30 years / 30 songs

As of 2:26 AM Latvian time, I am thirty years old. Originally, I was going to try and summarise my life in 30 sentences, but everything I wrote felt like it was an incomplete attempt at trying to capture my existence. Then, I thought I could try to reflect on these thirty years of my life by having a song per a year on being on Earth, with a little element of my life being associated with a certain song. This is the playlist that came about.

Bo Burnham - 30 Inside came out in 2020. I believe that no work of art captured the sense of isolation and desperation,while being saturated with content, and dealing with historical reckoning and loneliness at the same time, better than Inside. After turning 18, 30 is the next big milestone. It comes with a lot of pressures around romantic, professional and general life milestones. Burnham's 30 captures a sense of youth slipping away and realising that you might be losing touch, and being taken aback by that realisation.

Talking Heads - Road to Nowhere This was the first song I blasted from my North London balcony in 2021 as the fireworks echoed in the distance. This is one of my all time favourite songs, mainly because it embodies a certain positive nihilism. 'There's a city in my mind/ Come along and take that ride / and it's all right, baby, it's all right' Death is the only certainity, so why not enjoy the journey on the way?

The Flaming Lips - Do you realize? When I was 18, I wanted to tattoo the lyrics 'Let them know you realize that life goes fast / It's hard to make the good things last' I have seen The Flaming Lips twice and both times I have come out, feeling an immense sense of joy and love for other humans. Everything is tempory so every moment of joy and happiness is worthy to hold onto.

Pulp - Common People I love Jarvis Cocker, this song is a storytelling masterpiece and Different Class is a perfect album. Common People is one of the wittiest songs ever written, while being an absolute banger.

Bob Dylan - The Times They Are A-Changin' I always think of Bob Dylan as my first 'serious' musical love so I had to include this. As I became more interested in music, I remember creating a certain canon to explore. Dylan's revolutionary and political songs spoke to my 14-year old maximalism. The maximalism has faded, but Dylan manages to return.

Eels - Beginners Luck It was 2009 and I discovered Hombre Lobo through a radio show, I was 15 and discovering Eels felt so special. Like walking through my hometown and having this cool alt-rock playing in my ears, and feeling like I had discovered a secret. Years later I read Things the Grandchildren Should Know. It's one of my favourite books, mainly because of how honest and no-bullshit it is, while showing the way in which art can pull you out from the darkest hellholes.

Patti Smith - Because the Night I spent my teenage years going out to bars in the oldtown, and dancing till the first public tranport could get me home at 5 or 6 am. Because the Night was the most passionate and sexy song to let go of any worries and just dance the night away.

The Kooks - Do You Wanna? As a kid, I listened to a lot of mainstream pop as that was what everyone was listening to. The Kooks were the first 'indie' band (whatever that means) that I encountered. Me and my friend would walk around quiet areas of Ventspils and drink cheap red wine stolen from our parents and listen to the Kooks, and we felt so cool. I don't think I've ever felt as cool as I did when I wore vans, ripped jeans and listened to the Kooks.

Janelle Monae- Screwed Janelle Monae's Dirty Computer is a masterpiece. It is a meaningful artistic statement and it is about taking up space. It's a reminder that we have the agency to act and change the world in a way that we desire.

Eurythmics - Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) This is included for the little Alina, who loved watching VH1 Top 10 after school and was obsessed with this song.

Joy Division - Shadowplay This is for the angsty teen, who could not get enough of the bass line on Shadowplay.

Bērnības milicija - Ārā The Latvian band that made highschool bearable, the songs of which were the most beautiful poetry, so much so that I ended up analysing their lyrics in a state exam.

The National - Slow Show 'A little more stupid / A little more scared / Every minute a bit more unprepared' I could not have a playlist without a band that has become such a big part of me. This was the first song, I genuinely felt captured something true to the way I existed in the world.

Arctic Monkeys - Cornerstone Would I be proper millenial if I didn't have an AM phase? Cornerstone was my first song of theirs I really grew to love, which led to listening to the first two albums, and a few years later seeing them live in Stockholm with my dad, which is a memory I hold dear and close to my heart.

Avril Lavigne - Anything But Ordinary Let Go was the first album I remember listening to ad nauseum. I was going to write her a letter, when I was 10, but never got round to it. Avril embodied a girlhood that seemed appealing to me, a tomboy-ness that felt almost revolutionary in a world that kept saying that girls were meant to be a certain way, a way which I did not resonate with nor resemble.

boygenius - Not Strong Enough A band that has had such an impact on my life over the past year that I cannot exclude them.

Leonard Cohen - Everybody Knows For the disilliusioned part of me that feels like the world is a unchanging clusterfuck of suffering and there is little that can be done about it. Also for the 18 year old version of me, who loved Pump Up the Volume and a young Christian Slater

Bon Iver - Holocene For the 17 year old who felt this album was so beautiful and the video for this song so awe-inspiring that she started crying in central Riga as it played in her earphones.

Elliott Smith - Waltz #2  My big love for many years, whose albums I replayed again and again, as I attended my classes, hosted a radio show rather badly and felt like no one wrote more beautifully than Elliott Smith.

Nick Drake - Time Has Told Me More beauty that surrvives the test of time.

Sufjan Stevens - Mystery of Love One of my favourite love songs ever written, composed for a film that I absolutely adore.

Angelo Badalamenti - Twin Peaks theme My mom says she watched Twin Peaks when she was pregnant with me and she always loved the opening credits. I watched it when I was 17 and it is one hell of a soundtrack to the work of fantastic film maker.

Bruce Springsteen - I'm on Fire A reminder of a time, when I was playing a dj set at my favourite bar with my friend and a man commented that he approved of our Bruce choice. Still one of the sexiest songs to exist.

The xx - Night Time I still haven't found an album that feels as intimate and gentle as the xx debut. It was a special moment in time as I listened to it for the first time in my bedroom, late at night, before going to bed and I remember being completely taken aback by the fact that something like that had been created.

Pete Doherty - For Lovers Positivus 2015 was my first music festival, it opened a whole new world to me and was a key event of shaping the person I am now.

Alise Joste- A Thousand Questions Alise made music that soothed my troubled soul and her concerts always felt like wonderful intimate affairs, in a world that felt like it was rushing and making you fall behind.

Lucy Dacus - A Map on the Wall

'But I feel fine

And I made up my mind

To live happily, feeling beautiful beneath the trees

Above a ground that's solid at the core

Oh please, don't make fun of me

Oh, you know I get frightened so easily

When I'm all alone and the floorboards creak

It's those noises in the dark'

28. Mazzy Star - Fade Into You A reminder of the Alina that bawled her eyes out at Primavera Sound, aged 18, and captivated by Hope's magical voice.

29. Jeff Buckley - Hallelujah The most beautiful cover and a man, whose musical ability blew me away, when I first heard Grace.

30. Baz Luhrmann - Everybody's Free to Wear Sunscreen Forever valuable life lessons. The words were actually written by Mary Schmich, which I only learnt this year.

I'm gonna sound possibly mean? lol but something I dont get with people who learn art purely online and in very limited styles now a days is that there is such a complete lack of common sense or like idk artistic instinct??? I'm mostly self taught, both traditionally AND digitally and when I wanted to draw something I would seek out things I felt would help me. And no, I dont mean looking online because, frankly, my family could not afford at home internet services for a very long time up until I started college. What I mean by that, is that as soon as a started getting serious about drawing better I just kept practicing, using as many drawing mediums I could afford from fucking walmart like willow charcoal, charcoal, graphite, kneaded erasures, blending nibs, etc to figure them out, AND USED REFERENCES LIKE CRAZY (which is batshit to me that so many kids dont do cause they think its "cheating"...ITS NOT! I prommy!!!).

I kept asking my mom (a general audience perspective) and my uncle (a trained artistic perspective) on what I could do better (a lot of younger creatives I talk to have a really hard time with critique as well, you gotta learn to open yourself up to that). And more importantly, I would sit down and look at my art. I mean really and literally look at it from different perspectives. It would help best to look at my art from far away OR especially to take a picture of it to be able to break out of that hyperfocus you get when you're working on something. This would help me notice things I didnt like about it or what felt weak about it and figure out what needed fixing from the perspective of someone who didn't have all the tools and terminology to do it. I STILL have things my art is lacking but I make these very conscious observations and try to work on fixing them (for example, now that I'm more comfortable with color, I'm steadily teaching myself more about using color value with lighting etc).

I guess instead of like calling it a lack of artistic instinct I should call it a fear of exploring outside of what's comfortable. Digital art is a really cool medium with endless possibilities but I think a lot of people, especially younger ones, get trapped in comfort zones because of how like more accessible things are. But like I think it's really important to push yourself because otherwise you just get stuck doing the same shit over and over and, I think worse, saying the same thing over and over without elaboration. Art should feel like an extension of you and your voice, and if you've learned a limited, let say, "vocabulary" of sorts with it, how will you ever learn to fully express yourself? It feels good when you reach a point when other people finally understand you when your words link with what deep in your heart right? That's what exploring with art feels like to me!

I dont wanna be like "You kids should try some traditional shit!" But honestly it wont hurt to challenge yourself a lil bit every now and then cause you will benefit from it. Something as easy as like taking a lil break from digital between pieces and just doodle shit by hand. Just think of it as a fun lil exercise you can do to strengthen not just your artistic muscles, but your artistic instincts and introspection.

Guide: Lesser-known nu metal albums that hold up

Nu metal is a genre that’s easily derided. It was caricatured as over-the-top angst, baggy jeans and casual misogyny. It was one of the biggest genres when I was first discovering music.

There was plenty of bad music, but to say it was all bad would be inaccurate. It was extremely diverse compared to other metal scenes. It also put issues like child abuse to the forefront, showing survivors they were not alone. Nu metal took a genre that was showing signs of wear and reinvented it. While it soon became saturated by faceless bands (as every popularized genre eventually does), it was important.

As the genre regains popularity, there have been plenty of retrospective lists about bands like Slipknot, Deftones and Korn. There have even been lists detailing some of the lesser known bands. The podcast Roach Koach has done a great job reassessing the genre (It was the catalyst for me making this list). In no order, here are seven nu metal albums you might be less familiar with but are worth your time. These all roughly come from the genre’s original era of popularity.  I’ve also put together a ranking of more established nu metal records at the end.

I love the first couple of Static-X albums, but Cannibal is truly a high-water mark. It’s catchy, concise and extremely heavy. While it has some more straight-ahead metal flourishes (guitar solos!?!), no one could mistake this for another band. And, if nothing else, Static-X is a definitive nu metal band. Cannibal seems to find Static-X revitalized after kicking out a problematic member. Vocalist Wayne Static (who died in 2014) knows exactly what he wants these songs to do. His barking delivery finds spaces in each of these spartan industrial rippers. It represents all the things I like about the genre.

Oracle represents somewhat of a break from the more straight-ahead nu metal sound of Spit, so it might not exactly fit on this list. But ultimately Kittie is forever tied to the genre (much like Deftones), even if they’ve branched out in other directions. Oracle doubles down on heaviness by incorporating death metal influences. Morgan Lander’s vocals kneecap a lot of her more melodically inclined nu peers. It also shows the band progressing, despite losing guitarist Fallon Bowman. When people dismiss the nu metal as an outlet for white male whining, though sometimes deserved, they overlook great albums like Oracle.

Apex Theory’s only album, Topsy-Turvy, is brimming with creativity. Much like System of a Down, which originally featured lead vocalist Ontronik Khachaturianon on drums, the band channels its Armenian heritage. Yet Apex Theory leans into something more melodic, mathy and possibly emo (in more of the At the Drive-In sense). Every aspect of this album feels so precise and thought out. Khachaturianon’s vocals can leap out like a barrage of stream of consciousness yet can just as easily smooth out. It might’ve been a bit too weird for radio but, in a world where SOAD broke, it certainly could’ve happened.

Apartment 26’s final album might be one of the strangest on this list. It’s apparent that it was made to be more “marketable.” Yet those touches make it even weirder. The production here is very polished, but this is still an album that incorporates swing jazz into metal through programmed horns. It’s that oddness, intentional or not, that benefits Music for the Massive. An added bonus is the great cover of “In Heaven” from David Lynch’s Eraserhead (the band’s name is a reference to the film). Apartment 26 easily surpasses its legacy as Geezer Butler’s son’s band on this album.

Taproot’s debut struck on something deeply vulnerable that the band has carried through on subsequent albums. What is often missing on those other albums, though, is the heaviness found on Gift. The band’s raw talent is on display here, recalling System of a Down’s debut. Like that album, influences peek through but the band sound fully formed and unique. Stephen Richards’ distinct vocals, while not for everyone, bend around every twist and turn of these knotty songs. The band moved away from the genre, but created some of its best work within it. Oh, and bonus points for instigating this.

Orgy’s goth-y, processed guitar crunch was often imitated (Deadsy, etc.) but has never exactly been replicated. Candyass in some ways seems like the obvious choice, but there are some awkward growing pains. And really Vapor Transmission is just as good and possibly better. The hooks are bigger, the band commits to the futuristic themes and vocalist Jay Gordon is at the top of his gender-bending industrial crooning game. Orgy remains notable in this era for poking holes in the genre’s inflated macho exterior at every turn. There’s something so transgressive about the way the band operated in nu metal.

New Killer America’s cover always caught my eye when I was a kid. Album art was and still is a big deal to me. I love how subtly gross this is. At the time it was more affecting than the over-the-top gore common on metal albums. It fits the music. Skrape wallows in heavy post-grunge sludge. As Ulrich Wild did on the Static-X albums, there’s a good balance struck between heaviness and accessibility. Skrape had a mysterious vibe that was missing from similar acts that had a tendency to over-share. Despite some awkward vocals/lyrics that come up, NKA is noteworthy.

Honorable Mention: Coal Chamber-Chamber Music, Powerman 5000-Tonight the Stars Revolt, Nothingface-Violence, Mushroomhead-XX, Sevendust-Animosity

Established Classics Ranking

1. Korn-Korn: This was the album that started the genre. Every element that other bands would copy is here. It also features some of the rawist emotion ever recorded (”Daddy”) and some great singles (”Blind,” “Clown”). Some of the lyrics are definitely dated, but there are few metal albums that are as influence and heavy (well, in terms of subject matter) as this.

2. Deftones-White Pony: This album defied every stereotype the genre had. It seamlessly incorporated trip-hop and post-rock influences without sacrificing any of the heaviness. This is the highpoint for a band that rarely has a misstep.

3. System of a Down-System of a Down: SOAD’s debut is heavy, political and completely left-field. It still sounds like nothing else. All of the band’s records are good to great, yet I love how the death metal influences poke out more on this one. That’s a personal preference I guess, I really could’ve picked any SOAD album.

4. Sepultura-Roots: This album is so unbelievably heavy. It’s such a bummer that Sepultura didn’t make a record with this lineup past this point. It’s political in a way a lot of nu metal wasn’t. It seamlessly incorporates the band’s Brazilin heritage. It up-ends any perception about the genre being light-weight.

5. Slipknot-Iowa: This is really the only album from this era that rivals Roots in terms of heaviness. The band draws from a different well than Sepultura, packing Iowa with horror movie imagery. Much of this was to no doubt channel vocalist Corey Taylor’s troubled childhood. There’s something so frantic and desperate captured on this album, which probably has to do with Ross Robinson producing it (he produced Korn’s debut, as well as a lot of other iconic records).

6. Incubus- S.C.I.E.N.C.E.: Few nu metal records are this legitimately fun. Every part of Incubus is bursting with stoned creativity here. It also channels its influences much better than its peers. Somehow metal riffs and bongos go together here. S.C.I.E.N.C.E. showed a more easygoing side of the genre that still retained all the heaviness.

7. Linkin Park- Meteora: Though Hybrid Theory has a lot of singles, I always preferred this one. I think the band forged a bit more of its identity here. It gets a bit heavier, yet retains all the pop smarts. Definitely worth revisiting if you’ve just re-listened to Hybrid Theory to celebrate its recent anniversary.

NOTE: Yeah, Limp Bizkit is not on this list. The band has some cool songs, but ultimately its albums are pretty scattered. Fred Durst is a lot for me to take. The rest of the band is amazingly talented, especially Wes Borland. If its exclusion is annoying to you, please make your own list.

Continental Divides Chapter Discussion #0: Humble Origins/Editing and Rewriting

I recently enjoyed hearing Negrek talk about the behind-the-scenes of the most recent chapter of Salvage and was inspired: I figure some of you might be interested in hearing some of that type of thing for Divides, too. CD touches on some pretty complicated subjects (historical events and politics and glazed-over-science) that are worth teasing apart a little more. So I’m going to start slowly adding in some chapter reflection posts! Keep in mind that these will probably be full of spoilers, and you’ll want to get caught up before you read em. 

If you want to hear me talk about something specific, feel free to shoot me a question.

(By the way, if you’re not reading Salvage yet—fam, get on my level. I’d describe it as a black humor odd-couple tale of … friendship??? Hm, that’s definitely not the right word, is it? Anyway! Featuring: an absolute goblin of a pokemorph, dismemberment, corruption, and Very Good Decisions. And lovely prose, by the way.)

With that, let’s get into it!

(CD spoilers below!)

Art by Giulia Bernardelli 

From Humble Origins

I’ve mentioned before that Mark and Natalie were my first original characters. They were side characters in my first ever fic from … god, 2003 or 2004-ish? So in many ways, they’ve grown up with me.

I learned about fanfic shortly after Ruby and Sapphire came out in the US, so of course baby OSJ had to try her hand at a Hoenn journey fic. I’m really sad that I don’t have a copy of the original text anymore because it was hilariously bad. You see, Brendan and May had to run away from home (instead of just … journeying like every other trainer?) because they were IN LOVE (after, like, a day and a half at most) but their parents WOULDN’T LET THEM BE TOGETHER. The story featured dazzling moments of creative genius like … Brendan and May “sneaking” into Rustboro at the wee hour of 10 am, whereupon May ran into a lamp post somehow. 

Later, Mark and Natalie appear to yell at our poor heroes and then at each other. Lots of yelling. In their first inception, Mark and Nat were basically discount Jesse and James but with less dress-up and queer subtext. Mark had a glorious moment of running while dragging his feet (?). Also, during a double battle against Brendan and May, I forgot about his zubat, so it fainted because “it was tired from flying,” despite having no feet and despite taking zero hits during the fight. Then Mark took shelter from the rain under a tree, where Natalie yelled at him some more and decided for both of them that they had to team up “temporarily” to get the red and blue orbs back from those meddling kids or something. I had grand plans for this whole plot where Natalie would kidnap May to get the orbs, but then May would end up in Magma’s hands (like a human hot potato), and Brendan would have to rescue her??? Something, something, Mark and Natalie see the error of their ways and team up to help Brendan and May … do stuff?

Anyway, I never finished it, and that’s definitely for the best.

I did revisit Mark and Natalie a few years later, though, this time for a story of their own called Out of Hand. I didn’t finish that one either, but I do have the original text this time (plus snarky comments and a “review” from me ten years after the fact). I can’t honestly tell you it was … good. Maybe good-for-a-highschooler. But! When I stumbled upon it again in 2018, there was enough in it that almost worked that I started to think about how I’d handle those themes and characters as an adult.

A lot has changed since then, but that 2010 draft of Out of Hand established some of the skeleton of Continental Divides. For example, that was when Archie became Natalie’s brother to help explain how she got involved in Aqua. I decided to keep that structure because it was a good way to let Natalie start as a neutral party/reader proxy and then quickly become embroiled in the conflict. It was also the first time Mark’s sister appeared, though I don’t think I’d decided what to do with her at the time except to use her as decorations in his angsty dreams, haha. His smoking habit also started in 2010. I, too, thought he’d quit “years ago,” in literal real time. Jokes on me—it turned out to be a useful way to signal the start of him losing control, the negative influence of Cora/Magma in his life, his hypocrisy, and his guilty feelings about things he’s burned. Scarlet appeared for the first time in this draft, too. I think I was equal parts trying to humanize Archie and to write my way through feelings about growing apart from/pining for someone. Her backstory took up a disproportionate number of pages in the old draft, but I liked the idea of keeping her around as a figure who could complicate Natalie’s relationship with Aqua and with Archie. The 2010 has  a couple fights between Mark and Natalie that I respect for bringing real danger to the protagonists ... but also can’t help laughing at. They literally fight until they tumble over a waterfall, like a cartoon. Silly as those scenes are, you can also see how they laid a foundation for scenes like the fight in Chapter 9.

CD is basically me responding to Out of Hand with, “I see you and I raise you.” 

2010-OSJ had some vague feelings about inequality and environmentalism, but none of it was very well thought-out. She mostly wanted to tell an enemies-to-lovers story, in part because she thought she was living in one IRL. Nowadays, I’ve got a lot of feelings about climate change, political divisions, activism and responsibility, corporations, policing, and whether or not violence is a good answer to certain kinds of questions. Hoenn is a safe space to explore those feelings. (It’s got pokemon, so it’s inherently more fun, right???) 

Kyogre and Groudon are such obvious parallels to sea level rise/more intense storms and rising temperatures/wildfires respectively that I couldn’t resist. And in Magma/Aqua I see a lot of parallels to political conflicts happening in the US right now. The far left and the far right don’t share a vision of what a “better world” would look like, but they do share a mutual mistrust of “the swamp” and all the ways the government tag-teams with corporations to dunk on ordinary people. I’d love to believe that someday we could team up across the aisle to fight corruption together. It’s certainly hard to imagine how we could get to a better world with one half of the country pitted against each other … Something has got to give eventually, probably not peacefully. 

My versions of Magma and Aqua aren’t exact parallels to the US political left and right—both are pretty left-leaning, for one—but I still find a lot of hope in the idea of two enemies from rival factions learning to (eventually) care for one another and work together towards common goals. At the very least, it’s something I can manifest and control on the page, and that makes me feel better about all the things I can’t control.

Editing and Rewriting

My first attempt at Continental Divides was inarguably an improvement on earlier versions of Mark and Natalie … but it still took quite a bit of rewriting to get to the draft that’s available to read now. The first draft in 2018 opened with what’s now Chapter 3, the protest in Rustboro. I had the right idea with “starting at the beginning,” but starting with an action scene was the wrong move: we didn’t know enough about Natalie to care when she was in trouble or to understand why she was making any of those choices. Moreover, even though the political content is important, this is ultimately still an enemies-to-lovers story: the beginning needed to center Mark and Natalie’s relationship. You know, to establish some interest before it all implodes. The next attempt ran a little long, though, and the current version condenses their initial meeting and Nat’s backstory much better. Maybe the next time I start a new project I’ll have an easier time knowing what makes a good starting point, but this time there was a lot of swinging back and forth to find a balance.

If you’re interested in seeing how my first chapter changed over time, you can see that here.

I’m really happy to have a first chapter I know is a solid representation of the subject matter, tone, and writing level of the later chapters. Getting stuck in an editing loop is a real danger … but if you’re ever going to edit part of your fic, let it be the first chapter. A good first chapter is critical to keeping potential readers onboard. I can tell from feedback that I’ve stuck the landing now.

Hope you enjoyed this not-so-little reflection on the origins of this story!

Some music (Spotify links):

Night of the Long Knives - Everything Everything

MMMMHMMMMM - Four Fists

Sanctuary - Chapter 1

So this can be seen as either a companion piece to I Found (my first and still on going Tyler Rake/OC fan fic) or a sequel. It works either way lol.   I decided to work outside of the box and do more fluffy/soft/cute Tyler mixed in with his edge ;)    So this will be multi chapter and include everything from fluff, angst, drama, love, suspense, you name it. 

If you’d like to be tagged, please just let me know. I love comments, messages, you name it!

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y  @alievans007  @hemmyworthy  @valkyrie-of-the-light

FIVE YEARS LATER

 He listens to the sound of life...his life...drifting up from the floor below. Hands behind  his head, eyes closed, the cotton sheets cool against his skin. Trying to squeeze in that extra bit of sleep despite the noise:  incessant high pitched giggling, some squabbling and name calling, the occasional ear piercing shriek. Outside the dog is whining to be let back in the house; not wanting to miss out on the action and the endless attention and treats the kids toss its way. A two year old German Shepherd that one of his son's had...much to the chagrin of everyone else in the house...named Macaroni. Mac for short. Further back on the property, in a safely fenced off area, chickens cluck and squawk within their pen as two goats tend to making sure their area is free of weeds and any left over food.

 It's a simple existence. A four bedroom farm house in Telluride, Colorado that had taken three years to fully renovate. A mixture of white wood siding and red brick; old fashioned touches like claw foot tables and a storm cellar, along with the newer and more modern amenities: a home gym and fully finished basement with its own entrance, kitchen, living space, bedroom and bathroom. Pushed four hundred meters from the road, there's enough land for a decent sized hobby farm; the chickens and goats, three separate vegetable gardens, an above ground pool and tons of free space for the kids to play. There's a creek at the very back; running horizontally at the edge of their property line, a common meeting ground for deer, fox, and other wildlife. And the one thing that had truly sold them on the place -when it had been nothing more than a rotted old place that looked as if it should be bulldozed to the ground- a view of the snow capped mountains.  A far cry from the sand and surf of Australia, but a paradise in its own right.

 “Okay...boys...boys...you need to take it down a notch...”  his wife's voice, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “..why are you like this? Please just go and sit down and do something quiet for five minutes so I can get breakfast started. Why do you have to act like wild banshees the moment your eyes open?”

 “Maybe daddy's up,” one of the twins-Tyler Junior's voice. Or TJ as he's affectionately known to everyone in his life. He's the taller of the two: sharing his father's height and naturally broad shoulders, along with the same texture and colour of hair and brilliant blue eyes. He's the wilder of the two. Loud and boisterous. Fearless. To a fault.

 “Can we go check?” Tanner now. Smaller and slighter than his older (by a mere six minutes) brother. With slightly darker hair than his siblings, and his mother's build and smile and the freckles splashed across the bridge of his noise. He's the quiet, introspective one. An old soul trapped in such a young body.

 “You two get down from there,” Esme hisses from the bottom of the stairs. “No going up there. Daddy is asleep. He's tired. Do you want me to throw you out there with the chickens and the goats? Because I will. I swear to God I will.”

 He smirks at that.

 “Maybe he's awake,” Millie pipes up. Even more hopeful than her younger brother. She's a daddy's girl. Through and through. Has been since the moment she made her entrance into the world and had been placed in his arms, her entire fist closing around one of his fingers.

 “I said no. Now all three of you get down here right now. Daddy didn't get in until late last night. He's had a very busy two weeks and he needs to sleep. Are any of you even listening to me right now? Are you feral?”

 Tyler actually laughs out loud at that.

 The kids have extremely keen ears, and their mother's patience is already running low, and now he can hear the pounding of little feet against the wooden stairs as they seize the opportunity and make their move. And he's just manage to slip into a pair of sweats and climb back into bed when the door is being thrown open. The twins collide with either side of the door frame; causing the human equivalent of a three car pile up.  And they decide to just throw down right there and then; head locks and elbows to the face as they fight over who actually gets to enter the room first.

 Millie takes charge, and with a roll of the eyes, simply shoves them both out of the way. She's tall and slender for only five. With unruly light brown hair and blue eyes that are always filled with both mischief and curiosity. A healthy mix of tomboy and girly girl: a room filled with both dolls and action figures. She enjoyed both tea parties and dress up but could turn around and climb trees and roll around in the dirt in the blink of an eye.

 All three jump onto the bed to greet him and he finds himself tackled by the lot of them. Letting them push him down onto his back; a tickle fight immediately ensuing, followed by a wrestling match. They all love to rough house. Even Tanner, who is smart and compassionate like his mother but could lay an ass kicking on his bigger twin. They're tough kids. Both physically and mentally.

 “I gotta pee!” Tanner announces, as he slides across the bed on his butt, jumps off and scurries from the room.

 His brother takes it as a chance to catch him unaware, and in less than a minute they're in the middle of the hallway, rolling around on the ground fighting. It will end the way it always does. Tears. Maybe a black eye or a split lip. If left to their own defences, they'd spend a half an hour beating the hell out of each other followed by a quarter of the day declaring they hate one other. Then they'd forget about why they were even mad and once again join forces to wreak havoc.

 ****

Millie crawls across the bed and plops down onto her side, snuggling into him. Nestling her head underneath his chin, one of her hands on his shoulder. And he drops a kiss on her hair and wrapping an arm around her, pulls her close. Once again closing his eyes, enjoying a few extra moments of relaxation. Until she's moving against him and her tiny fingers are attempting to pry his eyes open.

 “Wake up daddy,” her hand moves to his beard, giggling as she rubs her palm against it.  “It's time to get up.”

 “What if I don't want to?”

 “It's breakfast,” she announces, and she's at his eyes again, growing frustrated as he screws them shut even tighter. “Daddy...” she grumbles. “...don't be such a boy.”

 “I am a boy,” he reminds her.

 “It doesn't mean you have to give me a hard time like the rest of them.”

 Tyler grins. “You sounded so much like your mother just now.”

 “Smart like mommy, cute like daddy,” she declares.

 “Atta girl. You know what's up.”  He opens his eyes: bright blue meeting bright blue.

 “Hi!” she chirps, and leans in so they can rub the tips of their noses together. It's their 'special thing'. Something he'd taught her shortly after her second birthday. And she refuses to share it with her brothers.

 “Hi.”

 “I missed you, daddy.”

 He will never grow tired of hearing that word. Or the way it makes him feel. How it fills him with a sense of accomplishment. That someone like him...with all the monsters in his closet and all the battles he's fought ...could both make and deserve something so perfect.

 “How could you miss me? You were still up when I got home. I tucked you in. Read you a story. Five of them to be exact.”

 “I missed you while I was sleeping,” she says, and fiddles with the chain around his neck.

 He'd been gone for two weeks this time; helping Nik with a handful of  simple 'in and out' extractions throughout central and south America. Returning with little more than a couple of bruised ribs, scrapped up knuckles, and a small gash above his right eye. He only takes the easy jobs now. He has way too much to lose. A wife and kids. Even his own side business: home renovations and handyman work.  A way having steady cash flow and being able to get food on the table, the bills paid, and keep a roof of over their heads.

 She is investigating the cut above his eye now. It hadn't been deep enough for stitches, but the skin around it was starting to swell and turn a vivid purple. Millie had lost it when she'd seen his injuries; crying like she'd never cried before. The only thing calming her down had been a bowl of ice cream and those five stories he'd been suckered into.  

 “You were gone a long time,” she pouts.

 “Too long,” he agrees.

 “Did you miss me?”

 “Of course I did. Didn't I call you every night when I was gone? I missed you very much. And your mommy. And your brothers.”

 “But not as much as you missed me, right? Because I'm your favourite.”

 “I love all of you the same. I don't have any favourites.”

 She pulls back, taking his face in her tiny hands. “Just tell me, daddy. I can keep a secret.”

 It feels like a lifetime ago when she was just a tiny baby that he could carry around in one hand. Now she's in kindergarten, taking gymnastics, enrolled in martial arts, and willing try any sport that tickles her fancy. Sometimes he misses the old days. Getting up in the middle of the night to tend to her, feeling that tiny body just melt into his, smelling that powdery, fresh scent that clung to her hair and clothes. She's a daddy's girl. Always has been. And there's no sign of that changing any time soon.

 He hopes it never does.

 “Daddy?”

 His eyes are closed again. Relishing the precious and all too fleeting moments with his first born. His only daughter.  “Yeah?”

 “I love you,” she announces, and it nearly brings tears to Tyler's eyes. She is so innocent and so pure, as is her blind faith and trust in him. She has no clue of what his other job entails. Just that he goes a way a lot and she hates it. And sometimes he comes back with cuts and bruises and the occasional broken bone.

 It's his number one fear: what will happen when she gets older and she learns just what he's been up to all these years. He worries it will change how she looks at him. Right now she adores and idolizes him; there's no problem that daddy can't fix, no toy he can't repair, no monster he can't chase away. Soon that will end. She'll grow out of that and their relationship will be different. And he worries that the truth and the monsters and demons of his past will drive her away.

 He tightens his hold on her. Drops a kiss on the top of her head.

 “I love you too.”

 ****

 His family is gathered in the kitchen. The smell of pancakes, eggs, and sausage hanging heavily in the air as google home mini perched on a nearby counte rtop plays the current and most popular music. Tanner scurries back and forth between cupboards and table as he happily and dutifully finishes setting places for his mother. The baby in his high chair; ten months old, a lock of strawberry blond hair falling across his forehead, brilliant blue eyes focused intently on scooping  the selection of dry cheerios and slices of banana on the tray in front of him. Declan is long and lanky like Millie and TJ. Feisty and mischievous at even such a tender age.  The genes run strong in the Rake family. Never a doubt to strangers on the street that those four came from the same mom and dad. Especially the latter.  Their appearances strikingly similar; both physical and in their mannerisms and facial expressions.

 “Help your brother,” Tyler instructs his daughter, placing her on the ground. “And no fighting over who gets what colour cup or what spoon.” 

They were only eleven months apart and while incredibly close and nine times out of ten the best of friends, they loved to scrap. Their little pissing matches often turning physical. But Mille is strong and clever and never backs down from a challenge.

 He joins his wife at the counter where she stands dishing food out onto plates. His hands coming to rest on her shoulders, then sliding down her arms and coming to rest on her hips. They’re wider now; she’s had four children after all. His children. Yet she is still firm and tone in some places, soft and more curvaceous in others.  Her hair is shorter; skimming the tops of her shoulders, wispy bangs over her forehead. She is beautiful even first thing in the morning; a wide headband holding her hair away from her face, clad in a pair of simple black leggings and one of his t-shirts. And he leans into her, eyes closed as he breathes in the soft scent that lingers in her hair.

 “Good morning,” his lips are against her ear, hands tightening on her hips as she pulls her back against him.

  He feels her shudder against him and he smiles as he presses a kiss to her cheek. He had heard that once children came into the picture, a lot of women lost some, if not all, desire for sex. They were tired. Physically and emotionally. But not his wife. In fact, it had seemed to heighten her need for it even more. She’s always been insatiable; right from the very beginning of their relationship. The only woman he’d ever known -including his first wife- whose sexual appetite almost matched his. Last night she’d been especially in the mood; pouncing on him the second he walked into their bedroom. And then  proceeding to wake him up twice in the middle of the night with no so gentle demands that he make love to her.

 Who was he to say no?”

 “Good morning,” she tilts her head back and smiles up at him “Did you sleep okay? I’m sorry the kids were so loud and woke you up.  They were excited you were home.”

 “They only woke me up once. You woke me up twice,” he teases, grinning when she blushes, and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose. “By the way…” he places his lips against her ear once again, and presses his groin against her ass. “…you were incredible.”

 Her blush deepens, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

 “You definitely were not complaining,” he chides, and then kisses her cheek. Behind them, TJ makes a very distinct gagging noise.  “One day you’re going like kissing girls,” he informs his son, as he leans back against the counter and accepts a mug of steaming black coffee from his wife.

 “Never,” the little boy declares.  “Girls are gross.”

 “Your mommy isn’t gross,” Tyler points out. “Far from it. Daddy thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. One day you’ll find a girl that you feel the same way about.”

 “Nope,” his namesake remains steadfast. “Never. Ever. Girls that aren’t mommy are nasty. And kissing is gross. Just…ughhh…” his nose crinkles in disgusts as he shudders dramatically.  Definitely his mother’s son with that little display.

 “Kissing is where babies come from,” Mille announces, as she scrambles into her seat at the table.

 “Well there’s a little more to it than that,” he says, and Esme digs her elbow into his ribs and shakes her his. “Well there is.”

 “Like what?” Millie inquires. “Kissing and what?”

 “Kissing and things,” her mother replies. “Things you don’t need to know about until you’re older. Much older.”

 “How much older?” the five year old isn’t giving up that easily.

 “When you’re thirty and your father finally lets you go out on a date.”

 “Thirty!” Mille squeals. “That’s old as shit!”

 “”Hey!” Tyler admonishes. “None of that. Only mommy says that word. She invented bad words like that.”

 “Yeah…” Esme snorts.  “…way back when the Pony Express still delivered mail.”

 “I think you made the F word, daddy,” Tanner says, and his twin giggles beside him.

 “Someone needs to watch their language when little ears are around,” Esme scolds, and hands him a cold plate of eggs and pancake for the paper.

 “You might get your mouth washed out with soap,” TJ adds. “That’s what grandma says she used to do to Uncle Mike when he was little and swore like a drunken sailor.”

 “Thirty is really old,” Millie muses dramatically, as she tucks her hair behind her ears.  

 “Your mother was being generous,” Tyler says. “I was thinking more like forty.”

 “Daddy, that’s mean. You can’t boys away from me that long.”

 “Don’t say that him,” Esme pipes up. “He’s going to take that as a challenge.”

 “She can date, but I’m sitting on the front porch with a gun in my lap until she gets home,” he vows, and his wife rolls her eyes and begins carrying plates of food to the table, leaving an extra on the counter.

 The baby squeals happily when Tyler steps up beside the high chair and reaches up for him with dirty hands. Fists repeatedly opening and closing in a request to be picked.

 “Mate…” he sighs, as he takes in the state of his youngest. Banana smashed into oblivious, smeared into his hair.  “…why do you have to do this to me? What kind of mess did you go and make? Your son tried to shampoo his hair with his banana,” he informs his wife. “Look at him. He’s a bloody wreck.”

 “How come he’s only my son when he’s bad?” she smirks, and tosses him a package of baby wipes.

 “Because the bad genes come from you,” he states, and then uses the wipes to clean the baby’s face, hair, and hands before unbuckling him and lifting him from the seat. Little arms curling around his neck, a face nuzzling into his shoulder. “Here we go, mate, here we go,” he says, and then slides into his chair. “Time to eat. Time to get big and strong so that you can kick some ass when you get older.”

 “Really, Tyler?” Esme sighs. “Really?”

 “Daddy said ass,” TJ giggles, and soon he and his brother are dissolving into hysterics and making fart jokes. Their sister rolling her eyes and giving them hell for being so rude.

 Just another day in paradise.

 ****

  “Well…well…well…” Esme grins.  “…it lives. Long enough to emerge from it’s dungeon to eat.”

 There’s a slight blush to Ovi’s cheeks as he enters the room, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he lays a hand on her shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. She may not be the woman that carried him for nine months and given birth to him, but she was very much his mother. Spending the last five years making sure he was well taken care of; nurtured, shown affection, encouraged to enjoy the simple things that came with a quieter existence. And he may not use the word, but he feels it in his heart. And he knows she does too.

 He’s much taller now; half an inch shy of Tyler’s six foot three frame. He’s not as muscular and powerful as the man he considers his father, but is tall and athletic; a sinewy, well toned body from all the hours he’s spent lifting weights,  helping out on their little hobby farm, and accompanying Tyler to his reno and handy man jobs. And while he lives in the apartment in the basement, he never misses a meal with the family. He craves the togetherness; the conversations and the jokes and hearing the kids giggling and playing.

 He snags the plate of food off the counter and heats it in the microwave, then slips into the chair to Tyler’s left. “What time did you get back?” he inquires, as Esme moves to fill his empty glass from a pitcher of orange juice on the table.

 “Around nine.”

 “That was a long one,” he remarks, and Esme nods in agreement.

 She has gotten used to his time away, but still doesn’t like it. It’s cold and lonely in the middle of the night and sleep rarely comes; too many worries about where he is and if he’s okay.

 “What happened here?” Ovi gestures to the area above his own eye.

 “Just a little mix up with someone that wasn’t too happy with me. Nothing serious. Where were you? The car was gone when I got home.”

 He’d been the one that had taught the kid to drive; taking him on back country roads in a beater pick up truck that they’d picked up for cheap.  Ovi’s come a long way in five years; physically and mentally. He’s no longer plagued by the vivid nightmares of what had happened in Dhaka or how’d he’d killed Gaspar to save  Tyler’s life, and essentially, his own.  He had thrived in the public school system and quickly and effortlessly made friends.  Joined the swim team. Ran track and field. Tried his hand at football. He had decided to take a year off from pursuing a higher education; electing to busy himself on the farm and learning how to use power tools, sweating under the weight of hard, manual labour.

 “Ovi had a date,” Millie sing songs. “With a girl.”

 He reaches across the table to tousle her hair, and she gives that musical little giggle.  

 “It wasn’t a date,” he says.  “I was helping her study.”

 “Yeah…” Tyler smirks as the sips his coffee. “…it was studying.”

 “Right…” Esme grins from across the table. “…studying. I was a teenager once. I know what studying is code language for. Tyler and I like to study together. He’s actually an excellent tutor.”

 “Which is why we have four kids,” he adds.

 “I am never going to study,” TJ declares, causing the adults to laugh.

 “Oh boy child…” his mother sighs. “…you are in for one heck of a rude awakening when you get older. No kissing and no studying? Come back and talk to me when you’re fourteen.”

 “You’ll like studying,” Tyler says. “Even by yourself. It’s not as fun as when you study with someone else, but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

 Ovi laughs, nearly choking on a mouthful of orange juice.

 “Excuse me,” Esme directs a kick to his shin under the table. “When was the last time you actually had to study alone?”

 “I was just gone for two weeks,” he reminds her.  “Just because you wanted to study together when I got back doesn’t mean I didn’t have to study by myself while I was away. Go that long without studying? I haven’t gone that long without studying since I was fifteen.”

 She holds a hand up to silence him. “Okay that last part is just way too much information.”

 “Sometimes you have to study alone,” he continues with a shrug. “Because your study partner is tired. Or they feel sick Or they have a headache. Study partners get headaches a lot.”

 She kicks him under the table to get his attention, then mouths: “I will kill you in your sleep.”

 He shoots her a grin and a wink, reaching out with his foot in order to run his toes over her instep, along her shin, and then around to the hell.

 At first she glares at him, glass against her lips, then gives a smirk and places her other foot in his lap. Causing him to clear his throat noisily and shift in his seat when she presses her toes into his crotch. But he doesn’t make her stop.

 “So what’s her name? Esme asks. “This study partner of yours?”

 “Chloe.”

 “Oooo that’s pretty!” Mille gushes. “That’s a princess name. Is she pretty like a princess?”

 “She is,” he confirms, but then reaches across the table to tousle her hair. “But not as pretty as you.”

 “How’d you meet her?”  Tyler asks, his hand slipping below the table to push his wife’s foot out of his crotch. The last thing he needed was to get up from the breakfast table with a raging hard on. He is almost forty one now, but she still has a way of making him feel like a horny teenager.

 Esme pouts dramatically, then goes back to her breakfast. Foot now on his thigh, his fingers massaging at the bases of her toes.

 “The internet,” Ovi sheepishly admits.

 Tyler groans. Jesus , mate. We talked about this. We’ve been talking about this for five years now. No social media. It’s too easy for people to find you on there and track you down.”

 “I’m being really careful,” he insists. “My security settings are really high. I don’t use my real name. Esme has a facebook.”

 “With only her family on it. It’s not the same thing. How’d you end up randomly meeting her online in the first place? Don’t tell me you did something creepy like sending her a message out of nowhere because you thought she looked cute.”

 “It was a group. For single people in Colorado.”

 “Oh for fuck sakes,” Tyler mutters, much to the chagrin of the kids; the twins giggling and telling he was going to get his mouth washed out with soap and Millie who immediately scrambling for the ‘swear jar’ that sits on the counter by the stove. Informing him that he knows five bucks because it was a ‘really, really, really bad word’.   “Why would you go on something like that? I get being lonely and wanting to meet girls, but for Christ sakes, mate.”

 “I wasn’t thinking, I guess. I just wanted to meet new people and talk to them. I wasn’t really planning on meeting anyone. I was just wanting  to talk.”

 He’s had a handful of girlfriends in high school. Nice, down home kind of girls that came from decent families and seemed to have no secrets in their closets. Tyler had made sure of it: giving their names and addresses to Nik so she would do a little digging. Everything had come back clean, thankfully. But it was better to be safe than sorry, especially with kids in the house.

 “How much do you even know about this girl?”

 “Enough.”

 Tyler arches both brows, waiting for a better response.

 “We’ve been talking for a little while,” he admits. “A few weeks now. She lives in Butte. So when we wanted to meet in person, we agreed to drive hallway and meet in the middle.”

 “How old is she?” Tyler presses. “What does she do for a living?”

 “Twenty three.”

 Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the way his wife’s widen at the revelation. There’s almost five full years between them and while that had never stopped them, it seemed a little wrong when it was a nineteen year old boy being pursued by an older woman.

 “She teaches in a day care,” Ovi continues. “So she’d fit in really well around here. She loves kids and you guys have a lot of them, so…”

 “I wanna met her,” Mille decides, and her brothers join in.

 “You can’t just bring strangers to the house,” Esme speaks up.  “You know that’s one of the big rules. We can’t just have anyone and everyone walking through the front door. How much do you really know about her other than her name, age, and what she does for a living? Do you know anything about her friends? Her family? Her background?”

 “I can always get Nik to run a check on her,” Tyler suggests. “I mean, if he really wants to see this girl…”

 “Still doesn’t mean I want a stranger coming to my bouse. Being around my kids.  Wasn’t that we agreed on about five years ago? When we moved here and I was having the twins? That we wouldn’t take the chance of just letting someone walk through the door? There’s always a chance, remember? That someone is looking for us. Those are your exact words.”

 “But if I get Nik to do a background check, we’ll get some answers. If nothing comes up, great. He can see the girl. If someone comes up, then he doesn’t. You wouldn’t, right?” he looks at Ovi. “See her if something came up?”

 “No! I would never do anything like that! I’d never bring someone like that around here.  I just want the chance to get to know her. That’s all. She’s really nice and really pretty and I think you guys would like her.:

 “I’m going to like her,” Millie chimes in. “I already do. If she’s good enough for my Ovi, she’s good enough for me.”

 “Pound it…” he says to her, as he holds out a fist and she enthusiastically responds. “…now blow it up.”

 They’ve always been close. Right from the moment they’d brought her as a baby to the Mahajan house five years ago. It was the first infant he’d ever had contact with and he’d been immediately smitten; mesmerized by the little sounds she made, how she would look up at him with those big blue or wrap her entire fist around one of his fingers. And when he wasn’t holding or begging to hold her, he was playing the piano for her; having her in the car seat on the floor next to him while he entertained her with his favourite songs. As she grew older, she’d always referred to him as ‘my Ovi’. Sometime she’s even called him her brother, and when people tried to point out it wasn’t physically possible that they were related in any way, she’d argue that ‘Christmas presents aren’t always in the same wrapping paper and neither are people’.

 Pretty wise for a five year old.

 “It won’t hurt to take a look at her,” Tyler attempts to reason with his wife “What’s the worst that can happen? We see something we don’t like in her background and he cuts ties with her. That’s it. No harm, no foul.”

 She’s become increasingly paranoid with each baby they’ve brought into the world. Always worried that there was someone out there just waiting to trample on the happiness that they had managed to find. And when he’d gotten back into the job without consulting her first, the worry became obsessive and all consuming.

  And there was also some lingering animosity towards him on her part; that he’d willingly go back into a profession that put a target on not only his back, but hers and the kids as well. He no longer saw it that way; he was more than capable of protecting his family and there were others -like Nik, Yaz, and the rest of the team- that would help them out no questions asked. Besides, the jobs he took were considered low on the scale of risk when it came to severe injury or death.

 “If nothing comes back and she’s totally clean, there’s no reason why she can’t come around,” he adds, and gives her foot a squeeze. “You know I’m not going to just let a stranger walk up in here. I wouldn’t take that chance. So I’ll get Nik to look her up. The kid does deserve to have a life. Isn’t that we brought him along with us in the first place?”

 Sighing heavily, she uses her fork to push the remains of her food around her plate.

 “Nothing is going to happen,” he assures her. “We do things this way, there’s no chance of something going wrong. Let’s at least give the girl a chance, yeah?”

 “As long as you promise to have Nik look into her. And as long as you…” she trains her gaze on Ovi.  “…promise me you won’t bring her here until Tyler find outs about her. I’m serious, Ovi. I can’t have some random off the street getting near my kids. I just can’t.”

 “I won’t,” he vows. “I’d never do something like that.”

 Giving a small smile, she nods and then pushes her chair away from the table and begins tidying up the dirty plates and utensils, instructing the kids to run upstairs and get cleaned up and dressed.

 “Is she okay?” Ovi asks. “She seems a little….mad.”

 “I think she’s a bit pissed at me. I was only supposed to be gone four days and it ended up turning into two weeks. It’s hard on her. Being home alone all that time with the kids. This job was supposed to be easy and it turned into a real shit show instead. Definitely not what I thought I was walking into.”

 “Well at least you’re alive, right? You’re home. At least you’re still here.”

 “That’s all that matters, mate. Dragging myself through that front door. As long as I get home to my wife and my kids, it’s a good day.”

 As long as he wasn’t being brought home in a body bag.

Carter Part 3 of 4

Summary: This is it, Carter is going to die here. His torturers are relentless and no one is coming for him. At least that is what he thinks until a mysterious stranger busts into the building searching for their sister. Carter is brought to the rebels, who surprise him, keeping him on his toes and helping him to work through a few things. This group is so happy and kind and better than he could ever dream of.

Found family, trans mc, chronic pain mc, trauma, hurt/comfort

Content warnings: opioids, concussion, torture (simple physical injury and neglect), blood, low self esteem, negative self talk, history of physical and mental abuse from family and a partner, self harm scars, panic attack, getting triggered, derealization, dissociation

5256 of 15060 words total

part 1, part 2, part 4

He wakes again with pain clawing at his back. It is a slow and rude awakening of tossing and turning and not being able to keep his legs still. At least it is light outside. He can tell by the diffuse glow coming in through the shuttered windows. He decides it is no use trying to sleep longer and rolls out of bed. 

He smiles at the sleepy morning feel to it all. Light is slanting in, soft and warm down the hallway. When he rounds the corner he sees Emille sipping coffee on the couch. Their hair is pulled into a messy bun on the top of their head and they are wearing reading glasses. 

When they see him their eyebrows furrow. “You alright? Thought you’d be sleeping in.”

“Yeah just… pain.” He shrugs.

They set down their coffee. “You want me to get Joao to take a look at it?” 

“No. It’s not an injury.” He doesn’t elaborate and is grateful that they do not ask any further. He keeps his eyes down so he does not see the puzzled look on their face, gears tuning behind their eyes.

He goes into the kitchen and pauses, not knowing if he has free range of the space. The last thing he wants is to overstep some boundary. He glances back at Emille but they are typing a text on their phone. Hesitant every step of the way he goes to make himself tea. “Hey, is it alright if I use a peppermint tea bag.”

“Yeah totally. I doubt Naji would mind.”

That gives Carter pause. Naji was very... to the point yesterday. He is not sure if she likes or trusts him and he is afraid to do anything to jeopardize his chances. There is a considerable pile of peppermint tea bags though so he chances using one. He settles near Emille at a right angle between the couches. He pulls his knees up to his chest and bites his thumbnail as he looks around the room. There are some maps with colored push pins embedded into the wall. At least he knows he is still in the city. Those assholes knocked him out when he was kidnapped so he had no idea how far they had taken him. 

Naji emerges next. She stops to stifle a yawn before rolling into the kitchen. With practiced ease she takes a travel mug out of the lower cupboard and fills it to the brim with coffee from the pot. She takes her place beside Emille’s couch, staring into the middle distance as she sips her drink and lets the caffeine diffuse into her veins. 

Her newly sharpened eyes lock onto Carter. “You able to tell us now how you’re caught up in all this shit?”

“Yeah- um, I guess?”

“Great.” She leans forward, her cup cradled between her hands. “You really don’t know who it was that took you?” He shakes his head and she sighs. “But you saw the Sweitzer Vase?”

Emille stiffens. “Wait, you did?”

“Why does everyone care so fuckin’ much about some vase?”

“The coalition hired someone to steal it in Botswana.” Emille says. “They had made a deal with a billionaire that he would join them in exchange for the vase. But now it’s gone missing and everyone’s clambering for it. UPM to keep it out of the coalition’s hands.”

“What is the UPM anyway? And this coalition thing? I still don’t know what is going on.”

“Alright. I’ll try to give you the elevator pitch. UPM stands for the united protection movement. We try to give everyone a chance no matter their employment, ability, etcetera. Think mutual aid but more large scale. Basically everything the coalition is against. Shit where do I start with the coalition? They are kind of an alliance between some of the higher powers in the city. CEOs, billionaires, the police chief, you name it and they have their fingers in that pie. People who just want to compound their power and who get away with whatever they want. They have these hitmen on call to do their dirty work who hole up at that building where we first met. If anyone dares to disobey these powerful people, they sic those thugs on them. If renters dare start to rise up, if there’s another shipment in the human trafficking trade, those are their go-to guys. So yeah, the coalition is an extremely corrupt power that pulls the strings in this city, but their influence reaches far past state lines.” They conclude when they see the stunned expression on Carter’s face as he tries to let that all sink in.

“So, the Sweitzer Vase?” Naji asks, turning toward Carter with an impatient expression.

“Yeah, shit- okay. Well, my bosses were being all hush-hush about this one shipment. They get that way about higher up clients though so I didn’t think much of it. Then I saw the garish thing and thought it was an art dealer or something, you know? I packed it up and brought it to the korean district. A man met me outside the address and he fit the profile: he had this expensive vibe about him, you know? So he signed off and had a lackey pull the crate out of the van. Didn’t let me even touch it. Then two nights later some guys come into my apartment and chloroform me. And I wake up tied to a chair and they want to know the whereabouts of that stupid vase I’d basically forgotten about by then, we do so many shipments a day after all.”

“And did you tell them?”

“No, I didn’t give them shit. I don’t think I even confirmed I was the one who delivered it. They were assholes.”

Emille is grinning. “Hell yeah.” They lean over to fist bump him.

“The man, what did he look like?” Naji is rubbing her chin. 

“A little shorter than me. Nice navy suit with gold filigrees. He had dark skin. Gold eyeliner. Light eyes, maybe hazel? He wore black leather gloves and had his guys show him the vase before he signed.” 

“Did you catch his name? Maybe you could read his signature?” Her attitude is less accusatory than before and has changed into something more relaxed. She seems almost curious. 

“No, sorry. My bosses would have the actual paper.”

“That’s alright. I’m almost certain that it was Mister Gareth Kodua.” She motions and Emille hands her one of the folders scattered on the table. “The korean district is basically coalition free. We’ve made a deal with the people there. So the address you went to is almost certainly planted by somebody else. I suspect Mister Kodua intercepted, maybe bribed your bosses. But now we know the vase wasn’t switched out somewhere along the way. Someone got to it first.” She starts reading through the file.

“There are other people who want the vase but want nothing to do with the coalition. Don’t like what they stand for.” Emille adds between typing away on their phone. The room falls back into silence, this time the kind of silence that falls during study halls, full of purpose. 

Except Carter is not included in that purpose. He feels strange sitting and watching the two work. He misses having his phone if only for something to do with his hands. He gnaws at his thumbnail to stop himself from picking at the bandaids.

Joao shuffles into the common space. He runs his hand through his bedhead. “Mornin’”

“Another art dealer has the vase.” Naji says without preamble.

His eyes widen. “No shit.” He comes over and sits between Emille and Naji, leaning over her to see what she is looking at. He lets out a low whistle.

Emille looks up from their phone. “Orion has confirmation. Mister Kodua was on 3rd ave eleven days ago. Then seen bringing something up to his penthouse.”

“His security is good. I’m worried about who his buyer might be though. The coalition has too much to lose with such a major donor.”

“I’ll go make breakfast.” Joao stands. From how he casually excuses himself, Carter gets the impression that this type of high-pressure conversation is a regular occurrence here. “Any allergies?” He asks Carter, who shakes his head. Joao stretches his arms above his head, showing off how much of a bean pole he is. Carter laughs at himself for being frightened of him yesterday. 

“We need to have a word with Mister Kodua. Make sure that the vase won’t be intercepted again.” Naji says half to herself and half to Emille.

They go back and forth between the two of them, Carter barely understanding half of what they are saying. They keep reaching for more papers and spreading them out between them, pointing at different points. 

The sizzle of butter and smell of pancakes emanates from the stove. Carter stands and leaves without either of them noticing, the two too engrossed in their planning. Joao is humming as he ladles more batter onto the pan. 

Carter refills his mug with hot water. He uses one hand to idly bob the teabag up and down. “They always like this?”

He looks over his shoulder. Emille and Naji are quibbling over some details, their voices slightly raised. “Yeah. But they get shit done. I just leave them to it.” He smiles and goes back to flip the pancake with a satisfying flick of his wrist. “How are you?”

“Good. You?”

Joao turns his gaze onto him. He puts one hand on his hip. It would look more intimidating if not for the floral apron he is wearing. “You are so not alright, are you kidding me? This isn’t some empty question. I actually want to know -- as your nurse -- what is happening in your mind and body. How’s your pain?”

“It’s okay.” He is met with a glare but there is not much heat behind it. “Yeah it hurts but it’s fine if I don’t do the wrong thing with my abs. Or move my neck wrong.”

Joao shifts the plate of pancakes towards him. “Here. The meds are better when there’s something in your stomach. You haven’t already taken one this morning have you?”

“No. I still have the extra from last night anyway.”

“Shit. And you were able to sleep through the night?”

“I’m fine, really.” He mumbles. “I don’t like how they make me feel. Do you have any celecoxib or something though? My prescription is at my apartment.”

“Sure I can get something similar. I need to give you another once-over though to make sure you don’t have too much internal bleeding.” He cocks his head. “Why were you on that?”

“Costochondritis. So the rib pain is fine. I'm used to it already.” He says with a smile. He has a dark sense of humor around all this. He has to or else he would drown in it.

Joao does not seem to find the humor though. “I’m sorry to hear that. Sounds rough.”

Carter quickly backpedals. “No it’s alright, really. I’m not complaining. Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”

“Dude you’re fine. If you’re gonna stay with us I should probably get a full medical history from you anyway.” Stay with them? Carter feels his eyes grow wide. “Don’t sweat it. Really.”

Carter nods numbly. He watches another pancake get set onto the plate’s growing pile.

“Do me a favor and take another pain med with breakfast? Even if you can cope, a lot of pain can make you tense up and move abnormally and can slow down the healing process. At least take them today?” Carter stares down at his cooling tea. He has yet to drink any of it. “Okay I think that should be enough. Bring the plate out to the table?”

The dining table is low and has three chairs around it. Carter hovers awkwardly, wondering if he should step away. Emille has disappeared, presumably to get their sister. Naji rolls over to the dining table and only then does the height of the table make sense. It has been well used with various stains and coffee rings across its surface.

Joao comes over with five plates then drags over a folding chair for Carter. “Sit. And take as much as you want to eat, I can always make more.”

Carter obeys. Getting down to the seat still hurts, but he has found a way to move that does not make his vision spot with the pain of using his abs. When Naji glances at him from across the table, it no longer feels accusing and like he is unwelcome here. Her attention slips off of him and onto fixing her plate, not waiting for the others to be seated. Carter hesitantly reaches across and begins loading his own plate up as well. Tasha and Emille emerge from one of the other bedrooms, bumping into each other as they walk.

It has the informal atmosphere of a daily household, or at least what one is supposed to be like anyway, although Carter does not have the best basis for that. Emille pops into the kitchen to get themself a glass of water then plops back into their seat. They kick their legs up onto Tasha’s lap, who squawks and playfully shoves the socked feet off. Joao stifles a laugh which ends up coming out as more of a snort. These four are clearly family. 

Carter cannot help but smile as he takes it all in. He eats his pancakes quietly, then slips out to grab his last pill and washes it down with the stale half-glass of water. The haze sets in unpleasantly and he has to focus to walk straight when he goes back towards the common space. 

The table has been cleared and is once again covered in papers. Naji is moving things around to set up. Carter hovers at the end of the hall, wondering if he should stay out of earshot of their secret organization meeting. He has no sense of where to be or what to do in this place. No one has told him what they expect of him yet so he defaults into staying out of sight and out of mind as much as possible. Joao makes that difficult. And Emille now, apparently.

“Carter, you comin? You’re a part of this too.” Emille calls, waving him over.

He hesitates, glancing around the table. He fidgets with his shirt sleeve.

“At least for now.” They say, meaning ‘for as long as you want’ but Carter interprets it as ‘until we are done with you.’ He sits anyway.

Tasha seems mostly alright. She is a little slow when asked a question, but that is something Carter knows intimately. Between medication and pain and brain fog it can be difficult to pull thoughts out from the muck. Turns out that she does have a few broken foot bones and one of her fingers. Joao has them splinted and wants her to keep off them but she insists she is fine. Joao throws his hands up with a huff while exclaiming how “no one listens to me here so what’s the point in even keeping me around?” Tasha wraps him in a hug until he relents that he is a valuable part of the team. 

Naji has Carter, Tasha, and Emille update the schematics of the coalition building. It only needs a few tweaks. Carter has to close his eyes and backtrack through those hazy walks through the building. Tasha seems similarly iffy on the details. They get it down more-or-less where they slept and were tortured. Tasha remembers a few rooms that she passed by. Carter is impressed, he barely remembers even being dragged up a half-flight of stairs. He was not expecting to get out of there so there was no reason to remember it.

Turns out they had known about that building for a while. It is the coalition headquarters. It took a year to find a flaw in their security: a shift change that left fewer guards and gave them an opening. They had gotten one of their own people in there to distract and to give Emille the passcode.

Carter feels responsible for them burning their opportunity at getting into the building. He has to remind himself that they were not there for him. Emille went there for Tasha, that is it. It is a lucky break that they broke him out at all. He would still be slowly dying of blood loss and infection if not for them. 

A fiercely protective feeling surges through him. He does not want to lose these people. They do not feel the same but he will soak up every moment he can get with them before he has to go back to being all alone again.

--------------

His back is aching something awful and he cannot stop wringing his hands or bouncing his leg, both of which hurt his injured skin and muscles. Even with the tips of his fingernail-less fingers covered, every bump brings those injuries back to the forefront of his mind. He is worried he is distracting the others, jostling Emille who is sharing the couch with him. “Does anyone have a heat pack?” 

“Yeah, I got you.” Tasha sets down her water glass then half-jogs down the hall. There is the sound of her splint hitting the ground every other step as she comes bounding back. She stops in front of the couch and holds the rolled up heat pad towards him.

He plugs it into the wall and settles it against his lower back. It quickly works to ease his muscle pain. Tasha plops down between him and Emille, who grumbles and bats their hand at her distractedly. 

“Hey.” She says. She smiles more with her eyes than her mouth. There is blood caked along her lower lip and her cheekbone is swollen and splotched purple.

“Hey. How are you doing?”

“I’m worse for wear but Joao says I should heal nicely.”

“That’s good.” Silence falls over them. Carter does not know how to talk to Tasha. He is pretty sure this is the first time they have spoken one-on-one.

“Okay, real talk, I need to interact with someone who won’t avoid all that coalition torture shit.”

He smiles. “Yeah. I totally get that.”

“Not the best vacation I’ve ever had.”

Carter snorts. “Oh my gosh. That’s right, it was surprise time off from work for me too.”

“Guess I must be a workaholic then because I kind of missed this place.”

“How’d they nab you?”

“I was staking out the delivery address -- the actual delivery address -- and when the shipment didn’t show up they got kind of… angry.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. The person who tortured me wouldn’t stop asking me questions even though I didn’t know shit. And they wouldn’t shut up!”

“God, her monologuing was more torture than when she used her instruments.”

“I know right! My person was so annoying. Are there comment cards? We should go back just to give them constructive criticism.”

“Oh my god.” Emille says.

“Hey, we’re the traumatized ones here, we get to say what’s alright to joke about.”

As they continue talking, Carter finds he has met his match in terms of dark humor. She is able to joke with him about all the fucked up shit that happened to them. He thinks that she would react well if he ever slips and jokes about his other issues.

They keep each other company as Joao gives them each a once over. Tasha clenches her teeth as he has her move her hands and feet. She then goes on to tell embarrassing stories about the others while Joao presses against Carter’s belly and Carter fights the urge to throw up or cry out. Laughing helps to distract him. At least until he laughs so hard that he is doubled over in both delight and pain. She eases back on the humor at that point. 

His chest feels lighter after that. Dinner goes by with less anxiety. The feeling that Naji hates him has since faded. As soon as he revealed his information she welcomed him into their operation without question. It helps that their enemy tortured him for a week without him breaking. Enemy of my enemy and all that.

In the middle of the night Carter wakes in pain. He gives in and takes another pain pill. It is easier to sleep after that.

He wakes slowly on the second morning. As much as he hates the feeling of being drugged, it is nice to get rest for once. It has been long before he was kidnapped since he got a full night’s sleep. He takes his time to rouse and lazily rolls out of bed.

When he looks back, his heart drops. Spots of blood have seeped into the white sheets. His face flushes with dread and fear. He forgets everything else and leaves, watching himself walk down the hall from a little behind himself and to the left. 

Emille is at the sink dealing with dishes. Carter must have missed breakfast. He walks in and stops awkwardly to the side, refusing to make eye contact with them. He attempts to psych himself up and still the pounding of his heart. The faucet turns off and he can feel their eyes on him. Panic flutters in his chest and his hands are sweaty as he wrings them. 

He can barely get the words out as he stares at the floor. “Sorry, I think- I got blood on your sheets.” He cringes then quickly adds on, stumbling over himself. “I can buy you replacement ones though. Shit I’m so sorry I really didn’t mean to!”

“Pfft. Apologizing for bleeding on shit? Are you kidding? You’re fine, that’s what bleach is for.” They give him an easy smile that tells him honestly that it is alright. He is relieved. “Here, help me dry.” They hand him a dish towel and a wet plate. 

He takes them and tries to return the smile but it is fragile. He busies himself with drying and lets the motion soothe him. He puts the plate into the open cabinet.

They have another ready when he looks back. But instead of letting go when he takes it, they resist and it forces him to look at them. Their eyes are searching and they cock their head at him. “Who taught you that you don’t have the right to take up space?”

He laughs, delightfully surprised by the directness of the question. No one has ever given a shit about these things before. Everyone has just edged around the trauma, pretended it was not there. Emille gives him a confused smile to go along with his laughter. He is breathless when he replies. “My mom mostly. She was a real asshole.”

“Was?”

“Probably still is. I moved cities and blocked her on all social media. Cut myself off from my whole family. Guess I’m the black sheep of that family but fuck if I care because I’m not part of it anymore.”

“That sounds like a hard but really good decision. I’m proud of you.”

They say it so nonchalantly, like they have not just sucked the air out of Carter’s lungs. He gapes at them but they continue scrubbing at a dish. He does not know if they are averting their eyes purposefully but he appreciates it. “Thank you.” He says, his voice small.

Emille hands him another plate to dry. “You’re the one who did the work. Seems to me like you should be thanking yourself.”

Once they finish clearing the pile of dirty dishes from the sink, Carter rifles through the refrigerator. He finds some frozen sausage and combines it with the tupperwared scrambled eggs to make a breakfast burrito for himself. Not long after he starts in on a book he has borrowed from Tasha does Joao insist on doing another physical exam.

A whole ass exam, walking up and down the hall on his heels and tiptoes and everything. 

“How am I looking, nurse Joao?” He asks as his eyes follow said man’s finger.

“No signs of a concussion anymore.” He clicks off his pen light. “Lie down so I can palpate your abdomen.”

Carter does so and tries not to flinch too hard when fingers press into his bruised ribs.

“Sorry. Just a little more.”

He tilts his head back and tries hard to focus on the ceiling. It is painted black and has metal buttresses along it. Much more pleasant to look at than that of the torture room, for several reasons.

“Okay. All done.” He pulls down his shirt and sits up. Joao is looking at a clipboard. “Have you had any surgeries?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m making a chart for you. I can’t go making medical decisions for you without all the information now can I?”

“You don’t want to deal with my complicated medical history. Believe me.” Carter gives a self-deprecating smile. “I’ll be out of your hair soon enough so I’ll save you the trouble.”

“If you insist.” He says, clearly not convinced. He caps his pen and sets the papers down. “Then if I’m not going to be your nurse right now I might as well be your friend. How do you spend your time?”

“Huh?”

“I find it to be a kinder question than what you do for work, especially because so many people are unemployed or have incredible hobbies on the side.”

“Um. Not much. Work kind of takes everything I’ve got. Then I watch Netflix until I can sleep. I cook a little, I guess, does that count as a hobby?”

“Yes, definitely! Do you have long hours?”

“No, just…” How does he explain this without divulging all his health shit. Dealing with the pain and fatigue takes up so much time that he can barely keep up. He shrugs. “How do you spend your time?”

“When I’m not patching up this lot, I run errands for UPM or I offer medical services to the community. We have connections all over the city so I’ll coordinate with a couple others in UPM and we book up a weekend.”

“Wow that’s good on you. I wish I volunteered.”

“It’s not in everyone’s capacity though. And there’s no shame if you aren’t up for it. You shouldn’t give up more of yourself than you have.”

Plans start coming together. It is much more complex than Carter would have thought to organize all this. They have contacts who will help to cover their tracks: clearing video feeds and giving them loaner cars. They have to switch out Emille’s license plate which goes by with practiced ease. Then the more mundane things like shipments coming through for the cooperative. UPM deals mostly with mutual aid in the community, it seems, bail funds and food and clothing. Fighting in the small ways consistently and in the big ways whenever the opportunity reveals itself. Like intercepting a vase that could seal the fate of fascism in the area.

Carter is sorting files into alphabetical order, hoping that could help with how often someone sifts through them, frustrated that they cannot find the one they are searching for. He has taken up one of the couches to himself while the others rifle through the storage room or scribble at the dining table turned work table. Joao and Emille are out doing some errand. Carter has lost track of the plan so many times that he has given up on knowing what is going on. 

Sorting the papers is kind of relaxing, and it helps to soothe the feeling of uselessness as he eats their food and uses their medical supplies without paying them back. He sighs and picks up another crinkled pile.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Naji says as she rolls into the room. She reaches into a pouch on her chair and pulls something out with a rattle. “Joao told me to give you these.” She hands him an orange pill bottle. 

It is the anti-inflammatory he had requested. He gapes at the bottle. He had thought he would not get this prescription without going back to his apartment. “How do you all get your medications? With you being off the grid, it’s not like you can get a prescription without being found right? Or are you anonymous enough that it’s fine?”

“Joao has a hook up for medical supplies. There are doctors around the city that are part of the cause. It’s their contribution to UPM. Also gets me some top notch doctors for my health issues.”

Carter nods. Previously he had thought it would be impossible for him to stay here, just the stuff of daydreams, what with his appointments and medications and having to earn money to support himself. But these people seem to manage being off the grid just fine.

It takes a few hours of phone calls, but Emille says they are good to go full steam ahead with meeting Mister Gareth Kodua. They take that and run with it, making plans and coordinating while Carter feels useless on the couch. He tries to read a book but he is on his third attempt at this paragraph when Joao’s voice pulls him from his own head.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

“Huh?”

“You said you can cook. Want to show us your skills?”

“I said I cook ‘a little.’ I don’t think I’m good enough to make food for other people.”

“Can’t be worse than when Tasha set the kitchen on fire that one time.” He says, purposefully loud.

A voice comes from one of the bedrooms. “Hey! That was one time! And it was just some stray oil.”

He smirks. “So, you up to the task?”

“I’ll give it a shot.” He surveys the random ingredients in the kitchen and an hour later has some taco makings laid out. 

“Sorry it’s not much.”

“Are you kidding? This is really good!” Tasha exclaims, mouth full of her third taco.

The others join in to give him praise unanimously. He is a little overwhelmed, but smiles secretly to himself, proud to have contributed to the light and happy atmosphere.

Naji puts a map down, weighted by her water glass and the napkin holder. “Here is where Mister Kodua lives. His security is tight so we will notify him of our approach and people will come down to greet us and give us access to the penthouse through the elevator.”

They start quibbling about who should go. Emille of course, since they are the one who set this all up. Without them to vouch for the group, their meeting would be on shaky foundations. Tasha wants to contribute to the conversation but everyone agrees they do not want her on the first mission since the last one went south. They each settle who is and is not going until only Carter is left. He is surprised they turn to him, or even remember he is here at all.

“I can come with.” He manages. “Just in the car, I mean. And you guys can drop me off near my apartment. I live on the west end.”

“Okay.” Emille says. Their voice sounds almost disappointed. 

He must be imagining it though. There is so much he does not understand around here. Why would they want him to stay?

next chapter

Innocence?

Summery:   How could Zhora let that be destroyed? Worse, how could she prevent it? The more she thought, the more she realised that it was already unavoidable. Zoe was right, curse it. Solis wouldn’t stop with just Zhora, not after Wyst and Zoe had dug their heels in. They’d suffer too, no matter what Solis actually said. Zhora and Zoe have a discussion the night before they go after Solis. ************** Space. It was a word to invoke thought. A distance as much as a destination. So much of nothing it became something. Something became nothing. Infinite became irrelevant within a few strides and grew with time. Outer space was infinite. The void between life. A chasm to suspend reality. Poems sung of hanging the stars in the skies. Compared their gleam to diamonds, whispered their deepest desires on a star falling from the inky blankets of space. Science spoke of the stars as echoes of what had been. To see a star, sometimes, was to see when it had already died. The brightest beauty of something past. Something out of reach. Some viewed space as a negative, as something empty. Others viewed it as something full of possibility. As something to fill until space no longer existed. The space to hang a child’s painting on the wall. Space for flowers to grow. A place for a ship to dock... euphemism intended. The list of the ways space could be filled was immense, especially to someone as creative as Zhora. For Zhora, space simply was. At the moment, it was fucking freezing. Yes, the stars were beautiful. Yes, the distance between her and her target meant she would not die that day. The space between brain and heart would keep her alive. That didn’t eliminate the literal chill just outside the hull. It didn’t dismiss the loneliness embedded in her soul. Literal or emotional, it was cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. As so many did, she used space. With engines, the infinity of space shrunk into insignificant hours between planets. With plants and weapons, she filled her walls. With the shots from her rifle, she filled the distance between herself and the enemy. With contacts in every port, she filled other spaces... at least for a time. Some longer than others. Another euphemism intended. The one space she could never fill was that of loneliness. Of emotional emptiness so stabbing it could threaten to cut. Her mind resisted well. It was of stone. Uncompromising. In control. Ahead of the game. She had to be. If she wasn’t, she would be dead. Both her and her crew would pay. That was where her heart of glass came into play. So fragile was her heart that she protected it fiercely. When it came to heart or head, she chose her head. The death of friends was merely a dent in her business and profits. The angst of her crew would pass with the storm; all she had to do was hold tightly to her beliefs. Cling to that lifeline of logic and rationality. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her crew. She did. Truly. They were near her while she slept. They technically had unrestricted access to all her weapons, supplies and her quarters. It was very rare she locked her quarters anymore, not when Zoe could hack the security within a minute. Only her word kept them from acting out. Although, truthfully, her word didn’t always bind them. They disobeyed. Went over her head. Between her knees. Around her outstretched fingers. So long as it benefitted Zhora, no angle was too obscure for them to take. They practically lived on the phrase “Better to ask forgiveness than permission.” Something which had only gotten worse since Zoe had taken the role of Engineer. The two other women aboard the ship were trouble together. It was a good thing Zhora was practically addicted to their brand of trouble. Anyone else might have done some serious damage to the Kid or the Cutie. That thought always made Zhora’s brows feel heavier and her teeth ache, even when she didn’t adopt a snarl. The thought of losing either Wyst or Zoe was...it churned more unpleasantly in her gut than any poisoning she had ever suffered. These girls were her crew. Her family. Her loves, aside from her weapons and adrenaline. She was efficient when she showered, providing she was alone. She cleaned quickly, washed her mermaid inspired hair, dried and dressed within the space of ten minutes. As it stood, she had no intention of entertaining guests. With 200,000 credits painted across her back, she wanted to keep herself clothed and ready. Sure, luring some company may be fun, whether it be the pleasure of touch or combat, yet Zhora had more to think about than just her own entertainment. It was dressed in her typical armored pants and crop top that she stepped back into her room, only to be greeted by a familiar sight. In the dim lighting of her quarters the light of her workbench was a supernova, dragging Zhora’s eyes. There, she found herself staring at Zoe Rayner’s shadowed back. The tight body suit she wore was standard Union Colony, yet it did leave very little to the imagination. The way the suits melded to their wearers put everything on display, every curve, muscle and bone. In Zoe’s case, it did wonders for the lithe woman’s back, and her backside. Zhora watched for a few moments, almost hypnotised by the steady undulating of Zoe’s sharp shoulder blades beneath the green fabric. Every time Zoe pulled a pin into alignment or moved to grasp another tool was a shadow dance, something for Zhora to feast her eyes on. Perhaps it could delay the inevitable. Zoe kept herself organised to perfection. On her left was where she had laid out the deconstructed weapon parts apparently by size and importance. Barrels, piping extensions, firing pins. Plasma packs. Electronics. Grips. Everything was so neat that it could only be an Engineer’s layout. To her right was an array of tools. Delicate tools, each laid out on black fabric that emphasised their pristine condition. Beyond Zoe’s instant reach, different components lingered, many pieces fused together in ways Zhora was not completely sure she could ever understand. Zoe’s brain was wired so differently from any engineer Zhora had ever worked with, yet the Colony Girl was an utter genius. Her unique brain and concepts had saved Zhora’s life numerous times, as well as allowed Zoe to bend countless rules. Namely, hacking her way into Zhora’s room when the Captain refused to communicate. “What are you doing, Cutie?” Zhora called as she approached, having to bite back a victorious smirk when Zoe gave a small eeeekkk of alarm. Zoe was an absolute image. One knee raised defensively as her other foot stretched for the ground. Bare toes barely grazed the floor, given the chair was designed for Zhora’s superior height. The Engineer had some form of screwdriver raised across her chest, wielding the tool like a weapon in her alarm. Zhora couldn’t help but let her smirk grow a little at the sight of Zoe’s heaving bosom, once more silently thankful for the Union Body Suits. As usual, no curve was left to imagination, and the way Zoe had twisted her hip in preparation of an attack left more than her breasts on display. The shapely curve of her hip and rump stretched the material, which also clung to her lean stomach. The clear panels gave Zhora a view of skin, nothing indecent. “Zhora! I was just... well. After the Ghost gun, I was seeing if I could make my pistol more reliable. Incase... incase. If anything goes wrong, I want to have a backup.” Zoe hurried to explain, relaxing from her improvised martial arts form to slumping in the chair. Relaxed, Zhora could see the strain in Zoe’s arms. The metaphoric weight on the Engineer’s shoulders which seemed to be affecting her quite literally. “Zoe-“ “Aside from the programming to the Ghost gun, I was thinking of taking similar coding and programming it into the attachable -“ Zoe continued to babble, waving her hands wildly as she spun around to face her components once more. Zhora wanted to follow along, she truly did, yet she was caught up in the perky engineer’s excitement. Zoe was magnetic once she became passionate; her energy was almost like an inferno swallowing all in its path. Somehow, Zoe became infectious when she was like this. The inferno never harmed those whom it consumed. Instead, it filled Zhora with a pleasant warmth; a feeling which radiated from the centre of her chest. This passion was for HER. Zoe was so dedicated to these weapons because the Engineer wanted to save Zhora. The Captain couldn’t fathom how she had earned such loyalty, only that she strove to earn it. That she kept waiting for Zoe to run. To leave. Still, Zoe stayed, striving further and further away from her safe life and into danger. All for Zhora. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.” Zhora found herself cutting Zoe off mid explanation. This caused Zoe to pause. The clink of a tool hitting the bench was the only warning Zhora had before she found herself staring straight into the steely face of Zoe Rayner. Deep brown eyes shone. No, shone implied too much softness. Zoe’s eyes blazed. They were the black holes which summoned Zhora’s gaze. The hardest edges of determination stole Zhora’s voice, even as Zoe’s soft brows furrowed in unspoken frustration. There it was. A brief moment where the two halves of Zoe warred. Her kindness and patience softened the blow, yet the fiery determination and outrage was akin to a sledgehammer into Zhora’s gut. Would Zoe offer another tongue lashing, or would her patience prevail? “I know what I have signed up for. I’m not a Little Colony Girl anymore. You’ve shown me how the Galaxy works. The truth of it.” It was a very true statement, Zhora realised. When she stared at Zoe, the Captain could no longer see the meek little colony girl. She saw her Engineer, a woman who could bring the Galaxy to its knees in prayer. Zoe was the stereotype of normal colony kid. Every common aspect of her seemed crafted to perfection, causing what should have been an ordinary looking girl to gleam amidst the stars. Honey and Gold had been mixed to create the perfect shade of blonde for Zoe. Her hair hung from its messy ponytail, always vibrant in its chaos. Zhora briefly wondered how much one would pay for such a treasure. The thought was banished. She didn’t want Zoe to become ruined for something as common as credits. “This isn’t something I can undo, Zoe. So far, everything has been something we could fix if you decided you wanted out. This... I can’t protect you from. If you regret this, I can’t...” Zhora almost hated herself. For the first time, control was completely out of Zhora’s grasp. She had been so careful, introducing the Outlaw life to Zoe in situations that wouldn’t scar the young Engineer. Zhora had executed her iron grip to ensure that Zoe wasn’t hurt. Wasn’t sullied beyond repair. Now, there was nothing to shield Zoe from the darkness. Zhora couldn’t sacrifice her own body to shield the girl, nor could she manipulate the situation so that Zoe wouldn’t suffer. What would happen when Zoe pulled the trigger? Would such an act break her? The very real possibility that this would destroy everything Zoe was weighed on Zhora’s heart. She couldn’t watch those fires in Zoe’s eyes die, nor see Zoe’s gentleness fade. Not the girl who spoke to her pistol and bandaged wounds with the gentlest hands. Zhora was placing her life in Zoe’s callused palms, along with the most dangerous weapon in the known Galaxies. Was Zhora worth it? “I know, Zhora. I tried to be bothered by it, but I’m not. Solis has hurt millions of people, and will continue to do so. She won’t stop trying to hurt you. I can’t let her take away the best thing to ever happen to me, okay? If it’s a choice between taking her life or watching you die, I’ll pull the trigger every time.” “Zoe. You’re taking a life. Not just in the heat of the moment, but premeditated. It’s not just a kill, it’s an assassination. I can’t as-“ “You really don’t get it do you? I love you. Wyst loves you. You’re our friend, and our Captain. We both owe you everything, and we WANT to help you. I can’t let you die. I won’t. The galaxy isn’t always nice, and I can’t always play nice if I want to protect what I love.” Zoe cut Zhora off with her impassioned speech, her eyes appearing to burn even darker. The Engineer trembled with the ferocity of her emotions. Zhora herself froze, reconciling the power Zoe emanated with their first meeting. Oh, how times had changed. “So, yeah. You’re not asking, I am telling you... I‘m ready. I’m doing it. Deal with it.” The Engineer concluded, spinning so that she could resume her work on the parts. For a long time, they remained silent. Zoe’s powerful words echoed in Zhora’s head, leaving the Captain staggering beneath their weight. Without realising it, Zhora found her fingers teasing the bottom of Zoe’s ponytail, taking in the softness of perfectly kept hair. It was another thing that made Zoe stand out. Her hair was natural, compared to the splashes of colour Wyst put through hers and the Blue to Green wash through Zhora’s hair. Zoe didn’t seem phased or distracted by Zhora’s fidgeting. Zoe’s hands remained remarkably steady as she worked. She had magnets dancing in their fields with such ease. A little flick would see those magnets dance; something which always drew a smile from Zoe. It was such an innocent thing to watch, magnets bouncing and Zoe smiling. The little giggles she let forth before licking her lips and settling down. Pink peeped out the corner of Zoe’s mouth, pinched between delicate lips. The tip of her tongue expressed so much. When she was annoyed, it ran across her lower lip; a cat’s tail swishing. When she was on the verge of success, the tip of her tongue peeped a little further out, chasing down victory. When Zoe paused to think, she rolled her tongue over the same place of her top lip for minutes on end. These little gestures were accompanied the adorably dorky scrunch of her nose, and a pursing of her lips to the right. Her left eye closed a little more than her right, yet her work remained unaffected. How could Zhora let that be destroyed? Worse, how could she prevent it? The more she thought, the more she realised that it was already unavoidable. Zoe was right, curse it. Solis wouldn’t stop with just Zhora, not after Wyst and Zoe had dug their heels in. They’d suffer too, no matter what Solis actually said. “I like the gumption, New Girl. Keep it up and I might let you have a look at some new designs.” Zhora eventually stated, breaking from her own dark musings. The surprise she felt at herself was echoed in Zoe’s wide eyes. “I’d like that.” Zoe’s response was level, yet she clearly couldn’t force herself to stop smiling. Zhora was thankful for the casualness of her response. It startled the Captain that she had even made such an offer. It was another breech in her security. Another door Zoe had hacked her way through, seemingly effortlessly. Offering such closeness was not Zhora. It was too hard to let people get this close. It made the inevitable loss too difficult to cast aside. Zhora couldn’t afford this. With Wyst, she had sworn it would be her only exception. Zoe made a liar out of her. That damned determined, fiery little colony girl. Damn Zoe, for being an actually interesting person. Damn Zoe for making Zhora actually care. Zhora may have been putting the most dangerous weapon created in Zoe’s hands, along with her own life, yet Zhora couldn’t help feeling as if she carried the most weight of them all. The weight of Zoe’s future. The weight of Zoe’s innocence.

One Afternoon

Idol: Taeyeon (SNSD)

Prompt: since requests are closing soon i'm going to request this: TaeyeonxFem!Reader | Tattoo Parlor AU & Soulmate AU (Changing tattoo that tells you the coordinates of where your soulmate is) | fluff | Girls' Generation (Jessica included) runs a tattoo parlor and everyone has found their soulmate but Taeyeon hasn't and was starting to lose hope. One day the reader decides to get a tattoo there, but doesn't notice that her coordinates change, until Taeyeon, while doing her tattoo points it out.

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: So this request has seriously been in our inbox for ages now. I’m sorry that it took us so long to write it, but I hope you all enjoy!

♡ Tip Jar♡

Taeyeon loved her job. She loved making designs and carefully tattooing them into her client’s skin, loved creating permanent art, and loved being a part of her client’s most intimate memories and thoughts. She’d always been artistic, and tattooing had come almost naturally to her. As soon as she’d tried it for the first time, she’d been hooked: she knew that she wanted to do this for the rest of her life.

It helped that she loved getting tattoos herself too. There were plenty of reasons that she liked covering her skin in intricate ink designs. But the biggest reason had to do with one certain tattoo on her skin. One that she hadn’t put there on purpose.

Her soulmate tattoo. Everyone was born with one. It was supposed to tell you the coordinates of your soulmate, and when you matched coordinates with someone no matter where the two of you went, you could know that you’d found your soulmate. The problem was that Taeyeon’s tattoo had never once changed. In fact, ever since she was born, she’d had the coordinates of the shop she now worked at on her wrist. The numbers never changed.

Apparently, her soulmate was the Generations Tattoo Shop.

“Taeyeon,” her fellow tattooist Tiffany said, knocking the other woman out of her thoughts as she came up to the desk, blowing a bubble in her gum. Her long black hair was shaved on one side of her head and pulled back into a ponytail, showing off her impressive neck tattoo and her collection of earrings. Today, she was wearing one of her favorites: the dragon that climbed up her ear. As usual, she was effortlessly beautiful in her minimal makeup. “Don’t forget about your appointment today at one. They’re a new client.”

“What time is it now?”

“Twelve-thirty. You should probably start readying your station.”

Taeyeon sighed and stood up, stretching her hands over her head and yawning. “You’re right. Sorry, I was spacing out. It’s been a long day.” She’d had back-to-back clients in all morning, and had barely gotten time to take a little lunch break. Her curly blonde hair was probably a mess in the bun she’d thrown it into that morning, but she didn’t have much time to fix it. She just tucked the strands that had fallen out behind her ear and fixed her glasses, taking off the jacket she’d put on to go get her lunch. Underneath, she was wearing a simple black t-shirt that accentuated the mostly black-and-white tattoos on her arms. It was nothing fancy, but she didn’t have the time to make herself look good. Now it would be back to business as usual.

“As usual, you’re our most popular artist.” Grinning, Tiffany patted her shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do.” She raised her eyebrows. “Why do you look so excited?”

“Jessica is taking me out tonight. She said to dress nice, so I bet it’s somewhere fancy.” The other woman let out a love-sick sigh and sat in the now-abandoned desk seat. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I can tell.” It wasn’t that Taeyeon wasn’t happy for all her friends. Seriously, she was happy for them. But it was hard working with a bunch of women who’d already found their soulmates. “Have fun with that.”

“You know.” Tiffany snapped out of her love-struck daze to wiggle her eyebrows. “Maybe this new client could be the soulmate you’ve been looking for.”

“Tiffany....” Taeyeon sent her coworker a point look, raising one eyebrow.

“You can’t lose hope!”

“Sure, whatever you say. I’m gonna go prep my tools.” She walked away, ignoring Tiffany’s huff behind her. The other woman meant well, she really did. But Taeyeon wasn’t in the mood. It had been how many years now, and her tattoo had never once changed. She’d long accepted that her soulmate was work, and she was okay with that. Although it was a little sad to think about, especially when her eight coworkers were happy with their soulmates, it was better than stressing over a soulmate that would likely never come.

This was just her life now. And she’d accepted it.

-

You were right on time. At exactly one, you walked through the doors, a little smile on your lips as you greeted Tiffany and Taeyeon, who were sat behind the desk. Taeyeon took the time to notice that you already had a few tattoos, which was a relief. It would make the whole process easier.

“I’m here for my appointment with Taeyeon, my name is (Y/N),” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear, and Taeyeon stood, giving you a smile and reaching out her hand.

“Welcome to Generations Tattoo Shop (Y/N), I’m Taeyeon.”

“Thank you!” You shook her hand. “I’m excited for our session today, I’ve heard only good things about you.”

“I’m flattered,” she said honestly, putting her hand to her chest as her smile grew wider. “Thank you! Now, if we just want to go through a few forms, we can get started with this process!”

She’d already been emailing back and forth with you over ideas, as was custom at the shop, since she had too many clients for walk-ins. This meant that your design was already approved, stenciled, and ready to go when you sat down at the chair. Still, she let you take a look before she put it on, wanting to make sure that it was what you had in mind.

“I love it,” you said, and she could tell you meant it as you gazed at the design, a smile on your lips. “It’s wonderful.”

“Then am I okay to put it on your forearm?”

“Yes, please! Let’s get started!”

Some tattoo artists were talkative as they worked. For Taeyeon, it depended on the day and the design. For simple designs with a nice client, she could talk the whole time. With more intricate designs, it was better for her to focus and take her time. And for rude clients, she didn’t even grace them with conversation, just ready to get them over with. Her mood also depended on her amount of sleep the night before and what kind of clients she’d had that day. Thankfully, the day had gone smoothly and you were nice, so with this tattoo, despite it’s more intricate nature, she didn’t mind talking.

It was weird. She almost felt drawn to you, but she couldn’t explain why. It was easy to chat with you. Conversation just flowed naturally as the two of you talked about the changing fall weather, tattoos, and music, finding that the two of you had a lot in common. Taeyeon was pretty sure that she’d never been this chatty with any other clients, and from the way Tiffany and Yuri were making eyes at her over the counter, she figured they’d noticed it too. If her eyes weren’t mistaken, she was pretty sure Yuri was texting the rest of the girls.

Sure enough, minutes later, Tiffany and Yuri were joined behind the counter by Yoona, Yuri’s soulmate, and Sooyoung, the only other tattooists on duty. Taeyeon had no doubt that the group chat was blowing up. Still, she tried to ignore it, focusing on creating the perfect tattoo for you.

Once she was coming close to finishing the tattoo, the bottom of the design nearing the wrist, she noticed your soulmate tattoo. There hadn’t been a reason for her to look at it before (she’d long since grown out of the excitement of trying to find a soulmate) but now that she was tattooing near it, the coordinates caught her eye. And then her eyes widened. That was strange. She’d recognize those numbers anywhere.

“Hey, your coordinates are for this tattoo shop. That’s strange.”

Your eyes matched hers as you sat up, mouth dropping open. “Wait, really? There’s no way!”

“What?” She looked up, confused, sitting back to let you look at your wrist for yourself.

“It’s never changed before....” You trailed off, staring in awe. “It was always just at zero. I thought I was broken or something.”

Hope jumped up in Taeyeon’s chest, but she shoved it down, not wanting to be crushed again. “So this is the first time it’s changed?”

“Yeah. That’s so weird.” You looked at her. “How did you notice?”

“The coordinates caught my eye. It’s for the shop, obviously, but it’s also what my coordinates have been stuck at since I was a kid.” She held up her own wrist beside yours. The coordinates matched.

“Could this mean...?” The two of you stared at each other, and Taeyeon could feel her heart beating quicker than usual in her chest. Was Tiffany actually right?

“I don’t know. Mine has never changed, I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“But with you is the first time mine have ever changed. Is anyone else here single?”

“Well, no.”

“Then that leaves you.” You gave her a shy smile. “There is a way we could find out for sure.”

“What’s that?” She didn’t want to admit it, but she was excited. Hope that she couldn’t push down surged into her chest.

“After you finish my tattoo, do you want to go get coffee at the shop down the street?”

She checked the clock. She had a gap between you and the next customer. It was only an hour, but still. A lot could happen in an hour. Nervous all of a sudden, she cleared her throat and started up her tattooing machine again. “Let’s hurry and finish this tattoo again.”

Taeyeon never rushed her work, so she was lucky that she was almost done already. After finishing the last few touches and wiping off the excess ink, she let you see the final product before wrapping it up and giving you the care instructions. But neither of you were really focused on the specifics, rushing through the final paperwork before she let her coworkers know she was going to take a quick break.

There was snickering and excited calls to have fun as she left, but she decided she’d take care of the gossip later.

As the two of you walked, you both looked at your tattoos, waiting with bated breath. Slowly, the numbers began to change, and Taeyeon beamed, feeling tears of relief come to her eyes as she stared down at the changing numbers.

“Is this real?” You whispered, and Taeyeon nodded her head, looking up at the sky to hide her tears. The afternoon was bright, not a cloud in the sky, a weight of expectation lifted from her shoulders. After all these years, at last she’d found you.

“It’s real. I’m so glad I finally got to meet you.”

My Review of Kaguya-sama: Love is War

How did I get into this anime? It was about time to do it as this was one of the best animes to come from the winter 2019 anime line-up (after Dororo and The Promised Neverland). Now let’s hit…

Hold it Medea! Weren’t you supposed to review Darker Than Black for your Aniplex pick?

Ah, yes…THAT anime. I watched it. I finished it. It was a mind-fuck. I bailed on the review. And while I’m at it, I’m also not reviewing Psycho Pass 3, Violet Evergarden, or A Certain Scientific Accelerator. Onto Kaguya-sama!

Shuchiin Academy, once a school for students that are well-off financially. Nowadays, it’s still that, but even commoners can attend. And one such student is a boy by the name of Miyuki Shirogane, who in just his first year managed to obtain the top spot at the school with the position of Student Council President.  By his side is his vice president, Kaguya Shinomiya. This girl comes from extreme wealth and excels in many fields including art and music. The students here revere these two as being the best of the best. And also…they make a great couple!

Pump the brakes here, pal. These two are NOT a couple. As a matter of fact, both characters end up playing 3D chess in their brains to try and take the other person down with mind games if even the slightest topic involving love is brought up. Both Kaguya and Miyuki already have feelings for the other, they just won’t admit it. The first person to admit love will be considered the loser in this war. And both of these characters are stubborn to the point of…oh my god!

THESE TWO ARE TSUNDERES! I’ve seen animes where only one person is the tsundere in the couple. But what happens when they’re BOTH tsunderes? Well…it took over 20 episodes for Taiga on Toradora. It took over 4 seasons for Louise on Familiar of Zero. But those two animes had only ONE tsundere. This anime has TWO. We might be here for a while!

Well, let’s watch who wins and who loses in the game (or war) of love!

BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: Aniplex of America has a good grip on this anime as they have managed to license the second season before it has aired. Much to my dismay, this anime has not received an English dub. Aniplex of America has released the blu-ray last month ($100+ shipping and handling), but only with Japanese audio/English subtitles. Okay.

Now IF they decide to come back in a few years and dub this series, I have a few thoughts. And don’t say it’ll never happen. FUNimation and Sentai are guilty as fuck of releasing a series with no dub and two years later dropping a dub release just so they can grab extra dough.

I HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN NICHIJOU YOU GRIFTING CRAP-WEASELS!

Anyways, if they decide to do this, I want R. Bruce Elliott to voice the narrator. I don’t give a shit about the rest of the cast, I just want that for the narrator! That’s just my take on that matter. I know this would NEVER happen unless Elliott ends up in L.A. for a few sessions (as he’s mostly stationed in Texas). It’s just that he’s the best person to play a narrator in just about anything. Don’t believe me? Watch Space Dandy and Sgt. Frog and get back to me!

Oh! And just my luck, FUNimation plans on giving this series an English dub. Though it’ll be a while before we see anything due to COVID-19 mess! No rush, take your time. Rest up. Consider R. Bruce Elliot as the narrator. And we’ll see you after we get off quarantine!

The sub version consists of a lot of newer, yet familiar voices. As for Kaguya’s seiyuu (Aoi Koga), this is my first time hearing her voice and so far I’m impressed. I’m also impressed with an anime to have several tsunderes and no sign of Rie Kugimiya, the QUEEN of tsundere anime characters. That shows great dedication, but if she ends up in season two, I’m gonna scream. Here’s what you might recognize these folks from.

*Kaguya is played by Aoi Koga

*Miyuki is played by Makoto Furukawa (known for Saitama on One Punch Man, Hatsuharu on Fruits Basket 2019, and Banri on Golden Time)

*Chika is played by Konomi Kohara (known for Miu on Domestic Girlfriend, Fizel on SAO: Alicization, and Kai on Hitoribocchi)

*Yuu is played by Ryouta Suzuki (known for Ryouhei on Tsurune)

FAVORITE CHARACTER: Chika. Chika. Chika. Chika. Chika. And did I mention Chika?

Best girl!

SPEAKING OF CHIKA: I found an infectious little song in the form of an ending theme! For one episode, we got an ending theme song featuring Chika.

Chikatto Chika Chikaa♡! I just love it! This should win an award or something!

*several months later*

Thank you Crunchyroll Awards!

Seriously, this ED as well as the OP theme are just so infectious that I constantly go back to replay these two songs whenever I take a break from replaying Black Clover themes (no joke, I love Black Clover themes). The first ending is fine. It’s just that Chika’s special ED was so addicting that I had to mention it once, twice, or more!

SHIPPING: It’s pretty obvious to see that Kaguya and Miyuki are mad for each other. But there are several obstacles in their way. For one thing this is sort of their first love, so approaching this subject is very new. Secondly, both of them are dead-set on the fact that love is a war full of wins and losses. Both Kaguya and Miyuki play these mind-games when something mundane happens like a personality quiz or a weekend activity. They try to trap the other person into saying something embarrassing or admitting to something. Even though it’s so crystal clear that they both are romantically interested in each other!

However, I’m pretty sure Kaguya has lost more battles than Miyuki due to the infamous sick day episode. Sick Kaguya is pretty ballsy getting Miyuki to lay in bed with her.

FUNNIEST MOMENT: You can blame this on the fact that I’m absolutely immature and have the mind of an 8 year old. But there was a moment in mid-season where Chika learns of a specific quirk about Kaguya. Because Kaguya was suppressed when it came to matters of phrases and naughty words, she still finds the word “wiener” utterly hilarious. And so during this whole segment, you’ve got Chika continuously saying the word “wiener”. Then, she goes the extra mile to have other members of the student council like Miyuki and Yuu to say the word. And Kaguya is trying to prevent them from saying it until we just get a barrage of “wieners” and hysterical laughter. I gotta admit that it was one of the funniest moments in this series.

ENDING: A few episodes before the finale, a monumentous moment occurred. Kaguya got sick.

Just go with it!

Whenever Kaguya gets sick, her mind goes into a complete stupor. Her mind is almost that of an infant or small child and once she’s better, she will not remember a single thing that happened. And Miyuki was the poor sap to check on her during that sick day! I’ll cut to the chase and say what went down.

She opens her bed covers and drags Miyuki into bed with her. Now before your mind jumps in the trash, they remained fully clothed…although they both did fall asleep. So, they slept together. Just no intercourse! This kinda lead to a major fight involving a cake, an apology, and a cute moment where Kaguya touches his lip!

Hey, a girl who’s been sexually suppressed her whole life, this is like first base here.

I feel that was a bit of a breaking point to bring up on a count of a lot of the mind games stopped temporarily. Probably because the last two episodes of the season involved summer break! By the looks of it, Chika was having a blast eating so much and Yuu is doing his usual gaming stuff. All the while, Kaguya and Miyuki didn’t really do much during their break. But they promised to all meet up one day to see the fireworks. Unfortunately, that serves to be a daunting task for Kaguya as she’s been heavily sheltered her entire life. Her family (especially her father) never let her do things normal kids take for granted including going out with friends or even walking to school.

In fact, Kaguya’s plans of meeting up with Chika and others to go shopping were cancelled due to Kaguya’s father calling her to the main house…for literally nothing. Add to that, the family saw it in THEIR best interest to not allow Kaguya to leave the house to see the fireworks with her friends. But Kaguya decided to defy those orders! She gets her servant Hayasaka to disguise as her if any other servants come in and escaped her house. Yuu, Chika, and Miyuki were all in an agreement to save Kaguya…just not on the same wavelength. Kaguya on her own ended up missing the firework show. But once Miyuki found her, he took her and they went on a small adventure to another prefecture to see another firework show. But it could be cutting it close due to traffic and the show was reaching its end. Thankfully, they made it! Kaguya was finally able to see the fireworks with her friends.

It’s just that Kaguya didn’t pay attention to the firework show…she stared at Miyuki the whole time!

In the final segment of episode 12, Kaguya and Miyuki kinda realized how dorky they were the night of the firework show. Kaguya let her guard down so many times that night and spent the entire firework show staring at Miyuki. Meanwhile, Miyuki thought he sounded stupid when he took Kaguya to the show. We get one final mind-game between these two until it ended with Miyuki almost saying something and Kaguya chases him down while the end credits play on in the background.

Will either one of them say how they truly feel about the other? Who will win? Who will lose?

…Guess we’ll find out in a few days when season two airs!

This was an entertaining anime! It’s like if Death Note were a rom-com instead of a thriller. Both Kaguya and Miyuki have a similar mind-set to Light Yagami when it comes to the game of love. They both have the hots for each other and both refuse to admit it first. But thanks to key moments including Kaguya’s sickness and the firework saga, there’s been definite progress with these two letting their guards down. But they’ve got a long way to go! I mean, these two are major tsunderes meaning they’re going to suppress their wants and desires with the opposite sex with these ridiculous mind-games. So…we might be here for a while before any one of them admits their feelings. But I say give it a watch! It’s not that long of a series and it’s still fairly new so it’s still open for more sequels and side-projects before losing its luster.

Currently, this anime is available for streaming on Hulu, Crunchyroll, and FUNimation.

And stay tuned for the second season exclusively available on FUNima…You guys are really pissing me off with your exclusivity!

Okay, I managed to finish this baby up quite quick. What’s the next Aniplex title I’m going to watch?

Picture it, Medea. Osmosis Jones but…

Cells at Work?

That’s great. I’m also not reviewing this one. I have my own reasons for not reviewing this. So let’s hit the randomizer button again because as of this date, I finished Cells at Work.

Lord El-Melloi…I’M NOT READING ALL THAT SHIT! Sum it up quickly!

It’s Fate, but with Waver Velvet.

Jesus “Tap Dancing” Christ, it’s another Fate series! I’m not reviewing anything Fate! It’s a cluster-fuck of a series! Don’t get me wrong, I love Fate/Zero and Unlimited Blade Works as much as the next dip-shit, but the franchise is a pile of cluster bombs and I can’t make heads or tails of any of this. Regardless, I finished that hot mess as well.

Okay you picky-ass bitch, how about the best animated anime of the 2010’s?

Demon Slayer!

Now that’s more like it! But I will still fight to the death that best animated goes to Violet Evergarden!

Hey, about the sun moon combo descriptions, would you mind doing a description on scorpio sun pisces moon? Thank you💫

Hey there! 💕 Aaaah I love this one !! 💕

[Below Cut: Scorpio Sun - Pisces Moon 🌌] 

THE strongest creative minds and imaginations 

And also One of the NICEST person you will ever meet

I think I once described these people as like ‘fairy tale’ come to life and i still think it’s true

Has the cutest smile, they’re altruistic at heart and that’s why they’re usually adored by people around them 

They are so open-minded?? Like one of the friends who just wants the best for everyone (even tho they have problems themselves and may have a hard time dealing with it, confronting it instead of cutting it out/escaping away from it as a coping mechanism)

Likes anything art, has big dreams when they were a kid (also: role-playing can spark their interest in theatre/drama)

When they’re interested in the ‘concept’ of something they do research/starts to get deeper into it: 

If it’s ‘stars’ they get space-documentaries/looks at nasa sites. If it’s ‘animals’ (like ‘polar bears’) they start getting involved with or ‘saving-the-animals’  stuff.

They find out ‘facts’ about the subject and share it with their friends. They’re concerned with like, discourse/discussions around the subject (newer discovery/research etc.) 

Also the way that they ‘involve’ themselves into the subject isn’t so ‘narrow’ --- they like the thing about stars, but did you hear the things about our galaxy as well? 

They have a broader range of interests because they’re empathetic when relating/understanding/learning about the subjects

They like to feel personally connected, so they always try to find the good in things/something precious in it that appeals to them emotionally (or imaginatively)--- and use that to expand their focus.  

Mayhaps they are scared to be in a relationship/commitment sometimes and has a hard time dealing saying ‘no’ to people----it’s mostly to do with having high ideals, and not being able to cope physically with actual real intimacy between people. So they may need time to test the waters or adjust. Have some autonomy to themselves/know themselves better.

They always have this deep soulful connection to waters--  being in waters, thinking about water, having some waters near by. They’re attracted to symbolisms or representations of water, because they unconsciously associate it back to themselves. 

ANYTHING artsy -- if these people paints, they’re the type of people who just genuinely enjoy the process. The MOST patient/concentrated when it comes to art, they just feel so cathartic doing it 

They’re highly involved with spiritual practices/ideas (that doesn’t mean necessarily being religious)-- the idea that there’s ‘more’ in this world than what we see, what we get in the ‘material’ fascinates them. 

It’s like a gate-way to ‘space’ in a way? An area that’s left unexplored and just waiting to be discovered. An area in which ‘space’ can be made for them, accommodate them. Maybe it could become a ‘space’ they will eventually ‘belong/find something valuable to them there’

Wants and likes the idea of unconditional love-- mostly because, they are rather dedicated and slow-moving people. The idea that the others will wait, be patient and understanding towards them will appeals to them. They need warmth and nurturing to grow, and being in an environment where other makes space/time for them and give them patience/understanding---they grow fond and soft in it.

The idea/lesson with Scorpio/Pisces however, is that they may be a little too into luxuriating and finding these spaces. These people may be tilted too much into Pisces Moon--- making them find hardship in the world easily, find flaws easily, bury themselves in emotional hurt and self-problems because of it.

Most of the time it’s self-image or social expectations. They feel bad about themselves and are constantly aware of their own flaws.

No matter how much others try to explain to them how differently they are for others/socially (and that ‘its ok to be different’)--- how valuable, precious and rare they are socially (you can never find others like them). These people have a hard time ‘feeling’ like they’re worth something/feel grounded in those Truths.

Even though they try so hard to see things from other people’s perspective (like they trust them, it makes sense. A part of their intuition is telling them that it’s ‘truthful’)-- but that doesn’t necessarily mean they won’t feel what they feel. 

They may sometimes feel like others don’t feel the same problems as they do, because most of the time they ‘feel’ their flaws ‘consciously’. It’s a feeling where you’re constantly aware of your faults, and you emotionally feel insecure/down about it (don’t want to get judged, criticized. Fearful of it. Just wants to please/up-lift other people)

They’re prone to try being rational, try to be ‘logical’ and ‘pragmatic’ and all that. But they can’t help feeling emotionally helpless sometimes, about something even though they try to stay strong in (they compare themselves to other people, friends around them who aren’t as emotional and try to incorporate that in somewhat)  

See the thing here is that they see their emotionality as a flaw. Scorpio natives in general, may be much more in touch with their Pisces Moon sides that they know it’s overwhelming their Scorpio. It leads to the same problem, a half sense of acknowledgement and putting themselves down. 

They feel like ‘people’ would describe them as ‘living in the dream world’ more than the real world because of their ideals/wants in life. They have to be aware that they are often their own worst critic. 

Because they’re an empathetic learner-- the slightest off-hand wording from someone else (or like silence, frustrations/context) they care about, can sometimes think it’s something else (from their understanding/context) 

They pride themselves in their empathy but that is also the part they use to hurt themselves with, the imagination and idealism isn’t a fault. What you think about yourself isn’t at fault. You don’t have to cut back on yourself or try to please others around you--- you just have to get a stronger sense of independence/autonomy. 

It’s really not a big thing at all. Most of you are already thinking about so many explanations/ideas on your own about what that means, what you need to do, what it could imply. 

Stop thinking about those, what matters is that you take it as a moment to find your independence. Because you’re absorption/receptive to your environment--- being in one where you don’t have families/friends with you will truly help you.

A place where it’s just you, and a new chapter. I know it sounds dramatic/drastic, but you tend to cling onto the past, to people you know or find comfort in and your mind/fondness always go back to them.

Because of this you’ll find yourself using your Scorpio side more-- your adaptability becomes a survival skills, you use your head instead of your heart to connect to others. You watch out for yourself, because nobody else you may know/feel close to is there to do it for you.

This is you finding balance. This is you figuring out who you are independent of your family or friends or relationship with anyone else. You come back to earth naturally, when you’re in an environment that’s new and requires you to respond to it. Make new connections, do certain things.  

You don’t have to change who you are, what matters most is that you realize it’s a natural and normal, to feel natural in those positions. Sure, you still don’t like/feel intimidated by forceful/powerful people. But you have to adapt now, you can choose to not engage/be close to those people (or find some commonality in them/be friends with them) 

This is  a perfectly normal progression of development everyone goes through. When you adjust and get into this progression, you will continue with it. Until you’re ready to change, adapt, start anew and go through it again.

(I’m not worried about these people ‘changing’ often, mostly because they’re suuuuuper slow moving so they have a harder time letting go than switching sides. Just make sure to realize when you should do it, when it feels like you gotta get a move on. 

Because without that --- you’ll find yourself making ‘habits’ of behaviors for yourself in each phrase that ‘defines’ you who are until you don’t know how to ‘start’ anew again)

Last ending note on these placements: you always try to be yourself, but may find yourself feeling ‘not you’ or think you’re playing ‘roles’ to empathize with those around you. Make sure to realize that it’s not that, it’s just that you are inherently kind, and being ‘kind’ is guiding your action.

You don’t impose yourself, and you’d hate to feel like you did. But it makes you less assertive, less in control of environments/social/context around you. You lose more opportunity because of it. 

You may withdraw too much into yourself, because you feel the need to do some soul-searching/self-contemplation. But make sure you get back and find friends who could be with you during those times, one-on-one are better than social because that may tend to freak you out if it’s sudden (you don’t feel ready/prepared to ‘face’ people sometimes)

I hope you like it 💕💕 Thank u for sending it in! 💕

I love you but I don’t like you right now: The Passion Project Diaries

I remember years ago when I was nannying for a beautiful family, experiencing the joys and not-joys of their daughter coming into toddlerhood. She was such a precious dumpling as a baby, and somehow she had sprung into an agent of chaos, destruction, loss of hearing (mine), and potty-training nightmares. I had a day where I remember sitting at the kitchen table hoping for five minutes of peace (that never arrived) and feeling overwhelmed by the guilty thought of, “omg. I don’t like you.” Bothered by this, having established that I did feel unconditional love for this child, I asked one of my friends who is a mother to two young children if she ever experienced similar feelings. She laughed and threw her hands up exclaiming, “OH GAWD YES! There are days where I completely dislike my children. You don’t tell them that, obviously, but that’s a well-kept secret among mothers. We all talk about it. You’d be surprised how common that is, especially when they’re toddlers.”

PHEW. Great, I wasn’t a monster. Or if I was, I was at least in good company.

Producing and directing The Scarlet Tongue Project has brought out similar feelings for me over the course of the past three or four years. I remember the gestation period, feeling scared and excited, dreaming about what her personality was going to be, how I would be as an art mommy, imagining all the playdates with other artists and art parents in town. Then I went into labor, breathing and screaming through the pain of contractions, feeling frustration and fear of the nurses- some helpful and some harmful. I remember the vulnerability of not wanting anyone else to touch my baby, of just wanting to hold her to my chest where she would feel safe and bonded. I remember how deeply and fiercely I fell in love when she began opening her eyes and making sounds. She was the most precious thing in the world to me, and I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. The rest of the world disappeared, and it was so hard for me to focus or find equivalent joy in anything else. Then the insecurities of being a new art mommy set in. I doubted my abilities, and my exhaustion from trying to navigate this new territory had me questioning everything. Everywhere I turned there was information telling me that I was doing it all wrong; that if I made the slightest error I would damage my art baby for life, and maybe even lose her. I constantly reached out to loved ones asking for assistance, afraid to be left alone with this tiny, vulnerable creature. When you have a new project and you’re a new producer, suddenly everyone around you is an expert and wants to tell you how to do your job; particularly folks who have never been producers before. You begin to wonder if you made a mistake, and if you should give your project up for adoption to someone more competent. Other times, you pour yourself a glass of wine and tell them to eff right off because it’s your kid and they can go mind their own beeswax. I was in awe as I watched my art baby grow. She began to take on her own personality, making friends, forming opinions, and developing a stubborn side that I couldn’t budge for the life of me. I adored that about her. I was so deeply in love. But every once in a while, I would wonder if I made a mistake. She was so hungry, and the bigger she gets the hungrier she is. She developed her own voice, and while there are so many laughs and moments of deep wisdom that make me think she’s an old soul, she also loves to scream. Her favorite thing to do is scream, just to know she can. What and who she loves one day she hates the next. Sometimes she decides that what was previously her favorite food is disgusting, and will go on a hunger strike until I guess what she likes, because she won’t actually tell me. Sometimes I’ll put her in the bath and then run downstairs to grab a book quickly, and when I come back up she’s turned the water all the way up, screaming because it’s too hot and the tub is overflowing all over the floor and leaking through the kitchen ceiling below. Sometimes I think she’s getting dressed to go run errands with me, but instead she’s put on her roller skates and is three blocks down the street by herself with nothing but her lightning bolt undies on. In winter. On those days, I don’t like her. I don’t want to be an art mommy.

When my health issues crop up, physically or mentally, I don’t want to be an art mom that day. When I have no clue how to delegate because the beginning stages of this project left me with massive trust issues, and now I’ve taken on way too much for one person, I don’t want to be an art mom. When I receive yet another rejection letter from the millionth grant or residency program I’ve applied to, I want to quit. Everytime someone says, “so wait, I don’t really get what you’re doing, it’s so confusing” or “so like, is Scarlet Tongue even happening anymore?” I just want to go full-Britney, shave my head, and start smashing the street up with my umbrella.

Everytime someone says “oh, my sister is into feminism and stuff and she likes to draw. You should interview her”, I want to crumble into a pile of feral cats and scatter into oncoming traffic.

There are days when I ask myself why I took on a project that isn’t as flashy or “fun” as my other artist friends. Why am I so heavy? Why am I such a downer? Why am I so weird, but not in a way that’s cool?

There are days when I don’t know whether to punch or charge money for the next person who tells me that anger is bad, and why don’t I focus on a project that brings love and joy?

There are days when my heart breaks, because everyone likes the idea of womxn’s anger in theory, but when actually confronted by it they simply regurgitate the same toxic oppressive mentality that’s left us in this place to begin with. I’ve lost track of how many times “yes I believe in this, PLEASE LET ME HELP” has turned into “you’re a bad mommy. How dare you be angry with me.”

There are days when I feel lost, because I am holding the weight of so many people’s heaviest emotions and darkest secrets, and I feel pressured to keep smiling and do a flashy dance to make it all seem sexy, because sex seems like the only thing that sells if “womxn” is mentioned in your mission statement. Either that, or a complete exploitation of my artists’ trauma, which is a hard no.

There are days when money issues are gutting me, and I’m afraid to ask for help because I fear I’ve overtapped my resources.

There are days when it looks like for one every step forward I end up taking ten steps back.

Some days I’m not sure if I’m actually a better person since doing this work or not.

Those days, I turn my face away and mutter “I don’t fucking like you” under my breath, and secretly look up boarding schools in the middle of the night. When I’m around a small handful of friends I really trust, I’ll confess that I don’t like this project anymore and am ready for it to end.

But then, something beautiful happens. The act of saying how I feel out loud invites a feeling of surrender, and that surrender creates space for me to look at this project with fresh eyes and see her wholeness. Sure, maybe in certain moments I’m ready to tap out. But in a way, that’s good. It means I care, and I welcome emotions in this project. Sure, there are parts of this project I’m ready to wrap up, and not being able to complete that on my desired timeline makes me cranky. Not because I think they suck, but because that is the healthiest choice to keep things moving forward. I’m not going to start feeding my child solid foods because I resent their baby years; I’m going to feed them solid foods because it’s time to grow and move to the next step. Despite my hair-pulling moments, the reality is that when I really dig in and try to visualize not having this project, or never having started it, I feel panic and then a full-body resistance. For all of the frustrations, ups and downs, I believe in this work so hard, and I am completely dedicated to the path. I have visited parts of the US and the world that I’m not sure I would have ever seen otherwise. I’ve had the absolute fortune and blessing to gain both wisdom and knowledge, collaborate with, and share space with absolutely brilliant creative minds, both past and present. I’ve lost track of how many “holy shit, this is my life??” moments I’ve had, and that number only continues to grow. For every moment I’ve doubted myself, just as many people have taken time to tell me how much this project and this work means to them, and how it’s influenced their lives, whether as contributors or observers. On a personal level, the work I’ve done to heal a lot of my own trauma and anger issues has been profound, and the effects of that have had incalculable influence on my personal relationships and in my blood family. This project has shown me, through peace and through fire, how tirelessly obsessed and dedicated I am to making something happen if I really want it. Hearing “no” might bum me out for a minute, but you find solutions and move on. Being bummed out isn’t a death sentence.

Two years ago I was sitting with friends in Mexico, chatting with them about their experiences as mothers, contemplating if I wanted to have children of my own one day. One thing they said really stuck with me-- as a parent, you don’t own your children and they’re not extensions of you. They are their own people who will develop into who they need to be, and they will ultimately inform you about who they are. A parent’s job is mainly to love them, provide resources, and keep them safe.

This is a regular reminder for The Scarlet Tongue Project. I brought her into the world, gave her some form, and now she’s taken on a life of her own. Rather than being the owner or queen of this work, my job is far more service than glory. I’m trying to be better at asking her, “who are you today? What do you need to thrive?” Sometimes I have no clue what she’s trying to tell me. Sometimes we need to explore that a little bit to figure it out. Sometimes we take one or two wrong turns before getting back on track. But I trust the friends and caregivers she’s called forward to help on this journey. It’s a constant balance of appreciating growth while remaining present, and frequently reminding my ego to step out of the way. In moments of absolute frustration, I simply ask myself, “have you tried absolutely everything?” and the answer is always no. There is always more to do and more to learn. I can’t justify giving up when there is still infinite potential available.

Our relationships always flow in cycles. One day you’ll be super in sync with a friend or loved one, and the next you can’t seem to jive with their energy. Life will happen, circumstances will change, and then days, weeks, months or years later, you’ll fall back in harmony. In longterm romantic relationships, you cycle through periods of absolute infatuation, then wanting to murder each other, and sometimes being platonic roommate besties. I don’t have actual children, but I do believe there are so many different ways to live the archetype of Parent. It’s no secret that with parenthood comes doubt and overwhelm, along with joy and love. One minute you can’t get enough of your babies, and the next you’re hoping someone will take them away for a month so you can get some sleep and remember who you are outside of them.  While love remains, inspiration and interest come in cycles. Life, death and rebirth apply to the creative process as much as they do to the larger natural world. Winter in the creative process is crucial for letting things rest, assessing our previous work, and contemplating where we want to go before implementing a plan in the creative spring.

The work my team puts into this project continues to stun and humble me in gratitude. Every single person who takes a moment to tell me how this project has helped or inspired me has given me fresh life. Watching this whole thing come to life is surpassing my wildest dreams, even with the path being full of twists and turns. I don’t have to always like this project, and it’s liberating to admit that. But I love her on both an intellectual and soul level, and that’s what allows me to push through. This project is all about rawness, authenticity, and speaking your truth. It would be hypocritical if I encouraged everyone else but myself to be in that energy.

I wish you all creative spring through your moments of wanting to light it all on fire and send the ashes out on trash day <3

This- well.

So. I needed to make something for lesbian day. But I can’t art (I know what I said and I meant it) and I understand that I could improve if I worked on my art skills but- to put it simply, no.

And my writing- my writing is horrid. I mean, I can’t construct decent endings, most of my plot points don’t make sense, my OCs are messes that are generally there because I had a really good story idea... which eventually just whittled away into said character, and I’m so bad at getting the dynamic right, so most of my fanfiction reads as painfully ooc. And writing? Writing is the thing I value the most about myself. It sorta hurts to admit these things, but this is how you grow. You tear yourself apart, hug your torn up ego and try to get better. 

With that all said, I’m also anxious, mainly about the fact that I don’t want to be a ist/phobic asshole. So I tend to not stray into deeper waters, which would probably be good for me but- sigh. 

With all of that said, I present to you my Lesbian Day Fic with a bunch of my old OCs you’ve never heard of. (And it’s poly. Yes. )

This is technically going to be part of the Remus and Roman Heal fic which I’m combining with the I love my Headcannons fic.

Also, I will post a more ansty version later.

CW: Vague descriptions of trauma, basic mentions of trauma-induced flashbacks. If there’s more please tell me.

This is relatively tame, especially for this group of characters.

And it’s okay.

Iza looked bored. Eve looked like she was planning on killing Iza (which, was sorta fair, considering she was icing over the table again). And, Lauren just looked dazed. Lauren always looked dazed. Lauren had been through so much and- well. They weren’t going to judge her because she looked dazed.

“Iza.” Eve hissed slightly, her eyes flickering darkly. “I swear to Itanni that if you keep icing over the damn table I will summon a void creature and feed you to it.” 

“Was I meant to be summoned, or did you guys miss me?” Amelie joked, popping up into the room, the tendrils of darkness coiling back into her hair. 

“Sorry Ams.” Eve said. “I was threatening to feed Iza to a void creature because she keeps pulling an Elsa and freezing over the damn table.” 

“Ouch. You still only think of me as a void creature.” Amelie said, her voice, while sounding joking, was barely covering up the actual, poorly-hidden hurt.

“We think of you as OUR void creature.” Iza said, clenching her fists so the ice wouldn’t keep spilling out. 

“OUR void creature.” Eve repeated, then shrugged. “I’m all for weird nicknames that quietly suggest that we’re in a massive polyamorous relationship.”

“Well, they wouldn’t be wrong.” Amelie said, kissing the top of Iza’s head, which made her blush and ice shot across the table like spikes.

Eve was torn between laughing at her partners’ antics or losing her shit about the ice, which was quickly melting and spilling all over the floor. She chose laughing. 

It was rare, the days when Iza wasn’t fixing a layer of Sanctuary, the days when Eve wasn’t trying to help rescue one child or another, the days when Amelie didn’t spend half the day helping Itanni send out missions because of something to do with a need for diversity (which was the longest running joke in the group because Amelie was there to be the braincell of all of the tiny operations Itanni had forgotten about) and the other half battling the void creature, which was her own nature, but she would just curl up alone in a lonely fold of the universe and try to silence the unrelenting urges to consume and destroy. And then, the days when Lauren wasn’t trying to pick up the pieces of a broken reality and her own mind, which- they had decided to not talk about yet- 

The point was, being close together was hard. 

So there they were, in the Sanctuary commons, all of which waiting for some news (apart from Lauren, she was brought here because she was getting that glassy look in her eye and when that happened it was only a matter of time before the words they conditioned, or, more, burnt into her brain) and then they were just being together. There was a massive sense of satisfaction.

And then they were just sitting and talking, and Amelie was getting surprise kisses at Iza, who would try to throw tiny ice shards at her, which she would disintergrate before they could even get close. 

There were not fires, no drama, there weren’t bad guys to fight.

It was lovely.

And the Eve noticed that Lauren hadn’t said anything in a while. Not a good thing. 

So she approached and reached for her shoulder. 

Lauren was spaced out completely, eyes focused on a spot in the distance, and it would look like she was half asleep if her body wasn’t so tense that it looked like she might explode if even a tiny bit more pressure was put on her. 

And the fact that there were flames leaking from her hands. 

Flashback.

Shit. 

“Iza?” Eve called gently. “Iza, can you come over here?”

Eve was good with the kids. The new ones. Lauren was different. Everything was different.

“Yeah?” Iza called, looking concerned, then her concern rose as she saw Lauren. 

Everything was- they didn’t go down that path.

Iza knew how to do this. Iza had been put with Lauren when she had been dumped at the children’s home with temporary amnesia and a lot of fire.

Then Amelie was up and watching them and she was wincing slightly from the tension in the atmosphere. Eve felt it too.

Iza’s hands filled with ice. And then she held Lauren’s hand, careful to avoid her wrists and waited for the reaction.

At first Lauren flinched, her body tensing further. Then she was shaking, and gasping and whispering their names and that this was a flashback and she had survived. She was no longer there.

Iza made the ice a bit colder, enough for Lauren to blink and look around. Enough to start to ground her.

“What are five things in the room that look like they should be chip shapes?” Amelie blurted, trying to remember what to do. And whatever they said for these few moments, they needed to be careful.

“The weird tattoo on Iza’s arm that looks like a butterfly-lion hybrid.” Lauren mumbled, gaze unfocused but still there.

“The little pyramid thing that yo- WE made together.”

“The d-lamp, which we all know is off brand Amelie.” She said, managing to muster a sense of bravado

“The shards of ice on the floor.” Lauren said, leaning into her chair. 

And then Amelie was quietly asking “Hey can I touch you?” and Lauren was nodding.

And then bits of the void were wrapping around Lauren and holding her tight. 

“We love you.” Iza said, her ice wrapping around her hands like an instinctive reaction to the pain in the room.

“I love you too. I’m just-” And then she cut herself off and Eve let her form show and joined in on the hug, kissing Lauren lightly on the ear and pulling them tight. Iza smiled at her partners, bodies entangled, being ever so gentle because the world outside was ever so rough and it was perfect.

And Iza went down there and was hugging her girlfriends, letting it all work itself out. And it was going to continue being horrible but it could be horrible to the four of them. 

Lauren looked sorta sleepy in Amelie’s arms, and Eve also looked like she was burnt out. But Lauren was almost actually sleeping, and Iza, who was known for being the ‘meanness’ one out of the 4, thought it was unfairly adorable.

And they were holding each other and this was love. 

This was love.

How should we talk about suicide?

It has been three years since I got the call about my brother; my 49-year-old, funny, sentimental, handsome, troubled younger brother.

It is a call no one can prepare for and one that is accompanied by a tsunami of confusion, anger, disbelief and unimaginable despair.

My brother's suicide was a tragedy on many levels and, like most people who have endured this kind of loss, I was overwhelmed by contradictory emotions when I was told he was gone. How could he do this to our parents, to his kids, to our family, to me? Then, mixed up with my fury, came the guilt. Why didn't I answer the phone when he rang that day? Why didn't I tell him I loved him?

The writer's brother as a child [Photo courtesy of Leanne Pooley]

My brother grew up in a loving middle-class family with summers at the lake and friends all around. He was a talented athlete and a professional ice hockey player. He had lived in Canada and Europe, run a successful golf business, had a beautiful wife and two wonderful children.

Despite all this, he struggled with demons none of us who loved him could understand. He slipped into drug and alcohol abuse, lost his family and landed in a toxic relationship he knew was destructive.

Ultimately, ending the life he found unbearable became a more powerful option than learning how to fight for the life he deserved.

When my brother died I was thrown into a cycle familiar to many people who have lost someone in this way. I was tortured by ruminative thoughts; With myself that went around and around in my head. If only I could go back, change that one thing, unsay those words, make it different. If only I could reverse time. But I can't. Time only goes forward and no matter how many circular scenarios plague my imagination, I can't change what happened; I can't reverse time and that is hard to accept.

'We can't ask people to see the world through our eyes'

One of the strangest ironies of the situation I found myself in three years ago was the fact that when my brother died I was making a documentary about suicide. As a filmmaker I had often worked on projects that were close to my heart but never before had my life and my art so tangibly collided. Oddly, despite a brief moment when I considered walking away from the project, this bizarre twist of fate came to be a blessing. While working on the film I was exposed to people who knew what I was going through and could help me survive the emotional rollercoaster I was riding.

From them, I learned that while my initial reaction to my brother's death was to judge him as selfish, it is likely that in his mind the opposite was true. It is possible that for a brief, misguided moment, he believed his fatal decision would release our family from the strain of supporting him - that he was a burden and that, by exiting from our lives, he would be doing us a favor.

[Photo courtesy of Leanne Pooley] (Restricted Use)

He was wrong of course, but when people are as distressed as my brother was they do not see the world the way we do, and this too is a lesson. We cannot apply the logic of our lives to the chaos in theirs. My brother was in pain; His suffering was impossible for me to understand because I haven't experienced suffering like it. His pain was his own and asking him to think or feel the way I did was a mistake because my life experience had little in common with his. So, when I tried to reassure him that everything would be fine if he “just” did X or “just” said Y, I wasn't acknowledging his reality - things weren't fine and my saying they would be didn't change that for him. We can't ask people to see the world through our eyes, we can only try to help them see past the darkness blocking their view.

'I couldn't fix my brother'

I don't want to imply that my brother bore no responsibility for the circumstances he found himself in. He made numerous bad choices, wasted many opportunities and often didn't take advantage of the help that was offered to him. Both my parents exhausted themselves emotionally and financially trying to "sort him out". There were endless discussions about tough love, enabling, interventions and what he “really” needed. None of us had an answer and I now feel that too many of these conversations were had without him in the room.

Added to this is the compassion fatigue I and others faced when dealing with my brother and his “issues”. He tended to reach out when he was in crisis and there were many late-night, early morning or simply ill-timed phone calls that went on for hours. Drunken, stoned, sometimes desperate calls I had to steel myself for; calls that exasperated and exhausted me - calls I came to avoid, including the one I didn't answer the day he died.

Would answering my phone have helped? I will never know for sure and there-in lies one of the internal circular dialogues I still navigate. But what I now understand is I couldn't have saved him, because we can't save people - we can only be there to help them save themselves. This might sound trite, but it is a truism that is difficult for someone like me. I like to fix things and I couldn't fix my brother.

Unlike many people who take their own lives, my brother had never attempted suicide before. He left no note to help us understand his state of mind nor did he leave me a message that day. He had been struggling with addiction issues and depression for a significant period of time and while he had been in and out of rehab in the months leading up to his death, I thought he was doing ok. I did know, however, that his connection to hope was tenuous and, in a pattern I had become accustomed to, his slide into despair was rapid; in this case too rapid for me to respond.

The writer's brother [Photo courtesy of Leanne Pooley]

The debate about what should and shouldn't be said about suicide goes on. There is reticence when talking about it as we fear triggering the vulnerable. Although I accept there is risk in everything we do, I would argue the silence that shrouds this topic makes it more difficult for those of us left behind. And there are so very many of us left behind. It seems that any time I mention my brother's death, the person I am talking to has a story of their own. The parent they lost, the sibling, the child, the friend, the lover. It is ubiquitous and the often-whispered tones that relate melancholy stories illustrate to me the shame that taints the subject of suicide and those of us touched by it. We are admitting failure; my love wasn't enough to keep my brother alive.

I felt this failing most keenly when I finished my documentary. I had buried my grief beneath its making, convincing myself that there was a reason I was doing this thing at this time, and there was. But when it was done and my brother's name appeared in honorarium as the final credits rolled - I fell apart. I had made a film that addressed the issues that had, in part, led to my brother's death, it was meant to mean something - but he was still dead.

'I will always wonder'

For my parents, the weight of losing my brother was to prove overwhelming. My 78-year-old father's health collapsed almost immediately and he died six weeks later, I believe, from a broken heart. My mother, who had been a young 75, not long retired and physically formidable, aged exponentially and has subsequently struggled to recover. The only glimmer of light in what was a dark time was the way this long-divorced couple came together in their grief.

I wish I could say that in the three years since my brother's passing I have had an epiphany of some kind or that I have deep effectual insights to share with others who inhabit a similar space; but I haven't and I don't. There are still days when I'm consumed by sadness and I find it difficult to explain the hollowness I feel inside to those close to me. I am fundamentally an optimistic person, but at times it is hard to maintain that outlook and we do the truth a disservice by pretending it is not. Helping people deal with mental illness is crucial if we want to stem the rising numbers of those choosing to take their own lives. We also need to ensure when the outcome is not what we would have wanted that the grief-stricken find the understanding and support they need, too. Once suicide has permeated our psyche it is with us forever. I have found a way to live with the hole in my heart but the hole will always be there. I will never stop loving my brother and I will always wonder what he rang to say that terrible day.

The one thing I feel certain about is that we are failing to find a way to discuss suicide in a manner that protects those at risk while freeing those impacted. I am not sure what the answer to this problem is but we need to keep looking for it or we condemn millions of families, lovers and friends to lonely bewilderment and endless anguish. For now, all I can do is remind myself that my brother's life wasn't just about his ending and there are wonderful memories to be cherished alongside the ones I need to let go.

If you or someone you know is at risk of suicide, these organizations may be able to help.

. #world Read full article: https://expatimes.com/?p=12595&feed_id=11648

Golden King

Title: Golden King Pairing: Lee Taemin/Reader Genre: King!AU Summary: Taemin was a king that had buried his memories deep in his heart, but once they come back in his life he would return to that love that made him feel like the luckiest man alive. However, it isn’t so easy to hide secrets when you are the king of a country.

Chapter I//Chapter II//Chapter III//Chapter IV: “Am I in time?”

Whenever he returned to the castle after a long journey around the country, he felt a little bit empty. Beautiful sceneries and homemade meals were replaced by the sound of nothingness in dinners that the chef made and blank stares between Taemin and his wife. It was one of the things that Taemin hated the most, how time went by so fast and before he could guess it, she was out of the picture and he was there, living the life of a king that lived in seas of lies that he just wanted to ease out. It seemed like his father had noticed that something was off because he was sitting at the table with him and his mother was looking at him from time to time, wanting to start some kind of conversation but he couldn’t get the words out. Long ago he had lost the ability to talk to them with trust and it hurt him to say those words, but they had pushed him to be this perfect king that didn’t speak up for himself and that’s what they’ll get, a rock that won’t say a word, a reminder of what could’ve been if only…

If only things were different.

Taemin starts questioning those words as he sees the frown over his father’s face and he calls one of the butlers over and whispers something in his ear, but Taemin already knows what it is. The king always wanted people to work for him –or the previous king, for the matter- and Taemin should be that way, a person that couldn’t do things for himself, but he had surprised the entire castle by helping other people out. Once he asked Kibum how to sew because he was interested in the art of taking pieces of cloth and putting them together to create the well looking suits that he had to wear for those big meetings he attended; other times he would be sitting with Jinki in the farm and even asking about certain animals and how they were supposed to be treating, getting his body full of mud and laughing through it all. The person that arrived was one that he had gotten to know a lot since he had broken up with her and his usual black clothing was replaced by that ridiculous uniform that had Taemin hiding his laughter behind a spoonful of his food.

Kim Jonghyun, the palace’s buffoon.

The man hid his sudden need to eat the food that was on the table with a fake smile and he got to work, his plump lips spilling jokes that sometimes were a little bit too harsh for the elegant and dense people that were on said table. Jonghyun’s jokes were always intelligent, naively making people believe that he wasn’t making fun of them when he really was –sneakily so, but he was doing it. His hands moved with every gesture and Taemin’s mother was trying to hide her embarrassment with her food, eating as elegantly as possible as Jonghyun slumps his shoulders after a joke that he said wasn’t laughed at…except for one person. The prince was holding his laughter by biting his bottom lip until he couldn’t hide it anymore and his hand collided against the table as he threw his head back in rich laughter, hearing a few of the butlers and servants trying to muffle their laughter as well, perhaps in fear of getting scolded by the previous king and queen. Iseul fixed the edge of her dress and cleared her throat as Taemin calmed down. Jonghyun opened his mouth to say something else, already thinking of something to say until-

“Taemin, stop it.” The previous king says sternly and Taemin raises one of his eyebrows, looking at the male that seemed to get happier when he scolded his son. Taemin was tired of the strings that wrapped around him like never ending constrictions for him to reach his dreams. He could never do this or that and it was something that made him frown most of the time, he was never disrespectful to anyone…but whatever he did was always wrong in the eyes of his parents, who were too elegant and far up their own little fantasy to understand that the king was human, Lee Taemin had always be imperfect and they have to get it through their thick skulls. “I can’t believe you rule a country like that.” The comment makes Taemin chuckle sarcastically as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“The land is better than how it was when you were ruling it.” Taemin’s words get through his father’s brain and he was about to spill something towards him, something that could have hurt him long ago but the king only shushed him. “I am tired of hearing you complain about everything I do…I can promise something to you, father, and it is that this land will be happier in my hands than it ever was in yours.” He meant those words because he had given everything he had for this land, his youth and desires just to see it grow like a flower that had been destroyed by his father’s power, but now it seemed a little bit closer, it was’ a dream anymore. A few years ago, Taemin would’ve hated being a king…but now he see what he can do and fixing a bit of the world helped him feel better with himself and his broken heart. “I am making history.”

His father laughs quite loudly but it falls into deaf ears as he speaks. “You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me, ungrateful little piece of shit.” He says as he points at his son with his chopsticks before placing a bit of his food inside his mouth, thinking of what else he could say. “…You always think that we are against you because we didn’t let you live like a commoner, but look at every single prince that has committed mistakes-” Taemin can recall some princes that were his friends at least once in his life, but now he was too worried in his own thoughts to reunite with them anymore. “Prince Luhan, for example, what a fucking disgrace he is…he is with one of his servants and his land laughs at him.” The chopsticks he was eating with were placed down before he looked over at his son. “You would have been just like him, a promise we made when you were just a kid that never got fulfilled.”

“I can’t believe you talk about your friend’s son that way.” Taemin says lowly as he stands up from the bed, leaving the cloth he had over his legs on top of his chair before bowing towards the chefs. He shouldn’t have had dinner with his family, he should’ve stayed in the balcony as always, looking at the city that she wasn’t in anymore…A part of himself was wondering if he should just leave, a little vacation to keep himself in place, he had already finished with his plans for a few weeks before going back to reunions, meetings and whatnot, besides, he’d be somewhere in the and- “I will be at my room.  I hope no one needs me.”

That uninvited guest that always arrive leaves the door open after she enters the room and he sadly feels like she’s unwelcomed, even when she wore such beautiful dresses every day and she tried to keep up with him, her fake words and even faker touches making him feel like a shell of what he was. Taemin was trying to look out the window that wasn’t there anymore, so he just kept his gaze fixated on the pictures that now decorated said space, some from his wedding, others with his parents and some of when he was a kid, giggling and smiling like he never did. His hands grip the sheets that covered his legs and he wondered, he asked himself if he made the right decision…or if life made a right decision for him. It killed him that people were brain washed enough to think that anything that someone said was correct; even Taemin as a king made mistakes, sometimes he stuttered or he forgot someone’s names, but he never tried to change the land’s point of view. Some people liked him, others preferred the asshole that was his father, but he was happy with knowing that most people enjoyed his stay.

A pair of hands falls over his covered shoulders and he sees Iseul sitting beside him, her hands occasionally being looked at by her eyes because she had to keep her manicure in check. Perhaps, Iseul would be a great woman for another type of man, one that didn’t like conversation as much or one that loved her, but neither of them loved each other and he couldn’t be with someone that was so immersed in all the particularly stereotypical parts of being in a kingdom. Iseul clears her throat and then she looks up at him, long eyelashes fluttering against her soft skin that didn’t have a line, a wrinkle, not even dark circles because Iseul had never worked as hard as the woman he loved did, she had never gone through pain…she only cared about facilities.

“Your parents are right.” When aren’t they? Taemin thinks sarcastically because she’ll always be by their sides, knowing that they were the ones that prepared their marriage and the party that came after that. She felt like a princess, more like a queen now and someone like her wouldn’t give up a spot like the one she had dreamt about since she was a kid. “You don’t know how egoistic you’re being right now. Like that prince that they talked about –who would want to be with a commoner and lose a land that depends on you?” Sadly, he did what he did because he didn’t want to disappoint the community he had to lead, but now he saw red…red because he felt passion for two things in life and it was his job as a king and her, her body and personality, every curve and line in her body that made her…the woman he had fallen in love with. He loved, too much for Taemin’s liking, and when one loves something so much…you can’t just let go.

Taemin chuckles lightly and that makes her frown the slightest, perhaps because she was too scared of getting wrinkles over her pretty face. “Listen, Iseul, I know I am everyone’s way of making things work. I am the king, your husband and most importantly, I am the stupidest man you’ll ever meet in your life.” The king adds as he stands up from the bed, opening one of the doors that lead to a wardrobe only to get his luggage out before searching through things, making Iseul shake her head quickly. “But let’s stop pretending that we care about each other…at least in front of people who know the truth.” Taemin points out with a sharp glare, one that could cut if he wanted. “If it wasn’t me, then it would have been any other of the kings that you flirt with…princes even.  Now you’re one to talk but five or so years ago you were dating prince Luhan and it doesn’t exactly mean it’s wrong, it’s just the reality.” His hands place a few shirts, trousers, suits that were all fabricated by Kibum and were completely expensive, but he knew that he liked the style that was given to him. “And my reality right now is that I need to have some time off and I will fulfill my duties as a king from somewhere in the land just to take a breather.”

“You can’t-!” Iseul tells him rather too loudly and then she laughs, more like giggles in a girly manner to get her fake persona back. “Taemin, I can admit that I haven’t been the most truthful in this relationship…but I know that you shouldn’t run away from me.” The queen adds with a small smile and then her hands go towards his waist, trying to hug him from behind. “It has taken you so long to forget about that damned fruit girl…you didn’t find someone else, did you?” The question makes Taemin tightens his fist and he only shakes his head before taking her hands in his to pull her away lightly. “Taemin-”

“Excuse me.” Taemin mumbles to her before opening his mouth to call someone over. “Choi Minho!” The scream is enough to make loud footsteps be heard around the hall before someone went to his room easily, much more after Iseul had left the door open. The butler was wearing his suit as usual and he had cut his hair for the sake of stopping his mother from complaining about his long hair. His best friend immediately looks at the way Taemin’s eyes radiated a fire and he gave Minho a small, thankful smile. “Get your things done, we’ll be travelling.” The king adds and normally, a butler had to listen to everything a king had to say, much more when all your family served them, but Minho was Taemin’s friend and he knew that sometimes he had the worst ideas ever. Like the stars were at the moon’s mercy, Minho did whatever Taemin thought, but sometimes the moon had the worst ideas to get to see the sun.

“Travelling...sure, but why-?” His words are cut off once Taemin looks at him, tilting his head to the side slightly as a way of telling him to not question his actions. The story seems to fit together like a puzzle, much more after the king spent an entire hour talking about how he found found her somewhere in the land and Minho crosses his arms over his shoulder. “King, we surely shouldn’t be getting out of the castle, you should rest.”

“I want to rest somewhere else, then.”

When will Taemin let Minho win an argument?

The answer is never, much less when Minho is carrying his luggage over his shoulder –and he thanks the heavens that Taemin wasn’t so much of a picky king and carried his- whilst he looked around town and taking in the different atmosphere. Minho had seen a fair expanse of the land and he could say that there was variety, but said place was more of a greenish city, with taller trees and bigger environments full of empty spaces and smaller houses. The king seemed to be looking for something, although he enjoyed his surroundings as well, but his eyes –that were properly covered so no one would notice was there- looked for a certain person, a certain woman that Minho knew all too well.  Silently so, he expected the king to forget about her the moment he got married, the butler was tired of seeing his best friend being completely immersed in the thought of a love that couldn’t happen, but life was always that way and Minho couldn’t change whatever was inside Taemin’s mind. His footsteps get heavier and he sees the king walking diligently towards the house he had stayed at with Kibum, which not only he had taken the time during the the trip there to rent it for a few weeks, but he also made sure that everything was under Minho’s name…

At least he’s not the one paying it.

“So…” Minho trots over to where Taemin was, looking through his pockets for the keys of the house as he nods his head for the butler to continue. “All these years I thought that you had finally settled your head, but it seemed like you found her and I know as a fact that I won’t stop you.” He tells him and a smirk appears over Taemin’s features as he opens the door rapidly, his luggage on the floor as he places the keys inside the lock before opening it with a little bit of difficulty. “As far as I know, she must have ran away from you-” The moment Taemin turns around to say something back to Minho –perhaps comment a bit on how happy she seemed once she saw him-, a frown appears over his features when he sees that typically charming man that could have passed as a prince if only he wasn’t so humble looking. Kyungsoo was there –or more like the king swears that was his name- and not only was he talking to Jongin, but he seemed to be excited about whatever the taller man was saying. Whether it showed or not, Taemin knew it was that way…there was something about people who didn’t show their feelings through their expressions and the black haired male could read them perfectly well. “…And really, I thought you would have forgotten by now-”

“Sh!” Taemin says as he places his hand over Minho’s mouth and makes the butler turn around, partially covering his body with the butler’s broader shoulders as he speaks behind him. “That short man that is with Jongin is presenting a contract to them so they can have a fruit shop here, which is mainly the reason why she wanted to come here and all…” The king trails his voice but there is this bitter feeling inside his tongue. Usually, he would be the calm type but he won’t believe that Kyungsoo guy, not today or tomorrow, not even in twenty years from them. “But somehow I don’t believe him, so if you could do me the favor to investigate his family name, he goes by the name of Do Kyungsoo.”

“I don’t have to investigate that much.” Minho shrugs his shoulders after smacking the king’s hand away and he looks over at Jongin, who was walking casually with the shorter male as they spoke. “The Do family, owners of a variety of businesses around the country, they are six brothers, all born in a humble environment because his father comes from a poor family and he wanted to keep a tradition.” The butler crosses his arms over his chest as he sees the two males continuing with their walk until they were unseen by them. “He’s the second youngest, I believe, and I think he is one of the few that isn’t far up their asses with all the money they have, partially because he wasn’t that good of a student-”

“How do you even know that?” Taemin asks in a rushed whisper and the butler chuckles, patting his shoulder before picking up his luggage from the floor.

“One of my cousins dated his oldest brother; they broke up because he was a typical rich kid, just like the members of the kingdom that go to the castle.” The older male opens the door slightly with a movement of his hip before placing his luggage inside, only closing the door when he saw that the king had entered. “I think Kyungsoo was fifteen at the time, sent her a letter saying that he was sorry for his brother’s wrongdoings and still, his dad doesn’t trust him enough to have a business.”

Taemin scoffs loudly as he takes a seat on the couch, stretching his muscles after sitting down for so long. “You paint him as if he was a true gentleman,��� The king adds and Minho nods his head, as if it was real…he was trying to state just that. “I think I am walking on shattered glass here.  He sees a single woman with the need of a place where she can develop a business and he looks like he hasn’t broken a rule once in his life, the king is technically not connected to her at all-”

“And it wouldn’t be so wrong of her to see someone else.” Those words make Taemin feel like he fell down from cloud nine and once he landed on earth, he was welcomed by nothingness, a full desert that match his –then- blonde hair that he had when he met her. It’s not often that Taemin stops dreaming, much less after he had started falling in love with her. “She would be going on a date, kissing him at most…but you got married, that’s all the needs to know to continue with her life.”

“But I am not truly married.”

“To the eyes of the world, you are.” Minho adds and he sits down beside Taemin, his eyes trembling a bit as he tries to recompose what he was saying because he surely doesn’t want the king to feel bad, but also he doesn’t want him doing something out of jealousy that could bring the entire land to know about his little love affair. “She had chosen to stay behind...because you couldn’t have a normal life if she didn’t go away, she could have easily told everyone about your relationship with her, but she backed out because you had to continue with your life…” A soft sigh leaves his lips and then he pats Taemin’s thigh. “Would it be so wrong to let her go?”

“It is not letting go because I still have time.” His legs move quickly and he’s up on his feet in no time, he’s pacing and turning and Minho almost feels like he needs a pill for dizziness because Taemin surely moved fast, all because of his long legs. “I have time to get her to love me again, even if it is just a tiny bit-”

A paradox soon follows Minho’s lips. “Just so you let her fleet away like you did three and so years ago, the story is no different, you’re the same Taemin and she’s-”

“And she belongs with me.” Taemin adds as if he was a kid and the butler almost thought it was funny how he puffed out his cheeks. “I just…want a little bit more of time, that’s all.”

But time wasn’t something that he had left.

“I can’t believe it!”

Her hands were trapped against her body as Jongin’s long limbs wrapped around her shoulders and brought her closer to him. The scent of woodened cologne that represented her best friend reached her nostrils and from the corner of her eyes, she could see a shorter male with black hair that was looking at them with an awkward smile over his features. She had studied him, Do Kyungsoo and it surprised her that he was such a big person into business when he was simply…shy, cold hearted, hard to reach. It wasn’t necessarily bad, indeed, she thought it was something that she had learnt to be as well throughout time, but it surprised her that he had taken the time to listen to Jongin with the dreams that she wanted to reach –because she wasn’t a good talker at all-. Kyungsoo has his hands inside his pockets and she tries to return the hug to Jongin, but he had squished her too hard against his broad chest.

Absolutely, she loved that after only twelve days she had gotten a possible contract, but it still haunted her that they got that opportunity out of the blue. Used to working for everything, her mind was hazy and once Jongin pulled away, the son of a businessman seemed to be happy about the exchange and he pointed between the two with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you two…well…you know, a thing?” Kyungsoo asked and even though the low vibrato of his voice was uncertain, she knew that it was out of embarrassment because of the rosiness of his cheeks. Out of all the years she had been friends with Jongin, she had always been asked if the two were something and that something was never going to surface between the two. Even before his death, her father thought that the two were together and made sure to have the pair of best friends under his watch in case anything happened; the old memory brings back a bitter feeling to her tongue and she shakes her head at the same time that Jongin chuckles.

Jongin scoffs. “No, she has been stuck with the same man for almost four years.” That makes her back straighten and the hand that was behind her back suddenly went to Jongin’s ribs to pinch the skin there, which caused him to wince silently.

“So…are you in a relationship?” Fuck this, she thinks when the young man asks and she tilts her head to the side, giving a tight lipped smile that made Kyungsoo believe that she was probably embarrassed about it when it really hurt inside. At least, he was off to the capital of the land and won’t be back, hopefully he would have forgotten her once she was back to her home, but as of now…she knows that she won’t ever forget him.

“No.” The answer is short, the sound of her voice as sweet as the tea Kyungsoo had in his hands –served exclusively by her- and as sharp as the edge of the old couch Jongin slept on. “…Ah…no?” This time is more like a question and she looks over at Jongin for help but something seemed to click inside Kyungsoo’s head and she blames it on the fact that he’s so intelligent, clever even and those brown orbs of his could read her better than anyone else in the land. Both Jongin and she were surprised once he-

“I bet it is the guy you were riding a horse with the moment I met you.” Well, now she doesn’t know what to say and she moves her hands slightly, causing a bit of the hot tea to drop over her leg and making her wince, but she covers all her pain with a smile because she feared, not for her own reputation but for Taemin’s. No one could know she loved the golden king, no one should even be aware of what they had- “Ah, be careful!” Kyungsoo said and he immediately rushed towards her, picking up one of the napkins over the table before dabbing it against her clothed leg, his eyes completely focused on the spot that the tea had left. “I should not have asked, sorry-” Jongin looks over at her with pity in her eyes as the man kneeled in front of her and she placed her hand over Kyungsoo’s, making him stop completely as he looked up at her with big eyes and his plump lips tightened in a small line. “I-I-”

“Let’s just say…” She trails her voice as she stops holding Kyungsoo’s hand and the man stands up slowly as he crosses his arms over his chest, playing with the sleeves of his sweater lightly. “We love each other deeply but we can’t be together.” The way his head moved up and down slowly made her feel like she was listened to but she couldn’t say anymore, she didn’t want to speak about the subject anymore- “Don’t be…sorry for asking me anything,” She shrugs her shoulders as if it was nothing, but the weights over them were heavy mentally. “After all, we’re going to be business partners and we need to know each other.”

“As a resume,” Jongin says as he makes Kyungsoo turn towards him and the taller man smiles sweetly. “Yes, it’s the guy you saw her with…but he won’t be an issue.” The black haired male laughs and then he shakes his head, the breaths leaving his lips making her tilt her head to the side. “What is so funny?”

“You are talking as if he was a damned criminal.” Kyungsoo says and for a moment, she looks over at Jongin as a way of finding an answer, which makes the businessman’s smile falter a little bit. “Ah, uh, it is not a criminal…right, that could be an issue- Oh my god, is it a hitman?” Three seconds before asking- “What does he do?”

“Politician.” The two answered at the first time and then she cleared her throat, standing up from her place on the couch. “He…is…yeah, a politician…something like that.” She swats her hand playfully before biting her bottom lip. “Ah, Jongin, I’ll go change my pants because…yeah…that.” Words didn’t seem to come out of her mouth and as she walked towards the room that she had in said house, she rushed through the hall and leaned against the door once she was inside.

Hopefully, he believed what she had told him…but it wasn’t completely a lie. Politicians were people of power that worked alongside with the kingdom, but Taemin was much more than that and it gave her a headache whenever she thought of Kyungsoo ever noticing that she had dated the golden king, that king that was always on newspapers and the one that was there just a few weeks ago-

Thud, thud, thud. Her train of thought is interrupted when she hears the sound of a rock hitting her window a few times and she rushed towards it, opening the window to get ready to scream at the neighbors’ kids that were surely trying to play a prank on her until she saw those black hairs hidden by a cap and a smile that was uncovered, somehow. Taemin waved slightly, almost cutely and she felt her heart at her throat for two reasons, the fact that he was there once again and also the slight detail that Kyungsoo was in the living room with Jongin. A small whine leaves her lips, almost inaudible as Taemin spoke.

“Am I still in time?”

Perhaps, the timing wasn’t the most perfect one but when she put all the pieces together, noticing how he was there because he wanted to and not because he had to, her heart raced a million times faster and she only had one question inside her head…

How could she hide this from her business partner before she lost everything once again?

omg can we get a harry potter au? cz i feel like Wonpil would make the cutest hufflepuff ever who has an obsession with cute plants, and ofc what's the best way to ask him out except gifting an adorable smol cactus when you're an emotionally constipated slytherin named sungjin!

dude. anon-sshi. jsyk i’ve never written hp!AU before bc i thought it’d be too complicated to tackle aka i h8 it but sungpil. wow. sungpil feeds me well so here ya go. come off anon and reblog lmao or talk to me more about sungpil/wanna one/JJP/nct/monsta x i make the rules lel.

two weeks into triwizard tournament, wonpil is losing the joy he had for the strange plant someone gave to him as a gift; instead of the supposedly blooming red petals he’d been anticipating since he first got the mysteriously delivered plant about a month ago, the strange plant’s tiny stems had turned brown and woody and the petals shrunk dramatically.

“oh, hyung, i’m so sorry.” dowoon says, touching the white ceramic pot. they’re having their lunch by the great lake after raiding the kitchen with wonpil’s half-hearted yet still irresistible charm that house elves love. brian will join them in about half an hour after his potions class.

ah. what a waste of such nice weather! wonpil can’t seem to enjoy the sun even though he’s got the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows and his tie loosened and his toes wriggling free out in the open.

“i know,” wonpil pouts. he chews on the turkey sausage and wonders what went wrong. he had religiously watered it and changed the fertilizer every week.

“cheer up, we’re about to experience our first yule ball ever,” dowoon holds up a piece of kimchi, offering it to wonpil who glomps it without a second thought. dowoon makes a delightful sound. “are you going to have the last kimbap?”

“no, go ahead.” wonpil sniffs, taking a swig of water and choking a little when loud giggles are echoing through the usually quiet surrounding.

“wow, it’s our rep park sungjin,” dowoon hums after taking a glance at the source of the commotion. wonpil looks up and sees the sixth year slytherin who got chosen as hogwarts representative for the triwizard tournament. the nice weather is really captivating even the currently hottest boy of their school; park sungjin is one of the very gifted muggle-born slytherins, always staying on top of his class and received the highest O.W.L.’s scores for transfiguration, defence against the dark arts, and potions last year. rumor has it, he only put his name in the goblet of fire because he lost a bet to his comrade park jaehyung, another sixth year muggle-born slytherin, who’s walking beside him right now.

“wonpil-hyung, do you know him or something? because he’s heading our way.” dowoon whisper-talks, and then clearing his throat and wiping his mouth with a napkin.

wonpil blinks. a group of ravenclaw girls who are seated not far from them are looking their way, or at a particular park sungjin, whose black hair is swept away by the wind. and with how his robe complimented his broad shoulders and the fact that green and silver look good on him, he looks like the heartthrob from witch weekly some underclassmen girls left behind in the hufflepuff common room.

wonpil answers dowoon’s question—no, i don’t know him—but he gets cut off by park sungjin’s simple yet weirdly heart-fluttering,

“hi.”

“um.” wonpil puts down his fork. “hi?”

upon thisclose, it’s clear that park sungjin is not that tall, especially compared to park jaehyung, who’s asking dowoon like he’s bored already,

“what are you having, kid?”

dowoon frowns. cutely. that was really unexpected anyway. “turkey sausage.”

park jaehyung shakes his head. “nah, thanks.”

“i have apple pie.” dowoon tilts his head, pointing to the said food and that gets park jaehyung to invite himself sitting on the edge of the picnic blanket.

“that’s more like it.”

wonpil smiles when park jaehyung nods at him.

“may i?”

wonpil scoots over to give space for park sungjin to sit next to him. he smells like citrus and he radiates warmth as their shoulders brush against each other.

park jaehyung has started eating dowoon’s apple pie in silent, staring, determinedly, to the great lake. dowoon raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes at wonpil, and wonpil doesn’t get to answer because park sungjin is asking him a question.

“did you at least like it?”

“what?”

park sungjin nods towards the dead strange plant and wonpil almost squeaks at the realization that it was the hottest boy in school who gave him the cute but still dead strange plant!

dowoon has his mouth hanging open and park jaehyung is actually grinning. to the great lake.

oh my god!

wonpil knows he’s flushing red and it’s too late to try to hide it. he clasps his hands and scrunches his nose, guilt and surprise are written on his face. he goes to sit on his knees and park sungjin laughs at that.

“it’s okay, should have given you flowers to grow.” he’s got a big nose and pretty eyes, wonpil notices. “anyway, i’m park sungjin. sixth year student from slytherin. that’s park jaehyung, same grade and house.”

park sung—no, sungjin, holds out his hand for a handshake a tad bit too late because a) wonpil, just like the whole school, already knew who he is, and b) he exposed himself oh so nonchalantly like wonpil wasn’t over the moon the first few days after he found out someone had thought fondly of him! the strange plant came with a ribbon and muggle manufactured chocolate! wonpil loves chocolate and anything that rhymes with plant, strange or not!

“kim wonpil, fifth year. hufflepuff,” wonpil takes sungjin’s hand and bites his bottom lip or else he’s going to swoon. “that’s yoon dowoon, fourth year from gryffindor.”

sungjin smiles to dowoon and dowoon has his ugly, fake laugh that makes jaehyung laughs wholeheartedly.

“you both are cute,” sungjin mumbles, nods to the ravenclaw girls who wave at him, and asks the blue, blue sky, “have you got a date for yule ball?”

359.

5000 Question Survey Pt. 5

401. Some say that high school is the best time of your life. Was that true for you? nah, it was definitely college for me. 402. What do you find yourself encouraging others to try? new foods, traveling to places i’ve been, beauty products etc. 403. Which is better: Mel Brooks or Woody Allen? eh, i don’t know either of them enough to choose. 404. When was the last time you were up all night? yesterday. 405. __ is life. The rest is just details. Fill in the blank. such.

406. Are people too complex and different to be categorized? yes definitely. everyone has a story. 407. Is it good to have pride in your own race or does that separate people from each other because it makes them think of everyone else as 'outsiders'? it’s great to have pride in your own race, especially if you’re spreading some knowledge about your culture to others. as long as you don’t look down on any other race, i feel like it’s totally acceptable. 408. What fictional story would you like to live through? harry potter i guess. 409. Are cats or dogs smarter? haha idk. 410. Have you ever guessed someone's password and broken into their diary? nope. 411. What teacher, if any, has effected you the most in your life? maybe my art teacher. she was a little crazy but she really helped me understand that i had potential. 412. Are you more easily bored or excited? both tbh. 413. What's the bravest or most daring thing you have ever done? traveled 14 hours by myself to dubai. nothing spesh, but it was a first for me. 414. "What's the point of robbery when nothing is worth taking?" (- Adam Ant) some people would beg to differ. 415. If your man or woman served you breakfast in bed as a treat what would you want? the typical big breakfast: eggs, sausages, bacon, beans, toast, hash browns. 416. What do you do only when you are upset? cry. 417. What's the oddest CD in your collection? an aqua remixes album. 418. What's the best diary name you ever saw? none that i can think of. 419. What would your friends be surprised to learn about you? i watch a lot of stupid shit on youtube. 420. Who owes you an apology? no one really. 421. Who deserves an apology from you? no one lol. 422. How would you like to treat your kids differently from the way your parents treated you? i’m happy with the way my parents treated me tbh. 423. Which do you like best: 60's, 70's or 80's fashion? 80s. 424. What is the worst pick up line ever used on you? ‘do you wna come up to my room?’ ‘no, i have a boyfriend.’ ‘so do i.’ fuck off lol. 425. Of the following, which word best describes you: inventive, kinetic (energetic), light-hearted, mature mature. 426. Do you own a record player? Do you use it? no. 427. How easily do you make friends? it depends. if i’m in a group of people who don’t know each other, then yeah pretty easily. it’s harder for me to make friends with people who already know each other. 428. What is the difference between having character and being a character? you’re not exactly being your true self by being a character i guess. 429. Are there any animals you flat out refuse to touch? anything that stings. 430. Do you care about your weight? yes, def. 431. Did you/will you go to the prom? i went. 432. Have you ever wanted to date twins? haha no. 433. What one thing would you change about high school if you could? nothing. maybe study harder. 434. If you came with a warning label, what would it say? brutally honest. 435. Are you artistic and creative? i’d like to think so, but i’m losing my touch. 436. What were you (probably) doing on this date last year? same shit, probably working. 437. What are you obsessed with? makeup. 438. What was the last compliment you received? i like your lashes. 439. Do you have any brothers or sisters? one sis. 440. Who would you like to be alone with right now? my boyfriend. 441. Do you push people away when you really want them to come closer? nah, i hate that reverse psychology shit. it never works. 442. Is a prenuptial agreement necessary or does it take the romance and trust out of marriage? i think it takes the romance and trust out of marriage for sure. 443. Do you lie your way out of things? not usually. 444. Are you better at talking or listening? depends on the person. probably listening. 445. What will only happen to you once in this lifetime? turning a certain age. 446. Know of any conspiracy theories you think might be credible? haha no, i hate that kinda shit, i’ll be obsessed with it for a good week. 447. What are the most beautiful words that have ever been spoken to you? nothing, just nice compliments and stuff. 448. If it were legal would you own a human slave (race unimportant)? no thanks. that’s terrible. 449. Have you ever read your own writing at a poetry reading? nope. 450. What is one simple thing that gives you the happy shivers? planning a holiday. 451. What do you do for exercise? a bit of everything. i’ll do treadmill, cross trainer or bike and then do weights. 452. Would you rather have a strict teacher with a sense of humor or a lenient teacher that doesn't teach? lol wtf? who the fuck would choose the second option? 453. If you ever have a baby what might you want to name it? haven’t decided. 454. If you won free tickets to a concert from a radio show and had to choose between Inxs, Poison, Blondie and Moby, which would you choose? omgggg. if i had to, prob moby. 455. Are you a good cook? not good, but i like cooking. 456. Do you prefer when things come with no assembly required, even if they are a bit more expensive? depends how much more expensive. 457. Start a sentence with the words: what if what if i got paid for doing these. 458. Are you more spontaneous and unpredictable or loyal and routine? loyal and routine. 459. What is the highest number you can count to in your head? meh. 460. How do you go about losing weight? eating healthy and exercising. 461. Do you have street smarts? i guess. 462. Do you have a lot of common sense? yes. 463. What is your favorite flavor of ice cream? cookie dough. 464. What's your favorite movie that involves dancing? save the last dance. 465. Would you ever want to become a guest on a talk show? If yes what would the show's theme be? yeah sure. idk what the theme would be, anything that i’m plugging. 466. Do you like the way you look naked? no. 467. Have you ever dissected an animal? yes. 468. Who do you know who is brilliant? my boyf. 469. Who do you know who is dull? haha. 470. Do you ever think about time travel? not really. 471. What is one interesting fact you know? you’re more likely to die by a coconut falling from a tree and hitting your head than being killed by a shark. 472. Do you talk to yourself? Do you talk to your pets? only in my thoughts. yeah sometimes i talk to my dog. 473. Do you believe that humankind has a future in space (will we live there some day)? possibly. probably not in my lifetime though. 474. Would you rather wear clothes that you don’t mind getting dirty or more delicate outfits? depends where i’m going. 475. How do you 'live life to the fullest'? taking risks, doing a lot of things you’ve never done before and aiming to complete your bucket list. 476. Are you sloppy or a neat freak? i’m in the middle. 477. Would you rather have a trunk full of nickels or half a trunk full of dimes? half a trunk. 478. What is the worst mistake you've ever made? idk. 479. Are you in good health? not really. 480. Are you patriotic? not really lol. 481. The greenhouse effect is bad for your health. i can see that. 482. There are about as many molecules of air in one breath as there are hairs on your head. crazy. 483. The Miss America pageant started out as a contest in which people decorated wheel chairs and one chair was judged the prettiest. cool. 484. To remove a tattoo a physician can place a small balloon under the skin, which is inflated so that the tattooed skin gradually stretches. Then they cut the stretched skin away. lol i’ve never heard this. 485. Cock fighting is a sexual sport. well, it can be. 486. It is the warmest time of the day during the hour that the sun is the highest in the sky. oookay i think i’ll leave it here unless there’s anymore questions in this survey. 487. Certain scientists specialize in studying cow farts. 488. The brilliant colors (reds, oranges, yellows) across the sky that we get from sunsets are caused mainly by pollution. 489. In Grimm's original fairy tale, Rapunzel is pregnant. 490. Dracula was the first movie about a vampire. 491. The inventors of Corn Flakes, the Kellogg brothers, ran a school for delinquent youth. 492. "Kemo Sabe" means "soggy shrub" in Navajo. 493. Sir Thomas Crapper invented the toilet. 494. The Earl of Sandwich invented the Sandwich. 495. Some Chinese alchemists were trying to invent an immortality medicine and accidentally invented gunpowder instead. 496. The human body is made of about 99% water. 497. Bubble gum contains rubber. 498 This survey to the zero power = 0. 499. Most lipstick contains fish scales. 500. There are 86401 seconds in day.