#what a regrettable incident indeed
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sorry if this ask sent twice!
What's it like when Ash becomes a princess? Is her personality explained by the "loss" she suffered during the carriage accident, or were there always people who suspected that something else must've happened that day?
A mix of a couple factors I think. The original princess who Ash replaced grew up in seclusion for most of her life due to a terminal sickness she'd been born with. She had been called for by the king (who wanted to see if her health had improved. it hadn't) and was on her way when the regrettable incident happened and she died.
When the search party came upon Ash in the wreckage, not enough people had known of the original princess's appearance well to notice if she looked different (the original corpse was burnt beyond recognition and discarded somewhere) and the king was selfishly pleased that the princess' affliction had seemingly been fully healed. Later on, when Ash's sadistic nature became more apparent, people were willing to turn a blind eye because of her royal status. And when war befell them, they were even more willing to excuse her behaviour when she proved herself to be a fearsome asset on the battlefield.
The remaining people who had known of the original princess definitely noticed the changes to her appearance/personality but were too scared to bring it up publically. So instead, rumours began circulating that a monster had been brought back in the princess's place.
Ash, for what it's worth, didn't do much to dissuade these rumours. In her opinion, they were pretty accurate.
#askbox#what a regrettable incident indeed#that poor original princess#not her fault ash liked the look of that crown#not her fault her attendants lashed out in fear at the sight of a black wolf watching them silently#and definitely not her fault that blood seemed to inexplicably get on the wheels of her carriage which then seemed to gain a life of its ow#she died fast. dont worry#red didnt let her suffer
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Delusional Horner is tarnishing the whole sport of Formula One
Red Bull principal is rivalling José Mourinho for gracelessness, Matthew Syed writes.
Lewis Hamilton was robbed. I think we should make that plain at the start of this column. I emphasise this because Christian Horner and Max Verstappen of Red Bull decided to boycott Sky Sports after one of their reporters used this word in relation to the finale of the 2021 season, after a controversial safety car restart in the last moments of the race. Even the FIA, the sport’s governing body, admits that this was a significant error from the race director.
So, permit me to say it again: Hamilton was robbed. If the rules had been correctly applied, he would now have an eighth world title. If the race director had done his job, Mercedes would boast another champion. Horner may now be pondering whether to ban The Times, and perhaps The Sunday Times too, on the basis of this assertion. If so, it won’t be long before Red Bull are avoiding all press outlets, and perhaps all social media too. Because “robbed” is the way most people think about that incident. This doesn’t imply that Hamilton was robbed by Horner or Verstappen — it just means that he was denied what was rightfully his, which is pretty much the textbook definition of the term.
But there’s another aspect to the controversy that has engulfed Formula One over the past few weeks. We now know that Red Bull broke the rules in the amount they spent last season. There is a limit set by the FIA and all teams sign up to remain within this envelope, but one team failed to do so. The amount of the overspend is — according to both the FIA and Red Bull, who accepted the verdict of the governing body — £1.864 million, amounting to 1.6 per cent of the budget, set at £114 million. This may not sound like a lot, but in a sport where margins are measured in factions, it might have been decisive.
So not only did Horner and his team benefit from a poor decision by a steward, in violation of the rules, they were also the beneficiaries of their own breach, albeit — they claim — an inadvertent one. So, let’s go back to Hamilton again: was he robbed? Is the terminology in keeping with what we know about the facts? I think most reasonable people will say “yes”. Indeed, it seems rather delusional to deny this, as Horner has sought to do.
But this isn’t the end of the matter. Zak Brown, the chief executive of McLaren, pointed out that when teams breach their spending limits, it amounts to “cheating”. “The cap is a rule, no different to the technical rules in the sport,” he said. “We feel it’s a performance benefit if someone has spent more than the allocated cost cap.” The word cheating is quite strong in this instance, but many people will agree with it. At the very least, Red Bull’s actions represented the gaining of an unfair advantage. Every other team was carefully audited and stayed within the agreed limits.
Yet Horner was scandalised by this terminology too. He claims that the breach was an oversight and had no performance effect, but this is a curious argument. If you exceed a budget, you presumably benefit from doing so, otherwise what is the point of the cap in the first place? Moreover, when it comes to breaching these (or any other) rules, it is surely important that the miscreants face reputational damage. Horner wants the payment of a fine — $7 million (about £6.07 million), to be exact — and reduction of permitted research to be the end of it, but that is too easy an escape route for a team awash with money. Social stigma is crucial for any rule to have teeth but this is what Horner is unwilling to accept.
And here we move from the regrettable to the surreal. Instead of owning up to his error, Horner has lashed out on those who have dared to criticise him. At a press conference last week, he said that the censure Red Bull has received has undermined his team’s “mental health” and has led to the children of staff being “bullied” in the playground. I had always thought that José Mourinho was the ultimate in gracelessness under pressure (to invert Ernest Hemingway’s quote) but Horner has taken it to a new level. How dare the Red Bull principal deploy sensitive moral issues such as bullying and mental health to deflect from his own rule-breaking.
If there are mental health issues at Red Bull as a result of their rule breach, the responsibility lies with them and them alone; not with those who have criticised them. To say otherwise is an Alice in Wonderland inversion, a gaslighting of those who stayed within budget. Like Mourinho at his worst, Horner is willing to blame everyone else, to distort reality, even to boycott those with whose opinions he disagrees, to sustain the pretence that everything Red Bull does is pure and it is only the ill intent of others that obscures this fact.
And, on the wider point, what of the mental health of the teams who have worked diligently to stay within the agreed budget? What about the drivers whose ambitions have been thwarted by Red Bull’s overspending? What about people with genuine mental health issues whose difficulties have been trivialised by Horner’s self-serving cant?
What makes this worse is that Horner is the first to point the finger at others when things don’t go his way. Remember at Silverstone when he lashed out at Hamilton after the clash with Verstappen, calling the British driver “desperate” and “completely out of order”? Remember when Horner savaged a “rogue marshal” after Verstappen received a grid penalty for failing to respect double yellow flags in qualifying at the Qatar Grand Prix? I could go on.
The older one gets, the more one realises that it is not winning that matters in life, but the way one conducts oneself. Horner may have won both the drivers’ and constructors’ championships this season but in his manner and example, he is tarnishing not only his team but F1, too. You might even — at the risk of a fresh boycott — call him a loser.
BY MATTHEW SYED
#mexican gp 2022#long post#lewis hamilton#u kno what the times recently have really upped their game#in terms of sports shit
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THE STEAMBIRD - 10/17 to 11/7
Note from Charlotte!
Ah!!! Hiya everybody! I’m so, so, so, so, so sorry I’m late. Waaay too late, in fact! It’s been three whole weeks!! I’m so sorry for procrastinating even though this was supposed to be out last week!! There just wasn’t a lot of material for me to work with-
(and irl stuff got in the way, oops)
-and so I ended up just writing these small blurbs instead.
I swear that next week I’ll get back on track to writing the regular issues!! But for now, I’m going to count this as a Steambird ‘special…’
Again I’m super sorry!!
The Duke of Meropide, Wriothesley, reluctantly allowed Charlotte to pay a visit to the Fortress of Meropide to interview a certain Fatui Harbinger (Tartaglia) on the pot brownie scandal. All thanks to the Head Nurse of the Fortress, Sigewinne. Regrettably enough, the Harbinger was not even present at the Fortress, so the interview was thus cancelled.
Clone of Harbinger, Dottore, (clone in question is Webttore), complains about alleged “loudness' ' coming from Il Dottore and another fellow harbinger, Pantalone- the Regrator and 9th Fatui Harbinger. Which yes, indeed implies that the two were being intimate if you catch my drift.
Sandrone, 7th Fatui Harbinger, backs up the claim and Dottore retorts back saying that Sandrone was loud during the night with Arlecchino, founder of the House of the Hearth and 4th Fatui Harbinger, as well.
Does this mean Fatui Harbingers are essentially hooking up with each other?
Maybe.
It depends if Webttore, Dottore, and Sandrone are reliable sources.
Light of Ksharewar’s anon- scary, in particular- was exposed to have a bad sleep schedule despite consistently reprimanding Kaveh for having a bad sleep schedule himself. Kaveh was upset since this was naturally a display of hypocrisy, and Kaveh, alongside his other anon, ᓚᘏᗢ (cat) anon- now more commonly known as “adi cat anon”- chided scary anon.
Scary anon then attempted to flee and hide in Diluc Ragvindr- owner of the Dawn Winery-’s blog, but upon learning about what had happened- via cat anon- also chided the anon, who then left again to try and hide out in the Duke of Meropide’s blog!
Rinse and repeat because cat anon followed after scary anon and informed the Duke, who told them not to hide in general. Thus ending the blog hopping scandal.
Later, scary and Kaveh squabble about sleeping habits (after Kaveh shrugs off the incident, saying it was really all in good fun), and cat anon tells them to BOTH fix their sleeping habits, Kaveh gains two more anons, yellow heart anon- the second parent- and wine anon- the menace. Kaveh also tries to send wine anon to the Fortress of Meropide.
Diluc and UTA are still not beating the allegations.
Pantalone offers a 500k bounty of mora for whoever helps solve his rat infestation(literally all of the rats in question are just Dottore’s clones) regarding his office. When a young girl solves the issue, the bounty ends up being worth triple the original amount.
Webtorre tries to sell a.. Really weird looking skull. 3 rats in a trench coat are down to buy it. ..and also 3 rats in a trench coat tries to give Collei the plague
The Regrator gets robbed. With a lack of a solution or person to blame, naturally everyone just begins to blame each other frantically.
Kaveh confesses to actually being three fungi in a trench coat.
Head Nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, Sigewinne, pastes stickers all over the Fortress of Meropide. Especially in the Duke of Meropide’s office.
Kaeya makes it down Dragonspine safely, or has he? No. No he hasn’t. He lost his vision on the mountain, so now, while Diluc is now taking his brother to the Dawn Winery, Lisa is trying to gather a team to go back up the mountain to look for it.
(Ignoring the Dragonspine RP canon and following Albedo and Diona going to Sumeru.)
Albedo wakes up from a nightmare, and Diona tries to comfort the alchemist.
Dottore(Prime) releases a poll on the crowd’s favorite Dottore. Ask-Dottore ended up winning, but the close second was UTA. Most notably, Madame Faruzan’s bias was UTA, while Diluc said none were likable altogether.
#dottore#genshin#kaeya#albedo#diluc#diluc ragnvindr#genshin impact#fatui harbingers#genshin impact fatui#il dottore#fatui#faruzan#diona#sigewinne#wriothesley#collei#kaveh#sandrone#arlecchino#pantalone#charlotte genshin impact#childe#tartaglia#the steambird
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Not sure if you're aware but tlou was written by a hardcore zionist...I haven't watched it but palestinians online have been saying the show is making them v uncomfortable with the zionist messages encoded in it. Just thought you might wanna know
After a quick Google search it doesn't look accidental.
This article immediately shows up. And a search for TLOU Zionism on Tumblr we see this article pop up over and over.
Here are some key points in the article (the whole thing is good tho and I still definitely left important parts out).
Druckmann drew parallels between The Last of Us and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict again on the official The Last of Us podcast. When discussing the first time Joel kills another man to protect his daughter and the extraordinary measures people will take to protect the ones they love, Druckmann said he follows "a lot of Israeli politics," and compared the incident to Israel's release of hundreds of Palestinians prisoners in exchange for the captured Israeli soldier Gilad Shalit in 2011. He said that his father thought that the exchange was overall bad for Israel, but that his father would release every prisoner in every prison to free his own son.
"That's what this story is about, do the ends justify the means, and it's so much about perspective. If it was to save a strange kid maybe Joel would have made a very different decision, but when it was his tribe, his daughter, there was no question about what he was going to do," Druckmann said.
[...]A "cycle of violence" is a tempting way to interpret this conflict, or any conflict, because it signals careful nuance while quietly squashing more difficult conversations. By suggesting that since both Wolves and Scars are equally implicated and equally in pain, we are free to stop thinking about the problem. All parties include both good and bad actors. We're all human. Both sides.
This common, centrist position on violent conflict, while better than absolute dehumanization, is not coincidentally a world view that allows conflicts to drag on forever. Suggesting moral equivalence and a symmetry in ability between sides also invites us to throw up our hands and give up on better solutions because of implied and unexamined perceptions about "human nature." Indeed, the game is unrelentingly cynical, and this cynicism animates most of the 30-odd hour experience. Whereas Abby and Ellie find interpersonal resolution at the end, the game seems content to leave the question of community-scale cycles of violence as a regrettable fact of human existence. Even if the Wolves and Scars meet their mutual end, the game leaves us with the knowledge that a resistance group from the first game, the Fireflies, and other groups, are regrouping and gaining strength. The cycle continues.
[...]But "cycles of violence" are a poor way to understand a conflict in a meaningful way, especially if one is interested in finding a solution. The United States, for example, hasn't been at war in Afghanistan for almost 20 years because it's trapped in a "cycle of violence" with the Taliban. It is deliberately choosing to engage with a problem in a way that perpetuates a conflict. Just as the fantasy of escaping violence by simply walking away from it is one that only those with the means to do so can entertain, the myth of the "cycle of violence" is one that benefits the side that can survive the status quo.
In The Last of Us Part II's Seattle, Scars and Wolves hurt each other terribly, and the same can be said about Israel and Palestine. The difference is that when flashes of violence abate and the smoke clears, one side continues to live freely and prosper, while the other goes back to a life of occupation and humiliation. One side continues to expand while the other continues to lose the land it needs to live. Imagining this process as some kind of symmetric cycle benefits one side more than the other, and allows it to continue.
[...]The Last of Us Part II is an incredible journey that provides not only one of the most mesmerizing spectacles that we've seen from big budget video games, but one that manages to ask difficult questions along the way. It's clearly coming from an emotionally authentic and self-examining place. The trouble with it, and the reason that Ellie's journey ultimately feels nonsensical, is that it begins from a place that accepts "intense hate that is universal" as a fact of life, rather than examining where and why this behavior is learned.
Critically, by not asking these questions, and by masking its point of view as being evenhanded, it perpetuates the very cycles of violence it's supposedly so troubled by.
I think is a very good criticism and I'll say that even giving characters "good" reasons to carry on with their very hateful goals seems doubly malicious in that context.
Like I could type out a long response justifying specifying character actions by saying "oh it's trauma" or "loyalty" or something but like the article says none of those reasons are really good enough when you look at the scale of conflict or what's it's actually a commentary on.
The logic Druckmann uses also dehumanizes the characters themselves in a way that removes their free will. Their trauma happened, it shaped them, and now everything else is just a domino effect of that. Everyone is a victim of unavoidable sets of circumstance. Circumstance made them who they are, they didn't have a choice in the people they got to be. Which means they have no choice in their actions.
Predeterminsm. And that may be literally true as a player of the game or watcher of the show since we cant change the course of those things or the characters themselves.
But real life doesn't lock us into stories or dialogue or behaviors that we can't walk away from. Ever. Even people "just doing my job" have a choice to lie down their guns in real life.
....within this context I feel like, if nothing else, the game serves purpose as a litmus test. It puts you through an emotional roller coaster fraught with bad intentions, awful deeds, and selfish acts and then it asks you: Was it worth it? Was it just a game? Would you do the same?
And what does that say about the kind of person who says yes?
It says you easily fall for genocidal and fascist propaganda, for starters. And who says you haven't already fallen for it if you're already sympathetic to Joel or Ellie's unjustifiable homicidal behaviors.
Because they are unjustifiable. Most people eat too much, depend on friends/family, or go to therapy when they're suffering a loss. They don't go on elaborate murder sprees. That's not the behavior or reaction of a person who's emotionally sound at all.
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With the conclusion of the dinner, the families gracefully dispersed, forming small groups to engage in leisurely conversations and socialize. Helena and Edith sought a quiet corner near the far wall, where they could converse without interruption. Meanwhile, Daniel and Edward found themselves engrossed in a discussion by the furniture on the opposite side of the room.
Rosella, momentarily drawn away, found herself near the archway, engaged in conversation with the inquisitive Silas. Their tête-à-tête appeared to be brimming with curiosity and intellectual musings.
Meanwhile, on the front porch, away from the watchful gaze of the adults, Lucile and Jackson found solace in each other's company.
With a warm and gentle chuckle, Helena expressed her delight, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "I truly am overjoyed to have you here, dear Edith. I understand that you likely had other plans, but your presence has added such a wonderful touch to our gathering."
Edith nodded in agreement, her expression reflecting a sense of contentment.
"It is indeed a pleasure to be here, Helena," Edith replied, her voice filled with sincerity. "Given the demands of Daniel's work, particularly with the ongoing construction of the railway, our plans to travel and visit family had to be set aside this year. But being able to share this holiday with cherished friends such as yourself and your lovely family is a true blessing. Besides, it gives Daniel a well-deserved respite from his study and the arduous labor he undertakes. He is a diligent worker, and I believe moments like these provide him the much-needed rejuvenation he requires."
Both women shared a knowing glance, acknowledging the dedication and hard work their husbands exhibited.
Helena's voice carried a hint of concern as she delicately broached the subject. "Please pardon my curiosity, dear Edith, but I couldn't help but notice the absence of Josephine. Is she feeling unwell? If so, I would be more than happy to prepare a special dish for her to enjoy later."
Edith's gaze momentarily faltered, her eyes cast downward as she contemplated her response. However, she quickly regained her composure, meeting Helena's eyes with a gracious smile. "Do not fret, my dear friend. Josephine is in good health. It seems that she is simply in need of additional guidance in embracing the ways of a refined lady. Daniel has taken it upon himself to ensure she receives the utmost attention and instruction in this regard."
Edith maintained her strained smile, her concern was evident in her voice. "Josephine possesses a kind heart, but discipline and grace seem to elude her. She departed in search of self-improvement, and we eagerly await her return, rejuvenated and refined."
Helena empathetically nodded, understanding the weight of Edith's worries.
In a lowered voice, Edith leaned closer to Helena,"May I share a private matter with you, dear Helena?" she inquired, her tone hushed yet earnest. Helena, reciprocating the trust, responded in a gentle whisper, "Certainly, Edith, you may confide in me."
Edith's words carried a sense of trepidation as she revealed her concerns. "I cannot help but fret over Josephine's future upon her return. A regrettable incident occurred in the presence of Daniel's esteemed employers, and now I am uncertain of what lies ahead for our dear girl."
Offering reassurance, Helena placed a comforting hand on Edith's arm. Her voice was soft and soothing. "Do not despair, Edith. Josephine possesses beauty, and I have faith that Daniel will navigate her toward a path that will prove beneficial, even if she may not yet see it herself. "
Edith's smile blossomed, reflecting her renewed optimism. "You speak the truth, dear Helena. We shall endeavor to find a suitable path for Josephine's future. There is no need for me to harbor unnecessary worries."
#doyle legacy#ts4#decades challenge#decade challenge#decades legacy#ts4 historical#helena doyle#edith coombes#decade story#historical legacy#legacy story#decade: 1890s#decade: 1890#party event
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Dear Gerudo Chieftain Nabooru,
I trust that this letter finds you in health and, despite the somber nature of its contents, it is my sincere hope that it reaches you in the spirit of open dialogue and mutual understanding.
I wish to extend my gratitude for the most recent discourse that you've engaged in with our esteemed Zelda. Your concerns regarding the intricate relationship between your great desert and our country of Hyrule itself have not gone unheard. Please know that Zelda, in her impending re-ascension to the throne, has been diligently occupied with the monumental task of rebuilding our beloved country and all of there political relationships. As such, certain matters have regrettably been placed on hold, but I assure you, the welfare of the Gerudo people have remained among some of our highest concerns. We know that life is not easy out there in the desert and we commend your strength and resourcefulness, even during these chaotic times.
Our prospective queen, in her wisdom and benevolence, personally assured you that our two kingdoms would henceforth be treated as equals, and that those hailing from your western desert would no longer suffer unfounded persecution. While her intentions were unquestionably noble, it is with a heavy heart that I must bring to light certain practicalities.
In her prolonged absence from court and from presiding over any royal proceedings for over seven long years, Zelda's standing amongst her ministers, council members and other courtiers, has dwindled to nearly nothing. She does not help herself with her current disregard for established protocols, nor does win herself any favors with her unfamiliarity with the nuances of the court. Her ignorance has greatly hindered her ability to exact the respect that is her due as her birthright: Princess of Hyrule.
Regrettably, this internal predicament within Hyrule's royal court has cast a pall over the promises that were made by our beloved Zelda. I must emphasize that any commitments made by her, whether private or public, currently do not posses official or legal standing at this juncture.
I understand that you recently conveyed your distress concerning the treatment of criminals within Hyrule, particularly focusing on the unfortunate Gerudo conspirator who tragically perished in our dungeons while awaiting trial. It pains me deeply to relate that the accusations against her, implicating her in conspiracies linked to the King of Evil hold a great deal of veracity. However, I know that you have a limited view of the evidence against her, and while I cannot delve into the particulars, know that I understand why you carry doubt. What I can say is that the tragic death of this individual due to self-imposed starvation was indeed a sorrowful event, and we extend our condolences. The circumstances leading to this grievous outcome are under review, and we mourn the loss of any life regardless of their transgressions.
You had also made comment on another unfortunate incident involving the demise of Gerudo prisoner due to infection. Please rest assured that the hygiene and living conditions within our cells are of paramount concern. We hold ourselves to a high standard in this regard and are committed to the welfare of our prisoners, ensuring that they receive the appropriate care when unwell. It has been determined by our coroners that she had been sick long before she was in our custody -- she had likely contracted that infection before she came to Hyrule. It is important that you understand that we did our best to treat her illness while she was in our custody. We would never purposefully neglect the health needs of our prisoners.
I cannot deny that you raised pertinent concerns regarding a trio of Gerudo thieves. I acknowledge the complexity of the matter, and it is essential that you know that we understand these three individuals operated independently from you and your Gerudo sisters. Their actions are substantiated by evidence and eyewitness accounts. While their crimes involved food theft, it is imperative to differentiate between chronic larceny and a broader issue of discrimination. These three individuals were part of a network that has pilfered from Hyrule's food suppliers, bakeries, produce farms, restaurants and even individual food storages for an extended period. The matter is alas, far more intricate than it may seem at first glance...
With the upcoming coronation ceremony swiftly approaching, I wish to extend a heartfelt invitation for your presence. This not only affords you the opportunity to partake in the joyous occasion as one of Hyrule's esteemed allies, but also provides a platform for a face-to-face discussion on the promises made by our prospective queen. I earnestly hope that this personal interaction will illuminate the details and clarify any misunderstandings.
In closing, let me reiterate our commitment to fostering a robust and enduring relationship with the Gerudo. We value your friendship and wish to strengthen the bond between our kingdoms as we work together to shed that heavy shadow that once weighed upon our shared friendhship!
Yours sincerely,
A Panicked
A Concerned Court Minister
Nabooru praised her busy schedule that allowed her to avoid the neatly folded parchment on her desk, kissed with the wax seal of Hyrule's Royal Family. If she could cut the desert along their borders and rip it away from the rest of Hyrule, placing a yawning chasm between her and the difficult dignitaries that wanted nothing to do with their future queen's vision of true unity that actually included the Gerudo. They continued their same song and dance of tiptoeing around addressing the needs of her people and, at best, begrudgingly respecting their sovereignty as Nabooru demanded from the start. They wanted to maintain the total control they possessed before their King's fall, and they would skirt around the fair princess in any way they could to ensure she was none the wiser.
When she returned to her study, the moon hung high over the night-cooled desert and exhaustion, physical and mental, drew her to her seat to rest her aching feet and muscles. But not her mind. She still had that letter to tend to. Sighing, slender fingers lifted parchment from wood and broke the seal. Half-hooded, gold eyes scanned the words, occasionally rereading lines when she failed to process them.
Such lethargy did not last long, the contents shifting her to the edge of her seat and spiking her adrenaline with each line she read. Certain words jumped out at her, taunting, belittling and condescending: Regrettably. Unfounded persecution. Promises with no official or legal standing. Limited view. Self-imposed starvation. Our condolences. We mourn. We did our best. Food theft. Chronic larceny. Discrimination. Esteemed allies. Misunderstandings. We value your friendship. Bond.
Our condolences.
Our condolences.
Our condolences.
The room--no, her body--felt too hot. Torch flames around the room grew and guttered violently. Her focus lapsed, the only thing on her mind were the Gerudo that died on her watch. Pitifully. Without honor or respect. Rotting in cells in the dungeons, and how these pathetic excuses of leaders conveniently failed to alert her or her tribe of the matter until they perished. Of their own accord. Of infection sustained prior to their arrest. And what of the other three? She could only assume they killed them, too, without a trial. In the most degrading way they could think of.
This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to let this happen any more. She couldn't let it happen again. She--
The opposing corner of the letter from where her thumb and forefinger blackened and crumbled, slowly encroaching on the rest of the parchment. A second later, white-hot flames engulfed the rest of the parchment, obliterating the slanting text. The false concern and care for her people or those they murdered for any tiny infraction they could scoop them up for.
The sudden ball of fire caused Nabooru to gasp and drop the page back on her desk like it burned her, even though it had not. She scrambled to grab the pitcher of water from the corner of her desk, nearly dropping it in her haste. She threw the water on the flames, dousing them, leaving a smoldering, black smudge in its place.
The light in the room shifted back to normal, the crackle of the flames punctuating the chieftain's near-panicked breaths. Her eyes wide, she cradled her hands close to her chest. She swallowed, blinking slow. When she regained herself, she extinguished the torches and sped out of the room, refusing to look back.
#[ ☀ ᶜᵘʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ᵐⁱⁿᵈˢ ;; ᵃˢᵏ ]#[ ☀ ⁱ ᵃᵐ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ʷᵃʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒᵐᵃⁿ ;; ⁱᶜ ]#[ ☀ ᵃⁿᵒⁿʸᵐᵒᵘˢ ;; ʰⁱᵈᵈᵉⁿ ᵇᵉʰⁱⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵃˢᵏ ]#i wanted to be more dramatic about daddy's powers comign in but#but i also didn't wnat her to explode the fortress lol
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a risky kiss between forbidden lovers (for Mischa and Beth)
I Ask No More Than This || Accepting
The rules of Elysium are strict, he tells her before allowing her into the car that he's hired for the evening. The Masquerade must be kept at all costs when mortals are around, something he promises she doesn't know, and if it looks like she does, he will regrettably have to make it so. She is both radiant, sparkling like a jewel hung before him as she meets his gaze, and eager to please, nodding just so that the faint glitter on her skin catches the streetlight's glare and refracts the light.
His little sprite, indeed.
They go over other bits of rules and regulations ~she can't help giggle at the formality of it all, and then more soberly compare it to many of the military functions she's been subjected to~ while she curls up at his side, occasionally tracing patterns against the pale flesh of his cool hand. She agrees to abide by every one, questions why others exist or what a particular word or phrase means. There are certain things though that Mischa cannot share about his nocturnal world. He softens the rejection by bringing up the scandal of her turning up at one of her neutral places with him on her slender arm.
When he kisses her inner wrist, it hardly seems to matter at all.
The night proceeds to go well. She makes him smile more than once over an observation here or comment there. He never confirms or denies which of the gathered are his kind and which are not. She promises either way she isn't cheating. And she isn't. It would be unsportsmanlike.
Toward the end of the evening though, when he's glutted on gossip and pageantry and watching others try and curry favour ~she did pick out the Prince as one of the most fascinating people here before the entire retinue retired~ there's an incident that thankfully had nothing to do with her. Unfortunately, she won't remember a single detail later.
What stays with her is when he bears his teeth on full display to the offending leeches. One dangles from his hand, feet unable to touch the floor.
"If you cannot even control yourself on Elysium grounds, then it was a mistake to release you from your Sire. You are no longer recognised by the Primogen Council as a Kindred and you will need to seek a sponsor to teach you our laws and ways again until you earn the right to be seen!"
Mischa is utterly stunning in his wrath...
...And he barely makes it out the door before she's taking hold of him and pressing him into the brick and shadows that adorn the salon's edifice. She is half afraid he'll turn to ash from the heat of her skin as her lips find his throat and she leaves deep kisses that would mark for weeks if he were human. His hand grasps her chin, raises his face so his lips crush into hers. Each kiss becomes hungrier than the last and his head dips into the space between her jaw and her shoulder, his fangs caressing the pulse of life so strong it drowns the echoing bass from the music inside.
His arms slide under hers and around her back when her knees weaken and she finds herself in the very same spot he'd been a moment ago. Her thighs clamp around his knee. Nothing that's never quite happened before, just not nearly so public.
At least until there's the sharpest pang that sweeps through him, and she draws a drop or two of turbid blood into her mouth, despite all his prior laments of how that could not be...
#thebiggestlies#Left the Belltower|Mikhail Alkavich#White Translucent Black|Mischa and Beth#Mists at Midnight|Vampire the Masquerade#Latchkey Saints|Mage the Ascension#Brooklyn Stories|New York#blood tw#Mischa tw#Dubious consent?#{{She is NOT sorry}}
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Sakugan 削岩ラビリンスマーカー
Plot: The "Labyrinth" is an expansive space deep underground where humans live in clusters known as "colonies." Over the years, the surface has become a distant memory—even perhaps only a fantasy to those who have never experienced its wonders.
Making sure humanity survives the harsh conditions of the underground, a colony's citizens can take on a variety of specialized jobs. These include "Workers," who mine precious ore to fuel the colonies, and "Markers," who journey into the Labyrinth's surprisingly lush environment to bring back information that eases navigation. However, humanity also faces a threat to its existence—creatures called "kaijuu" whose sizes range from that of a small child to an enormous building, and are hostile to any human they see. Moreover, kaijuu that are large enough can force their way into the colonies, further increasing their threat level.
Memenpu is a nine-year-old college graduate whose inventions have greatly benefitted the Workers in her local colony. Recently, however, she has been dreaming of a place with a neverending ceiling not bound by bedrock. These aspirations fuel her desire to become a Marker and explore the Labyrinth's vast unknown in search of such a fantastical place. Despite her father Gagumber's vehement disagreement, a certain incident with the kaijuu jumpstarts a dangerous yet exciting adventure that will surely alter humanity's course forever. [Written by MAL Rewrite]
Episodes: 12
Main Characters:
Memenou
Gagumber
Yuri
Zackletu
Points: 8/10 [7,90625]
Sakugan was indeed one of the animes I enjoyed the most this Fall Season 2021, although I know it has many faults, but… it just clicked for me. I can’t exactly tell you why, but I can at least try to share my thoughts on the anime and why I enjoyed it as much as I did.
The story was quite cryptic and in these 12 episodes we did not truly receive an explanation on why people seemingly live in parts of a labyrinth, in different sorts of colonies, while “markers” seem to explore the labyrinth further. This was mostly hinted at since the actual plot revolves entirely around a father, named Gagumber, and his daughter Memenpu. They’re a bunch of idiots, but from the very first moment it is clear how much they care for one another although they’re entirely different from one another.
Maybe it was simply the father-daughter dynamic that made it work through a bunch of scattered unfocused 12 episodes which are more explanatory on the setting, rather than telling us what Sakugan (Sacks&Guns) is truly about. While that was disappointing, I couldn’t help enjoying the fact, that although Gagaumber and Mememnpu were never on the same page, both always went the extra step to find some sort of compromise, simply because they care too much, especially Gagumber.
Memenpu is a logical smart young girl, who can repair pretty much everything. She’s a genius. She has dedicated herself to finding a place that she’s seen in her dreams and that seems to hold some sort of backstory on her and Gagumber, but sadly nothing of that is being revealed in the first 12 episodes and given the mediocre reviews, it might not even receive a second season and since the light novel is pretty much unknown, I might never get to see what Sakugan has in store, regrettably.
Gagumber mostly has his hands full trying to protect her, but if he’s not too busy, you can find him drinking and flirting. Yeah, he’s not a good father, but he is also very much aware of it. Slowly but surely he redeems himself throughout the story. Memenpu is just so much more important to him and it’s perhaps this chaos couple that made the chemistry work. Yeah, he makes a ton of bad decisions, but his character development is splendid.
I also just grew to like how weird the entire story is, also the few side characters: Yuri and Zackletu. There are many comedic moments, but issues always get resolved and despite their clashing pasts, they work together and go on to find the place Memenpu wants to see.
I honestly just want more of Sakugan. I know the story line is scattered and unfocused, some characters seem like true idiots and nothing gets even halfway resolved plot-wise, but I enjoyed my time with Sakugan.
Enjoyment wise it couldn’t hold a candle to Mieruko-chan which I enjoyed immensely this season, but it is definitely within my top 5. Please have an open mind when you pick up Sakugan. Every episode is almost stand alone-ish, but the end makes up for the slow pace in the beginning.
The anime doesn’t deserve the bad ratings when other shows were much worse but get recognition for titties and waifus.
Artwork/Design/Animation - 7
Story/Characters - 7,5
Enjoyment - 8,5
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Minerva isn't sure she can protect Remus Lupin any longer now a student has been injured the night of the full moon. Especially when Walburga Black is demanding repercussions for her son, after what was clearly a Werewolf attack. Sirius Black, however, tells a very different story.
Lupine Lawlessness
“This is outrageous!” Walburga Black immediately rounds on Minerva the moment the woman strides into the Hospital Wing, her voluminous robes billowing behind her.
Minerva notices Mrs Black barely spares her injured son in the bed a glance. She also notices how the boy slightly shrinks in on himself as he hears her voice. Then, Mrs Black is standing in front of her, and all her attention is directed at being on the receiving end of Walburga Black’s fury.
“I knew you and that old fool would be the ruin of this school. It’s one thing that the place is infested with Halfbloods and Mudbloods, but harbouring a Dark Creature?”
“Mrs Black,” Minerva says politely. “I understand this must be very distressing for you as a mother, and I’m very sorry indeed, but we are yet to establish what happened.”
“Do you take me for a fool?” Mrs Black spits. “That type of claw marks, on which Healing Magic has no effect, while yesterday was a full moon? It’s very clear what has attacked him, and that thing had no business being on school grounds.”
Minerva herself has put two and two together as well. It was easier for her, as she’s aware there’s a student infected with Lycanthropy attending Hogwarts. A student who also happens to have been a close friend of Sirius Black.
Oh, she had really thought they were going to pull it off. They had come so far. She had been sceptical at first. A Lycanthrope attending seven years of Hogwarts without any incidents, without anyone finding out? It appeared unlikely, but she had agreed to try. And then she met Remus Lupin, and she had been very glad she did so. The boy was sweet, modest, hardworking and clever, and he deserved to have a proper education, but also to be around peers, make friends, and have fun. Now, when she had really started to believe it was going to be alright, the worst had happened. A student had been attacked.
It’s not difficult to reason out what must’ve happened. Sirius Black must’ve seen his friend disappear into the tunnel below the Whomping Willow, and had decided to go after him, only to end up face-to-face with a full-grown werewolf.
Minerva’s first reaction had been relief. Relief that Sirius Black was going to be okay. Some nasty injuries that would leave some nasty scars, but no permanent damage, which is quite a miracle. It could’ve been much, much worse.
But relief had quickly been replaced with worry. While the headmaster and herself can get in serious trouble for allowing a Lycanthrope in the vicinity of children, her worry was mostly for Remus Lupin. The world is unfairly cruel to Lycanthropes. Graduated from Hogwarts, with his formidable grades and excellent recommendations from his teachers, the boy would’ve at least had a chance, but being expelled from Hogwarts... His only option might be The Werewolf Camps in the mountains, where Lycanthropes go if they have nowhere else to go, which, regrettably, is often. Stories about those camps make your stomach churn, and it’s not a place for a boy like Remus Lupin to be.
Sirius Black must surely know it was Remus Lupin who did this, and he has every right to be angry. School is supposed to be a safe place, not a place where an unsuspecting student can suddenly be mauled by a Werewolf. Minerva doesn’t know if, or how, she can protect Remus Lupin from the consequences.
“The House of Black is a highly esteemed family,” Mrs Black goes on. “A Black being attacked by such an inferior creature without any repercussions would be an insult to our family name. It’s already a great show of disrespect that you even allowed this to happen, and we do not tolerate disrespect.”
“I truly regret the situation,” Minerva says, hoping to sooth the other woman. “At Hogwarts, any student should be safe from any kind of danger-”
“But this was not just any student or any kind of danger,” Mrs Black interrupts. “This was the Noble Blood of Black being spilled by a filthy monster that should be removed from society!”
“Really, Mrs Black, we are yet to determine-”
Once again, Minerva is interrupted, this time by the arrival of a man.
“Lady Black, my apologies for my tardiness, but I came as you requested,” he says, ignoring Minerva in favour of focusing all his attention on Mrs Black. The man is short, with sharp eyes and a pointy face, and he looks at Mrs Black with reverence.
Mrs Black scoffs. “Quit wasting time then and get to work.”
The man starts opening his briefcase, taking out a quill and parchment.
“What is the meaning of this?” Minerva demands. “Who are you? What business do you have here?”
“Mr Hesner is from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” Mrs Black replies. “And he’s here at my request to make a report of the situation.”
The colour drains from Minerva’s face. Being expelled is bad, but nothing compared to an official Ministry report. If a Lycanthrope is reported to have somehow been involved in an attack on a witch or wizard, the Lycanthrope will get the annotation ‘Feral’ in the Registry. All hopes of ever finding a job or a place to live will be lost. The Lycanthrope will have to report at the Ministry at frequent and irregular times, and any failure to report will lead to the Lycanthrope immediately being locked away. The Lycanthrope will be out on the streets without any money or prospects, and even the smallest transgression will lead to being locked up. Almost every Lycanthrope with the ‘Feral’ annotation will be either locked up, or forced to flee to the mountains within a year. Remus Lupin certainly does not deserve such a fate.
“Is... is that really necessary?” Minerva asks.
“Very necessary indeed,” Mr Hesner replies. “If you had any sense of morality, you would’ve contacted us yourself, Ms McGonagall. Luckily, we could count on Mrs Black to do the right thing,” he says, with a grovelling smile in her direction.
“Can you imagine if that beast would’ve bitten him?” Mrs Black shudders. “What a stain on the family tree that would’ve been, to have a Lycanthrope in the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black!”
To make sure no one will make the mistake of confusing her fear for shame on the Black family name with fear for her son’s well-being, she doesn’t mention that her son might not have survived the bite, or that he would’ve had to live with an extremely painful, chronic condition for the rest of his life. She probably would’ve burnt the boy off the family tree herself, and sent him to go live in the mountains.
“That would’ve been such a waste,” Mr Hesner agrees, before turning to Sirius Black. “Well, young Mr Black, I need an official statement containing your description of the events.”
Sirius Black looks thoughtful for a moment. “I was... attacked. By some kind of creature.”
“Describe the attack please,” Mr Hesner instructs without looking up from his parchment, quill at the ready.
“Oh, the creature was... round.” Mr Hesner’s eyes snap up, but Sirius Black continues. “Like pumpkin-shaped. But huge. Like a huge pumpkin. Only covered in bright yellow feathers. With bulging eyes in between. And two glittering horns on top of its head.”
“You’re treating this like some kind of a joke!” Mr Hesner says accusingly, pointing his quill in Sirius Black’s direction.
“Why, sir,” Sirius Black says, pretending to be shocked. “I protest. I would never!”
“If you can’t be serious...” Mr Hesner says, gritting his teeth.
Sirius Black blinks innocently at him. “Ask anyone, Mr Hesner, and I’m sure they’ll all tell you that I’m always Sirius.”
“I’ve dealt with Magical Creatures for longer than you have lived, boy,” Mr Hesner spits. “And I know such a creature as you described does not exist.”
Sirius Black shrugs. “Who knows what creatures the Forbidden Forest hides?”
“Did the attack meddle with his brain?” Mrs Black demands.
Minerva shakes her head. “Madam Pomfrey has assured me that his mental state is unaltered.”
“So I have to believe he was attacked by a horned ball of yellow feathers?” Mrs Black snarls.
“Who knows what creatures the Forbidden Forrest hides?” Minerva repeats Sirius Black’s exact words. Sirius Black gives her a pleased smile, which she gladly returns.
Mrs Black, on the other hand, gives her a nasty glare, and then switches her attention to Mr Hesner, who shrinks in on himself. “His chest is covered in Werewolf marks the day after a full moon. It’s obvious what happened even without his statement.”
Mr Hesner gulps. “I... I’m sorry, lady Black. I’m not allowed to report an attack without an official statement from the victim. I mean, only if the victim had died I could’ve...” He trails off.
Mrs Black now directs her glare at her son, like she regrets the last isn’t the case. “I’ll make you pay for this.”
Sirius Black becomes even more pale, but he continues to defiantly meet his mother’s gaze.
“I do not tolerate anyone threatening my students,” Minerva speaks.
Mrs Black turns her head to her. “He’s my son. I can do whatever I want when it concerns him.”
Minerva takes a step forward. Her eyes are like stone and her voice is like ice. “Not in my school.”
To her great satisfaction, Mrs Black takes a step back and swallow. She quickly recovers though, and pulls her cloak tighter around herself. She gives Sirius Black a quick glance and hisses “I’ll see you this summer,” before walking out of the room in quick strides, Mr Hesner having to dribble to keep up, her robes billowing behind her in that way only purebloods ever seem to manage.
“Are you quite done?”
Minerva turns around to see Poppy standing behind her, her arms crossed over her chest. “Really, you don’t have to be a professional to know that a recovering patient needs rest, not all this uproar and noise. That goes for you too, Minerva. You might run this school after Albus, but I run the Hospital Wing. Now leave. My patient needs to sleep.”
A few days later, Minerva makes her way over to the Hospital Wing. Sirius Black has had some days to recover, and luckily, his recovery is going well. She hopes he has also been able to process everything that happened.
A difficult conversation still needs to be had.
She’s immensely glad Sirius Black hadn’t wanted to report Remus Lupin at the Ministry, but still, he could’ve been killed, and she can’t imagine he’ll be okay with there being no repercussions at all. She thinks she might be able to talk him out of demanding Remus Lupin to be expelled, and in the best case scenario, she can convince him to keep it quiet.
It’s not that she thinks Sirius Black is in any way cruel or anything like his family, not at all. She has a very high opinion of the boy. It’s just that Lycanthropy prejudice is very strong throughout the Wizarding World. Even the best person has some negative thoughts regarding Werewolves. The sentiment is especially strong among the pureblood community, and Sirius was raised with their norms and values. Regardless, she can’t imagine anyone would be okay with finding out a person they thought they knew is a Lycanthrope. Remus Lupin will definitely have to move out of the boys’ dormitory, maybe even to a private room. No one would be willing to keep sharing a dorm with someone that tried to kill them. Maybe she can-
Minerva stops in her tracks as she reaches the Hospital Wing, all thoughts of appeasing Sirius Black disappearing from her head.
Sirius Black isn’t alone. Remus Lupin is with him. Like actually with him on the bed. Remus Lupin is curled up at Sirius Black’s side, his hands gripping Sirius Black’s robes and his head resting on Sirius Black’s chest. Sirius Black has one arm firmly wrapped around Remus Lupin, and with his other hand he’s gently threading his fingers through Remus Lupin’s hair. The boys haven’t noticed her presence.
“I am so, so, so sorry,” Remus says, and probably not for the first time.
Sirius rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I did it.”
“You can’t control it.”
“I could’ve stayed away from you,” Remus argues. “I can control that. A filthy monster that should be removed from society.”
Sirius huffs. “That’s just a bunch of pureblood bollocks only stuck-up twats with half a brain still living in the Middle Ages actually believe.”
“Your mother thinks so.”
“I rest my case.”
Remus chuckles and presses his face closer to Sirius’ chest. “I can barely believe you’re real. I don’t deserve you.”
“Moony,” Sirius says with a sigh. “I told you, The Wolf wasn’t even trying to hurt The Dog. You weren’t feral! The Wolf wanted to play, and didn’t know his own strength, and kind of forgot dogs aren’t as strong as Werewolves. Even transformed, you never meant to hurt me.”
The Dog? An absurd thought enters Minerva’s mind, a thought that surely sheds a different light on what may have happened. Absurd for sure, but also... plausible? And if anyone can do it...
No. Minerva firmly pushes the thought away. It might be true, or it might not be. Either way, she doesn’t need to know. After all, what you don’t know, you can’t report to The Ministry.
“And even if The Wolf fancied himself some Padfoot for breakfast,” Sirius continues. “I still wouldn’t have blamed you. It’s not you.”
“You’re going to have a scars for the rest of your life,” Remus murmurs against Sirius’ chest.
Sirius gently tilts his head up. “Then it’s a good thing I think scars are sexy,” he says with a wink, making Minerva wonder whether it might be more than just close friendship she’s looking at.
A faint blush spreads across Remus’ cheeks, and he slightly shakes his head. “You can’t accept my apologies that easily.”
“Oh no, Moony. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Sirius says, tapping his finger fondly against Remus’ nose, which again makes Minerva question their level of intimacy. “I have, in fact, not accepted your apologies, as I refuse to accept an apology for something someone could’ve done nothing about.”
Remus scrunches up his nose. “You’re stubborn as a mule.”
Sirius chuckles. “I could teach mules in stubbornness. But if you insist on making it up to me, I suppose you can help me win the bet.”
“The bet?”
“I’ve made a bet with Prongs that I can make at least half of the Gryffindors believe I was attacked by a pumpkin-shaped yellow feather ball, while Prongs says I won’t even make ten.”
Remus shakes his head. “You’re an idiot,” he says, though it sounds fond.
Sirius grins. “But you love me.”
Remus leans forward and presses a kiss against Sirius’ lips, making Minerva blink, but confirming her doubt. There must be something more between those boys for sure.
Remus pulls back, but gently rests his forehead against Sirius’. “Merlin, I do love you, Sirius Black.”
“I love you too, Remus Lupin.”
Minerva smiles to herself. There’s no need to worry after all. If one thing is stronger than prejudice, it’s love.
#my tumblr writing#wolfstar#wolfstar fanfiction#wolfstar fic#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#marauders era#sirius black#remus lupin#remus x sirius#minerva mcgonagall#hurt sirius black#lycanthropy#werewolf
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The BNHA Season 4 BluRay/DVD Vol. 1-6 Box Set comes with a special bonus light novel called the "Cultural Festival Wrap-Up Party" about Class A's after-party they had the day after the Cultural Festival, written by Anri-sensei. Here's the summary! Enjoy~
Boku No Hero Academia Cultural Festival Wrap Up Party
The story starts off with All Might greeting Aizawa as he enters the faculty office, a day after the Cultural Festival. He says good work to Aizawa and asks how the clean-up went for the Cultural Festival. Aizawa says that everything has been put away properly and recalls how it was a bit of a risky Cultural Festival this year with the whole fiasco that almost caused them to stop the festival, referring to the incident with Gentle and La Brava.
Aizawa mentions that the students are now preparing for an after-party. He says, “too bad they can’t put this amount of effort that they did in the Cultural Festival towards their studies instead,” and All Might laughs and says, “Well, they’re still just kids after all.” He also tells All Might that a little while ago, Sero stopped by the office to ask him something. Aizawa says, “What?” and All Might explains, “Well…you see…”
Next scene is at a nearby discount variety store (**note: basically a Don Quihote department store in Japan that sells a variety of things including food at really cheap prices). The Class A band team, consisting of Jirou, Kaminari, Bakugou, Yaoyorozu, and Tokoyami, are buying snacks and drinks for the after-party. However, Jirou seems to be the only one who’s actually taking this seriously as she can’t find where everyone else ran off to. She bumps into Yaoyorozu, who excitedly says, “Jirou-san, look at these super cheap drinks! They’re only 10yen each! If we buy 20 of them that’s only 200yen!”
Jirou looks at the bottles and notices that they’re only on sale because the drinks had already expired. She tells Yaoyorozu to put away the items. She then continues to search for the other band members and finds Kaminari. He tells her that he wants to add these cool snacks into their pile of food, which come with bonus cards or toys. He says, “Look at these! Doesn’t it take you back? Man, when I was a kid I used to collect these all the time!”
Jirou looks at the items and says “put it back,” and Kaminari whines but does so anyway. Yaoyorozu keeps getting distracted by all the things in the store since she’s very rich, she seldom has the opportunity to visit these discount stores that people go to. Jirou finds Tokoyami, and Dark Shadow dumps a whole bunch of sweets into their shopping cart. Jirou says that they don’t need that many sweets and to put things back. Tokoyami then gives Jirou a snack with packaging that says “The Witch of Darkness’ Apple Pie.” Dark Shadow says, “Fumikage used to love these sweets when he was younger!” and Tokoyami gets flustered. Jirou then pats Dark Shadow on his head, and Bakugou comes up behind her.
He says, “What the hell are you guys even buying!?”
Kaminari cries out, “Whattya mean!?”
Bakugou says, “If we’re gonna eat this at the after-party, then we need several big bags of food! And why the hell am I even here shopping with you guys right now!? This is so annoying!”
As he says that, he fills the shopping cart with bags of potato chips, sweets, paper plates, and trash bags. Jirou sighs in relief and says, “Yeah! I was thinking of getting paper plates too so clean-up would be easier!” They then agree to buy some more bottles of juice and soda, and Bakugou says they only need a maximum 5 bottles to which Jirou agrees.
Bakugou then says, “Well then let’s just get the hell out of here!” and Kaminari regrettably puts all of the sweets that he added to the shopping cart back on the shelves. Jirou looks at Bakugou and says, “Bakugou, you’re…kinda like a very capable Mom.”
Bakugou gets mad and says, “WHAT!? Stop saying such stupid crap!”
While the Band members are buying stuff at the discount store, the Dance Team members and Stage members are back in the Class A dormitory preparing food and decorating the common room. The Dance Team is in charge of the food and the Stage team is in charge of decorations.
Satou is the one who is cooking most of the food, but the other Dance Team members are helping him with the food preparation. Iida is in charge of chopping the vegetables, and although he is known for his speed, he’s not used to handling knives, so he chops them at a slower pace. Hagakure is in charge of prepping the oil and oil absorbent sheets to fry the chicken and place it on the sheets. Ochako and Ashido are in charge of stirring the pot, which contains beschamel and bolognese sauces.
Ojiro checks up on the oven to make sure that it’s the right temperature. Satou tells Ochako and Ashido to add the sauce for the lasagna and to not forget to put olive oil on top. Shouji says that he’s done making the dressing for the salad, and Satou samples it. The kitchen is full of lively sounds, and everyone is excited for Ojiro’s delicious cooking.
Ochako, Ashido, and Hagakure then discuss how Christmas is around the corner too, so they should do this again and throw a Christmas party next time. While they think about having a potential Christmas party, Iida says, “Hey now! Christmas is a day that celebrates the Birth of Jesus Christ! You should be spending it with your families, so this Christmas we…”
Satou then says, “Iida, the knife, watch out the knife!” since Iida was talking while swinging the knife around in his hand. Iida apologizes. Ashido then says, “But wouldn’t a party be fun?” and Mineta appears in the kitchen holding some peaches while muttering, “Christmas…Christmas costumes…Santa Girl skirts…That’s awesome…”
However, they eventually convince Iida that Christmas is indeed a time to celebrate things together, and Iida gives in and says he will ask Aizawa for permission to throw a Christmas party much to everyone’s delight.
Mineta had been slacking off on his duties by looking at the peaches and stroking them gently, imagining something lewd, and Hagakure calls him out on his perverted thoughts and tells him to help out along with the others.
He is in charge of cutting the carrots, and while everyone is helping prepare the food, Ochako stares at the fried chicken that just came out of the fryer. She can’t help herself and pops one into her mouth only to find that it’s burning hot. Tsuyu says to be careful since they’re still hot, and Ochako apologizes as the fried chicken looked and smelled so delicious she moved without thinking.
Satou asks her how’s the flavor, and she says the fried chicken is really good while giving him a thumbs up.
Ojiro and Hagakure are washing the dishes, and Hagakure holds the plates, making them look like they’re floating in mid air. Ojiro then tells Hagakure that she should probably put some clothes on if she’s going to be in the kitchen where people use fire and knives, but she said she just wanted to see what people’s reactions were to her small pranks. Shouji then passes her an apron, and Mineta muses that it’s one of those tropes where girls wear aprons while naked, but Iida warns him to not go further.
Meanwhile, in the common room area, the Stage Team is preparing the decorations to be strung about the living room. Deku, Todoroki, and Koda are folding origami together to put on the walls as banners. Deku folds a cool All Might shaped origami, and Todoroki praises him, saying “Wow, All Might! That’s awesome!” Deku actually used to practice folding the All Might origami countless of times to perfect its shape, and he blushes a bit when he hears praise from someone.
He then sees that Todoroki folded a crane, and Todoroki says that his sister taught him how to fold the crane origami when he was a child.
Koda then says, “Oh um…I…made a camera origami!” and shows them a whimsical camera shaped origami that makes a shutter noise when pressed. Deku then notices that Koda actually had folded a ton of different origami flowers and animals, and Koda gets a bit embarrassed at the attention.
Koda says, “But the All Might origami is amazing…” and Todoroki agrees.
Todoroki then asks Deku to teach him how to fold the All Might origami. Deku is happy to oblige, and he says, “Okay first you fold a triangle and then…”
As he starts teaching Todoroki, Kirishima comes into the room and puts up his own dorm room’s fisherman banner on the wall of the common room. He says that this will make the place a bit flashier, and the others agree. Aoyama then comes in and also says that they need something sparkly and bright. Aoyama tells them that he’ll come back with something sparkly.
Kirishima then says, “Oh wait I’ll come help too!”
Todoroki then turns to Deku and says, “Midoriya, so how exactly do you fold the All Might origami?”
Deku realized that he was in the middle of teaching Todoroki before they got interrupted by the others, so he resumes his lesson by saying to first fold a triangle. Afterwards, he goes off on a tangent about how to perfect the folding process as well as making sure to accentuate the silhouette of All Might through the folds, and as he mumbles a bit, he accidentally folds the origami too quickly.
Todoroki is patient with him though and says again, “Um…can you please start from the beginning and teach me the steps a bit slower this time?”
Deku apologizes for folding the paper too fast and teaches Todoroki again, this time at a slower pace.
Kirishima then walks by and says, “Woah Todoroki, you also want to learn how to fold the All Might origami?” He leaves them to their folding and joins Aoyama and Koda in putting the finished origami and other decorations up on the walls.
After Todoroki successfully folds the All Might origami, Deku says, “You made your first All Might origami!” and Todoroki responds quietly, “I think this should be able to fit in the letter…”
Deku says, “Hmm?” and Todoroki says, “Ah, it’s nothing.”
Aoyama them brings a disco ball into the common room, and he, Kirishima, and Sero put up the other decorations.
Finally, the preparations are complete, and the Class A students gather in the common room surrounding a bunch of food that’s placed on the tables. Iida then makes a toast to a successful Cultural Festival, and everyone raises their glasses and says, “Cheers!”
Satou mentions that he also has prepared dessert, and they have two choices of either a chestnut and fig montblanc cake or an apple and peach jelly. Tsuyu chooses the jelly as jelly is apparently her favorite food. Tokoyami also chooses the jelly dessert while Ashido takes the montblanc.
Iida mentions that he and Mineta were in charge of chopping the cabbages and carrots for the cole slaw. Todoroki and Deku praise him and say that the coleslaw is delicious.
Bakugou watches irritably and decides to leave the party, but Kaminari says, “Hey hey hey, where do you think you’re going, Kacchan-kun!?” Bakugou says that seeing everyone making small talk is pissing him off, but Kaminari rebutts by saying, “But you looked excited when you were buying food!”
Kirishima then comes over and says, “Bakugou! I brought you some fried chicken! Let’s eat a ton!” and puts a bunch of fried chicken in front of Bakugou, to which he says he doesn’t want it. Kirishima doesn’t back down though and says, “Oh I got it! So you want lasagna instead!” and brings a slice of lasagna for him.
Satou noticed Kirishima carrying the food over and says, “Hey, you should put a bunch of tabasco on it before eating too!” and pours a bunch of tabasco onto the lasagna and force feeds Bakugou with it. Bakugou yells, “What the hell are you doing!?” but eventually pipes down after taking the lasagna from Kirishima as it seems like he does enjoy the food after all. Kirishima watches him and says, “See, I told you it’s good! I’ll bring you seconds!” and goes to bring Bakugou more food.
Sero then turns everyone’s attention towards the TV in the common room. He says, “Well then now that Bakugou’s calmed down, let’s watch the recap of our Cultural Festival performance!” He turns on the TV and everyone gathers around to watch the recorded performance.
Some of the members mention that Deku was late to the performance, and they thought that he might not even be able to perform. Deku apologizes for being late, but as the performance starts, they can hear the audience’s chatter as someone yells “YAOYOROZU!!!” Ashido and Kaminari tease her about having fans, and she gets flustered. Satou then whispers, “It’s starting…it’s starting…!” and the screen fills with the sound of Bakugou’s drums as well as a huge explosion.
The girls all fawn over how cool Jirou looks while singing, and this causes her to blush and say, “Please stop…” Koda also adds, “You were really cool, Jirou-san,” which makes her blush deepen.
Ashido exclaims, “Look look, the dance is all in line too!” and the class watches as Ojiro uses his tail to swing around. Everyone on the dance team mentions how it was thanks to Ashido being their teacher that they were able to have fun while dancing and making this possible. Next is Deku and Aoyama’s synchronized dance, and Shouji murmurs to Tsuyu, “Wow, they are so in sync!” to which she replies, “Midoriya-chan and Aoyama-chan practiced real hard, right?”
The students continue to watch as Aoyama becomes a disco ball and the stage team starts their part of the performance with Kirishima shaving the ice that Todoroki created while Sero uses his tape, and Kirishima says, “You guys’ timing was perfect, Seroroki!”
Sero mentions that they should try this move out while doing actual hero work next time, and Todoroki agrees. As Kaminari watches himself play the guitar, he says, “Woah there…I feel like I’m gonna be super popular after this with those slick guitar moves…!” and Mineta says, “But wait did you guys see my harem dance? That was the best…!”
Jirou says, “Tokoyami, you’ve gotten super good at guitar!” and Tokoyami mentions that it’s all thanks to her.
Kirishima and Bakugou are watching the performance from a spot a little away from the rest of the class, and Kirishima smiles at Bakugou, saying, “Man, you’re great at drumming after all!” and Bakugou replies casually, “it’s just average.”
Jirou overhears their conversation and says, “No way! Your drumming was phenomenal! Your rhythm is what allowed us all to stay in sync! Thank you for taking on this role!” and Bakugou scoffs and says, “Well, you’re the one who carried the whole performance though!”
Everyone is really impressed by Jirou’s bass skills as well as her singing, and they vote for her as the Class A Cultural Festival MVP. Everyone, aside from Bakugou, smiles at her, and she blushes, saying, “What…why…”
Yaoyorozu remarks, “Jirou-san, you were shining the brightest!” and Aoyama says, “Even more than me!?☆” But he agrees that Jirou indeed deserves the MVP title.
The class asks Jirou to make a small speech. She thanks everyone for making this performance a reality, and she’s really happy that they were able to perform together.
After everyone is done eating, Sero and Kaminari tells the class that they have some cool party games planned for everyone. Most of the class are excited for what they have in store, but Bakugou feels like it’s a waste of time and gets up to leave. Kirishima tries to stop him, but Sero taunts, “Oh, you’re leaving because you don’t think you can win, right? Well that’s fine, you can go back. Even though we have a quiz specifically tailored for you, but I guess you’d fail anyway.”
This gets Bakugou angry, and he agrees to participate in Sero’s dumb quiz challenge.
The games that Sero and Kaminari have planned are for one member of each Cultural Festival team to undergo a “Can you guess the __” type of challenge. Bakugou is first up, representing the Band Team. His challenge is to differentiate between three different types of pepper spice seasoning purely by taste (called 一味 ichimi).
Bakugou sits down in front of the table that has the seasonings, and Sero blindfolds him by putting on an eye mask that has a funny grinning face on it. Deku and the others snicker at how ridiculous Bakugou looks with that eye mask on, and Bakugou gets mad, yelling, “Damnit Deku, what the hell is so funny!?” Deku replies, “Well, anyone would laugh when they see…hahah!”
Bakugou roars, “You piece of shit!” but Todoroki says calmly, “Hey Bakugou, maybe you should consider wearing a hero suit that matches that mask.” Bakugou is furious and yells, “Shut the hell up, you half and half bastard!”
The challenge then begins, and Kaminari spoon feeds Bakugou the three different spices. He surprises everyone by correctly guessing each type of spice and goes even as far to explain which company manufactures them. Kaminari and Sero are speechless, but Deku says, “I thought that Kacchan would know the difference. He’s always had a very particular sense of taste. He could even tell when sweets expired and would never eat the expired food.”
Bakugou gets mad and says, “Don’t put on that stupid face as if you know it all!” and throws the eye mask at Deku.
The next challenge is Todoroki’s turn, representing the Stage Team. His task is to figure out among three cups of brown liquid which one is soba noodle soup. The cups contain either coffee, soba noodle soup, or throat medicine, and Todoroki cannot smell or taste them before picking his answer.
Iida mentions that Todoroki often eats soba during lunch, so there’s no way he would guess incorrectly for a food that he loves. Deku says, “Good luck, Todoroki!” as everyone watches him study the cups closely. The catch is that he also has to drink from whichever cup he chooses. Todoroki decides on a cup and drinks from it, only to spit it out and say, “That…wasn’t soba noodle soup…”
Kaminari chimes in by explaining that the cup he chose was actually throat medicine. Todoroki apologizes for spitting out the throat medicine, which splurted all over Iida and Deku. They tell him not to worry as more importantly, they need to get tissues to clean up the mess. Todoroki mutters, “I don’t think I want to eat soba anymore after this…”
The next challenge is for Tsuyu, where she has to differentiate from three different types of fluffy things: Koda’s bunny, Ojiro’s tail, and Deku’s hair by touch only. As she puts on the eye mask, Koda, Ojirou, and Deku stand in front of her. When Koda offers the bunny, Tsuyu says, “it’s fluffy.” When Ojiro offers his tail, she also says, “it’s fluffy.” When Deku offers his hair, Tsuyu says, “it’s…fuzzy?” She then correctly guesses which fluffiness was which.
Kaminari and Sero then round up the results of the various challenges, and the winner ends up being Bakugou!
Bakugou says, “Obviously I would win!” but the party’s not over yet! Next up is the Personality Quiz! Sero explains that since the class is with each other practically 24/7, they should all have picked up on small details of each other. This quiz will test how well they actually know each other after all.
The first question they ask is, “What did Iida answer on his Hero Test the other day to name the three most beautiful Heroes of the past?”
The class guesses incorrectly, and the answer was that he wrote on his test “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and everyone has their own different types of beauty.”
Baffled, Iida asks Sero and Kaminari how they even knew what he wrote on a test paper, and they explained that their accomplice, Hagakure, has been doing a bit of spying on everyone in order for them to make this quiz a reality. Hagakure apologizes for doing so, but she says that she saw it as an opportunity to also test out her hero skills too.
The next question is “What has Yaoyorozu been obsessed about lately?” Jirou answers first, saying “Oh, is it furikake (rice seasoning)?” The answer turns out to be correct, and recently, Yaoyorozu has taken a strong liking to furikake to season her rice, which makes her blush a bit.
Sero then says, “All right Kaminari, what’s the next question?”
Kaminari answers, “Okay! For the next question, what made Ojirou disappointed recently!?”
Satou guesses, “Cementoss said his effort was average?”
Shouji says, “Tetsutetsu told him his strength was average?”
Aoyama ponders, “Recovery Girl said his health was average?☆”
The correct answer is actually Ojiro changed the conditioner for his tail recently, but no one noticed. However, Hagakure sidles up to him and says, “I actually saw you looking around near the bathroom area to see if anyone noticed, haha!” and Ojiro gets red, saying, “Well if you were watching me, why didn’t you say anything…!?”
The next question was, “What was hidden in Kirishima’s elementary school yearbook!?” Kirishima panics and says, “Huh!? How did you…!” but Sero grins and says, “That’s only for me to know. But I totally could not believe what was hidden there!”
Ashido guesses, “Maybe a love letter!?”
Mineta exclaims, “A porn magazine!!”
Todoroki says, “Failed test scores?”
All three of them were incorrect. The correct answer is “a photo of him dressed up as a girl!”
Bakugou says to him, “You’re actually into that kinda stuff?”
Kirishima gets flustered and says, “Wait, you’ve got it all wrong! It was during my elementary school’s festival stage play of Cinderella where I played the Stepmother! When I left the picture at home, my mommy kept showing it to other people, so I tried to hide it!!”
Kaminari then continues with the next question, saying “Okay, so next question. Before the Cultural Festival performance, what did Uraraka mess up on!?”
Deku says, “She accidentally made herself float!?”
Iida offers, “She was too nervous she threw up!?”
Tokoyami asks, “She ate too much mochi and threw up!?”
Kaminari says they all guessed wrong and the correct answer is “she was looking for Midoriya but tripped and accidentally went into a room where Class B’s Monoma was in the middle of changing clothes!”
Ochako gets red in the face and says, “I didn’t do it on purpose!!”
Mineta comments something lewd, but Tsuyu shuts him down.
The next question is “What was the reason why Jirou and Hagakure were arguing!?”
Koda says, “Because Hagakure-san was messing with Jirou-san’s earphone jack…?”
Yaoyorozu offers, “Jirou-san accidentally stepped on Hagakure-san’s naked body?”
Mineta exclaims, “Fighting over a guy!”
The correct answer is because Hagakure tried scaring Jirou after they watched a horror film together. Ashido asked whether they actually argued, and Jirou said she got mad because when she takes a shower alone, she’s usually scared of the bathroom area anyway. So when Hagakure messed with her by causing the lights to flicker on and off and the faucet to suddenly turn on by itself, she absoutely freaked out and felt like she almost had a heart attack. Naturally, she was livid, and Hagakure says, “Sorry Jirou, your reactions were just too good!”
The next question is about Deku, and Kaminari asks, “Recently, Deku has been leaving the dorm early to meet with someone. Who is that secret someone!?” (**Note: The word they use is ‘aibiki,” which means secret date/meeting).
Deku is surprised and says, “Wait, how do you know that…?”
Mineta and Satou ask if he was secretly meeting up with a girl, and Iida says, “Midoriya-kun! Are you actually in a relationship with a girl!? You should prioritize studies first!”
Ochako is confused as she says to herself, “Aibiki? Like the type of meat?” (**Note: Ochako isn’t familiar with the word, so she thinks it’s referring to ‘aibikiniku,’ which is a combination of different types of ground meat)
Deku gets nervous and says, “No, it’s not like that…” He thinks of ways to deflect the situation without making it known that he’s actually meeting up with All Might in the morning to train his quirk, but the other classmates continue to guess.
Kirishima says, “He’s meeting with someone from the General Class!?”
Ashido says, “No way…maybe he’s meeting with someone older, like Midnight…!?”
Mineta suggests, “Maybe he’s meeting with a living thing other than a girl…!!”
All three of their guesses were incorrect, and the correct answer was that he was meeting with the Support Department’s Hatsume Mei!
Deku is relieved to know that the others have not found out about his secret rendezvous with All Might early in the morning to do training.
Bakugou snorts and says, “There’s no way that dumb nerd would ever be popular!” but Sero says, “No, Midoriya is quite popular among the ladies. Like during the Provisional License Exam when that naked upper classman got all over him.”
Deku rebutts by saying, “But that was because she was attacking me!?”
Iida then recalls how Hatsume helped Deku out when they went to the department together earlier, and after an explosion, she was also all over him. Mineta then gets lewd thoughts again, but the conversation switches to Mineta using his mogimogi hair balls and puts it on Deku’s head. Iida notes that it looks like Deku’s wearing those infamous mouse ears from “Zoo Dreamland” (aka Disneyland). Ashido mentions that she used to go to Disneyla—…Zoo Dreamland all the time when she was younger. The class chatter switches to discussing their favorite rides, attractions, and food.
The class then asks Mineta to put mogimogi balls on their heads too so they can look like they’re wearing those infamous mouse ears as well. Mineta enjoys the attention and says, “All right I guess…”
Before the party wraps up, Sero mentions that there’s one more video that they want to show to everyone. As they gather around the TV to watch, they see Aizawa on screen with a cat. As the video starts, Aizawa suddenly appears in the common room and reprimands them, asking what are they doing up so late? The video pauses on the screen.
Aizawa stops the party and tells everyone to clean up and go to their rooms. Since the party’s over, he tells Sero, Kaminari, and Hagakure to stay behind. The three students prepare themselves for a scolding, but instead, Aizawa asks them where they got this footage.
It turns out that Present Mic gave it to them after he recorded it while hiding in sight. The footage was of Aizawa trying to befriend a cat, but the cat ignores him and goes to All Might instead. Sero actually came to the faculty department before the after-party to ask for permission to show the footage, and since Aizawa wasn’t there at the time, All Might said it was okay.
However, Aizawa says he will be collecting the footage and tells the three to never discuss the contents of the video to anyone. They agree, and he sends them off on their way.
It’s been a long day, and Aizawa sighs and wonders just when he got caught up in all of this student stuff. However, although adolescence is short, that never stops them from chasing their dreams forever. Happily, while young, without sadness, sweetly, harshly…youth is a precious thing.
The light novel ends with Aizawa saying, “Good luck, everyone” with the words “the festival had ended, but even so, their bright days continue onward.”
THE END
#boku no hero academia#bnha#deku#midoriya izuku#bakugou#bakugou katsuki#ochako#todoroki#todoroki shouto#iida#kirishima#kirishima eijirou#ochako uraraka#tsuyu asui#yaoyorozu#jirou kyoka#kaminari denki#sero#all might#aizawa#my translations#this story was cute
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When Villain!Yuu manages to return to their dimension and finds out their minions did, it’s one of the few times that the Supervisor has lived up to their title as heir. The next day the head of the minions of the attempted murder squad was found battered, covered in bird poo, and tied in front of RSA. If Crowley asks, Yuu makes the excuse that they are simply following one of the rules of villainy. If a minion steps out of line, don’t correct, make an example out of them.
Thank you for the ask, dear anon!
Warning for dark under the cut.
There are three items on the desk.
One is a cellphone. It’s a compact, black brick of a thing, the sort that could survive a drop from a window a story up. Its screen is currently dark and silent. It has not buzzed or vibrated, or given any indication that it’s even on.
The second is a glass of clear liquid. The glass looks pretty standard, no fancy plane designs or rectangular shapes. Just a squat round cup with a round lip and clear liquid an inch or so from the top. There are small bubbles forming in the bottom, the longer it remains undisturbed. It doesn’t seem like those are the results of carbonation, or some other nefarious properties.
No. If anything, the cup is there for the third object on the table.
A pair of two pills are sitting innocently by the cup’s side. One is larger, pale pink, and lozenge shaped. The other is smaller, a capsule that’s colored dark green and blue.
The minion swallows. The phlegm feels like it’s lodged in his throat.
There’s a sigh from the other side of the table.
The Supervisor leans forward. The supervillain’s features are slightly drawn, like they’re preparing to undertake an unpleasant chore.
The minion has the insane urge to giggle at the sight.
“So…” The Supervisor splays their hands. “Unfortunately, following reviews of your recent performance, we have found that you are…not a good fit for this business. It’s been determined that it’s in everyone’s best interests for you to be terminated from your current position effective immediately.”
The minion—or rather, ex-minion—gives a shaky nod.
The Supervisor tilts the brim of their top hat up, so they can better make eye contact with him. “You have two choices for your…ah, severance package.”
One hand gestures to the glass and pills. “Option one: you take these. The pink one is a sedative, and it’s up to you whether you take it before or after the other. It’s pretty fast acting, so it shouldn’t matter so much either way. All you’ll know is just falling asleep.”
The other gestures to the phone. “Option two: I make a call to Dr. Crewel. You’ll be transferred to his department. But in the, ah…volunteer capacity. Instead of the minion one. Do you have any questions?”
There’s a moment of stunned silence.
“W-what?” The ex-minion stutters. “B-but…I, I don’t understand?”
“What don’t you understand?” The Supervisor asks, patience in every line of their posture. Like they were an adult helping to explain something complicated to a small child.
This, in spite of the fact that the ex-minon was a decade the supervillain’s senior.
That helps the ex-minion order his thoughts somewhat. “I-I thought the rules for g-getting fired were that the min-minion in question would be turned over to the police for arrest. Or to the local sup-superheroes.”
The Supervisor nods. “That is what happens in most cases, yes. However, in those cases, the termination is contingent more on minion incompetence or betrayal. You and your…friends, regrettably, fall outside that purview.”
The ex-minion’s mouth moves soundlessly. “But…I don’t understand. Isn’t this for betrayal? That I betrayed you?”
The Supervisor’s mouth tightens, even as the rest of their face remains impassive. “That…is another crime you committed, and one that was taken into account when making this decision. But it is far from the main motivating factor behind all this.”
The ex-minion wracks his brain. “But, what…?”
“You attempted to murder a child.” The supervillain exhales, some dark, wounded emotion entering their eyes for the first time. “Another version of myself, true, but an injured, defenseless child. One who had never done anything to you, or anyone else in this world. Who had no involvement in whatever quarrel you have with me. Who nearly bled to death on my roof due to the injuries sustained as a direct result of your attempted murder.”
The Supervisor shakes their head. “And that would be bad enough, especially as I was under the impression that they would at least be cared for in my absence. Except this? This was not an isolated incident, was it? Looking over the behavior of the perpetrators, it’s become clear this is only the culmination of a dangerous trend I should’ve seen and put a stop to ages ago.”
The ex-minion doesn’t think he can breathe.
“The first endangerment of Miss Elena Blackwood back at the bank. The repeated suggestions of attacking elementary, middle or high schools or public playgrounds to divert heroic attention during heists or schemes. The inclination to ignore my orders when I specified that children were to be released immediately if caught up in a hostage situation we organized. The attempted hostage taking of Mr. Cheka Kingscholar while he was my guest.”
The ex-minion tries swallowing again. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “I thought you didn’t know about that.”
He winces at the mindless admission.
The Supervisor’s eyes narrow at him, and fury rolls off them in almost visible waves. There is no doubting the Night Raven’s genetics were used to make them like this.
“I have my ways.”
The ex-minion quails under their glare.
The Supervisor sighs, scrubbing a hand over their eyes. “Do you understand now? You are not being fired for betrayal. You and your cohorts are being terminated for repeated and willful perpetuation of un-villainous crimes of one of the highest orders, in accordance with League Statute A55. So, what’ll it be?”
“Sh-shouldn’t there be a hear-hearing, or, or an appeal, or something?!” The ex-minion begs desperately.
“If you wanted forgiveness, you should have applied to the Royal Sword Association.” The Supervisor rattles off blandly. “We here at Night Raven Corporation specialize in putting the super back into supervillainy.”
The ex-minion slumps. “…I always hated that slogan.”
The Supervisor pulls a commiserating face. “Not some of Dad’s best work, I’ll admit.”
He stares at the pills and at the phone.
“…Which did Miette pick?”
The supervillain pointedly glances towards the glass and its companions.
He snorts. “Naturally. She’d rather be dead rather than be something monstrous like you.”
The Supervisor inclines their head but doesn’t deny his words.
He considers it some more. “…Would I still receive a paycheck? As a volunteer?”
The Supervisor shrugs. “One that’s considerably reduced from what you currently earn, but yes. You would be compensated for your services. And your current life insurance will still be maintained and paid out to those you specify in the event of an accident under Dr. Crewel’s care. Or, indeed, if you take the other option.”
Like he has anyone he wants that money to go to.
His eyes dart between them.
The choice is easy in the end. Miette can call him a coward all she wants beyond the grave, but he’s not letting this thing be the last sight he sees.
“Make the call.”
The supervillain nods, and picks up the phone.
It’s screen lights up as they lift it towards their ear, pressing a button. “Dr. Crewel? Mr. Aston Michaels has expressed his consent to be transferred to the volunteer department. When can we expect pickup? Five minutes? Yes. Yes, this is the last one. Well, thank you for your help. Have a nice day.”
They hang up, and set the phone back down on the table.
Something flickers across their face— distaste? Weariness? Regret? Whatever it is, he hopes it haunts this thing’s nightmares for the rest of its miserable existence. It’s the least it deserves.
The two of them sit there in silence. Then there’s a knocking behind him, and light spills over him as the door is opened.
A pair of minions in impeccable suits step through, nodding to the supervillain, who nods back. Each one of them takes one of his arms and gently pulls him up from his seat.
“I’d say you’re going to be dammed to Hell for this.” He says, almost cheerfully, before they can turn him away. “But I’m pretty sure you need a soul to go down there, and things like you don’t have those.”
There’s a subtle intake of breath from the suited minions on either side of him. He ignores them, his glare fixated on his now ex-boss.
The Supervisor smiles grimly back at him. For some reason, that kind of pisses him off.
“Oh, believe me, Mr. Michaels. I know.”
#ask#tw: suicide mention#tw: human experimentation#twisted wonderland#twst#harrassed villain yuu au#supervillain au#twisted wonderland yuu#twst yuu#the supervisor#villainous paranoiac yuu#divus crewel#dire crowley#why is all my dark stuff for this au#like seriously#office jargon covering up terms of endangerment#yuu goes and gets very drunk with ace and deuce after this
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Spilled Pearls
- Chapter 8 - ao3 -
Lan Qiren’s brother did not outwardly react when Wen Ruohan announced what happened.
He merely stared, face as impassive as a stone washed clean by the river, his posture and position impeccable from the little glimpses Lan Qiren kept stealing of him – he was trying to keep his head ducked and his gaze firmly on the ground, trying to demonstrate penitence, but he couldn’t quite resist looking. He assumed that his brother’s seeming indifference was a mask for the rage he undoubtedly felt, seeing his little brother screw up what would have otherwise been a perfect discussion conference for the Lan sect.
It seemed like a reasonable conclusion, given that Lao Nie was taking up all the slack of reacting with rage without any such mask whatsoever.
“He’s little more than a child!” Lao Nie shouted.
“Little more, perhaps,” Wen Ruohan said smoothly. He was enjoying himself, Lan Qiren thought. “But regardless of how close or how far he is, he is adult enough.”
“He can’t marry or inherit –”
“He shed blood in a night-hunt, and that means he can swear oaths, which is all that’s relevant here. It isn’t as if I married him.”
“He’s sixteen! If someone removed sixteen years out of your life, Hanhan, you wouldn’t even notice the absence!”
“True, but irrelevant,” Wen Ruohan said. “And don’t call me that, Sect Leader Nie.”
“I’ll call you whatever I damn well please, you little –”
“You are unharmed?” Lan Qiren’s brother asked Lan Qiren.
Lan Qiren, who’d been spectating the increasingly fraught back and forth between the two sect leaders, turned to look at him, surprised to be addressed.
“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “I only had a headache, and Sect Leader Wen took care of that.”
“You call me da-ge now,” Wen Ruohan reminded him, turning briefly away from his argument to do so. “Your oath, remember.”
“Does he even remember swearing the oaths?” Lao Nie hissed. “You know how these Lan drink – you and your damned need for control! Just because you can’t get it one way, you have to try another, is that it, Hanhan?”
“Sect Leader Nie, if you really find it impossible to be civil -”
“If you are unharmed, then we can return to the Cloud Recesses,” Lan Qiren’s brother said, ignoring them both. His voice was as distant and cold as a winter breeze, piercing and lifeless; it reminded Lan Qiren a little of his father, and he shivered. “We will determine the remainder at that time.”
“See?” Wen Ruohan said goadingly to Lao Nie, whose scowl only deepened. “If even his own sect doesn’t object to it –”
“They didn’t not object, they’re refraining from making a statement; it’s not the same thing. ‘Even ten years isn’t too late for a gentleman to get revenge’ – !”
“I should like to see them try.”
Lan Qiren felt a sudden sense of relief, heralded by a bright and abrupt clarity: of course Wen Ruohan hadn’t sworn brotherhood with him on his behalf! He’d only done it because he’d seen Lan Qiren together with Lao Nie, found that the sight offended his vision, and immediately decided to disrupt it. Never mind that Lao Nie didn’t have any intentions beyond the casual mentorship of any older cultivator to a junior – Wen Ruohan was well known for his paranoia, his irritability, his tendency to seize on crazy ideas. And, of course, there was his jealousy, a trait to which he had himself admitted…
A treasure sword used to prop up a table, indeed. It wasn’t about Lan Qiren's merits or the Lan sect’s supposed failings at all. The only table Wen Ruohan was concerned with was Lao Nie’s!
(And that certainly did explain the whole bizarre ‘Hanhan’ thing better than any other hypothesis Lan Qiren had come up with.)
Lan Qiren wasn’t sure it was better, exactly, to be a pawn in a strange game between sect leaders, but it was at least more familiar. As a younger son of a politically minded Great Sect, he was more like a daughter; being used for some scheme by the adults around him had always been his destiny, barring some tragedy or especially indulgent parents – the former was unlikely, the latter he lacked – and so his fate was set.
Of course, it would have been better not to be in a game involving Wen Ruohan at all, but he supposed that there were worse options.
After all, if Wen Ruohan’s primary interest was in tormenting Lao Nie, he probably wouldn’t demand Lan Qiren’s presence in the Nightless City all that often – probably just enough to show that he could – and Lan Qiren would be allowed to continue with his plans for his future. It might even turn out to be something of a benefit. After all, a musician with limited martial skills, traveling all alone, could always use strong friends that were nearby, and the Wen sect’s reach far exceeded that of the Lan sect…
Anyway, comparatively, Lan Qiren disliked far more the idea of being stuck in the Jin sect with its inexplicable devotion to worldly affairs (and when it came to Jin Guangshan, word was that that usually meant literal affairs…), and he would have undoubtedly gone utterly mad in the Jiang sect, with its emphasis on freedom and lack of any rules to explain anything. And of course, regrettably, the Nie sect wouldn't have done such a thing to begin with, secretive as they were...
No, it wouldn’t be so bad, Lan Qiren tried to convince himself. It wouldn’t be so bad at all.
The illusion lasted exactly as long as it took for the leaders of the five Great Sects to retreat to finalize their discussions on business – with Sect Leader Jiang and Jin stepping up to keep Sect Leaders Wen and Nie from each other’s throats, even as Lan Qiren’s brother ignored them all – and Lan Qiren returned to his proper place among the other Lan sect disciples.
“Did he really put you in the Fire Palace until you agreed?” one of them asked, then was promptly elbowed by at least three of his fellows – it was poor Lan Yueheng that had asked, naturally; he was extraordinarily good at mathematics and extraordinarily bad at just about everything else, including both tact and following the Lan sect rules. Lan Qiren had gotten on quite well with him in the past, each one happy to have an audience to listen to their rambling without caring too much if the other side was really listening, but Lan Yueheng was Lan Ganhui’s mother’s sister’s son, the two of them raised together like brothers, and in recent years the latter had a habit of restricting the former from spending too much time with Lan Qiren, the favorite subject of his mockery.
“No,” Lan Qiren said stiffly, and turned his face away in sudden upset. He had almost managed to forget that his new sworn brother was reputed to enjoy spending his free time torturing people, enough so that he had an entire prison devoted to it.
The older brother guided, the younger brother obeyed – what was Lan Qiren supposed to learn from Wen Ruohan? How to be cruel and pitiless, how to hurt people, how to increase his cultivation by doing all manner of dirty things?
Even if he didn’t learn such things, wouldn’t people assume it of him anyway?
“But I heard –” Lan Yueheng persisted, then hissed when someone stepped on his foot.
“No,” Lan Qiren said, stronger this time. “Do not speak behind the backs of others, Yueheng-xiong.”
“Oh. Right.”
Someone muttered killjoy under their breath, but that wasn’t exactly new; his brother thought he was one, and he was popular, so others often followed his lead - and anyway, perhaps he was. At any rate, they all stood around in awkward silence for a little while before someone decided to recount one of the incidents in the main event competition once again, their voice a little over-loud in the silence, and a perfectly anodyne conversation about Qingheng-jun’s performance started up in earnest to cover over all the things they did not say.
That, too, was not new.
Truly, life would be easier if everyone would just listen to the rules, Lan Qiren thought wistfully. The nice written-down ones, just those, and never mind about all the unspoken ones, the ones that everyone seemed to intuitively understand except for him – he tried his best to learn those, too, and to extrapolate from one situation to another, but unspoken rules seemed as changeable as a puff of cloud. It was simply impossible.
In the end, the sect leaders finished up their business and each of them took their leave from the Nightless City, just the way that always happened. Before he went, Lao Nie put his hand on Lan Qiren’s shoulder and said, “Write to me if you ever need anything at all,” while glaring at Wen Ruohan, who smirked back; Lan Qiren’s brother did not glance at either of them and merely walked off, his hands behind his back and his posture straight and tall as a tree. The other two Great Sect leaders, Jin and Jiang, exchanged glances of their own and headed off their own way without a word, choosing, quite prudently, not to get involved.
Lan Qiren saluted to Lao Nie and, slightly more hesitantly, to Wen Ruohan, then followed after his brother. To his relief, Wen Ruohan didn’t stop him, only watched him go, his eyes glittering malevolently - his gaze a palpable weight. It wasn’t quite like the first few times they’d met, where the pressure almost felt like the other man was exerting power on him; rather, Lan Qiren suspected, the weight he was feeling was only the weight of all the new expectations that had fallen onto his shoulders as a result of his new brotherhood.
The ride home was excruciatingly awkward.
It was not a short journey, and Lan Qiren did not speak to his brother once the entire time by mutual unspoken agreement. He might not have noticed such a thing normally, but his brother’s usually cool aura was positively frigid, driving Lan Qiren to silence even when he might have otherwise spoken on mundane matters such as the weather or travel conditions.
Lan Qiren even suspected that if he had dared to try, his brother might have used the muting spell on him.
Naturally, the other disciples followed his brother’s lead – poor Lan Yueheng looked especially torn up over it, and at one point Lan Qiren found a book on abstruse geometry hidden under his pillow in what was probably a well-meaning gesture of solidarity – and Lan Qiren was stuck in that uncomfortable place where he finally had the peace and solitude he often longed for when stuck in a crowd while also simultaneously feeling awful about it, struck with a sudden desire for the company of his family, however cold it might be.
When at last they returned home in the late afternoon, Lan Qiren knew from experience what to do next: he went straight to the hanshi, where his father was waiting for their report, and knelt in penance outside. If the trip had gone well, he would have helped his brother settle the final matters relating to their trip – putting back anything borrowed from the sect’s stores, registering everyone as having arrived with no one lost on the way, that sort of thing – but since it hadn’t, his duties were limited to…well, this.
It was unpleasant, but then, it was supposed to be.
He waited for over a shichen in unmoving silence. The remainder of the sect tiptoed around him, with the disciples that had remained behind sending him sympathetic looks that suggested that they didn’t know exactly what had happened but were burning with curiosity to find out.
It was already dark by the time his brother arrived.
When he did so, he walked right by Lan Qiren without looking and went inside.
There was no written rule against eavesdropping, although there were several unspoken rules about it that were sometimes but not always applicable, but even when (guiltily) straining his ears to the utmost, Lan Qiren could only hear the vaguest murmur of voices within.
It was only after some time – towards the end of his brother’s report, no doubt – that there was a brief uptick, a surprised exclamation (possibly “what?!”, although Lan Qiren’s father was soft-spoken enough that even an exclamation was too muffled to be properly audible), and Lan Qiren braced himself.
After a little longer, the door to the hanshi opened.
“Qiren,” his father’s voice drifted out. “Enter.”
Lan Qiren got up, a little unsteady from all the kneeling, straightened himself out and walked inside, his hands folded behind his back. He would have knelt again, but his father waved for him to keep standing, frowning thoughtfully at him as his brother drank the tea they had been sharing.
“You swore an oath of brotherhood with Sect Leader Wen?” his father asked, his face frustratingly neutral.
Lan Qiren nodded, then amended: “I do not remember doing so. He offered me a toast, and would not allow me to reject it, and then the next morning, he informed me that we had sworn an oath together and showed me the written version of the oath.”
The paper in question was laid out on the table in front of his father. Lan Qiren’s brother had confiscated it after Wen Ruohan had showed it to him, and Lan Qiren hadn’t figured out a way to ask to see it, though he desperately wanted to know whether they had sworn one of the classical brotherhood oaths or if they’d added their own clauses. It seemed like a thing Wen Ruohan would do, yet the idea had only belatedly occurred to Lan Qiren, which meant he hadn’t properly examined the oath while he’d had the chance.
His father hummed thoughtfully.
“There’s no reason to doubt Sect Leader Wen,” Lan Qiren’s brother opined. “He is meticulous in his schemes. Even if there were, the announcement was public; I would not have our clan be known as oath-breakers.”
“Public and unrefuted,” Lan Qiren’s father said, and Lan Qiren blinked because he almost sounded disapproving – but his father never disapproved of anything his brother did, as far as he knew. “Still, you are not wrong. There are few more decisive than Sect Leader Wen. Once he settled on his course, he would not leave such a gap through which one could retreat, not even for himself…Qiren.”
Lan Qiren straightened.
“You were unharmed?”
He blinked at the unexpected question, the same his brother had posed.
“I only had a headache,” he said hesitantly, vaguely aware from the way his father looked at him and his brother did as well that his answer was not what they were expecting. “From the liquor. Nothing else.”
“Did anything else hurt?” his father pressed. “Your body?”
Lan Qiren thought back. “My upper arms,” he said, remembering. He’d thought it was from the uncomfortable bed. “And my right knee. They were a little bruised, I think, but it went away after Sect Leader Wen shared spiritual energy with me.”
His father frowned and twisted his fingers in a gesture; an array opened beneath Lan Qiren’s feet, and the places he had mentioned, as well as his palms and forehead, began to glow.
The marks on his arms, glowing with the pale echoes of Wen Ruohan’s qi, were in the shape of hands.
(Wen Ruohan had commented on Lan Qiren’s enthusiastic telling of the Lan sect rules while intoxicated, to the point of seeking to hold him down as an unwilling audience. Had Wen Ruohan had to physically restrain him from causing trouble as well?)
“The disgrace was minimal, then,” his brother remarked, and when their father said nothing but dismissed the spell Lan Qiren abruptly realized that they were trying to figure out if he had, in fact, been deflowered, just as Wen Ruohan had teasingly hinted that night. He had not shared with anyone that he had woken up in Wen Ruohan’s bed, too mortified to do so, and now that the suggestion had been seriously raised, he was even more determined never to do so. “Not that that will help the rumors.”
Lan Qiren hadn’t thought – surely people wouldn’t think – wouldn’t assume –
Wen Ruohan had no reputation for liking young boys. He wasn’t even known to cut his sleeve!
(Lan Qiren didn’t know what he himself liked. He’d thought he’d have more time to figure it out.)
“We do not guide our sect according to rumors.”
His brother put down his teacup with a little more force than necessary. “Is it the sale or the price that you object to, Father?” he asked, voice far sharper than it should be when speaking to an elder, least of all their father. “See what I have accomplished for our sect, and without even the official authority of being vested as sect leader! It is just as you taught me! Am I to flinch simply because he shares my blood?”
“It is not what is taken,” their father responded, his voice a little sharper than usual as well, but not by much; he might as well have been commenting disapprovingly on an unfortunate turn in the weather. “But that it is Wen Ruohan who takes. His greed knows no boundaries, his recklessness grows by the year – today Qiren is unharmed and your plans may proceed, but what of tomorrow?”
“Have you thought of any better use to put him to? His role is to serve the sect!”
“As a disciple of the Lan sect,” their father said. His tone was still mild, but his voice was icy enough to make Lan Qiren shiver in a confused sort of fear that he did not quite understand. “Not as a plaything for Wen Ruohan.”
By all rights, Lan Qiren’s brother ought to now kneel and beg forgiveness from his elder, his sect leader, his father, but instead he only shook his head. “An oath of brotherhood goes both ways,” he reminded their father, speaking to him as if they were equals. “Sect Leader Wen announced to the world that he swore an oath with a child – does that not also mean that responsibility for his safety and wellbeing falls equally on his shoulders? Any harm to him stains Sect Leader Wen’s name as much if not more than ours.”
“Are we to let outsiders educate our children, then?”
“One cannot compare a foolish younger son to a brother, voluntarily chosen. He chose it, not us; everyone knows this. Any mistakes Qiren makes will fall heavier on his shoulders.”
Their father frowned deeply enough to carve additional lines into his prematurely aged face. “You plan to use Qiren as a lever, then, and extract concessions for every slight.”
His brother shrugged, almost careless in his arrogance. “If Sect Leader Wen chooses to give me such a handle over him, am I meant to refuse? For all his clever schemes, he is also known to be moody and impulsive, easily lured into rashness…I see an opportunity here, not a trap. You chose to give me responsibility early, to have me help you make our sect stronger, greater; that is what I was born to do. You gave me power and I have done well with it, done exactly what you’ve asked me to do. I’ve made you proud - haven’t I?”
“But what of the risk that Wen Ruohan might ignore public opinion and harm Qiren regardless?” his father pressed, not answering. It wasn’t really necessary, of course; he was always proud of Lan Qiren’s brother, no matter what he did - his eldest son was his treasure, the only thing he cared for; it was as fact as undeniable as the direction in which the sun rose each morning. “The Lan sect does not buy riches with blood.”
“I have thought it over, Father,” his brother said quietly. “It is only a risk that he might be harmed, not a guarantee; it’s not as if I am sending Qiren to the Fire Palace myself. And there is the hope here, not of riches, but of glory for the sect –”
“Glory for the sect?” their father asked, voice rich with meaning Lan Qiren did not understand. “Or for yourself?”
“Are they not one and the same?” Lan Qiren’s brother was unmoved. “In the future, it will be mine, and so there is no difference - whatever you say now, that is what you have always shown me. Besides, Qiren will agree.”
Lan Qiren did not take a step backwards when they turned to look at him, though he dearly wanted to. His hands were still behind his back, gripped tight enough to hurt; he suspected when he looked later on he would find blood beneath his fingernails, dug in deep into his flesh.
“Well?” their father asked of him, though his gaze settled somewhere above Lan Qiren’s head as it always seemed to, as different as night and day from the tender and forgiving looks he gave his eldest son even in the midst of their argument. His voice was so cold that Lan Qiren could feel it against his skin like the bitter winter wind. “What do you say?”
Is it the sale or the price that you object to?
It’s not what is taken, but that it is Wen Ruohan who takes.
Have you thought of any better use to put him to?
His role is to serve the sect.
“I do not see what choice there is,” he said dully, his eyes focused on his father’s face just as his father’s refused to focus on his, foolishly still looking for the affection he knew he would likely never find. In his father’s mind, he had only one son – even his objections on Lan Qiren’s behalf, however mild, were nothing more than what he would have said on behalf of any Lan sect disciple. Even Lan Qiren, foolish and bad at people as he was, could see that his father’s primary concern over the approach his brother had suggested was its potential impact on the reputation of his brother and his sect. “I swore an oath. Even if I do not remember it, as a matter of personal honor, I will not allow myself to be foresworn.”
“There,” his brother said, his voice rich in satisfaction. “You see? The choice is made. It is only what we do with it now that matters.”
Lan Qiren bit his lower lip to keep himself from doing something stupid, like asking do either of you care about me at all.
“Very well,” their father said indifferently. “Then it will be as you say. Qiren.”
“Father.”
“You will spend the night kneeling in the ancestral hall to consider the consequences of violating the prohibition against alcohol and the injunction to maintain your discipline. In view of the circumstances, no other punishment will be imposed.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“Dismissed.”
As Lan Qiren left, he heard his father ask his brother to tell him about the riding competition.
He did not ask about music.
#mdzs#lan qiren#qingheng-jun#wen ruohan#sect leader nie#sect leader lan#my fic#my fics#spilled pearls
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Between Regulations and Protocols
Part 1/?
Pairing: Thrawn x OC
m/f pairing
Rating: Teen
Warnings: bit of angst, introductions to characters and story.
Taglist: none yet. If you want to be tagged in future chapters, feel free to DM me or comment on this chapter.
It wasn’t as though she could have prevented this disaster. However, there were certainly moments which, in hindsight, could have been changed just by thinking through a decision with a wiser mind. By now, it was much too late, and the mess left in front of Ceka was as regrettable as it was dangerous.
For her at least, this was dangerous. She hadn’t meant for it to get so out of hand. As far as she was concerned one or two of the indulgences she allowed herself were fine. It was when these “indulgences” became so regular they might as well be the rule, that it began to be a problem.
Every time Ceka gave herself that allowance, every rule in the book ran through her head, making sure that none were being broken. As far as the book was concerned, crushing this hard on a superior was not forbidden so long as it was not acted upon and the individual in question’s work is not compromised.
There were rules for relationships. Probably because Ceka’s current predicament was not uncommon. Especially when one was serving under an officer as respectful and intelligent as Grand Admiral Thrawn. Feelings happened, and rules were in place. And while rules were not broken, Ceka could snake her way around them without even so much as bending them.
It was necessary with her situation. Long before she was ever harboring feelings for the Grand Admiral, Ceka had to claw her way to the top as a Togruta in a system that was clearly designed to cut those like her down.
Perhaps that was what drew her to Grand Admiral Thrawn in the first place. As shallow and rude as it sounded, him being a non-human, thriving in such a rigged system was astounding to Ceka. She knew first-hand what it takes just to get out of the academy in one piece. It took bone, blood, and tears just to get to her current position. It was probably another level of hell in reality to get to a position where people took orders from him instead of having to fight for enough recognition to be respected as a living being.
Of course the first thing she did when assigned as an ISB consultant on The Chimera was to do her research on her superior. Even if he wasn’t such a sight for sore eyes, she would have looked into him, just to get a map of the territory she was treading on. Ceka had served under her fair share of slimy bastards and downright war criminals.
Much to her surprise, he was almost spotless. A court marshall, but it wasn’t a severe offense, at least not to her. Above all else, nobody had anything very malicious to say about working under him. There were plenty of people who were conflicted, taking orders from a non-human. However, the vast majority of people, even Stormtroopers, had relatively nice things to say about working under him.
What they did say was that Grand Admiral Thrawn was a rather imposing presence. He ran a seamless ship, left little room for error so long as the crew did their work. It was said he was a ruthless strategist, which didn’t surprise Ceka in the slightest considering what she had read of him. He was intimidating, but very few had any elaboration on that comment. She didn’t see for herself until she was called into his office the next day. Ceka hadn’t the slightest idea of what he wanted.
Entering his office was damn near surreal. Ceka hadn’t met anyone in Imperial High Command that held such a collection of art. And especially not such a diverse lineup either. Everything from a Mirialan statuette of a goddess she couldn’t name, to a segment of a durasteel wall covered corner-to-corner in generations of graffiti, to a Clone’s painted helmet from the war it was so known for. The Grand Admiral, himself, was nowhere to be found.
Right away, this struck Ceka as odd. The art was the lesser of two analyses in her mind. She had been called over her wrist comm to meet Grand Admiral Thrawn in his office, where he is not currently present. If it were a prank from a superior officer for some hazing she was too familiar with, then it would have been a better move to call her here while the admiral was present. If it was indeed the admiral that sent for her, then there was a reason for this.
In interrogation, making the suspect wait was a tactic to put them on edge. And if that was the admiral’s goal, then it was working. But it wouldn’t do well to leave an unknown individual in your office, especially since she knew it was more than likely that he knew she was looking him up as soon as she got here. Letting her in here without supervision was a foolish move.
Unless of course, she wasn’t unsupervised.
Keeping her wits about her, Ceka began walking around the office, carefully observing everything in the room. To anyone watching, it would look more like she was admiring all the art on display, when in reality, she was scanning over every surface in search of anything that might be a recording device. If it’s sending a live feed, then it’ll be in something that can easily conceal wires or large enough and shaped well enough to hide an antenna to transmit the data to a screen somewhere.
She mentally cleared a random painting, and the durasteel graffiti wall. A few of the sculptures could barely fit enough material in them to remain standing, so those were cleared too. The Mirialan statuette was too small to hide anything. And it would be easy to see the mechanisms of a recording device inside.
More suddenly than Ceka would have liked, she stopped dead in her tracks. She turned to the clone helmet. She felt stupid as soon as she noticed it; this particular helmet was outfitted with a recorder by its visor. They were used to record and review battlefield footage in the Clone War. The antenna on the helmet and the device itself fit the categories to send live feed to a holoscreen somewhere. “Very subtle, Grand Admiral. I wish I had noticed sooner, but if you were looking to challenge me, you certainly did a good job.”
A door on the side of the office hissed open, revealing the man that set up this whole charade. “Not one new crew member has deduced the design of the test until now. Most giving in to impatience long before they attempt to find reason.”
“You do this with every new crew member?” She asked.
“Everyone assigned to The Chimera ranked Lieutenant or higher.” He said. “However, as mentioned, you are the first to realize you were being observed. Let alone to find the device I was watching from.”
Ceka wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about that. She was half certain he was complimenting her, but there was also a chance he was just thinking out loud about what he had observed. “Seeing as I am an ISB agent, and in charge of interrogation, I would hope I know my way around observation tactics.”
“You have found a place where your talents are put to good use.” He said, “However, I do find myself rather curious about you.”
Ceka moved to the space in front of his desk as he moved behind it to take something out of one of the drawers. "I'm more than happy to answer any questions you have." She said.
"I will keep that in mind." He noted, pulling something up in the holoprojector. It was just about every file The Empire kept on her. Every mission, every report, every personal file, and even her academy registration. "Much like yourself, I did my research when you were assigned to The Chimera. I must say, your talents are exemplary, yet based on the impression you made when faced with my test, your files do not add up."
Clearly the lack of reaction from her made him all the more interested. In truth, she expected he might say that. "What specifically do you want to know?"
"Agent Lo, I am no stranger to the ruthless ends humans will go to in order to assure they are not upstaged by someone they deem less than themselves." He cut in. "Yet you have managed to reach your current rank without any recorded incident. Not even so much as uniform code violation marres your record."
"I consider myself an upstanding agent." She said, as though to tell him respectfully to get to the point.
"Then tell me, Agent, why is it you actively dull any record of your success?"
"Sir?"
"I understand the need to blend in with your peers." He continued, "However every record that mentions an accomplishment of yours has been buried in unnecessary details; even your own reports follow this pattern."
Ceka could feel her throat tighten and her face heat as Thrawn observed her carefully as though he could see through her skin. He was indeed as intimidating as everyone had said. She had said she was willing to answer whatever questions he had, and now she wished she hadn't said that.
She forced herself to relax. "You said it yourself. I need to blend in with my peers. And you know better than anyone else what they're willing to do to cut me down should I rise above them." Ceka explained. "It's a method of survival, that is all. Remaining at the average minimizes the harassment I receive."
Thrawn considered her words. "Why minimize it?" He asked. "It would be far easier to simply retire from military service."
A small smile graced her face. There was so much more to her than just self preservation. "Because retiring is not my goal, sir."
"What is your goal, agent?"
There was the right question. "To make my home planet whole again." She answered without hesitation. "The Galactic Empire has redistributed the population of Shili to only major cities and tribes they had the ability to commit troops to. My tribe was among the many to be forced off their ancestral territory. My goal is to climb ISB ranks until I can bring to light that it is more dangerous to The Empire to force Togrutas off their homeland than to commit minimal troops to the smaller tribes."
"A noble cause, Agent Lo." He noted. "I have come to a decision. I expect you to take full credit for every successful assignment I give you. Should I find in any of your reports that you belittle your role in the accomplishment, the report will be rejected, and I will require a new one."
"Ah- sir, I-"
"That will be all, Agent Lo, you are dismissed."
Ceka opened her mouth to speak again, but the rulebook went through her head again. Disobeying orders was an offence one could be court marshalled for. But voicing disagreements were not prohibited, even though any officer would find a way to punish you for questioning orders.
However here, Ceka would risk it. "Indulge me for one more minute, sir." She all but demanded, causing him to once again pay close attention to her. "I understand what you're doing. You want me to step up; to be something greater than I am. Because after hearing what I am trying to accomplish, you believe you have a better strategy than I do."
Her words caught him off guard. She didn't give him enough time to recover before she continued. "I acknowledge that I probably don't have the best strategy. However, if you are going to require me to bend to your plan for my own life, then you're going to need a better strategy to get me to follow along." Ceka held her head high, and hid her nerves behind a strong voice. "Because if there is anything I know you have learned from your test and our minimal interactions, it is that I am patient, especially when I am being beat down and discarded."
"This is your way of telling me you do not intend to abandon your methods?" He inquired.
"This is my way of showing you the merits of my methods." She clarified. "And hopefully, I will change your mind."
Thrawn scanned her face once again, coming to some unknown conclusion. "It is unwise to reveal your end goal to the enemy."
Ceka offered a modest smile. "You are not my enemy, sir."
With that, she turned on her heel and made her way out the door. Ceka's heart raced and she had to make a solid effort to slow her breathing. Right then she promised herself that arguing with him would be forbidden from there on out. That was far too dangerous, and it was a miracle Thrawn hadn't cut her off and refused to hear her out. He could have her off The Chimera by morning. But even then she knew that this was an empty promise.
-X-
As it turns out, eighty-four was the magical number of rejected reports before Grand Admiral Thrawn finally gives in and calls you into his office to renegotiate the terms of his orders. It took twenty-eight days to reach this point. Every day, she would eat her meals and write out a new report to the same mission, even if Thrawn had yet to notify her that the last one was rejected. Ceka stood in front of his desk once again, as he flipped through all eighty-four reports on the holoprojector.
It was one single mission. An investigation into disappearing medical supplies from a medicenter on Pantora, that Ceka had figured out pretty quickly. But every single one of them was worded to shine the light of success into anyone other than her.
Thrawn must have been looking for something in the reports, but he was coming up empty handed. It was another brief moment before he shut off the holoprojector. "I admit, I underestimated your talent for persistence."
She couldn't have been more excited to hear that from him. In all honesty, it was wearing her out. Finding new ways to reword the same events was exhausting. "However, what you have shown me is something I did not expect to find." He said, now slowly walking around his desk to circle her. "My attempt to outsmart you was quickly turned into a challenge to outlast you. However, it has answered more questions about you than I could ever ask."
"I am glad the experience was illuminating, sir." She was careful not to appear smug or prideful in any way, even if she was rather proud of herself for this.
"What has come to light is exactly how you managed to remain unseen by those that wish to do you harm, yet impress those that you wish to be more visible to." He explained. "I would like to see you put this to use more often."
"What do you have in mind, sir?"
"To start, I will rescind my orders to take more praise in your reports." Thrawn said, causing Ceka to smile. "In light of your tenacity, I have another duty for you. As it is already one of your many tasks on my ship to assess the officers and troopers for information leaks, I would also like you to send me reports of those who rise above their peers."
Ceka was surprised to receive such a request from him. "Pardon me, sir, but can't you select your elite by looking at the reports yourself?"
"It has occured to me that you are far from the only officer under my command that hides behind their more obnoxious coworkers and modest wording in reports. Unfortunately, due to their efforts, it is difficult to find the more competent workers of my fleet." He explained. "You are in a particularly beneficial position to solve this problem. Seeing as you are not only interacting with the lower ranks of my fleet on a closer level, you also know what to look for in those that possess the same skill set as you."
"It takes one to know one." Ceka chuckled awkwardly, knowing exactly what he meant. Honestly it was a miracle he even saw her point of view at all. Let alone be open to changing his mind and instead giving her an assignment that they both agreed would suit her talents. "I can do that, sir."
"That is much appreciated, agent." Thrawn said, "You are dismissed."
Ceka turned to leave, but she stopped herself. Once again the rules made her hesitate. It might not be professionalism at its best, but she would give herself this allowance. "Oh, grand admiral, sir?"
Thrawn turned to face her once more. He was no longer a stranger to how bold Ceka Lo could be, but this time she wasn't angry. Instead, she smiled kindly. "Thank you. For giving me a chance." It was a split second, so fast she wasn't even sure it was completely real; Thrawn returned with a small percentage of a smile to her.
There was a faster moment that Ceka felt herself take a moment to recover, where her heart stuttered at the sight of him just smiling for a fraction of a second. However it was gone the moment she reminded herself where she was and who he was. "Sir." She nodded with a stern voice, bidding him goodbye before she marched back out the office door.
It was rare a superior gave her the time of day. And so rare to be given respect and a smile that Thrawn was the first to offer after many, many years of serving the Empire. Ceka held onto that image in her mind every time someone would say anything hurtful, or when someone would do something rude. She allowed herself to remember Thrawn gave her a chance to prove herself, and he respected her for it.
There were moments that she stood in his office again, whether it be for a strategy meeting or a PSA for the higher ranked officers, Ceka hoped to whatever god in the galaxy was listening that she might catch another glimpse of his smile.
He smirked quite often, she found. Not that it was very easy to notice those either, but once she was watching, she noticed. It was usually when he was explaining his strategy to his officers that his expressions were slightly more discernible. For the most part, he kept the same even tone, and strong, calculated glare. Red eyes kept up with every little detail going on around him, and Ceka had to wonder exactly which details he noticed.
Really at this point, Ceka found she looked for any reason to be around Thrawn. He was an island of peace in an ocean of exhausting people. But what really made her start to worry was when he probably figured out he was her island.
It was rather chaotic in the aftermath of an attack. The way The Chimera was run made the battle itself run like a well oiled machine. However, trying to get everyone on the same page, especially if there were significant losses, was pretty much hell.
One particular flight officer was being specifically infuriating. She just wanted to know how many TIE fighters they had left. Ceka did not need to know who was flying, and who came back, or why only four fighters could land properly. Cykla went off on another tangent about how they were going to need repairs before she finally cut him off. "Cykla, just tell me how many TIE fighters we have left in the fleet."
Despite her even tone, Ceka had murder on her mind and it must have shown on her face with how he shut up immediately. "Six."
"Great…" She hissed out. "Now I can go to my job and tell the Grand Admiral we need more TIE fighters. You are dismissed, Cykla."
He gave a curt nod, running off to do whatever the hell else he had to to get this ship running at full capacity again. Ceka busied herself punching the numbers into a slow datapad, being on the verge of throwing it against a wall.
"I take it Officer Cykla was being difficult." Thrawn's voice made her jump slightly, but the second her eyes landed on him, she gave a small smile, and she visibly relaxed.
"Just a little slow." Ceka chuckled, still trying to hit the datapad to get the damn number to punch in. "Which seems to be a running theme today."
"Is there something wrong with your datapad, Agent?" He asked.
"I dropped it off the hyperdrive room railing when the ship was first hit. Didn't have the chance to get it back until a few minutes ago, but it looks like a few people might have stepped on it." She explained, knocking it against her montral and hearing something make a pinging sound echo around in her head. That couldn't be a good sign. "Well, that's unfortunate. I have a few nostalgic files on this datapad."
"I am curious of what you might keep on a datapad that one would find nostalgic." He said.
"Oh, it was just a few of the Pantora Medicenter Investigation reports I never got to give you. I kept writing them until you told me I could stop." She shrugged.
"How many reports did you write?" He asked with clear curiosity.
Ceka actually had to think hard for a moment. "You gave up at eighty-four, but I had a few extras on queue. I wrote a total of one-hundred-two reports."
Thrawn usually did a great job of hiding his emotions, but ever since Ceka started paying close attention to him, she began noticing the smallest expressions he gave. Right now his eyes went to the side, as though he had to give himself a moment to process that information. There were eighteen more reports on that one mission. All of them ready to be rejected, where she was ready to write more.
When he did look back to her, Ceka was smiling again, now trying to stop herself from laughing. "Do you find something amusing, Agent Lo?"
She really wished she could say no. Usually when a superior officer asked that question it just meant to stop smiling and take things seriously. However it was not in Thrawn's nature to use many euphemisms or human sayings, so he was genuinely asking. "Yes, sir." She nodded, still smiling as she explained herself. "It's not all that difficult to read your expressions. And when I told you how many reports I had written it was like every gear in your head stopped turning all at once. I thought it looked a little uncharacteristic is all."
Thrawn became more interested in her words. "I have rarely heard that it is easy to read my expressions. In fact most say the exact opposite."
Now it was her turn to stop and think. How in the hells did she hope to explain this to him? Was she supposed to tell Grand Admiral Thrawn that he spent just about every moment of every day hoping to see him, or that if she did get to see him that she carefully watched him in hopes of seeing him smile again? No, that would be very bad. But lying to a superior officer was quite specifically stated in the regulation.
"I'm in ISB. I guess I'm just very good at watching for small details." Both statements were true. She didn't have to tell him that the two statements had little to no correlation in reality or that she was only good at watching him for close details. Everyone else she just knew how to interrogate.
A beat of a moment went by before she caught it. Another split second where he gave a genuine smile, only for it to be gone the next second. The instant that passed by in silence before he answered felt like an eternity. "Indeed you are."
His answer left Ceka more distressed than trying to figure out how to avoid confessing her every private thought to him. Did he know she was hiding something? Did he know all along what she was doing? She wanted answers, but nobody but Thrawn could give them to her. She was all the more terrified of what those answers might be.
Though, it was nice to come back to her cabin late that night to find a new datapad waiting on her desk.
She didn't see Thrawn for a while after that. Not one on one, at least. She would occasionally catch him in the bridge as she was doing rounds with all the stations. Though when Ceka looked over to him out of habit, more often than not, he would already be closely observing her. Every time he did, she would tense up again and focus back on her work.
The heart stopping call came later that week. Thrawn asked to see her in his office once again. She had no idea what this could be about, and nothing about the last week really stood out. And especially not since their awkward conversation.
Though, he didn't waste any time as soon as she entered the art-filled space. Right away, she could tell something was up. Thrawn had never looked so worn out, not even after talking to the lieutenants. "Agent, if you are not currently indisposed, I would appreciate some assistance."
"What do you need?" Ceka asked without hesitation. Either she would get this over with or she would have to prepare herself for a long task.
"There was an incident with a terrorist group on the planet surface this afternoon. Unfortunately, Commander Bengts is on medical leave for the next three weeks, and since you and I are the only officers left with the clearance and skills necessary to review the reports, we are the only ones to be able to complete the processing." He explained.
"Would these usually just go into filing? Unless there's something specifically abnormal about this incident?" Thrawn had already sent the reports to her datapad.
"Yes. According to several eyewitness accounts, an imperial officer was seen giving information and weapons to three of the attackers just before it began."
Ceka took a long breath, calming her nerves. It didn't help that she was already on shaky ground with Thrawn as she was still questioning if he was aware of her growing fondness for him. Good thing endurance was her specialty, otherwise she would have given up the first time he smiled at her.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she came to her choice. "This probably means they're waiting on some kind of information to pass on. They're not yet ready for a full attack, which is why they simply aided the terrorists and didn't blow their cover. By your estimation, how long do we have before such an informant gets their hands on severely damaging information?"
"Depending on their rank, approximately two days. In the next fifty hours, I will be receiving a transmission from the Imperial headquarters on the surface to account for the current number of troopers on guard and officers working." He answered.
Ceka took her datapad and began searching through the reports. "The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can sleep." She said. "Unfortunately, time is not something we have the luxury of."
-X-
-Thrawn-
"Let us start with who was present on the ground during the attack-"
"No, we need to start with who exactly these terrorists are, and what they were doing. What was their mission? How did they accomplish it? Where did they escape to after its completion? Or if they completed their mission at all." Ceka interjected. "We've been here on Wutellou for about a standard month. Start with the locals. What do we know about them as a people?"
Her interruption surprised him to say the least. To be completely honest, she hadn't ever stopped surprising him. However, Ceka had the right approach to the problem. He was certain she would just let him take the lead, but it was becoming increasingly clear that despite her near religious commitment to subtlety, when it came to him she was anything but reserved the way she was with everyone else. It was easy to see why Agent Ceka Lo had captured Thrawn's attention.
"Tellouans are a very spiritual people. They also place most of their values into unity and connection to one another and their planet." He explained. "The population seems to worship the ground, as a way of giving respect to the very thing that gives them the vegetation they grow for food and spiritual practices."
"That… sounds awfully familiar."
"I imagine it would." He said, pulling up a few sources on his holoprojector. "Watellou shares many similarities with your homeworld, Shili."
"However, they're largely vegetarians, from what I can gather. There aren't many animals big enough to eat on Watellou." Ceka noted, in a somewhat short tempered way. "So, they probably aren't as culturally focused on hunting as my people."
Thrawn noted how she grumbled about the lack of meat on the planet. It had occurred to him that Togrutas were carnivores, and unable to eat most of the food served in the mess. Though, he did make sure she wasn't starving, even though there wasn't a whole lot of good food for Ceka to eat. "You did say they hold a deep connection to their planet." She recalled. "So, it would be a fair assumption that they don't want the Imperial agricultural project on their planet, since it is so sacred to them."
"That is logical, yes." He agreed. "Which means their attacks are not likely to be carried out on a large scale, so as not to harm the ground."
"Let's take a look at the reports." She turned to her datapad, connecting it with the holoprojector. "The report of the soldier that saw what type of weapons were being smuggled said they were E-11 blaster rifles. However weapons were not the only thing given to the insurgents."
"The inventory report after the attack states several crates of empty gas canisters were also missing." Thrawn pointed out. "An attack utilizing poison gas would assure the land attacked would not be harmed."
One look to Ceka proved she was enjoying herself while digging for information. "Guess what the most poisonous plant on Watellou is." A smile cracked across her cheeks as she pulled an info file of a simple flower onto the projector. "The Osella blossom is a flower that is only found in the very few coniferous forests on Watellou. The one closest to where the supply warehouse was attacked is owned by a local businessman, who employs many people to gather these flowers. Oddly enough, four days ago, he reported that a large portion of his freshly picked flowers had gone missing."
Thrawn looked over the file on the flowers. "Only the roots are poisonous. The flower petals are dried and used for a tea that is very popular among the locals. Boiling the roots will secrete a poisonous gas known as Lesurra gas." He read. "We know the insurgents are planning a large gas attack. More than likely on the Imperial command center that has been established."
"So we know what they want, how they plan to do it, and because of the information you will be getting in the next two days, we know when they plan to do it." Ceka concluded. "Now we just need to figure out who is planning to leak that information to them."
"Now we must narrow down the list of suspects based on reports." He said. Ceka took a deep breath, finding a seat on his desk as she began reading through reports.
The low light of the holoprojector illuminated her more now that she was seated right next to it. The blue light did little to change the tone of her skin. It was rare that Thrawn met many Togrutas in his line of work, however, even Ceka was certainly something of a rare specimen of her species.
When Thrawn was researching her, he found that the specific shades of light blue that showed on her skin were only found in two clans of the Lo Tribe, and nowhere else on Shili. Ceka had a very soft appearance. Her age wasn't shown anywhere other than the length of her lekku, which placed her perhaps a year or two younger than himself. Her montrals rounded backward off her head and spiked back up like horns. The patterns across her skin were soft, bubbled shapes that spread all around like water.
But it didn't take a military genius to know she was so much more vicious than her appearance suggested. Particularly her deep violet eyes, that scanned everything as though it could give her something if she just convinced it of such. Ceka bit her lip in focus on the task at hand. She was quite brilliant, even if she was convinced her only talents were in enduring brutal treatment. Thrawn wanted nothing more than to show her that she had other talents that could help her never see such brutal treatment ever again.
In some ways Thrawn noticed Ceka's favor of him, though usually only through her demeanor. It confused him how she could manage to be both comfortable expressing herself to him and rigid the second he acknowledged her comfort.
In many ways, Thrawn saw himself being drawn to her. He rarely bothered to know his subordinates more than basic research, and in truth, Ceka was one of only seven people to ever peak his interest enough to give them the test she passed with such ease. Her response had only heightened his curiosity of her character. Even this was an opportunity for him to learn more about her. And every time he learned something new, his interest only grew.
This was indeed going to be a long night.
-X-
It had been nearly eight hours. Four a.m. galactic standard time. Every report from the warehouse had been looked through, and even people that weren't planetside had been looked into. Nothing looked even remotely suspicious.
"I don't suppose you've already ruled out the possibility that they had someone impersonate an officer?" Ceka asked with a dragging voice. She laid on her back on Thrawn's desk, staring up at the holograms that still hadn't given them a lead.
"You ruled that out three hours ago." He reminded her. "If I recall correctly, you said a Tellouan with a skin color and texture similar to a human's would be more rare than finding one with horns small enough to fit into an officer's uniform. I also agreed, stating that using an infiltrator would not guarantee they would be able to get the information they need for their attack."
"You're right." Ceka groaned, rubbing her eyes again. "Either way, we're running out of time. Forty-seven hours to find a traitor with no leads is damn near impossible."
"You say 'near impossible.' Is there something you believe would make the task at hand possible?" He asked.
"The ability to drink three gallons of caf in a minute would be helpful." She said, "More people to look through the reports would be useful. Many hands make for light work, after all, but alerting our subordinates that there is a traitor amidst them is too high of a risk. I think it's impossible to find the culprit in time with only two people."
Thrawn was impressed with Ceka in the eight hours they had spent together theorizing and even arguing at times. However, he would admit he would have never gotten this far on his own, this fast. Most of the investigation is credited to Ceka. It was his job to help her investigate, then come up with a plan once they had found their traitor.
"Agent, you are an exemplary investigator. If there is anyone that can accomplish this in the given timeframe, it is you." He said.
Suddenly, Ceka sat up. About a million thoughts looked to be passing behind her eyes before she settled on one. "Timeframe…." Her voice was quiet, as she once again took control of the holoprojector, still sitting on his desk. "We're looking at the wrong timeframe."
She pulled up personnel files from everyone who was planetside for the last four days. "Remember, four days ago, the report of a missing batch of Osella flowers was given by a local businessman?" She asked. "We know his own employee probably stole them, right?"
"That was the logical conclusion, yes." Thrawn agreed.
"First, what if the traitor isn't working alone?"
"Then I suppose only half of the information would be present in the reports of the warehouse attack. The other half would be with someone we have already ruled out, thus making it impossible for us to find the culprits on those reports, alone." He reasoned. "Who do you suspect?"
"Four days ago, Commander Bengts was hospitalized. The morning after the Osella flower batch went missing." Ceka explained with a smile on her face, searching for a minute before pulling up the commander's medical file.
Thrawn read the file thoroughly before landing on something that Ceka must have known would be there by the way she smiled. "Reason for hospitalization: Toxin inhalation." He read out loud.
He turned to Ceka once again, only to find her still smiling. "We can order a test for the Osella toxin and have the results in the next two hours."
"That only leaves her accomplice." Thrawn noted, searching through the reports again to see which officer specifically has been stationed with Commander Bengts for their assignment to Watellou. One name stuck out. "Supply Officer Cykla was planetside, stationed at the warehouse during the attack." He pointed out. "Cykla was also the officer that filled out the inventory report of what was stolen. And has also been assigned to the command center tomorrow to report inventory, where he will have access to the transmissions being sent from the command center."
Ceka placed her feet on the ground, standing tall, but a little wobbly from the sleep deprivation. "Shall I set up interrogations, sir?"
"No need." He ordered. "I will give the order to have Commander Bengts tested for the Osella toxin, and I shall reassign Officer Cykla to accompany me to organize the information from the command center. He will be forced to abandon his original plan and act in panic, giving us the evidence we need to incriminate him."
"I can help, sir. You don't need to carry this out alone." She was nearly pleading even if she could keep it behind a thin layer of professionalism.
"I am sure you can offer your skills to the mission. However you are sleep deprived, and until you are well rested, you would be unnecessarily placing yourself in harm's way if you were to continue like this." Thrawn reasoned. "As of now, you are relieved of duty until you have recovered."
"But, sir-"
"That is an order, Agent Lo." His voice became stern, but as he watched Ceka, she appeared to halted all cognitive thought as she suppressed a shiver. Thrawn noticed how her face became hot and the muscles around her throat tightened. He was unaware that Togrutas not only blushed on their face, but also their lekku.
Ceka had to force herself to breath again. "Yes, sir." Was all she could get out from behind tense muscles and a figure frozen in place.
"You are dismissed."
She marched off in a hurry, though Thrawn didn't get the impression that she was scared at all. In fact she seemed to be enjoying herself quite a bit.
Thrawn decided to focus on the task at hand. He had just barely learned the nuances of human behavior, he didn't have the time to figure out what made Ceka tick before his command center was eradicated.
-X-
-Ceka Lo-
After Thrawn had commanded her to get some sleep, Ceka was having a surprising amount of difficulty letting go of consciousness. There was a lot to process, particularly about how the entire night had gone.
She hadn't meant to so casually sit on his desk, though when he didn't stop her or even mention it, Ceka allowed herself to get comfortable. They had started the night speaking with formalities, though as time progressed and exhaustion began to take hold, she began interrupting him when she felt like it, as he would for her. She swore a few times without any shame. When she laid down on his desk, he didn't say anything. She took every liberty, and Thrawn gave them without any question.
But at the very end of it all, the order he gave her wasn't what surprised her. It was her own reaction to how he spoke. Heat shot up her spine and she stood at complete attention. What shocked her was that she honestly didn't expect to be given an order, despite everything Ceka had drilled into her head from day one at the academy. Somehow, she felt comfortable enough around Thrawn that it was a surprise when he did normal, imperial, things.
Though, even then Ceka knew this could only be the beginning of something terrible.
-X-
Somehow she managed to pass out after an hour. When she awoke again, everything appeared to be working smoothly. No trooper was out of place, no officer looked worried, and all was as though Ceka never fell asleep in the first place. Though, a quick look at her wrist chrono told her it had been nearly six hours.
Walking through corridors to Thrawn's office, she found something must be working well. There were two troopers standing guard instead of just one. "I take it Cykla is in there?"
"Yes sir." The command trooper confirmed. The other flinched when he spoke. Suddenly the other trooper was very interesting.
"Is something bothering you, trooper?" Ceka asked with a warm smile. She wasn't ignorant of her appearance. She was rather soft looking, and it was easy for people to underestimate her or trust her. Most people she interrogated were more likely to trust a non-human because of how rare they were in the Empire.
The trooper stood firmly at attention. "No sir." There was something off about his voice. Though, with two words, it was difficult to place.
"It's ok to be anxious. I'm sure anyone would be worried once they wondered why the grand admiral doubled the security in his office." She suggested. The trooper must have been eyeing her cautiously behind his helmet.
"I assure you, I'm fine sir." He said. Now Ceka could place it.
"You won't be." Before he could even flinch, she knocked the blaster out of his hand and rammed his head into the wall. The command trooper aimed his gun at the two of them, unsure as to what was going on. "At ease, soldier." She said, taking the helmet off the unconscious criminal, revealing dark green skin, and very small horns for one of his kind. "He was probably back up."
"How did you know?"
"His Tellouan accent." She said, restraining the prisoner. "Now I just need to see what his plan was. Take him to containment. I'll stand guard here."
"Yes, sir." He replied faithfully, throwing the infiltrator over his shoulder and carrying him away. Ceka pulled her blaster out, and set it to stun, now waiting for Cykla to make a break for it.
A loud crash came from inside the office, and the door hissed open. She stunned Cykla as soon as she laid eyes on him. Thrawn looked between Ceka and the man on the floor with mild amusement. "May I set up interrogations now, sir?"
Thrawn calmly caught his breath, wiping some of the blood off his cheek. "Yes, Agent Lo, that would be the wisest course of action."
...
Thrawn and Ceka stood together, watching the live feed from the two interrogation rooms, waiting for Cykla to regain consciousness. The Tellouan infiltrator nervously fiddled with the cuffs on his wrists, probably trying to find a way to break them off.
"Commander Bengts tested positive for the Osella toxin." Thrawn said, "She has been placed under arrest, but is still recovering."
"We'll need more evidence if we want to convict her. Getting one of these two to admit she's an accomplice should be enough, but I am not confident they'll talk for anything short of their freedom." She noted, looking at the two of them. Cykla was now gaining consciousness, frantically looking around the room and struggling against the restraints.
"Perhaps striking a deal with them is necessary."
Something was finding Ceka rather uncomfortably, and she wanted nothing more than to tear it apart to find out what exactly made it that way. It was Officer Cykla. He's panicking and struggling far too much for someone that had a decent plan until now.
"Perhaps not." She said, exiting the observation room and entering the interrogation.
-Thrawn-
Cykla was quick to stop moving as soon as Ceka entered the room. She didn't say anything as she sat down on the table to his left.
Thrawn couldn't see much from here, yet at the very least he could tell she wasn't trying to be imposing. She reached across the table and released his restraints, sitting back on the table comfortably and without any sign of defensiveness.
She was waiting for something. Pushing this man to the edge of something, but waiting for him to jump off on his own. Ceka remained silent. From the angle of the holorecorder, Thrawn couldn't see her face, but he almost intrinsically knew she was giving her subject a kind smile.
The silence must have become unbearable to the human. "What do you want, Lo?"
"I thought you'd never ask." She said, "You see, a witness at the scene of the attack yesterday saw you aiding the terrorists in their escape, but there's something that's gone completely unanswered, and I want you to give it to me."
"I'm not about to turn on my allies." He hissed back at her.
"Oh- no you aren't. Certainly not yet." She said, "At least not without a reason to. I happen to be in a position to get you just a year of community service, and a dishonorable discharge from the Imperial Navy. Where you can live out the rest of your life doing whatever you want."
"And what in the hells makes you think I value myself over my cause?"
"Why shouldn't you?" She asked as though she were genuinely concerned. "I've seen how much value your life has. And I believe it's worth more than being executed on a treason charge." Cykla broke eye contact and stared at the floor. "I'm not a fool enough to believe you don't have people you're doing this for. Wouldn't it be better to go home and see them again?"
Cykla came to his conclusion quickly. "I want to negotiate those terms." He said.
"Then negotiate."
"I tell you who my associate is, and I take the blame for everything." He said, "Everything was my idea, and she was forced to take orders from me. She gets to live."
"Cykla, you will be executed for this."
"But she won't." He stated. "I want this agreement in writing. So you can't back out after I'm gone."
"Your accomplice must mean quite a lot to you." Ceka noted.
"She is everything and more to me." He said.
Ceka stood from the table and exited the interrogation chamber. Making her way back to the observation room where Thrawn was waiting for her.
She was clearly torn by the situation. She began tapping through her datapad.
"What are you looking for?" Thrawn asked.
"Commander Bengts' medical record." She said, "I have a strong suspicion about why Cykla is so desperate to protect her."
"And why would that be?" Thrawn asked, curious about what Ceka saw that he missed.
Suddenly she stopped scrolling, her shoulders deflating in defeat. Handing the datapad to him, she pinched the bridge of her nose and leaned against the wall, perhaps in regret.
Thrawn looked at the data on the medical file. It was a few pages after the tox screen results, so it wasn't important at the time they were initially investigating. However, it was possibly the most important piece of information in the whole investigation. "She's pregnant."
Ceka nodded. Now it made more sense why she was so torn on this decision. "Tell me I'm being too soft." Her voice held strong, but the tensity in her muscles said otherwise about her emotions. "Tell me we should just execute them both, and move on with our lives. That it's better to just manipulate his confession and charge them both with treason like every other officer would."
"Do you truly believe that to be the wisest course of action in this case?" Thrawn asked.
"I want to believe it is in my best interest."
"Yet you are still questioning it."
"By Imperial Law, I need a confession from him to charge her. But if he doesn't confess to her being an accomplice, then there's nothing I can do, and at most she'll be medically discharged." Ceka went through her thought process. "Either way, Cykla is going to be charged with treason. There's no way I can get around that."
"Then perhaps you don't want him to give up Bengts." Thrawn suggested. "She will be medically discharged, and you don't live with that on your conscience."
"I can't allow Imperial Law to be determined by the weight on my conscience." She argued.
"Then don't allow it." He stated.
"It'll be a failed interrogation on my near flawless record."
"Attempting to rationalize the less favorable option will not help you make the decision you have already made."
Ceka bit her lip and closed her eyes. She took a moment to take a deep breath before neutralizing her expression and leaving to speak to Cykla again.
On the holoscreen, Ceka stood to her full height. "We will not abide by such an agreement for your accomplice."
"You what!?" Cykla burst. "You can't! She has to live!"
"It will take more investigation, but I am confident that I can find a name without your help." She calmly exited the room as Cykla struggled against the handcuffs.
Ceka didn't return to the observation room.
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@failedvenatori said: Picture this: Orsino is a ballet dancer in a 19th-century-esque setting (and perhaps a vampire in secret because you know!).
One day, he receives the following letter:
Kindest sir,
You do not know me, yet I myself have followed the exquisite blossoming of your talent for many a month. I dare say that there is scarcely a performance of yours that I have failed to attend. Your craft, wrought to unimaginable heights, just as the inner radiance of your person, has been a source of solace for me at a time of great personal tragedy.
As you may have glimpsed in the papers, a certain while ago, the carriage that ought to have brought my wife and son to our estate was waylaid by highwaymen, who dared employ lethal weapons. While long since dispatched as befits the nature of their crime, the hienous bandits still caused irreparable damage. My wife succumbed to her wounds nigh instantly, and my son, disturbed by the unconventional (yet efficacious!) medicine which I employed to nurse him back to health, has regrettably withdrawn all contact with me, and I know not his current whereabouts, or his occupation in the life that has been returned to him.
I am thus left a lonely, dejected man, bereft of all joy save for the fortune of beholding you as you bedazzle the theatre, night after night. I have planned to remain anonymous, content merely to send you bouquets of flowers, which, no matter how lavish I attempt to make them, still pale in comparison to the living miracle that is your admirable self. Yet as of late, I have been filled with a profound longing for your company - beyond the riveting performances that I have so often been blessed with. You may find this declaration too bold, perhaps even improper, in which case I will humbly apologize and bid you adieu. But, if you should ever find within your heart to forgive me this intrusion, might I perhaps ask you to dine with me?
Please leave your response with the man who brought you this letter. A simple yes or no will suffice, to save your doubtlessly precious time.
Thank you again for all the delight that you have bestowed upon me.
I remain humbly at your feet,
Your admirer and servant,
Lord Gereon Alexius
Two days later, a letter awaits in Alexius’ mailbox. The envelope bears no indication of the sender and its wax seal bears no sigil, albeit it is of a distinct black color. The letter in itself, however, is penned and folded menticulously, and says the following:
Lord Alexius,
It is not often that I receive letters, and even less often that they manage to make an impression; however the manner of yours as well as your unusual request, moved me deeply. You are doubtlessly aware of my monolectic answer, since you asked that I give it to the man who brought me your letter; I, however, elected to take the liberty of sending you this letter in advance of our rendez-vous, for you opened your heart to me -a stranger, thus I find it appropriate that I do the same. Besides, how else are two men supposed to dine together if one does not know anything on the other’s whereabouts?
Indeed, the incident you mentioned did not slip my attention; I remember reading about it in the papers -in much grizzly detail, unfortunately. It seems that human suffering and the preservation of one’s dignity do not matter when they make good news titles, as I have observed many times over the years. Your loss was a tragedy, -and even more so, an injustice; for even though the culprits paid for their crimes, what is lost can seldom return. As someone who is no stranger to tragedy, you have my sincere condolences; as well as -if I may- a piece of old wisdom I stumbled across: if there’s life, there’s possibility. I can only hope your son learns the truth of this statement as I have.
I must admit that I cannot fathom the reason why you, a distinguished individual no doubt, would seek my company; therefore I feel obliged to warn you in advance: If you think of me as some sort of fairytale being like the roles I impersonate suggest, you might be sorely disappointed. I am by no means a living miracle. Underneath all that stage makeup and frivolous outfits I am but a simple man with a simple life; who detests the drama surrounding his profession and whose art is but a way to forget the harsh realities of life and enact what is too afraid to endeavour. When put across like this, I suppose we do not differ much; after all we both remain admirers of the wonder that art is.
That being said, I look foward to our meeting, and I can only hope that my company will not fail your expectations and will perhaps alleviate some of your suffering, if only for a while.
Until then, I remain,
Respectfully yours,
~O.
#orsino speaks#alexius#failedvenatori#rp#modern thedas verse#19th century au#ballet dancer!orsino#vampire!orsino
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en route II - [ doc x lion ]
posted on ao3 as aIIegro (capital i’s in username)
word count: 2.2k
a/n: it’s shorter than the last chapter, but i really wanted to put this one out lol. ALSO IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED IN FUTURE TAGS, SEND ME AN ASK OR MESSAGE !!!!
Much like the eye of a hurricane, serenity came from deep inside Olivier as he stepped into the pristine, dimly lit office. It was much less luxurious than Gustave’s office area at the infirmary. Mounds of finished paperwork crowded the right side of his desk, but the enormous pile of unfinished work loomed above the rest of the cluttered space. It was almost cartoonish. The fluorescent lights overhead gave the cramped room a dingy look and made Gustave appear gaunt and even more tired than usual. Apart from the white lab coat hanging from a hook behind him, the walls were rather sparse. A small wooden cabinet tucked in the far corner had a cluster of small, well cleaned picture frames, filled with people Olivier couldn’t quite see or recognize. Not looking up from his rapid typing, the doctor flipped a page in a file and asked in his heavily accented voice, “Who’s there?”
“It’s Olivier,” Lion said hoarsely, still strangely calm. The storm of rapid fire thoughts had greatly subsided, leaving him stranded with no coherent train of thought. He ignored Doc’s darkened gaze that pierced a part of his soul and radiated suspicion.
“What do you want—”
“I brought you coffee.” Weakly offering the sad, still steaming cup, Lion fought valiantly to soften his neutral expression. Almost a smile.
“I see” was Gustave’s response. His tone was emotionless and steady, but he couldn’t hide the curious glint in his typically stoic eyes. Lion’s behaviour was absurd, to say the least. In fact, it was quite the opposite of his normal self; he was actually rather amiable. Gustave couldn’t just swear him out like usual when Olivier wasn’t even doing anything to provoke him. “Merci beaucoup.” Standing up, he reached over his desk as Olivier handed him the cup.
“You like espresso still, right?” Shifting his weight onto one leg, Lion leaned against the doorframe and tried to gauge the medic’s reaction.
“I...yes, I do,” Doc responded, his voice slightly strained. Immense confusion raged inside his mind, leaving the doctor with a surplus of unanswered questions. “You remembered?” Sipping carefully, he kept his eyes on Olivier, still unsure of how to respond to the sudden act of kindness.
“Oui.” Olivier’s murmured reply was almost too soft for Gustave to hear. Doc remained silent as he sat, both looking and not looking at the other operator. Lion was internally celebrating his first little win, waiting for the other man to dismiss him. His shoelaces have never seemed more interesting, and he was suddenly aware of the lint on his pants.
“Are you going to sit down or not?” Motioning with his free hand, Gustave nodded at a single, tiny plastic chair across from him, giving Olivier an owlish look.
Shocked, he sat down quickly and without objection. He couldn’t have been more surprised by the vicissitude of Doc’s attitude towards him. What do I do? Lion was in a panic, and Gustave could tell, even if he himself was just as clueless. Both were equally lost. Neither could figure out the motivations of the other, and the proximity without toxicity laid the first, pitifully small, stepping stone in a bridge that could remedy the divide between each other. Olivier was still driven by the mysterious yearning for something less like forgiveness and more like a compromise, a treaty. Or at least, he thought he was. Neither spoke until Gustave had finished his coffee and did some finishing touches on one of the folders of work he had completed.
“Was it alright?” Olivier, anxious once more, squirmed a little in his seat and tried to read Gustave's expression. The doctor pushed the finished folder aside and looked at him, his expression void of emotion.
“It was.” In truth, it was too sweet for him, but Olivier had always been one to put in too much sugar. He puts sugar on his buttered toast, Doc suddenly remembered, a pang of nostalgia running through him. He brushed it off.
Taking advantage of the peaceful waters between them, Gustave asked, “What do you want?”
“I…” Olivier started. “I wanted to talk.”
“About?”
“Us. Or at least, what happened in Africa—“
“Get out.” It was abrupt, to say the least. Suddenly guarded, Gustave looked...odd. There was something different about his normally neutral expression. His eyes? Lion didn’t fail to notice how Doc glanced at the picture frames beside him. Was he still bitter over his colleague? Who was it?
“What?” He was surprised. Didn’t Gustave want to get along with him? Was Gilles lying? “Kateb—“
“Leave.”
“I—“
“Now.” Gustave was glaring holes into his own hands, clasped tightly on top of his desk, not meeting Olivier’s eyes.
In the blink of an eye, Olivier found himself outside the tiny office, the door slamming behind him. Even through the haze of confusion and slight anger, Olivier could tell that Gustave didn’t act out of hatred; he was nursing a wound deep inside him. Lion couldn’t understand why, though. Still in shock, he texted Montagne, hoping for an answer. After a few minutes, he got a reply asking to meet him in their dorm. Gilles later confirmed that Gustave was, indeed, caught off guard and kicked him out in defense. The two met in the communal living room, since the other three GIGN operators were off in a training simulation.
“That didn’t go too well, did it?” Gilles gave him a sympathetic smile, sitting on a couch across from Lion. The fireplace crackled softly behind him, casting a warm glow on Olivier’s face as he distractedly eyed the wall behind him.
“Non.” Shifting in his seat, Olivier kicked his legs up onto his chair and sprawled out on the cushions. “It did not.”
“It’ll be okay, mon ami. Africa is still a touchy subject for him.”
“You talked to him about it?”
Pausing for a moment, Gilles thought hard about his answer. “I have before. He’s very unwilling to acknowledge it, from what I’ve seen and understand.”
Olivier scoffed, still instinctively bitter about the mention of Gustave.
“Look, he’s not the best at feelings and neither are you. I know you’re just as upset about Africa as he is.”
“No shit,” he snarled, starting to get up from his chair. “But he acts like I’m just fucking fine. I’m not peachy keen on having these fucking nightmares about...about Africa, alright? The people that died? I see them, alright? He acts like it’s nothing, always playing the damn victim card! He doesn’t give a shit about how I feel about it.” He punctuated his words with a jab of his hand.
“Hey,” Gilles responds evenly, raising a hand in surrender. Olivier sat back down, still giving him a vaguely hostile stare. “No one said you were perfectly okay or that he’s the one that is right, but I’m just trying to remind you that both of you aren’t always complete opposites of each other. You have similar goals.”
“Hm.” Olivier looked away, thinking.
“You both value lives, just in different ways.”
“Okay. I know.”
“Do you want me to talk to him about it again?”
“Yeah.” A brief lull in the conversation gave both operators a period of reflection.
“Consider it done.”
“Merci,” Lion replied grudgingly. He was secretly grateful.
“I’ll leave you be now. See you at dinner?”
“Yeah. Bye.”
“Gustave will come around,” Montagne reassured, smiling at him. “And Em is making filet mignon. Don’t be late.” Olivier hummed absentmindedly, vaguely watching him leave. Once the man was gone, Olivier turned to watch the cloudy sky outside their little bubble of a base. It was unusual for him to be this still, but he couldn’t help but concern himself with a seemingly endless amount of possible scenarios in which he could talk to Gustave.
Gilles marked it as a win in his book. Olivier was still mildly upset by Gustave’s outburst in his office, but he was determined to finish what he had started. Picking at some lint on his grey pants, he considered bringing the medic another cup of coffee. After all, they couldn’t beat around the bush that was their past. At least, not for long.
Almost instantly, Lion found himself reliving the Ebola incident all over again. Too late to pull himself out of the hole he had unknowingly dug himself into, Olivier hoped his godforsaken memories brought back something good at least.
He was wrong.
It started long before anything in Africa. His friendship with Gustave, that is. Almost two peas in a pod, they were partners in the GIGN. Olivier still remembered some of the little details about the other man. He remembered the times where they would hang out in a secluded area of the barracks so they could work on the original stim pistol, staying up late to perfect the firing mechanism. He recalled the exact number of iterations and prototypes they had gone through. Seventy-two. As far as he could tell, the current stim pistol design hadn’t changed since then. They spent a little over a year together in the same unit. He knew Gilles was there too, but he had no memorable moments with Montagne. He could easily recount every time Gustave burned his hand soldering. Eighteen. The pictures and scenes in his head were grainy and dim, but he could remember it all.
Most importantly, he remembered his feelings for Gustave. In Olivier’s eyes they probably weren’t reciprocated to begin with, but, to him, it was a trivial qualm compared to the insurmountable wall that came as a result of their last mission as a unit.
They were sent to Africa to keep a quarantine.
Lion shuddered just thinking about it.
Any good that came out of that operation was dashed by the shitshow that was the protocol that Lion had regrettably committed to. What else could he have done? He didn’t remember what he did or what protocol he even followed, but he saw what happened during and after. Olivier didn’t even know if he couldn’t recall the protocol because he had never needed to follow it again or because he was simply repressing it.
Somehow, he couldn’t repress the smell of rotten flesh and charred bodies, nor could he forget the cries of anguish resonating through the haze of something detonating.
None of these flashbacks were new. He had lived through these again and again before, but this time was different. He could remember something else, something faint. This emerging memory wasn’t tangible, but he tried his best to reach as far deep as he could, just to brush the tips of his fingers on the wisp of a fading scene.
The memory came back, as vivid as anyone could imagine. It was more of a picture than an event. A snapshot of time. He couldn’t move, couldn’t hear. He could only see and pray. Nothing seemed to be moving; everything was frozen. Grimly, Olivier focused on observing what was in front of him, desperately struggling to get a grip on what he saw.
It was Gustave. It had been quite some time since the memory took place, but he looked so young here, his head void of any white hairs, surrounded by debris and splatters of blood. A single, deep red drop was caught midair, falling from an unseen cut on the back of his hand. Breathless, Olivier continued to soak up any of the details he could hold on to, despite all of the pain it caused him. There was dirt mixed in with Gustave’s own blood all over his face, dust hanging lazily in the air. His hair was a mess, and his uniform looked faded because of all the sand that clung to its navy blue fabric. He looked defeated.
In his arms was a young child, limbs mangled and hair matted with blood.
There was a lot more blood than Olivier had anticipated.
Almost like taking a step back, he saw the bigger picture. The scene was almost serene, painted like a Renaissance painting. Doc was standing in the middle, cradling the body, his entire self backlit by the gaping hole in the roof of the tent that once served as the medbay. He really did look like an angel, but there was still all of the blood.
And Gustave’s eyes.
A twisted feeling of anger, betrayal, and sadness clouded his expression. His balaclava was almost entirely torn and shredded in places, revealing numerous cuts and scrapes. Still frozen in time, he regarded Olivier with an overwhelming sense of resentment and internalized grief. Eyebrows knitted together, mouth twisted in contempt. The child was still dead in his arms.
It felt like hell again.
Why now? Why would he remember it now?
Gustave’s words screamed at him, but they were too fuzzy, too muffled. It made Lion feel worse. He couldn’t remember what Doc had said.
“I’m sorry,” Olivier mouthed, the view before him dissipating. He found himself in the same position in the chair he was sitting in, the fireplace still crackling merrily in front of him. No one was there to see or hear him as he choked back sobs.
“Olivier?”
He recognized that voice.
#writing#fanfiction#rainbow six siege#rainbow six doc#rainbow six lion#doc/lion#doc x lion#gustave kateb#olivier flament#r6s doc#r6s lion#r6s#r6s fic#idk they kinda gay tho
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Philadelphia whitewashes investigation regarding who is responsible for video of Muslim children that performed in jihad skits
Click here to send your email to express concern to Philadelphia’s Mayor, City Council and PCHR regarding Philadelphia Commission for Human Relations’
The full origin and possible use nationwide of these seeds of wrath and hate being embedded in childrens minds must be taken seriously for the public safety of all Americans.
Click here to send your email to express concern to Philadelphia’s Mayor, City Council and PCHR regarding Philadelphia Commission for Human Relations’ whitewash of investigation of Muslim children performing Jihad skits and singing violent songs.
On April 17, 2019, the Muslim American Society of Philadelphia (MAS Philadelphia) and its affiliate Leaders Academy posted a video of Muslim school children singing lyrics including “we will sacrifice our souls without hesitation…we will chop off their heads and we will liberate the sorrowful and exalted Al Aqsa Mosque …we will subject them to eternal torture…those who accept humiliation what is the point of their existence… we will lead the army of Allah fulfilling his promise.”
Florida Family Association sent out an email alert last year titled: The Philadelphia Mayor and City Council have been unresponsive to the need to thoroughly investigate and fully report to the public and federal officials the April 2019 video of Muslim children performing anti-Semitic skits and singing violent songs.
However, Americanthinker.com reported in part on February 2, 2020:
PCHR’s response on October 7 avoided answering any of these tough questions. In fact, the statement merely mimicked and accepted at face value the public statements made by MAS. Specifically, they asserted that the video was a mistake; that Leaders Academy, the organization that taught the class and created the video was not affiliated with MAS; that the only person responsible, a “volunteer” was dismissed; and that CAIR-Philadelphia’s executive director was enlisted to conduct “anti-bias” workshops.
At a minimum, PCHR could have listened to Muslim scholar and member of the Council on Foreign Relations Qanta Ahmed, who provides commentary on numerous media outlets including CNN and BBC. Ahmed was interviewed on Fox News about the incident on May 3 and May 5, 2019 -- before PCHR met with the leadership of MAS and the Leaders Academy on May 13. Ahmed called the Muslim Brotherhood “the mother ship of terrorism” and said that the video comes,
“right from the Muslim Brotherhood Islamist playbook for American youth in Pennsylvania where they are being taught to glorify and romanticize martyrdom, Jew hatred, death to Jews and delegitimization of Israel.”
Congressman Zeldin said in an email that he does not believe the PCHR addressed his concern about the relationship between MAS and the Muslim Brotherhood, and noted, “Unfortunately, PCHR has not held anyone accountable yet for this horrendous act.”
While it may not be part of their job to track terrorist-related entities, there is nothing stopping PCHR from acknowledging a serious and worrisome link between MAS and the Muslim Brotherhood and recommending further investigation from appropriate government agencies.
The question of who is responsible remains an open one. Only one volunteer has been blamed by MAS for the performance. Yet there’s reason to believe MAS is using this volunteer as a scapegoat for the behavior of the school as a whole.
Past executive director of the ADL in Philadelphia Nancy Baron-Baer notes that teachers -- more than one -- were in the room leading the class in the performance.
“It’s incumbent on the adults in the room,” said Nancy Baron-Baer, “to understand what was being said and recognize that words like that are absolutely unacceptable at any time, in any language.”
Susie Dym, a spokesperson for the Israeli NGO Mattot Arim agrees:
“Where’s that teacher who taught kids to behead people? Does it really make sense that only one single adult heard the speech rehearsed -- although the speech was doubtless practiced many times, since children need lots of practice?”
When asked for information about the person dismissed, PCHR avoided the question by responding that its “considered private information that we are not privileged to share.”
PCHR also relies heavily on claims that MAS completed “anti-bias” workshops conducted by CAIR-Philadelphia, but offers little information about this supposed remediation. When did it take place? Who attended? What was the itinerary? Was there any follow up with the children forced to sing these songs in the video? Congressman Zeldin says he believes PHRC should, “definitely have found out more about what went on at this workshop.”
PHRC should also have asked whether CAIR-Philadelphia is the appropriate organization to conduct this so-called “anti-bias” workshop, considering that MAS and CAIR both have ties to the Muslim Brotherhood. As federal prosecutors once noted, “CAIR and MAS omit reference to a shared background that limits their membership to those of a particular political bent, and undercuts their credibility.”
And CAIR’s own executive director Jacob Bender has admitted his own bias:
"We should be careful not to conflate criticism of Israeli policy towards the Palestinians with anti-Semitism. Jews like myself are critical of the oppressive policies of the government of Benjamin Netanyahu.”
In other words, CAIR-Philadelphia does not believe these songs were anti-Semitic, they were just anti-Israel.
Regrettably PHRC showed complete indifference to what took place at the workshop. “Any questions about the details of the CAIR trainings would need to be answered by MAS Philly and/or CAIR Philadelphia. “
All efforts to get clarity on PCHR’s understanding of MAS’ relationship with Leaders Academy were also ultimately rebuffed. In its letter to the congressmen, PCHR went along with MAS’ self-serving and clearly false statement of May 4 that MAS is not affiliated with Leaders Academy, but then acknowledged the contradictory statement of May 15 issued jointly by MAS and Leaders Academy.
Yet on May 8, the Investigative Project posted evidence of an overlapping relationship between MAS and Leaders Academy, including a shared location and identical corporate officers. The Investigative Project also found that “the school is called MAS Leaders Academy and posted “many school videos on MAS social media.” Additionally, Congressman Zeldin has “inquired with PHRC to see whether they looked at the documents that suggest there was a closer relationship than previously stated. “
PCHR’s curt reply was “PCHR has already provided our comments on this request.”
The question remains; why does the PCHR refuse to give credence to credible evidence and valid concerns about MAS? Why do they stubbornly stand by the specious narrative that the whole affair was an unfortunate mistake and accept MAS’s apology?
The reason may be is that doing so would force PCHR to admit MAS lied to them, that MAS did indeed know it was engaging in radical indoctrination of children, and that would mean they would have to do something about it, which is the last thing the PCHR wants.
The full origin and possible use nationwide of these seeds of wrath and hate being embedded in children's minds must be taken seriously for the public safety of all Americans.
Florida Family Association has prepared an email for you to send to express concern to Philadelphia’s Mayor, City Council and PCHR regarding Philadelphia Commission for Human Relations’ whitewash of investigation of Muslim children performing Jihad skits and singing violent songs.
To send your email, please click the following link, enter your name and email address then click the "Send Your Message" button. You may also edit the subject or message text if you wish.
Click here to send your email to express concern to Philadelphia’s Mayor, City Council and PCHR regarding Philadelphia Commission for Human Relations’ whitewash of investigation of Muslim children performing Jihad skits and singing violent songs.
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