#armored-limousine
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War on the Mists :Author April #2
(This was another novel I was working on. The characters are ones I have used before and would love to use again. Heloise is one of my favorite OC I've ever created, and she's stayed with me forever. I was also super-duper into Revolutionary Girl Utena at the time. Anyways, this was my take on the Arthurian legends. There is a lot more to this if you all want to see the rest.)
Chapter One:
Just beyond the gates of Cleatom Academy is a wide polished stone with a slit in it’s center. It sits in the center of a wide, shallow pond. Water pours continuously from the slit, filling the pond and creating a simplistic work of art for all those you come to the school to see. The students referred to it as Stone Lake.
I had seen Stone Lake first through a brochure that I had come across when I had finally convinced my father to take me off home schooling. It took some hard work and heavy screaming to convince him to let me attend Cleatom. But I already knew all about Cleatom Academy. It is an academy was for the children of powerful people, people like my father. It was a place to turn the children of said people into equally powerful people, the kind of person I was afraid of becoming. Despite my dislike of the place and it’s populace I am looking forward to the transfer. There was a reason I had been needling my father for years about Cleatom. Not only is it a boarding school, which meant I would be able to breathe, I’d be out from my father’s oppressive, suffocating house. But there was something much more. Something I had been fighting for since I was a child. I would be able to see my brother Ty. The most beloved person in my life and someone who has been kept too far out of reach from me for too long.
The moment I was dropped off at Cleatom, I couldn’t help but smile as my father’s limousine pulled away from the boarding house. I laughed out loud even as I stood in the center of my room. I wasn’t even mad when they told me I’d have a roommate within a few days. Please, I begged the air, let it be someone normal! I didn’t have much time to celebrate though, as I wanted to get some sleep for school. But when my mind keep whirring and clicking, thinking about Ty and how I’d get to see him everyday. I just couldn’t turn off completely. I got up extremely early the next morning, the light outside gray and fog as far as the eye could see. I got into my school uniform, a white blouse with a form fitting black vest over the top of it and then a gray plaid skirt. There was also a silvery gray tie and the school’s emblem emblazoned as a pin at my throat. I got to wear whatever shoes and accessories I wanted the head master had explained to me like it mattered. For me, clothes were just the armor I put on for my father and the people he surrounds himself with. Since that was no longer necessary for my defense, I had my attendant back home help me order a pair of high top sneakers in my favorite color, red. I also bought for myself an assortment of odd and colorful knee socks. I was only ever allowed to wear tights or hose before.
Then put on my sneakers for the first time. I never knew comfort like this. I then slipped on the beaded bracelet Angie, my attendant, made for me and went out the door.
The hall was quiet and I heard no activity from the other rooms. But as I began descending the stairs I came across several girls who I assumed to be the attendants of the girls in the dorm. They seemed surprised to see me on the stairs, or just even there. I now wish I had allowed Angie to come with me, but I’m glad she’s getting some respite. Maybe I’ll call her here next semester.
I walk outside, shrouded in mist and cool damp air. I walk through the garden that surrounds the girl dormitories. They have all sorts of plants growing, its very beautiful in the light. Several classes have the students raise and cultivate their own plants. I made sure to sign up for one. I stop just before the gate leading out of the dormitory village and walk off towards the herb patch. The ground is freshly upturned and sprouts are peeking out all over. I think of the little clay pot that sat on my balcony. Angie and I began it when I was twelve. I’m sure she took it home with her to take care of it. At least I hope she did.
I look up, fairly sure I sensed a presence around me. I saw the swaying of the willow trees branches, but nothing else. I stood, looking forward, knowing I could feel eyes on me from somewhere in the mists. I take a cold breath. My lungs freezing as I turn and unlock the gate into the cobble stone path leading to the school.
Stone Lake was much smaller than I pictured. Then again, compared to the castle the school had been built into, everything looked smaller. The stone rested slightly above me. And the small shallow pond wasn’t even deep enough to hold fish. By the time I had come to the pond and sat for a moment students were arriving, not just from the dormitory village but in limos and cars coming through the front gates like I had yesterday. I watched as these cars pulled up at the doors, letting out their pristine cargo. I watched my new classmates. I watched for Ty.
I then heard laughing from around the other side of the stone and when I leaned out slightly I saw a group of girls walking away. All laughing and tossing their hair. It was a victory lap for them. I walked around to see what was so funny and saw a girl sitting in the water, her head down low.
I went towards the girl, standing up on the rocks to get level with her. “Are you alright?” I held my hand out towards her.
The girl looked up, her berry red hair plastered to her face. Her eyes were wide and gold, peering out frightened behind strands of shining hair. I tilted myself down towards her.
“Did they push you in here?” I held my hand out to the girl again.
The girl opened her mouth then closed it, lowering her head and began shuffling her hands through the water. I stepped up onto the platform and kneeled down beside the girl. “Did you loose something?”
“My glasses,” the girl murmured.
I began looking around too. “What do they look like?” I was feeling about the water beside her.
“Silver, with pearl accents.” The girl said.
I looked down to her left and saw the glasses hanging on a shrub. I picked them up and cleaned them with my sleeve. Smiling, I extended them to her. “Here.”
The girl quickly took then and placed them on her face. She looked up at me and nodded, pressing her lips firmly together. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” I replied. “Are you ok? Do you need me to help take you back to the dormitories?”
The girl stood up and smoothed her hand down utterly soaked skirt.
“You must be freezing.” I moved to remove my coat and the girl began stepping out of the water, moving quickly away from me.
“No, I’m fine, thank you.” She picked up her bag from the ground. “You’re an Emerald, you shouldn’t have to.”
I touched the jeweled bauble on my throat, attached to the top of the school uniform tie. It was the school emblem, but encrusted with emeralds. “What do you mean?” I followed after her.
The girl lifted her chin, touching her tie pin. Instead of emerald, her pin was pearl. I arched my brow at this, thinking that all the pins would be the same. “I’m a Pearl,” the girl continued. “And you are an Emerald.”
“I’m sorry,” I was shaking my head. “But I’m new here. I’m not sure what you mean.”
The girl pulled her wet hair and placed it in a heavy bundle on her shoulder. “I am beneath you.” She said simply and walked away. I wanted to follow after her but I had a feeling she‘d be even more humiliated if I did. I decided instead it would be best to find Ty.
Cleatom Academy had been built into and expanded from a castle made of white stone. I’m sure all the students felt even more superior because of this. True royalty! I walked up the ramp into the doors and into the commons area. It was like the food court in a mall. There was a coffee bar, a cupcake place, many tables and chairs as well as several large overly stuffed sofas and recliners. It certainly didn’t look like an antiquated castle.
“Good morning Cleatom!” A voice sang from the speaker system. “It’s another lovely day and I have just a few announcements before we all go to home room. We have three new students joining us today. Gregory W. Mansfield, Diamond. Heloise E. Boniface, Emerald. And Samantha B.D. Lewis, Ruby. Let’s be sure to greet them warmly!” I did not like the sound of my voice being introduced. “Students with birthdays today make sure to make your way to Sweetie Belle Cupcakes today for your complementary birthday cupcake. Today’s special is a chocolate, strawberry glace cupcake with an extra large chocolate covered strawberry on top. Yum!” I also didn’t like how scripted the yum bit sounded.
I walked around a gaggle of girls heading for the cupcake shop then and began zigzagging my way through the tables and chairs. “Also, would Heloise Boniface report to the sound booth.” The over head voice said.
I froze, what did they want with me?
“You can find your way there by heading to the glass elevator and pressing the button labeled SB3.” The voice continued with it’s wide awake voice. “You are in for a surprise.”
As I made my way to the elevator I knew I was the topic of the hour. Most heads turned and looked my way. Girls bent to whisper into ears, their eyes trailing me. Luckily the elevator was unoccupied when I entered. I pressed the button, a shiny chrome one with the letters and numerals illuminated behind it. Once the button was pressed the lettering flashed bright green. I was jostled for a moment as the elevator sprang to life, pulling me up above the crowd and through the levels of the castle until I reached the third floor.
The elevator opened up into a dimly lit room full of dark furniture. Beyond this I saw a huge white room behind glass brightly lit and glowing compared to the room before it. There someone inside talking into an old fashioned microphone and working a control panel of buttons. He removed the headphones he was wearing and pressed a button. Behind me, I could hear music playing in the elevator.
The man inside came out of the white room, running his fingers through his brick red hair. “It’s been a while.” The voice from the announcements said.
I furrowed my brow at him. “Excuse me?”
He turned on a light, illuminating the dark room. “Surely, you remember me a little.”
I stared, recognizing the freckled face, the deep brown eyes. Mainly the toothy smile. “Ty!” I flung my bag aside and ran into his open arms. I noticed that Ty’s pin was ruby.
“I’ve been waiting on you forever.” Ty said, stroking my hair. He stepped back, bracing his hands on my shoulders. “You haven’t grown an inch!”
I scowled at him. My height had always been an issue with my father and a joke with some of the staff. “Some heart warming greeting.” I brushed his hand away and began pacing the room slowly. “What is this?”
“The sound booth where I make all the announcements.” Ty said, following behind me. Mimicking my posture and how I held my hands behind my back. “Normally I have groupies, but I chased them off so I could have you by myself.”
“How kind.” Rolling my eyes, I smile. “Why do they let you make the announcements?”
“I’m the House Speaker,” Ty replied. “I’m an elected official.” He mocked snapping suspenders.
I turned towards him, raising my eyebrows. “Elected?”
“Student government,” Ty said, putting his hands on his hips and cocked his head to the side. “I’m a pretty powerful person around here.”
“I bet Mrs. Jerrick is so proud.” I sniffed.
Ty laughed. “Of course not. Not when my sister is the VP!”
I looked back at him. He was talking about his half sister Cordelia Jerrick. Poor Ty was born between worlds. The bastard love child of my father and Mrs. Jerrick a world renowned business woman of the cosmetics industry. “So, are you meeting me illegally then?” I looked back towards the elevator doors then, just expecting Cordelia Jerrick to burst forth with soldiers, ordering I be tar and feathered.
“I made the announcement over the intercom, she would have been here by now if that was the case.” Ty replied, a smile in his voice. “She knows she has no control over me here.” He then reached out, taking my pin gently between his fingers. “Lucky you. You’re an Emerald.”
“I don’t get that.” I tap the expensive bauble on my throat. “What do these pins mean?” I had thought my father had simply chosen the Emerald because it was the most expensive.
Ty sighed, leaning back against the wall. “This school has a sort of…caste system.” My eyes widened at this. “It goes all the way from the working class students who serve the higher students, up to the most elite.”
He explained it all to me starting with amber, said working class. Most Amber students are actually the staff of the higher up students. That explained the maids I saw this morning.
He went on to the Pearls, which are students who are children of teachers or have scholarships. The girl this morning was a Pearl. This probably also explains why she was the victim of those girls. She was beneath them, like she said.
Then there are the Diamonds, students who are at the top of their classes or students who have celebrity. He explained that even Pearl students who have worked their way up can become Diamonds.
Rubies, like Ty, are next and they are the children of people who have donated a large amount of money. “Bought students, we’re called.” Ty smirked, somewhat proudly.
Then there was my group the Emeralds. A good combination of Diamond and Ruby. Students whose parents have donated large sums of money. These students could have been Rubies at one point, but moved up the rank because of celebrity status, grades, and etc.
“Then there are the Sapphires, like Cordelia.” Ty hesitated for a moment, gauging my somewhat disturbed expression to it all. “Sapphires are the elites, those who have all of the above and then some.”
I cleared my throat after a moment of it sinking in. “How is she a sapphire when you’re just a ruby?”
Ty laughed “You forget, I’m a bastard.” He put his arm around my shoulder and began leading me out the door. “I had to be bought.” As we approached the elevator it dinged and the door swished open, revealing the young man inside.
“Just in time,” Ty looked at the young man. “Heloise, this is John Whitney,” I saw that the boy’s pin was diamond. “He is going to be your guide.”
“Oh?” I looked from Ty then at John. “That isn’t necessary.”
“I think you’ll find it will be,” John said, a gentle chuckle to his voice. “This place isn’t easy to navigate for a first timer. It’s code that the Student Government assign a guide to each new student for as long as they need them.”
I nodded. “Well then, if it’s mandatory…” I looked John over. He looked like he was a football player from his build. His purposefully tousled dark blonde hair, hiding a scar on his forehead just so. His eyes were the a sort of hazel and gold color. His teeth bleached white. But there was a crookedness to his tie I liked, showed he wasn’t perfect.
“I was chosen because all our classes match up.” John replied, extending his arm and allowing me to stand in the elevator. “The Student Government normally tries to match up girls with girls and such, but I was the only one who matched.”
“It’s quite alright.” I waved to Ty as the doors shut. “I get along better with boys anyways.”
“So,” John said, pushing a button for the fifth floor, “what school did you go to before Cleatom?”
“I was home schooled actually. Well,” I set my bag at my feet. “My father hired tutors.”
John bobbed his head politely. “So what made him send you here?” He looked me over then, knowing Ty couldn’t see his eyes wander. “Excuse me if I’m being a pest.” His eyes immediately snap to my eyes.
I smiled, still looking forward. “No, you’re fine. But, I asked to come here. I’ve been fighting my dad about for a long time.”
John furrowed his brow. “What made him change his mind?”
“My dad is a gambler,” I looked over at John and his raised eyebrows, “so I made him a bet.”
John looked surprised. “What kind of bet.”
I put my finger to my lips as the elevator doors whooshed open into a crowded hallway. I gently dipped to grab my bag and slung it back over my shoulder. John walked a good few paces behind me, like one of my father’s bodyguards.
Turning and looking at him I snapped, “what? Student Government doesn’t allow you to walk beside me?”
“Well,” John blushed. “You are an Emerald, Ms. Boniface.” I arched my brows high at the fact he had referred to me in such a way. “It is not normally-”
I took a step back, aligning myself with him. “It’s not a rule is it?”
“No,” John swallowed, looking around. “Just…tradition.”
I then snapped my fingers, surprising him again. “Oh, do you know a lot of the students here?”
John nodded, swallowing. I was making him nervous. “It’s part of my role in the Student Government.”
I slide my bag down into the crook of my elbow. “Do you know a girl with really, really bright red hair? Almost like a lip-gloss color?” I motioned with her hands the style of the girl’s hair. “Also, wears glasses,” I mimed glasses.
John smirked at my monkeying and thought for a moment. “Maybe that’s Den Anais.” He said. “Why do you ask? You know her?”
I shook my head, looking towards the floor. “No, I just saw some girls push her into the fountain out front this morning. I tried to help her but she brushed me off.”
He nodded, sighing somewhat sadly. “Then that must be Den.”
I must of looked disgusted because his eyes took on an apologetic look. “Does that happen to her a lot?”
John shrugged, opening a door for me. “Sometimes. But I don’t work in her department of the Student Government.”
I balked. “She’s in the Student Government?”
“Hand picked by Head Master Emrys. She’s the Advisor.” John shrugged. “She’s sort of like…a personal consultant. She plans all the school events and dances and the like.”
“You think with a role like that people would like her.” I mumbled as we walked into the classroom. History was my first class, a class the dean of admissions said I would enjoy.
“Oh welcome, you must be Heloise.” I looked up sideways as a man in a dark green suit approached. “I’m Professor Lourdes.” He held out a thin pale hand to me.
“Uhm, yes.” I took his hand, it was warm and smooth. “Thank you for letting me in. I had been told you were full up.”
Professor Lourdes smiled, removing his thin wire glasses. He was an exceptionally striking man, young and beautiful for a teacher. “History is a much more popular a field than I anticipated.”
Something about his smile though told me he knew it was because of his looks. “But I was more than happy to make a spot.” He waved his hand out. “Please, take a seat anywhere. I’m not picky.” He left, walking up to the white board and his desk.
John leaned to whisper to her. “His class is so popular because-”
“Because he’s so good looking?” I finished for him. “Easy to see now why history would be packed.”
We took our seats at a two chair table in the back. The seats were overstuffed rolling chairs. I had one just like it at home. Father had got it for me when I began complaining about my back during lessons.
“Ari is a good teacher though. He’s also the one who over sees the Student Government.” John explained quickly. “He gives a lot of extra credit and he takes us out on a lot of field trips. They’re mainly trips to museums mind you, but he makes the experience interesting.”
I found I couldn’t take my eyes off Professor Ari Lourdes. He was a lithe mover, and his handwriting was impeccable. “Put a long wig on him and he’d pass for a girl, he’s that pretty.”
John snorted. “I’ve actually heard several girls trying to convince him to do such a thing for the costume balls.”
We both exchanged smiles and then began taking out our text books and such.
My attention turned to Cordelia as she walked through the door at that moment. John continued talking, but I didn’t hear him.
Cordelia was tall and blonde, the kind of girl my father wishes I was. And she sauntered right over to Professor Ari’s desk and sat on its corner like she owned the place. She tousled her hair and laughed, slightly turning to see who was watching her, because she knew everyone was. That’s when her gray eyes fell on me. Her expression becoming instantly blank. Her eyes almost bleeding disgust.
John tugged on my sleeve. “Heloise?”
I didn’t move. “Yes?”
“Are you familiar with the Jerrick family?”
Cordelia was turning and whispering to Professor Ari. I looked at John then.
“I’m only close to Ty.”
John gave me a wary smile. “Cordelia certainly doesn’t seem happy to see you.”
I laughed. “That’s putting it gently.” I cupped my hand under my chin and looked at Professor Ari, trying his best to act genteel with Cordelia.
“She’s the vice president of the Student Government.” John whispered.
I scoffed, rapping my fingers against my jaw. “Now that, I did know.” I smiled back at John. He raised his brow. “She’s part of that bet I mentioned earlier.”
John raised his brows. “Oh?”
I laughed. “Oh, indeed!” I leaned closer to John. “I bet if I acted like I was flirting with you, Cordelia would swoop in and steal you away from me.”
John smiled somewhat deviously, his eyes glancing over to Cordelia and then back to me. “You’re that confidant in her evil, are you?”
I nodded. “If there is one thing I know about Cordelia Jerrick, it’s that she absolutely hates me.” I then reach out, adjusted John’s crooked tie, my fingers lingering ever so.
“Sorry about this.” I snicker.
“Oh please!” John laughs. “I don’t mind at all.”
I then reach up, playing with John’s bangs. “What’s she doing?”
John glances aside for me then looks back at me as I drop my hand. “You should be dead.”
We both burst out laughing, and in that moment Cordelia is standing beside me.
John blanches some, but I look up at her like it is the most casual thin in the world. I am more than prepared to deal with Cordelia Jerrick, in fact, its what I’ve been planning on.
“Why,” Cordelia gasps prettily but it sounds more like a war cry. “Heloise Boniface! What a splendid surprise.” She says splendid like it’s painful, like she’d rather wretch bile.
I nod softly. “Hello, Cordelia.”
Cordelia’s eyes flicker over to John then back to me. “I had no idea you’d be attending Cleatom.” She seems to be running out of nice things to say. “Is Whitney here your escort?”
I look over at John and smile charmingly, he blushes some. “Why yes! He’s a lovely boy, isn’t he?” I reach out, putting my hand over his. “I’m thinking about asking Daddy to hire him as my valet for the summer.”
Cordelia’s tongue to captured between her cinched teeth as she smiles. “Oh? Well how wonderful for you, Whitney.” She then squints her eyes at me in an attempt to smile, but it comes out all wrong. “I will have to talk to you later, Heloise.” She turns on her heel just as the bell rings.
“I feel sick.” John whispers to me.
I look at him apologetically. “I am so sorry.”
“I’ve never felt anything like that!” John chuckles, relieved. “I knew she could be something of a bitch, but I had no idea it was anything like that.”
“If she gives you any trouble, just let me know. I can handle her.” I quickly tack on, “Ty too.”
He nods at me. “You’re the bravest woman in the world.”
A smile perks up at the corner of my mouth. “It’s just one blonde girl.”
We both look up in attention as Professor Lourdes begins speaking. He’s writing on the board in his lovely script and we all follow his instruction. My eyes glance over at Cordelia who is also stealing look at me. She turns away, and whispers to the girl beside her.
John elbows me. “And thus one becomes two.”
We both snicker.
“Quite in the back!” Professor Lourdes chuckles authoritatively.
John and I cover our mouths, trying to surprise our huge grins.
I look to John and nod. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
I shrug. “Just for being on my side I suppose.”
Chapter Two:
I didn’t go with John to the cafeteria at lunch. Instead I walked back out to the front gate and sat by Stone Lake. I pulled an apple from my bag and took tiny bites out of it. I was neither hungry nor interested in mingling with my fellow students. At least not yet. Considering the only ones I’d want to sit with would be Ty or John, are a Ruby and Diamond respectively. They are both technically beneath me. I doubt I’d be allowed by this ridiculous Caste system to even sit by them.
“It’s you again.” I turned to look up above me at the stone. Standing there was the girl from this morning. I stood, standing back up on the platform and waving to her. She smiled back, nodding gently.
“You seem attracted to this place.”
“It’s peaceful.” I put my hands against my hips. “And I love being around water.”
Den stepped down from the stone and into the water of the fountain, pulling her long skirt up as she did so. “Thank you for the help this morning.”
I bobbed my head slightly. I was unsure of what to make of her newfound friendliness. “Of course. Umm-”
“Sorry if I was a bit rude.” Den waded through the water until she stood before me. “I was scared, so I wasn’t much of a people person.”
“No, of course.” I was shaking my head. “I’m Heloise.”
Den beamed. “Heloise Boniface, yes! You’re new today.” Den stepped out of the water and onto the cobblestone surrounding it. “Ty has been anxious.”
John had mentioned she was on the Student Government. It had actually never occurred to me that she and Ty might know one another, talk to each other as friends. My surprised expression has Den explaining.
“Ty and I talk a lot during meetings.” Den twirls slightly. “He says you came here against your father’s wishes.”
I fold my arms behind my back. This is a gesture I take from my father. A gesture that Angie says makes me look like an old man. “That’s right.”
“But you are meant to be here.”
“Excuse me?”
Den stepped off the fountain and into her shoes just below. “Oh nothing.” She giggled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Are you busy at the moment?”
I shake my head. “No. Why?”
“C’mon, just follow me.” Den waved her hand to follow and began walking back towards the school. I sling my bag back over my shoulder and walk off after Den.
“We have a special gallery here at the school.” Den explained as we walk, bypassing the glass elevator and going behind it to a small service type elevator. Den pulled open the little iron gate and allowed me to step in first. She closed the gate behind her and locked it.
“Professor Lourdes helped piece it together, but not a lot of students know about it. It’s mainly a sanctuary for the Student Government.”
I tilt my head to my shoulder “Then why tell me?”
Den just smiled, pulling hard on the lever that began dropping the us down and down. “This place has a basement?” I ask, amazed.
“This old place has a lot of hidden places inside.” Den replied, looking up at the darkening ceiling.
I could feel the air dampen and chill around me. I wrapped my arms around me, wondering just how far down Den was going to take me. I pictured a cave below the school, massive caverns and alters like the Phantom had under the PAris Opera house.
The lift came to a jolting stop and Den unlocked the little gate and opened it wide, stepping out before me this time. I looked around, it was a massive round room. The walls decorated with tapestries and elegant paintings. Between these hangings were suits of armor, and in the center of it a wide, round table.
“Wow,” I murmured as I looked around, setting my bag on the table. I walk around the table, my fingertips gliding along the smooth, gilded edges.
“The student government meets here most of the time.” Den said, walking around the table, aiming herself at the suit of armor at the very back of the room. It was different from the rest, for one, it was on a raised pedestal and it was more golden. Also, although it’s hands were posed in such a way, it was not holding a sword.
“This one is my favorite.” She said, dusting at the helmet with her hand.
“What is all this stuff?” I asked, approaching a suit of armor that had long green feathers coming down from the top of the helmet.
“It’s a story,” Den said, folding her hands behind her back and turning towards me. “A history really.”
I had the long green feather between my thumb and forefinger. “Of what?” I gently rub the feather, a feeling of nostalgia washes over me and I feel warm and proud inside. The feeling disappears as I release the feather.
“Something that is thought to be make believe these days.” Den sighed, still dusting at the suit of armor. She places her hands over the gold golves, like she reassuring an old friend. “But, it is all tribute to a great king.” She smiles sadly.
I shrug, sitting on the edge of the table and pulling my apple back out from my pocket. “Like King Arthur or something?” I bite into the apple.
“The very same.” Den exclaimed. “Do you like Arthurian legend, Ms. Boniface?”
I grimaced at her formality. “Heloise, please.” Den looked surprised. “And yeah, I’ve heard a bed time story or two about King Arthur.”
Den seemed disappointed. “Only bedtime stories?” A hand slips away from the armor as she turns to face me.
I slide back off the table and walk towards her. “They were the only ones my dad would actually read to me.” I touched the shining helmet of the suit of armor before me. It had a blue, tartan sash going across its chest. “I always wanted Excalibur.”
Den smiled brightly at this. “Oh?”
“Dad said I couldn’t have it though, because Dagonet threw it into the lake.” I looked back at Den. “Is this whole school based on those stories? Castle and all?”
Den shrugged. “Perhaps.” She then sighed and looked down at her watch which had begun beeping. “Excuse me for a moment.” She turned off the alarm then disappeared down a hallway next to the lift.
I walked around the table, looking at each suit of armor and the paintings between them. Knights brandishing their swords, bowing before a king, being awestruck by ethereal women. I then stood before the gold armor, missing it’s weapon. Its mate. I reached up, cupping the helmet in my hand. It felt warm to the touch.
I was so captivated by the armor I didn’t hear the elevator churning behind me. I only noticed it when the creaky gate opened and shut with a tight clang. Turning I found Professor Ari Lourdes standing behind me, a book in one hand a sack lunch in the other.
He saw me. Even though he was some ways away, and his glasses covering them, I could see his green eyes widen.
“Ms. Boniface,” he took a tentative step forward as my hand slipped from the armor and turned from it, and folded my arms behind my back.
Ari removed his glasses. “What are you doing down here?”
I dipped my head to the side. “Den was giving me a tour.”
“Den?” Ari pocketed his glasses. “That’s odd, she’s normally so…shy.” His breath seemed to falter, seeing me posed before the golden armor.
I pointed my thumb over my shoulder. “What happened to it?”
“Pardon?”
I turned back towards the suit of armor. “This suit is missing it’s mate.” I say, laying my hands over those of the armor. “Den said you helped piece together this exhibit.”
“Ah yes, well, that is said to be a replica of King Arthur’s armor.” Ari replied as he walked around the table towards them.
I cup my hands around the gold gloves, thinking that they seemed small. My hands could fit inside them perfectly. “Then where is Excalibur?”
“At the bottom of a lake.” I looked up, Ari standing a few inches behind me. He smiled, “or so legend has it.”
I smiled back. “I believe that is the main theory, yes.”
“The head master of the school has always been fascinated with the stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. His whole family in fact, dating back to the founding of this school.” Ari said, taking a seat at the table. “They wanted to be able to teach children to be chivalrous and brave like Arthur and his knights.”
My smile turns smug for a moment as the idea dawns on me. “So then, the Student Government is very much an attempt to copy the Round Table?”
Ari laughs looking at the table. “You’ve caught on to that, have you?”
My hand glides across the back of Ari‘s chair as I walk by. “A round table surrounded by suits of armor.” I want to tousle his hair but I draw my hand away. “It isn’t hard to catch the drift.”
“I read your records your tutors provided,” Ari said, watching me as I stopped two chairs away. “You’re…you’re actually quite brilliant, Ms. Boniface. You’re father is breeding you to be a great leader.”
“A leader of companies.” I spat hatefully.
Ari looked taken aback by this. “Do you not want to inherit your father’s dynasty?”
I whirl around in a viciously cyclone. “I want my own dynasty!” My hand slams down on the table.
My wild hair flying about my head, falling on my shoulders. Catching myself in his eyes I straighten my back, regaining myself. “I want to build something…with my own…two hands.”
“You could do it.”
I glance quickly at him and then away again. I felt near tears. “He, my father, would never allow it.”
I comb my fingers through my hair then tossed it back over my shoulders. Now that I didn’t have stylists to fashion my hair sleek straight or into to corkscrew curls it was beginning to return to it’s natural wild lion’s mane.
“He didn’t even want me to come here. Afraid I’ll learn to fight him.”
Ari chuckled. “Looks like you already know how to do that.”
Aside from his beauty, it was easy to see why his classes were always filled up. He could see me. Behind all my armor and father’s make-up he could see me. He knew how to reach people by that, too.
I laugh. Covering my hand with my mouth. “Yes. I suppose so.”
“I was surprised when I first saw you,” Ari said, opening his sack lunch. “You and Ty look an awful lot alike.” He pulled out an apple. “The only thing he shares with Cordelia is a name.” He said Cordelia’s name with an acidic bite.
I smile. Not just because he said Ty and I look like siblings but because he could also see through Cordelia. “That’s probably why Cordelia hates us.”
Ari laughed. A knowing glint glowing in his eyes. He looked up though as Den came back into the room.
“I’m done now.” Rather than seem surprised by Professor Lourdes, she smiles knowingly and quite brightly. “Oh, Professor Lourdes, how are you?”
He nods towards her. “I’m fine Den. Glad to see you befriending Ms. Boniface.”
“Heloise.” I corrected him.
Den smiled, not answering him. She turned to me and waved her hand to the elevator. “Ready to go? Classes will restart soon.”
I go back and pick up my bag. “Thanks for the chat, Professor Lourdes.”
He smiles. “Ari.” He corrects. I turn but he touches my elbow. “If you need help catching up to the rest of the students, my door is always open. I’ll help you in any subject you need. Heloise.”
“That’s very nice of you.” I feel my cheeks warm at his touch. “Might take you up on it.” I nod then head back to Den who is smiling at Ari. She follows me into the elevator and shuts it tight.
As the lift clatters back to the student commons, John is waiting for me. He is leaning against the wall reading a book. He stands in attention like a soldier as Den and I step out.
Den tilts her head at me. “Did you enjoy the gallery?”
“Very much.” I nod. “Thank you, Den.”
Den nods then flits off without a word. I stare after her, confused.
“She’s an odd one.” John says. He begins to say something else when the music for the student announcements comes on. “Oh bother.” John huffs. We stand in the middle of the commons.
“Hello Cleatom Academy!” Ty’s voice echoes. “Afternoon classes have been canceled for today.” A low roar comes from the commons as students cheer for their good fortune. “I know? Isn’t that just the bee knees?” I smile picturing Ty in his box. “But feel free to use the rooms for study. Also, it’s happy hour at The Creamery Coffee Shop. All drinks half off!”
Another low roar.
“Want some coffee?” John asks.
I shake my head. “Uhm, no thank you. I think I’ll just go back to my room for now.” I say. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, though.”
John nods as we begin to separate. “I’ll meet you in Professor Lourdes classroom.” He waves and vanishes into the growing crowd aiming for the coffee shop.
I turn on my heel and head back towards the lift. I go to wrench it open when I realize it is gone. I hear it below, churning and working it’s way up. I step aside and watch is rise. I see inside a couple inside. I recognize the sleek golden hair as Cordelia and I step further into the shadows. I see the man she’s with, tall and slender with dark hair. My jaw drops as he walks out, pulling Cordelia with his lips. They separate briefly before she has him locked again.
“I really must go.” Ari is breathless.
“Oh fine.” Cordelia pouts girlishly. She stays in the elevator. “I’ll see you later then, darling?”
Darling?
Ari smiled. “Of course.” He waves her off as she turns the elevator back on.
Disappearing below again. I look at Ari and watch him adjust his tie and collar. He wipes at his mouth and smoothes out his hair. He produces the apple he had been eating when I left him and takes a bite. He then walks away and into the glass elevator.
I’m not sure what to feel. Shock definitely. Betrayal? But why? I don’t even know Professor Lourdes. I only had a brief chat with him a moment ago. But he was nice to me. He listened to me. I thought he saw me. I thought he saw Cordelia.
Why Cordelia?
I slide to the floor. Bewilderment sweeping over my brain. I think about Ari’s apple and decide to throw mine away. It’s probably brown by now. I go to reach for it and notice a little red book in my bag. I take it out. It was the book Ari had been carrying when he first came into the room. How did it get in my bag?
The cover it soft cloth. Once it had been deep red but it was faded now, but the gold emblem emblazoned on the front was just as dazzling as it must have been when it was first published. The gold lion on the front matched the one on the school pins. I opened it up and a pressed flower fell out into my lap. Picking it up I realize it’s a lilac. I read the title page.
Merlin’s Arthur
I flip through the pages and something else slips from the pages. It’s heavy and cold. When I hold it in my palm I see it’s a key, a lion head serving as the top. It’s mouth gaped open, the key serving as its tongue. And engraved on it’s tongue was my name.
Chapter Three:
The academy has long since emptied out and I sit alone at Stone Lake. I thumb the key in my hand, wondering what it means. Did Professor Lourdes give this to me? I hold it against my chest, looking up at the dim windows of the academy. I wonder if he is still in his room? Was he expecting me to take him up on that study session?
“I can see you out there.”
I let out a yelp as a voice booms out over the empty campus. I huff, flustered. Realizing Ty has seen me some how.
“I’ll meet you in the commons.” Ty says and then the intercom goes quite.
I stand. Placing the key in the pocket of my vest before I walk back to the academy. I go in and wait before the glass elevator for Ty. I keep finding myself glancing at the little iron elevator behind. Why do I care what Professor Lourdes does? I convince myself its because it was Cordelia. Nothing more.
The glass elevator swings open and Ty comes out. He’s out of his school uniform, weAring only a pair of jeans and a dark t-shirt. “Wanna have some fun?”
I shrug. “Depends.”
Ty loops his arm around my neck and leads me away. We walk for a long time in silence. It’s hard to think we’ve been separated from one another for ten years now.
“I have a wonderful evening planned,” he tells be just before we reach the dorms.
I look up at him, his arm serving as my scarf. “Oh really?”
He smiles impishly. “You are a very lucky lady. Many women fight for the hand of Ty Jerrick, but only you can have it.”
I scoff at him, knowing him all too well.
He squeezes his arm tighter. “Go up and get changed, quick.” He commands me, pushing me to the front door of my dormitory.
I look back at him before I walk inside, slightly afraid when I come back out he’ll of disappeared into the golden autumn air. It’s where he belongs anyways, my flitting leaf.
He shoos me and I smile at him. “Ok, ok, just a second.” I call to him and rush inside and up to my room. I hurry myself into a t-shirt dress and grab my jacket. I don’t want to miss a moment with him.
We then walk to the school garage. A lot of the students who stay in the dorms have cars they use to go into town. We get into Ty’s car, a 1969 olive-green Mustang, and drive off.
He has the last picture taken of us together taped to the rearview mirror. I’m six, he’s seven. We’re hugging in front of the old cinema.
“I thought I’d take you to the docks.” Ty puts on a pair of sunglasses. “I know how you like the water. Plus, there is something I want to show you.”
“Sounds fun.” I lean back in the leather seat. “Why were afternoon classes canceled?”
He shrugs. “Silly reasons. Works in our favor though.” He says with a grin. It’s the kind of grin that makes me think he had something to do with it. But I know that’s just Ty. Everything he says sounds mischievous. He used to get in so much trouble back when he lived with father and me. I think that was one of the reasons Mrs. Jerrick and my father decided he’d be best with her.
Ty parked his car on the street and we got out to walk. He put his arm around my shoulders again. He probably thought I was cold in the wind.
We stopped at a sweet shop and got hot coco. I got marshmallows and cinnamon. Ty got whip cream and sprinkles, and another with marshmallows and caramel.
I crook my brow at him. “Why’d you get two?”
He mimics my eyebrow, then flips it to the other brow and back. “Too keep me sweet.”
I couldn’t wait to get to the dock. I loved the smell of the wind off the ocean. Even now I dream of the summer house in France, an old chateau overlooking the ocean. I’d fall asleep in the box window, just watching the sunset melt into the waves.
The dock is made of old but hard and sturdy wood. I love it instantly. The sun reflects in glittering cascades off the water. As I race Ty towards the end of the dock a small girl comes into view. The sun glows off her golden hair like she has a halo. I think of the extra coco Ty bought, marshmallows and caramel. I feel like such an idiot for not realizing it sooner. She turns, her pale face flushed from the breeze. I raise my hands to my face and race to her.
“Nissa!” I cry as I scoop her up in my arms. “How on earth?”
She clings to me, gripping on as tight as she can. “Heloise,” she whimpers into my chest.
I cupped her face in my hands, beaming into those blue-gray eyes. “I thought you were in America!”
She was almost crying. Then again she always had tears in her eyes when she was happy. “Grandmother convinced Mama to send me back here.”
I pinched her cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She bit her lip. “Grandmother doesn’t like you.”
I laugh and pull her into another tight hug, cupping the back of her head. “I’m so happy to see you. I don’t care what that old bird thinks.”
Behind us, Ty laughs. “I told you you’d like the docks.”
“Are you attending Cleatom then?” I ask, reluctantly pulling back.
She nods. “Yes.” She pulls out her Diamond pin. “Isn’t it pretty?”
I feel upset she is only a Diamond. Her miserly old grandmother is a modern day Ebenezer Scrooge. Plus you add in both her mother’s celebrity and her own, she should be an Emerald. I cup Nissa’s hands in mine, ignoring it.
“I saw your last movie. You were so wonderful.”
Nissa beamed and asked about our father. I told her he was the same as always. I obligatory asked about her mother. Nissa answers that she’s been so busy, with movies, TV, and even a book in the works. I have no idea what that woman would write about but I nod and smile. I’m just happy to have Nissa back in my arms again.
“How long have you been in Cleatom?” I asked.
“A year,” Nissa admits guiltily, biting her bottom lip. “But I’m moving into the dorms soon. Grandmother’s health is failing and she said it would be best for me to stay away from it.” Poor sweet, darling, Nissa. She’s covering for the world’s oldest hypochondriac. I bet the bat sent Nissa away, complaining that she was the cause of her warts or something idiotic like that.
“I have us reservations set up.” Ty says, tapping the face of his watch. “I figured we Boniface children should have our long, over-do family dinner.”
Nissa squeezed onto my hand as we walked, she caught Ty’s and we walked in a row down the street. One thing I am grateful to my father about is this, my siblings.
Once we sit down at the restaurant Nissa and I begin peppering each other with questions. She asks me about home. Ty asks her about what celebrities she’s met. I ask her about her travels.
“Oh!” Nissa suddenly exclaims. “I haven’t told you the best thing!” She giggles excitedly. “I’m Ty’s assistant!” She says, touching his hand. “I’m part of the Student Government.”
“Really?” I gasp.
She nods. “Yes! I never thought Ty would hire me.” She blushes some. “I thought for sure he’d pick some pretty girl.”
Ty scoffs. “I did pick a pretty girl.”
Nissa rolls her eyes, same as me. “You know what I mean, Ty.” She looks at me and we both crack up.
“I see what you think of me.” He scoffs, slapping his palm against his chest and turning his head over-dramatically away. “I am saving myself for marriage.”
Nissa and I laugh harder. I’m squeezing Nissa’s hand, not realizing how hard, but she offers no complaint because she squeezes right back.
We leave just as the restaurant closes. Ty drives us back dropping me off at my dormitory. I kiss Nissa goodbye, almost wanting to cry as I watch them drive off.
I suddenly feel exhausted as I get to my room. I strip as I walk to the bathroom where I shower. As I dry my hair with a towel I pick up my dirty laundry and toss it in the allotted bin. One of the staff would collect it in the morning. I picked up my uniform and the key fell out of the pocket.
I had almost completely forgotten about it. I roll it through my hands then set it in my bedside table. I get into my sleep shirt then return to the key. I look up at it as I lay on my bed. I drift off to sleep soon with the key clutched in my hand.
I’m standing on a boat, my body badly injured and bleeding. I’m screaming. Fighting against arms holding me back. I know I have won against these arms many times in the past, but my body is so badly beaten they are winning.
I’m screaming someone’s name. Someone I don’t want to leave. Someone I love.
I finally collapse to the floor of the boat, sobbing their name over and over. I’ll never see them again will I? I look up at the one who was holding me back and he shakes his head sadly. He gently wipes away my tears and leads me into the boat. He sets me down gently on a comfortable chair and he extends my legs, removing the heavy metal boots from my feet.
I’m still whispering the name, over and over.
Two soft hands gently cress my cheeks and pull back my hair, tying it up and away from my face like I like. I look up into her warm, familiar eyes. She is crying too and I am comforted there. I lean my head into her arm as she removed the metal gauntlets from my arms. She’s singing a song to me.
I look down at the man tending to the wound in my belly and I ask him something. He looks at me and answers, “Your loved ones cannot follow you here, my lord.”
I’m baffled.
He doesn’t allow me to argue. I whisper the name again and he shakes his head.
The woman pulls a locket out from around my neck and opens it before me. I preciously cradle it in my hands. Inside is a lock of raven black hair. It sends me into shuddering tears.
I awake from the dream, still whispering the name, still crying. I sit upright and rub hard at my eyes. The name has already been forgotten, but the heart break I felt in longing for it still haunts me.
I realize I’m still holding the key. In the darkness I think for a moment it is glowing, but I decide it is merely the full moon reflecting off it. It is half past midnight and despite that I decide I must act crazy and go for a walk. Anything to subside the pain of my heart breaking.
I put on some jeans and a plain shirt. I stuff the key in my pocket and walk out of the dorm. I walk up the cobblestones of the dorm village. I walk past the boy’s junior dorm. The female senior dorm, and I walk further. I walk past the student garage and into the forest.
I think, perhaps if I keep walking I’ll reach the cliffs over looking the ocean. Instead, I come across a massive cast wrought iron gate. It looked like a palace itself with all the intricate works and towers to it. In the very center, where the gates open up, was a lion’s head. It’s mouth gaping open and it’s tongue serving as the latches.
I touch the key in my pocket. It is iron too. I take it out and compare the lions’ heads. They look like they match but in the moonlight it is so hard to tell. I stand closer to the gate, looking for the keyhole. I suddenly have an idea and hold the key in my hand and insert my hand into the large lion’s mouth. Sure enough, the key slides right in and I turn to unlock it.
The gate creaks open by itself, first slow then it suddenly blows open, sending me back a few paces in fright. I hold my arms before me as I am greeted by a cold burst of air, strong enough to almost knock me over, but I manage to hold my ground.
As I peel my arms away I see a thick, heavy mist pouring out from the open gate. I hold my breath and look all around me. I decide maybe I should head back. Then I think that the key had my name on it, perhaps Professor Lourdes meant to tell me about it and forgot. Perhaps, since I was Emerald, I had special privileges to certain areas on the campus. The campus was massive enough to allow such a thing. So I stride into the mist. I hear the gates close behind me and I am suddenly tight inside with dread.
I take a few steps, barely able to see anything around except for the cold, white mist. My toe hits something and I fall. Breaking through the mist I fall and hit on a set of stairs.
Stairs?
The mist is so thick around me I can barely make them out, rising through and going up in a gentle slope. So I begin climbing the stairs, I remember there being mist in my dream, it completely engulfed the boat I was on. Who else was there with me? A man and a woman of unearthly beauty. It is so funny how you can forget a dream so powerful so fast.
Above me I see the beginnings of a building rising above the trees, but the deep fog is swallowing me up.
Am I in another plain of existence?
At the top of the stairs I see not a building but a huge marble platform surrounded by tall statues of women bearing shells and children, massive lions with their mouths wide open, men wielding swords or embracing a woman. All of them an Atlas, holding up the a massive dome covered in tiny fragments of glass that glittered and glowed in the moon’s radiance.
“Oh wow…” I whispered. I am aware my toes are freezing, and the cold begins climbing its way up my body. Tiny frozen fingers ripping through my clothes and sending my skin into gooseflesh. I shuddered and hold my arms across me.
“Are you cold?” I look up in response to the voice. Before me, coming down from a platform at the far end is a man. “I see you didn’t need my help finding this place.”
I’m confused. The cold seems to be stabbing at my brain now. “John?”
I then see two more appear behind him, a tall figure that remains in the shadows and the second comes out farther than John. She smiles shyly at me.
“Den…” I shake my head. “What is this?” I ask, taking a step forward.
John raises his hand out of the fog and I was stunned to see him holding a sword.
“John!” I exclaim, jumping back.
My back hits a wall, cold as ice. I whip around, there were stairs here just a moment ago. Instead there is this cold wall. A wall of solid ice. My breath comes out in thick white puffs now, fast little ghosts leaving me. A warm hand touches my shoulder and I spin around to face Den.
“Hold still.” Den commands and I stand rigid, her hands touch my chest and I fell a small weight against the collar of my shirt. It is an Emerald pin. Den then puts her cheek to mine.
“Never let go of your key.” She whispers into my ear and then she steps behind me, her warm hand lingering on mine.
I look back up at John, squeezing the key tighter in my hand. “John, what’s going on?” I try to stay calm, but my voice is noticeably shaky.
“What is going on is a rite of passage.” The man behind John responds. His voice is deep and I don’t recognize it.
“For what?” I snap.
“If you have a name on the key.” The voice tells me. “John,” he says in a commanding voice.
John was suddenly charging at me. I hold up my arms, bracing myself. He knocks me upside my head with the blunt end of his sword, and I fall, hitting the frozen ground.
“Get up!” John yells.
My head in throbbing and words and pictures are mixed up in my head. My vision is whirling and spinning.
“Get up!” John barks again. Using his foot he flips me over onto my back. He then takes his sword and touches the tip to my pin. “I’ll break it if you don’t get up.”
“Heloise!” Den whispers demandingly.
I whimper a loud, choking sob. “For the love of God! What?”
John circles me, the tip of his sword pointed at me. “Draw your weapon.”
I swallow and roll to my side, wobbly standing to my feet. I still have my key clutched in my hand. “Tell me what’s happening.” My speech is slow.
John holds his sword up. “Draw your weapon.”
I grip onto the side of my head. “Weapon?”
John sneers. “Draw it, now!”
Confused, hurt, and angry I scream out. “I don’t have a weapon!”
I raise my hand, attempting to throw that damn key and then the sound of steel hitting steel resonates like a gunshot, and a bright flash of light that blinds me.
The mist clears. The light dims. Looking up I see a sword in my hand where the key was.
In my stupor John easily forces my sword down and he raises his against me again, bringing it down towards my neck. I swing upwards, hitting John’s wrist, ripping away at his starched sleeve. He jumps back and I run away, a stupid move because his sword is slicing by my leg, cutting into my thigh. I cry out and fall to my knees.
Den cries out. “Get up!”
I shakily move to stand and I hear John charging towards me. The fog is closing in, engulfing me, swallowing me whole.
I drop back to my knees and suddenly I am gone.
John’s sword hit’s the floor before me and I jump away, still low and in the fog. If I remain hidden in the fog, I think, perhaps I can regain my footing, regain some of the sense John knocked out of me. My ears are ringing, blood rushing to them and to the throbbing lump near the back of my left ear where John had hit me.
What was happening to me?
What the hell was wrong with the people at this school?
I then hear a scream. It’s Den. I jump out of the fog instantly, seeing John approaching Den with his sword ready.
Without a second thought I lunging through the fog and the air. I am flying. I am swinging my sword. As I swing at John, for the briefest flash, I see someone else. I see a man with long golden curls, and a strong yet angelic face. He is wearing shimmering armor almost pearl in color.
I strike him.
John’s arm is braced against mine, his hand pressing hard against my shoulder. I’m staring at him, wide eyed and frightened. I hadn’t been in control of myself.
Someone else had.
“Heloise-” Den gasps.
I hear the slight tink of something hitting the marble, echoed by tiny droplet-like sounds raining on the floor. Looking down I see I only have the key in my hand, the sword has gone away in John’s hand as well. He pulls away from me and the mist begins to recede. Looking down I see John’s diamond pin on the marble, all the individual tiny diamonds scattered like so many drops of rain.
John is looking at me, hard and long. I look back at him, confused and afraid. Was he going to hit me now?
John lifts his head, looking away from me and towards the back. “You were right.” John says to the man at the back.
“I don’t…” I murmur, slowly shaking my throbbing and confused head. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve been waiting a long time for you to come back.” The man in the back replies.
John is then bowing before me. “The one true king.”
I’m confused beyond reasoning. I clutch my head in my hand. “John stop. What are you doing?”
“Look at your key.” Den is behind me, putting one hand on my shoulder and the other on my waist. “You’ll see your true name written upon it now.”
I lay the heavy key flat in my palm. Engraved where my name used to be read the name: Arthur.
#creative writing#old writing#fantasy writing#fantasy writer#story writing#arthurian legend retelling#fairy tale#momo monsters#my writing
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The Sensation of Your Hands on Me
A Belly Kink fic by Kerwynlar
When the prince consort finds out that the king, his arranged marriage husband, is suffering from indigestion, he just wants to help him feel better.
Modern royalty arranged marriage romance with belly kink/sick kink.
Tags: Original male character/Original male character, Sickfic, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Indigestion, Burping, Embarrassment About Burping and Getting Over That, Fluff, Romance
2,550 words
Read it below or on AO3.
~*~
Prince Consort Nathaniel stayed by his husband’s side as King Lawrence worked the room following the banquet. Mostly this involved a steady stream of people approaching where Nate and Lawrence were standing next to a high top table, bowing to the king, and attempting to make conversation that they imagined would curry favor with him. Lawrence was pleasant and gracious to everyone, but as the evening wore on, Nate thought his expression seemed more and more pinched, and Nate watched him press his hand to his belly a few times. Lawrence’s three-piece suit was immaculately tailored but it seemed to Nate that it was fitting a little tightly across his middle.
They had been married for four months, but had known each other for years. As the second son of the royal family of a neighboring kingdom, Nate had been dispatched by his sister on diplomatic missions to Lawrence’s court many times. The two got along well and Nate had been hesitantly considering Lawrence a friend for a while. When his sister told him that she and King Lawrence were negotiating a new treaty and part of it would entail Nate’s marriage to Lawrence, Nate had been thrilled. Because aside from Lawrence’s position, Nate had always found him very attractive, and a true pleasure to talk to. Their wedding night had been wonderful, and within a month Nate had admitted to himself that he had a massive crush on his husband. It wasn’t clear if Lawrence felt the same way, but they continued being friendly, bordering on affectionate with each other, and very happily “doing their marital duty.”
Four months of accompanying Lawrence to this kind of formal event had given Nate a pretty good idea of what was normal for the king and what was not. Nate was certain something was wrong but there was no opportunity to ask.
Finally, Lawrence signaled to his security chief that he was ready to go, and caught the attention of their host to say his goodbyes. The armored limousine was waiting at the front door when they walked out, and Nate kept his hand on Lawrence’s back as the king got in, then went around the other side and got in himself.
The privacy screen that separated them from the chauffeur and bodyguard in the front seat was raised. Nate loosened his tie and looked over at Lawrence, whose head was resting back against the seat with his eyes closed. In the light coming in the car window, he looked very pale.
“Lawrence? Are you alright?” Nate asked gently.
“Yes, of course,” the king replied suspiciously quickly.
“It’s just… you’ve seemed uncomfortable since the dinner ended and you look a little bloated.” Nate nodded at the buttons of Lawrence’s waistcoat, which, now that his jacket was unbuttoned, were clearly straining against his belly.
Lawrence opened his eyes, looking horrified. He sat up quickly and covered his belly with his hand.
“I don’t think anyone else would have noticed!” Nate said quickly, raising his hands. “I only saw the bloating once we were in the car and I was the only one who saw you in between talking to people at the event. I’m sure nothing seemed off to anyone else.”
Lawrence sighed and relaxed a little. “You really don’t think anyone else noticed?”
“Yeah, you were holding it together really well. But you don’t have to do that with me. We’re married now, remember? I’m on your side no matter what and I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”
Lawrence gave him a wan smile. “I appreciate that, Nathaniel.”
“So, are you feeling sick?”
Lawrence grimaced. “It’s just indigestion. It… is not an infrequent occurrence.”
“What do you do when it happens? I think we have about a two hour drive back to the palace. There’s not much around but I’m sure Security can figure something out if you need to stop.”
Lawrence sighed. “I just want to get home and go to bed.”
Nate nodded. “Anything we can do to make the drive more comfortable? I’m happy to have you put your head in my lap if you want to lay down.”
Lawrence shook his head and opened his mouth to respond, then quickly closed it again and swallowed thickly.
Nate reached out to touch his arm. “Nausea?” he guessed.
Lawrence shook his head again as he breathed out slowly. “I - my stomach just… hurts. I’m not nauseated.”
Nate grimaced sympathetically. “How about unbuttoning your waistcoat? It looks uncomfortable.”
Lawrence looked a little scandalized.
“You do know I see you naked?” Nate chuckled. “And maybe by the time we get home you’ll be less bloated and can do it back up before you get out of the car.”
Lawrence looked away from him. “Nathaniel, you - you have a very positive view of me… and I am reluctant to damage that view.”
Nate reached over and took Lawrence’s hand, then brought it to his lips to kiss. “I promise you that I don’t think less of you because you have indigestion, Lawrence.”
Lawrence sighed and resignedly loosed the buttons of the waistcoat. The sides of the garment parted and he gave a little “mmf” that sounded relieved, before making the odd swallowing motion again.
Lawrence ran his hand over his exposed shirt front, which was also tighter than it should have been, but not straining the way the waistcoat had been. But with the waistcoat out of the way it quickly became apparent that the trousers were the real culprit: the waistband cutting a harsh line through his bloated middle. Lawrence’s hand strayed to the button of his trousers but took no further action, though he did swallow again.
“Go on,” Nate encouraged him. “There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about, love. Might as well be comfortable. It’s just me.” He hadn’t really noticed the endearment until Lawrence gave him a sideways glance, but neither of them commented and Lawrence undid his trousers. His belly pushed forward, forcing the zipper down a little, and Lawrence groaned.
Nate grimaced. “Your poor belly. You must be feeling awful.”
“I’m… somewhat used to it,” Lawrence said quietly. “But it’s not pleasant. I’m sorry to have made such a spectacle of myself. Thank you for being so kind about it.”
“Lawrence. I’m your husband and we’re alone. I can’t think of anything that is less accurately described as a spectacle. Now how else can we make you more comfortable? I could rub your belly for you? Might feel nice.”
Lawrence shook his head quickly. “Baring myself is one thing, but I don’t want to disgust you.”
Nate frowned. “Because you’re bloated? Nothing disgusting about that. I’d like to help you feel better if I can.”
“No, because I might…” Lawrence gestured vaguely. “Not be able to… hold it in.”
Nate was confused for a moment before the swallowing made sense and realization dawned. “Are you keeping yourself from burping?!”
Lawrence looked away from him.
“Lawrence! No wonder you’re so bloated! Let that out!”
“It’s unseemly and unpleasant,” came the muttered reply.
Nate sighed and reached over to touch Lawrence’s cheek, then applied a gentle pressure to get him to turn to face Nate.
“Forget ‘unseemly’, I’m begging you. Our marriage may have been arranged, but I really care about you, Lawrence. I have the utmost respect for you and that’s not going to change one iota because you get indigestion and you burp when you do! I mean, I know you’re the king, but you’ve got a human body and human bodies burp sometimes.”
Lawrence sighed, looking down again. “You’re very kind, Nathaniel.”
Nate moved one of his hands to Lawrence’s swollen belly. It felt firm and hot even through the shirt. “Please, let me try to help you feel better.”
Lawrence hesitated, then nodded.
Nate slid closer on the limousine seat and spread his palm over Lawrence’s belly, clearly feeling the unhappy grumbling within. “Let me know if anything I’m doing doesn’t feel good, okay? And no more holding back if you need to burp.”
Lawrence nodded again and Nate moved his hand to the top of the swell, just below Lawrence’s ribs, where the gurgling was strongest. He started moving his hand in slow circles, pressing gently. After only a minute, Nate felt the gurgling intensify. Lawrence gave him a miserable glance, then turned his face away and covered his mouth, letting out a quiet burp and muttering “excuse me”.
“That’s a good start,” Nate said, “but I know you can do better.”
Lawrence rolled his eyes but a minute later he turned away again and gave a much deeper and louder belch. “Excuse me.”
“There you go.” Nate smiled. “How did that feel?”
“Embarrassing and unpleasant.” Lawrence frowned, then relented. “But necessary. I suspect it helped a bit.”
“Good,” Nate said firmly. “Could I unbutton your shirt so I stop getting hung up on the buttons?”
“Certainly not my favorite context for you to undress me,” Lawrence said, “but yes.”
Nate quickly undid the buttons of Lawrence’s shirt and spread it open, revealing the soft white undershirt beneath. He began rubbing circles over Lawrence’s stomach again, this time with both hands.
Lawrence gave a soft groan and relaxed back into his seat. “Oh, that feels very nice, Nathaniel.”
“I’m glad.” Nate smiled.
“Would you rub a little lower as well, please?” Lawrence asked quietly. “Maybe my sides.”
“Of course, love.” Nate started moving his hands in sweeping arcs down the sides of Lawrence’s belly and back up the middle.
Lawrence closed his eyes with a satisfied sigh. “Wonderful. Thank you so much.”
Nate didn’t bother to prevent his pleased grin. “You’re welcome, I’m glad it feels good.”
Though Lawrence covered his mouth when he belched again a minute later, he barely turned his head.
“You said this happens a lot?” Nate asked. He was certain Lawrence wasn’t asleep, but thought he might be relaxed enough to share a little.
“I’ve always had a sensitive stomach,” came the murmured reply. “There are some things I simply can’t eat and my staff provides that list to anyone serving me food outside the palace, but frequently some ingredient is overlooked, or something that I wasn’t previously aware of as a problem will set me off.”
Nate couldn’t help it: he leaned forward to place a kiss on Lawrence’s belly. It was still bloated but seemed a little less tight and gurgly than it had been. When he sat up, Lawrence was watching him.
“Kiss it better?” Nate offered with a lopsided grin.
Lawrence gave a soft chuckle. “You’re wonderful.”
Smiling ear to ear, Nate went back to rubbing his belly.
Nate roused Lawrence out of his doze as they neared the palace.
“You are the king,” Nate said as he watched Lawrence re-button his shirt. “If you didn’t want to do up your trousers no one would say a word.”
Lawrence sighed. “Just because no one can speak against me does not mean I should give them something to resist speaking about.”
Nate smiled and gave his arm a squeeze. It was a classic Lawrence thing to say.
“Anyway,” Lawrence said as he started pulling the sides of his trousers together, “you’ve really helped immensely.” He got them buttoned with a grunt of effort, and while they were clearly too tight, it did appear to be better than before.
When the car stopped, Nate leapt out and hurried around so that he could offer Lawrence his hand. The king accepted the assistance with a warm smile, and threaded his arm through Nate’s as they walked into the palace. Lawrence held onto Nate firmly and leaned against him in a way that made Nate’s own stomach flutter.
Nate cleared his throat when they turned into the corridor that led to their rooms. “Shall I - ah - come with you? Help you get settled?”
They had adjoining bedrooms. Usually Nate slept in his own room and Lawrence slept in his, except when they had had sex late at night in Lawrence’s room and neither of them was awake enough after for Nate to leave.
“I’d like that very much if you don’t mind,” Lawrence said.
“Not at all,” Nate said with a smile, steering them to Lawrence’s door.
Inside, Nate helped Lawrence out of his suit and into soft silk pajamas. The king tied the drawstring of the bottoms under his still-bloated belly, and smoothed the shirt over the curve. He looked up at Nate. “Nathaniel…” Lawrence looked away quickly. “Would you… would you consider staying with me tonight?”
Nate’s eyebrows shot up, but Lawrence continued.
“Just - um - just to sleep. I… I find I’m reluctant to part with the sensation of your hands on me.”
Smiling, Nate leaned in to kiss Lawrence’s forehead. “Good, because I’m reluctant to stop touching you. Let me just change. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Eight and a half minutes later, Nate re-entered Lawrence’s room just as the king was emerging from the en suite, one hand pressed to his belly.
Nate’s happiness was immediately tinged with concern. “How are you feeling?”
Lawrence shrugged. “Better than I was, but still a bit sore and bloated.”
Nate nodded and pulled back the covers on the bed for Lawrence to get in. After some maneuvering, they settled on their sides, Nate’s front pressed to Lawrence’s back. Nate slipped his hand under Lawrence’s shirt to rest on his belly. He spread his fingers wide, trying to cover as much area as possible in hopes that the warmth and pressure of his hand would continue to help.
Lawrence gave a relaxed sigh, and Nate kissed his shoulder blade. The room was perfectly quiet until Lawrence spoke again.
“The treaty is a ruse, you know,” he said.
Nate frowned, not following at all. “What?”
“I initiated negotiations with your sister because I wanted to marry you.”
Nate’s frown deepened. “That’s not right,” he said. “Amelia sent you the first letter asking if you would be open to a new treaty.”
Lawrence nodded. “Prior to that letter, two diplomats mentioned to Queen Amelia that I seemed open to discussions on tariffs. They did so at my request. I wanted to encourage her, but make it seem like it was her idea.”
“But… you did lower tariffs. And you gave her some airplanes.” Nate tried to process his husband’s words.
“Yes, and I got lower - urrf, excuse me - lower grain prices and a number of other benefits for my kingdom. But the outcome that I, personally, wanted, above everything else, was your hand in marriage.”
“I… but why?”
“You are a very smart man, Nathaniel,” Lawrence said quietly. “You don’t need me to answer that.”
Nate felt a shudder run through his body. “Why are you telling me now?” he heard himself ask.
Lawrence rolled over, bringing their faces inches apart. “Because in all my thinking about marrying you, I never expected… this. I never expected that you would be this kind, and this caring, and this insistent on helping me.”
Warmth had been building in Nate’s chest and now it burst forth. He closed the inches to kiss Lawrence’s lips and they melted together.
“Well, your majesty,” Nate said, when they finally broke apart to breathe, “I can confidently promise you a lifetime more of this.”
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Awesome! Okay
May I suggest raiden X reader lovebites/marking? (Him being the one to do it?)
If thats inspires you, of course. thanks your giving me the chance!
Of course friend! Sorry for the long wait, I had this mostly written before I went on break so I finished it as soon as I could come back. I wrote this with mgr Raiden in mind but I only played that game once, also I was really goofing off while writing this so If he's OOC please forgive me Raiden simps. Other than that I hope you enjoy!
CW: SMUT, slight blood, scratching, biting, fingering, cyberphillia (fancy word for robot fucking), unprotected sex, begging, minor exhibitionism, Raiden being a switch
"Is it standard procedure for bodyguards to be this thorough?" You teased at the gloved hand sliding around your waist in a failed attempt to be discreet.
The limousine seat was wide, yet you were sitting so close that you were practically in Raiden's lap. Every tiny bump in the road seemed to scoot you even closer, not to mention the arm around you that kept your body secure against his.
"Consider it part of the premium security package." He explained, the mischief more than evident in his voice. "Only for our most important clients."
"I don't think the president gets the same treatment." You bantered.
"Just taking every precaution to make sure you're safe. Is it too close for you?" He asked.
"No, no, get as close as you want." You answered, adjusting your body to fit more comfortably against his.
You were thankful, or at the very least hopeful that the luxurious limousine was soundproof and the driver couldn't hear or see a thing. Not that it would matter much in the long run but it would save you a dirty look when you reached your destination.
Raiden's body was cold to the touch, the rigid metal underneath the disguise of his suit chilled your skin. Your body however was getting increasingly warm, perhaps one of but not the only reason he was so keen to get close to you. Putting your arms around him and feeling under the fabric you brushed your hands on the more exposed wires between his armor plating you felt his grip on your hip grow tighter, any tighter now and your skin would bruise but that didn't sound so bad.
As much as you loved the intimidating style of his usual cyborg design you were glad he swapped out for a more casual look this time, though you longed to feel the titanium claws under those gloves gently sliding up your thigh and lifting your skirt along with it. You draped your leg over his and lifted out of your seat to straddle his lap, in a crunch for time because you weren't sure how long the drive would be you skipped over the playful teasing touches that would eventually lead to this point. Raiden wasn't complaining, at least he couldn't with your mouth covering his.
The taste of him was different now, hot and metalic and nothing how a regular humans kiss would be, another thing you loved about him. You felt around his chest, looking for another gap in the armor you could dig your fingers into and make him twitch. His lips curled into an amused smile against yours as he chuckled lightly, almost as if your touch tickled.
Raiden took the opportunity to do some exploring of his own, as his hands ran over the well hidden marks on your thighs he had left on your last car ride that familiar itch for those claws settled deep inside you. Taking your hands away and grabbing his to tug one of the gloves off, your mouths seprated just enough so he could speak.
"You're gonna get scratched up." He warned.
"I know." You challenged with a devious smile.
Slowly he began grazing his fingertips down your thigh, not hard enough to break the skin but just enough to leave a light pink mark in their wake. Your heart raced as they traveled, the lower they went the more difficult it would be to hide the marks under your skirt, and the look in his cold grey eyes told you Raiden shared the same thoughts.
Searching for something to do with your hands you wrapped your arms around his back, feeling for more wires while ultimately trying to pull yourself closer. Something however made him gasp and dig his nails into your thigh deep enough to draw a small amount of blood, you ran your finger over the same wire a little more carefully causing him to twitch and pant beneath you.
You were thankful that you could see more of his face without the armor, the twisting expressions as he reacted to the sensation weren't hidden by anything except the odd strand of silver hair falling out of place.
"Keep... keep doing that. Oh fuck..." He breathed out, before putting his lips to your neck.
Steam from his breath warmed the sensitive skin, you shuddered at the feeling of his teeth gently sinking in and leaving notable impressions behind. With one hand you kept rubbing the wire and with the other you unbuttoned your blouse to give him more access to your body, threading your fingers in his hair to guide his ravenous kisses lower.
"Pretty sure a wire like this shouldn't be out where someone can just grab it." You commented while pulling your bra down just enough to expose yourself.
"No one's gonna grab me like this in a fight." He added in the brief amount of time that his mouth was free.
"Well, I guess robotics aren't my area of expertise." You admitted.
"You seem to know what you're doing." He replied, before suddenly nipping at your breasts and making you gasp.
He was rutting against you like more of a dog than a man, or cyborg for that matter. You had to move both your hands to his shoulders for fear you would fall off, even when you let go of the wire he was still leaving bites wherever he pleased and panting like an absolute madman. Eventually his gloved hand found it's way under your skirt, pawing at the damp fabric of your panties for a while before finally pulling the to the side.
The contact of leather against your most sensitive parts forced a whine out of your mouth, Raiden wasn't the only one on the verge of going completely feral. Every stroke from his fingers both statisfied a need and created another, it wasn’t enough but without the clarity to express that you simply tugged at the waistband of his pants until he got the message.
A quick realization invaded your mind as he pulled his cock out, you weren't really sure how that piece was attached to his cybernetics, or where it went when he was in battle mode, but now wasn't the time to ask or even think about that.
Like you couldn't start riding him quick enough you sank down on him as soon as you felt the tip touch your entrance. Your hips were practically lifting themselves and slamming back down into his lap, earning a whine from Raiden with every move while the whirring in his mechanical parts grew louder. His claws fisted your skirt, tearing holes in the fabric as they twisted it tighter. The other hand pulled you down with greater force every time you dropped onto him.
When he turned you over onto the seat you wrapped your legs around him, the metal under his suit digging into your soft thighs and leaving impressions. With your hands free you desperately searched for that wire again, practically hearing the sparks go off in his head when you pinched it again as he roared over you.
You didn't stay on your back for long, letting Raiden turn you over again with astounding strength and speed onto your knees and propping you up against the window. Ramming into you from behind pressing you firmly against it, the cool glass in front paired with the cool metal behind made your body feel enev more hot as your climax built up. Through a clouded haze you could see the people on the street outside completely oblivious to what was going on in this limousine, for a moment you imangined they could see you as your mind swirled with the reality of the filthy filthy situation until it all boiled over and you cried out.
"Raiden...Raiden! Raidennnn."
Where a comforting warmth would usually be you felt a chill spilling into your core, a coolant perhaps or some other kind of liquid substitute for the real thing. It seemed almost rude to ask at this point, whatever it was made for an entirely new and exhilarating sensation as your insides reacted to the cold liquid filling you up.
It wasn't like Raiden to get tired, but there he was draped over your back and panting like a dog while you did the same. Your mind was still spinning and you would dread stepping out of the limo if you mind could have even thought that far ahead, you didn't even want to fix your clothes feeling like you were perfectly fine like this. Drunk off the feeling of eachother you stayed where you were, giggling at the afterglow feeling and wrapping tighter around eachother like you wouldn't have to part in a few short minutes.
Soon enough you did have to pull yourselves apart, when the car started to slow down the panic settled in as you rushed to get your appearance in order. Flashing lights from cameras bombarded the outside of the car while you were still trying to figure out if your skirt was the right way around.
"How's my hair?" You asked in a panic.
"Hold still." Raiden told you, before putting your stray cowlicks back in place.
While he was fixing your hair you straightened his tie and smoothed out the wrinkles on his suit. There was still the issue of the fluids, though most of it had dripped onto the seat a good amount was sticking to your scratched up legs all you could do was hope the cameras would focus on your face.
Looking out the window you sighed. "We got lucky with the paparazzi the last several times but we're really pushing it."
"Maybe we should find a better time to do this." Raiden replied.
"Is that an invitation?" You teased.
"I don't know. Is that a yes?" He quiped back.
"Let's see how many rumors there are about us before we make any plans." You answered.
"Fine by me." He accepted with a smirk.
Raiden stepped out first on the opposite side, going around to open the door for you. As the blinding lights and roaring crowd greeted your arrival you acted completely unfazed, wearing the wrinkles in your clothes and the scratches on your legs like they were meant to be there. People rushed to you with questions and microphones, all of them stepping back once your bodyguard came to your side.
He put his arm around you in a way that could be brushed off a only protective measure but that rebellious look under the sunglasses that only you could see told a different story. The whole night he was never more than a few feet away from you, you hoped at first that the cameras wouldn't catch the secret smirks and lingering glances but after a while you didn't care. Those rumors about you could just keep spreading, while you had your fun under the publics nose, over and over again.
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Is it Friday? Then it's Posting Day!
Pamela Cook looked up from her desk, and waved towards the inner door. ‘He’s expecting you, Special Agent Gibbs.’
Gibbs nodded a greeting, then entered Vance’s office followed by the rest of them. Bishop closed the door behind her, feeling the solid thunk as the soundproofed barrier latched. Vance stood from his desk, walking around to join the group. ‘I need an update. Let me tell you, SecNav is not happy about a significantly damaged armored limousine.’
Gibbs nodded Bishop towards the meeting workstation. She quickly brought up the map of the Tidal Pool on one of the big monitors on the wall. Gibbs turned to Vance. ‘Kasie gave us a physical profile, the suspect is short, and particular about their clothing. She’s working on the damaged limo today.’
#harry potter#ginny weasley#hinny#hp fanfic#leroy jethro gibbs#ellie bishop#ncis fanfiction#crossover
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Date, in the days after the HB case.
Word count: 4441
The first thing Date does—the first thing any of them do—after the stadium is drive to the hospital.
He’s aware that they’ve won. He had heard the scooters speeding up in the air, seen the explosion in his peripheral vision, and registered the cheering coming from the voices around him.
Tearer is dead, and the Initiative was too.
Date doesn’t care.
All he can think about is the boy in his arms. He’s not a boy anymore, really—he’s 29 and experienced and bleeding out in front of him.
Ryuki had taken a bullet for him.
Six years ago, Date remembers the boy who couldn’t shoot—couldn’t take Date’s life to save himself or the others. And here he was, again sacrificing himself for Date’s own life.
A voice interrupts his thoughts.
Hey, asshole! Don’t just sit there, he needs medical attention!
He recognizes the voice as Tama. Right, he thinks back at her, I’ll take him to the hospital. Ryuki needed it. His heart beats, slow and softly, and his eyelids fluttered.
Riot police aren’t letting anyone past them. Ambulance can’t get through. It’ll be faster to just drive.
Date stands, carefully cradling Ryuki and lifting him bridal style. It’s quieter now. The others seem to have noticed him. Mizuki—his daughter, his little girl, not so little anymore—locks eyes with him. There is a silent communication, even without the use of Aiba or his eye socket or any other technology. It’s good to know they can still understand each other, even after all this time.
⸺
Ota, Iris, Moma, Shoma, Gen, Kizuna, and Lien pile into that ridiculous armored vehicle they’ve got. Without a word, Kuranushi—Mizuki’s sister, her Bibi—takes Date’s car keys. She gets into his car and for once he finds himself uncaring of the condition he gets it back in.
He carries Ryuki into the back of his limousine. Mizuki—his Mizuki—clambers in after. Tama drives. They’re silent on the drive to the hospital.
The limo gets to the hospital first. They stop in front of the emergency room, and Date rattles off information to the paramedics as they lift him gently onto a stretcher. His blood type, the status of the wound, anything he thought might be helpful. He does his best to keep his cool as they take him into surgery. As soon as Ryuki was out of sight, Date turns to Mizuki. She’s bruised and dirty, and he’s pretty sure she’s taken a bullet or two.
“You should get seen, too, Mizuki.”
Her eyes are fixed on the door that they had taken Ryuki through. She responds to him, with that sass he hadn’t known to miss, “I’ll be fine, old man. It’s not enough to kill me.”
“Still,” Date says, “you’re not immortal. Please, Mizuki. I—I couldn’t—”
She understands him then. She looks him in his eye, and Date is struck by Aiba’s presence in Mizuki’s left eye socket. He hadn’t been there, when she lost her eye. He hadn’t seen her after the explosion in the cathedral. Had it been then, that she had been injured? Or did she have it extracted when she joined ABIS? Either way, he felt the guilt rise in him. He hadn’t been there to help her, with the recovery or the adjustment or the grief—he didn’t think he could stand it if she was hurt again.
“Okay.” She turns away from him again, “I’ll talk to a doctor.” She takes his hand, holds him tight, and they walk up to another employee. She describes her injuries, and the doctor says she’ll probably need surgery, because there’s apparently still a bullet in her. She squeezes his hand, and then reaches up to her eye. She hands him Aiba.
“I’ll be right back, old man. Don’t go anywhere.” She gives him that smirk that he knows so well and walks away with the doctor.
As soon as he’s alone with Aiba in the waiting room, he collapses into a chair. He feels numb. He’s cold. There are tears in his eye and he feels six years of built-up grief flooding over him.
Date. Aiba is still in his palm. She opens up her AI sight in his vision. He sees himself, and he’s covered in dirt and soot and Ryuki’s blood. There are no wounds or bruises or blemishes on the false face he wears.
Date, Aiba says again. He looks at her, fully, and he is hit with the weight of his grief again. He had missed her, god above he had missed her, and she was here and he hadn’t said anything to her outside of the adrenaline rush of the case and the battle. He slips off his eyepatch, which was falling apart anyway and would soon be replaced, and lifts Aiba up, closer to his face. He doesn’t place her in his eye socket. They had worked together at the stadium, but he knows. It’s been six years. Had she moved on? He knew that she had worked with the other Mizuki, in those weeks before his disappearance, but they had been united in those final moments in the cathedral. Now, she had spent, presumably, six years working with the new Special Agent Date. He knew that he was sometimes, well, often, difficult to be with. And Mizuki…Mizuki was better than him, in every way, as much as he would never say that to her face. Aiba would almost certainly prefer Mizuki…right?
He hears a little click and a whirr from Aiba, and he recognizes her self-cleaning function. She wriggles into his eye socket and settles there. I’m home, she says, and he wants to cry like he did at the harbor when she appeared before him.
Welcome home, he says, and he settles in his seat, comforted by her presence.
⸺
The other Mizuki arrives a few minutes later. She is accompanied by Boss and Pewter. Date and Aiba relay the information from the doctors about Mizuki and Ryuki. Boss accompanies the older Mizuki to the doctors—apparently she has a heart condition, and while she isn’t injured Boss wants her to do a full check up. Pewter sits next to him in the plastic chairs of the waiting room. He gives Date a brief update on Amame, but doesn’t expect a response and doesn’t say anything else, for which Date is grateful.
The rest of their entourage shows up some time later, though how much later Date isn’t sure. Shoma and Gen have gone home, but they’ve picked up Hitomi on the way. Mizuki is out of surgery, and she is awake in her hospital room, smiling as Iris and her faithful backup dancers—Ota and Moma, who have as much grace as maturity—attempt a dance routine in their limited space. Hitomi holds Date’s hand, and he feels like he did six years ago. That they’ve got a little family, strange as it is. The doctors say Mizuki should be good to go home tonight.
Ryuki, on the other hand, is still in surgery. It’s a complicated one, Boss tells him, between the bullet and the TC-PERGE. He’ll be in the hospital for a while.
Mizuki is discharged just as the sun begins to set. Go home, Boss instructs, I’ll take care of Ryuki. He trusts her.
The group follows Date and Mizuki out. She stops them, as they reach the parking lot. “Actually, guys…I appreciate the support, but I think I’d like a quiet night at home. Is that okay?”
They accept her wishes, bidding a cheerful farewell and promises to visit and drop off food and gifts and the like. They disperse into the setting sun, and Date watches them go until it is only himself, Mizuki, and the other Mizuki. The other Mizuki looks at her younger sister with love, and Date recognizes that face. It’s the one he wears himself—the desire to protect her, to stay with her. Date will defer to Mizuki here.
But Mizuki surprises him. “Thanks, Bibi. You live with Boss, right? Do you want a ride back?” An offer of kindness, but the message is clear: Bibi is not coming home with them.
Kuranushi looks a little surprised, too, but she quickly covers it. “I’m okay. You three get home safe, okay?”
Mizuki smiles. “Yeah, you too, Bibi.” She takes Date’s hand, then, and Date only has time to wave at Kuranushi before Mizuki is dragging him back to his car.
“You’re driving, old man. It’s your car.” Date fumbles for a second, before pulling out his car keys—Kuranushi had returned them, when had she done that?—and unlocks the car. Mizuki jumps into his passenger seat, and he grips the steering wheel.
A sudden terror takes over him. He doesn’t know where Mizuki lives. No way she had kept their old apartment, she would have gotten something better and more suited to just her. There wasn’t space for him, in her new life. She had had six years on her own.
Aiba and Mizuki must both sense his trepidation. Aiba opens up a GPS navigation in his vision, and he recognizes the destination. Mizuki hadn’t moved out. She had stayed in their apartment. She must have cleaned out his stuff, he thinks, his old bed and his computer and his audio set—
“What are you thinking, old man? You better not be thinking about anything dumb. We still live in the same place, so get out of that brain of yours and drive.”
Date’s brain kicks into gear. He gets his feet on the pedals and starts driving, following Aiba’s helpful navigation. He fixates on something she said. We still live in the same place, she said. We, she said, and Date got the sense she didn’t mean herself and Aiba. He still had a place in her life.
Mizuki falls asleep on the drive home. Aiba takes this chance to speak up.
“She missed you, Date.”
“I—I missed her, too. Even if I didn’t know it. Those years when I didn’t have my memory…I knew something was missing. I stayed in a little room in Atami. Every time I came home, I…I was expecting someone to respond, if I said ‘I’m home.’ And I was lonely, too. I was always…talking to someone who wasn’t there.”
He can’t see Aiba, since she doesn’t have a good place to project herself, but he senses her sad smile. “You didn’t start driving, because you weren’t certain that you knew where home was, correct?” She doesn’t need to wait for his response. “Mizuki has hardly changed the apartment since you’ve been gone. Almost all of your stuff is untouched, apart from your hard drive and your adult literature. She erased your so-called ‘husbandry’ videos and threw out your magazines. Other than that…the apartment is mostly the same. She never stopped believing that you would come home.”
And Date feels like crying again. Mizuki had waited for him, in those six years that he had been a useless failure of a father, wandering Atami without his memories.
“You are an inextricable part of Mizuki’s life. And of my existence too, Kaname Date. Even though I’ve spent these six years with Mizuki, you were my first partner. I will never forget that.”
There’s nothing else to be said. They finish the drive in silence.
———
Mizuki wakes up when he parks the car. She holds his hand again as they walk up the stairs. She never really held his hand, even when she was eight, and this must be the third time today. He mentions this to her.
“Yeah, well, just—” She stutters, and puffs her cheeks out in a pout. “Shut up, old man.”
There is a natural human inclination for touch, Aiba says, and Mizuki turns her face away, but not fast enough for Date to miss the redness on her face from embarrassment.
They reach their front door, and Mizuki pulls away. She opens the door, and he’s a step behind entering when she whips around. There’s some uncertainty on her face.
“I know we did this at Brahman already…but I want to do it right.” Date is confused for a second, then he nods and steps back. She closes the door on him. He waits. Counts to six. One for every year he missed, he says to himself.
He knocks. Mizuki opens the door, welcomes him in. “Welcome home, Date.”
“I’m home, Mizuki.”
———
Mizuki takes a shower first. It’s a testament to just how resilient she is, that she had surgery earlier that day and she’s still moving around like nothing happened. He knows it’s to do with Horadori Institute’s experiments, but he likes to think that it’s because Mizuki is just that strong. He’s always believed in her strength.
Date sits on the couch where he had slept. He can see his speakers, untouched as Aiba had promised, and Adorabbit rests on top of his desk. The corkboard above his desk has changed. It’s not the Cyclops case, or even the HB case. Well, it’s got bits of the HB case, but not the parts he expects. It’s pictures and blueprints of the cathedral, information on thermite bombs and the architect’s report that deemed the cathedral unsafe. There’re pictures of himself, both with and without his silicone mask, and blurry security camera shots of people who slightly resembled him. A missing persons report, Ryuki’s case summary, and a crude drawing of Tearer that had clearly been stabbed through many times.
I told you, Aiba says, she never stopped hoping. She couldn’t always be looking, between school, ABIS, and Lemniscate, but she always kept an ear out.
“Ryuki…Ryuki didn’t say anything? Ryuki would have thought I was dead, what with…”
He did not. His official report says that he found my body, apparently thrown from a pile of rubble, and the ceiling began to collapse before he could find you. Date considers that. Knowing Ryuki, he would have blamed himself, so why would he lie in the case report? And Tama never said anything, either, though Date supposed that Tama was much more loyal to Ryuki than she was to ABIS, and he couldn’t fault her for that.
Aiba is hesitating. She projects her image onto Mizuki’s weightlifting equipment, sitting on the bench as Date turns to her from his spot by the desk. He furrows a brow at her, and she speaks up again.
“I don’t have memories of that case. They were lost when my body was damaged, because ABIS communications prevented me from making back-ups. So I do not remember my time with the other Mizuki, and I do not remember your last moments.”
Date, as much as he hates himself for it, is comforted that Aiba doesn’t remember her time with Kuranushi. He and Aiba had fought over some petty thing, and she had left. That hurt more than he wanted to admit. He got the sense that Aiba had more to say, so he nodded at her to continue.
“Ryuki said that you threw me from a crash site. Is that true?” And again, Date has to question why Ryuki would lie about that. He can’t fully process the emotions in Aiba’s voice. Is she hurt at being thrown, or relieved that he would try to save her? He decides on the truth.
“No. It’s not true. Aiba, I—as much as possible I wanted you to stay with me. But I—I was trapped. I couldn’t move, and there was damage to your body already. When Ryuki found me, I knew by then that I wasn’t getting out. He told me the others were safe, and that he was gonna help me, but I couldn’t think of anything else then. I gave him your body, and I asked him to keep it safe.”
He couldn’t tell if that was what Aiba wanted to hear, but she still looks at him with such affection that it hurts. “Is that when the ceiling collapsed?”
He hesitates, but he knows that Aiba knows already. “First I had to ask him…if he was the one who Tearer met at the abandoned factory. He…admitted it. Then the ceiling started to shake, and I told him to run. A big chunk of rock came down right above me, and I heard him scream. That’s all I remember.”
Aiba processes his story. She doesn’t say anything as Mizuki comes out of the bathroom, wearing Adorabbit pajamas that he’s surprised and secretly glad she still has. Well, they’re not the same set she had when she was twelve, she must be bigger now, but it’s still a familiar sight. Date catches her eye—her singular eye, and he’ll need the full story later—and she gives him that fond smirk. “Go shower, you old pervert, you stink.” She plops down on her bed and fiddles with her smartphone. Date lifts a hand to his eye, and Aiba drops into his palm, before taking her helicopter hamster form to settle on the bed next to Mizuki. Date moves into the bathroom.
He takes his time pulling off his gloves, unbuttoning his coat. He tugs down the collar of his turtleneck and his fingers brush where his silicone mask ends. He hesitates, but he slowly peels off the mask. Underneath he is met with his own face, the face of Falco, of Yagyu. The face he had worn for six years in his absence from his family.
When he had first regained this face, he couldn’t quite adjust. He thought it might just take some time—it was his face, after all, the one he was born with and the one he had spent three decades in. But it wasn’t him. Not the one he knew. In this face he had killed dozens, been an assassin, had failed Hitomi and Iris, had seen Mizuki shot, had lost Aiba—this face was the failure. So he had a custom mask made, with the excuse to Boss that everyone knew him when his face was Saito’s. She had accepted his explanation, and he carried on with the false face because he couldn’t bear to see his own.
He wore that failure face when he had no memories. He had woken up in some warehouse, and a ghostly man with half a face had greeted him. Date had been afraid, but when it became clear that he had no memories the half-faced man stopped caring. The half-faced man, who Date later found out was Uru Somezuki, had him tossed in the back of a van and abandoned by some highway in Shizuoka.
He had taken off the mask then. He had no use for it, but he kept it safe and in good condition. He didn’t know why, but he got the sense that he might need it. Or want it. Why had he been wearing a mask, when he was taken by the half faced man? But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he couldn’t let go of the mask.
When he saw the news about Jin Furue’s other half, and his memories came flooding back, he smashed the bathroom mirror, and itched until he put his mask back on.
He showers quickly, and slips into one of his old t-shirts and pajama bottoms. He comes back into the main room to find Mizuki dozing slightly, and Aiba sitting on her charging port, though still powered on and alert.
Mizuki startles, and looks at him. She takes a moment to register his face, his real face, before she speaks, “Okay, I’m going to sleep now. Goodnight, Date, Aiba.”
“Goodnight, Mizuki.” He finds blankets and a pillow on his couch, and settles in.
Goodnight, Mizuki, he hears from Aiba. Then, privately, Goodnight, Date.
Goodnight, Aiba, he thinks back at her. And they’ve still got lots to do and lots to talk about, but for tonight, they’ll rest.
———
Both of them sleep well past dawn. The next day or two is a blur. They drive to ABIS to give their official reports. Boss takes them out to lunch at Brahman, where Date and Mizuki can meet the other Mizuki more properly. She tells Date he can call her Quartz or Kuranushi or Mizuki or anything really—but Bibi is off-limits, his Mizuki only. He settles on Kuranushi, because she doesn’t really seem to like Quartz and “Mizuki” would be too confusing, but he resolves to get her a better nickname.
They don’t visit Brahman or the Enda residence yet. Mizuki says that Gen and Shoma both need time, and Date understands that. They drop by Sekiba High to talk to Mizuki’s principal. She’s taking some time out of school, Date insists, and she won’t argue. She’ll graduate soon, and he swears he’ll be there for it. He won’t miss anything else in her life.
That evening, Date makes them dinner. He tries to tell Mizuki that he’s gotten better at cooking, and she has too, but Mizuki insists and he makes the stew. They eat dinner at their little table (Aiba, in her hamster form, sits on the table, and projects a holographic image of her human form. She can’t eat, or even interact with anything physically, but Date and Mizuki give her a bowl full of stew anyway). They eat dinner and they feel like a family.
The next day, they visit Matsushita Diner for lunch. They meet up with Iris, Kuranushi, and Kizuna. Iris talks about her new single and Kizuna helps her choreograph a new routine. Date feels old, like an intruder, but none of them seem to mind. He settles at the counter while the girls prance around the diner and Ota plays Iris’s song over the diner’s speakers.
Right before they leave, Iris pulls him aside. Boss is planning another flash mob, like she did when he got Aiba back. It’ll happen as soon as Ryuki’s better, so come over to the Sagan place to start practicing, but don’t tell either Mizuki, because it’s their surprise.
Speaking of Ryuki…
Kuranushi offers to take Mizuki on a “sister bonding day” tomorrow. Mizuki accepts, but she counters that Iris and Kizuna should come too, because Iris is Mizuki’s sister via Hitomi and Date (which Date’s unsure about. They haven’t had the chance to talk, so he doesn’t know if Hitomi would even want him around. When he thinks about it, they’ve been apart more than they’ve been together. Still, he loves her) and Kizuna is obviously Kuranushi’s little sister. While Mizuki is out with the girls, Date resolves to visit Ryuki.
Mizuki makes them dinner that night. She really has gotten better at cooking.
———
Aiba spends most of the days in Mizuki’s eye socket. Date misses her, but Mizuki and Aiba make a good pair. It makes more sense, too, since he’s more used to navigating life with only one eye. He wishes Mizuki didn’t have to, but he’s glad for Aiba’s assistance. He wears his eyepatch or sometimes his glass eye.
He’s also grateful that it means he’ll have some privacy when he visits Ryuki. He drops Mizuki off at the mall—she hasn’t gotten her bike replaced yet—and he waves off the group before setting the GPS to Central Hospital.
He buys flowers from a shop on the way. He doesn’t know what else to bring, and he doesn’t want to show up empty handed.
He knew that Ryuki didn’t really have living family, but it’s still depressing to see how quiet his room was, in comparison to Mizuki’s a few days ago. It’s mid-morning, but Ryuki is sound asleep. He sets the flowers on the windowsill, and a feminine voice greets him.
“Well, if it isn’t the missing man himself.”
“Hello, Tama,” He greets back. She is perched in her seaweed extract form on the headboard. She seems slightly miffed at him, but her tone softens as she updates him on Ryuki’s condition.
“He’ll be okay,” She says, and there’s so much care in her voice that Date forgets she’s an AI, “They took the bullet out, and we avoided any major damage to his spine. He’ll need some physical therapy, probably…and regular therapy, too.” Date doesn’t know what to say to that. He has a question for Ryuki, but he doesn’t think he could really face Ryuki when asking, so he decides to ask Tama.
“In Ryuki’s report...he never reported me dead. He had no reason to believe I was alive, and he lied about talking to me. Do...do you know why?”
Tama’s voice is firm again. (Ryuki hadn’t been kidding when he had mentioned how quickly she could change.) “I hope you’re not accusing him of anything.”
“I’m not,” Date quickly refutes, “I just want to know why.”
She feels like she’s frowning at him, even without a mouth to frown with, “He blamed himself. He couldn’t live with the idea that you were gone, and that it was his fault. He looked up to you so much that he...he wanted to believe that you were alive.
“It’s not his fault, by the way!” She exclaims suddenly, and Date is taken aback.
“I know! I know, and I don’t blame him, for anything he did. Even when he followed Tearer’s plan, he did it to protect you. If there’s anything I can understand, it’s that.” Tama accepts his forgiveness, and she is quiet for a moment. She looks back at her partner, still undisturbed in his rest. She doesn’t meet his gaze when she speaks again.
“He’s in love with you, you know.” And yes, Date knows, how could he not? He’s not so oblivious to miss the way that Ryuki looked at him, the way he shielded him without hesitation, the way that Ryuki hung on to his every word, even when it was the dumbest unfiltered nonsense coming out.
“I know.”
“And?”
“I can’t. I don’t…I don’t love him the same way.” Tama fixes him with a glare, which is surprisingly intense given that she’s only an eyeball. “I care about him. He’s my junior, and my friend, but I don’t love him like that.”
He’s again surprised by the softness in Tama’s voice. “Well, I figured as much,” she says, and there’s no anger in her tone at all, “As long as you do care about him, that’s enough.”
“I do care about him,” Date repeats, “And I know you’ll take care of him. And anyway, I’m too old for him. He’ll find someone. Someone better for him, with more to give him. Someone who will really make him happy.”
“He will,” Tama smiles, “And he’ll never be alone. I swear it.”
They both take a minute. Ryuki is still asleep, at peace in the golden sunlight. Date won’t wake him, and neither will Tama. Date knows he’s in good hands, even if those hands are made of seaweed extract. He leaves Ryuki and Tama in the hospital room with a promise to visit again while Ryuki’s awake.
———
It’s just past noon when he arrives at the Sagan residence. Iris and Mizuki are still out, so he and Hitomi cook lunch. He leaves his mask on. He’s not quite ready to face himself. But he’s got his family. He’s got Ryuki who will be out of the hospital soon, he’s got Boss and Pewter who want him back to work, Hitomi and Iris who want him and Mizuki over for dinner constantly, and he’s got Kuranushi to get to know better.
Most importantly, he’s got his daughter and his partner. Mizuki and Aiba, who will come home from their day at the mall and see his real face and that’s okay. They accept him, all his failures, and welcomed him home even after his absence.
So maybe he’s a little more emotional when he says “Welcome home” that night, without his mask. Sue him, he’s got years to make up.
#heyyyy I haven't written anything in like six years (ha) but i have ai:ni brainrot so#aini spoilers#fanfic#kaname date#mizuki date#aiba aitsf#tama aitsf#ryuki is here but he does not talk#datomi is mentioned
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Republikkkans refuse any gun control methods whatsoever.
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If you ever heard the Liberty Bell March playing in the distance in a public session, it was probably this Future Shock Bruiser shunting across Los Santos. This was a vehicle I had passed over for quite some time until the passengers in my Scarab got fed up with being thrown out of its bed and I was pressured to try the only other Arena vehicle with four seats. To my surprise, it had just as much composure as the imitation Mercedes that it was converted from and felt like an actual limousine, instead of a limousine body grafted onto a box truck frame. It was easy to drive and easy to fly, unlike the Scarab and Imperator, and more than one of my friends mentioned that they found it genuinely relaxing to be bounced across the sky in it. Having dreamed of a job as a limousine driver, those compliments meant a great deal to me.
The radio in this Comet Safari was permanently stuck playing Black Sabbath's "Paranoid" on repeat. I love regular cars with lift kits and off-road modifications, and the Comet Safari nailed the look while also being a complete blast to drive. Getting this car fully kitted out, complete with inaccessible colored interior, made me feel like I had gone back to being a kid playing Rock 'n Roll Racing.
I don't care what anyone says. Sure, it had broken textures on the wheel arches. Sure, it had poor customization. Sure, it wasn't a proper AMG wagon. I loved the Streiter. It was a damn good car and I'm tired of pretending it wasn't. It handled well and it was impressively quick for a four-door off-road capable car. A station wagon is a station wagon, even if it's based on an obscure customized version of one, and I adored the Streiter just like any other station wagon and drove it everywhere I could regardless of the haters.
When the Gunrunning update was released, it was easy to overlook the humble Half-Track. You wouldn't think to drive this old truck over fancy materiel like the APC and Insurgent, but it was later discovered to be the ultimate counter to infantry because it had a completely bulletproof windshield. Like a bombproof Armored Kuruma, you could shoot out of it, and others couldn't shoot into it. This made it perfect for routing griefers who had dug themselves in deep and breaking their spirit. As a player who never touched hacking utilities, nothing made me smile more than being called a hacker when using a vehicle like this.
My Imani Tech vehicle of choice was the Granger 3600LX, and I owned two of them to cover both bases. This one was driven fairly often, and it was given the missile jammer as well as an OEM Sable Metallic paint job. Being more understated than the other cars with jammers made it great as a "leave me alone" vehicle. Nobody wanted to mess with this hippo.
I knew I was getting old when I started getting a hankering for a Sandking. Way back when I started playing, I had a Sandking XL that I took out now and then, but in the years that followed I learned more about trucks and came to realize that the Sandking SWB perfect for me. I didn't want fast or flashy, I just wanted a big comfy Hank Hill truck to drive around, and the SWB delivered with a soft suspension that still allowed it to go rock climbing and have fun now and then. The fact that I'm not into crew cabs and had to drive an uncomfortable Home Depot single cab also likely contributed to my acceptance of extended cab as the superior configuration. Now if only they weren't so expensive in real life.
The Stromberg was one of the few vehicles in the game that could be described as heroic. It was built for undersea travel, but saw most of its use as an Oppressor killer and even stayed relevant well after the Mk II released because brainless riders and the game's poor coding allowed the Stromberg to bypass their countermeasures. Many players switched to the Toreador for bike hunting, but I stuck with my handsome Stromberg because of its superior protection against bullets and because the passenger was magically able to phase their arm through the window to use drive-by weapons. My best friend and I had good synergy, and he was quick on the draw with the flare gun which made our Stromberg practically untouchable to Deluxos and Oppressors. More often than not, teamwork came out on top when it came to GTA PVP.
I bought this Guardian in 2015 because "haha big truck go vroom" and it was my faithful companion all the way to the very end. It's been through several paintjobs, several battles, several parties, and it's got the forced modded license plate to prove it. The Guardian was always the bringer of good times because it was a fast, capable vehicle that any number of people could stand on as it drove, well after the seats had been filled. Before things like CEO Buzzards and dedicated anti-aircraft weapons were added, we used to use them as makeshift air defense technicals by having someone stand in the back with an RPG or missile launcher. The game itself eventually gave a nod to this behavior, adding a mission in which you transported armored combat suits on the back of a flatbed truck where the strategy was to ignore the flatbed entirely and use a Guardian. The prevalence of explosives eventually pushed the Guardian out of a combat role, but it never stopped being the life of the party whenever it came out of the garage, with crewmates and randoms alike partying it up in the back. The Guardian was a vehicle I had a very special kinship with and it's one of the things I will miss the most.
As the twilight years began, this Future Shock Dominator came to represent everything I loved and stood for in GTA. On the surface, it was a benign little car, looking like a plain old S197 Mustang with AliExpress lights stuffed in the grille. But as I mastered the shunt boost, this car became a thing of beauty that could go anywhere and everywhere. It spoke to my heart, calling out the young child who grew up renting Blaster Master every weekend and making me fall in love with a jumping vehicle all over again. It had everything I wanted in a car, combining the speed and handling of a muscle with the mobility of a motorcycle and a skill ceiling that ensured there was always something new to learn, from how to rescue a trapped sale vehicle to how to drop straight down into a car meet from a thousand feet up. The funniest thing is, I absolutely hated this Dominator at first, and thought that techno-beehive on its back was the ugliest thing. But then I test drove one and discovered its incredible stability in flight, and it was like seeing the beautiful woman beneath the ugly glasses for the first time. Every time I popped that tombstone off for a drive, it was like uncorking a bottle of fine wine. I drove this car up until my very last day in Los Santos and nothing will ever replace it.
Finally, we have the three Craftybikes: past, present, and future.
The Ruffian was the first motorcycle I ever fell in love with. It was cheap, it was fast, it was good-looking, and most importantly, it was an amazing stunt bike. The Ruffian was the perfect machine to pop my stunt cherry on after migrating from GTA IV and San Andreas, as it could vault over just about anything simply by popping a wheelie into it at speed. It was on this motorcycle that I began to earn a reputation in our crew as a stunt biker, and the curious triple headlight that came with it from the factory was one of the first things to tip me off that vehicle customization in this game was not entirely as it seemed.
About a year and a half into the game's life on PC, the FCR 1000 was released to a great deal of fanfare. Many of my crewmates flocked to the FCR 1000 Custom for its old-school military style, but as I drove my unmodified one for the first time, its modest appearance and weighty handling caught my attention and never let go. In this often-overlooked bike, I found a wall-climbing animal with a tight suspension that gave it huge air from curbs and bumps, a field that the Ruffian left me longing for as I continued to hone my stunting skills. More importantly, it had only one seat, which cleanly solved the dilemma of curious people wanting to see my prowess firsthand, not knowing that having a second rider absolutely crushed a motorcycle's performance. Spending a lot of alone time with this bike was what really kicked me into high gear with GTA bikes and got me thinking about how they could be used with other creative projects.
Five years later, the Reever appeared on the scene to become the champion of all the game's motorcycles. It delivered a host of customizations, impressive stunt potential, and speed that was nearly unmatched, all in one bike. Many of its owners customized theirs to look futuristic, myself among that number with my low-gripped spare, but the circular headlight and fairing inspired me to shape my primary Reever in the image of my old FCR 1000, which had long since taken on a life of its own by that point. The Reever kept me company as we all began to go our separate ways and wind down, and it was on this bike that I rode off into the sunset, just as the Ruffian had brought me into this lawless town nine years ago.
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so as late as I am with watching la by night I still want to say something cause I spent the last few weeks binging it and it basically fucked up my sleep schedule (and more lol) anyway as sad as it was to see jasper distancing himself from the coterie, I think it was the healthiest and most reasonable option for him in the long run. nelli and Victor obviously care about him (I love that nelli learned to respect him - wayy more than Victor does - and I'm so happy she's his baron) and after one finishes watching the last episode it's easy to look back at older episodes in season 1 and 2 and see one big happy coterie and wish things were as they once were, but in truth jasper and the others were kinda never fully happy with one another? I might be biased because Victor was my least favorite character throughout most of the series, but I still think Victor, as excellent a ventrue as he is, was kind of..uh, abusive sometimes? to Nelli and jasper in particular. Fiona might have been in over her head and an asshole but she was right when she pointed out that limousine thing to nelli, and we had already seen nelli expressing her displeasure at Victor parading it around and making her use it by pretending that getting rid of it was a waste of a good armored limousine. it belonged to her abuser and he kept it as a reminder nonetheless. plus I really disliked some bits and pieces of his behavior toward jasper, which all came to the surface in the second to last episode in s04 when jasper got so mad and they wouldn't even make him speak a word - not to mention that Victor, even when he accommodates others, is always so.... condescending and I really don't know how jasper never tried to punch him in the face sometimes.
other than this I just wanted to say every single bit of that epilogue destroyed me and x's fate is so so so unfair and I hope he hangs around jasper after he solves his problem. the scenes in the ocean are always so hauntingly beautiful and sad, I still have a roaring headache cause of crying 🥳
lastly, I really don't want to talk about Eva - it's too sad and too shocking and seeing her descend into obsession and thinking there's no redemption for her hurt a lot and idk, I just hope she didn't hang around to see the dawn
I really hope ny by night won't break me as much as labn did (or maybe I do 😩)
#peace#me watching la by night#la by night#AND ANOTHER THING ahdhdjjdjd#idk I know Victor is very well loved#every time I checked the YouTube comments I always found a hord eof Victor stans#but I never really vibes with him?#he's an excellent character and a perfect ventrue and I like the actor#but sometimes I really struggled with the character#there were moments in which I disliked him immensely#others in which I appreciated him#and don't get me wrong he was right most of the time#but the way he said things or did things. nope#he has a lot of issues with consent#and stuff#anyway#I've seen lots of people hating Annabelle on youtube#and ok sometimes her naivete and idealism can be a bit over the top and annoying but#it's nothing compared to some of Victor's behaviors#and yet everyone seemed to like him so much#should I tag it as#Victor temple critical#?#lmao#p
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World leaders know their place at the funeral of the century
LONDON — It was the grandest of state funerals. It was a rare moment of shared national reflection. It was also a masterclass in diplomatic choreography.
Two full hours before Queen Elizabeth II’s solemn state funeral began at 11 a.m. Monday, the world leaders began to arrive. They came in waves — with a clear hierarchy on display.
For most, their arrival at the 750-year-old Westminster Abbey, just across the road from the Palace of Westminster, involved gingerly stepping off a coach onto a sawdust-strewn London pavement.
U.S. President Joe Biden, apparently the sole overseas visitor allowed to dodge the VIP ‘park and ride’ system in place for foreign dignitaries, arrived early in his armored limousine known as ‘The Beast’. He was the first incumbent U.S. president ever to attend a British monarch’s funeral.
LONDON — It was the grandest of state funerals. It was a rare moment of shared national reflection. It was also a masterclass in diplomatic choreography.
Two full hours before Queen Elizabeth II’s solemn state funeral began at 11 a.m. Monday, the world leaders began to arrive. They came in waves — with a clear hierarchy on display.
For most, their arrival at the 750-year-old Westminster Abbey, just across the road from the Palace of Westminster, involved gingerly stepping off a coach onto a sawdust-strewn London pavement.
U.S. President Joe Biden, apparently the sole overseas visitor allowed to dodge the VIP ‘park and ride’ system in place for foreign dignitaries, arrived early in his armored limousine known as ‘The Beast’. He was the first incumbent U.S. president ever to attend a British monarch’s funeral.
Foreign royals, who had arrived on luxury mini-buses, were given some of the best seats in the abbey, with King Willem-Alexander of the Netherlands, and members of the Spanish royal family, sitting near the queen’s immediate family near the altar. Europe’s longest-serving living monarch, Queen Margrethe of Denmark, sat directly opposite King Charles.
Former British prime ministers — John Major, Tony Blair, Gordon Brown, David Cameron, Theresa May and Boris Johnson — arrived separately in a fleet of black BMWs. They were seated together, near the royal family in choir stalls. Cherie Blair and Gordon Brown — famously unhappy neighbors in Downing Street back in the 2000s — chatted animatedly as they waited for the service to start. Former Tory leaders May and Johnson were tactfully separated by the genial Philip May.
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A legal analyst from Fox News has given his reasoning for why Donald Trump could face prosecution due to evidence coming to light from the January 6th hearings. Cenk Uygur and Ana Kasparian discuss on The Young Turks. Watch LIVE weekdays 6-8 pm ET. http://youtube.com/theyoungturks/live Read more HERE: https://news.yahoo.com/wing-news-declares-trump-unfit-080155438.html "New testimony from the most recent Jan. 6 committee hearing shows that former President Donald Trump is a “disgrace” who is “unfit to be anywhere near power ever again,” according to right-wing news website the Washington Examiner. Cassidy Hutchinson, an aide to Mark Meadows while he was Trump’s White House chief of staff, gave jaw-dropping testimony Tuesday that indicated Trump knew his supporters were armed and potentially violent but encouraged them to help him overthrow the 2020 election anyway. She also testified that a Secret Service agent told her that Trump tried to grab the wheel of his armored limousine to turn back to the Capitol when the Secret Service informed him they’d be unable to take him there on Jan. 6. The Examiner noted that Hutchinson, at 25, had already worked at the highest levels of Republican politics, and was “a conservative Trumpist true believer and a tremendously credible one at that.” “What Hutchinson relayed was disturbing. She gave believable accounts of White House awareness that the planned Jan. 6 rally could turn violent. She repeated testimony that Trump not only knew that then-Vice President Mike Pence’s life had been credibly threatened that day but also that he was somewhere between uncaring and actually approving of Pence’s danger,” the site said, before going on to relay other shocking elements of Hutchinson’s testimony, including his episode in the presidential motorcade and his “fits of rage” throwing food at walls." *** The largest online progressive news show in the world. Hosted by Cenk Uygur and Ana Kasparian. LIVE weekdays 6-8 pm ET. Help support our mission and get perks. Membership protects TYT's independence from corporate ownership and allows us to provide free live shows that speak truth to power for people around the world. See Perks: ▶ https://www.youtube.com/TheYoungTurks/join SUBSCRIBE on YOUTUBE: ☞ http://www.youtube.com/subscription_center?add_user=theyoungturks FACEBOOK: ☞ http://www.facebook.com/TheYoungTurks TWITTER: ☞ http://www.twitter.com/TheYoungTurks INSTAGRAM: ☞ http://www.instagram.com/TheYoungTurks TWITCH: ☞ http://www.twitch.com/tyt 👕 Merch: http://shoptyt.com ❤ Donate: http://www.tyt.com/go 🔗 Website: https://www.tyt.com 📱App: http://www.tyt.com/app 📬 Newsletters: https://www.tyt.com/newsletters/ If you want to watch more videos from TYT, consider subscribing to other channels in our network: The Damage Report ▶ https://www.youtube.com/thedamagereport Indisputable with Dr. Rashad Richey ▶ https://www.youtube.com/indisputabletyt Watchlist with Jayar Jackson ▶ https://www.youtube.com/watchlisttyt TYT Sports ▶ https://www.youtube.com/tytsports The Conversation ▶ https://www.youtube.com/tytconversation Rebel HQ ▶ https://www.youtube.com/rebelhq TYT Investigates ▶ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwNJt9PYyN1uyw2XhNIQMMA #TYT #TheYoungTurks #BreakingNews 220630__TB04_Right_Wingers by The Young Turks
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Do Does Not Have To Be Onerous. Learn These 8 Ideas
NYPD video surveillance cameras seize James driving the U-Haul over the Verrazano Narrows Bridge and entering Brooklyn after crossing state strains from Pennsylvania, New Jersey after which New York. They prefer to sit at house and be picked up at the front door and taken to the airport by a skilled New York limousine service. Additionally, discover out if any dwelling improvements are subject to city approval. On the next three pages, we'll break down every charge that may probably be included in closing on a house buy. One of these tours supplies three hours to discover the area and you may enjoy a BBQ lunch, the Hualapai Ranch, Indian Cultural Center, and transportation to the assorted points of interest on the park's shuttles. 2014: One World Commerce Middle opens, the tallest building within the Western Hemisphere. To be the one who hires the correct people, inspects the supplies personally, checks and double-checks figures and costs, and -- maybe most importantly -- both makes the principles of the mission and enforces them. Perform the stretch the identical manner with the correct leg. There are numerous choices to select from, like Standard Stretch, Super Stretch, SUV Hummer, Escalade, Rolls Royce, and so forth. After that comes choosing the right coloration.
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If extra staff members are needed, off-obligation SWAT agents will likely be paged. Given enough time, the workforce will formulate a more extensive plan primarily based on all of the intel they have gathered. At this level, they have been given no formal command to assemble as a staff, but they may begin preparing their gear and heading to police headquarters if they don't seem to be in the middle of something that can't wait. The unique acronym, "Special Weapons Assault Group," was viewed as too antagonistic, so Gates modified it to "Particular Weapons and Ways." nyc limousine cemented the SWAT group's place within the trendy police drive: a barricade stand-off with members of the radical militant Black Panther Party in 1969, and a related scenario with the Symbionese Liberation Military in 1974. The following year, a community television collection known as "S.W.A.T." further embedded the concept of a SWAT workforce into American consciousness. Once the SWAT crew arrives at police headquarters, they are going to be briefed on the situation earlier than loading into their SWAT vehicle.
We'll study a number of the gear used by SWAT workforce members in the subsequent section. Coaching for SWAT group members will be grueling. Long distance runs, generally while sporting heavy body armor, are mixed with push-ups, sit-ups, weight coaching and obstacle course coaching for agility. The Knight Grasp Key S. Ciena Ultimate are mixture guns of this sort. Most SWAT units require all members to be master marksmen, and plenty of workforce members are qualified marksmanship trainers. Uzis, AK-47s and M-16s are all common, and the H&Okay MP-5 is another in style choice. Golden parachutes are usually not for when your executives go on that skydiving retreat that costs the company 1000's! The municipal costs of SWAT groups can range tremendously. They're so highly effective that a shot can simply go straight by means of a suspect (and even a wall) and hit a hostage or bystander. If the SWAT team is missing some crucial info, akin to the specific location of the suspect and hostages in a barricaded home, they will ship team members to collect it using surveillance tools. To gather intelligence on a scenario, SWAT teams will use many forms of surveillance equipment.
Federal grants, many obtainable via the Department of Homeland Security, can assist police agencies pay for SWAT training and equipment. This training consists of handguns, long guns and sub-machine guns. It is also potential to mount a shotgun below the barrel of a sub-machine gun. The benefits of a shotgun include extreme stopping energy at shut range. There are a number of models of 12-gauge shotgun helpful for SWAT functions. You may additionally want to arrange a reporting schedule to replace your usual eyeball-to-eyeball meetings to make sure that you know at common intervals the place your staff are with initiatives, or other work. You should then decide if there are other staff that obligation could possibly be assigned to or distributed amongst. Garage sales are so 1994. If your mother and father have a lifetime's worth of old toys, gently used furnishings or outdated electronics piled up within the attic, grab an industrial-energy garbage bag, toss out the true junk and sell the remaining on-line. Smaller cities can get by with a 10-individual team that carries out regular police features, however can reply as a SWAT team when the need arises. Vibrant flash that can temporarily disorient individuals during a SWAT team raid. Thermal imaging and even radar programs allow police to see the locations of folks in whole darkness, via dense smoke or fog, and sometimes through partitions.
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Blue Sky Lyrics
[Text of the song “Blue Sky”]
[Intro: Sample from Planet of the Apes]
He– he kills for sport, or lust, or greed
[Scratch: Civilized Boy]
[Verse: Shiloh]
Blue sky, black Jeep Cherokee, Japanese beer
Israeli ultrasound, Russian maybe, tall nettle
Colombian cocaine, quiet shot, Dutch buds
Light gray jacket, dark red spots, Fedya's guts
Swiss watches, branchy trees, narrow cigarettes
Silk shirt, sticky mud, bad omens
A sharp call, pain in the forearm, an overwhelming market
Long beeps, tinted windows, greyhound Nazar
Afghan hashish, French cognac, Nazar pushes
Spacious limousine, crap deal, Nazar is dying
Purple sky, armored Brabus, Moroccan hashish
Atmosphere of mistrust, terrible fucks, we're taking profit
Black Label, lots of ice, money in suitcases
Cuban cigars, things have been decided, let's heal the wounds
Issyk-Kul hashish, Italian cuisine, double espresso
Pole striptease, wonderful blowjob, stress relief
Starry sky, Colombian cocaine, cold cola
Dutch bumps, flat screen, injection pain
Water bed, colorful fireworks, deep breathing
Sweetness in the members, visual hallucinations, thanks for your attention
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A serious thing it would be a bigger vehicle and it would be more bulky like this and the grill would be like the Genesis more so which house is the same shape but the body would resemble this and it's not too hard to conceive because our perceived is because I've been doing for a while but I do see what you're saying those cars would be like the main stay and Rolls-Royce has a similar thing going on and so does Bentley and this would be there higher end and they're larger and thicker Hull and they have bigger motors and they're more luxurious with more options on the inside that are
Trump
We're going to go ahead with this at some point but will bring renderings and really the 3D and then come out pretty good and the concept is not lost and he likes it and now's the Time everything is speeding up and changing and they want to compete with Ben and Mac or their enemies and he would retain dealerships is what he wants to do and some distributorships and it's an idea because and maybe even assembly because it would keep the business going and it would be no hiccups he's sort of likes it and he likes the assembly he can armor his so it's probably going to go ahead with that last bit and this car would be awesome it would be like the Rolls-Royce they have now that's like that it's like a phantom and the grill is big like it used to be and they still make it and people buy them at the top now he's starting to get what he's saying this is going to be a full-blown attempt and it says he has some money and he has to spend it on something you can spending on castles and he can spend it on the cars and they'll have like this legacy so he's going to sit down and meet about it and he owns 100% of the company so he gets it and he can have input on deciding things but if he goes mental and wants everything electric we're going to have to stop him even if he wants train to get back at Blake and others so he's kind of laughing about it but we think it's a good idea he does too and he knew you were thinking it the whole time and it's actually excited about the idea of doing the assembly and sales it'd be really weird because our son is the line from Rolls-Royce and for him to work there even under the table like detailing the car or something it would be like worth a lot of money you make like $1,000 and Shaker would make probably about 2 million extra dollars to have you clean it and prep it for delivery and he's actually smiled because it's like this weird thing to do and just this kid is beating on everything now making him tons of money is his people buying it that's a very weird thing. The whole series of things going on but this is a big item and people think it's a huge item and it really is and the armor and stuff he would make and put on himself during assembly and the glass would change out and all sorts of stuff could happen that would be fun.
Thor Freya
And yeah you can make limousines and they're not as much fun though they are they have a lot of them with Rolls-Royce and Bentley and it's on purpose and this would be a great car this is an awesome idea I'm going to pre-approve it and we're going to have a pre agreement made up free sales and we're going to try and do it this weekend I like what he's saying too that we'd have assembly and that we would attempt it of course in the perimeter and we would have the sales offices and that would probably be permanent anyways and we do understand that
Trump
Olympus we approve these ideas and we're going to try and go ahead
He has not been thinking about doing it and my husband takes no he probably wasn't is probably thinking of upgrading it himself and he just doesn't have the time and manpower and energy but he does to do the armor and it's really a bulletproofing and everybody is trying to do it it would be easy and other people might start doing it that way but those two goons clicking crack over there don't seem to want to do anything this will actually get them going
Hera they're probably going to stop this pseudo empire stuff fairly soon because they're going to have to the warlock are going to counter shortly and they're going to lose
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Fleet of black, fleet of black limousines
Oh tinted machines, here comes the cavalcade
With the armored cars, armored cars like Barettas
Flags on antennas designed to keep me safe, keep me safe
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When Wagner mercenary group leader, caterer, and convicted robber Yevgeny Prigozhin met his fiery death alongside other Wagner leaders 30 miles southeast of Valdai, Russian President Vladimir Putin’s favorite lakefront residence, most assumed that it was the Russian president’s long-awaited revenge for Prigozhin’s failed mutiny this summer. But real reasons for what was almost certainly an assassination, and the implications of the killing for regime stability, are likely quite different.
The idea that this was revenge is tempting, given that Prigozhin’s mutiny, even if it rapidly disintegrated, seemed like a humiliation for Putin. But look at events since then, and it doesn’t add up. Revenge motive is inconsistent with Putin’s apparent forgiveness of Prigozhin in the strange deal struck in June, when in return for amnesty, the mutineer agreed to pull back his armored column marching on Moscow, disarm his troops, and go into exile to Belarus. Instead, judging by the flight records of Prigozhin’s private jet and in-person sightings all over St. Petersburg, Moscow, and Africa, he had done everything but set up residence in a Minsk villa.
Prigozhin and Putin both rose to wealth and power in the tumultuous and chaotic 1990s. That was the time of razborki—gangland confrontations, where disputes over the spoils of power would be resolved in a montage of violence. Bombings and contract shootings of oligarchs, rival businessmen, politicians, and organized crime figures were a regular occurrence on the streets of Russia’s major cities. Being a rich man in Russia was an inherently risky and deadly business.
Part of Putin’s appeal to Russia’s elite, whether they were criminals, businessmen, or politicians, was that he ended, or at least capped, that violence. Indeed, as of 2021, the homicide rate in Russia had dropped nearly 76 percent since the start of Putin’s tenure. Disputes could be resolved nonlethally by the system established by Putin, not by bullets fired into a limousine. Enemies of the regime, such as journalists, were fair game, but the gangsters who held power, officially or otherwise, were protected. In the aftermath of his failed mutiny, Prigozhin was offered a chance to keep playing by those rules; his refusal, and his brutal end, may mean a return to the era of bloody contestation.
Far from being ostracized by Russia’s president, by Putin’s own account, Prigozhin met with him in the Kremlin only a mere week after the armed revolt. In July, Prigozhin posted a photograph of himself attending the Kremlin-organized Africa leaders’ summit in St. Petersburg, where Putin held court with 17 heads of state, hardly an indication of a man on the run from Russian intelligence.
The theory that Russia’s president was simply trying to lull Wagner’s leader into a sense of safety before ordering a bomb to be placed on his plane is also illogical. The Kremlin had numerous opportunities to order Prigozhin’s death during his free-wheeling travels across Russia over the past two months.
To be sure, revenge can be a famously cold dish. But it wasn’t cost-free for Putin to appear to change his mind and revoke his pledges of Prigozhin’s safety. Having failed to destroy Wagner during its “March for Justice” on Moscow—and officials in Kyiv shared information with me indicating that Russian combat pilots had refused to follow orders to fire on the mutineers—Putin acquiesced to a pardon for Prigozhin to end the uprising and publicly guaranteed his safety. Playing into that decision was likely not just a desire to quickly and with limited destruction put an end to this embarrassing episode, but also a belief that Wagner forces—the only ones who have demonstrated ability to conquer Ukrainian territory this year—could prove useful to Kremlin’s imperialist ambitions in the future. The price of the deal was merely a promise to let Prigozhin disappear into obscurity.
While Putin certainly lies routinely to the world community, the press, and the Russian public, doing so to an elite insider in the Russian government’s clannish and mafia-like system is much more consequential. Other security elites and oligarchs might start wondering if they themselves could fall victim to similar deception, and whether Putin’s word could ever be trusted. The unwritten oligarch rule of the Putin era is this: As long as you share the spoils of your gains with officials in power, abide by Kremlin’s wishes in whatever may be asked of you, and don’t engage in unsanctioned political activities, the system will take care of you, provide personal safety, and ensure your continued enrichment. The consequences for Putin of breaking that sacrament could mean the eventual loss of elite’s trust and backing.
Another indication that Prigozhin was not perceived as a traitor who deserved death for his betrayal is the reaction of key members of the Russian elite to his death. Alexey Dumin, a former Putin bodyguard and the current governor of the Tula region and often-mentioned possible successor as minister of defense, declared that Prigozhin was a “true patriot who had done a lot for his country and Motherland will remember him for it,” going even as far as to proclaim about the dead Wagner leaders that “traitors they were not.” Ramzan Kadyrov, the powerful head of Chechnya and a Putin loyalist, said that Prigozhin’s death is a “big loss for the nation.” This praise from key Kremlin power elites would be unlikely if Prigozhin had been eliminated for disloyalty.
The reason why Prigozhin could have been earnestly forgiven for his armed uprising is that his actions were not intended to challenge Putin’s position in power. Instead, Prigozhin was protesting—albeit with armored troop columns that shot down multiple helicopters and a command and control aircraft of the Russian Aerospace Forces—the plan by Minister of Defense Sergei Shoigu to dismantle private military companies like Wagner and subsume them under Russian armed forces. Prigozhin’s mutiny was not about replacing the Kremlin’s leader; it was about keeping control of his mercenary troops and the highly lucrative opportunities they afforded him. The entire uprising was effectively a business dispute among Russian elites—one that resulted in murderous mayhem .
The more likely explanation for why Putin ultimately ordered the assassination is that it was Prigozhin, not Putin, who had gone back on their June agreement mediated by Belarusian President Aleksandr Lukashenko. Said or unsaid, it is clear that the penance for Prigozhin’s act of rebellion was the demand for the mutineer to give up much of his vast business empire and allow the Kremlin’s friends to subsume its various parts.
And initially, this went as agreed. Prigozhin shut down his propagandist media organizations—including the infamous Internet Research Agency troll farm, whose interference in U.S. elections had earned Prigozhin an indictment by the Justice Department. He also had his Wagner troops return their heavy arms to the Russian military and reportedly terminated his catering contracts with the Russian Ministry of Defense.
But there was one part of his important business interests he was not willing to give up—his security and mining operations in Africa. For nearly a decade, Wagner had been operating across the continent to provide security assistance, training, and occasional coup support (and torture and terror killing campaigns) in Mali, the Central African Republic, Sudan, Mozambique, Libya, and Chad. In exchange, Prigozhin locked up for himself valuable mining interests for regional natural resources, such as gold, diamonds, oil, and gas.
On my recent trip to Kyiv, I was informed by Ukrainian government officials that they had information indicating that Prigozhin had accumulated more than $4 billion worth of gold alone from these endeavors. But Putin decided after Wagner’s rebellion that it was time for Prigozhin to give up these mercenary protection rackets—and time for his Russian military intelligence agency, the GRU, and other regime-affiliated private military companies such as Redut, to take them over. More reliable members of the security state would be rewarded while Prigozhin was punished.
As the Wall Street Journal reported recently, Putin had personally told the president of Central African Republic that it was time to end his relationship with Prigozhin, and the Russian Ministry of Defense had sent delegations to African strongmen to tell them that from now on they were to deal directly with the Russian government.
But Prigozhin apparently refused to take the hint. Instead, in his last days, he was crisscrossing Africa—going from Bangui, the capital of the Central African Republic, to Bamako, the capital of Mali. Everywhere he went, he insisted—in private meetings and a video that he later released on his Telegram social media channel—that Wagner would continue to increase its presence and support to these African leaders. To his allied commanders in Sudan, who had brought him gold from Darfur’s Songo mine, the Journal reported that he said, “I need more gold.”
These defiant actions must have infuriated Putin. In the TV broadcast eulogy after Prigozhin’s death, Putin referred to him as a “talented businessman” who had made “serious mistakes in life,” but he also went into a strange and seemingly out-of-place level of detail on Prigozhin’s business dealings in Africa—the only specific reference to the oligarch’s vast business empire—and his engagement “in oil, gas, precious metals, and stones there.”
From Putin’s perspective, Prigozhin, rather than taking a chance at clemency and disappearing into oblivion, had the arrogance to continue to oppose Putin’s wishes. There could not and would not be a second forgiveness. Once again, Prigozhin arrogantly miscalculated a business dispute with Putin and other Russian elites, and it led to his demise.
Others seem to have made similar mistakes. The strain on the system caused by Putin’s botched invasion of Ukraine has meant an intensification of violence, albeit for most in a less flashy way. With far less money to go around, a growing security paranoia, and the hollowing out of the state grimly exposed by military failures, competition is deadlier that it has been for decades. This year alone, 16 prominent Russian business figures and government officials, in addition to Prigozhin, have perished from causes as varied as falling out of windows, dying days after receiving a cancer diagnosis, traffic accidents, drowning, suicide, and even being burned alive from a fire started by a lit cigarette. Now we can add a plane disintegrating in the sky to that long list.
Razborki and elite infighting are back in Russia after more than 20 years of Putin-enforced stability, and with them comes the increasing likelihood that Russia devolves further and further into chaos, which could one day endanger Putin’s own hold on power.
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Asian porn
The girl kissed the guy, and his penis wrapped around his legs and he crawled home like a snake
His middle fingers shoot lasers he aims and insults
How did you manage to get irradiated in a laser tag
That car engines have a volume control, and bass, with the sound of a man peeing in continuous panos
He can't poop without the composition of a Valkyrie flight, a scarf and pilot glasses from the early twentieth century, a cap (a woman flying an airplane), this song is needed to drown out his cries, he has a lot of toilet rituals and superstitions, especially after oriental cuisine
New fashion boutique. Star thongs, star venereal diseases, hello I want germs and venereal diseases, names famous girls and women, the store is called celebrity microbes, very important and pretentious microbes and viruses coming out of the limousine, this limousine is very strange, as if the tunnel is a penis, I hope there is wi-fi there, I heard that only in the anus area, but there is a dangerous ghetto
Oh don't invite your friend, why, he's a silent killer of a great mood
She is our super-secret weapon, dubious super beauty model spy, her penis shoots with a laser, and farts with poisonous gas within a radius of five hundred meters, well, you gave everything away
Have you taken these pills? From this, a large, thick clitoris grows, now you understand women much better, I noticed that you now have two tubercles
In the production room, and I'm not at all interested in your drug den, you musicians can only count up to three, so you are far from Mozart
When you say important, cool speeches, always insert an unexpected word: olle
Your wallet is like a used condom, after a beach holiday with your wife, she shredded your budget
Your wife fucks your brain without lube and with a vibrator, all you hear when she screams is a buzz
And at the end of the book, he hit the girl he loves in the nose and passionately kissed an unfamiliar, busty blonde, and they got many, many busty sons
A woman goes on maternity leave, vacated her workplace, turned on the peg peg alarm, ten years have passed, and they are still waiting for her
Mutual support in Kazakhstan. Not bad, not bad, of course it sucks compared to me, but it's not bad that, you yourself are not developed in this field of activity, oh sorry, I hurt your feelings
You are moderately scandalous today, I'm just not in the voice, mi mi mi, so listen here
Gray hair, hair styling gel, chrome steel
Egoists think about their ego: uh, ho?
What should I do to make her shut up, call a welder? It is unlikely that he will succeed, you saw her mouth, the whole airfield will fit, I'm scared when she speaks next to me
He rarely blinks, it's scary, he's just a dream of any photographer
Why do many girls have their mouths open, but like sex dolls
The employee tells the head of the department what you have under your shirt, is it a bulletproof vest? No, it’s just that the previous employee had a knife, yes, you have a gunshot wound, these are previous employees whom I unfairly fired and stole their bonus and salary, you know how difficult it is to find a good employee, this is a wound, I trained on myself, checked my body armor
How does the mafia have fun, what happened to you you kick the burning ball of the severed head of the snitch somehow sad, we will go to hell right? Let's hit, but for now we'll keep kicking the ball while we can
Her fat folds are like a crumpled bed and her old skin is like old crumpled paper.
So the crunch in the chips ad is the crunch of salted bones, people who like chips, crunchy bones like crispy chips
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
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