowly, suddenly pinning you down to the counter by your neck. The cold surface sent a shiver through the entirety of your body. He adjusted his grip to be more gentle, yet still determined enough to hold you in place, actively preventing you from escaping from his touch. You would welcome the sweet torture that was to follow deliberately and Gojo was very aware of that.

Soon enough Gojo began his agonisingly slow treatment of your torso, mouthing his way from your collar bones to your chest where he spent his sweet time circling each nipple with his tongue.

You didn’t know what exactly he was doing with his shameless long tongue but you had never felt your body rise to the touch on its own quite like that and it took a minute to recognise it was your own voice which echoed through the apartment so obscenely.

Desperate for more stimulation which Gojo still withheld from you, you tried to pull him closer with your crossed legs, earning a suppressed moan from him as his erect member brushed against your clothed sex. How much you would’ve given for those layers to finally be gone.

“You really haven’t been getting laid properly at all, huh.”

Completely unnerved by now you groaned and shot Gojo an acid glare, but the elite sorcerer just chuckled to himself as he straightened back up, sizing you up in the process once again. You had never seen his eyes this dark.

In a split second his hands were undoing your pants as if they had never done anything else in his life and a few moments later you were sitting on the counter completely undressed.

When you blinked away your surprise, Gojo brushed another deep kiss on your lips, humming on them, “I’d hold onto something if I were you~”

And then he dove down to your core, hands holding your hips in place well aware that you wouldn’t be able to hold still.

As soon as his lips connected to your nether folds, a lightning impulse flashed through your body and your loudest moan yet left your lips. Your head flew back by itself and you wreathed as best you could on the counter top for either more or less friction, you weren’t quite sure.

All the while Gojo relentlessly continued his pursuit of your sex, tongue swirling expertly over and around your clit, building up a certain intensity before he moved down slightly to lick and mouth at your entrance.

You desperately held onto the edge of the counter for support, spilling his name over and over again, while Gojo cheekily thrust his tongue into you for a taste before he redirected his attention to your clit again.

The coil in your core seemed to harden and become undone at the same time and another flick of Gojo’s tongue made you scream as you jerked up as you finally hit your high. Juices spilled out of your cunt and you buried your flushed face in your hands while your entire body was convulsing in ecstasy.

Gojo made sure to keep his grip on you so you wouldn’t slide down from the counter, licking his soiled lips. Once he was sure that your breathing calmed down a bit he gently stroked away a couple of stray strands of hair and smirked, “Told ya you weren’t in the need of any enhancement, babe. You’re to die for~”

Still concentrating on your oxygen intake you were feeling rather overwhelmed with everything that had played out just now. It took a bit of bargaining with yourself to search for Gojo’s gaze again, but when your eyes met you immediately noticed the mixture of hunger and smug complacency in his. He had gotten you good, but you decided you weren’t going to leave before payback.

And so you cocked your brow up and smirked, “I admit you lived up to your word, Gojo. Mind if we take round two to the bedroom?”

A grin.

“Not at all, princess,” Gojo replied and picked you up bridal style to carry you off into his chamber.

Gojo’s bedroom was dark. Both furniture and bedding were either held in a dark grey or black and the shades were lowered. When Gojo let you down on the bed you took a look around and tended your head slightly at the unexpected interior.

You were torn out of your thoughts when you heard Gojo unbuckle his belt, followed by the sound of his zipper and turned back to see him in his whole glory.

His member was definitely on the larger side, but you were happy to see it came short of what you knew would be painful to insert. It had a nice girth and was slightly tended to the right, the tip glistening with pre-cum meant for your prior endeavors. You licked your lips unconsciously, eager to feel it in you.

“Marveled at my dick enough, have we? ” Gojo smirked knowingly and reached for a condom which just happened to lie on top of his nightstand.

You nodded slightly and watched him routinely put it on, before you pulled him on top of the bed and ravished his mouth with yours. He had deserved your undivided attention after making true of his promise and you were way past the stage of having any second thoughts.

Gojo curled his lips against yours, easily positioning himself on top of you while his hands were suddenly all over your body. It seemed like he wanted to leave his touch on every inch of your being and honestly? At this very moment you didn’t mind if he did.

The energy between the two of you grew hotter by the minute and you gasped for breath when he readjusted your hips so his member was prodding against your entrance.

“Last chance, (Y/N)…hng~”

The strain in his voice did it for you and you brushed a fleeting kiss on his cheek on your way to his ear, “Take me already, Satoru!”

A deep groan reverberated in Gojo’s upper body at the mention of his first name and he penetrated you in a swift, smooth motion, making both of you moan with pleasure.

He gave you a moment before he moved, offering the opportunity to get used to his considerable size before he started moving at a cheeky pace. Something had just clicked between the two of you and you moved against him as if you had never done anything else in your life. It felt liberating. It felt right. . .

A couple many minutes and exchanges of ecstasy later.

You were laying sprawled half-way over Gojo while he lazily played with your slightly damp hair. After your last round he had suggested a shower since you technically still had a train to catch and you thought it a good idea.

If you hadn’t stopped him, you would’ve also stained his bathroom with his name. Who would’ve thought that his infinite also applied to sexual stamina? But then again, it was Gojo who you were talking about.

You weren’t quite sure how this session was going to change your relationship with Gojo in the future, but you definitely didn’t regret going through with it.

You shuffled slightly on the bed and stretched slightly, “Mh, what’s the time?”

“Hn, ten past two,” Gojo replied with a raspy, yet slightly amused voice.

Ten past two. Ten past two. The bullet train back to Kyoto you were supposed to board was leaving at half past two!

You jumped out of the bed, hurriedly reaching for your clothes.

“FUCK!”

“Any time, (Y/N)”

You shot Gojo another glare, painfully aware that he had to have known.

Gojo only gifted you a wink and grinned, “If you are going to be as nice to me as you were just now the next time we meet, I might be willing to help you out, (Y/N)~”

You cursed the day you were born. Actually, no. You cursed the day Gojo Satoru was born to torment your existence.,

[seriouslyhooked]

The Bast Bad Idea (Part 2)

Three-part CS AU where Emma and Killian are doctors working at the same hospital (world without pandemic). They’ve yet to meet, but Emma has definitely seen the sexy Dr. Jones in her travels at Mist Haven Medical. It’s generally a bad idea to get involved with a colleague, but a little fantasizing never hurt… right? Inspired by the song ‘Bad Idea’ by Ariana Grande and a TV couple who set the bar for true love stories.

Part One Here. Story available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hello everyone! First and foremost, I want to start with a huge thank you to all of you who have reached out about this story. The response was so far beyond what I was expecting, but I am thrilled to know that all of you enjoy a CS Doctor AU as much as I do. As someone who grew up watching Grey’s Anatomy, it’s essentially engrained in my DNA to love a medical romance, and this story is one I have wanted to write for a long time. I’ve had more than a month away from writing thanks to my busy schedule, but finally my muse came to play and add a bit of fluff to this sweet short story. Chapter two picks up with a critical question – what was Dr. Jones going to propose to Dr. Swan…? Without further ado, here is our answer. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy!

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

His eyes strayed down to her lips, and Emma wet them absentmindedly. She heard a low growl, and realized it was coming from Killian. She shifted in her seat, turned on in a way she had never been before. Instinctively she moved closer, sensing the sinfully sweet current between them, like lightning just before it cracked across a summer sky. The instant attraction was breathtaking. It felt almost out of time and space.

“We could…” she continued, nudging him along and hoping he would elaborate. She wanted so badly for him to say aloud what she herself was wishing for.

Yet where Emma expected words, she was instead met with action, tantalizing and surprising, but inspiring something in her she never expected. Before she knew it, Emma was in Killian’s arms, aching for this moment, kissing him and knowing she was positively senseless. All that existed was this kiss, this touch. It was electrifying and invigorating, a blaze rushing through her blood stream that emboldened a part of her she’d always held back. Desire. That was what this was, and it was luscious and intoxicating.

Following his lead, Emma broke away from the kiss only to gasp for air as he crowded her body against the wall. The hardness of the cement blocks behind her, coupled with the heat and definition of Dr. Killian Jones was too much to handle. She arched into him, striving for contact, and reveling in the feel of his skin on hers. The only problem was these damn clothes between them. Never in her life had she been irritated at this doctor’s coat she’d worked so hard to earn. For years she studied and poured everything she was into medicine, all for the authority this coat portrayed, but she practically purred when Killian stripped hers off and tossed it to the ground. Pushing his off of his body in return made her mind race. The muscles of his chest and arms were driving her to distraction. Then they flexed, and she swallowed harshly, earning a deep, decadent chuckle from this man who drove her crazy.

“See something you like, Swan?”

God that cockiness. They’d never had any kind of real conversation before now, but the way he smiled spoke volumes. His air and his persona were dripping in assuredness. Emma used to think that she hated so much confidence, but when it came to Killian, she craved it something fierce. It was somewhat infuriating, the way his eyes shone with mischief and conceit, but it was also hotter than anything she’d ever known. Still, part of her would rather die than admit that aloud. She had her pride, no matter how wrapped up in this moment she may be.

“It’s hard to say,” she replied, her voice sounding out with a shredded silkiness that she’d never heard before. “I haven’t seen much of anything yet.”

“My apologies, love. Allow me to rectify the situation.”

Emma watched as this ridiculously attractive man purposefully teased her. With deft fingers he reached for the base of his scrub top, inching the material higher up his body. The trail of dark hair he revealed was evocative, but it held no candle the shape and tone of those abs underneath. Sweet Jesus, were those real? Emma bit back a groan at the sight, her lip pressed tight between her teeth. It took everything in her to keep her hands from reaching for him. She lay them flat on the wall behind her at her sides instead, but they balled into fists unconsciously as Killian eventually tossed the shirt away.

His black hair was mussed now, both from removing the scrubs with that always-present swagger, and from her fingers having run through it during their never-ending kisses. His eyes were dark navy blue, but still they shone with hunger and delight. His grin was a mix of charming and predatory, but instead of inciting a fight or flight response, Emma only wanted to surrender. This was a man who knew he was in complete control. He had hooked her, totally and beyond any shadow of doubt, and all she wanted was for him to have his way with her.

The curses he whispered while helping her shed her own scrubs were like prayers on high, a sweet song to her ears that only added to his allure. Killian’s eyes never strayed from her, but his reactions were so open and transparent. He hid nothing, allowing her a glimpse to the world inside, and it caused the power between them to shift. If Emma was being hunted, then she was also hunting in return, and Killian seemed ready to be caught.

“Emma, I -,”

His voice faded out, and she struggled to hear him. Instead, there was a blaring alarm. Was this a fire drill? Why had the light in the room gone hazy? Still, Emma heard herself whisper his name.

“Killian?”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The screech of the sharp, incessant chiming by her ears wrenched Emma’s eyes open, and immediately she groaned in disappointment. All of that – every exquisite moment – was a dream. Ugh, of course it was! Because this was her life now: fantasizing about a hot trauma surgeon ceaselessly and wishing that her memories of him were more than mere imagination.  

“Damn it,” she muttered aloud, covering her eyes with her hand in frustration. With her vision blocked, Emma was more aware of the feeling that her body was wrapped up in her sheets. She’d obviously been tossing and turning through the night, restless in ways she rarely was before seeing Doctor Jones. These freaking dreams just felt so real, and they’d only gotten worse since officially meeting him.

That was three days ago now, but things had been chaotic in the meantime. The level four trauma that came in when they’d been formally introduced totally swamped the ER. Emma was called down for consult on multiple patients, needing to give life and death assessments and treatment plans for half a dozen people. While down there, Emma had the chance to see David and Killian in action. She was struck, even in the grips of adrenaline, by their cohesion and capability. They were cool and collected, battling odds that were dire to say the least, but they prevailed. Emma had worked for years to hone her craft, to heighten her skills, and to meet the moments of medicine that her work provided. But the energy in the ER had shifted, and she felt her own abilities elevated by the camaraderie and collectiveness of everyone in the hospital.

That shared experience only lasted a short while, for after initial inspections and emergency consults, Emma was quickly rerouted to the surgical wing. For 16 hours straight she worked to save the lives of four people, and through something that felt like magic, or maybe divine intervention, she was successful each and every time. That good fortune held, not only for her, but for all of her colleagues as well. The hospital had managed something next to impossible – they had saved every victim of the horrible accident, but the work had been backbreaking. When she’d finally scrubbed out of her last procedure, Emma admitted defeat, heading home and sleeping for twelve straight hours.

Her next shift was markedly slower, and Emma had the chance to see the progress of her post-op patients, and to connect with the others in her unit. It was critically important that the doctors, nurses, admins, tech teams, and other staff were all feeling strong and secure. Patients needed everyone working as a collective whole, and Emma took it upon herself to monitor that. It was unusual for a Doctor, especially one who wasn’t overseeing daily operations, but it mattered to Emma. Saving lives took so much more than her medical degree and steady hands. She needed each and every person in the cardiac wing to be successful, and she valued every one of them for what they brought to the team.

Unfortunately, while Emma’s day was slower and steadier, there was also a favorite element now lacking. She wasn’t too proud to admit that she’d willingly joined Ruby on the daily trip to the coffee cart. Actually, she’d been the one to page Ruby this time, earning more than a bit of teasing from her best friend, but Killian and David never showed. Only later, when Emma was at the tail end of her workday and helping with a consult in the ER, did she learn why.

“He was here for sixty-eight straight hours,” David said bluntly, after having confirmed his diagnosis for a patient presenting with a blood circulation issue.

“I’m sorry?” Emma asked, confused for a moment at David’s turn of topic.

“Killian,” David said, prompting Emma’s face to heat. Here she was, hoping it wasn’t totally obvious that she was looking for a man she hardly knew beyond imaginings, but David had seen through her in a matter of moments.

“Oh, um – that’s, well that’s… crazy. Sixty-eight hours?” That beat even her record, and she’d been called a workaholic on more than one occasion.

“Mhmm. We were on the end of a twelve-hour shift when the call came in and he stayed, until every last patient in the trauma department was seen and attended to. I left for eight hours and was dead to the world the entire time. Still felt laggy when coming back. Meanwhile, he caught maybe four hours sleep total interspersed between rounds, crashing in on call rooms. You’d never know though. He was totally unfazed. Brilliant as ever. It was like being back in the field again.”

“Seriously?” Emma asked, amazed at that. She was no stranger to long shifts, but to work that hard for that long was a herculean feat. Somehow, though, she wasn’t surprised to hear Killian had pulled it off.

“Yup. I had to force him to go back to his hotel. Actually, Regina had to. I tried, but until the Chief said something, he wouldn’t budge. She had to spew all sorts of protocol and legal jargon at him to get him to go. Even then, I could tell he was debating whether to stay or not.”

“He has a real connection with his patients,” Emma commented, vocalizing a fact she’d ascertained by watching him in action. Killian cared deeply, and while his main job may be all about stemming the flow of crisis, and bouncing around from one case to the next just to keep people holding on, he kept track of all those he helped, and invested in each patient no matter what.

“Maybe. I think it had more to do with the fact that it was only eight am and you wouldn’t be at the coffee stand yet.”

Before Emma could respond, David was paged for something else. He’d left her with a polite goodbye, but also a knowing smile. Another time, Emma might have tried to fake that she wasn’t interested or deny that there was something between her and Killian, but instead she was too busy fixating on what she’d just heard. Emma carried David’s assessment around with her for the rest of the day, well after leaving the hospital and heading home. She spent the night wondering if what David said was true. Was Killian as interested in her as she was in him?

“This might be presumptuous of me, love, but I find I’m helpless to resist. I was wondering – that is, I was hoping that perhaps, you and I, we could…”

“We could what?” she whispered, getting out of her car, heading inside to her next shift. “What was he going to ask me?”

“Did you say something, Emma?”

Emma jumped at the unexpected question, senses on high alert as she stood before the elevator in the parking garage. When she found Mary Margaret only a few feet from her, and clearly the orator of the previous question, Emma relaxed slightly. She tried her best not to show her embarrassment, but it was difficult. Now she was talking to herself? Jeez, she was truly losing it at this point.

“Oh, uh, nothing. How are you today?” she asked her friend. Mary Margaret smiled widely. Her excitement was palpable, filling up the elevator car as the two of them stepped inside.

“I’m great! Just eager to get to work.”

“Any interesting cases on the schedule?”

“Oh, uh, sure, there’s a few, I guess. Well really most of my day is going to be in consult with the Chief’s office.”

“Wait a second, you have to spend a prolonged period of time with the Evil Queen and you are smiling? Who are you and what have you done with Mary Margaret?” Her friend now looked flustered, clearly trying to grasp at an explanation and then it dawned on Emma. “This is about David isn’t it?”

“David?” Mary Margaret asked, her pitch higher than it had been just moments ago. Emma laughed at her friend’s terrible play acting. Trying to pretend that this wasn’t about David Nolan was a lost cause. Eventually Mary Margaret realized that, and she sighed, releasing the tension in her shoulders as she exhaled. “Okay, yes, I am seeing Dr. Nolan today.”

“Let me guess, he’s also going to be at the admin meetings.”

“They’re about coordinating long term therapies better with our emergency protocols and treatments. So yes, the head of the ER is likely to make an appearance.”

“I see,” Emma said, biting back a smirk so as not to make Mary Margaret too uncomfortable. In the end though her curiosity won out, and she had to ask. “So, any movement there?”

“Movement?”

“Has he asked you out yet?”

“Not exactly.” Emma waited for her friend to explain herself. Mary Margaret held off for a few seconds before blurting out the truth. “I actually asked him.”

“Really?” Emma was shocked. Not because she thought any less of Mary Margaret. In fact, quite the opposite. She was proud of Mary Margaret for going for what she wanted. She just had never ever seen Mary Margaret step outside of a comfort zone like that, and certainly not with a hospital colleague. “Good for you. And he obviously said yes.”

“Why is it obvious?” Emma rolled her eyes, but in a teasing way.

“Come on, you know you two were making heart eyes at each other the other day. There was a definite spark. We all saw it.”

“I’m honestly surprised you noticed since you had your own, what did you just call them? ‘Heart eyes’? Well, you definitely had heart eyes for a certain trauma surgeon.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to blush, and what perfect timing, because the elevator doors had just opened to the lobby. They exited the quiet of the elevator to a hustle and bustle found only at a top tier hospital. It felt like a swarm of people, buzzing every which way, on their own individual paths.

“David and I going to dinner tomorrow,” Mary Margaret said quietly, looking around and finding no eavesdropping colleagues. When the coast was clear, she smiled, looking back at Emma with excitement all over her face. “That’s all I know though. I may have asked him out, but he made it very clear he had plans for how our first date was going to be.”

“I have a good feeling about this guy,” Emma said, referring to David. She had known Mary Margaret for a long time, and she knew how much her friend wished for a real and solid love in her life. Few people desired and deserved that kind of connection like Mary Margaret, and for Emma, there was a real satisfaction in seeing her friend’s instant connection with a stand-up man. Based on past experience, there weren’t too many of those to go around.

“Which one?” Mary Margaret asked. Emma stammered something non-committal out, causing her friend to laugh once more. “And that right there is all the answer I need. See you later, Emma. Oh, and when you see Killian again, just go for it. Believe me, it’s so much better than waiting and wondering.”

With that, Mary Margaret headed towards the wing of the hospital where the Chief and her admins worked. At the same time, Emma turned her attention to the cardiac unit.  She had a ways to go to get there, but while still in the main entrance of the hospital she was stopped short by a gruff, and somewhat uncertain voice.

“Excuse me, Doctor Swan?”

“Yes?” Emma replied, looking to the young man who approached her. Taking in his features, she realized she knew him peripherally. He was one of the new interns cycling through the hospital this year, but he hadn’t worked in the cardio wing or in a surgical capacity. Taking in his lanyard, which bore his ID card over plain clothes, she saw he was an ER intern. Interesting. “Can I help you?”

“This is for you.” The young man offered her a paper box. Emma accepted, thoroughly confused before the intern elaborated. “Curtesy of Doctor Jones.”

“Oh,” Emma said, suddenly incredibly interested. Unable to resist, she opened the box. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but what she found made her smile widely. “These are flowers. Paper flowers.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m not entirely sure of the significance, but Doctor Jones told me there is a note inside as well. He wanted me to be sure to mention that.”

Emma was more than excited to read what this astonishing man would write to her, but something the intern said reminded her of the awkwardness of this situation. Had Killian used his authority over the interns to have this delivered? It wasn’t a crazy assumption. Many of the residents and attendings here saw interns as the low rungs on the ladder. They were meant to be learning and training, but often they were sent on coffee runs and foolish errands. Emma never believed in that though. She found it unkind and unnecessary.

“To be honest, it was hard to convince Doctor Jones to let me bring these,” the intern said, perplexing Emma further while eerily reading her mind. “I had to offer about a half dozen times. My shift was ending, you see, and I’ve been looking for a way to thank Doctor Jones since he got here. You know he created extra hours in the ER skills lab? He’s working with first years too. We get very little access usually, because the third years are prepping for exams and stuff, but he convinced Doctor Nolan to extend the hours. He’s even hosting classes himself. Cool right?”

“Very cool,” Emma said with a nod, and another smile. She breathed out a sigh of relief, genuinely happy to realize this man she’d been thinking of was good to others. It also made accepting this thoughtful gift so much easier.

From there, Caleb said goodbye, heading out for whatever interns did with down time these days. Oh, who was she kidding? Sleeping. That’s what she’d done, and no doubt that was what all interns still wanted most of all. Emma though, felt more awake now than she had in a long while. She found a quiet corner in one of the corridors leading to the cardio unit and took a seat, opening the box away from prying eyes.

Inside the box there were six different types of what looked like origami flowers. They were beautiful and delicate, and she wondered where he could have bought them. Only when she opened the note did she realize the truth.

Emma,

As you know, I’ve been away for quite a while, out in the field in a completely different world. In the desert there’s not really that much to do, except survive and keep as many of your people as well as you can. The downtime is long and hot and quiet. I picked up these tricks from a fellow soldier. It kept my hands at the ready and my mind clear, and there’s an honest beauty in them that reminds me of you. 

Truth be told, there’s a flower for each time I’ve tried to catch you at the coffee cart since our meeting. Clearly my missions have been unsuccessful, so this calls for a change in tactics…

Emma smiled at the thoughtfulness and felt the pull of butterflies low in her chest.  He thought she was beautiful, and he said it without fear. Had a man ever said so much? Had it ever mattered? Certainly not like it did now. Reading on, Emma laughed at the lightheartedness of the note and the bit of cheeky humor that accompanied it. His easygoing candor and transparency enchanted her, drawing her in even more than she already was. Then she memorized the time and place he suggested that they meet at the bottom of the page, knowing nothing and no one was going to keep her from this meeting.

Only after reading through his handwritten thoughts three or four times did she realize an added layer of perfection: these flowers weren’t just handmade and crafted with intention. They were also safe for her to take with her to her ward of the hospital. Being in and out of the ICU and cardiac units, Emma couldn’t bring real flowers into her offices without putting some patients at risk, but she could have these. From within the box she selected a bright yellow blossom, beautiful and intricate and folded to perfection. Wordlessly she tucked it away in her pocket. The others were deposited for safe keeping in her office as soon as she arrived back in the East Wing, and displayed on her windowsill, brightening the space.

The hours between the start of her shift and the time she was meant to meet Killian passed by slowly. Her rounds usually distracted her, but not today. While she still gave all due attention to her patients, Emma had that sense in the back of her mind that this afternoon would bring so much more to the forefront. The promise of seeing him again kept her heart pattering faster than it should be, and by the time the clock was minutes from their meeting, she was positively bursting with anticipation.

“Okay, usually I would give you a hard time and pretend to tag along, but even I can’t mess with a smile like that.” Ruby’s words snapped Emma’s focus back to the hallway where she was standing, pretending to read a chart. As she looked to her friend, however, she would never be able to recall what was on the screen in front of her. Ruby grinned when their eyes met. “He gave you the flowers, didn’t he?”

“You knew?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“Yup. Ran into him at the cart a couple of times. He was really starting to piss off the kiosk guy with all his loitering. Had to give him a hundred dollars just to shut him up.”

“He didn’t!”

“No, I wouldn’t let him. I told Boris to shut it unless he wanted a hospital wide nurses strike. Guy knows better than to cross me. He just acts tough for clout.” Emma laughed, knowing her friend truly ran this place in most ways. But then the apprehension of the moment caught up to her again, and Emma’s brow furrowed in worry. “Oh no you don’t. No doubting this, Ems. I’ve vetted this guy. Run all the background, checked all the sources. He’s a good one, a one in a million, needle in a haystack, diamond in the rough kind of man. And, to top it all off, he’s crazy about you.”

“You think?” Emma asked and Ruby nodded.

“I know, but that’s all I’m saying. Let Killian speak for himself, okay? And, even though it’s hard, try and trust this.”

“I think I already do,” Emma whispered. “Trust him, I mean. But that’s crazy, right?”

“Love tends to be that way.”

“Ruby.”

“Emma,” her friend parroted, taking her hand and squeezing gently. “Just go for it. Go for it and see for yourself.”

With a nod, and the validation that she needed to hear from a trusted friend, Emma headed off. It felt natural and expected to make her way towards the center of the hospital once more. This time though, she passed the coffee cart, with only a fleeting glance. Killian wasn’t meeting her there today. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure where they were meeting. She followed the directions he’d given her, up a few more flights of stairs and through the wing with pediatric patients and newborns. She had been here many times before, for consults and comfort. It was a draw here in the hospital – the cuteness of babies just starting their journeys in the new world. Emma looked at them today, noticing the vibrancy inside the nursery, but didn’t linger. Instead, she followed the last of the route that Killian had given her and ended up somewhere she’d never been before. A place that must have just finished being renovated.

“Wow,” Emma whispered, walking into the sunlight on the open terrace.

With the glass surroundings and the plant life everywhere, this place was beautiful. There were pergolas and hanging vines, topiaries and flowering plants, daffodils and tulips, all breathing in the spring. It felt like a park, floating in the air, with the sounds of the city barely audible below. Emma could imagine the kids and the families who would come here someday. She hoped it would be a space for them to find some peace and happiness while staying in this unfamiliar and often stressful place. Hospitals were rarely any fun for patients, necessary as they may be, but this space was beautiful enough to distract from that.

“You made it, love.” The deep rumble of that familiar voice sent a shiver through Emma’s whole body. She cast a glance over her shoulder, finding Killian, leaning against the stone façade of the building behind them. In his hands were two coffees, and as he moved towards her, he offered her one with a boyish smile. “This is for you. Didn’t want you missing a routine caffeine fix for my sake.”

“Thank you,” Emma said automatically, feeling his fingers brush across hers, sending a zing of awareness through her. Her eyes flashed up to his, and she knew he felt it too. Suddenly she had no want or need for this coffee. She cleared her throat slightly before continuing on. “Where exactly are we? And how, might I ask, does the new guy know about it before I do?”

“It’s the Hubbard Family Wellness Gardens, gifted by one of the hospital’s most loyal benefactors” he said, full of knowledge. Emma was shocked that he actually knew what this place would be but then he smiled, gesturing to the plaque bearing that information. She bit back a laugh. “And as for how I found it, that’s easy. I never leave well enough alone, and I’m curious by nature. I’ve been nearly everywhere in the hospital now, but this place seemed the best for what comes next.”

“What comes next?” Emma asked, her voice hitching up as she repeated the words.

“Aye,” Killian murmured, his tone dipping sensually low. She swallowed harshly as he entered into her space, and he tracked the motion. She felt the heat of his closeness, and caught his scent in the air, clean, and male, and with a hint of spice.

“I’m afraid I didn’t think this through,” he said, close enough to kiss her. God, how she wished he would kiss her. Emma vocalized her first thought.

“Really? I did. Like a lot.”

His smirk told her she’d said that aloud even though she never meant to, but before she could react, he took hold of her cup once more.

“I meant these,” he gestured to the coffee in her hand. Oh, right. “May I, love?”

Emma nodded, and shakily let go of the cup she forgot she was holding. With deft hands, Killian  placed their drinks back on a table beside them with far more poise than she could muster at the moment. When that was done, he stepped towards her again, looking at her with a glint in his blue eyes that made her heart skip. His hands came to her body, one to her hip, the other to cup her cheek. The rightness washed over her, and so did the realization that none of her dreams could actually prepare her for real intimacy with Killian Jones.

“Last time we spoke I intended to ask you something. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from wanting this so badly. Without thinking, she wet her lips, and he caught the action, letting out a groan that mixed pain with passion and pleasure. Then he cursed, a totally British ‘bloody hell’ falling past his lips before dipping his mouth to hers and giving them both a taste of temptation.

The kiss was… beyond incredible, but Emma was so deep in it she had no ability to comprehend anything at all. She was consumed with the moment, arching against Killian, feeling the silky strands of his dark hair and the scruff of his beard. His kiss was assured and passionate, dominant and indulgent all at once. She succumbed to the sensations, and let the rightness surge within her, not caring at all that they were outside or at work or that they’d just met. Instinct took over, and her gut, which Emma had always trusted, was telling her that this man was even more than she imagined, and someone she should choose to let in.

Pulling back from the kiss, Emma and Killian stayed close, and Emma took stock of all the places they were touching. His hold on her was firm but caring, like she was precious, and he wouldn’t let her slip away. In his eyes she saw so much emotion, and again she was struck by his transparency and trust. He wasn’t shying away from her or the moment. He was in the depths of desire with her, and their kiss, that perfect, sexy as all hell kiss, had left him tongue tied. The quiet wasn’t awkward, but assuring, and Emma felt secure here, safe even, while also being filled with more unknown wonder than she’d ever been before. Like someone at the start of a glorious adventure, she took a next step born of passion and hope.

“I’m off at six tonight… so, you want to pick me up at seven thirty?” she asked, referencing a date he hadn’t actually asked her out on. She feigned ignorance even though she could read him like a book. “Unless you were going to ask me something else…”

His hold on her tightened, and he shook his head immediately. She was right. He wanted a date – and she saw no reason to wait when she wanted one just as badly. She grinned at him, loving how the tables had turned. This time he swallowed harshly, and she was oh so tempted to kiss him again and see if he’d stay shy or rise to her challenge.

“It’s a date, Swan,” he said dazedly. 

Emma hummed out her agreement, going in for one last fleeting kiss. But where she meant to only tease, he took the reins again, kissing her senseless and leaving her breathless when they finally broke apart. Only when her pager beeped with an incoming call did they end their inevitable interlude, and as they did, Emma felt a pang of longing, wishing this moment could last so much longer than this.

“Tonight, love,” he whispered, running his thumb against her lips. “Far away as it may seem, I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Good,” she replied, nipping his thumb ever so softly, and bringing the fire back in his eyes, before taking a step back. And with that, and just enough presence of mind to grab her coffee, Emma headed off, back through the hospital to the work that awaited her, knowing she could and would get through anything today for the promise of tonight.

Post-Note: Ah!! Finally!! I got the words on the page!! I did the thing!! I wrote the story!! And honestly, it’s such a relief. It felt, at some points, like I may never get this chapter written, but finally today it came. I know many of you were waiting, and I cherished every comment and review and message along the way. I hope all of you who wrote me, and those who read along with chapter one, all enjoy this installation. I write these stories for me and to brighten my world ever so slightly, but also in the hopes that they’ll spark joy for others too. In a time like this, a little joy goes an awful long way. Anyway, thank you all for reading, sending you the best, and hope you’ll join me next time for the final chapter of this CS AU! xE

[dawn-of-tomorrow]

PGR COMMANDANT Q & A

FINALLY TOOK THE TIME TO ANSWER THIS-- ssdsjdlksd

link to OG post here! (made by @punishing-gray-raven-ocs)

1) How do you feel about being a Commandant? Are you proud of your job? Terrified of failing at your job?

Higetsu: Honestly speaking, it's nothing new compared to what I went through in the past-- just that now I've become an authority figure that has to lead people. ...Truthfully, however, a little unnerving, but it has to be done, and I knew what I was getting into when I decided to become one.

Yoko: Mhhmm... it's tough, I'm not gonna lie. Sometimes I have to make decisions I personally don't like but the situation demands it, and it ends up not sitting right with me. ...That's why an occasional loophole exploitation here and there is fine in spare amounts, ain't it~?

(Higetsu: Who the hell taught you to think like that-- you know what, never mind, I'd be shooting myself in the foot if I finished that sentence. // Yoko: *giggles, does a victory pose*)

2) Why did you become Commandant in the first place? How did you become a Commandant?

Yoko: Brother and I decided to become a Commandant to honor mom's memory. It sounds kinda childish to have that as a reason to take up a career as dangerous as this, but, at least to me (though I'm sure brother shares the same sentiment as I do), mom was everything to us, so we wanted to experience what she did, see the sights she did-- all the good and bad.

Higetsu: "That person", huh... Speaking of which, the relatively-fresh flowers at that grave--... No, it's nothing. In any case, "that person" took us in as her children after finding us in the remnants of our old home, bringing us back to Babylonia, to her home and husband. Well, things went as you can see, no?

3) How do your Constructs feel about your leadership skills? Are they comfortable with you? Do they fear you?

Higetsu: There's no issues at the moment with either Strike Hawk or Gray Raven. After all, if there was any problem, either Chrome or Lucia would've told me. ...Leading isn't my strongest skill, though, and sometimes they worry me. Actually, scratch that, not sometimes, FREQUENTLY. Haaaahh.

Yoko: Hrmm~... honestly, I'm not entirely too confident with my leadership skills, and the others often say that I'm a bit too lenient when it comes to dealing with Gray Raven, but... they're still people, you know? I don't want them to get hurt too much, but they don't seem to value their own lives as much as I'd wish they do...

4) Do you think the war against the Corrupted will ever come to an end?

Yoko: It will certainly come, I know it. As long as everyone continues to fight for a future, a future where we can all live in peace, then I believe that this war will come to an end. Be it in our lifetime, or the next generation.

Higetsu: ... Honestly speaking, I'm not as optimistic as Yoko. This war has been going on for a century at this point, and we are still barely scratching the surface of our objectives; that and it would seem like a bunch of rats managed to infiltrate the higher-ups. ...In any case, while I do think that the odds are stacked against us, it doesn't mean I don't believe that, one day, this entire hell will come to an end.

5) Are you in love with anyone? What drew you to them?

Higetsu: ....No comment.

Yoko: Brother~~!! It's no fun if you don't answer a harmless question like this~~!! Or do you want me to talk about your ex-penpal--

Higetsu: I evoke my right to remain silent, and DON'T YOU DARE- LIKE I KEEP SAYING, WE WERE ONLY FRIENDS-- Don't make me not let you come to the Oasis with me next time.

Yoko: Hrrmph...! Fiiine~. In any case, I'll answer here right now. I--

Higetsu: It's Lee. We all know it, you're way too obvious in your affections for him.

Yoko: Ehehe... E-Ehem--! I-In any case~~ the things I like about Lee, gosh, there's so many I might not be able to tell everything (and it would take too long)--!

Higetsu: Then just list off the top 3 things you like about him (to shorten the exposition).

Yoko: Hmmm, top 3 things about Lee, huh.... well, for starters, I like his caring nature; it's not that obvious at first glance, but he really does care about the people around him, so much so that while he may gripe and verbally snark at others, in the end he chooses to do good by them and will protect them. Secondly, I like his focus and determination; he's a man of his word, and he doesn't make promises lightly, seeing them as something that must be upheld in sincerity-- ehe, his face whenever he's working on his tools and machinery is something I can't ever not look at. Thirdly, I like him; he's equally easily flustered and annoyed by a lot of things, but at the same time, he's also very serious and earnest in what he sets out to do; he's not honest with himself, but his actions speak for itself. ....That got long, didn't it?

Higetsu: Very much so.

Yoko: Ehe~.

6) If you had to choose between saving your squad, or saving yourself to make sure you would fight on in their honor, which would you choose?

Yoko: Both. I would save myself and my squad. I won't accept any other option; rather, if there's no other option, then I WILL force that third option in!

Higetsu: Logically speaking, both of my squads would tell me to survive and live another day, and I would agree with that. ...However, such a thing doesn't sit well with me. Even if there's only the tiniest sliver of a possibility that I could save them, no matter how reckless or dangerous it may be, then I'd save the Strike Hawks and Gray Ravens.

7) You have to make a difficult choice that will affect your squad and another squad. Which squad do you prioritize? Why?

Higetsu: We can't always save people from out of our reach, so it's best to protect the ones closest to you.

Yoko: But if there's a chance that we could help them, then--

Higetsu: ...I know. ...In the end, it's your choice to do what you think is right, Yoko.

Yoko: ...Yeah. I get it. Brother wants to protect me, Gray Raven, and Strike Hawk, even at the cost of other's lives.... that's why I wish to save the others too.

8) Who is your least favorite Construct/person to be around? Why?

Higetsu: Nanami.

Yoko: EEEHHH!??! Why?! Nanami's fun to be around!!

Higetsu: Shall I list off the reasons?

Yoko: ....Ok you have a point, but she's not at all that bad--!!

Higetsu: True, but the amount of headaches she causes us is just... haaaah.

Yoko: Ah, you're starting to sound like Watanabe. Is Brother becoming an uncle now? (laughs)

Higetsu: ...I'm leaving.

Yoko: Wait I was just kidding-- brother-- BROTHER--!!! (We're not even finished with answering the questions yet~!!)

Higetsu: Just kidding.

Yoko: Really--!! (pout)

Higetsu: (amused chuckle) What about you, Yoko?

Yoko: Eh? Me? Hmm.... I suppose... it would have to be Gabriel. It's a first that I'm saying this but, I really do hate him.

Higetsu: ... Don't worry, I can say the same thing.

9) What other Commandants would you like to meet? (a clear invitation for you to involve any of my Commandants lol, because I'm always up for interacting with others)

Yoko: I'm always happy to meet other Commandants~. It's always nice to meet your colleagues whenever, especially during off-work hours.

Higetsu: Except Vanessa though. I'd rather not deal with her again.

Yoko: Ehehe... Brother, you're making a scary face right now~. In any case, I've always wanted to meet Qiu, Ash, Xiao, Kyrie, and Noir!

Higetsu: Aaaah, them. They're interesting people, not gonna lie.

10) What will you do once the war is over? Will you miss leading your squad, or will you be happy that the war is over?

Higetsu: What will I do after the war is over? ...I haven't actually put any thought into what I would do after this is all over. What about you, Yoko?

Yoko: Hmmm... honestly, I wanna join the Association of Arts, specifically the Archaeological team! Because, you know, by then, there would be no more worry of the Punishing attacking, and we could finally be able to recover in peace the remnants of the Golden Age. I want to see it all-- what other stuff left have we not unearthed from the sands of time, what potential wonders are there left from the past. ...And of course, I wanna settle down with Lee someday too, ehe.

Higetsu: I see. You've really thought about this through, huh.

Yoko: Only a little, and just fairly recently. ...Not gonna lie, I'm gonna end up missing these days; where we're all together, even through pain and suffering, because there are still a lot of good moments to cherish.

Higetsu: But it doesn't mean that you have to cut off your connections, now does it. So long as you still value them wholeheartedly and sincerely, those bonds you hold close to you will never die out.

Yoko: Aaawww, brother, you're being finally honest~! (pokes)

Higetsu: ....Shut it. (pout)

Yoko: What about you, brother? What're you gonna do after the war ends?

Higetsu: Like I said, I don't know, since I haven't thought of it yet. ...But, I suppose quietly settling down somewhere would be nice.

Yoko: Oh, right, speaking of which-- didn't Watanabe extend an offer for us to join the Oasis? ...Don't tell me, brother is thinking--

Higetsu: No, I am not.

Yoko: But you ARE thinking about it, yes?

Higetsu: ....

Yoko: Hehe~. To be fair, the Oasis isn't so bad. The people there are really nice and warm. They really do seem to be people just trying to live and get by, helping and supporting each other.

[re-diesirae]

Chapter 2

Chris

Chris watched his sister's back as she disappeared down the corridor. Something about her overall appearance was bothering him, but he pushed the thoughts away. Claire always hated it when he hovered over her, and, considering that he hadn't seen the woman in almost three months, he didn't want to spoil their time together by annoying his sister.

"Huh, she's going to be mopping about this later," Saya sighed, "she will be feeling guilty after all this."

The comment caught Chris's attention, and the soldier turned to the Asian doctor with a quizzical look.

"Guilty? Why?" Chris asked.

"Well, it isn't like she gets a lot of friendly visitors often. I can tell she was overjoyed to have you here, but with all this mess, unfortunately, with this mess, Claire has barely been a proper host, and that will haunt her."

Chris felt a pinch of guilt at the woman's words. He knew Claire was a strong girl. Claire had always been independent, but she valued family like nothing else. She probably missed him as much as he missed her; maybe he should consider dropping by more often.

"You seem to know her well," Leon said casually, looking around the place.

"We are old friends and colleagues," Saya said, picking a notepad and scribbling something, "we have grown close after sharing so many night shifts side by side. I am not sure which of us spends more time in this building. Maybe we should start a contest on that."

"Night Shifts?" Chris asked, "She has night shifts?"

"Well, her promotion carried a lot of extra work," Saya explained, "Sometimes the amount is ridiculous, especially when the other chiefs are calling and asking for help. She's too kind to say no. Sometimes she has so much work that she just gave up going home at night. I do the same, so eventually, we ended up making each other company."

"So, she hasn't been going home?"Jill asked.

"She does, but rarely. Deep down inside, I believe she prefers it here because that way, she won't feel lonely. You know she lives alone, and sometimes when something bothers her or she wakes up from a nightmare, it is nice to have someone to chat with and have some hot chocolate."

"Nightmares?" Barry asked.

"She still has them?" Moira asked.

Chris looked at the girl, and he saw Barry put his arm protectively around his daughter.

"Yes, it has become a regular thing lately. I heard yours have become less frequent," Saya said, tilting her head.

Moira nodded and looked at her dad.

"Natalia and I used to have them for a while, too," Moira said, and Barry rubbed her back comfortingly, "but they have almost stopped completely."

"Well, that's good," Saya nodded, "unfortunately, our Claire wasn't so lucky."

"I didn't know she still had them. I mean, we all lived a nightmare on that fucking island. She should have told me. Talking it out might help."

Saya smiled and sighed.

"You know she wouldn't say a word," Saya shrugged.

"Well, why not? We went through that hell together."

Chris was the one with the answer to that.

"Because she always keeps quiet," Chris sighed, "It's been like this since she was a kid. Claire never says anything when she is having trouble with something."

"She doesn't want to worry us, probably," Leon said.

He had spoken with her a few times on the phone. She usually asked how things were doing, and when he returned the question, she merely said she was bored or lots of work. On the phone, it was hard to tell when the girl was hiding something, and the younger Redfield was proficient in that area.

Their chat was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the automatic doors opening. They had expected it to be Claire, but instead, a tall blonde man wearing a black security uniform came in, walking impatiently.

"Ok, Redfield, why did you need me? It better be for a good reason, because I've got to reboot the system, and that is not doing itself."

The blonde stopped dryly and stared at the group in confusion.

"Ok, now this is weird..." he said, turning to the Asian doctor.

"Wallace," Saya said, surprised, "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean? Red called me up here. Isn't Redfield here?"

"Well, that depends on which Redfield, kid," Barry snorted.

"What?"

The man was visibly confused, but it was Moira who cleared it up for him. She pointed at Chris lazily.

"What my dad means," Moira said, pointing at Chris, "he is Chris Redfield. I mean the Chris Redfield, you know. Claire's beloved brother?"

"Oh! Now, that makes sense. I'm Grant Wallace, Head of cybersecurity. he said, shaking Chris's hand ceremoniously, "It's an honor to meet you, at last, brother. Forgive my lack of courtesy. I am in a rush since I need to fix the crap those hackers did to my precious system. Let me be a little more specific, then, is Claire here?"

"No, she isn't here," Saya said, crossing her arms, "She left some minutes ago to find you."

"She... what? Why?"

"Why?" Saya said, indignantly, "You called her, and now you ask why?"

"What? I never called her. She was the one who asked me to come up here."

"This isn't time for jokes," Saya chastised him. "We all heard it. You said that there was something in the Command Center you wanted her to see."

"I never said..." Wallace said, "I was in command, and she told me she was having issues with the security system in the lab. She even told me to drag my lazy ass up here, or she would make me pay."

Everyone fell silent, and it was then that something clicked inside Chris's head. If the man had not called Claire, and he was there. Who was waiting for Claire at the Command Center?

"Where is the Command Center?" he said with a grave tone, "Save the talk, just answer…"

"Basement, but…"

Saya's eyes went wide, and Grant fell into realization.

"It is a trap. Someone lured Claire there," Chris said furiously.

Before anyone could react, Chris was already running out of the room, followed closely by Leon and Jill.

Everyone fell silent. It was then that a switch clicked in Chris's head.

"Where is the Command Center?" he said with a grave tone, "Save the talk, just answer…"

"Basement, but there's no one at the Command Center," Wallace said, "and you say I called her down? There's something wrong there."

Wallace's eyes widened, and he looked at Chris in shock.

"Someone lured Claire there," Chris said furiously. "It is a trap!"

Before anyone could react or say anything, Chris was making his way through the corridor, heading for the stairs. The others exchanged glances, and with no more to say, Jill and Leon ran after him.

"Claire, you better be in one piece when I get there," Chris thought out loud as he ran down the stairs, followed by Leon and Jill.

Leon was the first one to follow him as soon as they had found out that Claire was potentially in danger. They were good friends; that fact was not a secret. Both had gone through a lot during the first outbreak in Racoon City, and those kinds of events usually created everlasting bonds between people. If there was anyone as worried as Chris was, it had to be him.

The second set of footsteps were Jill's. The woman seemed worried.

"We need to hurry. I want to be wrong, but if I am not, Claire will need our help," Chris told his companions.

Claire wasn't a damsel in distress. If she had to kick some asses, she would do it without trouble. But if she got tricked down there, she would not have been able to foresee the ambush that awaited her, and the element of surprise would leave her in a disadvantageous position.

They reached the Command Center in a short time. The office door was ajar, and there was no sign of Claire anywhere. That made Chris have a bad feeling.

The trio stepped into the room cautiously. There were evident signs of a struggle: papers scattered on the ground, furniture turned over, and few bloodstains on the floor. There had been a fight, and Chris prayed with all his heart that the red liquid on the ground wasn't Claire's blood. After inspecting the place, they came to the sad conclusion that it was empty.

Chris cursed himself for being late as he watched helplessly around the empty room.

"Shit, where are you, Claire?" Chris growled.

"Chris..."

The soldier turned to Leon. The man had crouched, and he was holding something silver in his hand. Chris recognized it at once.

"That's Claire's necklace."

"It seems she got ambushed," Jill said, after looking at the scene, "No deaths, as there are no corpses, but judging by the looks, someone got beaten into a pulp."

As long as that someone wasn't his sister, it was fine. Chris could live with it.

"Three attackers," Jill said, "Male and trained. I think Claire knocked out two, but she missed the third one. They can't be too far."

"We gotta move if we want to find her, then."

Jill nodded. The group was ready to step out when Jill stopped them and brought a finger against her lips, telling them to be silent. Someone was outside the room. The trio exchanged looks and took cover to listen.

"That bitch didn't go down without a fight, huh?" an unknown male voice said, "she's feisty. I guess that is why they are interested."

"She's tougher than the other ones," a second voice said, "what do you suppose they do with them?"

"That's none of your business. Our task is to collect the subjects. The rest is up to them," the first man said. "Now, move. You don't want to be in the city when they drop those presents in the city."

"Now that's going to be a show. What do you think those guys will send this time?"

"Some of their ugly pets, probably."

Chris looked at Leon and Jill. Those last words made the hair on the back of Chris's neck stand up. They were planning an attack on the city, and if it were as bad as Chris imagined, Hughesville would soon turn into a second Lanshiang Catastrophe.

"Let's see how those stupid TerraSavers handle that," the first voice said with amusement.

The trio held their breath as the voices receded. Chris had to restrain himself from attacking the men with his fists. Those men were his best chance at finding Claire. He would make them pay, but until his sister was safe and sound, he would let them go.

"Are they planning to launch an attack here?" Jill asked, "I can't believe this."

"We should get used to this crap," Chris said with anger, "Jill, go back to Barry and the others. We need to warn the BSAA about a possible bioterrorist attack asap. We need the forces to get moving before things get out of control."

"Yes, of course," Jill nodded, "what are you going to do?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Chris said, fiercely, "I am hunting down those assholes and getting my sister back."

"Chris, don't get me wrong, but going after them all on your own..." Jill said, and Chris growled.

"If I wait, I'll lose them. I can't let that happen."

"Yes, I understand that, but you can't expect me to let you go alone."

"He won't," Leon said. "I'll go with him. I'll help him get Claire back, so you can focus on evacuating the people before this becomes another tragedy."

Jill looked at them and hesitated.

"I have Leon as my backup. I will be fine. The attack will happen soon. If we want to save as many people as we can, we need to hurry. I am sure everyone in TerraSave will help us."

Jill nodded. The woman turned on her heels and ran back through the corridor, leaving the soldier and the agent behind. Chris knew that Jill was reluctant to leave. She loved Claire, too, and the idea of the girl getting kidnapped by a bunch of terrorists didn't make her happier than it made Chris. However, duty was a duty; the woman turned on her heels and ran back through the corridor, leaving the soldier and the agent behind.

Chris turned to Leon and found the agent fidgeting with his mobile phone.

"I contacted Hunnigan and asked her to help us track down Claire's kidnappers."

"Great, that will come in handy," Chris nodded, "Did you bring any weapons?"

Leon gave him a smile of irony and showed him the holster under his jacket.

"After all these years," Leon said, "They never leave my side."

"Tch, it must be nice to have the government's permission to carry your toys," Chris scoffed, "Fair enough. Let's move, then."

The two men rushed out of the room, following the path that the two chatting men from earlier had taken. It wasn't long before Leon and Chris caught up with them. It was a group of six men wearing black suits and masks. One of them, as Chris noted, was carrying an unconscious Claire over his shoulders. The sight was enough to make the man's blood boil, and the soldier clenched his fists, ready to throw a few punches.

The eldest Redfield looked at Leon, sending him a tacit plan, and the man nodded. They pulled out their guns and shot, aiming at the legs. The first man fell to the ground. The group was confused for a moment, but they soon reacted to their attackers. Three of the closest men began to fire back while the remaining ones sneaked away with Claire. It was evident that their priority was getting her out of the building.

Chris cursed. He had no time to waste, and the men were right in the way. He looked at Leon, and the blonde nodded, raising three fingers, counting down. When the last finger was out, the two jumped out from their cover and began firing at the men. The encounter lasted a couple of minutes, and soon the three attackers laid dead on the floor.

Leon seized the chance to check the bodies.

"What's that?" Chris asked, seeing that Leon had pulled out something from one of the body's pockets.

"A badge. I recognize it. It's one of those small terrorist groups that have ties to Neo-Umbrella," Leon muttered, "I'll let Hunnigan know. Let's get Claire back before they escape."

"Roger to that," Chris nodded.

The two men made their way through the empty corridors until they reached the underground parking lot. Chris and Leon made an abrupt stop when a black van passed them at full speed and broke through the parking entrance.

Chris glared at it and ran to the guard's office. The guard was on the floor. The soldier checked his vitals and concluded that the man was dead. There was nothing that he could do, so he picked a set of keys and rushed to grab one of Terra Save's vehicles.

It took them nothing to catch up with the van, and Chris was glad that no traffic had tried to stop him for his reckless driving. He could picture his sister's lecture about it in his mind, but considering the circumstances, Chris thought that his recklessness was reasonable.

"There they are," Leon said, putting out his gun, "keep it steady. I'll try to stop them."

Chris watched Leon stretch out through the window and began shooting. His accuracy was on point, and Chris was grateful that the agent was pointing at the tires only. It was the safest way to stop the car without the risk of hurting Claire in the crossfire.

"Leon, watch up," Chris said.

Two men were coming through the van's windows with their guys aiming at them. The exchange of fire was unavoidable, and Chris had to maneuver the car the best he could to avoid the incoming fire.

"The bastards came prepared," Leon groaned, reloading his gun. "I guess this won't be easy."

"Has it ever been easy?"

"Right," Leon snorted. The blonde aimed his gun and shot the man on the left.

The bullet hit the man cleanly on his forehead, killing him instantly.

"Nice shot," Chris smirked.

Leon smirked at the compliment, but the light mood short-lasting.

A loud crash resounded in the street as one of the closest buildings collapsed right in front of them, blocking the way and forcing the black van to make a turn to dodge the flying debris. A strong inhuman roar echoed through the city, and Chris found that howl unpleasantly familiar.

"Shit," Chris groaned, pushing the door open, "not this guy again."

"Friend of yours?" asked Leon, doing the same.

"Old acquaintance."

The ogroman let out a savage howl, hitting the nearby buildings with his large hands. The men in the black van had stepped out with their cargo. Claire was still unconscious. They seemed to have forgotten about their human chasers and were only concerned with finding a way to escape the infamous creature. The ogroman, however, had other plans. It snatched a couple of the more unlucky men and broke their bones with its hand.

Their fate wasn't one Chris wished for anyone, not even those damned terrorists.

"Great, just what we need," he growled.

"I am guessing you know how to deal with this guy," Leon asked with a frown.

"Yeah, and I can tell you we are not ready for this fight."

"Why am I not surprised?" Leon sighed. His attention got momentarily diverted from the monster as he watched the men take Claire through an alley. "Chris..."

Chris followed the blonde's sight and frowned. They ran to the alley to chase the escaping group but got violently stopped by the Ogroman punching the street. Chris and Leon rolled in opposite directions, evading the hit and the flying rocks.

"Shit," Chris cursed, "Are you okay, Leon?"

"I've been better," Leon groaned, "Any ideas?"

"Yeah, you follow those assholes. I'll take care of this guy."

"Are you nuts?"

"Don't worry. I know how to deal with it," Chris replied, "I'll distract it. You get Claire."

Leon pondered their options and nodded. Chris wasn't a rookie. He was a veteran with even more experience than Leon in some things. If someone could deal with that thing, it was him. Leon took some of his extra ammunition and threw them to Chris.

"Take this. You'll need it."

"Really. Where were you hiding these, huh?"

"I've got my tricks. Be careful, Chris."

"You, too, and make sure Claire is safe, or I'll kill you myself."

Leon snorted. He gave Chris a wave and ran into the alley, leaving the soldier to face the ogroman.

Chris could only trust that the man would save his sister; then again, Leon had proved himself a competent fighter and probably was the person that worried most about Claire, after himself, of course.

"Time to do some clean-up."

[pranavthepp]

Good Boss - Bad Boss

Let me try to put it in this way, why do you think having a good mentor in life plays an important role ?

One may say a good mentor helps an individual grow professionally and personally, a good mentor always has the best interest of the mentee in the mind .... Blah Blah. Although all this may be very much true albeit what really makes a good mentor stand out from a bad one is that a good one makes you realize the value of things which you could’nt realize earlier or might have just overlooked even if noticed . You see , very few are blessed to begin their careers with a good mentor in the form of boss, and even if they do, they realize their value when their bosses change. While it is generally believed that a sizable number are blessed with their version of good boss at some point of time in their lives.

While a mentor can exist in different forms be it a colleague, friend, guardian , parent , teacher etc , your boss particularly plays a pivotal role . After all you’re spending more time of your day with your boss than your family

In above, you see I mentioned ‘their version of good boss...’The term good boss is very relative and can be as gray as it can get. A person who must’ve had miserable time with a terrible boss earlier may find even a normal well behaved boss as an epitome of a good boss. So clearly there is no particular definition of a good and a bad boss. But over years I’ve worked with more than 5 managers to whom I’ve been directly reporting to. And that somehow has helped me to develop a general understanding and draw a sketch on what makes a good boss .

1. A good boss knows your strengths and weakness or at least takes efforts to know them

2. A good boss nurtures and grooms you in a way he/she would conduct the job, essentially aiming to put you in their shoes to get a job done

3. A good boss will resolutely stand behind you

4. Relationship with a good boss can never be just professional and always has a personal touch to it

5. It is rare to find a good boss being belligerent

6. A good boss always tries to keep things amicable between his/her reportees

7. When push comes to shove , a good boss will bear the brunt for team.

8. Remember even a good boss is confined by constraints , at times just let it pass 

9. A good boss will ensure your learning curve remains high, and certainly knows that the spirit to grow needs to be rewarded. As a mentor he/she would encourage innovation and strategic thinking to give a liberty to do the things your way

10. A good boss is not just a mentor, is a leader by choice so empathize

Let me speak to you about 2 bosses in my career, who lie on the two extremities on an scale. Will help you get an idea how I had my share of a good and a bad mentors.

Boss 1: 

Used to hardly get involved in the projects/activities I was involved in. His justification to that was that he believed in the philosophy of giving his reportees their own space to work. You see , how it backfires. When some projects had reached an impasse/blockades , the boss used to take my case because up to this point the project would’ve got out of control. You may wonder , wouldn’t the boss know the status of the projects regularly. Ofcourse he did, as a matter of fact he also didn’t believe in having regular standup or project update calls and rather had requested on regular status updates on mails. You see what it does ?

It creates an imaginary wall between you and your boss which makes reaching to your boss for support very difficult even it meant he was just a call away. His schedules would be jam packed and almost found it impossible to reach out to his team. As a team , we as members of team had no visibility on projects he was working on whatsoever. Getting his time was a luxury, and even in that time we would’ve to pacify his anger because of his habits, he had a peculiar habit of not listening to others and would want to only propagate his own views. This habit of his had backfired him a lot to a point where there were MD level escalations. The language of politeness, empathy , sweetness was completely absent and that made him a horrid boss. Soon one by one team members left, I was first one to leave his team, it came at cost of my bonus but I was ready to let it go for the torture I’d to endure otherwise. One of the Best decisions of my life

Boss 2:

After moving from my previous boss which in this case was Boss 1, I was skeptic on the new would be boss. I knew I was good at my work, I am confident, had already received plenty praises from my colleagues and other team members. So I was certainly not under-confident from my former experience with Boss 1. With my Boss 2 , I’d a real mentorship experience. My Boss 2 was a lady , she was extremely confident about her work and to my personal opinion very knowledgeable , resourceful and was far sighted. But that was she as an individual, one of the first things she did after joining the team was that she scheduled a team meeting to break the ice between team members and between her and the team. She then make sure all the team members are not only clear on their own KPIs and KRAs but are aware of other team members’ as well. That essentially helped the team to understand their team’s responsibilities, a small but very effective exercise I would say. This business unit didn’t had clear roles & responsibilities as there were many grey areas. She made sure she reached out to her bosses to define those grey into black & white. She made sure her expectations from each team member is being discussed with them one on one. During any crises she backed her team like crazy when she knew her team was correct, to a point where she didn’t shy away from having tussle with her super bosses as well. Well one may debate that certainly must be making some senior management folks upset, but if one may try to see it from a leadership point , I would call that boss a level 5 leader. I always used to read textually abould leadership qualities and a level 5 leader, but after working with her I saw it.  Apart from being a great boss , she is definitely a great human being . We would have product releases at month ends and she would sit with us to do sanity tests when we would be shy of testers. I consider myself lucky to have had worked under her and given a chance to work again , would take it with a flinch. 

So when you reach to a point where you have reportees under you , try to pick the best slices from each of the good bosses you came across in life and try to curate your own template . Its certainly not going to be easy, and being a boss itself requires you to allocate a bandwidth of its own . Not going to be easy as its a part of experiential learning but surely we all will get there.

Life Update:

Got married. Moved to suburbs. Trying to be a good Husband (which btw exists only on paper :-P ) . Learning abc’s of married life daily. Grown Professionally. Moved to a Product role. Technology developments in the financial domain still amuses me so have also become an active crypto investor. Trying to keep up the pace of 1 book/month of reading. 1 Trip/month is still a thing of ours. 2/3 meets/month with Friends. The measure of happiness has certainly changed as time has passed. More focus on healthy lifestyle is actually a things in our house. Yoga and meditation is a daily practice now . Looking forward to more experiences in life.

© 2022 pranavthepp

[ieattaperecorders]

Notes on Causality - Chapter 2: Georgie and Elias

An addendum to Something's Different About You Lately. Small scenes of Jon attempting to change the future that I didn't want to put in the larger fanfic.

The events of this chapter take place around the end of Chapter 8, Stranger.

(Incidentally, the main fic will be updated very soon. I'm mainly just holding off till the finale drops, in case whatever happens makes me want to tweak anything mood-wise in what I have planned.)

Read on Ao3

- - -

One ring. Another. Then another. Maybe she wouldn't pick up, Jon thought, drumming his fingers on the desk. Maybe it would go to voicemail . . . he could hang up, try again later. Take a little time to mentally rehearse what he would say.

A click, and her voice asked, "hello?"

"Georgie . . . it's Jon Sims, from Oxford?"

"Jon? Hey, been a while! How've you been?"

"Ah – good? I've been good," he lied. "Yourself?"

"Oh, not bad. Got a new roommate since you last saw me . . . he lays around the apartment all day and won't share the rent, but he's cute so I let it slide."

"Good to hear that your landlord is cat-friendly."

"You should hear him, he has the loudest little meow. Hang on, I'll if he'll say hello . . . ."

For a moment and he heard some vague coaxing noises, distant as if she was holding her phone away from herself. They were followed by a close-up, disinterested sniff, then Georgie's voice returned.

"Ah, never mind. Not in the mood, I guess."

"I've heard the Admiral's color commentary before," he smiled. "He's in all your mailbag episodes."

"Didn't know you were a listener."

"Well, I need something for the commute . . . it might as well be the UK's most onomatopoeic source of paranormal research."

"Ha. Knew you'd hate the sound effects."

"I don't hate them. Anyway, they're . . . distinctive," he leaned back in his office chair, the nerves he'd built up slowly dissipating as they fell into the rhythm of conversation. "They're very you."

"Classic Barker." There was movement in the background, and a few soft thuds. Likely the Admiral jumping to the floor. "Well from what I hear, we're in the same field. Aren't you working for the Magnus Institute now? You must hear plenty of ghost stories there."

"That's actually sort of why I called. I think we might have a mutual colleague . . . Melanie King?"

"Yeah, she's the one who told me you were there," she said knowingly. "Sounded like you left a hell of an impression on her."

". . . Not a good one, I imagine."

Georgie made a non-committal sound, being decent enough not to rub it in by overtly agreeing with him.

"I was trying to be helpful, but I think I just came off as dismissive. Ended up arguing with her over nothing," he sighed. ". . . Classic Sims."

"Accept no substitutes," Georgie said fondly. "So, what's the call about? If you want me to try smoothing things over with her –"

"It isn't that. Did she tell you about her experience?"

"Not really. Asked a lot about Sarah – she's a sound tech I recommended to her? Got the impression she'd been unreliable. She was nice about it, Melanie that is, but really evasive. I just assumed she's caught onto something interesting and wants to be the first to report on it. The risks of being friends with competition, I suppose."

"Ah. . . ."

"Not that she has anything to worry about. Climbing fences and squatting in abandoned churches is her thing. I'm all about doing research from my computer desk with a cup of tea, personally," she paused, and he heard a distant clink of ceramic. "Hey, are we even allowed to talk about this? Isn't there some sort of confidentially thing?"

"As it turns out, privacy isn't really something this place values," he muttered, "I don't suppose she's talked to you recently?"

"No . . . not for a couple of months."

"I'm concerned. Her experience left a powerful impact on her. Now she's chasing after anything that might bring her closer to what she encountered, and I'm afraid she doesn't care about the cost. She's going into some dangerous territory. And, well . . . it's not my place to judge her emotional state. But I am worried."

"Yeah . . . I saw the memes," he heard a frown enter Georgie's voice.

"I've tried to talk to her about it, a bit. But she and I always seem to push each other's buttons somehow. I'd be grateful if you looked in on her. I think that she could use a friend right now, and –" he smirked. "I happen to know you're good with obsessive types too stubborn for their own well-being."

"Ha. You trying to set me up or something?"

"Wh–" he started, taken aback. "I mean, well, that's really your business, not mine."

". . . Wait. I was joking, but are you really?" There was utter incredulity in her voice. "Jonathan Sims, did you call me out of the blue to set me up with someone I knew before you did?"

"Of – Georgie I don't even know if you're single, don't be ridiculous," he sputtered, feeling blood rise to his face. She laughed, and the uncomfortable heat spread.

"Okay, okay," she said. "I'm just giving you a hard time."

"I just . . . " he spoke slowly, trying to be precise. "I think that Melanie needs someone else around her right now. Someone grounding. If you're not looking to take that on, I understand, of course. But for whatever it might be worth, I would be grateful if you checked in."

"I'll give her a ring," something in Georgie's voice was familiar, and profoundly comforting. "See if she wants to get coffee and talk spooky-shop."

"I think that might do her a world of good," he said with relief

"Also? We should get coffee sometime too, catch up! I want to hear all the creepy stories you're apparently so free to talk about."

"Really, it's mostly drug experiences and conspiracy theories . . . ."

"Even better, I'll get to hear you complain. Then I'll be entitled gripe to you about all the weird emails I get. It'll be perfect."

Jon wanted to say yes. He really, really did. The thought of sitting down for a few hours with Georgie and talking about nothing particularly dire was a nice one. But he could only bring trouble to her door.

"I'd . . . like that," he said, "But I don't have much time to myself right now . . . maybe after everything calms down."

". . . Sure," she sounded a little disappointed. Georgie could always tell when he was brushing her off. "Some other time. Hope you can get some rest, then."

"I'll do my best."

"And thanks for the heads-up about Melanie. Really," the smile in her voice was back. "Don't be a stranger, huh?"

"Right," he smiled back, hoping she could hear it. "Ah. Goodbye, then."

"Bye."

He stared at the screen of his phone, not sure what to name the feeling in his chest. In his mind's eye, he saw her form vanishing down a long white corridor, and he knew she would have made this choice herself, eventually. He was just respecting that. Speeding things along.

"Trying to set her up . . . honestly," he muttered.

What he'd said about Melanie needing someone to talk to had been true. He was hoping Georgie's influence could nudge her away from the path she was on, one that had its natural end in blood and pain and the drumming of war. It was hardly his fault if he knew that particular matchmaking arrangement had already worked out once.

The call had barely ended for a minute before his phone vibrated with an email notification. He opened it, frowning when he saw who it was from.

Jon,

See me in my office at your earliest convenience.

Also, in the future please remember not to make personal calls during work hours.

- Elias

It was the most direct contact he'd had with Elias in months. Aside from a few institute-wide emails, there had been nothing since their conversation about the recordings. Jon hadn't even run into him in the hall. At least on the surface, he'd stuck to his promise to involve himself less directly. Not that Jon imagined Elias was truly keeping his distance, but he had begun to get comfortable with not having to see or talk to him. He dreaded the idea of going up there and actually breaking the silence.

That comment about personal calls irked him, too. He was taunting him. Going right up to the edge of admitting he'd been watching while giving himself just a little deniability.

He could ignore it, of course. Why should he do anything Elias asked him to, however small? Why should he make any part of his life easier? But that wasn't a smart attitude, he knew. Elias was keeping his distance for now, but if he saw Jon as too troublesome things would escalate. It would be foolish to bring that moment any closer by antagonizing him over nothing.

Jon still remembered the comment he'd made when they last spoke – I'm sure one of your assistants would be up to the task. If it came down to it, Elias knew exactly whose throats to hold the knife against.

With a distinct lack of pleasure, he climbed the stairs out of the archive.

Despite his mood he smiled at Rosie, tried to seem friendly as he greeted her. The words insecure and aggressive had a tendency to turn over in his mind when he saw her lately. He was earnestly hoping to be easier to talk to, but fairly sure he just came off as awkward. At least she was friendly with him. But then, she'd always been.

She said he was expected and should go right inside.

Elias was at his desk, writing on something hidden inside a folder. He glanced up and nodded as he entered.

"Ah, Jon. Sit down, I'll just be a moment."

As he took a seat and waited, Jon couldn't quite banish the idea that the folder was just a prop. A way to make whoever he'd called in wait, to make it absolutely clear how much more valuable his time was than theirs. Or perhaps to give them time to stew, to sit in anxiety and worry. Then again, maybe Elias really did have paperwork that needed doing, and the fact that it was absolutely, positively maddening to sit there in silence and watch him was only a bonus to it all. Eventually, he finished.

"It's been a while since we've checked in, hasn't it?" he paused just long enough for Jon to wonder if he was supposed to respond, then continued. "I'd like to hear your version of how the last few months have gone. What sort of progress you feel you've made, etcetera."

Oh, God. Was he actually expecting Jon to keep up the pretense of doing actual archival work? He hadn't been prepared for that at all, and felt preemptively exhausted at the thought of coming up with some nonsense progress report.

"Well. . . as you know, Gertrude left the archives in a state of serious disorganization, so progress has been hindered by that," he tried to remember what projects he'd put the others on to keep them all going with a token show of work. "I've set aside a section for discredited statements, which has been steadily growing. I imagine . . . it will make things more efficient for researchers in the future? And, uh . . . ."

"Let me stop you there," Elias said, holding up a hand.

Please do, Jon thought, relieved he wouldn't be subjecting them both to several minutes of this. Elias leaned forward and looked at him seriously.

"Have I done something to offend you, Jon?"

The question took him by surprise, to the point where he had to bite back a sarcastic laugh. What hadn't he done? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Really. Because it seems to me that I've be extremely generous to you," that familiar tone of disapproval, of bland impatience. "I've given you a unique opportunity, allowed you free reign in setting your own priorities, and you still seem determined to resent me."

Fleetingly, Jon wondered if the elaborately decorated letter opener on the desk between them was sturdy enough to sink into Elias's chest without snapping. Not worth it, either way. Not with what it would cost.

"I . . . apologize if I've created that impression," he said evenly. "I've been told that I can be standoffish in my manner."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Elias smirked. "Though ‘standoffish' is a great deal more polite than the words people actually favor. Isn't it?"

Jon tried not to look away, tried and failed to meet Elias's eyes. Perhaps his inability to maintain eye contact with a conduit of the Beholding spoke well for his remaining humanity, but it still twisted in him. Made him feel weak.

"Are we done here?" he asked, voice tight.

Elias sighed, as if all of this was such a burden to him, as if he wasn't basking in the anxiety that Jon knew must be radiating off of him like heat.

"What was it you said to Martin . . . about discarding the facade once it stopped being useful?" That startled Jon enough to look back, to see the condescending smile on Elias's face as he continued. "Maybe you ought to do the same."

He stared, suddenly voiceless, heart pounding. This was it . . . should he be relieved or terrified?

"I've been where you are now, Jon." Elias continued. His voice was stern, with only the barest concession to false sympathy. "Trapped in a world that no longer makes sense, surrounded by malevolent forces, seeing enemies everywhere. And I can tell you that the only way to survive in this world is to recognize what resources you have."

". . . Resources."

"Yes, if you could just get past this irrational distrust you seem to have of me. I can't hold your hand through everything. But if you have questions . . . I might be able to give you some answers."

Answers? That would make a change from before, Jon thought bitterly. The Elias he remembered used misdirection, contempt and sometimes flat refusal to avoid giving Jon any information he could hope to use. Unfortunately there was only one question Jon really had for him anymore, and it was one he couldn't ask: how much do you know?

. . . Did Elias have that same question for him? It would explain why he was directly inviting him to ask about his situation.

Jon paused. He had to be smart about this. If Elias had sat him down like this before, he'd have wanted to know everything. If he didn't seem curious, it might point to how much he already knew, and that would be disastrous. But he also couldn't look too naive . . . he'd made his suspicion clear, already warned the others, he couldn't pretend to know nothing about the Institute's nature.

He tried to think back to when he was only just getting a sense of the way things truly were. What would he have most wanted to understand then?

". . . What happens to me," he asked quietly. "When I read statements? The real ones. You know what I mean. I can feel something happening, I know it's not just reading."

"The answer to that is rather complicated . . . ."

"Are you going to give it to me?"

"It would help if I understood what you already knew. How much did Gertrude tell you about the nature of this place? The Institute?"

"Enough to know I can't trust it," he glared across the desk. "And maybe the reason I don't trust you is because you're constantly peering over my shoulder."

"You must have some sense by now of the dangers the Institute attracts," Elias raised his eyebrows. "Can you really blame me for wanting to keep tabs on everything?"

"Because you ‘keeping tabs' was so helpful when I was pulled into those hallways for weeks."

"You opened the door of your own free will. I do what I can but I can hardly be expected to protect you from yourself."

"You're the reason I'm here in the first place! You've been--"

Jon cut himself off, he could feel himself beginning to shout, losing control of himself and it was stupid, so stupid. What was the point in arguing with him? Jonah Magnus knew exactly what he was doing, he wasn't going to be shamed about it.

"It doesn't matter," he said, trying to gather himself back to a neutral tone. "Can't change the past."

". . . For what it's worth, Jon, I do sympathize," Elias said, folding his hands. "Someone has to be the Archivist. You were just the best option available."

Why had he thought he could play along with this? As if he'd really be able to sit there, feign ignorance and draw information out of a man who'd been doing that exact thing to others for centuries. He wasn't going to beat him at his own game . . . far more likely he'd let something slip out of anger that would get somebody killed.

He pushed his chair back and stood, turning towards the door.

"I'll find my own answers," he said.

* * *

The door slammed shut, loud enough to echo. Jonah supposed he was going to have to get used to outbursts like these.

"I expect that you will," he muttered to the closed door.

Blind spots. He didn't like blind spots. Sometimes they were unavoidable, but having one so near to him was profoundly irritating. It was like knowing he'd forgotten something important, but being unable to dredge up any details.

He could watch Jon as easily as anyone else. Though there were moments his gaze would unfocus, and he suspected Gertrude might have taught him a few of her tricks, overall it wasn't hard to keep an eye on him. But lately, that was all he could do. No matter how he tried, he couldn't Know anything deeper than what appeared on the surface. He might as well have been following the Archivist around with a camera crew rather than channeling the overwhelming power of an Eternal and Unblinking Gaze From Which No Secrets Can Be Kept, for all the good it was doing him.

It was as if the knowledge was all there, but had been shifted somehow. Nudged just outside his field of vision.

A part of him was tempted to start over with another Archivist, one he could See more clearly. But the Web mark was hard to find, and he couldn't even be sure this anomaly was unique to Jon – that it would go away with his death instead of attaching itself to his successor. Despite its frustrating obscurity, something about it that felt like an aspect of the Beholding, though he couldn't say why.

So he'd tolerate the blind spot for now. At least Jon was easy enough to read without the Eye's assistance – the man wore his heart on his sleeve, was helpless in that way. Jonah liked that about him.

What he needed was encouragement. Something to get him out of his comfort zone – four marks was progress, but not fast enough, not with the Unknowing looming closer every day. Jonah wrote a quick note on a post-it and stuck it to the folder in front of him, then pressed a button on his intercom.

"Rosie?" he said, "I need you to run something down to the archive for me. Just drop it on Tim's desk, he'll know what it's for."

[a-ghostlight-for-roman]

how to never stop being sad

Summary: Following his brother's acceptance, Roman's life felt like it was falling apart. His family was turning against him, that awful snake was being allowed in their home, and worst of all, he still couldn't seem to do anything right, no matter how hard he tried.

How does he choose to deal with it?

Not in a good way, that's for sure.

Warnings: Gore/Death/Violence (none actually occur but it is described), food mention, cursing

AO3 link

Chapter 1

Repeat to yourself that they’re not really gone

Time has proven

That fooling yourself into believing a lie

Is the most effective way

To deal with things you have no control over

Roman was fine. Completely 100% percent, absolutely fine, and he would tolerate no thinking to the contrary. Things were abnormal, sure, but he was coping. Maybe he felt a bit (a lot) guilty for letting things in the Mindscape get so bad, but it’s okay! He’s managing! Maybe he’s surrounded by people that barely tolerate him now, but he’ll fix it!

...eventually.

Right now, though, he’s in his room. Alone, as is usual these days. Usually, he’d ask Patton or Virgil to hang out with him, but after the last video, things were… Tense, to say the least. 

Patton wasn’t mad at him, of course; he wasn’t ever truly mad at any of them. However, Roman would have to be stupid not to notice the disappointed looks Patton gave him when he thought he wasn’t looking or the way that after Roman left the room, he always made a point to talk to Janus afterwards, as if he needed special attention just for enduring Roman’s presence.

Things were a little better with Virgil, but he was frustrated with Roman for tolerating Janus’ presence at all. Despite his obvious vitriol towards him, he still outright refused to talk about what exactly Janus had ever done to him. So Roman was forced to choose between Patton, his father figure who’d never meant to do him wrong (who had acted like Roman was unreasonable for sticking to the very moral rule set that Patton had imposed on him since they were children), or Virgil, who Roman had been wrong in not listening to before, & who was obviously extremely hurt and betrayed by both Janus, and now his own family.

He still hadn’t quite been able to choose, straddling the line between adhering to Patton’s kindness policy towards Janus and respecting Virgil’s feelings. It didn’t really work-- rather, it just seemed to leave them both dissatisfied. Roman could hardly stand it.

...but it’s fine. Really. It’ll blow over eventually. He isn’t quite sure how, exactly, but things always turn out alright in the end, right? There’s always a happy ending.

Except when there isn’t, but… bad endings only happen in Remus’ stories, & he doesn’t have power here in the Mindscape.

...except he sorta does, now. After his video, he’d (albeit reluctantly) been accepted. His ideas were considered, even valued, now. Sometimes, he was even chosen over Roman. Not only by Thomas, but also by the other sides, at times; Logan may think he’s slick, but Roman’s seen him specifically request his brother’s assistance in the Imagination, in the living room, in the archives, in his room- It made Roman sick to think about, and whenever he walked through the house, he could see evidence of his brother’s influence littered throughout. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand the appeal. When had society fallen so far as to value a duke more than a prince?

---

Roman hadn’t thought he’d been in his room for long; he’d only meant to duck in to get a breather after having to endure Remus’ maniacal ramblings for nearly half an hour, but it seemed he’d been brooding long enough to attract Logan’s concern. He heard a knock at his door and broke out of his haze, looking towards it.

“I apologize for bothering you Roman, but I was wanting to inquire whether you were alright. It’s been an hour,” Logan said. Had Roman really been away for that long? No wonder Logan was checking on him.

“Yeah, Specs- Sorry. I’ll be out in a minute, just finishing a project,” he lied. Logan was so cold, calm, rational- Surely he would look down on Roman’s groveling simply because he couldn't deal with his brother for more than a few minutes. As much as Roman was full of himself and proud of his work, he thought if Logan talked down to him, he’d break down and cry.

“We’re currently 'hanging out' in the common room. You’re welcome to join whenever you finish. I look forward to hearing about what you’ve been working on.” Roman could hear his footsteps slowly grow farther from the door.

Shit. Now Logan thought he’d been working on something, so now he had to do something-- he couldn't just show up empty-handed. They’d see through his lies in an instant. He’d be just as bad as Janus, imagine what Virgil would think--

He took a steadying breath. Okay, yeah, he’d lied, but that wasn’t so awful, he just had to make it right. He just had to make something, and that shouldn’t be so hard, right? That’s his job! He’ll just think of something real quick, and it’ll be done in a jiffy, and then it won’t be a lie anymore, and on top of that, he’ll have something to talk about! Talking parts were hard to come by sometimes when you had to find something that would include the two people you hate most, your former-enemy-turned-best-friend, your dad and your colleague (as he insisted to be called), but everyone was always eager to hear his new ideas, so this would be perfect.

---

It was nothing special, but it would do. He hadn’t had the time or energy to think of a concept for a whole scripted video, so instead, he’d written the next Shoutout Sunday. Simple, but it had to be done, and it was already Friday, anyways. He closed his notebook, and stood up, keeping it under his arm. He never knew when inspiration would strike, so he tried to carry it with him whenever possible. He opened his door and stepped out from his room, making his way down the hallway past the multicolored doors of the other sides, pointedly avoiding looking at Janus’ signature black and yellow-colored door. Out of sight, out of mind.

As he walked into the commons, the conversations faltered for a moment, but everyone quickly returned to what they were doing. Remus was noticeably absent; Patton and Virgil were curled up on the couch, sharing a blanket between them and speaking in excited whispers; and Logan and Janus were speaking across the counter separating the living room and the kitchen while Logan made dinner on the stove and Janus leaned with his hands crossed under his chin. 

Roman lingered by the stairs for a moment, caught off guard by the lack of greeting, but continued to the side of the couch not occupied by Patton and Virgil. He’d hoped to share his script with Logan, but he was busy at the moment, and he so rarely was this casual with the others; Roman figured it better to let him be for the time being. He pulled his notebook from under his arm and summoned a pencil from his desk. If he couldn’t share his idea, he might as well get started on the next.

He spent around five minutes doodling a new creature to introduce into the Imagination when Logan finally seemed to notice he was there.

“Ah, Roman! Apologies, I hadn’t noticed you were here. What was the idea you were working on?” he asked. He turned off the stove and fully turned to Roman, looking past Janus. Roman was almost ashamed to say he felt a certain degree of satisfaction that Logan had put aside his conversation with Janus in favor of speaking with him. Keyword being "almost."

“Well, it is a most illustrious, melodic creation--” Roman sunk down from the living room and rose into the kitchen, laid his now open notebook on the counter, and gestured towards it with a bow-- “Behold, the newest Shoutout Sunday!” He smiled and rose from his position, bouncing on his feet a bit as Logan rested his chin on his hand, looking thoughtful, and read it. Logan gave a slight, satisfied smile.

“So you’ve worked ahead of schedule, then. Wonderful! Good work, Roman."

“I know,” Roman replied, beaming, “I shall have a new idea by the morn-- perhaps I can even start the next video script!”

“So long as you do not burn yourself out, Roman. Otherwise, I look forward to your next contribution.” Logan closed Roman’s notebook, handed it back to him, and then opened a cabinet, gathering bowls for… Whatever healthy monstrosity was in the pot on the stove. Roman could only guess what it was. Some sort of soup, maybe? “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight, Roman?”

“I’m afraid there are simply too many ideas and too little time, I must return to my work!” Roman replied. Janus narrowed his eyes at him from across the counter.

“I wouldn’t be witnessing any self-neglect right now, would I, Roman?” his voice dripped, cool and patronizing. It carried a lilt of care, but it was clearly faked-- Patton would have scolded him if he’d been listening. Roman rolled his eyes.

“No, I am simply dedicated to my craft! Creations don’t come from thin air, do they?” he replied. Logan tilted his head, brows furrowed.

“...They do,” he said. He raised his palm, and atop it, a paper appeared. “As you can clearly see, I’ve just summoned this piece of paper- Now, it’s not on par with many of your creations, of course, but I’m sure you understand my point. Just last week, you summoned me a new Rubik’s Cube. Don’t you remember?”

Virgil snorted from across the room, and Roman sighed. “Yes, Specs, I- I remember. I meant that metaphorically.”

“That was not a metaphor. According to Oxford Languages Dictionary, a metaphor is 'a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable.' Would you like an example?”

“Not now, Logan. I’ll be taking my leave-”

“Aw,” Patton interrupted, “why not stay? You’ve spent so much time up in your room- Now, I know sometimes we need our alone time, but spending some time with your famILY won’t kill ya!”

“Did someone say kill?” came Remus’ shrill, excited voice from by the lamp where he’d just appeared.

“Not that kind of kill!” Patton rushed, “there will be absolutely no killing on my watch, mister!” Remus put his hands on his hips and blew a raspberry at that, exaggeratedly pouting at him.

“You’re no fun,” he replied. “Nothing wrong with a little casual murder to pass the time! Everyone dies sometime, might as well make it exciting.” Patton grimaced as Virgil’s eyes went wide and he groaned.

“...Everyone dies sometime. We are going to die. Thomas is going to die. Death is inevitable,” Virgil mumbled shakily, though it was still quite loud once the tempest tongue kicked in. He put his hands in his hair, but before he could pull at it, Patton led his hands away.

“Now Remus, that may be true, but there’s no need to dwell on it, especially when you know it will upset Virgil,” Logan said with a strict tone.

“Oh oh, I wonder who’ll go first when Thomas dies? Think it’ll be all at once, or one by one? I vote Roman-”

“Won’t you just shut up?” Roman spoke up, voice raised. “You’re harming Virgil and you know it. Keep your ideas in your side of the Mindscape; We don’t want them here.” His fists balled up as he glared at his brother. Oh, what he’d give to be able to walk up to him, to punch him square in the jaw. He’d love to unsheathe his sword and bury it right in his fucking stomach, to watch the emotions flicker through his eyes as they slowly went glassy and he collapsed to his knees, the blade continuing up through his skin like it was paper, the blood leaking through his clothing and pooling around him on the floor-

Roman blinked hard, brows furrowed. No one had responded to him yet, because it had only been a moment. What kind of thought was that? Certainly not one becoming of a prince. Was Remus messing with him somehow? Roman knew he could project thoughts into Thomas and the others’ heads, but Roman had never experienced it himself-- Why would Remus give him an intrusive thought right now, especially one so gruesome as to include his own gory death by Roman’s hands? He didn’t look like he had done anything, but he had to have, right? Roman didn’t come up with ideas like that. He was light creativity, he was good creativity!

Patton must’ve noticed his distress, as he quickly looked between the two. “Oooookay,” he began, “Remus is being a little inconsiderate of Virgil. And that isn’t okay! But that doesn’t mean we don’t want him at all. Everyone messes up from time to time!”

“But he’s doing it on purpose!” Roman exclaimed. He gestured his arms towards Remus and waved them incredulously. “I mean, look at him! He doesn’t even care!” 

Remus didn’t respond, continuing to stand in his spot, smiling and unblinking. Janus cleared his throat, gathering their attention. 

“I’m sure Remus just loves being talked about as if he isn’t here. Regardless, it’s hardly fair to criticize him for one incident that’s a result of his function as intrusive thoughts, especially considering that you’ve shown a pattern of worse behavior over the past… What, three years?” He looked towards Logan for confirmation.

“Yes, approximately that long, although that’s a misleading usage of the information. He’s improved over time,” Logan responded.

“Only if you consider his treatment of Virgil exclusively. Regardless, you've proved my point,” Janus said, sounding satisfied. “If it took Roman three years to warm up to Virgil, why does Remus only get a few months? Not to mention that he’s just being told that he’s unwanted and to leave, you've never experienced despite your actions, and which is preposterous notwithstanding.”

Virgil finally ripped his hands from Patton and covered his ears, shutting his eyes tightly.

“Shut up shut up shut up!” he said frantically. Patton bit his lip and looked around the room.

“Listen, usually I’d encourage a healthy family discussion, but now’s really not the time to be doing this-- Roman, please go to your room. Remus, I’m not mad at you, but I’d really appreciate it if you would go ahead and leave for the night, too.”

Roman stared at Patton for a moment, mouth agape and brows furrowed. “My room- Patton, I’m not five! This isn’t even my fault-”

“Don’t argue, Roman,” Logan cut him off, “Do as Patton said. We’ll discuss this more in-depth later.”

Roman gave a loud scoff as he trudged across the room and began making his way up the stairs. He gave one last glare to Remus, who’d finally begun to move, and then continued to his room, where he fell backwards onto his bed. He closed the door with a flick of his hand, and stared at the ceiling, letting out a resigned sigh as he reminisced. Why was everything so backwards nowadays, he wondered? When had the dastardly acts of his brother become the new norm, overshadowing his own heroism and creativity?

It wasn’t as if Roman could even do anything about it, either; Patton’s decisions on what was right and wrong was like the word of law in the Mindscape. Sure, Roman could challenge his thinking, but he hardly wanted a repeat of his… Frog incident. He couldn’t bear it if he distressed him that much again. All Roman could hope for was that one day, sooner rather than later, someone would either talk some sense into him, or he’d come to the realization himself that Remus was merely a parasite to their famILY.

For now, at least, Roman could dream. 

‘Patton loves me just as much as the others. He’s a dad! Dads love all their children equally.‘

‘Even if it seems like it sometimes, no one really hates me- Well, besides Remus.’

‘...And even if they do, I can fix it.’

Even if it meant lying to himself.

[sjw-publishings]

Man-aging your time

Foreign Relations

(Asian twist on @dumb-and-jocked story, Corporate Progression)

Edgar Han was never fond of conferences, specially ones he was forced to attend due to pressure from his company. As a college intern, he gave it his all to ensure a good grade and possibly a head-start in his business.

He was wrong.

Working at Wong.Inc, the 21 year old was constantly asked and tasked with menial errands all day, filing papers and serving coffee. Now he was asked to be an usher for a conference meeting with TenHaken Corporation.

Dressed in a black polo and khaki pants, he tapped his dress shoes impatiently, being forced to come far too early and way before any of the other interns showed up. He was pretty lean, sort of lanky as he did not do sports. Long hair was tied to a ponytail, as he kept it maintained and groomed so as to not leave a bad impression.

He wondered if it was because they were aware that he and his boyfriend, two of their interns, were gay. But he seemed to be getting the shorter end of the stick...maybe cause he actually cared about his grades and future career, they ended up treating him harsher?

Nevertheless, he did have a slimmer of hope, maybe if he left a good impression today, he could maybe...

“Aren’t you going to shake hands with me?”

Standing before him was a tall, handsome daddy who was bulked up with muscle, thick biceps straining against his suit, and the most devious looking grin that screamed corporate evil...but....it was so hot.

“S...Sorry Mr TenHaken Sir!”

He extended out his hand, as the Boss of the other company grabbed it and gave it a good shook. Snapping his mind away from his worries...and distracting it with...his strong scent infused with cologne.

And those hands, those warm..., and manly hands.

“So you are one of the few interns that...?”

“Yes...alongside my boyfriend...”

He responded in a daze, entranced by the scent. Yes he may go through several hoops just to impress the higher ups, even at the expense of his relationship with his boyfriend, but he would never reveal their relationship in a workplace setting...especially considering some of the higher ups may be homophobic.

A brief wave of disgust shown in the Boss’s countenance, before he returned to grinning madly as he let go of the shake. Giving a firm pat on the young asian man’s back, he spoke in his richly, deep voice.

“Splendid, you’d be perfect...”

The man sauntered into the conference room, bringing along most of his musky aroma and thick cologne with him...but of course, leaving some behind. The young intern blinked, realising what a poor attempt of a greeting that was, and to the BOSS of the other company too!

What is he going to do?

“Did ya watch the game last night?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, a suburban looking man in a suit asked him the question, sticking out his hand with a dopey looking grin. Almost sporting a similar thickness of the cologne the Boss wore...but more mild...and friendly.

“Uh...maybe I did?”

He grabbed ahold of the other mans hand, giving a firm shake as rehearsed. He may just be an intern, and maybe he fumbled with the greeting with the Boss, but he was going to give it his all with the next few introductions.

The shake, while it was a matter of seconds, seemed to last longer in his mind, as he felt the warm spreading from the thickness of those fatherly palms, and rough wrinkles that had definitely were from the years of prime in his youth.

“What maybe I did? Of course I did!”

Of course I did? He thought, scratching his head with his other hand, which felt oddly warm as well. Mirroring the other, as those palms expanded with a former grip, sun-kissed tan bathing their digits as it spread all over their palms. Crunching the older man’s hands, as the university intern smirked.

“Of course I did!”

“Atta Boy!”

The older father figure looped his arms around him, as he...slightly reluctantly, did the same. The tan had spread down his wrists, past the forearms and to those biceps. Giving a firm masculine boost as testosterone swelled his arms, thickening like he definitely lifted a lot.

He wasn’t into sports much, but he did lift a little...especially after some pestering with Mr Craig, the really nice man from the other company. Tasked to do some stock checking and other stuff before the event, they chatted quite a bit and surprisingly had clique very well.

“So what are ya doing out here shaking hands?”

“Oh I...uh was asked to shake hands?”

“What are ya talking about? That stuff was for the interns!”

Bedgaric blinked, interns? But wasn’t he...no. He moved past that stage a couple of years ago, and thinking back, the company never asked him to go stand at the door and shake hands when he was interning in Wong.Inc.

But he felt like...he needed to do this. Setting a good example for the future interns, and hoping they don’t slack off like his lazy young boyfriend. Straightening his back, not noticing he was now about the same height as Craig.

“Its merely in my good nature...gotta reflect well on the company!”

“And that’s right why we bonded right away!”

The man beamed, feeling at ease with his colleague as they were often paired together to strengthen relationships between both companies. Despite the obvious age and ranking differences, it was clear to the company that he was fit for the job.

As his mentor-figure rubbed against his sore shoulders, his shoulder blades clacked, as it was evident that the dark tan worked its magic there. Working out and making up for those wasted years, the 28 year old definitely made gains as his back rippled against the Polo tee he wore. Strapping muscles that he could recall several men, and girls ogling after him on a daily basis. Though he was into boyfriend Conan, many others were also into him too.

“Anyways...remember that bit? TOUCHDOWN!”

“Ah yeah! Man was that CLOSE!”

Resting his strong muscular arm easily on the other man, he was really into football, though he never made the team when he was younger. Too much of a pansy back then, but Craig really manned him up like the big brother figure he is.

Often watching football during the breaks, and a couple of roughhousing with Craig and a couple of his older friends. They had a blast!

Bendgardict, being the tall and bulky asian man he is, was assigned to be on defence. Recalling the impact the football nearly hitting his core, but his strong goalkeeper-esque hands catching it...definitely something he picked up during his soccer days.

Indeed, he had played soccer a ton, he was a jock after all. Legs thickening to hard trunks, as the hot tan spread with light dusting of hair at every spot. Feet surely sprung forth, as the heavy clunking of those dark polished dress shoes now spotted his attire.

Giving a huge SWING to Craig, broad shoulders rippling beneath his attire, he crossed his arms and smirked. Clutching every football toss to his core, abdominals crunching numbers as pectorals bounced back with even more force, a defender to the core, that’s the man he was.

Standing firm and tall, his polo shirt could barely contain the rippling maturity as the sound of satisfying rips echoed his larger bod. Material shifting to a more presentable cotton, bleached white as sleeves rolled themselves neatly down his arms. Spotting on a white dress shirt with the first few buttons unbuttoned, accenting his frame like the Chad he is.

He had some hesitations displaying himself, but he shook it off, knowing if God gave him a body like this, he should use it to the fullest. God? Must be Craig’s Church influencing him quite a lot, he believed, still new to it though.

“From production manager to executive director...Eugene definitely went bonkers last night...”

“Hah! Serves him right to go against our team!”

The two of them continued chatting about work experiences, the game, and altogether men stuff. Time flew by effortlessly, alongside maturity. The Associate ranking up as they laughed heartily.

It wasn’t long until the asian man surpassed his peer in height, stopping at 6ft 2. He laughed heartily like a big brother, even though he was clearly younger...not by much, 5 years or so.

But he certainly ranked up a lot, after all, he did share similar beliefs to his higher ups and colleagues...those ‘hip’ millennials call them boomers, but their values really resonated within him. Something his...intern would not understand, with all his constant flirting in the office.

Presentability. An upper coating of expensive fabric layered over his dress shirt, as well as replacing that of his pants. Beige with faint magenta straight lines, ironing the wrinkles over his suit pants and jacket combo with a matching pocket square.

He had earned quite a handful sum after all, spending it wisely in investing in stocks and proper attire. Not like those games that millennials waste their money on.

Masculinity. This was done without question, which represented his sunbaked complexion from working out and bonding with other men in the field.

It was also without question that the ridiculous ponytail began slowly retracting upwards, with sides shaved like a real man always would, especially in sports. Combing sideways with neat dabbing of gel, as the hard crusty dusting of aftershave went all over his upper lip and strong jaw.

He was nice, but pretty jock-centred in his beliefs. Both in his faith and how a man oughta behave. Big strong and masculine, the provider of the household, man and woman.

Man and woman...?

“Will see ya and the family on church this Sunday!”

“See ya!”

His mouth instinctively responded on autopilot, as his goofy grin waved goodbye to his long time friend, colleague, and church mate. His eyes blinked momentarily in light shock, making way to the bathrooms, and quickly closing behind one of the stalls.

LOCK!

“What...what in tarnation is happening to me? Haha?”

The stresses melted away into a grin, he always had a good natured stress-free persona, even when that gay intern confessed to him when he wasn’t into such things...wait no....

He felt compelled to...what? He barely knew the intern, plus he was more into ladies...in fact, he was sure his buddy Craig mentioned something about a family right? The air conditioning neutralising his heat emitting, he quickly fished for his-

“So warm...so fatherly...”

The middle aged man tugged his breeding tool beneath his pants, letting out soft groans like he was young. Ah the younger days, so simple, when men just liked women...when men just liked women!

Blushing to himself, as he tugged ferociously, letting out loud gasps as he felt his behind tightening with a SPANK. Disciplining away any penetration like his father would if he did not excel in his studies, swelling up to a sweet bubble butt reserved for...his love one.

He was raised in a traditional household after all, strong honour and an expertise in Mandarin Chinese. Which was why he landed his position in the first place.

But of course, he thanked God for everything after coming to know him in his college days. Strictness mixed with Kindness, Honour mixed with a loving father, Mr Benedgadict Kan understood who he was, as the firm but gentle brushes against his package were too much to bear.

“Forgive me...C...C....Cindy!”

He was a faithful man wasn’t he? It feels strange to even think about such ‘millennial’ thoughts! Haha, never understood them. Thankfully his wife Cindy and him raised their children well in the lord! Speaking of her...oh man!

“Cindy...you’re so beautiful!”

Gone were the dates of a gay man, replacing by a marriage lasting over two decades. Time well spent with her, His heart pumped in love with HER! Manhood rose in length and girth at the thought of her luscious hair, and soft lips that just made the man outta him.

Man and woman

THRUST!

She is your wife, and you are her husband.

THRUST!

You are a father.

“Ooooaaaah!”

The forty eight year old asian man gave a huge holler as he let out the remains of his homosexuality in an innocent bliss, slumping back as his eyelids closed without hesitation.

Stains looped around his left ring finger as a good man stays devoted to his wife. His member remained sturdy, hard and manly, but at rest. A golden necklace materialised, symbolising the gift she got him on their anniversary.

His married hand gave a good firm pat on his pouch, instinctively putting back his tool into hiding and zipping his pants up.

Almost as if Benedict Kang never tugged his manhood by himself, only engaging in it when multiplying with his wife. He was a good faithful man after all, his new genetics beamed to reflect that as he slowly opened his beady eyes.

“Oh lordee...Where am I?”

Managing Director Kang was your all around nice boss...dad guy. Ruffling his gelled hair, he laughed as he remembered praying and thanking the lord for his successes in his company and in his life.

Prayer time was always priority. He got results done, and had more than enough time to spend time with his family as well as watch the game. It had cut close sometimes, nearly missing a business proposal due to his son’s football game in school, but he always made it in the Bened-Nick of time.

Speaking of which...

“Oh shucks! What time is it?”

He quickly fished himself up from his mediation pronto, unlocking the door and strolling down towards the door entrance of the conference meeting, he quickly glanced at his ‘IanAs’ watch.

“Just in time! The Conference meeting was about to start!”

Mr Benedict Kang flashed his most genuine grin, stress melting away from the atmosphere as his wholesome presence was made known as he jovially walked in.

“Amen to that!”

[justa-starrynite]

Choices: One

A/N: It is finally here! We have been excitedly talking about and anxiously waiting on posting our first Collaboration story together. We have been working on these for a month or so. Finally we get to share it with you all. We hope you enjoy this little adventure we’ll be taking you all on!

This is new territory for us so bear with us! For now, this page is solely for this story, but you never know what can happen down the road!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to leave a comment or shoot us a message!

Co-authors: @justahopelessssromantic & @starrynite7114

word count: 4175

tagged list: @chibsytelford @phoenixhalliwell @lady-pswrld @carlaangel86 @cocotheclown @mrsjaxtellerfan @loveandglamour26 @nakusaych9 @courtrae89 @briannab1234 @vicmackeybullshxt @gemini0410

Felipe had his gun drawn, cautiously making his way up the driveway of an old friend he knew so well. ell. Looking behind him he saw a few of his colleagues surveying the area. Seeing the footsteps and the front door that was wide open, he knew that they were too late. 

“I think we’re too late.” Felipe told his colleague. 

Quickly, they made their way up to the front door and found the place in disarray. The smell of gunpowder was still fresh in the air. 

Felipe heard the cries then. Making his way to the back of the home, he saw his former colleague and his wife, face down, their blood pooling under them. Their daughters surrounded them, crying as their parents became colder and colder.

“Mommy,” Amelia shook her mother, begging for her to wake up. “Arper, she no wakey.” 

Harper frowned, shaking her mother as well with the same result. She turned when she heard the footsteps, immediately wrapping her arms around Amelia. When she realized it was Felipe, her face scrunched up, the tears now flowing down her eyes. Felipe picked her up, his colleague, Jorge picking up Amelia. 

“It’s okay bebita, Tio Felipe is here now.” Felipe kissed her head. 

This was the reason he started anew in California, why he had to keep Angel and his newborn, Ezekiel along with his wife Marisol away from this. The cartel was hardly forgiving, and this was evidence of that. Looking at the two young toddlers in his arm and Jorge’s, he knew he had to do the same for them. 

Harper sat down by the computer in her room, letting out a sigh. Packing was a bitch. Moving from Seattle all the way down close to the border was a feat. It’s not like she couldn’t find a place in Seattle to work. Plenty of hospitals needed nurses, but she wanted to work at an underserved community and well, her recruiter found her a job in Santo Padre. Which was fate bringing the puzzle pieces together.

She’s been wanting to see Felipe, to thank him for everything he’s done for her all these years.

More importantly, she wanted to meet Angel, Felipe’s eldest son and the man who’s had her heart since she was eight years old. It was surreal how this all began over the phone and after all these years, they’ve never met face to face. 

Her adoptive father, Jorge, always spoke highly of Felipe, they used to be comrades of war. He never spoke about it often. But every once in a while, when he had enough to drink to let his inhibitions go, she could get a few things out of him.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but your parents love you dearly.” He would always tell her that, yet, he would never elaborate what happened to them. She knew they were no longer in this world and she had a sister, but from what her father told her, when he found her at an orphanage, it was only her left.

Harper remembered bits of pieces of her childhood, but at times, she felt that she blocked it out. 

Too traumatic or some shit.

Regardless, here she was, spending her last night at her parents home. Her older brothers Oliver and Dominic were having a hard time letting her go, even though they themselves no longer live in Seattle. Oliver was currently stationed in San Diego with the Navy and Dominic was in Arizona. Right now, they were in Seattle since they were going to drive down to Santo Padre with Harper. No matter her age, Harper would always be their baby sister, no amount of degrees or make up could change that.

Her parents taught her the value of hard work. 

They provided a roof over her head, gave her things that she wanted as long as they could afford it. They were never rich in the sense of materialistic things but their family was always rich with love and laughter. Jorge seemed to be a very strict man due to his military background, but he was the biggest jokester of them all. Harper’s friends growing up love coming to her home and just talking to her father, hearing his stories. Her mother, Elia, was an amazing cook and much like her father, a jokester. 

Harper felt blessed to have her family. She couldn’t even say she missed her biological parents cause she never knew them.

But she was grateful for being blessed with Jorge and Elia. Along with her two doofus older brothers.

Dominic was the eldest at thirty four years old. He was currently a manager at a bank in Phoenix, Arizona where he resides with his partner, Brandon. They were in the process of adopting a baby boy, four months old. Oliver was thirty-two years old and was currently an active member of the Navy. He currently resides in Coronado, close to base, with his fiancé, Haley. 

The three were all close growing up, the two boys taking in the toddler than their father brought him. They always wanted a sister and they got one in Harper. Blood or not, Harper was their baby and no one would ever harm her, especially not the people that killed her parents.

“Harp! Is everything packed?” She heard Dominic holler at her.

“Yes! We’ve been over this for the seventeenth time!” She yelled back. 

“Okay smartass, if you fucking forget one thing tomorrow I’m throwing your ass in the lake.” Dominic warned.

Harper laughed before she stopped and rechecked her items. She wasn’t taking everything, this would always be her home after all. The most she took were her clothes and this dresser her father had made for her, she could never truly part with it.

There was a knock on her door.

“Come in!” She called out. “Who knew you knew how to knock Dom.” 

Looking up, she found her father, a small smile gracing his lips. This has been difficult for him. He didn’t want her to move. Though the threat may no longer be there, he was still hesitant to part with his baby girl.

“All packed?” Jorge asked as he sat beside Harper on her bed. The bed where she shed tears over the first boy to break her heart. The bed where he read her endless stories about happily ever afters. The bed where he would hold her and lull her to sleep whenever she dreamt about the night her parents were slayed. The bed where he promised her that no matter what, he would always protect her.

“Yes, don’t believe Dominic, he’s just being an asshole.” Jorge gave her a look and she immediately corrected herself. “A jerk, Dom’s being a jerk.”

“You’re twenty-nine years old Harper, you’re allowed to cuss.”

“Yes well, you’ve embedded it in me that if I get that look, that means I’m not supposed to do something.” Harper gave him a sheepish smile. 

“I know.” Jorge chuckled. “I decided to come along with you and your brothers, it would be nice to see Felipe again.”

“Really?” Harper grinned. “That would be great, you two could catch up and you could ease my nerves about moving to a new place.”

“You’ll be fine mija. If there was one kid I wasn’t worried about, it was you.” 

Harper chuckled. “Thanks dad.”

She was ready for this new chapter. However nerve wracking it may be, she had a good feeling about this, that she was on the right path. 

It was the path that led her to Angel and unbeknownst to her father, her sister. 

Miguel fastened the last button of his white shirt as he walked into the dining room greeting his family. “Buenos días my beautiful familia.” He grinned looking as his two favorite women and his precious little girl. He gave his mother a kiss on the cheek then leaned over cupping his beautiful wife Amelia’s face in his hand leaning in for a soft kiss before turning to the other side and placing a sweet kiss to the top of his daughter, Marisela’s head. He then took his place at the head of the table unfolding his cloth napkin and setting it across his lap. “How was everyone’s night?” He questioned as he looked to Marisela. He had been working all night so he had not come to bed. The last thing he did before shutting himself in his office was tuck his daughter into her bed and read her favorite bedtime story. He was hoping last night was finally the night she could sleep by herself, nightmare free. The poor thing had been suffering from terrible nightmares, waking up crying in the middle of the night before finding comfort in her parent’s bed. He loved her dearly but it could only go on for so long before something had to change.

“I had ‘nother nightmare.” Marisela spoke up quietly looking up at her father with her big brown eyes. “A scary monster came and swooped me away from you and I would never see you again.” She recalled, her little eyes filling with tears. 

Miguel and Amelia’s hearts broke at the sight. They felt for their daughter and wished more than anything to be able to rid her of these fears. “You have nothing to fear mi princesa.” Miguel spoke softly to her, “Papa would never let that happen. You’re safe, surrounded by people who love and protect you.” 

“Like tio Nessy?” She asked, perking up a bit. Nestor and Marisela had a very special bond, the little girl holding a special place in his heart as well. 

“Ella,” Amelia spoke up catching her daughter’s attention. “Did you know Mama used to get terrible nightmares too when she was little like you?” Amelia had suffered from nightmares that would plague her after she was adopted. They were always so vivid and felt real but at the end of the day they were just dreams and eventually they faded with time. Hopefully it wouldn’t take Marisela’s quite as long to disappear for her. 

“You did?” Marisela asked, eyes wide. “How’d you make ‘em go away?” 

“Eventually they just did, baby.” Amelia said, giving her a comforting smile and reaching out to brush a curl behind Madisela’s ear. “Yours will too.”

Miguel watched on intently, Marisela was beautiful looking just like her mother and he thought about how lucky he was to have his family. “So,” he spoke up taking a sip of his coffee, “What are our plans for today?” 

“Well, we’ll probably just have a little girl’s day.” Amelia said buttering her toast, “Do some shopping, maybe get our nails done and then dinner at (restaurant name)?” 

“That sounds wonderful. I’ll make sure we have a reservation.” Miguel said. 

Nestor stepped into the room instantly gaining the attention of Marisela. She perked up at the sight exclaiming, "Nessy!" Nestor smiled at the little girl walking over to her as she bounced on her seat. He'd never get tired of the excitement she had every time she saw him. Looking up at him as he got closer Marisela pouted. Where the nightmares were a terrible feat for her she also knew how to use them to gain the sympathy of those already wrapped tightly around her little finger. "Had 'nother scary dream tio Nessy," She informed him, bottom lip jutting out as her eyes watered over. 

"That's no good," he said brushing the stray tear away that trailed down her cheek. 

Amelia looked to Miguel hoping she could have a moment to speak with him. The nightmares had been at the front of her mind for some time now. She hated seeing her daughter suffer through similar things to what she had growing up. She also missed having the bed to herself and husband again, the frequent addition blocking any and all intimacy between the two. 

Miguel picked up on his wife's silent signal. “Why don’t you go wash up," He suggested to his daughter, "You've got a big day planned ahead, mi princesa. You'll need to be heading out soon."

"I'll take her, Mykie." Nestor offered lifting the girl off her seat and taking her hand. "Come on now little Ella." Amelia smiled at her daughter as Nestor and Marisela walked out of the room to clean up leaving Miguel, Amelia, and Dita still sat at the dining table.

Amelia’s smile faltered as she sunk down in her seat exhausted once her daughter was out of sight. She looked to Miguel again. “We can’t keep doing this Miguel. The nightmares have to stop. Marisela is barely sleeping." She rubbed her temples between her fingers in an attempt to massage the stress away. "Maybe it would be good to seek outside help, find someone she can talk to. Someone who could help her more than us." 

Miguel grabbed her hand, stilling her movement and bringing it down to his lips for a kiss to the back of her soft skin. He held it tight giving it a squeeze as she placed her other hand on top of his “I think that’s an excellent idea, amor." He agreed. "We’ll find someone, look into it together. I promise." 

Dita sipped her tea remaining silent throughout the conversations until now. “She’s a child, they have nightmares all the time.” She spoke up waving it off, “She doesn’t need a shrink messing around in her little mind and filling it with nonsense." She set her cup down on the table looking to her daughter in law "What she needs is for you to stop letting her sleep in your bed every time she has a silly little dream. The sooner she learns she doesn't have you to fall back on she'll get over it." She said sternly. "She's a Galindo, strong like her father." Dita smiled at her son. 

Amelia gave her mother in law a tight lipped smile in return. It took everything in her to keep her calm. She and Dita did not often get along, Dita thinking Amelia belonged in the role of loving mother and doting wife nothing more and certainly not getting involved with the cartel business. What Miguel and Amelia had was a partnership though. She refused to be left in the dark. They respected each other, were a true power couple through and through. It was because of that that their marriage remained strong. 

Amelia was adopted by the Mendoza’s, another powerful cartel that was south of Sonora. Together, their marriage would unite the two powerful cartels, sparing bloodshed between the two. The Galindo’s never crossed a certain border, helping the Mendoza’s retain their power in that part of Mexico, while the Mendoza’s helped the cartel keep their territory intact. After the DOJ’s meddling, the Galindo’s were not as powerful as they used to be. The partnership, forced partnership, with the government made them look weak, leaving distaste to other cartel families. But they also understood why everything occurred the way it did. And now, Miguel Galindo was in power and it was different to his father’s reign. They were unsure of his prowess, but he has proved that he could play their game, they just didn’t know how well he could. Regardless, the Mendoza’s allied themselves with Miguel, strengthening their partnership with a marriage. If they had a marriage, a child, it would be hard to betray one another, the fallout would be far too great. 

Amelia and Miguel knew one another from when they were children, and always had polite conversations. When they were informed that they would be arranged, there was no fight from either as they knew their fates. Powerful families rarely wanted to marry outside of their class. Even though it seemed ridiculous at this time period, with all the progressive ideals that has been put forth, old habits were difficult to break. They’ve been married for 

Miguel made her a promise the night their engagement was announced.

‘I know this is not ideal Lia, but I will protect you. I promise you that no matter what happens, it will be you and me against whatever is thrown against us.’ 

And Miguel has kept that promise. He’s even gone against his mother for her.

Miguel squeezed Amelia’s hand in support as he addressed his mother. “This is between Amelia and I, Mama. Marisela is our daughter. It is our decision to decide what is best for her. Even a Galindo could use a helping hand every now and then.”

Amelia gave Miguel a grateful smile, squeezing his hand back. Dita gave them both a tight smile before leaving the two alone. Amelia didn’t hate Dita, but she didn’t particularly like her either. More often than not, Dita always inserted herself in their marriage. 

Amelia smiled as Marisela slowly awoke from her small nap during the ride over to town. She had to drop off a few things at the post office and she figured no better time than the present to see who her Pediatrician would recommend for Marisela to meet up with. Though, they most likely would go to San Diego as the choices were by far vast. 

Hearing the familiar roar of the motorcycle, she looked as two Mayans passed her by, parking across the street at Carniceria Reyes. Coco and Angel dismounted, taking off their helmets and placing it on their handles. Coco looked back, his eyes meeting Amelia’s. She managed to give him a small smile and he returned it, their past memories running through both their minds. 

What could have been.

What should have been.

“Still can’t believe she’s married to Galindo.” Angel shook his head. “Hola Amelia, come estas?” 

Amelia rolled her eyes and flicked off Angel. 

“Very nice to do in front of your kid.” Angel further teased her. 

Coco smacked Angel’s arm, shaking his head. “Leave it, you don’t want Galindo breathing down our neck because you’re fucking with his wife.” 

“You’re right.” Angel nodded his head, stepping on the sidewalk to make his way over to his father’s butcher shop. 

Coco knew that no matter how he felt, this was the best for Amelia. Like what Miguel told him the night Amelia collapsed in his arms, she was better off with him. He could get her the proper treatment for his condition and he, a nobody, could barely reap his benefits from his military service. It was one of the hardest things he had to do. A relationship that lasted less than a year had such an effect on him, still did to this day. He dreamt of her often, how she would laugh at his corny jokes, take in his words of wisdom and always compliment on how intelligent he was. Those were the most cruel dreams, they were equivalent to nightmares, since it was a taste of what he had and could never have again.

“Yo, you alright?” Angel broke him away from his thoughts. 

“Huh? Yeah, I’m good.” Coco turned away from Amelia, moving towards where Angel was. 

Much like everything else in his life, Amelia and his children, were pushed to the side, because they were better without him. He would just ruin his life, much like how he always fucked up in his. 

The club was the only family he had and it would always remain that way.

Harper walked in, the nerves in her stomach were going inside. Her father Jorge followed after her, smiling at Amelia’s excitement. He was glad that she was finally able to meet her Tio Felipe again after all these years. Ever since Marisol’s death, Felipe’s visits were sporadic at best, but Harper understood she always did. 

“Be with you in a moment,” Felipe had his back turned to them, preparing the meat he was going to place in the display case. 

“Take your time.” She responded. 

“Compadre, you’re moving slower, should we be concerned?” Jorge couldn’t help but tease Felipe.

Felipe froze and turned around. “Jorge?” He wiped his hands with his apron, taking it off as he made his way towards them. His eyes then landed on the young woman beside him and his smile even grew larger. “Harper?”

“Hello,” she shyly greeted him.

“Don’t be shy now, go hug him.” Jorge gave his daughter a slight push.

Harper walked over to Felipe, wrapping her arms around him. The warmth she felt was similar to the one she felt when her father would embrace her. The men who saved her and her sister, wherever she may be. 

“Mija, you’re so grown.” Felipe rarely smiled, but seeing Harper in front of him, even though he had seen Amelia numerous times, it was different. Harper was kept away, just to assure that the two would not be put together and hunted down. It was ironic how Amelia was now married to the family who got her parents killed in the first place. Felipe didn’t know who Amelia was going to be adopted too, he trusted a friend of his to find a good family for her, a family who would be able to afford her condition. 

And those were the Mendoza’s. 

“What are you doing here?” He questioned Harper once he pulled away. “What are you both doing here?”

“Came to help her unpacked, make sure everything is in order at her apartment.” Jorge wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

“I got a job here as an ER nurse, I’ve always wanted to serve underserved communities and my recruiter found me one here.” Harper excitedly told him. “I jumped at the opportunity as I’ve been wanting to see you and Angel as well.”

Felipe chuckled, shaking his head. His eldest son was enamored with Harper. Ever since they were younger, Angel always spoke to Harper. It was odd that they became as close as they’ve been, but Felipe was thankful. He felt that he failed Angel, that he didn’t give him the love that he deserved. He would make it up to Angel eventually, but he was glad Harper was here now, just so the two could finally meet face to face. Every time they would try and meet, it was never the right time. It was upsetting to say the least, but Angel always pushed through. 

“Angel has been looking forward to meeting you for so long, I’m sure it would make him immensely happy to see you.” Felipe chuckled. “Have you two eaten? Let’s go grab some food and bring it back here.”

Felipe went to the back to lock up and change, Jorge following after him. Harper stood by the counter, checking her phone. The bell rang, indicating someone walked in. She looked up and found two men, one taller than the other, wearing leather vests. Giving them a small smile, Harper’s attention went back to her phone.

Angel studied the young woman before him, his eyebrows furrowing. “Amelia, weren’t you just outside?”

Harper looked at the man behind her and gave him a confused look. “Amelia? My name is Harper.”

Angel froze. 

Harper.

He knew that voice. 

It was her voice. 

Angel didn’t know how he could feel so strongly about someone he never met. He’s always felt at ease with Harper. He could even say that he loves her. She’s been his best friend, his confidant for years. And to have her in front of him, he was in disbelief. 

“Is it really you?” Angel studied her face, she looked just like Amelia, but she just looked different, seemed different. The smile on her face was brighter, more genuine. Her hair was burgundy stuck out to him. He remembered when she was nervous about coloring her hair and she looked beautiful. The half sleeve tattoo on her arm caught his eye, a sleeve she had shown him before. 

God, she was gorgeous.

“Want to pick up your mouth bro, it’s kind of embarrassing.” Coco couldn’t help but tease Angel. Though it was eerie how much she looked like Amelia. “Fuck, I owe Gilly money.” Coco took his phone out, preparing to text their third musketeer. 

And the fact she wasn’t a dude really surprised Coco.

His voice registered to Harper then. Her mouth dropped open before she shrieked and ran over to him, jumping in his arms. Angel’s arms immediately wrapped around her. 

“Angel!” Harper buried her face at the crook of his neck. 

“Fuck, you are real.” Angel couldn’t even explain how overjoyed he was to finally have Harper in his arms. He always thought that maybe life was playing a cruel trick on him and he was being fucking catfished, especially since she would never show him pictures of herself. She reasoned that her parents wouldn’t allow it, that people were looking for her and his father explained the same thing to him. Angel never pushed it, which was surprising for him, but he knew it must have been something if even his father and mother advised that it would be best to wait to see Harper

[flamencodiva]

Getting Back To You 8 - Just Sit There and Look Pretty

Description: Amaya Campos and Dean Winchester had a playful rivalry. what happens when Dean is no longer her Dean. Will this change make one of them realize what they really desire, or will they continue to keep secrets?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Amaya Campos (Original Female Character) , AU Dean Winchester x AU Amaya Campos

Warnings: Language, Violence, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Word Count For Series: 100K+ words

Beta: @superfanficnatural​ and @emoryhemsworth​​​ and @jensengirl83​​

Book Cover by @talesmaniac89​

A/N: Special thanks to - @crashdevlin​ @atc74​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @winchest09​ @waywardbeanie​ @deanwanddamons​ @malfoysqueen14​  @emoryhemsworth​ @janicho88​ @jensengirl83​ @whatareyousearchingfordean​ @katehuntington​ @anathewierdo​  and to all my friends who listen to me ramble about my writing. your words of encouragement mean the world to me! Without you I don’t think I could have found the courage to come back and share what I love most to do, WRITE.

Getting Back To You Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Checking herself out in the mirror, Amaya couldn’t help but smile. She had decided to go with her slightly ripped jeans, a long sleeve Sabrina style crop top shirt, and her high heeled timberland boots. She decided to leave her hair loose and flowing. It had been a while since she could relax that way. Grabbing her black clutch, she made sure she had the right weapons that would fit in it. Nothing too big, but deadly enough to kill a monster if she needed to. With one last look, she applied a quick thin layer of makeup and made her way towards the garage. 

Dean sat with Sam in the kitchen of the bunker. He watched as the familiar figure walked by the door and rushed to see Amaya. 

“You heading out?” He asked casually. Or at least as casually as he could. 

“Yeah,” Amaya said as she turned and bit her lip. “I’ll probably be out late, but I’ll send Sam a signal if anything comes up. Don’t wait up.” 

She made it out to the garage before Dean could ask any more questions. Looking at Sam, he watched as the tall hunter pulled out his laptop and began typing. 

“You’re tracking her phone?” Dean smiled. 

“Yup,” Sam said as he popped the ‘p’. “And it looks like they’re headed for an Italian place in town. Or at least she is on her bike.” 

“She rides a motorcycle?” Dean asked as he raised an eyebrow at Sam. 

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled. “Ever since we met her, she’s been riding one.” 

“My Amaya only rides one when she has a solo hunt. She used to do it before they stuck us together for assignments.” Dean remembered fondly. 

“Good to know that there are similarities there,” Sam said as he got up from the bench seat. “You know, there is a part of you that’s not all that different from my brother.” 

“How so?” Dean looked down at the clothes he was wearing. 

He wasn’t used to the jeans and multiple layers of shirts and flannel. He felt out of place not being dressed in a suit. 

“Dean… I told you how we had a hard life here. Mom died, killed by a yellow-eyed demon.” Sam reminded him. 

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. 

“Okay, well,” Sam cleared his throat. “He likes to have this hard, mean exterior to him. And, he thinks that people don’t notice, but I notice when he cares.”

“He says otherwise,” Dean nodded. 

Sam smiled. “You got it. He always puts on this hard face, and he'll be gruff and serious. But then he’ll look at the person we are saving, and he will do everything in his power to save them. He’ll offer them words of encouragement when he thinks I'm not listening. My brother...he is one of the most kind-hearted people I know. He would move mountains if it meant people surviving and Heaven and Earth to make sure the people he loved are okay. I should know,” Sam said as he looked down at the floor in shame. “Sometimes, I forget that he sacrifices a lot, especially for just me.”

“You guys have been through a lot,” Dean looked around the empty bunker. “I’m sorry you guys had to live through that without the proper support.” 

“We survived,” Sam shrugged with a soft smile. “And we just keep fighting.” 

“As hunters, it’s a good motto to have,” Dean assured him. “Now, let’s go chase after Amaya and make sure that she is single for when your idiot brother gets back.” 

“You can say that again,” Sam chuckled. “He is stubborn. But so is she.” 

“I noticed,” Dean followed Sam to the garage and froze. 

He slowly walked up to the black Chevy Impala. She looked to be in pristine condition, which was surprising. He didn’t think that they would keep a car like Baby, but if what Sam told him was anything to take into account, the car itself held sentimental value. Dean could tell that this world’s version of him took good care of the old car. 

“Dean is really good at fixing her up,” Sam smiled. “I sometimes wish he would have come with me when I left for college and worked in what he wanted.” 

“He never went?” Dean looked at Sam. “Did he graduate high school?” 

With a shake of his head, Sam walked up to Baby and ran his fingers over the shiny car. 

“He uh,” He cleared his throat. “He dropped out to help dad and got his GED. Always said it was good enough and that he wasn’t worth anything else.” Sam huffed. “I should have encouraged him more, but…” Sam trailed off before snapping back from his own thoughts. “Let’s follow Amaya. We need to make sure my idiot brother can stop being stubborn long enough to grab the girl when he comes back.” 

Dean couldn’t help but smile at that. He had to think about his own Amaya and wondered if his counterpart would try and help him as much as he was willing to help.   

Amaya sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror. She hated going to these stuffy events. It was worse, though, that Dean was in another universe and in his place was a low brow podunk hunter. She looked over herself and sighed. The dress was fitting too tight for her liking, but it still just fit. Her H-shape halter strap dress was one she always wore to events where both Henry Winchester and Samuel Campbell would be present. This was more of a family gathering than an event, really. Once a month, they would gather and talk, but now, she felt out of place. She wasn’t going to be a part of the family anymore. 

Dean flipped through the channels of the TV in the living room. He sat up and stared at Amaya as she walked out and fixed her earrings. His eyes roamed up her legs, taking in how the dress fit her nicely, hugging her in all the right places. Her hair pinned up in a tight French twist. His throat suddenly felt dry as he watched the double of the girl he loved grab a shawl. 

“Where are you off to?” He said when he finally found his voice.

“Family dinner at Girard’s,” Amaya grumbled as she took one last look at herself in the mirror before grabbing her clutch bag and keys. “Don’t burn my house down and make sure that Zeppelin goes out to do his business.”  

“Shouldn’t I--” Dean began before Amaya held out her hand to stop him. 

“Going to stop you right there.” She growled. “You are not going to do anything while you are here except stay out of our way and stay inside this apartment.” She walked up to him and poked him on his chest. “You are not this world’s Dean and trust me, and I wouldn’t want him at that dinner anyways with the announcement I’m going to make, so please spare me.”

“Amaya,” Dean sighed. “I don’t like this situation any more than you do.” he gently grabbed her hand. “So whatever you and the other me have going on… that’s between the two of you.” He acknowledges, trying to get her to meet his gaze. “I can help you out here. If you really are done with my double, I can help you make it a smooth break.” 

“Why?” Amaya huffed as she crossed her arms. “Why would you help me?” 

“Because you clearly don’t want to be in a relationship with the other version of me,” Dean pointed out.  

Amaya swallowed the lump in her throat at his words. It was strange for it to be coming from the double of the man she loved. It was his voice, his eyes, his broad shoulders, but it wasn’t him. Closing her eyes, she thought back to everything that had transpired. 

“It’s not that--” she hesitated. Why should she tell this look alike her troubles? What could he do? 

“It’s not that, what?” Dean pressed. “You either love him, or you don’t. Why else would you be running to London?” 

“How do you know that?” Amaya gasped, her eyes wide with fear. This man could ruin everything for her. How could he know what she was planning? 

“I overheard your conversation. It was with a guy named Ketch?” He questioned and was unsure of what to make of her expression.  

Amaya scoffed, “Ketch has been nothing but a valuable and loyal colleague.” she defended, making her way to the kitchen for a glass of water. “I don’t know how things are done in your world, but here,” she gestured around them. “Here, monsters know their place and they are all but eradicated.” 

Dean frowned, he didn’t know a guy named Ketch,  and who the fuck names their kid Ketch anyways? If this was anything to go by, it could have been a good thing or a bad thing, but either way, he hated the thought of his own Amaya doing anything with ‘Ketch’. Any guy for that matter. Wait… why the fuck would he care if Amaya was with someone else? She would be safer and definitely out of harm’s way.  

“Eradicated? You mean, they are almost wiped out?” Dean questioned. This was something he would have never thought possible. 

“Well, when you have a network of operatives like we do,” Amaya went on to explain. “It’s easy to try and keep the monsters at bay.” 

“Well, you don’t want to be late, do you?” Dean raised an eyebrow at her as he looked at the time. “I’m sure you have a way to talk to my double’s family about what is going on.” 

Amaya tilted her head at him, “What are you up to?”

Dean raised his hand innocently, “Nothing. I swear. I just don’t want to take too much of your time.”    

Amaya glared at him before letting out a soft hum, “alright, just remember what I said don’t--” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean interrupted. “Don’t burn the house down and make sure the mutt does his business outside.” 

“Right,” Amaya drawled. “I shouldn’t be back too late.” 

“Okay,” Dean said as he casually walked back to the couch to sit. 

Amaya eyed him cautiously before walking out the door. Dean made sure to wait until he could hear the car drive off in the distance. Walking to the phone, he smiled when he saw a number and Sam’s name next to it. Picking it up, he dialed the number and waited for someone to answer. 

“Amaya?” Sam’s answered. 

“No, it’s roughneck,” Dean huffed. “I need your help. Have you left for Girard’s yet?” 

“Why?” Sam demanded. 

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, “I want to help your brother with Amaya. Even if one of us is happy,” Dean chuckled. “I think I can be okay with that.” 

Sam let out a sigh, “what do you need from me?” 

Sam and Dean sat in the Impala as they watched Amaya get off her bike. The boys watched as she adjusted her clothes, fixed her hair, and checked her make-up before walking inside. 

“Do we go inside?” Sam asked as he looked over at Dean. 

“Huh?” Dean snapped out of his thoughts. 

Most of what was running through his head was about his Amaya. Was she safe? Did she meet his alternate self? Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before looking at the man who was his brother’s double. 

“I’m okay for the most part,” He admitted. “I just can’t imagine this Amaya not being happy with your brother.” He scoffed slightly. “From what you’ve told me, you have had a hard life, sure… but that shouldn’t stop you both from being happy.”          

“It’s--” Sam shook his head as he took in a small breath. “It’s been hard, and… I know Dean loves Amaya, he does, and I don’t want him to regret not having her when he can have her.” 

“I understand,” Dean muttered. “Let’s get in there and try to stay hidden for a bit. Tail them lightly.” Dean strategized. 

“Sounds good,” Sam agreed as he moved to leave the car. 

“Sam?” Dean breathed. 

“Yeah, Dean?” 

“Thanks for helping me with this,” Dean whispered. “I know you shouldn’t, and you don’t really know me but… I don’t want anything bad to happen to Amaya, in any universe. And if helping your brother realize that she’s good for him is what I have to do, then so be it.” 

Sam smiled at Dean’s admission, “Thanks. I know how stubborn they both can be. So let’s get in there and make sure she and Jason stay friends.”

“Okay,” Dean breathed. “Let’s do this.” 

Sam smiled as Dean got out of the car, and both men made their way into the restaurant. For Lebanon being a small town, the restaurant was full. Sam tapped Dean on his shoulder and pointed to a small corner of the restaurant where the familiar brown hair with purple highlights shone. It was still strange to Dean to see Amaya with such a color in her hair. His Amaya was trained to be proper and ready for anything.  

Dean followed Sam, who had asked for a table, and sat in a booth they were shown too. The booth was not too close, but not too far from where Amaya and Jason were sitting. Dean couldn’t help but frown at how easily Amaya laughed. It made his heart ache for his Amaya, to hear her laugh, to see her smile, to kiss her lips.

‘It’s over’ Amaya’s voice echoed in his head. 

Taking in a shaky breath, he knew he had to find a way to have Amaya be available for this world’s Dean. In some way, he hoped that the other Dean was realizing that Amaya was worth having in his life. Was worth loving and fighting for. 

“Dean?” Sam called to him. “Dean?” He waved his hand in front of Dean. 

“Yeah?” Dean snapped out of his thoughts. 

“You sure you want to do this?” Sam asked. 

“Yes,” Dean breathed. “I lost my Amaya, and when I get back, I need to fight for her. So I need to find a way for your Dean to have a chance.” 

 “What if this is what the witches want?” Sam wondered. “What if they wanted to get My Dean to never be with Amaya?” 

“Why?” Dean tilted his head as he asked. “That would mean there is an important connection. I mean why care if--” his eyes widened. “You don’t suppose that they think that your Dean and this Amaya are soulmates do you?”  

Sam opened and closed his mouth as he thought about it, “I never thought about it like that. I thought they were targeting Dean because we had been knocking out their network for a while now.” Sam ran a hand across his face. “I might need to look at the spell they cast. They also may have given Dean something to drink.”

“What makes you say that?” Dean asked as he leaned in and folded his hands on the table.  

“I was knocked out for a while, but when I came to, I noticed Dean was out of it,” Sam explained. “I noticed his lips had some sort of residue.” 

Dean let out a soft hum, “I noticed a small after taste in a whiskey I was drinking. In our Universe, witches can hide very cleverly. They know we can track them quickly.” He leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. “We need to figure out what kind of ritual they performed.”  

“Guess when we get back, we can look through the books,” Sam suggested. 

“Yeah, that’s--” Dean froze when They saw someone familiar walking their way. 

“¿Qué demonios están haciendo aquí?” Amaya growled as she crossed her arms. (What in the goddamn hell are you guys doing here?) 

“Puedo explicarlo,” Dean began as he slid out from the booth and stood up. (I can explain). 

“¿Oh? por favor dime cómo tú y Sam me están siguiendo?” Amaya growled. (Oh? please tell how you and Sam are following me?)

“Look, Sam was showing me around,” Dean argued. “I mean, what better way to get the brain stimulated to think than to be--”

“Dean!” A male voice interrupted them. 

“Hey, Jason,” Dean said as he gave the man a thin lined smile. 

He looked exactly like the Jason he knew in his world. The Jason who was Ben’s real father. At least in his world, he wasn’t sure about this one. Jason rocked on his heels as he looked between Amaya and Dean. He could feel a small bit of tension between them. 

“You guys taking a break from something?” Jason asked casually trying to ease the discomfort he was feeling. 

“No,” Dean replied as Amaya answered, “Yes.”  

Dean and Amaya glared at one another. 

“Dean and Sam came to have a nice meal, and then they have to go back to researching,” Amaya clarified. 

“Actually,” Dean gave a small chuckle. “We are going to call it a night. I need a good drink and--” 

“We’re headed to the local watering hole if you want to join us,” Jason said. 

Amaya let out a groan. “Jason, are you sure? I mean I’m sure they’re tired.” Amaya sent Sam a pleading look. 

“I haven’t had a nice night out in a while.” Sam ponders. “I mean, if I don't use it, I will lose it, right, Amaya?” He gave her a smug grin. 

Amaya closed her eyes, as it was a losing battle. The teasing she and Dean did before this whole mess happened came back to bite her in the ass. Sam was sure that if looks could kill, he would already be dead. But he couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he was helping Amaya and Dean out in the long run. 

“I guess when you guys are done, you can join us at Spurs,” Amaya drawled and turned to Jason. “I’m going to grab my bike,” She rubbed at her forehead, letting out a small sigh. “Jason, I’ll meet you at Spurs,” she opened her clutch to look for her keys and walked out of the restaurant. 

“How long has it been since we last hung out?” Dean stated casually. 

“It’s been a while, haven’t seen you since that Wendigo hit up Yosemite.” Jason stated. 

This gave Dean a few clues. “Right, good thing I saved your ass.” Digging in to his memory of Sam’s clues of this world’s Dean being slightly arrogant. 

Jason let out a laugh, “Dude, I saved your ass. If it weren’t for me, you would have been hanging in that cave as a feast for the monster.” 

“No, I clearly remember having to light the bitch on fire and saving YOU from being its winter feast.” Dean said as he gave Jason a gentle slap on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s head to Spurs. Don’t want Maya to get too much of a head start, right?” 

Dean rushed out before he could mess up anything. Sam hot on his heels. When both men reached the Impala they breathed a sigh of relief. 

“You might need to fill me in on what happened on that hunt,” Dean said as he started the car.  

“Yeah,” Sam agreed. “I can start from the beginning.” 

In the alternate world, Dean paced in the living room, waiting for Sam to arrive. He helped himself to a glass of whiskey while he waited. It also gave him a chance to explore the house and look at everything inside. All the pictures that decorated the walls made his heart ache. He missed his Amaya. The way she was always able to calm him after a nightmare, the way she flirted, hell, he missed the feel of her lips on his. 

He started to kick himself mentally for what he said to her. He could have told her a different way, could have not been a dick. But what was done was done. He made a mental note to try and fix things with her. The knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. He smiled when Sam stood there, garment bag and shoes in hand. 

“Anything bad happens,” Sam said as he pushed past Dean. “I blame you completely.” 

“Yeah yeah, Bitch,” Dean sighed. 

“Why did you call me a bitch?” Sam huffed crossing his arms. 

“Sorry,” Dean muttered. “It’s something my brother and I do. He calls me Jerk, and I call him Bitch.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. He missed his brother. The guy in front of him looked like his brother, but he was far from being Sam. 

Sam nodded at the explanation, “I can see that. You are a bit of a Jerk.” Sam chuckled hoping to make Dean feel better. 

“Bitch,” Dean muttered automatically. “Thanks,” he said when he realized what Sam had done. “Okay, you brought the suit?” 

“Yup,” Sam pointed to it in the garment bag. “But, I am going to have to drill you on what to expect at this dinner.” 

“I figured as much.” Dean sighed as he opened up the garment bag to look at the suit. 

He let out a small whistle. The suit was nothing to scoff at. It was a tailored black three-piece suit complete with matching tie. Taking the garment bag, Dean made his way to the bathroom to shower and change. Sam looked around the apartment. It was strange being inside it with a man who looked like his brother, sounded like his brother, but was not his brother. The pictures around the room only made him cement the idea of bringing his brother back, even if it meant working with his counterpart.  

Sam watched as Dean came out of the bathroom and stood a bit straighter. If he hadn't known any better, he would say his brother never left. But then again, looking the part and playing the part are two very different things. 

“What?” Dean huffed as he looked around himself. “Am I missing something?” 

“No,” Sam sighed as she ran his fingers through his hair. “You look fine. Now on the way there, I’ll give you some information. Think of this as another ‘case’ if you will.” Sam suggested as he grabbed the keys. “I will feed you the information, and you will only answer if you are directly spoken to. If you mess up, we’ll just play it off as something having gone wrong on your mission.” 

“Still can’t get over the fact that you guys call cases, missions.” Dean scoffed. “I mean, you guys make it sound like you’re spies or something.” 

Sam let out a chuckle, “I guess that’s one way to put it.” He was walking to his car when he noticed Dean stop in his tracks. “What?” 

“You drive a charger?” Dean pointed to the car. 

“Yeah,” Sam acknowledged. “I mean, I’m not like Amaya and my brother who have two separate cars. One for hunting, although Amaya prefers her bike when she hunts alone. And the other car for everyday things.” 

“So, you don’t drive a  ‘67 Chevy Impala?” Dean inquired. His shoulders slumped at the thought of not being able to drive his baby.  

“Oh we have an Impala,” Sam said as he began driving towards the restaurant. 

“You do?” Dean shifted in his seat and looked at Sam. “So then why aren’t you driving her?”   

“She’s a special car. Dean takes care of her, and he only uses her for missions.” Sam explained. “Besides… he added some features that are only to be used on missions and not everyday outings. That’s what he has his more modern Impala for.” 

“And why didn't I know that he had a more ‘modern’ Impala?” Dean sneered. “I could be driving us to --” 

“You are not touching the cars!” Sam snapped as he stopped at a red light. “Let’s get this straight. You are nothing more than a visitor here, understand? And I will be damned if I let you touch anything that belongs to my brother.” 

Dean let out a chuckle, “You assholes really think that highly of yourselves here.” He ran a hand across his face. “I know how to take care of cars! For fucks sake I’ve had to rebuild Baby from the ground up a few times.” 

Sam cleared his throat as he continued the drive. It wasn't long before he drove up to the valet and both men made their way inside. 

“There you are!” 

Sam and Dean turned to see an older woman walking towards them.  

“Forgive us Grandma Millie,” Sam leaned in and gave her a kiss on her cheek. “Dean had a small incident on his mission and we were just going through the debrief.” 

Millie turned her eyes to Dean, “Are you alright? Does this have anything to do with the incident at the school?” 

“No,” Dean looked at Sam who mouthed ‘mamaw’. “Mamaw!” Dean smiled. “Just got my head knocked around that’s all.” He hugged her tightly and closed his eyes. 

It was strange seeing family members for the first time. Strange to hug them and pretend they had any form of relationship. He froze when he saw Samuel Campbell walking up to them. 

“Boys!” He pulled both Sam and Dean into a tight hug. “The best of the Winchester and Campbell clan!” 

Sam let out a laugh as he gave Samuel a pat on his back. Dean on the other hand froze. The man who betrayed them, the man who sold them out to Crowley, hugging them and saying he was proud. 

“Dean?” Samuel’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You okay, son?” 

“Yeah,” Dean snapped out of it when Sam punched him lightly on his leg. “Sorry, my head’s still jumbled.” 

“I have never known you to get all jumbled like that?” Samule’s eyes roamed over Dean. He seemed to be checking for anything else. “Must have been some mission. Was it the same witches that have been giving us trouble?” 

“That’s what it looks like Pops,” Sam interjected with a smile. “We need to say hi to Nana Deana, Mom, and Dad. So if you could excuse us.” Sam pulled Dean away as they made their way deeper inside. 

The Campbell-Winchesters had rented out the restaurant for the whole night. Dean was maneuvered around the room, having to give the same story over and over. It was tiring. Dean wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Excusing himself, he made his way to the bar and ran a hand across his face. 

“Whiskey, double on the rocks,” he ordered with a sigh. 

“Son?” 

Dean’s body froze at the familiar rumble of the deep voice. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before turning to face the man that the familiar voice belonged to. 

“Hey, Dad,” Dean let out as he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“You okay son?” John said, placing a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “I know you’ve been saying that the mission really knocked you out… but I know you’re made of stronger stuff than that.” John shifted to stand beside Dean as he ordered himself the same drink his son had ordered. 

“Yeah,” Dean assured him. “I’m just… everything has been kind of spiraling.” 

John took in a deep breath as his son’s words sank in. “I know it can’t be easy trying to get Amaya back. But son… kissing Lisa Braden? You know better than that.” 

“I know,” Dean whispered. “I was… it… it was a momentary lapse of judgement.” Dean repeated what Sam had told him to say. “Sam thinks it was something the witches could have done. Seeing that Lisa said she felt like she was under a spell.” 

John let out a soft hum and nodded. “I can’t say I disagree with your brother.”  

Dean let out a huff with a smile, “Yeah, Sam is smart about those things.” He took a sip of his drink and smacked his lips together. 

“You okay son?” John turned to face him. “I know that what happened with Amaya wasn’t ideal but I know you can win her back.” 

“I--” Dean froze for a bit. He closed his eyes composing himself. “I can try.” He said after finding his voice. “But you know how stubborn she is.” 

John let out a chuckle, “That she is, son. But you are just as stubborn as she is. It’ll be okay.” 

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” a voice called from behind them. 

 Dean's back straightened at the sound of the voice. He turned slowly to come face to face with Amaya. Clearing his throat, Dean gave her his best smile. 

"I was wondering when you were going to join us for a drink," Dean said as casually as possible. 

Amaya plastered a smile on her face, "I was talking to some of our London associates." 

John seemed to tilt his head at that. "Everything okay?" 

"Everything will be talked about when we sit for dinner John." Amaya reassured him before turning her attention to Dean. "I thought you were going to rest?" 

“Oh a quick nap and I was feeling great,” Dean said as he smiled at her. “Sam was on his way and he swung by to pick me up.” he lifted his glass and nodded to Sam who made his way towards them. 

“Really?” Amaya looked over at Sam and raised an eyebrow at Sam. “John would you excuse us? I need to talk to your sons.” 

“Of course,” John agreed. He walked away from the trio. 

As soon as John stepped away, Amaya grabbed Sam and Dean by their arms and dragged them out to the terrace. 

“What in the hell do you think you are doing bringing this… this.. Jackass here to pretend to be Dean!?” 

“I am Dean!” Dean whined. 

“Not OUR Dean,” Amaya growled. “You should have stayed back at the apartment and you,” she turned to Sam, “Should not be encouraging this.” 

“If he doesn’t make an appearance, they will be suspicious,” Sam said cooly as he grabbed his glasses from his case and put them on. “Besides, this way, there can be a clean break since you are determined to not marry Dean anyways.” 

“I am not marrying Dean,” Amaya acknowledged. “But more because I don’t think he ever really wanted to. Four years Sam, we were engaged for four years. We could have married anytime after any of the incidents that plagued us. But we kept putting it off. Lisa was just the tip of the iceberg, with or without the witches interference.”  

“You don’t really believe that, do you Amaya?” Sam argued. 

Dean watched the interaction between the two of them. There was something hidden in Amaya’s demeanor that made the hunter curious as to why she was really pushing this world’s version of himself away. He tilted his head for a moment as she bit her lip. 

“Sam…” Amaya’s voice broke. 

“Amaya I have seen you and my brother love each other since you first showed up at the academy.” Sam walked up to her and tilted his head, “What aren’t you telling me Maya?” 

“I can’t have children,” she whispered. 

Dean could see her turn her head away in shame looking out into the night sky.

“What?” Sam breathed. “Maya, are you sure? I mean… did you--” 

“Eileen told me after she checked me out when Hecate attacked.” Amaya’s voice broke as she spoke.   

“What if she was wrong?” Sam inquired. “What if it’s all a part of the witch's plot to tear you and Dean apart.” 

“It’s too late,” Amaya shook her head and wiped away the tears from her eyes. “The wedding was set for next week and now…” Amaya turned and glared at Dean. “He is in Dean’s place. I can guarantee that the universe is working against us Sam. So I will be leaving.” 

“Leaving?!” Sam’s eyes widened at her admission. 

“Yes,” She nodded her head. “I have decided to transfer to London.” 

“London? To join the British division?” Sam shook his head in disbelief. 

“There is nothing to stop me Sam. I talked to Ketch and I signed the transfer. I just need Henry’s final approval.”    

“Excuse me,” A voice interrupted the trio. 

The three of them turned to come face to face with Millie Winchester. The older woman stepped out and looked at the trio. Her eyes went to Dean and she tilted her head slightly before turning to Sam and Amaya. 

“Your grandfather is ready to eat, boys. Amaya, I believe he wants to speak to you after dinner.” Millie Winchester said as she walked up to the trio. Her eyes lingered on Dean first. 

“You okay, Mamaw?” Dean asked after clearing his throat. 

“I’m fine, dear, “ she sighed as she walked up to him. She placed a hand on her cheek. “That mission must have been tough,” she muttered, placing a hand on her cheek. 

“I’m fine, mamaw,” Dean gave her a smile. 

“Your eyes though,” she leaned in. “Your eyes look like they have seen hell and back. Pain, loss, heartache. Whatever happened on this mission… you look like you’ve changed.” she gave him a knowing look.

Dean felt his breath get caught in his throat. What the old woman said, sent a shiver down his spine. Could she tell that he wasn’t her real grandson? Dean looked into Millie’s eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat, before giving her a smile. 

“I promise mamaw,” He let out. “I was just taken by surprise. I know it doesn’t happen often but it does happen.”   

Millie let out a soft hum as she nodded, “It can happen to the best from time to time.” she nudged his face to look into his green eyes. It was almost like she was studying him. “Still, there is something… off.” 

Dean closed his eyes before gently grabbing the old woman’s hand and removing it from his cheek. 

“I’m sure Grandpa Henry is hungry,” Dean reminded her. “We should head inside.” 

“You are absolutely right,” Millie chuckled with a smile. “And we know how he is with that Winchester appetite.” 

Sam walked over and led Millie inside while Amaya grabbed Dean holding him back from walking inside. 

“You are not going to open that mouth,” she breathed. She stood in front of him and adjusted his tie and jacket avoiding looking into his eyes. “You are going to keep conversations short and sweet. But other than that, you will sit there, be quiet, and look pretty.”    

“Awwww,” Dean mocked. “You think I’m pretty.” 

“Shut up, jackass.” Amaya drawled as she walked inside with Dean following behind her. 

Chapter 9

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[divingtotheunknown]

Living In Uncertainties

To anyone who continues to resist like me, you may not realize it now but you are ever so lucky to not have experienced the COVID-19 pandemic. A huge part of people’s lives was swiftly taken from them as the virus raged across the country. Who would have thought that the one week suspension we heard on the news last year would last until now.

Most of the time, it felt unreal how the entire thing was. It was as if my world stopped and I was confined to one of its corners. I can’t say for myself how terrible the experience was, just that it was. It brought out the worst in the society, in men; selfishness, greed, indifference and above all, fear. Fear was the biggest of the four. It influenced all the others to terrorize the hearts and minds of people.

The virus was very unpredictable for a long time. It is actually testing the technology to stave off the virus. It could appear anywhere, anytime without us knowing and it could’ve meant life or death.

Which means to say that the possibility of anyone we loved or us ourselves getting the virus was high and that could very well be the end of the line. I can’t stress enough how badly that fear affected the mental and emotional well-being of a lot of the people I knew. Personally, I never expected this pandemic would let social media affect my own thinking. The same goes with the mindset of the public with what and how they consume information online. The fact the fake news is everywhere, undeniably a lot of people became victims of it, even some members of my family - which is why it is really important how important it is to be a responsible user nowadays. It was evident that during the first few days, we were vigorously trying to find ways to take off the looming dread from that thought but it seems that no matter how far we ran, that thought kept close on our tails.

People spoke up about the stress this entire thing would cause on society. In particular, the working class and the poor were the most affected. A lot of them needed to work daily just to get paid and earn a living. They had to stop so that they could be safe and also to stop the number of infected people from increasing. There was nothing they could do. When they left, it seemed as if society had stopped as well. To be honest, our business was affected as well. Luckily, I was able to help my parents continue the business through the use of e-commerce using different platforms online but I know and it is sad that not everyone has the access and ability to move forward using the same resources we had. Only a few workers were allowed to be outside of their homes, they were the medical workers and frontliners like those who worked in groceries. A lot of medical workers lost their lives to the virus. How painful it must have been for their colleagues to watch as the people beside them fell ill and succumbed to death. A friend of mine shared to me how hard it was for them not to see her father personally after dying due to a virus. He ended his life fulfilling his duty as a Doctor. Saying the last words for her Dad through video call is different from the usual but again, what can we do? I can only imagine all the pain they carried during those days. How brave they all were, risking their own safety for the sake of others. They did not want to be part of that front and yet there they were.

This stress was also put on students. Universities decided to conduct online classes completely. I did not see the fairness in that. While it’s true that we students should give value to our time by spending it on education, we too felt the weight of the situation. A lot of us were still coping with the madness that seemed to take on the world. But what could we do? Over a year, we have been so hopeful that one day, we can still go back to the campus but despite all that, I am still grateful for the power of media and technology. Applications like Facebook allows us to keep in touch, Twitter and Instagram reminds us to be updated, Blackboard, Zoom, Discord and other articulations of social media allows us to continue pursuing our dreams despite all the limitations and challenges brought by the pandemic. We had no choice but to resign to our fate of finishing the academic year against our wishes.

During these days, the government seemed to be at its worst. It turned out that hospitals all over the country were underprepared because they were not funded properly. What’s worse was that the government deployed the police and troops to “ensure public safety”. Just like what we always see in different social media applications, police do not protect the public, instead the people behind all the shortcomings in the country. How ironic it was to see the military well-armed. It added nothing more than fear to the people. There were several incidents where the military unjustly shot people down for being suspicious or unruly. They did not even hesitate to point their guns! Good thing is, with the continuous innovation in terms of technology, there was much evidence online that would prove the blasphemy of the abusers of power.

It did not take long for people to realize that they would be stuck at home for so long. Everyone needed to stay home and so they needed as many supplies as possible. However, it came to a point where people got greedy and all they could think of was themselves. People tend to hoard whenever they see news about the possible shift of quarantine and this is actually a situation I can connect with the lesson about substantivism wherein technology has a capability to affect or mold the people and even the society. I understand the need to look for one’s own welfare, I understand the need to care for our loved ones but what I did not understand was why people had to cross the line towards being greedy and hoarding far more than they needed.

As far as man has evolved, its progress is still so little. In the midst of a global crisis, they found time to claw at each other’s throats by pointing fingers to pass the blame. It came to a point where Asian people were discriminated against as carriers of the disease. Perhaps the worst case was that of the American president calling COVID-19 the Chinese virus. I felt ashamed of these people. There were a lot of others trying to help build more unity and yet these people were insensitive enough to cause more divisions. I dream that such connectivity has been brought to us by the media, hopefully time will come it will also apply to the society, country even as one nation.

It was truly a terrible time. Imagine the reality of a global scale crisis paired dawning on you from behind and before you are the immoral choices made by the society you live in. It was one of the most vulnerable moments of my life. I felt crushed by the immense weight of the situation we were all in.

I missed the outdoors, I missed my friends, I missed school. I missed the joys that I could only experience outside of my home, I missed the fresh air, I missed the sunlight. realized that I took a lot of these for granted. We can only see our loved ones on our screens and it is heartbreaking that we can no longer do the things we are used to. It’s true what they say: you only realize the value of some things once they are gone or taken away from you.

All I could wonder then, was if life would ever be back to the way things were.

They say that during the direst of situations, the worst and best in man shows. I’ve had my fair share of seeing just how bad a man can get. Yet, there were times when man’s goodness prevailed. In fact, you’d be surprised just how many of them there are.

A lot of people held volunteer work that reached out to poor communities so that they could be given food and supplies. Some people hosted online charity events from their homes to raise funds to donate to the medical effort, online donations drive and they even use media as their means of communication for community pantry. It was those moments that gave me hope and reminded me of how morally good people can be. During those moments it felt like not everything was wrong with the world.

Those days really made me realize how difficult it was to really put a finger on what morality is. Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that we may never really be completely good or bad. Sometimes, we’re a little bit of each other. Indeed, people are constantly changing, even technology and society. It’s unbelievable how new media changes our lives, our way of living and how we use these innovations although there’s always pros and cons. It’s hard to juggle that thought because we are so limited, so small compared to the universe we live in.

The message I leave with you now, dear reader, is to live. To live means to learn. To live means to see. To live means to understand, to appreciate, to feel, to live is everything. Get rid of the distractions caused by these changes. Concern yourself with the world so as not to be selfish but also devote time to yourself when you need it.

REFERENCES:

Soriano, P. N. (2021, August 31). Nueva Ecija records 14 new COVID-19 Delta variant cases. Rappler. https://www.rappler.com/nation/covid-19-delta-variant-cases-nueva-ecija-august-27-2021?utm_medium=Social&utm_campaign=Echobox&utm_source=Facebook&fbclid=IwAR20YsXyEhuxFMu7Y4P5uWon2xRnYZ7tqpQWSCJxxaaCdpFsTKtasfe5zI8#Echobox=1630055399

Pangue, J. (2021, January 9). In 2021, communities can prove that fighting disinformation isn’t just media’s role. Rappler. https://www.rappler.com/moveph/communities-prove-fighting-disinformation-not-just-media-role

[five-miles-over]

‘Aftermath’ Part 9: Be Prepared (Commodus x OC)

Summary: With the Senate officially dissolved, new alliances and plans form. The Emperor calls an old advisor, and two military minds come together to save their Republic.

Warning: Mentions of violence

Word Count: 2,203 

Read Part 1: The Impossible Dream here

Read Part 2: Proud of Your Boy here

Read Part 3: Point of No Return here

Read Part 4: Look Down here

Read Part 5: Beneath a Moonless Sky here

Read Part 6: These Palace Walls here

Read Part 7: Wait For It here

Read Part 8: Something There here

“I had hoped you might have learned some humility and respect.”

Petronius scoffed as Gaius led him out of his villa, having spent the night there after a long discussion filled with songs about the Republic and philosophical quotes. The estate was quite modest for a Senator, or rather a former-Senator. Lemon trees that emanated a sublime citrus fragrance lined the front of the sandstone building.

“Forgive me, Senator. A general is one who only knows to fight their enemy whilst looking them in the eye. He knows not of the art of flattery or the strategy of bending words with a slip of his tongue.”

Gaius sighed. Such is the nature of most military men, he thought, save General Quintus. That man had enough intelligence to save his skin when Commodus seized power for the first time. However, like all military men, his allegiance ultimately returned to the Spaniard at the crucial moment of judgment. “You crave for too much, General,” the older man replied. “It does not become a warrior to yearn for bloodshed so strongly.”

“I want him dead, that is all,” Petronius dismissed. “Rome has suffered enough under his wing.”

“And we shall save our motherland,” Gaius finished. “But we must arm ourselves with alliances and unite the forces under our cause. In the meantime, there may be a chance that Mania may take control of our Caesar before any other weapon can.”

As he reached the iron-gates of Gaius’s estate, he snorted. “With all due respect, Senator. If you are waiting for Commodus to lose himself in madness, then it is now that we must strike.”

Petronius continued, “He has no one left, Gaius. Even his own family had begun to fear him - his sister, his nephew…and possibly anyone else who happened to know Commodus as a child. If we killed him now, there would be no one too mourn for him, or defend him.”

“Humor me, then. How would you, a mere general who lives off the Emperor’s bread and salt, kill him?” Gaius smirked condescendingly.

“Bribe the servants to poison him.”

“Suppose the servants decide to tell the emperor,” Gaius countered. “You would be caught, and they would be rewarded.”

“Then we bribe the gladiators to attack Commodus.”

“He pays their entertainers well enough. Why should they complain or succumb to the influence of an outsider?”

With every counter-remark given by the old man, Petronius felt his temper dissipate bit by bit. Who was Gaius to lecture about the importance of saving Rome from a dictator when he himself, let alone his friends, could not bring themselves to take action? Even after the loss of their positions within politics, all the men were talking about the night before was the beauty of Gaius’s seemingly splendid mistresses. Certainly the wine may have loosened their usually-sharp tongues, but it was surprising, nay unacceptable, to see the state of Rome’s greatest minds.

Could those men not see that by lying low, they were putting the lives of Roman citizens at risk? That by refusing to rise to their call of duty, that they were only clipping the wings of the eagle that symbolized Rome and its greatness? It would only be a matter of time before the emperor, in a bout of madness, paranoia, and pure malice, would sever the talons of this eagle and leave it as powerless as a common fowl.

The general’s nostrils flared while the veins in his forearms throbbed furiously. “I do not care for your shrewd statements, Senator. I do not wish to contemplate upon your retorts, nor do I wish to indulge your appetite for wordplay. As I have told you, I am a general - I shall fight with my hands and not with my tongue. My hands are bound to serve Rome, and all it stands for.”

“Nevertheless,” he hastily added. “Since I have shared your bread and wine, as well as taken refuge in your home during the night, I shall revere you as any proper guest ought to. Fare thee well, Senator. I hope that you and I shall meet again.”

“Fare thee well, General.” Gaius watched as the young man vanished into the hustle and bustle of the public square. He certainly had a problem with the much-too-transparent ideologies that military men had, but in order for Commodus to receive his duly-deserved demise, the Senators needed the favor of the military. Perhaps he ought to the be the one to vouch for diplomacy in the midst of this clash of ideals.

The city was quiet compared to most days, even for a mid-morning. Possibly due to the games taking place today, the plebeians seemed to be missing from the streets. However, peddlers were still out selling their goods - a man clamored for people to buy his new stock of clams and oysters, freshly caught from the Mediterranean, while another advertised fine silks imported from China. Various hues in various designs, he said. A dark red one with a golden border caught Petronius’s eye, immediately remembering his sister’s favorite color.

Perhaps he could buy a bolt of the silk for her, possibly as an attempt to apologize for being away all night. Ever since his brother-in-law had passed away from the wars against Germania, he had sworn to guard his sister and her two sons with his life. Keeping such a vow felt almost effortless under the reign of Marcus Aurelius, but under his son, it was the contrary. She wept in Petronius’s arms the night that Senator Gracchus died, saying that she was glad that her husband received an honorable death instead of a false treason accusation. At that moment, he shushed her for fear that the other Praetorian guards would hear her, reporting them both to the emperor. However, if he could turn back time, he’d tell her not to worry, for the emperor would not live long enough to turn Rome into ruins. And with a warm hug, he would seal his promise to her.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Boots clicking, Emperor Commodus paced the empty throne room with a strangely serene look on his face. He’d just come from the games, which never failed to amuse him. For those moments in the Colosseum, he felt as powerful as the gods themselves, taking life as needed, while watching lesser beings fight to survive. Sweat beaded his forehead while he walked, and he almost wanted to remove his laurel crown off due to the heat. Nevertheless, an emperor had to look his best at all times.

From an outsider’s standpoint, it seemed that Emperor Commodus took the Senators’ tongues along with their power. Silence was all those dry old men had to give him today as well. He needed to know what they could possibly be thinking of, nay, he needed to know about their plan to end his reign before they could strike. It was time for an old loyalist to join minds with him again.

“Falco, I’ve been expecting you.” The former senator entered cautiously, his leather sandals echoing against the smooth floor of the palace halls. He bowed before the emperor and stood upright. From the events of last night, it was with much skepticism that any of the senators thought that they could ever receive the emperor’s good graces. Perhaps his former loyalty has now manifested into a blessing. “How may I be of service to you, Caesar?”

Commodus gestured for him to be seated. “I take it that you, along with your colleagues, have heard my decision regarding the new…alterations in the governance of Rome. It must certainly displease you and your colleagues, does it not?”

Without flinching, Falco kept his wits near despite the presence of the temperamental Emperor. “Caesar, I cannot speak for those men. With all due respect, they are no longer my colleagues. All I know is that you are my Emperor, and that every decision you take must have been formed with necessary contemplation." Falco knew he was telling lies. To the Senate, Commodus never gave the impression of a man of thought, let alone the impression of a man.

And as for the Emperor, he knew better than to take the former Senator’s words by face value. Nevertheless, he did need an ally and it was only Falco who gave him advice when the rest of the Senate sided with Maximus.

“Thank you, Falco. Out of those men, it seems that you are the only one who genuinely cares for my welfare. Your priorities lie for the Empire, and for none else. That is why I wish to make you my main advisor. With no Empress and no Senate, I need a good man like you by my side…to rule, and to care for the people.”

Pretending to be stunned, brimming with gratitude, Falco rose from his seat. “Highness, your offer is…one of high value.”

“Join me, Falco,” Commodus extended his hand, which was accepted by the former Senator. “Join me, and we shall usher in a new age of Rome.”

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————

The Sun was ruthless to the troops of Rome today - many a foot soldier grunted with displeasure as they sparred with each other under the sweltering heat. General Petronius and Centurion Philomenus greeted each other with a familiar look, having seen each other at Gaius’s meeting last night.

“I sense tension in your fingers,” the general pointed towards his peer’s hand.

Philomenus chuckled as he glanced at his knuckles circling the hilt of his sword. “I…I thought about my sister. How she must be waiting for me, and how the heat is making her uncomfortable.”

“I empathize - I have a sister as well. Her husband was a legionnaire - do you remember Felix Cassius? No…well, the army is quite massive.”

The centurion picked up his weapon, twirling it absentmindedly. “Forgive me for not knowing him. I think it would take one eons to count every single life lost during the late emperor’s battles in Germania.”

Petronius gritted his teeth. “I wish the emperor’s son lost his life in Germania instead of the emperor.” Almost immediately, Philomenus tackled him to the ground with a sandy hand over his mouth.

“You monster!” Petronius gasped as he tried to catch his breath. “What in the name of Jupiter was that for?!”

“It was for daring to speak against the Emperor. We both know that punishment would be doled out on both of us - on you for your impudent tongue, and on me for listening to your talk of treason.”

“Men like you make me sick,” the general spat. “Was it not you who quoted the great Marcus Aurelius himself, having memorized his extensive writings? Do you not know that by punishing those who speak out against Commodus, you only encourage his tyrannical, anti-republic ways?!”

“Perhaps, but I do know when to keep my tongue in my cheek,” Philomenus retorted. “Did you not see what happened to the Spaniard who dared to challenge the emperor?”

“The Spaniard was once a general, Philomenus. He used to be one of us. If he could not complete his revenge, it would be our responsibility to finish it for him.”

Shaking his head, he took the general behind a wall while pretending to be very thirsty. “I do believe in the ways of the Republic, and that Rome’s golden age ended when the republic was seized by a pompous man pretending to be a dictator.”

“Commodus is not Julius Caesar, Philomenus - he has no military prowess of his own, aside from formidable swordplay.”

“Please, just know that he will not last long. The grain will run out, and the public who loved him so much will turn their backs on him. But while he’s in power, let him be happy.”

“You sound just like those blasted Senators,” Petronius grunted. “Those old men can afford to live off their ancestral wealth for their remaining years, but you and I are not like them!”

Philomenus yelled back, suddenly triggered by the mention of familial affluence. “I know that! My parents perished when I was thirteen, leaving my sister and I penniless with a pair of newborn twins.”

“I have worked a long way to come where I am,” he continued to fume. “I know what I have read speaks of a Republic, but what can I do?! What can we do, given our state?”

“Then join me,” Petronius coerced the other man. “Help me think of a way to kill Commodus, and together we can bring back the Republic Rome was always meant to be.”

“Here is what we’ll do- we will ambush him from the exit gates of the Colosseum. And when he enters without bodyguards, we will make our presence known and attack him,” Philomenus whispered. “I will keep our weapons under my tunic so as not to arouse suspicion.”

“Anger has certainly brought your intelligence into light. I admire your plan, but what will I do?” Petronius asked with a raised eyebrow.

The centurion smirked, “Stay alive, and keep your goddamn mouth shut for once.”

“Commodus must die….for Maximus and for the Senate.”

“No, he must die for Rome.”

[queensonjas]

King Harald’s 2020 New Year’s Eve Speech

This evening, I first and foremost send a greeting to all of you who have been affected by the landslide in Gjerdrum. This terrible event makes a deep impression on all of us. 

I sympathize with those of you who are entering the new year with sorrow and uncertainty. With those who have lost their homes and who are desperate and cannot see the way forward. 

At the same time I would like to commend the authorities, emergency services, and civil society for the great efforts that have been made under very demanding conditions. You still have much hard work ahead of you. And once again we see people are mobilizing to help their fellow human beings in need. It moves me and makes me very proud.

This catastrophe that has affected so many comes at the end of a year that has been difficult for all of us.

That is why I am sending warm thoughts to all our people with this New Year’s speech - from Svalbard to Lindesnes, from the costal communities in the west to the border villages in the east. My thoughts are with those who are working and studying abroad. And with all of you who wish you were somewhere else tonight. Who misses someone you love.

To all of you who feel alone this New Year’s Eve: you are not alone in that feeling.

To all who are weary and worried about the future: I understand you well.

It has been a year of disappointments, cancellations, and postponements. A year when we had to put a lot on hold. But we must hope that we have so much to look forward to!

We are living in a pandemic together - but it has affected us so differently. For some, it was the year their dreams burst, their jobs disappeared, and what was painful before became even worse. Others experienced their families becoming closer and we learned to appreciate the little things in life here and now. For most people, it may have been a mix of most things.

I want to thank everyone tonight.

Thank you for giving up family birthdays and high school graduation celebrations, wedding parties, good hugs, and cherished traditions. 

Thank you for singing from balconies, shopping for elderly parents, and staying away from each other - in pure care.

The Queen and I, like other grandparents, miss hugging our children and grandchildren. But we hope deep in our hearts that we will make up for this in the new year!

In January, we will have been King and Queen for 30 years. Throughout this time, traveling around Norway and meeting people has been what has given us the greatest joy. We have sorely missed these meetings this year. But instead, like everyone else, we have kept in touch with people in other ways. Among other things, we have received many letters.

Some of the most moving we received on May 17th. Additionally, we received several thousand drawings and letters from school children, since they could not parade past the palace this year. Several children put into words what many of us felt: 

“I miss everything social. This is a bit brutal,” wrote a girl in third grade.

“I can bake a cake alone, but I need a friend to help me eat it,” wrote another.

And I think we can all agree with eight-year-old Alva: “I look forward to everything being normal again.”

May 17 was for many - after all - a day of joy all over the country. We had hardly dared to hope for that. This year, there was every reason to celebrate a little extra, since we marked the 75th anniversary of the liberation. And this year was when our values, everything we built and have created together, were put to the hardest test since the war.  

We have now shown that we have a democracy that carries on in times of crisis. One that is built on mutual trust between the authorities and the people - and between all people.

We have seen courage and action in situations where difficult choices had to be made.

We have seen the importance of managing our assets with prudence and wisdom over time. This has given us financial backing when we really needed it.

We have experienced an impressive determination, creativity, and ability to think innovatively when entire industries were paralyzed almost overnight.

We have shown that we are willing to sacrifice much of our own for the good of the community. For each other.

We are in a serious situation - both Norway and the world. But crises force changes that can be both good and necessary - even if they are painful. History has shown us this time and time again.

For a short while we saw blue skies and clear water in some of the most polluted places on earth. We carry this picture with us. It gives hope, it shows possibilities - and it also gives us a responsibility.

So, dear all - where does the road go next?

We must probably be prepared for a new year facing uncertainty and difficulties, but with good reason for optimism. The vaccines give hope to the whole world.

Meanwhile, there are still difficult times for large parts of our society and business. We will continue to have an unusual everyday life. It is okay to be scared, sad, and desperate.

We must be generous with each other - and with ourselves. For good and bad days, when humors and moodiness fluctuate with all of us. It is completely natural.

I think many people have probably gotten a little tired of the word "volunteer" now at the end of the year. Usually, volunteer work means an all-out effort for the community, which may end with a cup of coffee or a sausage, well satisfied after joint efforts. But we are not used to participating in marathon work, with an unknown end.

Still, dear ones: it is precisely this ability to achieve something together that has helped us through difficult times - both now and in the past. Now we must try to bring out new strength we may not have known we had - both within ourselves and as a society.

We have to take care of each other.

I have special consideration for our children and those who are young. When time between guard posts lengthens, a lot of suffering and loneliness can go under the radar. Vulnerable young people are extra vulnerable when they lose their network - or the one who sees them often. The coach, the teacher, the father of a friend…

Now we must be each other's "guard". The one who stops and looks, who makes a phone call and asks. There are many in our country now who feel that life is somehow moving on without them. Both young and old think they are having a bad time: For the young, the void without social contact is completely unnatural. For the elderly, every day is precious.

While we wait, as we continue to endure and live our days as best we can, I am sure we will learn something important that we can take with us even after this is over:

Many of us have recognized how good ordinary everyday life really is. Isn't all the usual things we miss the most?

We miss good, routine chores and activities we have taken for granted. To be able to gather with friends, colleagues, and family. To let be touched by and get excited about shared experiences in a culture house or in a football stadium. We miss common spaces: the chat at the coffee machine, the random meetings in shops. It is often in these spaces that valuable meetings take place.

We have also learned something else important: we are stronger than we think. It provides us with inner security and strength - both as individuals and as a nation. We will keep this in mind when the next test of strength comes.  

Dear all,

I cannot say that everything will be fine and that everything will be back to normal.

A little boy asked me in a letter: "King Harald, are you a hundred years old?" To that I can answer: No, I'm not quite that old. But I have been involved in a lot in my long life, and I can promise you:

The pandemic we are in now will pass. We have come through great trials before. One day we will look back and ask each other: How in the world did get through this?

Then we will know that we managed it because we used all the best - in each of us, in our society, in our democracy. We must know that we got through because we never gave up hope.

For hope is a way of life. Hope is will, hope is action. Hope is to fixate on something that gives us meaning - and following it. Hope will carry us all into 2021.

I wish each and every one of you a Happy New Year!