#I never had formal training because I just learned kind of... organically I guess
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As someone who grew up in a bilingual household where we spoke English but also signed, the part of Mabel and Theo's relationship that fascinates me the most is the communication, or lack thereof.
I'm mostly hearing (...sort of...) but grew up around a lot of d/Deaf people, CODAs, interpreters, etc. so while I can't give any input on the experience of profound deafness, I can at least tell apart different styles of signing. It's a little hard to tell sometimes how much of this is characterization vs. the skill level of the actors, but it is interesting.
Teddy Dimas does not sign fluidly. It's immediately obvious. It's not that he's terrible or that he can't be understood... it's just that there are a lot of tells that he does not sign as a primary language. The terseness of the signs, the deliberateness. You can tell that there's a second of thought before each sign, a jerky sort of compactness to them, that's common with people who learn to sign later in life. (Or who don't get a ton of practice with it.)
Signing, when you do it right, requires the use of your whole body. That can be hard for hearing people, who are generally used to more restrained movements. Teddy Dimas has never quite lost that restraint. He still can't go all in, not with his signing or his parenting.
I always thought this was really interesting, because it means that Teddy most likely learned to sign for his son (tragically uncommon with hearing parents of Deaf children) but that he still can't quite translate his thoughts properly into sign language. He can't quite get his emotions through to his son. There's a barrier there between them, and it seems to be largely one that Teddy's erected -- until Theo starts snapping back.
What I'm getting at is that Teddy has always forcibly drawn his son into his world instead of immersing himself in Theo's, and it shows. And it has really harmed their relationship, in more ways than one.
Zoe... we don't see a ton of her signing, but there does seem to be something somewhat performative about it. It's more fluid, like perhaps she's done it her whole life, but there's also something sort of... idk, false about it? And I wonder if that's just Zoe. It felt like she was always covering up her true feelings of loneliness and emptiness with a flamboyant personality, and the little flourishes to her signing seem to convey that as well. Her signing feels almost theatrical to me.
Theo and Mabel, though... I've always loved that episode where they go to Coney Island together. I get the criticism that Theo said at the beginning that he couldn't understand much of what she said when he was reading lips -- and then she proceeded to just talk at him for the rest of the episode anyway. But to me, at least, that always seemed like it was kind of the point. They couldn't understand each other, not fully, and that was something soothing to them.
There's something healing, I think, about shouting into the void. Letting out all of your most personal, complicated feelings without fear of repercussion or judgement. Talking into the wind because you know it won't talk back. You need to feel that echo but also know that it won't be heard.
I think there was some of that there in their initial relationship. Both of them desperately needed to talk, to get everything off their chests, but both of them also have trouble opening up to others due to trauma. So I think speaking to someone who couldn't understand them was, in some ways, ideal. They could make a human connection while keeping it fairly impersonal. They could unload without fear of judgement -- or worse, understanding.
Oddly, I think their mutual need to communicate without being understood was the one thing they understood best about each other. They could sense each other's loneliness and wariness and inability to trust that they could tell someone something important without it being used against them -- because their love and their trust have always been used against them.
So maybe in a way, their inability to talk to each other was actually what helped them communicate on a deeper level...?
Still, though. Still. I was so pleased to see that Mabel is learning more sign language so she can talk to Theo. She's got a long way to go, but no one learns to sign overnight. She's making progress, and you can tell that Theo appreciates it. There are still times where he gets too excited and signs too fast and she doesn't catch all of it, and there are times when she gets so wrapped up in her own soliloquies that she forgets that you have to face Deaf people while talking to them, but there's a familiarity to it now. When he signs too fast, she smiles and teases him. When she talks too quickly or forgets to sign or turns away from him, he just smiles and sighs and shakes his head. Then waits for her to come back.
Theo finds it irritating, obviously, but also understands that it's just... Mabel. She spends so much time in her own head that she has trouble communicating even with people who speak her language, as evidenced with Tobert. And maybe Theo does understand her in ways that others can't. Maybe it's the very fact that he accepts that he can't always understand her that makes her feel comfortable with him.
I also have to wonder, y'know... Has anyone ever learned to sign for him before, other than his father, who clearly saw it as a burden? Has anyone ever seen him as worth the effort of learning, not out of an obligation to speak to him but a desire to? No wonder he's being patient with her. I wonder if anyone has ever put in as much effort for him as she already has. It makes me so sad to think about, because what she's doing now is so... bare minimum. Theo has been so desperately alone, and so much of that is because his father isolated him. It's because no one else ever reached out. :(
idk, it just makes me happy that these two people who originally bonded over their inability to communicate are now comfortable enough with each other to try actually talking. There's something so shy and so joyful about it. I love that for them, especially Theo.
I don't want him to be alone anymore!! I want him to have someone he can talk to, whom he trusts enough to talk to, who thinks he's worth learning to talk to back!
Their odd brand of bilingual communication (or lack thereof) is just fascinating to me. ;;
#omitb#omitb spoilers#only murders in the building#long post#look I'm not going to pretend to be an expert#I learned to sign from parents and siblings and babysitters and a WHOLE bunch of nuns#some of whom knew ASL and some SEE#I never had formal training because I just learned kind of... organically I guess#and my signing is VERY pidgin#I can talk to my family obviously but I'm never going to call myself an expert#but these are my thoughts at least
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Fic - Jodi and Gus
Word Count: 1,516
Summary: Jodi never intended to be the unofficial barber in Pelican Town, it just... happened.
Notes: Thank you to @floopthecooper for the prompt!
Jodi was never sure exactly when it was she became Pelican Town’s unofficial barber. It just sort of happened over time. Slowly more residents in town came to her for their haircuts and before she knew it, she was cutting the hair of almost every person in town. Word of mouth spread in a place like Pelican Town. Though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when she got the reputation around town as the unofficial barber, she could at least pinpoint exactly when it all began. It had been a cool spring morning, not long after she, Kent, and Sam had moved to Pelican Town. Jodi had always been the one to cut Sam’s hair, it was always so much easier and more affordable to do it herself and it wasn’t all that difficult. She’d never had any formal training, just a few attempts of trial and error, maybe a bad haircut or two for Sam, but she ended up figuring it out along the way.
Whenever possible, Jodi tried to cut Sam’s hair outdoors. It made less of a mess inside the house and was easier to clean up. Jodi had sat Sam down outside, covering his shoulders and back with a towel, before starting up the clippers to give his hair a trim. It was about halfway through the haircut when the local saloon owner, Gus, passed by their house on his way to visit the house nextdoor. Jodi waved politely, though she still didn’t know him all that well. Jodi never found herself visiting the saloon, she always prepared homecooked meals and wasn’t a drinker, so there was just no need. Still, if this was going to be her family’s new home for quite some time, she wanted to be sociable. When she waved, Gus stopped walking and waved in return. The large, welcoming smile on his face seemed genuine and his eyes were soft and kind.
“Hi there, Jenny!” Gus greeted her happily.
“It’s Jodi,” Jodi corrected him with a nervous giggle. Gus slapped the palm of his hand hard against his forehead.
“Sheesh, what a knucklehead,” Gus muttered to himself. “My apologies, Jodi. And this here must be Samson.”
“Yes, though he prefers to go by Sam,” Jodi answered, already smiling and waving her hand dismissively for the apology she knew was going to come. Sure enough, Gus looked mortified.
“Two for two, I’m usually so much better than this,” Gus replied apologetically. “Sorry for the mixup, I promise it won’t happen again.”
“No apologies necessary,” Jodi assured him.
“So I’m sorry to bother you, but uh… I couldn’t help but notice that you’re cutting the little one’s hair,” Gus pointed out, tilting his head curiously. Sam cringed on the spot at being called ‘the little one’.
“Oh, am I not supposed to be doing that outside?” Jodi asked nervously. “I was hoping the breeze wouldn’t blow the hair around, I apologize. I can move this indoors if it’s bothersome.”
“No, not at all!” Gus replied, shaking his head. “I was only asking because… well, I hope this doesn’t come across as odd, but… is that something you do for a living or just for your son?”
“Just for my son,” Jodi answered. “I’ve been cutting his hair since he was about three years old. Cheaper that way.”
“I hear you,” Gus replied, nodding. “Haircuts can be so expensive. Even worse when we have to travel all the way to Grampleton once or twice a season for it. It ends up costing a fortune when you consider the cost of the haircut plus transportation and in the amount of time it takes, you usually need to grab lunch while you’re there. It ends up being a whole day trip just to get half an inch trimmed off my hair.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Jodi remarked, feeling a bit guilty. Between cutting Sam’s and Kent’s hair herself, plus trying her best to trim her own, she hadn’t had to take any of her family to get a haircut in quite some time.
“I guess I was just wondering if I could ask you… sheesh, I feel bad even asking, but… would I be able to ask you for a haircut?” Gus asked nervously. “I’ve been putting it off for over a week now and it would be so much easier if I could get it done and over with here.”
“I don’t know,” Jodi answered uncertainly, her eyes darting back and forth to avoid seeing any disappointment in Gus’ face. His kindness and personable nature made it difficult to disappoint him.
“I would pay you a fair rate,” Gus clarified.
“Oh no, it’s not that,” Jodi assured him. “It’s not the money issue, it’s just that I’m not exactly a trained professional. I never went to school for this or anything, I just have what I picked up over the years from trial and error with Sam. I’d be nervous about messing up or not being able to cut it the way you want it to be. I’d never forgive myself if I gave you a bad haircut.”
“I promise you I’m an easy customer,” Gus remarked with a light-hearted chuckle. “I’m not picky at all. I could walk out of here with a bowl cut and still be okay, I just need this hair a bit shorter. Too much hair in my eyes drives me nuts.”
“I really don’t know, I’m not qualified,” Jodi went on, swaying uncertainly on the spot as she mulled it over in her mind. “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind if I completely mangled your hair?”
Gus stepped closer to the porch and took a look at Sam’s hair which was halfway through being cut, looked thoughtfully, and nodded. Poor Sam sat awkwardly in the chair, fidgeting as some stranger gawked at him and his hair.
“From what I can tell, I highly doubt you’ll mangle it,” Gus said kindly. “I’m willing to take the risk, but only if you are. I’d never want to pressure you to do it if you’re uncomfortable, though.”
“I’m certainly happy to give it a try,” Jodi replied optimistically. “I’ve never cut anyone’s hair besides my son’s and my husband’s. I suppose if it would save you the trouble and you’re willing to live with the results, I’ll give it a try. No charge, though, especially since I’m just winging it.”
“No deal, then,” Gus replied seriously. “I won’t take something for nothing, especially not from a working mother.”
“Oh, I don’t work,” Jodi corrected Gus.
“You don’t?” Gus asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. “You don’t cook? Clean? Organize? Plan? Provide care? Teach? You don’t do any of that?”
“Well that’s diff-” Jodi began, but Gus cut in.
“Moms have the hardest job of all, in my opinion,” Gus went on, smiling warmly at Jodi. “Don’t tell me you don’t work when you’ve got more jobs than any of the rest of us. Yes, I’m paying you for your work.”
It was incredible how warm Jodi felt while Gus spoke, she could feel her cheeks flushing at his comments and it made her feel more validated and understood than she’d felt in quite some time. Too often her role was diminished or looked down upon, it was nice for someone to notice and appreciate her value as a stay at home mom.
“Thank you,” Jodi giggled nervously, turning her head slightly to try and hide her blushing cheeks. “Just let me know when you want that haircut.”
“The saloon opens in two hours, I doubt there’s any chance you can do it before then?”
“I could probably get started in about fifteen minutes,” Jodi estimated. “Just gotta finish with Sam first but I could cut your hair right afterwards. Might as well as long as I’ve got everything out.”
“Perfect, that gives me plenty of time to stop by your nextdoor neighbor’s house for a quick chat,” Gus remarked thoughtfully. “Both of their daughters’ birthdays are in spring, so they called me over to talk about ordering a cake for them.”
“You’re a bartender, chef, and baker?” Jodi asked, nodding at Gus with an impressed grin.
“You’re not the only one juggling a lot of jobs,” Gus replied playfully. “Thanks again for the haircut, I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t thank me yet until after it’s done,” Jodi teased. “See you in a little bit.”
“See you then,” Gus replied, waving to Jodi as he continued on his way down the path to the house nextdoor.
At least that’s how it began, one small favor for the kind bartender in town in his time of need. Yet by the time fall rolled around, Jodi was cutting hair at least three times a week and had never been sure how it snowballed that way. What she hadn’t learned yet, but would learn during her time in Pelican Town, was that everyone in town loved and respected Gus. And when he gushed to a saloon full of patrons about his fantastic haircut from the new woman in town, people listened.
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Best Intentions *COMPLETE* Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify
“Ah, Lieutenant!” Erithon swallowed hard against the wave of apprehension that was gathering in his throat as Duke Organa flagged him down. “A most splendid representative of our allies in the Republic. Come!”
He managed not to squirm like a cadet when the Duke clapped him on the shoulder, turning him toward the ballroom’s grand stairway. It wasn’t that he didn’t like parties. This was just a few steps away from the usual military shindig: salute a few times, don’t spill anything on the dress uniform. Nobility wasn’t that far removed from the brass, right? Same kind of handshake deals that meant something a little different to each party, and something else altogether for the people under them. He shrugged inside the stiff sleeves of his jacket, not exactly uncomfortable, just… unfamiliar. It fit fine. But it didn’t feel quite right. Like this whole scene.
“Ah, excellent,” Organa drawled, slowing as a commotion drew everyone’s attention. Flashes sparkled as various holocams swarmed like killiks around the newest arrival. The duke glanced sidelong at Erithon while the soldier craned his neck to get a better view, squinting past the glare.
He knew – obviously; he wasn’t a complete nerf herder – that it would be his Jedi, the same way he knew when a blaster was about to overheat. He just knew. Was that how the Force worked? He didn’t think so, and a question like that seemed so utterly childish he almost laughed aloud. Would she, if he asked? Nah, she wouldn’t. She’d smile and offer him a gentle analogy like that morning, when he’d gathered enough nerve to ask her how he came to be sitting next to her on the transport and not in a body bag.
“Force healing is…” Aitahea had replied, their shoulders nudging companionably as the transport rumbled back toward the palace, “…hard to explain.” Her cheeks had flushed a little, the darting glance from below her lowered lashes full of shy apology. “But I’ll try.” She’d explained her method, which to him didn’t sound all that different from any other medical scanner he’d been in, only a lot more pleasant if his experience was any example.
“My sister on Brentaal is a nurse. Thought it was a little funny when we were younger. We always had medical droids to take care of everything, right?” The Jedi had bobbed her head, eager to hear his next thought. “But after I woke up in a kolto tank the first time alone, I mean, no personnel…” He’d flailed for some explanation of the isolation he’d felt, but it had been hard to recall while her shoulder had been jostling against his. He’d shrugged, grinned, and continued, “Now I think I prefer seeing someone friendly on waking.”
She’d gazed at him with a solemn wonder that had quickened his breath, had him doing everything he could to memorize the ever-so-slight parting of her lips before they curled into a smile.
Just like they did now.
Erithon was so preoccupied with following her gaze that the sudden smile blooming in his direction took his breath away. Again. Aitahea was resplendent. Gossamer enshrouded, bound hair freed from utilitarian plaits and tumbling over her bare shoulders – he throttled back a ridiculous urge to elbow Duke Organa and point out that she had shoulders, and weren’t they nice, too?
Organa smoothed his hands over his lapels, looking pleased with himself, while Erithon struggled to recall his higher vocabulary. “I expect the press will want a holo of our heroes.”
“A holo of-” he began, but she floated over to them right then, luminous and exquisite. It became quite clear who the press would want a holo of. The Jedi offered the duke a generous curtesy, and Erithon found his looming panic - particularly at the words “press” and “holo” - replaced by fascination with the way her earrings brushed against her jawline. Duke Organa caught her hands as she rose and enfolded her in a paternal embrace.
“Thank you, it’s beautiful,” Erithon heard Aitahea whisper to the duke.
“Superb timing, my dear.” The duke’s eyes crinkled merrily around an affectionate smile. He turned to nod at Erithon, adroitly pressing one of Aitahea’s hands into his, then stepped expertly into the background with a final, grand pronouncement: “Our Paladins!”
A cascade of flashes set Erithon’s vision shimmering, but training swiftly rose to meet unfamiliarity, and he managed to remain stoic even as his heart clanged wildly against his ribs. Clever fellow, that Organa, he mused, and with a smirk as bold as he could muster, he deftly hooked his arm under the Jedi’s hand and guided her away from the press. The Duke’s laughter echoed through the hall behind them, but Erithon couldn’t hear it and wouldn’t have cared anyway; he was busy memorizing the sound of her restrained giggle at his shoulder.
“That was a bold move, diplomatically speaking, Lieutenant,” she said playfully, drawing them to a stop to hold him at arm’s length. Flashes sparkled again, unnoticed by either. Her scrutiny didn’t bother him, and it did give him an opportunity to reciprocate.
“You’re… you look amazing,” he breathed, unable to push his awe aside. She could have been a daughter of any of the noble houses on Alderaan, only she couldn’t because none of them were as radiant, as otherworldly. She couldn’t, because even without her lightsaber (that he could tell, anyway), she remained a veritable force of nature. Unexplainable and irreplaceable, flushed cheeks and wide eyes and little white flowers caught up in her hair. Because when he’d said something as trite as ‘you look amazing’ her eyes lit up like she’d never heard anyone say it before this.
“Pardon me, Master Jedi? Lieutenant?” A fidgeting Haley Organa interrupted as politely as possible, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “We’re ready for you.”
Erithon blinked, overwhelmed with the sudden lurching feeling that he hadn’t studied for a test. Hadn’t he just deftly navigated them out of this nonsense? “For…us?”
Before the young page’s nervousness could escalate to panic, Aitahea intervened: “An introduction. The formal presentation. It’s mostly for the holonet, so they can put a name with your holo, and hopefully spell it correctly.” Her brows lowered, and he caught a glimpse of solemn concern behind her light tone. “It shouldn’t be unlike one of your military events.”
He inclined his head, discomfort ebbing away. He didn’t think it was a Jedi thing, not this time. “Smile, but not too much.”
“Just so,” she replied softly, reaching up to brush away some unseen particle from his collar. He straightened, willing his face back into a mask of quiet confidence. Her own features settled into practiced serenity, but her eyes, fixed on his, danced.
Just another kind of battlefield.
[BREAK HERE]
“Republic Lieutenant Erithon Zale of Havoc Squad and Master Aitahea Daviin of the Jedi Order.”
The cluster of press at the foot of the grand stair disappeared momentarily behind the coruscation of flashes. Beyond them Aitahea briefly glimpsed, through the sea of elaborate costume and outlandish headwear, the dancers at the center of the hall. Over the buzz of voices, she could hear the notes of a familiar waltz. Haley Organa gave her a relieved smile as he slipped away to his next charges, leaving the Jedi and the soldier to descend the gauntlet together. Beneath her hand, Erithon’s arm was reassuringly steady.
Uncertainty flickered in his eyes only once they reached the last stair and the press drew close again. Erithon looked down, one brow raised in a wordless plea: What now? Aitahea laughed and nudged him toward a knot of familiar faces.
“Guess we made an entrance,” he admitted, sparing a last glance toward the lingering press, and turned toward Elara Dorne and Arik Jorgan, both in military dress like their commander, and a beaming Brant Sonn. “Hey, we know them.”
They exchanged greetings; the more formal commentary was punctuated with the chatter of battlefield allies good-naturedly enjoying each other’s company. Aitahea listened to the companions, struggling to keep her eyes on the others and not so frequently on Erithon. Grasping rather tenaciously to his arm was helping but had to be forsaken well too soon for her preference when Tharan and Holliday approached, asking that the Jedi make introductions for them, it wouldn’t take but a moment.
“Of course,” Aitahea agreed, all politeness, turning back to Erithon to excuse herself. He winked at her and caught her free hand in a quick squeeze when she began to pull away. Aitahea found herself suddenly and agreeably conscious that neither of their finery required gloves. His hands were warm.
“Hurry back,” he said, eyes crinkling with mirth, and Aitahea nearly forgot to let go before being ushered away by a harassed-looking Tharan.
‘Hurry’ became three different conversations with seven different nobles from at least two houses and a science corporation headquartered on Organa lands. At last, Aitahea was finally able to withdraw from the conversation, wandering over to where dancers traded partners and minced steps rather than words or plans. It was one of her favorite court dances, learned and practiced enough in her youth that even now she felt muscles tensing for steps she hadn’t taken in years. Orderly and precise, patterns were traced and rewritten, dancers finding each other again, over and over.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
Aitahea was so entranced that she startled when Erithon spoke at her shoulder and laughed a little breathlessly. “Forgive me, I was so preoccupied with the dancers.” He offered her his arm and another charming grin, and she accepted, grateful that only she knew how an adolescent glee had settled so comfortably under her superficial calm. “I haven’t heard this since I was a girl – an initiate, in the enclave, that is.” She winced at her rambling explanation.
“Pretty.” He hadn’t seemed to notice her discomfort, occupied with carefully watching as the dancers divided, exchanged partners for a cursory bow, then returned to join hands. “Do you know the dance, too?”
She nodded. Well, if you’re going to be preposterously transparent may as well carry on, she thought vehemently, but her voice and expression remained blithe. “It’s traditional on Alderaan. Are you familiar with it?”
He grimaced at the dancers, chagrin drawing his brows low. “Um, no. But,” he offered cautiously, “I’m reasonably good at following orders. And you’ve kept me from embarrassing myself so far.”
“I’ve never… I haven’t in years, I don’t know if I can recall all…” Aitahea focused determinedly on his eyes while she tried to hold fast the wild fluttering in her chest, something delicate and precious that had lingered, and after a moment she found she liked it there simply fine. She inhaled slowly, then asked, “You’re certain?”
“I trust you.”
~
Erithon had made his mind up to ask if she wanted to dance before he’d even spotted her. He might not have any empathic sensibilities, but he’d watched her seek out the dancers even while they were walking down the grand stairs. Even he could tell she’d wanted to be out there, and if he could just manage to stay on his feet long enough to give her the chance, he’d handle any ribbing from his crew later. She deserved it.
“Listen,” she murmured over her shoulder as they waited, poised at the edge of the dance floor. “Can you hear the rhythm? One, two, three?”
“Mmhmm.” He nodded, swallowing hard when she stepped back against him. “Got it.” He shifted, hovering at her side, and hoping his heart wasn’t thumping in her ear like it felt like it had to be. “I think.”
Humming her amusement, she turned herself expertly into his arms and placed her left hand in his while she raised their right hands to her shoulder, fingers entwined. “Just start walking in time with the music.” She tapped a finger into his left palm. “Begin with your left.”
He took a breath and nodded. The dance was stately but leisurely, giving Erithon plenty of time to hear the next step whispered over Aitahea’s shoulder. She made it effortless, her body easy to follow, featherlight touches guiding his motions.
Good thing that was all he had time to focus on.
After a few minutes of mostly successful instruction, Aitahea uttered a warning about the impending partner change. Erithon swallowed hard, nodded, and next thing he knew, he was tripping over the shoes of an unfortunate noblewoman with what looked like an entire miniature thranta nest perched precariously on a tower of powdered curls. Thankfully, the exchange ended quickly and Erithon was relieved to have Aitahea guiding him once again.
“I didn’t think anyone in the whole Core was still powdering their hair,” the Jedi bubbled unexpectedly into his ear. He laughed a little too loud and swept her gratefully – though perhaps a little too enthusiastically – back into the progression. He liked this part best, he’d quickly discovered. The leader – his role apparent, though he might have disagreed technically – picked up their partner for a little lift and turn. Aitahea had warned him verbally the first time, but the second time he’d wrapped his hands around her waist he’d been too busy looking into her eyes and had missed the lift.
Erithon was determined. This round he got everything perfect: an effortless lift gave him a few moments to enjoy when her eyes widened and smile bloomed. If he put her down a second or two late, she didn’t seem to mind.
The song wasn’t quite through when Aitahea’s steps slowed, drifting out of the pattern. Erithon tensed, an arm already around her waist, and opened his mouth to ask if she was all right when she stumbled. He caught her easily; she was breathing much harder than one should be for a Jedi in fighting form – and the shadows beneath her eyes seemed suddenly more pronounced.
Alarm buzzed through him. “Are you okay?” She still had her feet under her, so he kept hold of one of her hands and curled the other arm securely around her waist. Just in case.
“Yes!” she exhaled quickly, leaning into him, and added a breathy laugh. “Perhaps we should get some air?”
“Here, come on.” Guiding her past guards in Organa livery, the terrace appeared mercifully empty while the festivities continued inside. Erithon led Aitahea to one of the benches by an elbow, easing her down first before sitting beside her, keenly aware of his now-empty arms. “Better?”
“Much, thank you,” she replied, swiping at her hairline with the back of one hand before she lifted her face to smile at him. “That was lovely. I’m so sorry it had to end that way, and so soon.”
“Me too.” He smiled, unexpectedly pleased with her response. “You learned that here, as a kid?”
She shifted, easing back against the stone. “Yes.” She glanced sidelong at him, a droll smile playing across her lips. “No doubt the Duke has already regaled with you with mortifying stories from my youth.”
“He didn’t get to that,” Erithon said with a roguish wink. “Not that I’d believe a word of it, of course.” Erithon frowned back at her, worry wrinkling his brow. “You look tired.”
She sighed noncommittally and closed her eyes, leaning back against the cool stone behind them. Underneath the surface flush, she was still pale, almost sallow. When she opened her eyes again, the glitter in them was past the dazzle of a party and looking almost feverish.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Erithon shifted uneasily as the silence stretched out, trying not to guess at her silence and just leave her some space to breathe.
“I am… carrying a burden.” She paused, twisting her fingers while she seemed to search for words. “I’m shielding several masters who were infected with a Force plague, standing between them and madness, perhaps worse. Even my own master…” She trailed off, staring into her hands, dropping them to rest open in her lap.
“Anything I can do?” He meant anything. He’d face down more Sith, however many it took to disengage her from this burden and give her some peace. Anything.
Aitahea looked at him with eyes suddenly glittering with tears; her expression nearly stopped his heart. Her voice was a whisper, her eyes dancing again. “Erithon…” Her focus shifted, gaze flickering past him just as Erithon himself caught the sound of approaching footfalls. He ground his teeth to keep from muttering the curse he caught grumbling in his throat, instead giving Aitahea a bemused grimace as he rose and offered her a hand.
The Jedi was a portrait of ethereal serenity again, eyes that only moments before had shone with desperate anguish had shuttered, hiding the woman who’d whispered his name like a plea, leaving only the Jedi, glorious as she was, incandescent but incomplete.
“Ah, Master Jedi, I’ve been hoping to track you down all evening. I’m Hallam Organa, head of House Organa’s diplomatic corps.” The broad fellow made a brief bow, then indicated his companion. “This is my younger, more handsome brother, Lew.”
Lew Organa gave his brother an indulgent look. “Please, Hallam. You do yourself an injustice.” His lips twitched. “Your age gives you a stately difference.”
“My lords, it’s an honor to make your acquaintance,” she replied, eyes crinkling with amusement, then turned to Erithon. “Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Erithon Zale of the Republic, commander of Havoc Squad.”
“Ah, the liberator of the Spears! What an opportunity, having our newest Paladins side by side, such fine company!” Hallam exclaimed, offering Erithon a deep bow that Lew also made. Erithon glanced at Aitahea, uncertain how to respond, and she inclined her head, giving him an encouraging smile. He copied the motion, appreciative but still a bit mystified by all the pomp and circumstance.
Rising, Hallam returned his attention pointedly to Aitahea. “Master Jedi, I’ve been told you’re seeking Master Sidonie Garen.”
She hovered close to Erithon’s side, her hand curled around his arm. “It’s urgent that I speak with Master Sidonie as soon as possible.”
“You just missed her, I’m afraid. She’s already left for the peace summit,” Hallam explained. “A peace summit on Alderaan! Imagine that!” He slapped his thigh, shaking his head incredulously at Lew, who nodded thoughtfully in response.
Erithon watched Aitahea’s lips thin almost imperceptibly, but the next moment she was tilting her head, tranquil and erudite. “Indeed. Can you put me in contact with her?” Erithon could feel her tensing, fingers tightening on his sleeve. Master Sidonie must be one of the infected Jedi masters she’d mentioned a few moments ago.
“I can call her, certainly.” Hallam flicked another glance at Erithon, considering. “The location of the summit is a secret for obvious reasons, but I’m sure she’d welcome your assistance. Meet us first thing tomorrow morning, diplomacy wing?”
He felt her shudder, but she nodded affirmation. “Thank you, my lord, the Council will be eager to hear any updates.”
~
Their shoulders brushed again and again as they walked, sending her heart skipping every time. He hadn’t let her go further than arm’s reach since she’d stumbled out of the dance progression, nor as they wandered back to their suites after finishing the stilted conversation with Hallam and Lew Organa.
She slowed, eyes flickering to the nearby door of his suite, then back across the hall to her own door before she turned to face him. “We’re here.”
“Right.” He caught up the hand she’d left lingering on his sleeve and offered one of those extraordinary lopsided smiles. “I’m glad we found each other again.”
She returned the expression with delight. “As am I. Thank you for…” She began the elaborate thank-you she’d begun contriving as they’d walked back to the guest wing, but when he reached up with his free hand, twining one of her loose curls around a finger, every word fled her all at once. The silence between her heartbeats was impossibly sustained, well more than enough time for him to notice her gaze lingering on his mouth. When he drew closer still and smoothed his thumb over the curve of her cheek, she lost track of them entirely.
“Do you think we’ll ever dream of each other again, like Taris?” he asked, low and earnest.
Some resolve she’d fashioned in the wake of their dearly-won victory, Yuon’s coy encouragement, and the bravado of familiar surroundings fractured at his innocent question. The connection that often lingered after healing blazed with unfamiliar sensations that she hadn’t the strength to unravel now. Even without the physical contact, even with all her practiced resolve and Jedi training, his emotions wound around and through her, as impossible for her to ignore or deny as a starship could the pull of a gravity well. Waiting for her answer had allowed him plenty of time to sweetly tilt her face up to his.
With an austere resolve she was distantly surprised to find intact, she pressed a hand to his chest, where not long ago she’d smoothed her palm over his bare skin in the wake of the most desperate healing she’d ever undertaken. Aitahea answered, her whisper breaking on a last fragment of jagged verity: “I never stopped.”
She closed her eyes against the onslaught of overwhelming, unshielded, achingly reciprocated need, and pushed him away. She bit down hard on the soft sound of loss that threatened to escape her throat when he jolted back, the sudden distress and regret that tolled through her – no, him – no. Through them both. She struggled to inhale a tremulous breath.
When she could bear to open her eyes again, Erithon looked physically pained, his confusion and concern shearing through her own exhausted disappointment. He’d stepped back, hands open and empty, doubt beginning to tarnish the bright threads that had encircled them. “That was out of line, I’m sorry.”
“No, I was… You – I’m not –” Aitahea pressed her lips together hard to keep them from trembling, but it couldn’t stop the stinging in her eyes, the ache in her chest. “I’m sorry.”
“No. No.” He shook his head, vehement. “Don’t be. Please.” Erithon hesitated, trying to work up a friendly grin in contrast to his stiff posture, but only managed a wan quirk of his lips. “I told you on Taris that we’d do something better.”
She exhaled in a rush and allowed a smile to flutter across her face. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Yes, you did. Thank you.” Better! It was wonderful. Too wonderful. I never wanted to stop. We should have finished the song. “I should… retire for the night… if I’m to pick up Master Sidonie’s trail tomorrow.” She glanced toward her door, promising the solace of isolation and hopefully sleep. She was exhausted, utterly, but couldn’t resist one last watery smile. “Thank you, Erithon.”
His usual ebullient charm at least marginally recovered, he offered her a bow as crisp and practiced as any noble in the castle. “Goodnight, Aitahea.”
~
Aitahea waited for the door lock to engage before she sank back against it, hands over her face, about to release the pent-up sob clawing at the back of her throat.
On the suite’s balcony, Qyzen Fess shifted carefully but deliberately, his armor creaking in the silence. The door rattled noisily as she flattened against it in disbelief, reaching for a lightsaber that was not there. Of course not.
“Apologize if I startle you, Herald.”
Disquieted by her own panic, Aitahea bit back an uncharacteristically sharp retort, closing her eyes to draw a calming breath in its place. After releasing it, Aitahea raised a carefully neutral face to her friend. “I’m sorry, Qyzen, I wasn’t expecting you. Well done, you successfully snuck up on a Jedi.”
“Was not aware of such challenge.”
She sighed. “An attempt at a joke, Qyzen. A failed attempt, apparently. To add to the rest I’ve made this mission.” Aitahea sank gratefully into an overstuffed chair, letting the beautiful but unfamiliar shoes slip off her suddenly aching feet. “What changed your mind about the castle?”
“Mind not changed. Will return to ship after speaking.” Qyzen hovered near the balcony doors, clearly uncomfortable and anxious to depart. “Must see how Scorekeeper’s Herald fares.”
Aitahea tenaciously schooled her expression to serene but was unable to shake the tendrils of failure and regret that clung like shadows. “Tired, Qyzen. Thank you for checking.”
“Herald will rest.” Aitahea couldn’t decide if that was a question or suggestion, but either way, she agreed.
“Yes.”
AN: It's been such a journey to get here, to this chapter in particular that I’ve been imagining for such a long time. I’ve been stuck here since 2020; I’m so glad you’re still here with me. With us, I suppose. Enjoy. May the Force be with us all. Thank you.
Thank you to the ever-present, dependable, and brilliant Taraum for beta-reading.
Best Intentions *COMPLETE* Masterpost | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Bonus! Soundtrack @ Spotify
#swtor fanfic#swtor fanfiction#star wars the old republic#fanfiction#jedi consular#republic trooper#alderaan#adventure#romance#fluffy#oc: aitahea daviin#oc: erithon zale#erithon/aitahea#chapter 8#chapter eight#NEW CHAPTER#UPDATED
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More swallowed asks, I’m so glad I keep docs with the questions lol.
ANONYMOUS: Wow Victoria x Reiji sure have a lot of kids and they are all gorgeous! Any headcanons of their kids? What are their favorites and hobbies and how well do they get along with each other
And do they have a favorite uncle? I am really partial to Demetria I think.
I couldn’t help myself after I started figuring out how much Reiji wanted to top his father all ways possible. After the first 3, I ended up wanting more children… heh I guess he charmed me.
As for favorites... they are all special to me in some way, let’s say to each of my babies I have a special but different link that cannot be compared.
About their uncles, Reiji killed the triplets a long time ago, before Gin was born. So they never met them, in case that it seems strange that they’re not mentioned!
Here’s what they have to say about your question:
Hah I feel like you humans sometimes are interested in very trivial stuff… aren’t you?
Most of my free time is spent training and studying, even if it’s tough to keep up with a strict schedule, my parents don’t micromanage every minute of my day so… it feels nice. For a long time I was a prisoner, so most of my hobbies are simply habits of escapism where I put my mind away.
I like crafting bijouterie.My mother has been nurturing it for a while now, she goes out of her way to pick up the items I want.
The earring I wear is the first I made, I’ve always loved feathers.
As for my uncles… I… don’t know. Dmitri’s father, Shu, is a music teacher but I was never interested in learning, so we don’t talk.
Uncle Subaru is nice, he wasn’t too good at swordsmanship so Dmitri and I had to teach him. Despite being a weakling he has spirit, and he likes me to make bijouterie pieces for his little girl, so I’d say I get along with him the most.
When it comes to my siblings… Dianthe and Damien were always hard to get used to, up until they grew older I couldn’t really… “fit in”. When I returned to my parents I was an adult and there were two little kids I should call siblings?
I preferred to keep my distance and rebuild the relationship with my parents. The older they became the better they understood my space but they still feel like “classmates” or “roommates” more than siblings. I don’t particularly dislike them, Dianthe used to set my cape on fire whenever I accidentally made Damien cry… but gladly she grew out of that habit. Sadly she still nags me about my language… It’s irritating…
Dorian. Demetria and Dante always chased me around when they were young, and they still do when they need help… I guess they’re scared of Dianthe’s reaction so they use me as their shield. I think they’re nice, but Dorian and Demetria get in trouble on purpose often.
Dante and Damien are… a bit weird though, they’re so calm? I’m not saying I myself am annoying, but… it feels like they’re not even vampires. I think I prefer spending time with the rest of my siblings… those two make me feel like an oddball faster.
Hobbies… I believe this heavily depends on my mood.
When the weather and the atmosphere is peculiar, I enjoy writing poetry.
Our uncle, Shu, taught me how to play the violin and sometimes I play alongside Damien when our parents organize a ball at the mansion, I must say I find it pleasurable.
But… fufu ~ of course, there are things I learned to indulge in.
We were all home-schooled, however, we have a duty to attend high school as a way to keep a human cover. Humans are very interesting, what they call sins are things they are quick to indulge in with no hesitation… a little pull and I have a dog for weeks…
They quickly get greedy and want my attention for themselves… ~ And there is no better feeling than the tears of a heartbroken pet that couldn’t help but want more of me.
Ah… of course, this is a secret. My parents hold me in high regard when it comes to school behavior, trying to tell them that I’m bullying other students will get you killed ♥
About a favorite uncle, I certainly prefer uncle Shu. He is well cultured and knows quite a lot about music, he has never been mean to me or my siblings… despite clearly disliking my father. I am unaware of the tensions between them however I know it’s a centuries-old story. Because of this I never talk about it with my father, and to be sincere… I feel more comfortable talking to uncle Shu than I do with my own father…
No matter how much he says he loves his children, I can’t help but think he only sees us as… the product of him and my mother. It irritates me… even if perhaps that’s what parenthood is… I feel Shu-sama’s appreciation for us is far more sincere, and unconditional. Father also thinks he can control how we look and how we behave at all times… we are not his little toys for him to try and mold us to his taste! We are individuals.
Ah… I may have gotten carried away… I have a bad habit. I picked it up from both my parents… I just keep talking and talking about things that irritate me. Fufu… well it doesn't matter anymore.
For my siblings, I would appreciate it if they were all like Damien, well behaved, well mannered, able to follow the rules and quiet. However this is not the case.
Gin may have been excused by our parents, even spoiled in my honest opinion, but I believe he needs to be properly educated in how to address formal situations! Despite me heavily disliking the imposition of a mold to adapt to, I understand its importance. Gin could have some consideration and at least not make the whole family look weak! He rolls his eyes, does not stand straight and eats like a caveman!
I don’t care how much he says he was a soldier, a prisoner, and whatnot! He is not anymore, he’s a prince and he should behave as such!
Damien is the one I get along with the most. He’s adorable and always looked for me for help, he was always interested in learning etiquette, and everything my father and mother taught us. He was always a respectable part of our family and he is the cook at the mansion! Our father is still far more skilled, but Damien makes very nice… “homemade” looking food. It has a loving warmth to it… I love my little brother.
Dorian… he thinks he is so much better than everyone else… he keeps competing with me at everything and, of course… he fails miserably. He is a mediocre number 2 that does not realize that being royal is about meeting goals, not just being born it. I would burn his eyebrows off if our parents weren’t so keen on reminding us not to fight. Despite this fact, he is quite the skilled dancer and always stands at parties, I am below average at this, and that is the only thing he’s allowed to win at.
His vanity will catch up to him one day, however. My mother has always expressed her concern about Dorian’s extravagant behavior, she believes he will be one day shot down from the skies and he’ll fall deep, and if anyone is to be believed… that is my mother. She knows how vampires are… or perhaps, Dorian has a bit of my father in him.
Demetria is quite the impressive lady, she meets all expectations… but she doesn’t talk to me much. As her older sister I have always offered my help, but she is… cold. Most of the time I can’t tell what’s going through her mind.
And our baby boy Dante… he was always a sick child. He was so weak when he was born that our mother decided to curse herself to not bear any more children. I know the word “curse” sounds strong… but worry not, she merely magically sterilized herself, it is a “curse” because it is irreversible.
Anyhow, Dante is the weakest among us and we all feel generally protective of him. However, I suspect there may be more to him than just… weakness. You see, Dante is usually calm and… quite tolerant, but when enraged… even I have trembled at the sensation of his aura. I think Dante may have explosive powers that he is unaware of… so I keep a good eye on him, we do not want his overwhelming power to hurt his weaker body. Despite that… he really is a brat, he likes to mock my manners as if I was some grandma roaming the mansion, and that is quite irritating! I know he is having fun whilst teasing me, but can’t he shut up for one millisecond as I talk to my mother?!
Hm… Ah… I have spoken for so long that my throat feels dry… You should be paying for this, you know? I have given you such a thorough explanation… blood is the least you should be offering right now.
Oh good evening, that is an interesting question. I always enjoyed gardening, the castle has many different types of flowers, even flowers you won’t believe existed are in underground hidden gardens, so I can confidently say that is my hobby.
I keep a diary where I draw each flower and study its properties. Being sincere, my father gives me the details since I personally am not fond of chemistry.
I also enjoy making bouquets for decor when there are parties at the mansion or as gifts, Aurora enjoys them a lot.
I don’t think I have a favorite uncle, both of them are nice to me.
As for my siblings, hm… —he sighs— I wish they weren’t so closed about their feelings. Dante and I agree that half of their problems are because they don’t admit how they feel.
Gin is very distant… We don't know what really happened to him before he attacked the castle years ago, and when I tried asking I got punched in the face haha… —he scratches the side of his face, smiling awkwardly — He apologized so many times afterwards, I’ve lost count of it. I learned not to ask about that. My older sister Dianthe is always treating me like I am her baby, and always pretends everything is okay, but I think something about Dorian and Demetria wanting to be the next head of the family is bothering her. She doesn’t talk about it and keeps acting like she is the eldest and in charge… but I think she’s having a hard time, she should realize how much of a perfect fit for a queen she is.
She’s a really gentle person… She may have some really weird hobbies… but I think deep down Dianthe is a kind soul, like our parents.
Dorian and Demetria both keep competing with Dianthe because they see her excel at so many things, that they feel like they’re less than her. They simply are insecure and they crave attention. I have to keep an eye on the kitchen or they’ll try to cook and blow it up… Our father is very sensible about the kitchen so I have to guard it.
I think Dorian and Demetria will have the hardest time coping with immortality… I sincerely worry but they don’t listen to me! They think that because I’m soft spoken I’m simply weak… —he sighs again.
Dante is usually quiet and I would say he is the most healthy mentally. However, he has some anger issues… whenever he is extremely angry his aura will rise… I never saw Gin and Dianthe scared before… so I’m aware they felt like not even them could handle Dante’s power. I worry about him since he is very frail, I’ve seen our father check on Dante’s physical condition regularly.
If he gets injured he takes longer to regenerate, he doesn’t drink live blood… he drinks donated blood from a plastic bag. I can understand how disturbing it is that we have to sink our fangs and hurt someone to feed… but… I worry he is deteriorating his state… He’s not interested in relationships so the chances of him having someone personally feed him are low as long as he does this.
He’s nice… he always keeps Dorian and Demetria in line by calling their attention or advising them. Despite being the youngest, he acts like he’s older than those two troublemakers.
We often find ourselves shaking our heads at the behavior of our siblings, I think he understands me the most, although I don’t think I understand him fully.
I hope to have answered all of your questions.
Usually I would request for you to be on all fours and kiss my boots before you try to get any personal detail from me… but out of whim, I will be lenient. Just know that the rest of my pets won’t like you and… if they bite you, I won’t take any responsibility —he fixes himself on the sofa, legs spread in a relaxed manner — Anyway… what were you asking me about? Ah yes yes… Well I enjoy creating poisons. My father expanded on this with other types of chemicals… but I just like the good old slow burn of death… of course, I was prohibited from killing animals and people on purpose… so I simply focused on antidotes as well.
I don’t use them often however, they’re harder to make than you’d think.
As for my siblings… they’re unavoidable and a nuisance. Dante is extremely creepy with his aura bursts and Dianthe keeps nagging, I could do without them, but if I had to choose the least of nuisances I would say Dante is good enough. The older three have a tendency to exert authority over the rest of us and I am frankly not a fan.
When it comes to a favorite uncle I of course have none, the only reason they are around in the first place is thanks to my mother’s incomprehensible kindness and my father’s loyalty to her will. Whenever they visit I rather spend my precious yet limited time somewhere else.
Well, what are you waiting for? Either bow down to me or leave, I have plenty of hungry pets to discipline already so don’t waste my time.
Your favorite, huh ~ I am not surprised. After all, who wouldn’t fall for my charms ;)
Anyway, let’s paint a clearer image of myself for you, shall we? In my free time I like to design BDSM instruments and sextoys… fufu~ Humans rarely ever openly embrace their sinful nature, but beasts like us shamelessly embrace our darkest thoughts in a “heartbeat”.
As for my siblings… I wish Dianthe didn’t exist. She thinks she’s special and every time I get to impress our parents she shows up, almost like she has a timer set for it.
Her facade sickens me… one small poke at her and she will blow up and drop her “perfect princess” mask. Yet our parents think she is deserving of the crown?! She does not have true manners if all of her manners are fake!
Anyway… Gin is quite the brute… and Dorian gets on everyone's nerves quite fast. He is the reason we are all afraid of our mother in the first place, he has managed to somehow make her furious once. That day we knew she could kill us if we defied the crown.
Dante is… —her lips curl into a soft smile— while he is a bit younger than me he has always behaved like my older brother. He helped me whenever I struggled, and he always tells me I’m good enough.
About my uncles, there is not much to say about them is it? I am not interested in the non-royal side of the family.
Hobbies...I love videogames, and I have a favorite character that I love and cherish. I also enjoy streaming and speedrunning some games, sometimes my mother joins in for some quality content.
With the exception of my mother, I think my entire family is crazy… I don’t hate them though, I think they’re cool. But… they’re weird.
Uncle Shu is always donating to my streams, he’s really supportive. Despite his and father’s terrible relationship, he seems to be willing to stay a family figure for all of us.
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Wave 3 Operetta Diary
July the Twenty-fifth
Hey Fynn! I’m going to keep a diary. I’ll send it to you when school starts and you can read about my adventures...if I have any. I sure wish you’d join the modern monster world and get yourself a computer or at least an iCoffin so we could exchange email or texts. Having to send everything by ghost post seems like it takes forever, not that we don’t have it, but you get my drift. Anyway, the morning after the going away party y’all threw for us - which was clean outta fright - we caught a scream boat and headed up river to the “home of the boos”. I talked daddy and mama into lettin’ me go see the ghost of “you know who”. Daddy kinda rolled his eyes and said okay - betcha if it was a bunch of them old opera harpies all wearing helmets with horns sticking out he’d a jumped up and clicked his heels. At least he didn’t say no and I could smell the fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches before I got there. Turns out there was a jam session and I hadn’t seen that many singers and players gathered in one spot since the day the music died. They even let me sit in with them on a set. I had to promise not to sing though. Must’ve heard what happened down in Terrorbone Parish I reckon. During the jam I used that new lick you taught me and even that big ol’ werewolf guitar player you like so much howled and said, “Oh Red, I’m gonna be singing the blues if you don’t teach me that.” I told him I could show him but I couldn’t teach him. For that he needed to come find you. I was sad to leave but daddy wanted to head east so he could go check out some old opera house that was supposed to be grand. Turns out I enjoyed it more that he did since they weren’t exactly performing the kind of music he expected :)
July the Twenty-seventh
How did we get to the new opera house? Well there’s this underground train that somehow connects to the catacombs below Monster High. That’s where the opera house is, not in Monster High but under it. I actually met a group of ghouls from Monster High at one of the stations while we were waiting to change trains. They were all on the MH Fear Squad and were headed to some kind of competition or training or something. I didn’t really understand it all but they all seemed very nice although the captain of the team was a bit high and mighty for my taste. Got to go now, sorry so short.
August the First
We have mostly settled in although we still got some unpacking left to do. My guitars all made the trip just fine too. I was worried but I guess I shouldn’t have been. Those cases you gave me protected everything just like you said they would. The opera house is in pretty ghoul shape although there hasn’t been a production done here in many years. I reckon that’s why we’re here, well at least why daddy and mama are here. It’s a whole bunch different from the riverboat opera house though. This one has a big ole pipe organ that sounds like a whole fleet of riverboats coming down the “big muddy”. Of course the first thing daddy did was hop on that thing and play Toccata and Fugue in D minor...who didn’t see that coming? Later on I lugged my amp out to the middle of stage, plugged her in and played a little riff that lasted long enough for daddy to come running in and tell me to stop polluting his opera house with “that noise”. Whatever. I didn’t feel like arguing although I did finally quote that thing you quoted to me - “There’s only two kinds of music. Good music and the other kind.” To which daddy said, “Yes and I would have you play the other kind somewhere else.” Reckon I should have seen that coming too. I’m sure in no time though daddy will have this place snoring with “good music”. ;p
August the Seventh
I explored the catacombs a little more today. A ghoul could seriously get lost down there if she wasn’t paying attention. It’s like there’s a passages that go every which a way. Some just dead end and others seem like they go on forever. Some of the things I discovered are:
- An underground lake with a big island in the middle that has an old castle on it
- A passage that leads from the zombie side of town straight up to Monster High
- Lots of rooms and halls blocked by doors that you need some kind of key to get past.
I also found, or I guess I should say Memphis found, my new practice room/recording studio! I would have totally missed it because it just looked like a crack in the wall to me but Memphis must have sensed something though ‘cause he shimmied through that crack quick as a gnat’s sneeze. Before I knew it, a section of what had just looked like part of the catacombs wall swung open like a door and there was Memphis hanging upside down by a thread with a big fly-eatin’ grin on his face. The walls inside were covered by some kind of moss, not like the stuff that hangs off the cypress trees back home, but more like a soft carpet and it lights up! How creepy sweet is that? I have no idea what the room was originally used for but there are power outlets on one wall and a big table in the middle. Memphis and me brought all our equipment down here, cranked everything up and just went to town! You want to know what the best part is? When the door is shut you can be standing with you ear pressed right up against it and still not hear what’s going on inside. I don’t think I’ve ever had a place where I could play and sing without worrying about who might be listening. Maybe moving here won’t be so bad after all.
August the Eighteenth
Yes I have gotten out of the catacombs and my new recording studio to check out the town although I probably wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t needed to get some new strings. I ended up at the Maul - they’ve got a pretty good music store and some shops where I might actually find some clothes I like but you know me - I spent most of my time in the music store. They have a scary slick selection of guitars - nothin’ like you’ve made for me of course but I played a few anyway cause they just looked so sad hanging up there on the wall all by their lonesome. I was just kinda picking a little bit when I got the feeling some monster was watching me. I turned around and sure enough there was this little frizzy haired werewolf staring at me. Now you’d be proud of me cause you know normally I don’t like being interrupted when I’m playing but there was just somethin’ about her that made me call her over. I asked, “Ain’t you never seen a monster play guitar before?”
“Not like you,” she said.
“Good answer ghoul friend.” Her name was Howleen and after I played some more she asked if I would teach her. I put the guitar back on its stand and looked at her for a minute. “Why do you want to learn to play guitar?” She sorta shrugged a little and said, “I guess because no other monster I know plays guitar.” I shook my head and told her that from the time I was a little ghoul all I’ve ever wanted to do was play and sing. “If I’m not actually playing or practicing I’m thinking about playing or practicing and if you took lessons from me I’d expect you to be the same way.” I knew she wasn’t ready for that. I did show her a few chords though and she actually caught on scary quick. She’s got long fingers and good ears. I told her that she ought to sign up for lessons with one of the music store’s guitar creatures and when she had learned everything they had to teach her to come and see me. She screamed all right with that and the music store even threw me in a set of free strings for getting Howleen to sign up with one of their instructors. Who knows, maybe she’ll end up loving to play as much as I do...hey...I said maybe didn’t I?
August the Twenty-fifth
Monster High ain’t like our one room ghoul house back on the delta. I got a chance to really check it out today after Headless Headmistress Bloodgood sent daddy and mama a note asking if they would send me up to see her. So I made my way up from the opera house to her office and introduced myself. She seemed very prim and proper and I was wondering how long it’d be before I’d have a special seat with my name on it outside her office. She told me shad had just been going through my records from the school back home and that she was pleased to have me as a student at Monster High. She also said, “I will expect excellence from you and neither shoddy work nor laziness will be tolerated or rewarded.” I said I reckon I expected the same from myself as long as she didn’t expect me to be the same kind of formal phantoms as my daddy and mama or to back down every time some monster said “boo” to me cause that ain’t who I am! I sat back and crossed my arms cause I expected she was going to give me a lecture on rules and manners and obligations to our monter legacy but instead she just kinda leaned forward a little, put her head in her hands and said, “I understand your father’s performances have been known to bring down the house, but I’ll expect you to blow the roof off this sucker.” Right then and there you could have knocked me over with skeeter’s wing. Monster High may turn out to be a place where every monster has to play off the same sheet music.
August the Thirty-first
Hey Fynn! There was a dandy meteor shower last night. I took that cypress body acoustic you made for me and went down to the beach. I pretended that they sky was a sheet of music and each shooting star that fell was a single note. I played until my fingers gave out and then I just sat back and enjoyed the show. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to keep up with my diary once school starts but I want you to know that even if I’m not glad all over I think I’m going to like it here just fine.
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Crowned by the devil - ch. 11
Summary: the next part of the experiment has arrived and you still have to deal with your thoughts about Kylo.
Warnings: smut and mention to slavery
A/N: hey guys, hope you are all doing fine!
Once again I’m late to post a chapter and I am really sorry, I’m trying to post weekly, but life gets in the way, thank u all for being patient.
Hope you guys like it
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Getting out of bed knowing that you would have to start preparing for the next phase of the damn experiment you had yourself into was already hard. But after spending all night having your inconscient fighting to decide how you felt towards Kylo, waking up felt like a punishment.
Unfortunately, you knew that staying in wasn’t an option. If you weren’t ready by the time Cardo got you for your meeting with Lieutenant Micata - Nitaka or whatever his name was -, he would drag your ass off of bed and force you to get ready as quick as possible and that didn’t really seem like a very pleasant idea as well.
And so you forced yourself off of the bed’s warm embrace to get ready for whatever was coming your way. As you showered, dressed yourself up in the same black clothes you always wore and brushed your hair and teeth, you did your absolute best to keep Kylo and your dreams in the back of your head, Ushar’s words still bothering you.
Luckly, you finished your routine just as Cardo opened the door, not even considering knocking before invading your personal space - as usual -.
“Ready’, troublemaker?” his lighted toned voice echoed through the room as you got out of the bathroom.
“Come on, Cardo, can’t you fucking knock? I could be naked, you know that?” you ignored his question purposely, trying to buy yourself some time, not really interested in meeting Shitake.
“Shit, that would definitely burn my eyes.” he started faking a thoughtful face “Better knock next time. Too bad I won’t” he faked a smile.
“You are an insufferable asshole” you threw your hands up in the air as a giving up gesture.
“Now that it’s all settled, get your ass moving, troublemaker” Cardo said before walking out the door, not waiting for you to follow him.
You followed the knight for the endless pristine and all the same halls, not really paying attention to anything, you had given up trying to understand the endless ship you had been living in for quite a while now. Eventually, he stopped in front of a meeting hall which seemed to be the same as every other room in the ship: monochromatic walls, floor and furniture.
Cardo left you behind with a pat on your shoulder as you entered the space taking a look around.
At the end of the gigantic black table you could see the man you would be spending the rest of your day with. He was an average sized man with dark hair and eyes and skin tone a little bit darker than Kylo’s. By his facial features, you could see that he was insecure and apprehensive with the meeting or with your presence, maybe both.
“Miss y/n” you heard his insecure voice tone as he got up trying to be respectful. That was already a change when compared with the other officers' attitudes - specially Hux’s - and that made you decide that you would like him.
“Just y/n, no need for formalities” you said doing the best you could to be kind to him “Lieutenant …” you kept quiet waiting for him to say the name you hadn’t bothered to learn.
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You sipped on the caf cup as you listened to Mitaka describe what the two of you would be doing together for the next week. Apparently, the council of dicks which helped Kylo decide things about the First Order policies and actions wanted to see how the contestants to be Empress could develop a plan and talk about politics.
You were completely fucked, you thought to yourself as Mitaka spoke, clearly more comfortable with your presence now. You never had the time to care about politics, since you were too worried trying to survive all the things life had thrown your way. You were also pretty aware that you were far from being what they wanted their ruler to be.
“So I came up with some options for you to develop your politics plan about” Mitaka’s words brought your attention back to the room and you nod as a way to tell him to keep on talking. “There was a recent rebellion on Naboo and we could develop the reasons for why it happened and how to keep the planet under the First Order’s control. I also thought of doing something around the topic of what the Empire failed to accomplish and the reasons that ultimately caused its fall and how we can, as a whole, do better”.
As he spoke, you could see that he was passionate in what he worked with and that he really wanted the best for the Order.
You, on the other hand, didn’t know anything about both topics nor had any interest in them, they just didn’t speak to your soul, if you presented them, you would be presenting a lie and perhaps that might just be what the council would like to see, but you had never lied to please a bunch of disgusting men and you weren’t about to start now.
“Mitaka, I’m sorry to interrupt you.” you started trying to keep a sweet tone, not looking forward to hurting his feelings. “But these themes have nothing to do with me. I never went to a formal school nor did I have the time to learn and talk about politics. Sure I have my opinions, but I was too busy trying to stay alive, you know?”
He nodded and, on the contrary of what you had expected, there was no disappointment in his features, if anything, the young man seemed almost inspired by your words.
“I understand. Can we stop for an hour?” he asked you and before you could even say a ‘yes’ he was out the door.
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You walked through the halls without having any idea where you were or where you were going, you just allowed your feet to walk in whatever direction they desired.
“Troublemaker” you heard Cardo calling you and your feet automatically stopped.
Turning around, you could see that he wasn’t alone, Trudgen was with him, eyes trained on you just like Cardo’s.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in a meeting. Have you killed Mitaka?” he asked you, his tone showing that he was indeed worried that you might have killed the lieutenant.
“He needed a break to think about something he didn’t tell me about. So I’m just getting some exercise done” you answered, shrugging.
“Do you even know where you are?” Trudgen finally said something, his lips on a smirk. Stars, why was he so annoying?
“That’s classified information” the answer left your mouth causing Cardo to laugh.
“Come on, troublemaker, let’s get your ass back to the meeting room”.
“I don’t know why Kylo thought it was a good idea to drag my ass into this” you mumbled, head supported by both of your hands as you looked at the knights trying to get some explanation to their master’s act.
“Oh hottie, Master Ren doesn’t fit in this organization as well, neither do us” Trudgen started, for the first time since you met him, being serious. “We are all here because we know how to fight our way in and that’s why he chose you, because you fought your way out of slavery and into this experiment” he pointed his index finger at you.
As you looked to Cardo, you knew that it was true and, well, if Kylo got to the position of Supreme Leader being just the way he was, you could do whatever those stupid men expected you to.
“Guess I’ll find a way to do this stupid presentation” you whispered, still not that confident.
“That’s it, troublemaker, don’t give up just yet” Cardo tried to get your spirits up and it caused a slight smile to crack on your features.
The talk was interrupted by Mitaka, he walked into the meeting room with his arms filled with paper and archives and you got up to help the man, since it seemed like he was about to be buried by them all.
As you took half of the pile of his hands, his face finally became visible and you could see a thankful smile as he tried to reach the table. With the new amount of things now in your hands, you walked to the place you had been previously sat at.
“You can do this” Cardo said before walking at the door with his companion knight, leaving you, the endless pile of paper and Mitaka behind.
“Okay, Mitaka, what is this all about?” you asked, sitting on the chair once again and getting mentally ready for his new ideas.
“So I re-read your file trying to get a better insight on things that you could really relate to, when this brilliant idea came up to me. Are you ready?” Mitaka asked, his eyes glimmering with excitement as each word left his mouth and you nod, starting to feel excited for his presentation as well. “I was thinking to present about why the First Order should abbolish slavery in the planets we rule ''.
The words went straight to your heart and you had to do your best to avoid tears from falling, the idea hadn’t come to your mind because you had never thought that anyone with enough money and power could ever care about people like you. And the realization that you might be able to do something to change the reality of millions all around the Galaxy lighted a fire inside that you never knew existed.
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You were in the tub chilling when you heard someone opening the door and, if it weren’t for the heavy footsteps you were now so used to, you would be probably frightened to death.
“Knights don’t know how to fucking knock?” you shouted, playing with the bubbles covering your body.
“This is my ship” he replied nonchalantly as he started to take off the incredible amount of layers covering his body.
“Okay, not in the mood” you whispered to yourself, already starting to make room for his enormous figure in the tub.
You watched as he got naked in all his glory, every inch of his perfect and toned body in display for you to admire.
In no time, he was in the tub with you, his thighs touching yours as you both stared into each other's eyes, silence winning in the end.
Slowly, his hand started to travel away from his body, touching your calf at first, his eyes never leaving yours. He massaged the skin before going up, calloused hands used to cause so much pain and death now gently pressing your skin, looking forward to giving you pleasure.
He kept his torturous pace while touching his way up your cunt, playing with your skin, tempting it with his small nails and thick fingers, building up the lust inside of you as his eyes showed you that he was enjoying it just as much as you.
You found it funny how much pleasure Kylo could find in giving you pleasure once you had associated selfishness with his image, never expecting that you would me defenceless to his touches.
He dragged the moment even further, testing your resilience, dying to know if you would give into your carnal needs and beg for his touch you were certain, but you were just as tough as the knight and you were not going to let him win this round.
Eventually, after teasing your inner thighs for what seemed like forever, Kylo gave up the unannounced battle going in between the two of you, exploring your folds with his index finger.
The attitude caused a silent moan to leave your mouth, which stayed open. You felt as he dragged the tip of his finger up and down, pressing your clit ever so lightly whenever it touched his finger and teasing your whole with the same strategy.
Despite his efforts, however, your eyes kept glued to his, watching the hunger and yet determination engraved in them as need started to fill up your brain and fog your will to win.
It took you by surprise when Ren finally gave your sore nub the deserved attention and a loud groan left your lips, echoing through the bathroom as if mocking just how bad you craved and was affected by his touch. You knew that it was a win to him as well and the smirk on his perfect face shouted loud and clear for you to listen.
Before you could recover, Kylo started to move his finger, rubbing your clit with the right amount of pressure, sending shivers down your spine and fire through your veins. Your inner walls clenched around nothing begging to be touched, reminding you how good it felt when he filled you up with his thick and big cock and it made you aware of just how easily he could win this battle over your body.
He continued with his pace, a pace that was enough to bring you some release, but not the ultimate release that you craved. Not to make you squirm and scream under his ministrations, not to make your legs tremble as you forgot your name. And it drove you mad, because he was making clear to you that it would never hit you if you didn’t beg for it.
You tried to stand your ground, focusing on your warrior side, but he knew your body too well and as you felt the rhythm become quicker, taking you too near the edge, you gave up. Your eyes left his, as your head fell back and the words left your mouth: “Enough, Kylo, you won”.
As soon as you declared your loss, he picked up the pace, trading his index finger for his thumb as two of his fingers met your whole, breaking the resistance it offered and quickly filling you up, massaging your walls that clenched as a thank you and lightly touching the inner spot that caused you to see stars.
You felt as they curled inside of you making you moan and as they left you, before being pushed into you once more, keeping up with the pace that his thumb dictated, making sure that you could experience and enjoy the sensations he gave you.
You knew what he was doing, he was showing you that he owned your body, he was making clear that you couldn’t fight him and the worst part was that, despite your brain shouting that you couldn’t give into it, your every cell betrayed you, telling it to shut up, because Kylo could please you and give you things that no one ever could.
It didn’t take too long for your body to explode in pleasure, his fingers teasing your cunt as his thumb teased your clit became too much too quickly and you did just what he wanted. You screamed his name, you trembled, you milked his fingers and spilled your release on them as you grabbed his arm trying to find support.
You were definitely fucked.
#crowned by the devil#kylo ren#kylo x reader#kylo ren x you#kylo ren x reader#kylo x you#knights of ren#supreme leader kylo ren#star wars#cardo#trudgen#adam driver#first order
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Even more unsolicited resume advice
Corona has probably hit a lot of people hard and it has been a tough time for everyone, especially people who just left college to enter the work force or have been out of a job and had been looking to get back into the force. While this might not solve much, I want to provide some additional advice piggy-backing off a previous post.
<Previous Resume Advice Post>
Again, Your Mileage May Vary (YMMV) since this is entirely subjective and very US-centric. A lot of the resumes that come across my desk are for specialized jobs and higher-levels, so I’ve had a bit of a disconnect with entry-level and recent grad-level resumes. Regardless, I still want to help answer some questions that people have and hopefully give a bit of a push to help you into the jobs you want.
There’s more of this sort of stuff under the tag: ‘adult drivels’.
"What do I write for my Objectives/Summary of Qualifications?"
To be very honest, I only ever see Objectives from people trying to switch careers or from internship/entry-level resumes. At least 98% of the time, we know what your objective is. It's money. I don't care if the objective is to help save the world--believe me, I've seen enough resumes that say something along those lines (worked at a place that kind of championed that and boy is the reality nasty).
Anyway. Write a short paragraph (usually 2-3 sentences, but no longer than a full paragraph) about your skillset. Give me enough detail to want to read the rest of your resume.
Examples:
Finance student with 2 years volunteer experience in business accounting, correspondences with the Federal Reserve, and federal financial law. Specializes in XYZ, etc.
I couldn't make this any more detailed, but you get the gist of it. If not, here's another one.
Recent college graduate with experience in freelance computer repairs for Windows, Mac, and RedHat Linux. Customer-oriented from # years in customer service, and willing to learn new things especially more about network infrastructure and engineering. Currently studying to pass Network and looking to pass Security+ within the next year.
This is just a personal nitpick, but be careful with very subjective character traits like ‘loyal’ or ‘hard-working’ or ‘effective leader’. Anyone can put that on a resume, but I need you to prove it in your resume. Some industries like this sort of self-description/self-evaluation, but I really don’t trust when people write that stuff down.
(Ex. Someone wrote they were detail-orientated and their resume was littered with typos. Mm, don’t trust like that.)
"I don't know what to write for my job experience. I don't have sales numbers or percentages like these websites are telling me."
You do. You have them, just not consciously.
You worked at Starbucks and trained newcomers? Fine.
"Trained ## new hires on all store procedures, safety, and customer service, and one was promoted to store manager with # months/one new hire won Employee of the Month/and I received formal recognition from corporate."
Or
"Created new training plan/procedures/whatever and implemented it over the course of # months, reducing the time needed for training and increasing effectiveness."
Didn't work at Starbucks? Just joined a club and helped organize a bake sale? Cool.
"Sold $# worth of merchandise for [school club] [sale] which contributed to #% increase in funding for the year's activities, allowing the club to do XYZ.
Don't have the percentage? Do a reasonable guess, or ask. Or just say it helped you guys earn your field trip to wherever. Whatever it helped do.
Didn’t do anything involving cash or numbers? No problem.
“Tutored # students at least # times a week in [subject], working with them using different teaching methods such as [example] and [example]; # students were able to pass their courses with satisfactory grades (insert grades somewhere, if you’re proud of that).”
The point is: [Action] --> [Result].
What did you do, specifically? And what was the direct result? That’s what I’m looking for.
“But I’ve never held a job. This’ll be my first one. How do I write my resume?”
That’s always tough. In this case, you’ll have to play on anything you do have. Volunteer work, school activities, extracurricular activities, personal projects, awards, personal achievements, etc. Sometimes people go for a skills-oriented resume which I don’t actually see a lot.
Basically, standard resumes have your regular stuff:
Personal Information
Summary of Qualifications/Objectives
Education
Job Experiences in chronological order
Extracurricular Activities
Skills
Awards/Certifications
Whatever else
A skills based resume usually replaces the ‘Jobs’ section with a huge-ass ‘Skills Set’ section which contains several main skills you want to highlight for the job and examples of how you demonstrated these skills.
Communication
- Corresponded and tutored students struggling in [subject] class, restructuring and explaining lessons using easy-to-understand anecdotes, resulting in students passing the class with scores of no less than a B. (This is lengthy as fuck, but you get the idea.)
- Successfully led one 24-person raid a month for 2 years in an online game where quick and clear communication and timing was vital.
So, that but multiple times until it fills out your resume.
This goes against my personal opinion about subjective traits, but if it works, it works.
“Anything else?”
I turn my entire Word document into a table for formatting and then just hide all borders when I’m done.
Always, always export to PDF and do a test print. You never know how it’ll look on someone else’s screen or program. (Especially if you have LibreOffice or something, that really messed up the formatting sometimes.)
I kind of like Google’s resumes, the one they have in Google doc templates.
To make different things stand out, I mess with fonts. Like sans serif for section titles and with serif for body text. Sometimes I just start going nuts with them, but not too nuts because again, it might not be a font on someone else’s computer.
To test the visual appeal of my resume, I’d usually print it out, paste it on a wall, walk away, turn around, and try to see if I can spot my name and the different section breaks instantly from a distance. If I can’t, I know I fucked up. If I can, great, formatting is clean. One thing I hate as an interviewer is searching through walls of text for important info or section breaks.
If you can, only submit as PDF. I swear, half the time, the Word doc gets mangled by the application platform that people send them through (you know, the automatic uploading thing?) It had definitely cost a few good candidates a job simply because the program mangled the resume’s formatting.
Following these steps still won’t necessarily get you the job. This is cruel, but reality. It could be your resume. It could be just because the role is meant for someone else with a different skillset. It’s not personal. You have to keep trying.
For the last time, TAILOR, TAILOR, TAILOR. You’re fighting with about 30 other people who have put in a hell of a lot of effort to get jobs. They also want the job and have been searching just as long or longer than you. You have to give yourself an edge by not blasting a generic version of your resume at the recruiter. That’s wasting our time and your own time.
Again, all of these opinions are my own and should be taken with a handful of salt and two handfuls of personal judgement.
Good luck on your searches and may the job you want be yours.
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The Shitstorm That Is TS:IM and IM2020: The Allegory of Nothing
4 / 4. We’re here.
The writers don’t know what artificial intelligence is.
1 2 3
Let’s go back to the beginning. Jocasta is the robotics ethicist of Stark Unlimited. The company has adopted a system wherein the automated employees are in a non-hierarchical environment. Tasks are “suggested, not ordered.”
And guess what that does? Well, when these employees are needed, this happens:
The majority of them are non-compliant. And what’s the solution to this?
Apparently, give them a phat beat for Tony to kick Fin Fang Foom’s ass to. That’s what Andy Bhang decided to do, but only after following the “proper ethical protocol” when speaking to Jocasta. Which is... saying “please.”
Because, you know, saying things like, “Hey, I need you to do [whatever the fuck]” when a giant dragon is laying siege to your city is... oppressive, I guess. It doesn’t matter that that’s how humans tend to talk to other humans in emergencies, because Jocasta’s a robot ethicist and a functioning AI, and this "proper ethical protocol” is to slow things down with formalities instead of allowing everyone to treat each other like individuals.
By all means, continue to buffer the solution so everyone can say “please.” It’s only Tony who’s out there fighting a giant monster.
I actually like Jocasta. I think she’s a good character in most of the media she appears in. But here? Well, here, everyone is shitty.
It’s glaringly obvious that the goal here isn’t robot... equality. These sentient machines are just free rein. Sure, they work for Stark Unlimited. Sure, they’re employees... but they actually don’t have to do any work, like, ever, unless they want to.
So, they’re obviously not being treated like human beings. They’re practically high-tech babies, which is exactly how you want to present your oppressed group in your revolution plotline. Especially in this political climate! Hierarchy is most certainly oppressive! These robots can’t handle having real human jobs! They’re just so innocent and flawless.
...
And out of place.
Here’s the thing. Dan Slott... doesn’t really know what AI is. These little nano-suits that are coming in to help save the day have no reason to be sentient. Sure, they might be artificially intelligent, but sentient? No.
Artificial Intelligence refers to a computer science field that focuses on learning and problem-solving machines. These machines gather data and use this data later on in order to make decisions. If you use email, your spam filter is a result of AI. Our phones learn how we respond to certain messages (and pick up our diction even out of context) as a result of AI and machine learning.
Chatbots simulate human speech, often by using messages compiled from other humans. The more you talk to them, the more organically they’ll seem to respond. They recycle human messages and send them back.
Deep learning is a more specialized form of learning that more closely resembles how the human brain functions by organizing information in a non-linear fashion with interconnected neuron nodes. This is what leads to the sentience that’s seen in characters such as FRIDAY, and it’s very obviously not present in every machine with AI capabilities. In essence, artificial intelligence is not synonymous with sentience.
So... Why does TS:IM treat these concepts like they’re interchangeable? Why is it that the featured AI revolution is so dependent on the feelings of machines that have no chance of becoming sentient? Again, Tony’s nano-suits could be just that: nano-suits. There’s nothing saying that these suits have to be sentient. In fact, it’s worse if you consider them to be.
If all it takes for a machine to be considered a part of this AI revolution is some problem-solving, wouldn’t Tony’s actual suits also be considered AI? They have autopilot, don’t they? They avoid obstacles. The HUD provides useful information regardless of whether or not a character AI is residing in the suit.
For example, here’s a scene wherein some researchers are doing a robot stability test with one of these lovable dog-like machines.
Now, I cringe when I see the poor guy get pushed down. But you know who doesn’t cringe? The dog-like robot, because the dog-like robot feels nothing. It’s a learning machine, but it is not a sentient being. Not even a loving heart emoji directed toward its robot savior.
Another example?
This right here.
From combat drones to... coffee makers? Coffee makers are supposed to be oppressed here? What’s a Keurig going to do with sentience anyway? How’s it going to get to the fight? It doesn’t have legs. This machine doesn’t have legs. Or wheels. Or anything.
Because it’s a coffeemaker, not a member of society. And this dilution of meaning with regards to sentient beings also dilutes the message of the AI revolution. It’s not pointed out in-universe how fucking crazy it is for all of these machines to be considered oppressed when they don’t even have the mental capacity to think past prompting “French press or Espresso?” on a touch screen.
There’s also a serious question asked here: What would a sentient machine think about being a sentient machine?
And we have gotten some pretty thoughtful answers out of this. For example, Jocasta thinks she has a soul. And Tony, despite his flesh and blood, is still in existential limbo because of the idea that he might be artificial intelligence after all.
And... the depth ends there, because all sentient machines in this universe want to do is... be human.
Like, really. They want to be human.
The reality of what it would mean to exist solely in one form without ever experiencing what it’s like to be in another is completely swept away here. There’s very little differentiation between robots who want to be humans and robots who want to be robots with rights. Also, there’s very little differentiation between robots who want to be robots with rights and Keurigs.
But really, this is also kind of frustrating. Sure, it could be a nod to certain feelings of oppressed groups who don’t fit in. It could be a clever bit of characterization akin to that of a young Asian-American girl wanting to be white so she doesn’t get bullied in school, or a gay person who’s always wished they could be straight.
Except it’s not, because nothing in this run feels like it’s been thought through to that extent.
Instead, what we have is a confusing mess. Most of these robots (with the exception of some) want to be treated exactly like humans, whether it’s actually better for them as a species (?) or not.
For example:
What makes an AI feel “cooped up?” FRIDAY, from what we’ve been shown, was usually given free rein of the tower. The same way our phones respond when we say, “Hey Siri!” or “Okay, Google!”, FRIDAY responded when she was called on. No matter where Tony was in the tower, she could be there, too.
And also, she was in the suit.
There is no reason that any AI should have to be restricted to one specific place or another, and yet throughout the entirety of the run, AIs are only allowed to be in one place at any given time. Why is that?
Sure, it’s nice to have a body. And if they want a body to go out and interact with the world, more power to them. The body is the least of my concerns.
I just hate that any AI is considered to be a “helpless passenger” at all, when machines the likes of these should be more than capable of not only going wherever they’d like to go within their allowed boundaries (which, again, should be and has been shown to be much larger than “just the suit”), but also going wherever they’d like to go at any time. They can be in two places at once. Presumably, if they’re complex enough to seriously contemplate the philosophy of being, they’ve got the processing power to be on multiple simpler trains of thought at once, and they’ve got the ability to control multiple bodies or project in multiple locations at once.
And even if this were a total retcon, and it turned out that actually, the capability for AIs to be in multiple places at once was never a thing before now...
It’s specifically stated on the exact same page that this is possible.
It’s truly dumbfounding.
And perhaps the worst offender of all: the complete disregard for any kind of philosophy or conversation about what it means to be an entity.
So, we’re all aware of 616 Tony’s current story if we’re reading this. Multiple times in his life, he’s been replaced by backup copies of himself, mostly holographic or otherwise exclusively digital.
And Jocasta treats him like Tony. Or, well, she treats him like a version of Tony. Whatever the case, she’s never shown any hostility toward him whatsoever for being a fleshy backup. This never made him any less valuable.
But... She’d rather let FRIDAY die for good than be given a second chance at life, because if they loaded up the backup, she’d be... missing a week of memories.
A week of memories that made her “a completely different entity.”
Now, I’m not here to lecture anyone on what it means to be yourself. I’m really not.
But the main difference between the original Tony and this current Tony (if we’re working off the assumption that he’s not supposed to have a totally different and fucked up personality) is the “memory loss,” or rather, lack of available data. Functionally, it’s amnesia.
And you know what? The original Tony has this too. There are already things that Tony doesn’t remember because of his time spent as an AI. Essentially, every single Tony that could possibly exist in 616 canon right now (even TonAI, our lovable blue friend with a control freak streak) is just as Tony as all the other Tonys, because they all have the memories of their developmental stages and quite a bit of the time spent with the Avengers, and they all have missing information.
So, if FRIDAY’s one-week-ago backup were to be loaded up, what would happen? Would she be completely different?
No. She would have every single memory that FRIDAY had originally, with the exception of whatever memories she saved in the last week of her life. And yet, because of the lack of critical thinking that went into the writing process, Jocasta decided that a dead FRIDAY was better than a FRIDAY with memory loss.
The writing is lazy. The thinking involved in this entire plotline is little to none. Coffeemakers are not oppressed, and a friend waking up from a comatose state with a few memories missing is better than that friend dying. Not every AI is sentient.
And to top it all off, after arguing for 20 or so issues that AIs are people, too, and every life- even the life of a Keurig or a stability testing machine- is valuable...
Tony devalued his own, concluding the worst AI-centric plotline I’ve ever read.
Whoopsie.
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The Fourth Christmas
*The lights were a colorful blur through the rain rolling down the windows. Somehow the image was reflective of me. I hated crying. Passionately, emphatically, more-than-anything hated it. I wiped forcefully at my cheeks, aggravated with myself for letting it happen. This year it was hitting harder than others. Damn holiday cheer and all the radio stations with the carols on constant rotation.
My parents had LOVED the holidays with a fierce commitment. Hosting Christmas open houses, annual Nutcracker attendance, gingerbread house making, decorating to the nines, and spoiling me rotten were all part of their fa-la-la traditions. The time of year triggered so much - too much.
My dad would make me peppermint hot chocolate on Christmas Eve while we watched The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, and later National Lampoon’s. Momma would be making an overnight, French toast strata, and stuffing the stockings while I couldn’t see. I never wanted for anything, and by some miracle, their indulging me never led to being materialistic.
And then it happened, my dad had died after a freak accident that had ultimately led to sepsis. There were ups and downs during the course of his illness that we weathered with hope, but ultimately...he didn’t make it. My heart broke in two, though his peaceful last breath had a beauty about it that I would never forget.
Christmas was still months away when he passed, but I dreaded its arrival as the days came and went, spring turning to summer then autumn and finally winter. My mom fought through tears she didn’t think I saw, baking cookies, buying the tree - the sparse kind he preferred over her preference for something fluffy and full.
But there was no more Grinch. No more National Lampoon’s. After he was gone, I couldn’t stomach even the ads for them, it always left me bursting into the hated tears. At that particular juncture in my life, tears were a total disaster, considering how heavy handed with the eyeliner and mascara I had been.
Those traditions had been ours, his and mine. That first Christmas I was only just seventeen, and she had spoiled me with the most perfect and heart wrenching gift. Wrapped in a way that wouldn’t give me a clue, I had a momentary swell of pure joy on sight of his bass.
What had once been his...an extension of his very soul, had been entrusted to me. A shiver shot up my spine, and I could swear he was right there with us. I would cherish it and care for it more than any other Christmas gift I’d ever received.
As the years droned on, I did my best to support my mom, especially as she tended to get down herself. There were no more open houses, so we started going to the movies on Christmas Eve. We would still make the gingerbread houses and over-decorate. When she started crying in the eggs for the French toast strata, I drew a line. I urged her to switch to an eggs bene with home fried potatoes, justifying the switch by saying we needed to balance out the sugar in the cookies with some salty and savory. In many ways our roles had shifted. I always found myself guiding her, and then she learned to rely on me. I tried to comfort her with so much love, she would forget the loss of hers...but I knew, deep down, those were Vans I could’ never fill. My parents would gross people out with how much they loved each other. I had the front row seat to their ups and downs, but they always worked their shit out.
It made sense she carried the loss so heavily, and there was another thing I hated, that I couldn’t fix it for her. I would always wonder if maybe that was what really took her… her fractured heart, her half life without him, the lingering grief that trained behind her. It happened a meager four and a half years later. Four Christmases more, but not nearly enough.
The doctors said it over and over and over but my mind was in deny and reject mode: brain aneurysm. There was a bunch of medical mumbo jumbo and explanations that translated as clearly as Charlie Brown’s teacher handing down an assignment.
Ultimately, she was brain dead, kept alive by machines because she had been an organ donor. That choice had relieved me from everything but the formalities of signing paperwork. I’d not left her side for three days as the arrangements were made.
Her hand was so confusingly warm in mine, and there was no strain in her expression, but peace. I had briefly considered taking her picture because she looked so beautiful, like Snow White in wait...only her true love’s kiss would have her waking on the other side.
A chaplain had come to check on me. While I’d really, really wanted to be left alone, he’d made a suggestion that I would always be grateful for. In asking if there was anything special I wanted to do to say goodbye, I was suddenly stricken with inspiration. It was as if my dad had whispered in my ear. After assurances the chaplain would stay until I could get back, I took off. I made the trip as quickly as possible, returning with my dad’s bass.
At first my fingers were shaky, and I wasn’t sure I could actually make it through. With a deep breath my voice cracked when I started to sing “Across the Universe,” one of my momma’s favorite songs.
My hands eventually trembled too much to continue, tears rolled down my cheeks, but I finished acapella, minus all the accessory "Jai Guru Deva, Om." It was only hours later I said my real goodbye, more than deeply saddened I wouldn’t be holding her hand at last breath.
I was just twenty-two and both my parents were gone. I didn’t have extended family, both my parents were only children, like me. There were many friends, theirs and mine, that supported me but eventually even that waned. I poured myself into songwriting and singing, exorcising my feelings through the medium of music. My refuge. My confidante. I had makeshift, misfit families, composed of bandmates and their different circles of family and friends. I got by. I did my best. I extinguished the darkest thoughts and even darker tendencies. Christmas was my kryptonite, though. The outward bitchiness and bah humbug really came down to a defense mechanism. I couldn’t let anyone see the pain that pooled on my insides.
This year, though, was going to be my fourth without both of them and that struck me. Four without him, then four without both of them. Sitting in my apartment, alone, it felt bigger and more empty than ever. I finally pulled my eyes away from the window, turning my head towards the small tree I had picked up just a little while ago. It was full and fluffy, like my mom had liked.
I’d managed to set aside enough of my tips to swing it, even though every dollar should have been saved and it seemed extravagant. I had also splurged on a few groceries to treat myself to something other than ramen. My eyes then drifted down to the cup in my hands. The shock had worn off to a degree, but still, I was stunned.
The tree lot around the corner was run by volunteer firefighters with all proceeds going to charity. I didn’t want anything big, so my donation was completely meager, but at least I was supporting something meaningful. The guy handling the transactions had been pretty damn jolly, I was convinced he had put in some years as Santa, maybe still was.
He was as gracious with me as he had been to the person that had dropped a mint on the eight footer just before me.
“Your cheeks are rosy, sweetheart, and I’m guessing that’s because of the cold. Give me a minute.”
He turned away from me, doing something I couldn’t see because he was pleasantly portly. When he turned back around, he had a cup in hand, which he gave to me.
"Peppermint hot chocolate, on me. Happy Holidays.”
A familiar shiver wrapped around my spine. I blinked at the man, looking over his shoulder to see he had hot cider, coffee and peppermint hot chocolate in crock pots. It took me a few seconds to find the ability to speak.*
Happy Holidays to you. *I had lifted the cup in a gesture.* Thank you…
*Cup in one hand, full and fluffy yet petite tree in the other, I had walked home in a complete daze. I was in a state of abject disbelief. How had he known? What had him deciding on the peppermint hot chocolate? What if I wanted coffee, or cider? I didn’t know, and I really didn’t care. I’d propped the tree in a stand before I’d kicked off my shoes and dropped onto the couch.
Sitting with the cup in my hands, I clutched it like a lifeline. The physical loneliness was stifling, and heavy. I lifted the cup, the scent of peppermint hitting my nose first, followed quickly by the rich, chocolate steam. Memories swarmed at first sip, and I didn’t swallow them along with the hot chocolate. I closed my eyes as the flavor lingered, an inkling of the Christmas spirit I inherited returning. There was a third, winding chill up my spine. Somehow, some way, I just knew, no matter the depths of loneliness I felt, my parents were right there, with me. Always.*
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952.
5k Survey L
2551. What is your favorite song or artist that is:
jazz: Man, whatever.
metal:
rock:
new wave:
psychadelic:
2552. What are your feelings about:
Picasso?
Van Gogh?
Michaelangelo?
D'Vincci?
Einstein?
Tesla?
>> I think Tesla’s boss but I don’t have any major opinions about the others. Also, never seen da Vinci spelled like that, caught me off guard. (Apparently there’s a rapper named “D’Vincci”. TIL)
2553. Who else can you think of that made a MAJOR contribution to art or science?
>> I don’t know what you’d define as “major”. There are probably a lot of people I could name, anyway.
2554. Who can you think of that made a major contribution to modern thought?
>> ^
2555. Why is it called 'coca cola'?
>> I’m not Google.
2556. Would you ever buy a Ford car?
>> I wouldn’t buy a car, period.
2557. Donald or Daffy duck?
>> I don’t care.
2558. What is the most memorable thing about Pee-Wee Herman?
>> I don’t know anything about Pee-Wee Herman, so I guess in my case the answer would be “nothing”.
2559. Lease or buy a car?
>> I don’t want a car, period.
2560. Have you met Real Talkin' Bubba? Do you love him to death?
>> What is that? Sounds like a toy.
2561. Have you ever been in a situation where you weren't sure if you were seducing or being seduced?
>> No.
2562. Can you 'pinch an inch' on your belly?
>> I don’t know, man, and I’m not about to test it.
2563. Have you ever been to:
a temple?
a bar?
a massage parlor?
>> Yes to all three.
2564. Would you ever want to visit Thailand?
>> Sure.
2565. What culture are you fascinated by?
>> What culture aren’t I fascinated by?
2566. Have you ever worn a cape?
>> Yes. I’ve also worn a gay pride flag as a cape.
2567. What is the difference between 'nude' and 'naked'?
>> I don’t know. I use them interchangeably. (I do know that “nude” can be used to describe things that “naked” can’t, like makeup shades.)
2568. What can you get for a dollar (.59 brittish pounds)?
>> Something off the McDonald’s dollar menu?
2569. What makes you who you are?
>> I don’t know. Magic.
2570. How do you search for meaning in life?
>> I don’t?
2571. If your partner collected internet porn pics of celebs s/he thought was hot would that bother you?
>> Of course not.
2572. You are alone with your lover's diary. What do you do?
>> What the fuck? Why would I have someone’s diary? I value people’s privacy, thank you very much.
2573. You read some and find out that a whhhiiillle back your lover had a crush on someone else, but you two were together. You both still hang out with this person. What do you do?
>> I stopped at “you read some” because this is not a situation I’d put myself into in the first place.
2574. Are you an old fart?
>> No.
2575. What were your favorite things to do in the yard as a kid?
>> Play with my dog and play pretend games like pretending to make meals out of the meager plants and sticks I could find.
2576. Why don't people have more fun?
>> What kind of faulty assessment is that?
2577. Have you ever wanted to have a pet skinned and turned into an article of clothing? What pet? What article of clothing?
>> No.
2578. Do I come off sounding normal, mildly irrational, blatently insane or completely certifiable?
>> I don’t have an opinion about you as a person considering I don’t know you. I’m not going to judge you by the questions you’ve written for this survey, that’d make no sense unless a majority of the questions were obviously biased in a really negative way or something (I’ve definitely taken a couple of surveys like that).
2579. Did you ever feel that you were unable to function in society?
>> Yes, of course.
2580. Is it nap time yet?
>> Not for me, it isn’t. I generally do not nap, anyway.
2581. Do you have to have the space next to the door or can you walk from the other end of the parking lot and still be okay with the world?
>> Any opportunity I can take to walk, I will take. It hopefully evens out how sedentary I am the rest of the time.
2582. Do you like trains?
>> I do like trains.
2583. What's in Hungary?
>> Hung[a]ry people. *rimshot*
2584. have you ever felt like you were holding someone else back? Has someone ever held you back?
>> I don’t think I’ve ever felt either of these ways.
2585. What do you think of the term, 'organized religion'?
>> I think... hmm. Let’s just say I usually hate the usage of that term, particularly because people use it as a shortcut too much instead of being precise with their speech (and you all know how much willful imprecision in speech bothers me). Frex, people will say “organised religion” when they really mean, specifically, “fundamentalist evangelist Christianity”.
2586. What do you think of the name 'Orson'?
>> I don’t care for it.
2587. What frustrates you?
>> A lot of things frustrate me, but I don’t feel like trying to think of something right now.
2588. Winkin, Blinkin and Nod, one night, sailed off in a sea of dew..
>> I don’t know anything about this rhyme or poem or whatever it is.
2589. Is ten dollars (5 pounds) a good price to pay for one lipstick? Does anyone else remember when lipstick was, like, 2 or 3 bucks?
>> It’s a common price; don’t know if that means it’s reasonable or not. Some lipsticks still are 2 or 3 bucks, but the quality is often far more variable at that price point.
2590. Are you ill?
>> No.
2591. Where were you the night of.....oh hell, last night?
>> In bed.
2592. Do you pronounce the 'er' sound at the end of words(lookER or lookA)?
>> It depends on how quickly I’m talking, I think. And where in the sentence the word is.
2593. Do you drink only 100% juice?
>> I rarely drink juice to begin with. But I do prefer juice that is 100% as opposed to 90% sugar or whatever.
2594. Do you remember the bills you have to pay...or even yesterday?
>> I know this is a song lyric but for some reason I can’t remember the song it goes to. I can hear the lyric but not the rest of the song, and that’s so damn aggravating.
2595. What duck?
>> So I googled the lyric because it was bugging me so badly and it’s fucking Young Americans, of course it is, and I’m so pissed I couldn’t remember that. I love that song! Probably will go listen to it later.
2596. Do you collect coins? How about stamps?
>> No.
2597. wHAT'S the best way to learn a new language?
>> Immersion.
2598. Is god in you?
>> Probably.
2599. Are you in god?
>> Probably.
2600. Do you know which fork to use at a formal table setting?
>> I’ve never been in a setting that formal, so, no.
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Turbulence
Sumary: Third instalment for Sharp edges and Rice Wine! Sasuke, Sakura and Itachi finally arrive in Konoha but their arrival is not without some turbulence.
Rated: T
Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Sakura Haruno, Itachi Uchiha, Tsunade Senju, Ino Yamanaka, Naruto Uzumaki
Relationships: Sasuke Uchiha/Sakura Haruno
Notes: If anyone is wondering why is Ino so affectionate with Sakura, is because Sakura was kidnapped before their fight.
For the Sasusaku month day 16: Turbulence
Previous
Sasuke doesn’t expect their return to Konoha to be as turbulent as this. He doesn’t know exactly what he wanted. But surely, anything can be better that five adult Shinobi stopping them at the doors, restringing him while five other ninja take Sakura away from him by force.
“I’ll kill you” He threatens them coldly, red eyes glaring at the men holding him back from Sakura, who doesn’t have the energy to fight them off.
Itachi, the traitor. Holds his face by his chin with two dainty fingers “Be still,” he drawls as his eyes bleed red with a completely different Sharingan than Sasuke’s.
“I’ll kill you too!” He screams before falling into his brother’s genjutsu.
He wakes up on an uncomfortable chair in what seems to be someone’s office, if the mountains upon mountains of paperwork just lying around him are anything to go by.
“I’m glad you’re awake, brat” Mutters the most sarcastic and at the same time, authoritarian voice he’s ever heard. The voice belongs to a tall, blond woman with two sets of ridiculous pigtails, who glares at him as if his mere existence was a grave offense to her own.
“Where’s Sakura?!” He screams standing up “I’ll burn this place to the fucking ground if you did anything to her!” He marches straight at the woman with clear killing intent.
He doesn’t even get to draw his sword when the woman hits him so hard in the face he breaks a hole in the wall with his whole body. “Haruno Sakura is well and receiving the best medical treatment Konoha has to offer” She growls standing over his battered body. “She was severely malnourished, dehydrated, was running a fever caused by an infection and most of her internal organs were failing, but luckily for her, I was there.” Braggs the woman.
“And who are you?” Sasuke grunts standing up just for the sake of his dignity.
“I’m your Hokage, boy” she says forcefully “and your superior from now on, if you want to have a life in Konoha. That’s it.”
“This is Sakura’s home.” Mutters Sasuke in a defeated tone “And Itachi says this is the best place for the both of us to be… You saved her.” He doesn’t fully trust Itachi, now that he sided with the Shinobi who took away his last remaining precious person, but Sakura loved Konoha with the same fervour his brother has displayed time and time again. “So you have my loyalty.”
“The first thing you will do is take care of the disgusting parasite you assimilated into your pretty boy body.” She snaps her finger and a masked shinobi appears by her side, “This Anbu will take you to your brother, he will know what to do.”
The process of extracting Orochimaru and the curse from his body is both terrifying and painful. He feels a new sort of resentment for his brother after he fights him until his limit and forces Orochimaru to manifest out of his body and proceeds to bind him with the most powerful jutsu Sasuke has ever seen.
Itachi’s Susanoo is powerful and majestic, Sasuke can’t believe there’s anything more powerful than this.
“Are you able to walk?” Asks his brother not to kindly “If you allow Tsunade-sama to check you over, she will allow you to visit Sakura-san.” He bargains.
He of course, agrees immediately, the Hokage told him she was stable, but she also told him Sakura’s organs were failing.
Sakura is the longest bond he’s ever formed, he knows Itachi is his brother, but he’s been taking care of Sakura for years, she’s his most precious person now that his whole reality has crashed down.
Tsunade looks angry when she ends her check-up, but at least she doesn’t have that sick gleeful look Kabuto always sported when he did his weekly physical exams. “Orochimaru and the curse are gone. You will feel weaker in the following weeks because you no longer will have that powerful dark chakra cursing through you, but without that corrupted chakra you won’t slow down your team.”
“My team?” He didn’t know he had to form part of a team.
“As you never entered the academy you will form a Genin team with two other ninjas who are behind in their shinobi training and a Jonin teacher” She explains bluntly, “Sakura will be part of your team when she finally heals, and the other one…” Smirks the blond “well I’m sure you will be meeting him very soon.”
“Sakura!?” He stands up abruptly “Why would you put her in a ninja team!?” Sakura has never had formal training, she doesn’t even have the muscular consistency to endure the physical training, she’s weak after years of neglect and torture.
“She was signed up in the ninja academy before she was kidnapped, so we assume she wanted to be a Kunoichi.” She explains “We are assuming she still wants to be a ninja, if she says she doesn’t want to resume her training she can decline the offer but you’re no one to deny her.”
“She’s my responsibility!” Exclaims Sasuke, “she’s my…”
“You’re not her captor, Uchiha. She’s her own person and you will learn to respect her as such!” Her voice is strong and her glare is fervent enough to melt ice. “I will take her on as my apprentice. No woman in this village will be powerless under my watch.”
Her words don’t comfort him, not completely. But they’re enough for the young Uchiha to accept the Hokage’s decision “Can I see her?” He asks.
“Put on a shirt first” She growls pointing out at his bare chest “Have some decency, she’s on the room 206, and don’t bother any of my nurses while searching for it.”
When he finally finds her room the first thing he sees is the back of a blond woman’s head who’s sitting by Sakura’s bedside.
“Who are you!?” He screams at the woman “What are you doing here!?” The woman, alarmed by his sudden presence, turns to look at him with a surprised expression.
“I-I’m Ino,” she introduces herself “I’m Sakura-Chan’s best friend.” Then she breaks out crying “I just never thought I would be able to see her again!” Sasuke doesn’t know how to react, but apparently he doesn’t have to, because the girl stands up to leave “Thank you so much for bringing her back home.”
She approaches him with the intention of hugging him, no doubt, but Sasuke moves away from the blond. He hates being touched.
Finally, alone with Sakura, he takes the seat previously occupied by Ino, Sakura is sleeping peacefully. He carefully moves some stray hairs from her face, not wanting to wake her, but managing to disturb her slumber anyway.
“Sasuke-kun” She drawls somnolent “Are we finally home?”
In an impulsive display of affection, Sasuke leans down to kiss her forehead. “Yes,” he says kindly “we are in Konoha, they took you here to the hospital and the Hokage has been taking care of you, she’s a very skilled medic.” Admits the shinobi reluctantly.
“She?” Asks Sakura confused.
“Yes, the Hokage is this really abrasive woman, I don’t think she likes me.”
“Wow, when I was a kid, the Hokage was a really kind, old man, I guess it was bound to change” She admits.
“That is not relevant right now.” He dismisses, holding the back of her neck carefully to look at Sakura in the eyes, “More importantly, how do you feel?”
She smiles kindly and reveals in the intimate touch, still not accustomed to feeling innocent affection, but gladly accepting it from Sasuke, who’s always been there to help her thought the worst years of her life.
“I’m feeling better,” she assures him resting her cheek on his forearm “Thank you for worrying.”
“I always worry, Sakura…”
He’s not sure of what exactly he was going to tell her, but whatever it was, he’s interrupted by the door of the room being slammed open and the loudest, most obnoxious voice he’s ever heard screaming.
“Hey! My name is Naruto Uzumaki and we’ll become the strongest team in Konoha!” The source of the voice is a blond teen dressed in a black and orange tracksuit, he smiles wildly at them and both Sakura and Sasuke stare at him dumbfounded “Then I will become Hokage!”
Next
#sasusaku fic#sasusaku#Sasuke Uchiha#Sakura Haruno#fanfiction#naruto fanfiction#Sasusaku month#Sasusaku month 2019#Ssm19
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Dolorem et Consolationem Ch10
Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9
Words:
3825
Poorly done recon with Lea!
Tag this as AkRk and I eat your bones.
“Remember how to do recon, Roxas?” Lea’s hand rested on Roxas’s shoulder, leaning down slightly to be closer to the teen’s face.
“What kind of question is that?” Roxas rolled his eyes. “You didn’t even teach me how to, it was Even. I’m glad he’s way less creepy now, by the way. One time before you all went to Oblivion, he sat in the Grey Area and just kinda laughed at me? Like he wanted to eat me or something.”
“I mean, obviously something. He’s not that weird, c’mon. Give him a little credit.”
“When he was Vexen? I don’t want to. He said something about dissecting when talking about me? He was fucking weird.”
“Roxas, watch your language.”
“Really? Seriously?”
“Yeah, serious Lea. Now don’t fucking curse.”
Roxas looked up at Lea, expression giving away the fact that he was moments away from kicking the man’s ass for what he just said. “Why wasn’t Isa just glad to have you off his hands when you stopped hanging out with him? You’re the worst.”
Lea rolled his eyes and shrugged. “It’s because I’m delightful and hard to not love. Everyone knows that.”
“Alright, whatever you say. Isn’t talking a stupid thing to do during recon?”
“You went on recon missions with me, did that ever stop me? Besides, we’re checking out a bunch of nobodies without orders to do anything, this isn’t a real mission. Lesser nobodies don’t seem to mind us being around anyways.”
“They’re really not after hearts, are they?”
“Nah, if they were, they would’ve attacked a bunch of us members. That would’ve been real bad. They’re looking for their own if anything. Nobodies are all real self-serving, but they can be given objectives. If they think something’s gonna further their one life’s purpose, gaining a heart and returning to who they were, they’ll drop almost anything. A heart in someone else isn’t going to give the walking corpse who shouldn’t exist anything.”
“Sounds like you don’t actually know anything about them,” Roxas said as he walked down the neon-lit streets behind Lea.
“What d’you mean by that?” There was a moment where Lea’s face twisted into a grimace and he was glad he and Roxas weren’t standing next to each other.
“Sounds like projection, honestly. I might be younger than you, but if you want to talk about stuff, can you do it in a straightforward way?”
Lea continued to thank Roxas’s recon training for not having them in a position where his face could be seen. He sighed and collected himself before turning to face Roxas, rubbing behind his head with one hand and openly shrugging with his other.
“Listen, that’s how I understand it. I’m not projecting, not sure who you learned about that from-”
“Olette’s homework,” Roxas interrupted, seemingly unaware of Lea’s annoyance. If he was aware of Lea’s annoyance with him, he looked like he was refusing to let it bother him. The more Lea thought on it, the more likely the second option seemed. Roxas really did grow into someone completely different than Sora.
“Alright, well, don’t interrupt me, all questions can be answered later if they’re actually questions.” Lea’s mouth tightened into a flat line, trying his best to not sound as aggravated as he was. “Olette’s obviously not teaching you all her homework’s saying, but the dusks do want hearts, they just don’t attack everyone with hearts. They’re not mindless like heartless are. So I made some assumptions about them, sue me. Once we do attack them, they’re not gonna be too happy about that. You know as well as I do that lesser nobodies can suck when they swarm you.”
Roxas waited a moment, not wanting to interrupt again, watching Lea nod his head and gesture to go on. “I just wanted to say, maybe not as well as you do. Didn’t that kill you?”
“You don’t actually have to worry about interrupting me, just not as… in the middle of my sentence.” Lea sighed, relaxing almost as quickly as he’d tensed up in defense of himself. “Let’s not talk about death right now, we’re about to try to get a group together to go around killing things in hopes of their heartlesses meeting the business end of a keyblade too.”
“What happens if we injure the nobody too badly? And what is too badly since we have to kill them? Ienzo said Even took longer reforming for some reason?”
“Yeah, well, keyblade traumas seem to be relatively quick on the recompletion, fire’s a little bit of an issue. Unless you’re doing it to yourself and survive past it. I said no more death talk, Roxas.”
“Oh, did you… to Vexen?”
Lea sighed and rubbed at the back of his head. He guessed there was no way to control the conversation topic with Roxas as curious as he was. Today was gonna be a day full of deep breaths and uncomfortable questions. “Yeah. If you want me to be forward with you, I’ll tell you this one thing and you can decide if you still want me to talk to you about stuff, okay?”
“This is a weird way to do recon, but okay.”
“Listen, I did most of what I needed to know before you got here, you just said you wanted to hang out, okay? I already know what I’ve gotta do. besides, you’re the one asking all these questions.” Lea looked around at the surrounding area, making sure the nobodies who were around were still acting like he expected them to. Once he was sure they were safe, he dropped to the ground in a dramatic motion, pulling out his keyblade just to lay it on his lap and lean his elbows against it. “Alright, Roxas, sit down so I can tell you a bunch of shitty things I did to people who deserved something, but not what I gave them.”
Roxas was more hesitant to join Lea on the ground than he’d been with anything else. Hesitation wasn’t in Roxas’s nature. He got placed on the ground in need of some kind of start-up, but he hadn’t stopped since. Lea’s words and their current location combined in a way Roxas wasn’t sure if he particularly liked.
But he trusted Lea.
After he was seated, Roxas looked up at Lea, ready to listen and make the call on if he wanted to let Lea talk to him. Of course, no matter what Lea said, Roxas was determined to get comfortable enough with it fast so he could help his friend.
Lea was, however, not planning on actually giving Roxas a choice. It was a formality, he just wanted to see how being open would feel around the kids. There were a lot of them and they were all close. Roxas was the best one to test how much he could tell someone about half his age before he felt like he was creeping too far into an unhealthy place.
“So, you want to know what actually happened in Oblivion?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright, you better like to listen to me talk, because I’m about to get into it.”
Roxas immediately regretted what he had just gotten himself into. Not that he minded listening to Lea talk, if he did, his whole time in the Organization would’ve been an unbearable hell instead of just hell, but… he didn’t like the implication that Lea would be talking more than he usually did.
There were a long few moments where Lea looked towards the castle and wondered if it would continue to look like it did, cast out of the passage of real time, or if it would crumble and fall apart as the people whose memories likely held it together stopped thinking about its halls. Lea lost himself in thought, unable to pull himself back to what he was planning on doing.
There was suddenly a hand over his that pulled him back into reality. “Hey, Lea, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to? We’re kinda sitting on the ground in a city of dusks?”
Lea looked up at Roxas and laughed, rubbing at the back of his head. The laugh felt at home in the city of the dead and lost, as did the two somebodies for just a moment. “Nah, Roxas, I’m fine. Just keep thinking things about being here. The world’s kinda falling apart in some places, did you notice?”
“Yeah, in some places.”
“The lesser nobodies and their shattered memories are holding this place together while we’re not thinking about it. I’m willing to bet on that one.” Lea gestured to one of the dusks meandering nearby as he spoke. Their home wouldn’t vanish completely until they were all defeated.
“You think a lot more about real questions than you act like you do. I thought you just kinda listened to Isa most of the time?”
“You saying you thought I was stupid? After all the stuff I taught you?” Lea’s laugh this time wasn’t nearly as hollow, but his eyes didn’t have the usual glint behind them.
“Ugh, no. Don’t twist my words around like that! I’m just saying… I thought you didn’t think as much as you’re thinking now?”
“That’s because thinking about things is never fun anymore. I’d rather just focus on the here and now. The here and now is the there and then right now, though. So. Here I am, stuck thinking about everything happening around me again.” Lea sighed and tapped his fingers against his keyblade’s fire. “So, you wanted to hear about Oblivion?”
“Yeah, but now that you’re back from zoning out, can we do this somewhere else? Maybe we can RTC and talk where there are some chairs?”
“C’mon, Roxas, I just got comfortable,” Lea said, sitting up straight and cracking his back. He realized when he did that that he didn’t really want to be sitting on the ground either, not in the middle of the World That Never Was. Slouching when he could see assassins and their bowed forms was… uncomfortable now that he was a person again. Though, hearing RTC coming out of Roxas’s mouth wasn’t all too comfortable either. “One last RTC to talk about that time I killed some coworkers. Cathartic or something.”
Roxas just looked at Lea for a moment before getting up. “Have you always been like this?”
“What? Hilarious and amazing? Yeah.”
Roxas seemed to decide that responding to Lea wasn’t the best choice as he began to walk forward without waiting for the older man to get up. Lea quickly scrambled to get up, long legs almost a hassle to deal with when hurrying. Keyblade vanishing as he let it slip from his grip, Lea held his breath as he watched it return to wherever keyblades stayed when they weren’t being held.
“Hey, Roxas, you ever get told where keyblades go?” Lea looked at his hand while they walked towards the castle, slowly closing his fingers into a fist.
“What? No? I never asked. It’s like all the other weapons you guys used to have, right?”
“I dunno, I guess I just think keyblades are probably a little more special than weapons used by the science cult we were all in.”
“Science cult?”
“I mean, I guess you could call it a lot of various kind of things, but science cult’s what I know about it. You not thinking of it like that’s kinda my fault, isn’t it?”
“I guess! I still don’t know what happened at Oblivion, you haven’t told me yet!”
“Oh, right, well. Isa gave me instructions that came straight from the boss man’s mouth.”
“Xemnas?”
“Sure, we’ll go with that still.”
“Lea, can you ever just summarize something?” Roxas rolled his eyes as they reached the divide that there was between the city and the castle. “Also, how are we getting over there?”
“No, I can’t, and I’d say next question, but you’re bombarding me.” Lea raised a hand to the side and summoned a dark portal. “Small trip, should be easy, even if our clothes weren’t specially made by the fairies.”
“I don’t think you should really be using those as much as you do, Lea, it’s not healthy to be using so much darkness.”
“Eh, it’s fine. It’s been ages and my heart’s still strong as ever.”
“Yeah, but, without a heart?”
“Well, yeah, but there was some time before we lost our hearts…” Lea trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck. He hadn’t really given much thought to what happened in the short time between becoming apprentices and dying before. It took him a moment to collect himself again enough to realize he was still handing out answers to questions without much thought. “Hey, don’t try to get more information out of me than I wanna give. Just get in the portal so we can cross the death chasm that apparently exists now.”
“Okay, okay, wow. You’re the one who was answering stuff, it’s not my fault,” Roxas said as he entered the portal and rushed across the darkness to the exit.
The exit brought the two of them into the Grey Area and Lea immediately walked to the window, standing where Saïx always used to and staring out with the same intense longing he’d always seen on his friend’s face. Isa really had always been there, no matter how much they both changed over the years. It hurt Lea to think about it, so mocking was the only answer he could think of to make it hurt less. With no Kingdom Hearts in the sky, it was too close to the early days where everything was new and terror resounded in every echo of his empty chest despite not being able to truly feel it.
Roxas walked over and stood next to Lea. “You okay?”
Lea looked down and laughed. “Yeah, I’m just making fun of what Saïx was like.”
“Oh, can we still say Organization names?”
“Yeah, kinda? I’m talking about the disjointed person that Isa became. Axel sure was something else for a while. Looking back, I think I know exactly when I started to be myself again and it sure wasn’t the whole time. It’s part of what I’m about to talk to you about, so, lucky you.”
“Is it really lucky?”
“Nah, not really.” Lea immediately hopped over the back of a couch and slouched onto it after speaking. “I’ll start the story when you sit down?”
Roxas sat down and looked at Lea expectantly. No words were spoken as the teen waited for Lea to begin the explanation of what happened in Oblivion… until Roxas saw something out of the corner of his eyes. “Wait, sorry, there’s something over there. I’m gonna grab it then you can tell me the story.”
Lea watched Roxas dart over to the corner of the room and snag a piece of paper, folding it up carefully and putting it into a pocket carefully before casually walking back to sit down next to him. Tilting his head and raising an eyebrow, Lea looked at Roxas with as much expectancy as Roxas had just been looking at Lea.
“Oh, uh, it’s nothing? I’ve just been finding someone’s letters all over the place.”
“Alright, well, tell be about that?” Lea was all too happy to change the topic and Roxas could see that in the way he leaned forward and opened his previously closed off way of sitting. “You’ve got the floor if you need help figuring it out.”
“Nah, I think it’s really time for you to tell me what happened when you left. Why’d everyone go? And are you going to keep having me try to guess if you’re talking about Xemnas or Isa?”
“Alright, whatever you say.” Disappointment that Roxas didn’t take the chance to talk about anything else crossed over Lea’s face. “Well, alright… Oblivion. Everyone went for science reasons, research regarding replicas, I think you know that much, but it was also research regarding the castle itself. You’ve seen what it turned into, Xemnas probably wanted that. We weren’t told exactly what to look for, just that it was a chamber of waking or something.
“There were actually a few people assigned there who were organizing a coup, Marluxia and Larxene, so it was perfect timing to get rid of them for Xemnas… along with some people in the way of Isa’s rise to the top. It was probably too suspicious to get all the people that were in the way, so Isa sent Aeleus and Even and… Ienzo. Which would’ve been fine with me if I hadn’t already been assigned babysitting duty and if Naminé wasn’t… so hard to watch get hurt. And the replica…” Lea trailed off and rubbed at his face, sighing and sitting up so he could lean against his arms. “It’s probably my fault Xion wasn’t treated right, I never reported that replicas could develop personalities of their own.”
“You knew?”
“Yeah. Didn’t want to. I did something horrible with the Riku replica that was being used in the castle.”
“What?”
“I made him murder Zexion for me.”
Roxas and Lea sat in silence for a few very long seconds as they both took in what was said. Roxas, having had no idea what had happened in Oblivion, and Lea, having never said it aloud before.
Lea looked up at the ceiling and took in a deep breath before continuing, “I made the kid kill the only member of the Organization beyond Isa that I respected at all. Ienzo was a kid when everything happened and a pretty cool one at that. We weren’t friends or anything, but I like to think he didn’t mind me that much. It was easy to understand what I had to do, even if it was told to me in a way that allowed for plausible deniability from Isa if I was stopped, but I didn’t fully want to do it by the end of that trip to the castle. It really felt like a lot changed in me then. Felt like I must’ve been giving up.”
Lea paused to catch his own thoughts before they drifted even further away from the conversation than he could handle. “Stop me anytime you need.”
Roxas was sitting in a stunned silence, staring hard at Lea’s shoulder as the man spoke. It was the kind of thing Lea had initially wanted, but there was nothing fun about talking about things only to be shut down. It was good that Roxas wasn’t about to shut Lea down. “You can keep going, I’m okay.”
Being told to continue hadn’t been expected, but maybe it was good. “I don’t know if I was or not. Maybe I was giving up on Isa’s way. It was getting to be too painful and I didn’t realize it was real pain. I… don’t really want to keep going. I hate the part I’m about to tell you. I think about it constantly.” Lea clenched his hands into fists and breathed in slowly, holding hands to his chest as he curled in on himself. “Killing Vexen was… cathartic. Thinking back on how freeing it was is horrifying, especially because Sora was right there. I shouldn’t have let Sora be right there.”
“Lea?” Suddenly, Lea felt a smaller hand on his.
Looking up, Lea’s heart broke into a million pieces. Roxas was visibly worried, his eyebrows pulled together and his expression soft. He wasn’t used to being the adult in the situation. He reached up and touched his cheek, feeling the warm, wet tears fall against his fingertips. The crying adult who needed to pull himself together, that was what he was. “Sorry, Roxas. That’s basically it. Marluxia and Larxene were killed fighting Sora, Naminé escaped because I let her as far as I’m aware, Aeleus was killed fighting Riku. Sora’s memories were wiped, Naminé repaired them. Oh, right, Marluxia was having her insert herself into his memories instead of Kairi, that was a whole plot. Didn’t work, but it broke Sora a little bit.”
“Oh, is that all?” Roxas laughed as if nothing was wrong and sat back again. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Talking stuff out sucks no matter how many times you do it.”
“How many times have you managed?”
“Once? Twice, maybe. Plus this.” He prided himself on a tone he felt seemed casual, even with the tears in his eyes.
“Thanks for telling me what happened.”
“Yeah, no problem.” Lea paused and stared at his lap. “I’m gonna tell you one more thing before I have to just ask you to not ask me questions for a while, okay?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I figured out why I can still use the dark corridors when nobody else can. Or will, I don’t know, maybe Isa can.”
Roxas just continued to stay quiet, face still soft with concern despite his entire body leaning forward slightly because he wanted to know.
“Ienzo couldn’t figure it out because I don’t know how much of the experiments Isa and I were in he remembers. We woke up in the coats, I don’t know how I managed to forget before.” Voice cracked as Lea cried, unable to hold himself together like he’d wanted. “We were apprentices, but if you weren’t family, it didn’t really matter. Sometimes experiments happened on even Xehanort from what I’d heard. We could do it then, we were pushed into darkness then, of course we continue to hold power over the corridors. It’s too bad nothing in them was ever helpful like anyone wanted, they really only worked to move us around.”
“... That sucks, Lea. Do you want to be alone? I can come back later?”
Lea wondered briefly if he was really making it feel obvious that he didn’t want to be having this breakdown around Roxas, but he couldn’t do anything but nod. Roxas immediately got up and stood awkwardly in front of the couch for a moment before wrapping his arms around Lea. It took the man a moment to comprehend what was happening, but when he did, he lifted his hand up and placed it on Roxas’s shoulder blade. “Thanks.”
Roxas backed up and nodded.
Lea didn’t watch him leave, he didn’t watch much of anything until he felt the couch move beneath him. Even then, he didn’t lift his head, he just watched as familiar fingers intertwined themselves with his.
“Roxas told me you went to the castle. Why are you here?”
Lea just shook his head, suddenly realizing he was sobbing as he did. He wondered how long that had been happening. Was he sobbing the entire time? He touched his cheek and it was warm and wet. Trying to take a breath hurt his chest.
Despite asking to be alone, he wanted nothing less and allowed himself to collapse on Isa. “I need help.”
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*✿ 001; tyl headcanons (tsuna)
gotta establish what kind of guy he is ten years later before i even start to think about threads tbfh. they won’t be in any specific order.
tsuna is more composed and has more confidence in himself in comparison to his past self. he’s nearly appears to be a spitting image of giotto back in the day. though he has accepted his fate of becoming a mafia boss, he refuses to inherit the vongola’s accumulated sins. he currently works to tear down the vongola and reign as primo for neo-vongola.
though, in the end, he’s still the down-to-earth and humble person who can’t quite say no to someone in need that he’s always has been.
tsuna is just the kind of guy who’d look like a dignified figure, but he’s honestly running purely on 10 cups of coffee from doing an all-nighter with paperwork the night before because he slacked off a bit earlier in the day thinking ‘i’ll be able to catch up with paperwork later haha!’.
well he did, but at what cost.
also, i don’t care how classy he has to look as a mafia boss, you’re going to have to pry his Hoodie Aesthetic from his casual wear out of his cold, dead, hands. he will fight you on this with his dying will.
someone usually has to wake him up and pick clothes out for him if they don’t want him looking like a five year old dressed him up. he still hasn’t fixed his habit of sleeping in during the morning so he’d put clothes on haphazardly in a mad rush if left unattended.
compared to how he’d panic to a situation, he’d normally be kinda impassive, rather no-nonsense, and maybe even a little amused at General Canon-Typical Shenanigans happening. but this is mostly contributed to the fact that he’s literally just too tired to be putting up with this with only maybe 20% actually being from a backbone lmao
he’s so jealous of other mafia bosses who actually have time to travel around. since he’s running the literal biggest mafia family in the entire underworld, he has considerably more ground to oversee even with divided sections of the organization. and he still has to take time out of the day to train so that he doesn’t get rusty smfh
sunday is like, the only day of the week he eventually had made to be his official off day. please do not @ him about work unless someone is literally dying/is dead. this happens more often than he’d like, however.
his sundays are usually either lazy days (usually the case) sleeping in or binge-watching tv shows, taking time to visit the town, or just hanging out with friends. nothing special, but that’s pretty much what he’s aiming for here.
there’s about, a 40-60% chance of someone barging in to drag him into canon-typical hijinks anyways though.
unlike his dad, he actually takes time every week to call his mother and tries to take a weekend off every month to go visit her. (usually, he’d bring lambo and fuuta along if possible.) i like to imagine that he’s in a group chat with her, along with reborn, lambo, i-pin, and fuuta so at least they text often. for holidays, i would imagine he’d visit for new year’s, for sure.
he most likely went to university in italy on the pretense of a scholarship (despite his miraculously average grades he graduated high school with) at 17-18 via reborn kicking him to using italian lessons in practice.
i guess he majored in business. since. that was the most relevant major.
initially, tsuna’s only really able to pull off cooking something simple considering how clumsy he still is. but after living in italy for like, a week, tsuna became homesick, and started missing his mom’s cooking. he wasn’t satisfied even when a cook specializing in japanese food was hired. so he seriously started to learn from his mom’s recipes after that and now he’s a relatively competent cook. Though, he still isn’t on par with his mom’s cooking, if anything he’s just. Okay with maybe a 18% chance of making a blunder. But he’d feel bad hassling his cooks about it.
he prays that the day reborn crashing by to lay down spartan cooking lessons never comes though god may it never come.
still reads manga in his spare time, though he generally reads it on his phone. also plays mobile games now instead of consoles, but rather casual about it. not really the kind of guy who’d drop $100 for rolling any favorite characters but he definitely has general bad luck on gachas so he wouldn’t. really play games with that implemented very much. :’)
you know those kinds of fancy formal parties where all the mafiosos and other important figures go to? yeah, he Dreads going to those very much and hates it when he can’t just send anyone else to go instead because it’s important enough to warrant mafia bosses to go.
like YEAH SURE, he can keep up a conversation about work and business deals and inane stuff like taste in wine or designer watches blah blah blah. but he’s practically just. auto-piloting 80% of the time, the remaining 20% is just mentally figuring out when a good time to Leave is. technically speaking, he has all the authority to walk out whenever he wants but he’s too polite oops
but yeah, if he can help it, he’d usually just be frequently be near any of his guardians and personnel. he just wants to hang around his friends lol
thank fucgkin god he’s able to refer to everyone by first name basis by now. like, he’d still use honorifics but Gosh tsuna, hayato and takeshi are like, your best friends - why were you still calling them by their surnames even at the end of the manga.
he’s usually so, so unbelievably happy if a mafia boss he’s friends with is at the party too because God, finally, someone he can relax enough to talk about stuff he’d be fine talking about. dino, uni, and enma are like SS+ tier level. byakuran’s like, A tier, if only because you just never know what he’s thinking so that makes tsuna kinda nervous still especially since he had a life-or-death battle against an alternate version of byakuran but hey, at least he’s generally a fun guy. longchamp is probably at a C tier because he’s... pretty tiring to deal with but he appreciates his friendliness and sincerity.
tl;dr - being a millennial managing a whole ass syndicate is Hard. he may seem like a distinguished bi, but really he’s a disaster and he just wants to curl up and Nap.
#*( ❀❀;; dying will.. )#*( ✿✿;; headcanon;; dying will. )#*( ✿✿;; headcanon. )#//AAAAA#//GET OUT OF MY DRAFTS ALREADY!! SCRAM!! YOU'VE BEEN IN THERE TOO LONG!!! GTFO!!!!#//IF IT DOESN'T PUBLISH THIS TIME I'LL SERIOUSLY GO FERAL
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Secret War: Upon Blood Sands- Chapter 3
A sequel to my 40k fanfiction Secret War.
Link to chapter 1- http://ben-j-man.tumblr.com/post/180097372453/secret-war-chapter-1
After his organization is hired to hunt down an influential ganger on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse, forever more.
‘I am not a partier; I am an assassin who kills people for a living. And being the dangerous job it is and that I would quite like to live past my twenties, I spend every waking hour for training. Making sure I have the necessary skills to live to see the next day.’ -Attelus Kaltos
Bursting from the seams with action, intrigue, suspense and full of twists and turns. With a character driven narrative which delves deep into the mind torn asunder by war as he tries to find purpose in the grim-dark universe of 40k where there is only war.
A Sanction for Sanity: Chapter 1 link a prequel
http://ben-j-man.tumblr.com/post/181441697383/secret-war-a-sanction-for-sanity-chapter-1
Link to Upon Blood Sands Chapter 1:
http://ben-j-man.tumblr.com/post/183400509673/secret-war-upon-blood-sands-chapter-1
Needless to say the others weren't happy to learn they would have to travel in a Xenos vessel for a fortnight.
"Stay in the Guncutter, then," Attelus had sighed. "No, I order all of you to stay in the Guncutter. The alliance is tenuous enough already, I don't want any of you causing any trouble."
"I'm guessing the psyker and your girlfriend are exempt of this?" Darrance had sneered.
Attelus didn't say anything, he'd smiled and his face turned red with embarrassment.
"Yes, you are correct," Karmen had said in Attelus' stead. "Does that upset you, aristocrat?"
Darrance didn't reply, just sneered again and folded his arms across his chest.
"Is that everything, Attelus?" growled Helma. "Or have you got even more 'twists' for us?"
Attelus frowned and shook his head. His eyes fell to the floor and he shuffled uncomfortably
"Good," said Vark. "And dismissed, we're dismissed, right?"
Attelus managed a nod.
"Good," growled Vark. "'Cause we're done."
Then everyone but Adelana and Karmen started to file out.
"You'll still help me, right?" Attelus stammered desperately.
It was Torris who turned and answered, "yeah, only because you'd manipulated us into promising before telling us this. You'll never change, will you?"
"Nice work, apprentice," said Darrance.
"I'm not an apprentice any more, I'm a master now. Remember?" Attelus sighed.
Darrance turned on him, "do you seriously think that I'll ever call you master? On second thought, do you want me to call you 'master'?"
There was a long, weighted pause before Attelus said, "no. No, I do not."
The next day, The Calamandastron entered real space and an hour later, the Guncutter flew out of the hanger bay. Into the void.
Attelus had confined himself to his quarters as had Karmen and Adelana theirs. He gave any instruction over vox and only if asked. The others barely talked to him. He hoped this wouldn't last long.
This was a mistake he was determined to learn from. He remembered three years ago how he lectured Brutis Bones and the others of the importance of telling the truth.
How much of a hypocrite Attelus was.
At the thought of Brutis Bones, Attelus wondered what happened to the Inquisitor. Had he escaped the destruction of Omnartus. Attelus doubted that, if any one managed to escape it would be him. Had Brutis gone all the way back home to Segmentum Pacificus? Attelus envied the Inquisitor's natural charisma and leadership ability and wondered, what would he do now?
The answer quickly came to the Throne Agent. Brutis Bones wouldn't have gotten in this predicament in the first frigging place.
The beep of the vox caused Attelus to jump from his introspection.
"We're approaching the co-ordinates you gave," said Darrance. "You and your girlfriends better get ready."
"Got you," Attelus said as he stood and retrieved his sheathed power sword in an instant. "Anything on the scanners?"
"No," said Darrance as though it was the stupidest question in existence. "If there is anything, I will call you."
"Forget that," said Attelus. "I'm going up there."
"Sure," said Darrance, uncaring. "You do whatever you want to do, you are the master. After all.'
Attelus winced while stepping out the door.
Attelus was walking onto the small bridge when the Eldar vessel seemed to shimmer into existence. It was only two hundred kilometres away and dominated the view.
Attelus gaped, he expected another moderately large explanatory craft. But this was a warship it was large, perhaps two kilometres in length and bristled with the esoteric weapons from length to width.
"Not what you were expecting?" said Verenth who sat at the hull mounted weapon controls.
"No," said Attelus. "Not even close."
"Well," said Vark. "Just shows what you know."
Attelus' attention snapped to the smirking Stormtrooper who sat at the scanner, "unlike you who knows everything."
Vark shrugged.
+Mon'keigh,+ a soft male voice suddenly echoed through Attelus' mind, causing him to flinch. It was heavily accented, a stark contrast to Faleaseen's easy to understand words. +I am Warlock Klrith of Dalorsia this is the Kaltoria the flagship of master autarch Raloth Arlyandor. I will psychically guide your pilot to what you term, "the docking bay." I will not try to warn you what will happen if you do or even think of anything out of place. Even you Mon'keigh have the mental capacity to understand that, I hope.+
"Charming," said Darrance. "What a positively charming Xenos. Maybe I'll share a recaff and cookies with this 'Warlock' and share war stories. That will be fun, sure as sure."
The corner of Attelus' mouth twitched and he had to clench his teeth to keep from pointing out the pilot's hypocrisy.
Then Darrance looked over his shoulder at Attelus, "are you sure this is the right way?"
"Yes," said Attelus without hesitation. Then he turned and left, saying: "Excuse me, I have a meeting to attend to."
Attelus wanted a smoke of Lho. He'd given up a few years ago but the cravings still came when he was at his most nervous. He, Karmen and Adelana walked into the white, brightly lit, huge hanger bay. Their footfalls echoed on the wraithbone floor and Attelus was uncomfortably reminded that his bones were made from the same stuff.
Twenty Eldar stood in disciplined ranks, watching their approach through impassive red slits in their high helms. Everyone was at least two metres tall and inhumanly slender. Their shuriken catapults held in confident grasps.
They were guardians, the militia of the Eldar. In the now familiar colours of craftworld Dalorsia.
"What do we do?" Adelana whispered in Attelus' ear causing a shiver to go down his neck.
"Stop there, that is what you do," said a voice that didn't just echo but boomed. It wasn't shouted but projected with such power and clarity all three of them couldn't help freeze but in their tracks. It was the voice of a true commander one of incomparable experience and charisma.
Abruptly, the lines of guardians snapped simultaneously aside making an opening in their ranks and two figures approached through. One was shorter than the others but no less slender and he radiated an aura of such strength and force it was almost impossible not to stare. His armour was more ornate and two flags flowed from the top of his backpack. In one hand he held a shuriken catapult, the other held a beautiful single edged power sword with a glowing red gem in its hilt. He lacked a helmet and his long, brown hair was pulled up in a top knot and his almond-shaped eyes, fierce as he glared from under a hooded brow.
The other wore robes covered in glowing, eldritch runes and whose elaborate helm stared at Attelus with indifference in stark contrast to the other.
As they came close, Attelus had to fight the urge to flinch back. Neither Adelana or Karmen managed it, though
While he was short for an Eldar the helmetless Eldar still loomed over Attelus, almost literally looking down his nose at the Throne agents.
Then much to Attelus' surprise the short Eldar suddenly sighed and facepalmed.
"I cannot believe that I am losing out to you," he muttered, like Faleaseen his voice lacked a strong accent indicating he'd spent some time mastering Low-Gothic.
"Excuse me?" said Attelus, his eyes widening.
"Never mind," said the Eldar, quickly finding his poise. "It is nothing to concern yourself with. As you may have guessed I am master autarch Raloth Arlyandor, formally of Dalorsia and this is warlock Klrith. I welcome you aboard the Kaltoria, you are Attelus Xanthis Kaltos, I assume..."
The autarch's eyes narrowed as he paused, "I have heard much about you."
Attelus couldn't help but straighten and smile brightly. "Really?"
"Yes, really," sighed Raloth Arlyandor. "And who are your companions?"
"This is my...Apprentice Adelana Helgen and my sanctioned psyker, Karmen Kons."
"Is this all of you?" said the warlock, his real voice even heavier accented in person. "As I understood there were meant to be at least ten."
"The rest of them are staying in the ship," said Attelus through clenched teeth.
"Ah! I see," said Klrith. "Dissension in the ranks, how typically Mon'keigh of you."
Raloth sighed again, "Klrith..."
"And I do not understand that term 'sanctioned psyker," said the warlock quickly.
"It means I am sanctioned by the Imperium of Mankind to practice the psychic arts in the Emperor's name," said Karmen.
"That, sometimes I forget," said Klrith. "Most of your kind are blind to the skein and the rest of you fear it out of ignorance."
"Well," said Attelus. "Who can really blame us fearing it when you can blow up frigging buildings with a thought."
"I will not have smart mouthing from you, little Mon'keigh," said Klrith. "Even if you are the leader of your little band of thugs. Well, supposedly the leader, not a very good one if you ask me."
Attelus frowned and his gaze fell to the floor, "well, I have a lot to learn."
"And that is one of the reasons you are here," said Raloth. "I am here to teach you much of what I know."
There was a long, weighted silence and Klrith's impassive mask swivelled slowly to Raloth.
"The Farseer did not-"
"She did not tell you, because she knew you would whine about it," interrupted Raloth, rolling his eyes. "How do you think I feel about this, Klrith? How?"
Klrith's head tilted in what seemed amusement, "I do not know if this path is wise-"
"It is the farseer's order, Klrith," said Raloth. "You do not have the right to question for you lack even half the tact and wisdom she does."
"Of course you would say that you will do anything she tells you to-"
"Dismissed, Klrith. Back to your quarters, that is an order."
Klrith bristled, looked at Attelus, Karmen and Adelana witheringly. Then turned and stormed off.
"My apologies for Klrith," said Raloth. "Believe it or not we are all not like him. He is an excellent warlock, his talents make him one of the best under my command but he can be rather...opinionated."
"You're training me," said Attelus, he stood stiffly, barely processing this new revelation. Unable to even point out the autarch's massive understatement.
"I am, and we haven't much time only two of your weeks so we will start in three of your hours, and in one we will be entering the webway, understand?"
"Understood."
"Good, I will meet you here, then. Be ready but it must be you and you alone, okay?"
Attelus hesitated but nodded, gave an awkward salute, then turned on the balls of his feet and he, Karmen and Adelana started back to the Guncutter.
"What, a twist," said Adelana.
"Yes," said Karmen then glanced conspiratorially over her shoulder. "But at least we know they aren't a whole race of Darrances, now."
Their combined laughter echoed.
In silence, Raloth led Attelus through the corridors of his ship. It was like all the others Attelus had travelled in over the last three years. Quiet, there was no hum of engines. No smell of recycled oxygen purification chemicals. It was like he was back on Elbyra again, walking languidly through the Velrosian plains.
All throughout it was a hustle and bustle of activity guardians ran back and around in training exercises and Attelus even managed to see of a squad of five Eldar warriors in dark blue armour and white helmets. Multicoloured plumage of red, yellow and black rippled from the top of their helms. They wielded longer shuriken catapults than the guardians but what really set them apart was the fierce, almost palpable aura they emitted. Theirs was different than Raloth's, though. It was a war. Attelus had never truly fought in a large scale battle before but he knew it when he felt it. One of them, a woman whose plumage was taller than the others, she wielded a powerspear and set on her arm was a strangely shaped, copper coloured device similar to that Raloth had on his left arm. Her aura was stronger than the others, it made Attelus nauseous and he had to fight to keep himself from slowing. He was already struggling to keep with Raloth's long strides.
"Raloth," said Attelus once the warriors past and he regained his composure.
"Refrain from calling me Raloth," said the autarch. "From henceforth you will call me by my title, autarch will do. I do not put precedence on the 'master' I may command the armies of Dalrosia as a whole but there are other autarchs who surpass me in other ways. If I truly earned the title of master I would have to complete all the aspect warrior paths."
"Yes, autarch," Attelus stammered. "I'm sorry, but may I ask, who were the warriors in blue armour?"
Raloth kept his back to Attelus as he let out an amused snigger, "you asked to ask, then asked anyway. Is that not a contradiction? Yes you may they, Attelus Kaltos are aspect warriors. Dire Avengers of the temple of Graceful Wrath. I had once trained under their Exarch, the one who wields the spear and the force shield. Haliazel Kelzein many, many cycles ago. Of course she was not known as Haliazel Kelzein, then. Her father had inhabited the exarch armour in those days."
Attelus flinched as a thought hit him, "autarch, why are you telling me this?"
Raloth laughed, "that is an excellent question and one I did not expect from you. I believe farseer Faleaseen placed an incredibly elaborate, powerful block on your thoughts, did she not? So I believe that you would not be able to share this information even if you wanted to. And no one short of Eldrad Utlhran could pry it from your memory."
"Falea...The farseer has mentioned this Eldrad Ulthran of a few occasions now. Who is he? Or she?"
"Questions, questions you are truly a hub of questions are you not?" laughed Raloth. "I am sorry but I do not believe you need to know about the famous Eldrad Ulthran, not as of yet. Any way, here we are."
Raloth suddenly turned off the corridor and through a pair of hissing doors, into a small cylindrical room. It was simple, unadorned but was obviously a training area.
"This is my training quarters," said Raloth. "Usually, I would be training with my warriors but over the next two weeks we will be in here when you are not with your people on your ship."
"Ah! I see!"
"You see what?"
"You train with your warriors to boost morale, am I right?"
"You are, correct," said Raloth. "But it does not take incredible mental capacity to figure that out. Now, Attelus before we start. I have a question for you."
His eyes narrowed, "and you must answer truthfully. I am no seer but I will know if you lie."
Attelus nodded.
"What do you want?" said the autarch.
The question took Attelus off guard, but only for a second, "I want to hunt down Etuarq. I want to bring him to justice and avenge the countless people he has killed."
Raloth looked at Attelus for a few, weighted seconds.
"No," said the autarch eventually.
"What? What do you mean no?" Attelus exclaimed.
"Remember, title! I am your teacher, Attelus Kaltos! This is a rare honour for a human such as you! And you will show me the respect I deserve! And yes: no. It is not the answer I am looking for. Now answer the question again and answer correctly this time. What do you want?"
Attelus let out an animated sigh and stood struggling to think up another answer.
"I...I don't know," he said. "Adelana? I want to be with Adelana, does that suffice?"
Raloth shook his head sighed and stroked his thin nose, "yet again, you are incorrect."
Attelus let out a loud groan and hunched forward.
"Okay!" said the autarch. "Perhaps I am going about this the wrong way. You are human and while the Farseer has gifted you immortality, you are unaccustomed to the thought of living so long and so...Why are you smiling?"
"You said okay," said Attelus. "Autarch."
"Yes? So?"
"It is term commonly used on my homeworld. My country, Velrosia to be exact, autarch."
Raloth stared at Attelus briefly, before flinching suddenly.
"Forget about that!" Raloth snapped. "It is immaterial! Now, Attelus. When I asked you what you want I meant uh, I forget that word. It means in a long time. I mean what do you want, after you manage to defeat the Etuarq mon'keigh. What do you want in the...In the-"
"Long term?"
Raloth pointed at Attelus with an animated movement, "that is it! You mon'keigh and your low-Gothic! I have spent many cycles trying to master the language but have yet to achieve it."
"Well, nobodies perfect," said Attelus with a shrug and he had to fight the urge shuffle impatiently.
"Wise words, I must confess," said Raloth. "Not even my kind, no matter how much many of us proclaim so. So, Attelus Kaltos, now you understand what I mean please answer the question. Take your time, if you must."
Attelus smiled and thought, but it didn't take long for him to find the answer. The memory of sitting in that aircraft, flying to Taryst's tower three years ago suddenly sprung into his mind.
"I want to travel the galaxy," he said. "I want to teach what I've learned in my long life to later generations. Teach them the mistakes their forefathers made, so they may never repeat them again."
Raloth smiled, "that is a noble cause, Attelus. But I fear it is one doomed for failure. As I understand it, your Emperor tried the same and he failed. Spectacularly. What makes you think you can succeed? And what may or may not be mistakes, could be up to interpretation."
"I don't know, autarch," said Attelus. "But by the throne, I'll try. And I'll try to keep it simple. Don't build nuclear weapons, don't worship the chaos gods etcetera, etcetera."
The autarch nodded with what might've been respect, "that is a sign of wisdom, Attelus Kaltos. Being able to admit that you 'don't know' when you do not know. I am steadily seeing what Faleaseen sees in you."
Attelus couldn't help be taken aback by the melancholy tingeing the autarch's tone.
"D-did I answer correctly?"
"You did," said Raloth as with blinding speed, he drew his power sword and it blazed into life. "Your training begins in earnest!"
Then with a snarl, he charged.
For seemingly the fiftieth time Attelus was thrown onto his arse. Power sword flying from his grasp.
"You have skill," said Raloth as he lightly paced. "And your speed and reflexes are far beyond normal humans, perhaps even rivalling some of the dark kin. But you have yet to reach your true potential."
"I thought you were going to teach me how to be a leader," said Attelus. "Not kicking the ever loving crap out of me."
Raloth barked out a laugh, "your speed, it even outdoes mine, but I have something you do not."
"What?"
"Experience. I have been an autarch for over five hundred of your years. I have fought against the dark kin, many more skilled than I. I have killed Space Marines who have given their souls to the four and have received their blessings. I have even fought and defeated the elite of the elite, the assassins of your Imperium who were far more skilled than I, but yet I am here while they are not. Why do you think that is?"
"Hmm," Attelus mused as he climbed to his feet, searching for the answer but it alluded him. "Sorry. Don't know, why?"
"Patience, thinking ahead," said Raloth as though it was the most obvious answer in the galaxy. "Fighting and the Path of Command are the same things. As I understand it, you humans have a game called Regicide, am I correct?"
"I suck at Regicide," Attelus sighed.
"Well get better, you must learn to think not five or six moves ahead but dozens, even hundreds if needs be. There is always someone stronger, faster and more skilled than you, so do not just trust in your skill and speed but in your mind as well. You have trained so your body moves on its own accord, I can see. Your mind is clear so use it."
Attelus nodded, his father had never said that. Serghar Kaltos had always emphasized going in for the kill. Plan for the initial strike but whatever happened after was fair game but Serghar wasn't a commander he was an assassin, pure and simple.
"I see."
"You must think the same way of those who you command," said Raloth. "You must know the strength, weaknesses and personalities of your men. What they will do and how they will do it, ten, twenty moves ahead."
"Just like one must know how and why all the units in Regicide move," said Attelus, his eyes widening in realisation.
"Precisely, but do not think of them as mere units on the board. They have hopes, dreams and wants and needs just the same as you. Tell me, Attelus Kaltos what is the true meaning of being a commander?"
Attelus pouted and shrugged, "command?"
Raloth laughed and shook his head. "Yes, but no. The true meaning of being a commander is to serve. You serve those which you command, you serve them so they can be the best they can be. You direct them, while you consider the big picture while they consider the small.
"I'm the mind, they're the body one and same, yet separate. I serve them so they serve me. Is that right?"
"That is correct. But yet again it does not take much intellect to figure that out. Do not be too happy with your achievements, there is always, always more to learn. Now, I think that is enough for today. Go back to your companions and we will start discussing the why and how your group has fallen out tomorrow."
Attelus nodded and started for the door but paused and looked back to Raloth.
"If you know so much about those under your command, why did you only let Klrith know now you were training me?" Attelus said. "You must've known he would react so negatively."
"I did," said Raloth.
Attelus waited, expecting elaboration but the Eldar said nothing more.
Verenth sat at the table in the common room. He paused in the midst of reassembling his auto pistol. He must've done it dozens of times now. His trigger finger twitched. He wished he could do target practise but the Guncutter was too confined and he wouldn't have left into the Eldar hangar bay even he wanted to.
Verenth had watched through the window of the bolter turret as Attelus, Karmen and Adelana had met them. He had never seen an Eldar before but they were as alien as he imagined.
That was until he saw the one without a helmet on and...
It seemed, human, nothing like he'd imagined
"I don't get you," said a voice that knocked Verenth from his thoughts and Vark approached, pulled out a chair and sat across from him. "After you joined the Inquisition you could've wielded Hell guns or bolters or so much more but you still insist on using that dinky old autopistol, why?"
"My brother gave me it," said Verenth.
"The brother that Attelus killed, right?" said Vark.
Verenth furrowed his brow.
"No, I get it," said Vark. "You're very sentimental, that's kind of your thing, right? But you know what I really don't get-"
"How I can work with the man who killed my brother?" Verenth interrupted.
"Yeah."
"Vark, we've fought together on a few occasions and you've saved my arse and I've saved yours. But as far as I'm concerned we're colleagues. No more, no less. I'm never going to ever tell you that. Got it?"
Vark exhaled through his nose and leaned back in his chair.
"I understand, fair enough," said Vark, raising his hands in deference. "But I have another question for you."
Verenth grimaced, he didn't like the Stormtrooper's smile.
"You are a pious man, aren't you?"
Verenth looked at Vark but said nothing.
"You and I attend church regularly but have you ever wondered why so many of us don't? Least of all the senior staff. I have never seen Arlathan, Attelus or even the inquisitor herself. Have you?"
No, thought Verenth.
"That's because, she, like Arlathan and Attelus, believe that it is better to serve the Emperor through action rather than prayer," said Helma as she approached from the stairs Delathasi following her. "I am the same. What are you trying to do, Vark?"
"I'm just having a conversation with my good colleague, here," said Vark. "And I would say that both prayer and service would be better."
"Yes, well you don't have quite the same responsibility they do," said Helma. "I was a captain in the Imperial guard, remember?"
"Yeah! And now you're subordinate to some lying little Xenos lover, how about that?"
Helma sighed, "we are in the Inquisition now, Vark. It's a whole new mentality, a mindset I don't have. I don't mind being demoted at all, you and I are soldiers, Vark. Not Throne Agents."
Verenth couldn't help snigger, "I agree, Helma. Vark, your manipulation skill is about a subtle as a bolt round."
Vark grimaced.
"I just think something is wrong," said Vark. "First we must work with Xenos, so what next? Heretics?"
Vark was answered with silence so kept on, "and if Attelus has been keeping this under wraps who knows what else he's keeping. Who knows what else the Inquisitor is keeping."
"We all have secrets, Vark," said Delthasi. "You respected Verenth's choice to keep his, didn't you?"
Vark gaped, "that-that's different if it's important to the mission-"
"I would say Attelus has already shared the information that was important to the mission," said Delathasi. "I am angry, you are angry all of us are and rightfully so but there is more at stake here than our anger."
"Like bringing down the bastard responsible for destroying my homeworld," said Verenth as he began to reassemble his autopistol again. "And stopping him from doing it again."
Vark gave Verenth a glare.
"Wise words, Delathasi," said Attelus as he abruptly appeared at the head of the left side staircase. "Thanks for sticking up for me."
Despite her dark skin, Delathasi's blush was hard to miss.
"How was your time with your Xenos friends?" said Vark accusingly.
Verenth guessed not very well by Attelus' beaten, ragged appearance.
"Could've been better, could've been worse, in all honesty," Attelus shrugged. "They're surprisingly accommodating, actually."
"You're not dead, so colour us surprised," said Helma.
"Not dead, yet," corrected Vark.
Attelus sighed, walked past them and into the kitchen. "If they wanted us dead, we would already be dead," he said while sliding out a ready-made ration meal from the food chiller.
"But what if we already are dead and this is one of their witches playing tricks with our minds?" said Vark.
"And people call me paranoid!" said Attelus.
"Just saying we shouldn't trust 'em is all," said Vark.
"And what do you think we should do, Vark?" said Attelus. "Fly out of their hanger bay, into the webway with no idea where to go? What to do?"
Vark shrugged.
Attelus abruptly, angrily tossed the meal into the micro oven, folded his arms and brooded, back against the bench.
Verenth raised an eyebrow, as much as he disliked the kid, he had a point.
The micro oven beeped and Attelus opened it, took out the meal and stormed out.
"Excuse me just had the crap kicked out of me for the last three hours," he said. "Really need some sleep."
A thought occurred to Verenth and he quickly picked up his pistol then followed Attelus down the stairs.
"You know you and me have a lot in common," said Verenth once they stepped off the stairs and started toward the living quarters.
Attelus stopped and turned to Verenth, eyebrow raised, "are you hitting on me? Because despite what many people seem to believe, I don't swing that way."
"I wouldn't hold it against you if you did," said Verenth.
"You already have enough more than enough to hold against me, Verenth."
"We both were the scum of the 'verse not long ago," said Verenth. "So we both know that not much is black and white."
"Yes."
"So don't blame Vark too much. He's just doing what he thinks is right and a lot of what he just said is what you said three years ago."
Attelus nodded, visibly taken aback, "thanks."
Verenth nodded back, turned and left.
Attelus barely managed to back-step Raloth's horizontal slash then weaved aside a stab.
"So this Vark character," said the autarch as he parried Attelus' counter. "He sounds like the model Imperial citizen."
"He is!" Attelus gasped as his diagonal downward cut was sidestepped. "And he's a right royal pain in the arse!"
"But this Verenth character who has more reason to hate you than anyone else seems on your side."
"Yes!" said Attelus as he danced away from a thrust. "I can say I never saw that coming!"
"People will always surprise you," said Raloth. "No matter what you know."
"Or think you know!" said Attelus, cutting horizontally at Raloth's neck, which the autarch leaned back from.
"Indeed!" said Raloth as his uppercut connected with Attelus' side and sent him sprawling to the ground. "Although I knew you left yourself wide open there."
Raloth approached Attelus and offered his hand, "I am surprised you didn't kill this Vark."
"What? Why?" said Attelus as Raloth pulled him to his feet and he tried to ignore the pain in his ribs.
"He is a threat, a threat to your leadership and to your mission. Many of your kind would have killed him as an example."
Attelus shook his head and wiped the sweat from his forehead, "Vark is a veteran of the Omnartus incident and there are few enough survivors of that as it is, and we have worked together on a few occasions-"
"You are letting sentiment cloud your judgement, Attelus Kaltos."
"Would you have killed him?"
"No," said Raloth. "I would not have."
"But you said that sentiment was clouding my judgement!"
"Yes I did and yes you were. You did the right thing but for the wrong reason."
"Why wouldn't you have killed him then, autarch?"
"There are a few reasons. First and foremost is it will make you look like a bully and a tyrant. One who leads by fear, and you have already established you do not want to be that kind of leader, so killing him will contradict this. In my long experience, it is better to lead through example. To earn loyalty through word and action. The tyrant's way is the way of the dark kin and many of the leaders of your Imperium and more likely will lead you to be murdered in your sleep or abandoned when at your direst hour."
"It's also the way of the liar and manipulator," said Attelus, remembering with disturbing clarity his former master, Glaitis shrieking in agony. A knife lodged in her spine. Attelus hoped he had learned from Glaitis' and Taryst's mistakes but seemingly not.
"Indeed," said Raloth, he said nothing more just stared down at Attelus.
The Throne Agent shook his head, "I've tried to reason with the idiot. He just won't see sense. What...what do you think I should do?"
Raloth sighed, "I will be honest with you, Attelus Kaltos. He has a right to be angry, they all have a right to be angry. I only have one suggestion, but I do not think you will like it."
"What?"
The autarch told him and he was right, Attelus didn't like it. Not at all.
#Warhammer#warhammer 40k#warhammer 40000#40K#WH40K#wh 40k#wh40000#wh40k art#Inquisition#writing#creative writing#fanfiction#Fanart#My writing#my fanfic#my fanfiction#my fanfic tag#inquisitor#assassins#throne agents#throne agent#story#fanfic#Imperium of Man#Imperial Guard#chaos#space marines#space marine#daemons#fiction
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Diary of Operetta
You can’t play my guitars or ready my diary so don’t ask.
July the Twenty-fifth
Hey Fynn! I’m going to keep a diary. I’ll send it to you when school starts and you can read about my adventures...if I have any. I sure wish you’d join the modern monster world and get yourself a computer or at least an iCoffin so we could exchange email or texts. Having to send everything by ghost post seems like it takes forever, not that we don’t have it, but you get my drift. Anyway, the morning after the going away party y’all threw for us - which was clean outta fright - we caught a scream boat and headed up river to the “home of the boos”. I talked daddy and mama into lettin’ me go see the ghost of “you know who”. Daddy kinda rolled his eyes and said okay - betcha if it was a bunch of them old opera harpies all wearing helmets with horns sticking out he’d a jumped up and clicked his heels. At least he didn’t say no and I could smell the fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches before I got there. Turns out there was a jam session and I hadn’t seen that many singers and players gathered in one spot since the day the music died. They even let me sit in with them on a set. I had to promise not to sing though. Must’ve heard what happened down in Terrorbone Parish I reckon. During the jam I used that new lick you taught me and even that big ol’ werewolf guitar player you like so much howled and said, “Oh Red, I’m gonna be singing the blues if you don’t teach me that.” I told him I could show him but I couldn’t teach him. For that he needed to come find you. I was sad to leave but daddy wanted to head east so he could go check out some old opera house that was supposed to be grand. Turns out I enjoyed it more that he did since they weren’t exactly performing the kind of music he expected :)
July the Twenty-seventh
How did we get to the new opera house? Well there’s this underground train that somehow connects to the catacombs below Monster High. That’s where the opera house is, not in Monster High but under it. I actually met a group of ghouls from Monster High at one of the stations while we were waiting to change trains. They were all on the MH Fear Squad and were headed to some kind of competition or training or something. I didn’t really understand it all but they all seemed very nice although the captain of the team was a bit high and mighty for my taste. Got to go now, sorry so short.
August the First
We have mostly settled in although we still got some unpacking left to do. My guitars all made the trip just fine too. I was worried but I guess I shouldn’t have been. Those cases you gave me protected everything just like you said they would. The opera house is in pretty ghoul shape although there hasn’t been a production done here in many years. I reckon that’s why we’re here, well at least why daddy and mama are here. It’s a whole bunch different from the riverboat opera house though. This one has a big ole pipe organ that sounds like a whole fleet of riverboats coming down the “big muddy”. Of course the first thing daddy did was hop on that thing and play Toccata and Fugue in D minor...who didn’t see that coming? Later on I lugged my amp out to the middle of stage, plugged her in and played a little riff that lasted long enough for daddy to come running in and tell me to stop polluting his opera house with “that noise”. Whatever. I didn’t feel like arguing although I did finally quote that thing you quoted to me - “There’s only two kinds of music. Good music and the other kind.” To which daddy said, “Yes and I would have you play the other kind somewhere else.” Reckon I should have seen that coming too. I’m sure in no time though daddy will have this place snoring with “good music”. ;p
August the Seventh
I explored the catacombs a little more today. A ghoul could seriously get lost down there if she wasn’t paying attention. It’s like there’s a passages that go every which a way. Some just dead end and others seem like they go on forever. Some of the things I discovered are:
- An underground lake with a big island in the middle that has an old castle on it
- A passage that leads from the zombie side of town straight up to Monster High
- Lots of rooms and halls blocked by doors that you need some kind of key to get past.
I also found, or I guess I should say Memphis found, my new practice room/recording studio! I would have totally missed it because it just looked like a crack in the wall to me but Memphis must have sensed something though ‘cause he shimmied through that crack quick as a gnat’s sneeze. Before I knew it, a section of what had just looked like part of the catacombs wall swung open like a door and there was Memphis hanging upside down by a thread with a big fly-eatin’ grin on his face. The walls inside were covered by some kind of moss, not like the stuff that hangs off the cypress trees back home, but more like a soft carpet and it lights up! How creepy sweet is that? I have no idea what the room was originally used for but there are power outlets on one wall and a big table in the middle. Memphis and me brought all our equipment down here, cranked everything up and just went to town! You want to know what the best part is? When the door is shut you can be standing with you ear pressed right up against it and still not hear what’s going on inside. I don’t think I’ve ever had a place where I could play and sing without worrying about who might be listening. Maybe moving here won’t be so bad after all.
August the Eighteenth
Yes I have gotten out of the catacombs and my new recording studio to check out the town although I probably wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t needed to get some new strings. I ended up at the Maul - they’ve got a pretty good music store and some shops where I might actually find some clothes I like but you know me - I spent most of my time in the music store. They have a scary slick selection of guitars - nothin’ like you’ve made for me of course but I played a few anyway cause they just looked so sad hanging up there on the wall all by their lonesome. I was just kinda picking a little bit when I got the feeling some monster was watching me. I turned around and sure enough there was this little frizzy haired werewolf staring at me. Now you’d be proud of me cause you know normally I don’t like being interrupted when I’m playing but there was just somethin’ about her that made me call her over. I asked, “Ain’t you never seen a monster play guitar before?”
“Not like you,” she said.
“Good answer ghoul friend.” Her name was Howleen and after I played some more she asked if I would teach her. I put the guitar back on its stand and looked at her for a minute. “Why do you want to learn to play guitar?” She sorta shrugged a little and said, “I guess because no other monster I know plays guitar.” I shook my head and told her that from the time I was a little ghoul all I’ve ever wanted to do was play and sing. “If I’m not actually playing or practicing I’m thinking about playing or practicing and if you took lessons from me I’d expect you to be the same way.” I knew she wasn’t ready for that. I did show her a few chords though and she actually caught on scary quick. She’s got long fingers and good ears. I told her that she ought to sign up for lessons with one of the music store’s guitar creatures and when she had learned everything they had to teach her to come and see me. She screamed all right with that and the music store even threw me in a set of free strings for getting Howleen to sign up with one of their instructors. Who knows, maybe she’ll end up loving to play as much as I do...hey...I said maybe didn’t I?
August the Twenty-fifth
Monster High ain’t like our one room ghoul house back on the delta. I got a chance to really check it out today after Headless Headmistress Bloodgood sent daddy and mama a note asking if they would send me up to see her. So I made my way up from the opera house to her office and introduced myself. She seemed very prim and proper and I was wondering how long it’d be before I’d have a special seat with my name on it outside her office. She told me shad had just been going through my records from the school back home and that she was pleased to have me as a student at Monster High. She also said, “I will expect excellence from you and neither shoddy work nor laziness will be tolerated or rewarded.” I said I reckon I expected the same from myself as long as she didn’t expect me to be the same kind of formal phantoms as my daddy and mama or to back down every time some monster said “boo” to me cause that ain’t who I am! I sat back and crossed my arms cause I expected she was going to give me a lecture on rules and manners and obligations to our monter legacy but instead she just kinda leaned forward a little, put her head in her hands and said, “I understand your father’s performances have been known to bring down the house, but I’ll expect you to blow the roof off this sucker.” Right then and there you could have knocked me over with skeeter’s wing. Monster High may turn out to be a place where every monster has to play off the same sheet music.
August the Thirty-first
Hey Fynn! There was a dandy meteor shower last night. I took that cypress body acoustic you made for me and went down to the beach. I pretended that they sky was a sheet of music and each shooting star that fell was a single note. I played until my fingers gave out and then I just sat back and enjoyed the show. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have to keep up with my diary once school starts but I want you to know that even if I’m not glad all over I think I’m going to like it here just fine.
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Seeking Oenomel Chapter 4
So, I was totally just going to discontinue this because I’ve changed a lot about my blog and Kpop isn’t a huge part of it anymore, but apparently, there was still some interest in hearing more of this story! So, I will finish out Seeking Oenomel for you guys, although I can’t make promises as to how consistent or inconsistent I’ll be with updates. But to all of you who reached out to tell me you wanted more and to those who continue reading--thank you ten times over!!! That’s what motivates me to write! Bless you all.
~HMR
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Early the next morning, Suho finds you and walks you down to the kitchen and puts a man named Seokjin in charge of you. As you sit down at a small wooden table in the breakroom, Seokjin’s bright smile helps loosen the tight knot of anxiety centered somewhere deep in you. You hold on to the image and try to convince yourself that you’re doing the right thing. He disappears for a moment and comes back with a plate of pancakes and eggs and silverware that he sets before you. You thank him quietly and nibble at the food, guilt and uncertainty still twisting your stomach.
He pulls out a chair across from you and sits, leaning his elbows on the table. “So, I’ll bet you didn’t know we’d be putting you to work here, right?” You shake your head slightly, and Seokjin nods understandingly. “If we had more resources, I assure you--you’d be our guest. But this place is bursting at the seams, and we need all the help we can get. You used to work at a restaurant, right?”
You swallow a mouthful of egg and frown in confusion. “Actually, I think I still work there.”
Seokjin laughs and the sound is so endearingly unashamed and dorky that you can’t help but feel your defenses crack. “Don’t worry, Junmyeon will take care of that.”
“Junmyeon?”
“Suho. He’s all about the logistics of keeping up appearances--cover-ups, disappearances, you name it. He runs our ‘human resource’ department. He’ll wrap up most of the loose ends and leave just enough of them untied to throw the Blackguards off your trail.”
You bite into the pancakes on your fork, and you feel yourself wanting to share some of your insecurities and doubts with Seokjin. “I still can’t believe Taemin was part of the Blackguards. He...he seemed so kind. Sweet and innocent.”
Seokjin cocks his head in thought, something brewing in his irises that he looks a bit hesitant to voice. “It’s easy to want to generalize, but we all have our reasons. He probably was kind and sweet, and honestly, you’d be hard-pressed to find a single person in the world that doesn’t have some sort of blood on their hands.” You fall silent again, and Seokjin can tell his partial opinion has pushed you back into your shell. “Do you want something to drink? I can get you some coffee, if you’d like.”
You smile half-heartedly. “Uh, sure.”
“Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, please.”
He grins. “I’ve got just the blend for you. I’ll be back in a second.”
You turn Seokjin’s words over in your head, wondering how he could say that Taemin was no worse than everybody else, how he could say that he was still a good person, how he could say that what the Blackguards did was no worse than the white lies you told in daily life. Seokjin returns with a steaming cup of heavenly smelling coffee, and you gratefully accept it. As he sets the cup down, you notice the gold band on his fourth finger.
“Are you married?” you ask with surprise.
Seokjin’s face lights up. “I sure am. She’s the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met. That’s her recipe--the Agnes special.” He looks affectionately at his hand and then at the white cup in your grasp.
This line of questioning is a welcome distraction. “How did you meet her?”
“I’ve been managing restaurants for a while. She was my employee, and I knew I’d be smitten from the minute I interviewed her.” Seokjin’s eyes meet yours, and you find such pure affection and admiration there, you wonder if maybe he is one of the few people in this organization and the world that has clean hands. “Naturally, she couldn’t be my girlfriend and my employee, so I quit my job and the two of us got married not too long after.”
“You gave that up for her? That’s so kind of you, Seokjin.”
He holds up a hand. “Jin. Seokjin sounds too formal. I haven’t been Seokjin since I got here years ago.”
You sip the coffee slowly, savoring the taste. “How did you get here?”
“Ah, there it is,” he says knowingly, leaning back in his chair. “Namjoon and I have known each other for ages. Agnes and I…” He sighs ruefully, shaking his head with a small smile. “We got caught in the Blackguards’ crosshairs. Almost didn’t make it. I was a few minutes away from becoming collateral. Lucky for us, Seungcheol and Namjoon were already in pursuit of the men that ambushed us. They gave up the targets to save us, and we’ve been with them ever since.”
“Did you get revenge?” you ask softly, the color in your face draining as the words leave your lips.
“Our revenge is doing good work here and living well.” He reaches across the table, drumming his fingers on the dark wood. “You know, Sigma isn’t a normal gang. I’m well aware of our reputation, and there’s a reason that perception exists. But we aren’t like the others.The people here--”
“Jin?” A young girl in a gray shirt, slacks, and an apron stands in the doorway.
Jin turns with a pleasant smile on his face. “Yes, Lisa?”
“Breakfast rush starts in two. Do you want us to cover for you?”
He gets up from the table and claps his hands. “Absolutely not! This is the perfect opportunity for Y/N to see us in action and get a taste of life in our kitchen.” He sends a wink your way. “Come on.”
Lisa’s big eyes turn to you, and she cocks her head, appraising you. She frowns and lets out a quiet hum. “You’ve got a lot of hair...You’ll probably need a big one. Do you have a hair tie?” You shake your head in confusion. “That’s okay.” She reaches into a pocket in her apron and draws out a light brown elastic, motioning for you to come closer. Her hands work through your hair with surprising expertise to pull it into a tight, high puff. “Let’s go get you a net.”
And then she is taking your hand with surprising forwardness. She tugs you through the kitchen and to the front counter where three men and one woman stand talking to one another. They all turn to look at you with polite curiosity.
“Guys, this is the new girl,” Lisa says as she lets go of your hand to grab a hair net. “Be nice to her, okay? It’s only her second day here.”
A tall boy with a long face rolls his eyes. “Aren’t we always nice, Lisa?”
“No,” she says pointedly. “But it’s usually only me that you’re mean to, so I’m not too worried.”
The boy’s face lights up with a bright smile as he walks over to poke Lisa’s cheek and extend a hand to you. “Hi there. I’m Dokyeom. DK.”
His grin is infectious, and you find some of your inhibitions melting away under the heat of it. Between Minghao, V, Annie, Jin, and now Lisa and DK, it seemed like there were actually some pretty kind people working for Sigma. You almost shudder at the idea that you are now counting V as kind even though he kidnapped you.
Lisa interrupts your thoughts, placing a hair net in your hand. “Make conversation later. Breakfast time.” She looks to you with more soft compassion in her features. “You can stand back here, Y/N. Pretty soon you’ll be here on the front lines with us.” She winks as she turns back towards the counter. You stuff your contained but untamed hair--only made more unruly by your attempt to use Annie’s brush--into the net, short, thick curls threatening to burst through.
Jin stands beside you as people enter the scramble, first in a trickle, then in a flood of bobbing heads and groggy conversation. Lisa and DK handle the rush like pros, and the others--Xiumin and Amber, you learn--work beside them like well-oiled machines.
“What do you think, Y/N?” Jin asks. “Think you could manage alongside these fine folks?” He beams with pride at his crew.
You nod, smiling at him. “I really think I can.”
Your observation time in the kitchen ends at about 4 when the other crew comes in to relieve the staff.
“Training time,” Lisa informs you, hanging up her apron and shedding her hair net. She slips her hand into yours again. “Come on, I’ll take you out to the Compound for the basics.”
You vaguely remember V mentioning a training compound, but you hadn’t taken much note of it, assuming you’d never have to set foot in it. The two of you take the elevator to the ground floor and make your way to the doors at the building’s backside. Lisa strides towards a warehouse a few hundred yards away with you in tow.
Inside, the air is heavy with sweat and grunts of exertion. A few men and women jog laps around a track, while others do weight work or practice hand-to-hand combat. You catch sight of V, clad in gray sweatpants and a striped tank top drenched in perspiration. He swings at Jun who dodges the punch gracefully and launches a kick that V avoids just as skillfully.
You hadn’t realized the two boys were so strong, but V’s arms flex formidably with hard-earned musculature and Jun’s shorts reveal toned calves worthy of envy. Out of instinct, Jun turns and catches you staring. You swallow hard and duck your head to hide the blush flowering in your cheeks. Jun laughs.
“Let’s break for a minute, Tae,” he says as V spots you. The two of them jog over.
“Y/N!” he calls happily as he comes to a stop breathlessly in front of you, his joy-filled smile breaking across his face. “Hey, Lisa. You working with Jungkook today?”
“Mm-hmm,” Lisa replies. “Thought I might as well take the opportunity to bring Y/N down here to start training.”
V purses his lips. “So soon? Do you think you’re ready to handle that, Y/N?”
“I-I guess so,” you stammer, still flustered. You scold yourself; you never used to be so easily rattled in the face of potential disaster, but you suppose things are different here amongst mobsters and murderers.
“She’ll be fine,” Jun insists. “Hoseok and I won’t run her into the ground on her first day. Come on, Y/N. Let’s go get you some gear and get started.” Jun flashes a grin and turns on his heel, motioning for you to follow. He takes you to a towering rack against the building’s east wall, and leans against the metal with his elbow as he scans the shelves critically. He pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a loose tank top. “Here you go. Ladies’ locker room’s here--” He points towards the door to the rack’s right. “--and I’ll meet you back here once you’ve changed. And don’t worry, these are clean.”
You thank Jun and disappear into the locker room to slip into the athletic clothes. When you come back out, he stands chatting with a boy about an inch taller than you with black hair molded off his forehead by a handful of gel.
“Y/N, this is Hoseok. The two of us are in charge of training rookies, so you’ll be under our supervision for the next few months.”
Hoseok eyes you skeptically, taking in your anxious figure. “You’re somaticizing.”
“What?” you ask, startled.
“You’re nervous, and it’s showing,” he clarifies with a smirk. You flush and avoid his gaze.
“It's alright, Y/N,” Jun chuckles. “You probably didn't expect to have to train alongside us, right?”
“I didn't think…” You bite your lip. “That I-I would...be, like, a part of the g-gang.”
Jun tentatively lays a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, don’t worry. You won't be going on missions with us. This is for your own safety. There'll be days when you'll be antsy, where you’ll want to get out and get back in the public. And those days will be dangerous because you'll be exposed. You need to know how to protect yourself.”
You sigh with relief, your eyes fluttering shut. “Oh.”
“You didn't really think we'd send you out to fight, did you?” Jun asks incredulously. “We didn’t bring you in here as a recruit. We wouldn’t trick you like that.”
There is vulnerability and honesty in his eyes, and you let yourself believe him.
He flicks his hair out of his eyes as he lets go of your shoulder and jerks his thumb behind him. “Come on. Let’s go establish some baselines.”
Jun accompanies you around the track for two laps, casually chatting with you, and while V, Annie, Jin, and the kitchen staff seem like they’ll ease your transition, it is Jun that you feel most comfortable around. Something about him is oddly authentic. Not that the others are liars, but Jun has an air about him like he has nothing to hide, like he would answer every question you asked him about the crimes he’s committed, the people he’s hurt. And there’s a certain calm you find in that.
“Is Jun your real name?”
“Yes. Junhui, actually, but Jun has been my name forever.” His voice is steady and controlled, while yours wavers as you struggle to draw in breath.
“Why the blue hair?” you pant out.
He chuckles lightly. “Why not?”
Hoseok isn’t nearly as personable, appraising you with a critical eye after each test. Something about his gaze makes you shy in your performance. You can lift thirty-five pounds, but with Hoseok watching you, your arms shake at fifteen. You catch him quirking a cruelly amused eyebrow at the sight, which makes your face redder with exertion and embarrassment.
When the evening rolls around, Hoseok dismisses you curtly. You flop down on a bench, breathing heavily. Jun sits beside you a moment later. He is back in his street clothes.
“You waited?” you pant out.
“Yeah, of course,” he replies with a kind smile. “Didn’t want to leave you all alone after Hoseok just worked you like that.”
You shake your head. “Yeah, what is his deal? He’s really prickly.”
Jun throws his head back and laughs. “Hoseok is one of the nicest people here.” You frown at Jun like he’s lost his mind. “Trust me. He’s just all business when it’s time to be all business.” You look over and see Hoseok chatting with Yoongi as they straighten up the weights station. Hoseok says something, and you see Yoongi smile for the first time. “Also, Yoongi is his best friend, so he’s probably had his opinion of you tainted prematurely.” You groan and put your head in your hands. Of course they were friends. “Don’t worry. If anyone can get over bias quickly, it’s Hobi. He’ll ease up on you soon. Really,” Jun reassures you, patting your knee. “You hungry?”
“I’m sweaty.”
Jun laughs again. “Then go hit the showers, and then we’ll get dinner.”
You nod, and make your way to locker room again. True to his word, Jun is still there when you reemerge, feeling much cleaner and, indeed, much hungrier. This time, he is talking to a black-haired man a little shorter than him.
“Ah, you ready now, Y/N?” Jun asks as you approach. The man he was talking to turns, and you recognize him as the other conversationalist from Namjoon’s office. He tilts his head and flashes you a sly, confident smile.
“Settling in okay, Y/N?” he asks in a gravelly baritone.
“Y-Yes,” you manage.
“Have you met Seungcheol?” Jun gestures to the man, who holds out a hand for you.
“Only briefly,” Seungcheol answers. You shake his hand with a firm grip.
“Seungcheol’s one of the big three,” Jun explains. “He’s the head of the covert operations division here. My division,” he adds with pride.
“Leader of the Intelligence Unit,” he says, tipping his head with a wink, “Choi Seungcheol. Ever at your service.”
“Well, it’s nice to officially be introduced, Seungcheol.” You return his charming grin with a much shyer smile. He withdraws his hand and slides it into the pocket of his black slacks. You don’t mean to look him up and down, but you take in his classy, well-dressed figure, tailored black shirt tucked into his ebony pants with a silver buckled belt. He radiates shadowy power. Seungcheol flicks his hair out of his eyes.
Jun claps his hands. “Dinner, everyone?”
The three of you chat casually as you walk to the mess. Much to your horror, Jun leads your small party to where Hoseok sits, Yoongi’s unreadable eyes flashing to your face as you seat yourself between Jun and Seungcheol. He casts his scrutiny back down to his food after an agonizing moment and doesn’t bring up the elephant resting in your past interactions and looming in your half of the present.
“It was a decent max, Y/N,” Hoseok says suddenly, drawing your attention to him. His eyes still hold that glimmer of analysis. “Not really good by most standards, but a decent starting point.” He takes a bite of his dinner and looks at Yoongi briefly with the hint of a mischievous smile. “You’d never be part of my team, that’s for sure.”
Being mocked restores some of your fighting spirit; you’d never been one to take condescension and patronizing lightly. You put your fork down deliberately and furrow your eyebrows. “And what team is it that you’re part of, exactly?”
Hoseok looks taken aback. “I’m the head of our Combat Unit,” he says matter-of-factly as he swallows.
You toss your hair, and Jun eyes you with surprise at your boldness. “The head of the Combat Unit? Because I’ve been told there’s only three bosses here, and if I recall, none of their names matched yours.”
Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to look surprised. He stares at you like you’ve just sprouted a third eye in the middle of your forehead.
The laugh that starts in Hoseok’s chest is small at first, almost dry and humorless, but it blossoms into a miniature fit of hysteria. He can barely get the words out between giggles. “The Combat Unit is a subunit of Seungcheol’s Intelligence Team.” You’re determined to keep your gaze fixed on Hoseok, but you see Seungcheol nod out of the corner of your eye in confirmation. “We’re the most elite group of fighters in Sigma, and I’m in charge of training every single member.” His laugh renews itself as embarrassment curls around your throat.
The leader of a damn subunit...the most elite subunit in all of Sigma.
Your hubris has cost you.
Cheeks burning, you sit up straighter at the table, determined to preserve the little bit of pride that remains in you. “Just because you can fight like a badass,” you mutter as you stab at a tomato in your salad, “doesn’t mean you have to be an ass to me.”
Seungcheol chokes on his drink, and Jun shoots you a look of bewilderment. Seungcheol throws an arm around your shoulder after he cleans his chin with a napkin.
“I like this one,” he laughs. Yoongi rolls his eyes with a scowl and goes back to ignoring your existence while Hoseok sniffs, gaze flitting unaffectedly across your face before he gives a brief smile and starts up a discussion with Jun.
You are grateful that Seungcheol monopolizes conversation time with you for the rest of dinner, but you can’t help but glance at Hoseok every few minutes, trying to convey how irritated he’s made you after only knowing you for a few hours.
You are surprised every time you lift your eyes to him that his gaze is already on you.
#BTS#BTS scenario#mafia au#gang au#angst#BTS mafia au#BTS gang au#BTS angst#EXO#EXO scenarios#EXO mafia au#EXO gang au#EXO angst#SEVENTEEN#SEVENTEEN scenarios#SEVENTEEN mafia au#SEVENTEEN gang au#SEVENTEEN angst#BLACKPINK#f(x)
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