#an elderly woman in subway who again showed us how to get on the station and the guy who she caught to help us since she did not understand

[wigilda]

by the way polish people understand ukrainian incredibly well. like we met random guys on the street who got us especially if we talked slowly and judging by what my groupmates said (because i actually know polish, and they do not) they understood most of polish words as well. i didn't expect it at all and that felt fuckin amazing plus i didn't think i'd talk with such an ease (it's been 4 years since i really studied this language)

#special thanks to #the guy who was smoking sitting on stairs in front of dorms' entrance and told us how to get inside at 1 a.m. in the morning #the guy on reception who always smiled at me and held keys to our rooms ready as we came in after figuring out the door #(i think he liked me <3) #the guy in the subway who pretended he didn't see us #us (a company of five ukrainian students giggling loudly and hysterically and talking photos) #and told us at which station we should change the line #the lovely woman with black hair and kind dark eyes and slight wrinkles on reception who was very kind to me #when it was my first attempt to communicate in polish #an elderly woman in subway who again showed us how to get on the station and the guy who she caught to help us since she did not understand #ukrainian perfectly #and all other people i forgot!! thank you poland!! #good days!!

[loudlytransparenttrash]

Check your privilege. You are not on the side of Asians, only the whites who have been supposedly the most affected by this. Says a lot that THAT is what you're worried about.

Yes, I’m sorry, the media, politicians and activists widely condemning an entire race and pinning the racist attacks on them is no big deal and should not be discussed, you are right. You may have a point. In my last post, I did not bring enough attention to the severity and often savagery of these recent attacks against Asian Americans, usually elderly. The victims deserve to be heard and their violent, racist attackers condemned to the fullest. So let’s do that.

On January 28th, 84-year-old Vicha Ratanapakdee was walking in his driveway in San Francisco. A 19-year-old male barreled into him, knocking him to the ground. The male, Antoine Watson, was accompanied by a 20-year-old female. Two days later, Ratanapakdee died of his injuries. In March, an elderly woman was beaten during a robbery in broad daylight in Daly City. The attacker stripped her of her belongings and started to leave, before returning to club her again. In San Jose, on February 5th, a 64-year-old Vietnamese grandmother was getting into her car after withdrawing $1000 in cash in advance of the Lunar New Year. Two males yanked open the car door, grabbed the woman’s purse, keys, and phone and fled.

On January 31st, a 91-year-old man was walking along an Oakland sidewalk when a young male came up behind and pushed him to the ground. As the man’s head hung over the curb into the street, the assailant calmly continued walking off. A 60-year-old man and a 55-year-old woman were attacked in Oakland’s Chinatown by the same assailant. Seventy-five-year-old Pak Ho was robbed and killed while taking his morning walk near Oakland’s Lake Merritt in March. He hit his head on the sidewalk and was taken off life support for brain trauma shortly after. On February 3rd, a 71-year-old grandmother was walking across an Oakland sidewalk towards her apartment when a young man dashed up and knocked her to the ground. A second male ran up and danced around as the first pulled the woman’s purse from her body, breaking the strap. Both males then ran off with the purse.

On February 23rd, two 19-year-olds and a 20-year-old walked into a San Francisco laundromat where a 67-year-old man was sitting. They kicked him to the ground, dangled him upside down by his legs, twisted him back and forth and beat him while they rifled through his pockets. Finally, they found his wallet and walked out the door. An 88-year-old great-grandmother, Yik Oi Huang, went missing. When her son searched the park next to her home, he saw what he thought was a pile of old clothes next to a recycling bin. It was his mother, beaten so brutally as to be unrecognizable and choking on her own blood. Her pants were down and her belly exposed. The 18-year-old suspect had gone on to burglarize her home, stealing jewelry and house keys before fleeing the area. Huang died. On March 18th, a man yelled “you motherf**king Asian!” as he knocked a 68-year-old Sri Lankan unconscious on a New York subway. The man remains in a critical condition. On March 21st, a 37-year-old woman attending a rally in lower Manhattan against anti-Asian violence was punched twice in the face by a man who took her protest sign and stuffed it in a trash can. In March 2020, four teenage girls assaulted a 51-year-old woman on a bus in the Bronx, hitting her with an umbrella and accusing her of spreading the coronavirus.

On March 30th, a man assaulted a mother on a train heading to Times Square, New York, and began yelling anti-Asian slurs at her and her three children. He then knocked the woman’s phone to the floor and kicked it off the train. On March 27th, a man beat and choked an Asian man unconscious aboard a Manhattan-bound train. The attacker repeatedly punched the man down to the subway seat, he then wrapped his arm around the other man’s neck, putting him in a chokehold for nearly 15 seconds, before the victim’s body falls to the train floor, his head flopping back unconsciously. Also on March 27th, a 37-year-old woman was at a NYC station when she was approached by a man who struck the woman in the face and made anti-Asian statements to her. On March 24th, a 35-year-old woman was riding on a NYC train when a man on board started making racist slurs her. When the victim started recording him on her cellphone, police say he smacked it out of her hand, picked it up, and smashed it on the ground. 

On April 3rd, an elderly couple were attacked in Tacoma, Washington by a 15-year-old male, who ran up to them, swinging punches at the man as the woman cries out while others record it and cheer. Another video shows the victim being further verbally abused and assaulted. On April 7th, a 25-year-old female was sitting, talking to a friend, when an individual made anti-Asian statements and slapped her in the face. On April 11th, a 57-year-old man was brutally assaulted on an Oakland street. The perpetrator sat on top of the victim, holding him down physically and landed blows to his face and chest as the victim struggled, screaming for help. On April 13th, a man was walking through the streets of the Upper East Side, ranting about Asians and white people, when he followed after a man who walked into the street to get away before the suspect followed him and body slammed him into a glass storefront. The victim tried to run away, but the suspect chased him until someone intervened. On April 14th, a convicted sex offender was arrested after following a woman into her garage, shouting race-based insults at her and spitting in her face.

How do I show I’m on “Asian’s side”? I’m allowed to condemn these violent, racist attacks, but I can’t condemn the violent, racist attackers because every single one of them is also black, and I can’t condemn the media and politicians for not only hiding the truth about these violent, racist attacks, but putting all blame and condemnation on an entire unrelated race in order to advance a radical agenda? Since I apparently can’t be “on Asians side” while at the same time condemning the corrupt and distorted reporting and narrative of these attacks, I will not pay attention at all to those who are committing the attacks or those who are using them for profit and gain. That’s how this works, right? Thank you for making me woke like you xx 

[skarsgard-daydreams]

Voices Carry

Ch. 2: “Don’t Turn Around”

[ Eins | Zwei | Drei | Vier | Fünf | Sechs | Sieben | Acht | Neun | Zehn | Elf ]

Description: Merkel accepts a job to smuggle a young woman out of East Berlin, and it turns out to be more than he bargained for.

Warnings: smoking, poor grasp of the German language, possible historical liberties, probable sexual content in the future

Notes: Thank you for the positive feedback! I tried to make it possible to work out the meaning of the German phrases in this chapter based on context, but I also included a glossary at the end.

A dull roar filled the grimy subway station and a rush of wind blew past as the red and yellow S-Bahn train came out of the tunnel, slowing to a stop in front of the platform crammed with commuters. Irina adjusted the bag on her shoulder and shuffled onto the train with the other men and women wearing long thick coats and woolen scarves, all of them weary from work and longing to be home. Jostled by the crowd, Irina moved further into the train and grabbed hold of a pole to keep her balance as the train shot forward, the familiar roar filling the car. That’s when she felt his breath on her ear.

The tall man behind her spoke softly, stretching an arm over her to grab onto the same pole she was holding. “Irina König?” he asked, standing close enough that she caught the scent of tobacco and a warm, woody cologne laced with spices on his clothes as he spoke directly into her ear in a way that would have felt intimate if she knew who he was.

Every muscle in Irina’s body tensed. She nodded slowly.

“Your father asked me to meet you,” said the man. “Stay on at the next stop.”

Irina said nothing. She had no idea who this man was or if he was actually sent by her father. Her jaw tightened as she gripped the pole with clammy hands, realizing that this man knew where she normally got off the train. Maybe he’d been following her for some time. She glanced up at his hand resting against the pole. He easily towered over her, and he was standing in the path of her only exit.

The sign at the end of the car flipped over, displaying LENINALLEE as the train slowed. An idea began to form in Irina’s mind. She couldn’t outrun or overpower this man, but maybe if she caught him by surprise, she could push him out of the train at the platform. If she timed it right, the doors would close and he wouldn’t have enough time to get back on before it sped off.

Just as the train came to a stop, the man placed his hand firmly on Irina’s shoulder and propelled her further into the car. Stunned, she moved forward without resisting. More commuters piled in behind them, blocking access to the door. The man gave Irina a little push and she fell into an open seat. She looked up at him, her heart hammering. He loomed over her, dressed in a long blue overcoat with the collar turned up against the wind. He had dark hair that was buzzed short on one side and the most intense eyes she had ever seen. On the surface, his expression seemed neutral—almost bored—until you looked at his eyes. They were gravely serious. The man glanced over his shoulder as the train doors closed again, then fixed his gaze on Irina. She swallowed hard.

The train rushed on, stopping at two more stations. Neither of them spoke. Irina weighed whether this man was telling the truth as the train rattled through a curve in the tunnel. It wasn’t impossible. Johannes König was a paranoid man, and he had often talked about finding a way to send Irina to live with her aunt and uncle in the West. It wouldn’t be unlike him to send someone to find her if something ever happened to him.

Irina looked back up at the man, her stomach twisting with worry. “My father,” she began. “Is he…?” Her voice sounded smaller than she’d intended. Vulnerable. She tried to find the words to finish her question, but fell short, and instead sat there fuming for showing that side of herself to a total stranger, even if it was just for a moment.

The man stared down at her with those deep, hazel-green eyes for a long moment. “I saw him this morning,” he said, shrugging a shoulder. Irina pressed her lips together tightly.

The train slowed again and the man beckoned her to get up. “Kommen Sie mit,” he said. Irina rose to her feet and wrapped her light brown coat around herself more tightly as she walked out onto the platform. She felt the man’s hand press against the small of her back, and he guided her out of the station, following closely behind. Irina recognized the bombed-out ruin of a train station that hadn’t been repaired after the war and guessed they were in Friedrichshain. The man steered her wordlessly up the street and turned left into an alley that had been renamed for a famous Russian patriot and filled with identical concrete apartment blocks. He paused in front of one of the buildings and pulled the door open, holding it for her.

Irina paused, too, and looked at him hard. “You haven’t even told me your name.”

The man arched his brow slightly, seeming surprised at her sudden defiance. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold air, and it gave him a boyish quality. “Call me Merkel,” he said.

“Merkel,” she repeated, but she didn’t move. She searched his face for any sign she should trust him.

Merkel watched her quietly. “Alles klar?” he asked after a moment.

Irina wanted to scoff and tell him that was a stupid question. Either he was being honest, and her father was in deep trouble, or he was lying, and she was the one in trouble. She had never been worse. She sniffed from the cold air and then nodded, refusing to meet his eyes. The wind rattled the door. As they stood there, an old woman dressed in her nightgown appeared on the second-floor landing and shouted down at Merkel.

“Schließe die Tür!”

“Ja, Frau Engel,” Merkel said quickly. He ushered Irina inside and pulled the door shut tightly against the wind. He walked up the stairs and gave the wrinkled woman a respectful nod as they passed her on the landing, where she stood scowling.

They ascended another flight of stairs and Merkel stopped outside one of the apartments on the third floor, sliding his key into the lock. Irina followed him inside, sweeping her gaze across the room, looking for any clues that might suggest malicious intent. The apartment was small, with stark white walls and dark hardwood floors that needed polishing. A plush orange couch sat against one wall in the living area, facing a small television set that teetered haphazardly on top of several record boxes. Records and books were stacked everywhere, and the coffee table was littered with yesterday’s newspapers, a half-empty box of Cabinet Reds, and a pile of cassette tapes with handwritten labels.

“You don’t entertain much,” Irina observed, stepping over a pair of boots left in the doorway and sitting down on the sofa.

Merkel chuckled, kicking the boots aside. “How did you guess?” He moved to the cramped kitchen and busied himself with filling a copper kettle at the sink.

Irina shivered. The apartment was warmer than it had been outside, but just barely. She leaned forward and took a cigarette out of the box, lighting it with a match. She took a long drag, reclining back against the cushions, and watched Merkel as he fiddled with the finicky knobs on the old gas stove in the kitchen. Blue flames suddenly erupted under the base of the kettle and he yanked his hand away quickly, letting out a small exasperated huff that made Irina laugh to herself.

Something about the way he’d acted toward the elderly woman had set Irina’s mind at ease. Perhaps she was being naïve, but she suspected if he was going to hurt her, he would’ve done it already. Merkel had brought her here with little more than gentle coaxing, and his apartment seemed ordinary enough for a young bachelor in East Berlin. Irina crossed one leg over the other and brought the cigarette back to her lips. No, she wasn’t concerned for herself any longer. But if her father had sent someone to meet her, she knew that something terrible was about to happen.

German Glossary

Kommen Sie mit - come with me

Alles klar? - you good? (though it can be used in different ways)

Schließe die Tür - close the door

@skrsgardspam​ @b-afterhours​ @emmyrosee​ @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @bebetriste​ @bethskarsgard​ @xluvparis​ @bskarsgardlove92​ @scuba-seamus​ @goblincxnt​ @dragsraksllib​

#atomic blonde fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfiction #merkel fanfiction #gordon merkel fanfiction #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #gordon merkel #merkel #atomic blonde #voices carry

[cryoculus]

Hello! I was just wondering if you were taking requests right now? If so, could you please write something for Sakusa Kiyoomi? It can be anything from fluff to nsfw. If not, feel free to ignore this ask. I love your writing!

» Word Count: 1,539 wordsCross-posted on AO3

I think it’s painfully obvious at this point that I rarely check my askbox. This oneshot has been posted for a while now on AO3, too. 

---

You're only vaguely aware of the train screeching to a stop when you cracked one eye open.

"We have arrived at Shibuya Station. Please stand clear of the doors and mind the gap between the train and the platform. Thank you."

The groan you wrenched out sounded awfully dry in your throat as you forced yourself to sit upright. Shibuya was the most crowded district in Tokyo, and you'll probably get your ass kicked out of the train if the marshals found you sprawled all over the seats. Your cheek felt cool from where it had been pressed against the cold metal, but you managed to overlook the sensation as you tried to pull yourself together.

"No more yakinikus that lasted until morning," you swore under your breath. "No more."

The train doors finally opened, and you were at awe with the influx of passengers this early in the day. It was barely five A.M but Shibuya was already bustling as usual. As each of the Tokyo commuters filed inside the car, you noticed the way their eyes would latch onto your inebriated form for one second before deciding to sit as far away from you as possible.

You scoffed. Damn, at least you weren't driving drunk.

It seemed like an eternity has passed before you heard the doors signal for a close. The car was pretty much packed now, save for the vacancy to your right. The schoolgirl sitting beside you seemed rattled enough by the stench of sake that clung to your clothes, so it wasn't a surprise that no one had bothered taking the only seat that's left.

That was until he arrived.

"What a pain," grumbled the unreasonably tall man, face scrunching up beneath his face mask.

Rather annoyed, you flipped him off without a second thought, making the elderly woman in the adjacent seat gasp. "You either sit the fuck down or shut the fuck up, buddy."

Little miss schoolgirl squeaked at your uncalled-for antagonism, and your conscience was beginning to nag at you to stop letting the damn alcohol talk. If someone even vaguely recognized you, you were going to get an earful from your coach later in the day.

Tall, snark, and handsome—wait, did you just call him handsome?—narrowed his eyes but then a flash of something you couldn't quite single out shadowed his face. Before you could ponder about it more, however, the train was beginning to pick up speed, leaving the district of Shibuya behind.

When he didn't say anything more, you found yourself being able to sink back in your seat as you closed your eyes. Who knew that cold, subway train seats could be comfortable—

"Quite embarrassing, isn't it? For a V. League Division One libero to be seen in that pitiful state?"

All of a sudden, your wide-eyed gaze snapped itself back at him—expression turning rigid with panic. Fuck. He recognized you?

Then, your stare wandered down to the black gym bag strapped across his lean shoulders. Three large claw marks were plastered across the surface, and you had to resist the urge to vomit all over the floor.

MSBY Black Jackals was printed in shiny, gold lettering, and you could almost see him smirk through that damn face mask.

The next ten-or-so minutes were spent channeling all the negative energy you had on your person and shoving it all on the man before you in a heated gaze. How dare he look so composed, gloved hand clutching the handrail so nonchalantly as if he didn't just insult you?

"We have arrived at Shinjuku Station," the voice of the woman speaking through the PA system rang in your ears. "Please stand clear of the doors and mind the gap between the—"

"Do compose yourself, (Surname)," Black Jackals guy taunted as he made his way towards the exit. "You can't always let the night life run its course until morning."

"I know that, jackass," you hissed, earning yourself even more judgmental stares from the other passengers.

Thankfully, he decided to let you have the last word, the only retaliation you saw from him being the glimmer of smugness that shined in his dark irises. Tall guy stepped off the train and disappeared in the throng of Tokyo commuters within seconds.

Once the train veered into motion once more, you scooched a little to the side to make space for the first passenger of the day who didn't give a shit sitting next to a drunk. He was busy scrolling through weird TikToks on his phone to care, and that's when you finally allowed yourself to relax.

You decided that, once you got a decent amount of sleep, you were going to hunt that damn Black Jackals guy down.

---

"You were out drinking again, weren't you?!"

Your face twisted at your captain's shrill voice grating at your ears. "Maricchi, I got here relatively on time, didn't I?"

"Relatively?" Mari echoed, tapping her foot with waning patience against the floor. "It's been thirty minutes since warm-ups began, and you had the guts to show up with a hangover? (Name), we've only got two liberos on the team, and Sakura is still on maternity leave. You can't both be out of commission!"

You waved away her fury with a nonchalant gesture. "Right, right. Could you, um, tone it down a little? Your voice is magnified by like a hundred in my head, just so you know."

"Whatever," she told you dismissively. "I bet you forgot we're having a joint training session today, too."

"A...what?"

"Yeah, idiot," jeered your captain. "Or are you too hungover to notice all the damn men with us today?"

You stared at her in confusion before letting your gaze wander across the entirety of the gymnasium. Some were talking among themselves, while others sought out the help of your teammates in doing their sit-ups.

Now, joint training sessions weren't an entirely new concept to you. Division One V. League had a knack for mixing up male and female teams in the said training sessions, so the match-up didn't really come as a surprise to you, but it just had to be that team, didn't it?

Black uniforms with golden claw marks slashed onto the fabric. The gods really were out to torment you today.

"Oi."

You hated yourself for reacting instinctively to the familiar voice. Craning your head to the side, you were met by the same, dark eyes that ridiculed you first thing in the morning. This time, though, he was devoid of the black face mask he wore during his commute, and you hated yourself even more for thinking that yup, he definitely was tall, snark, and handsome.

Sakusa Kiyoomi—that was his name.

"How long can you hold up against outside hitters?" he questioned, carding his fingers through his inky hair. "Division One liberos aren't a joke, but from the way you were half-dead in the train earlier, I figured it would be merciful to go easy on you."

You could practically feel Mari's eyes burning holes in the back of your head. However, you opted to save the explanations for later.

"Listen here, you punk," you ground out through gritted teeth. "You don't give a rat's ass about my well-being, got that? Send a thousand spikes my way and I'll dig every. Single. One."

His mouth twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile, but there was an unspoken challenge in his eyes that you'd want nothing else but to take on. Before he could speak again, though, another party has joined the fray.

"Oomi-kun, you aren't usually one to talk unless spoken to," the Jackals' setter, Miya Atsumu sighed, slinging an arm around Sakusa—a show of familiarity that the latter didn't seem to enjoy. "What're ya doin' canoodling with the enemy, huh?"

"None of your business, Miya," Sakusa scoffed before turning back to you. "I'll take your word on that, you drunkard."

You gasped, steeling your expression. "Bring it on, asshole."

"My, my. Such competitive spirits this early in the season!" Miya hollered at your unbridled hatred for the other right off the bat. "Well, Oomi-kun and I are gonna get goin'. He still has to spike some of my tosses."

"What—"

The blond tutted Sakusa before he could get another word out, pushing him by the shoulders as he sent a wink your way. "Let's have a good game, libero-san!"

Once the odd duo left you to your own devices, you should've expected Mari to explode on you like a nuclear meltdown.

"How did you know Sakusa? And Miya, too? Just what did you get yourself into, (Name)?!"

The sigh you let out is a bit strained as your gaze riveted itself on the other side of the court. True to his word, Miya really did force Sakusa into hitting his tosses, and the sound of a volleyball landing on the floor with a clean spike was music to your ears.

The devil really had no business making him look so cool as he did so, too.

"I have no idea," was what you told your captain. "Come on, help me warm up. No way am I letting that jerk score any hits off me."

#haikyuu!! #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #manga spoilers #hqscenario

[persona-5-for-want-of-a-nail]

Chapter 1 - New Horizons

4/9

Megumi adjusted her glasses as the train continued to clatter along. She held her bag closer to herself, trying to get any semblance of something homey from it, though it was to no avail. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for riding with us today,” As the voice on the speaker began, Megumi glanced up to catch sight of the nearest one. “We’ll be arriving in Shibuya shortly. This is the last stop for this line. Please transfer here for all subway lines. The doors to your left will open.” 

Quietly, she stood up and grabbed onto one of the dangling handles above. Grimacing as a pit formed in her stomach, almost as a bitter reminder of why she was in Shibuya to begin with. 

The glare of the overhead streetlight, the innocent woman’s cries for help, the stench of a hopelessly drunk man, the thud on the pavement, the shouting, and above all else, the harsh grip of the very police officers she had called for help.

Without thinking, she ran her fingers across her bicep, practically feeling the strong fingertips that had dug into her flesh that short time ago. 

“What? Are you for real? A mental shutdown?” The chatter of two nearby girls dragged Megumi out of her trance, glancing over in curiosity. 

“It’s the truth!” The other retorted, a certain conviction in her words.

“To a person though?” Her friend asked, skepticism in her voice. “That’s gotta be a joke.” Still, she giggled, pointing to the phone in the formers hand. “You really love that occult stuff, don’t you?”

Mental Shutdowns…?

Odd.

After dismounting the train, Megumi made her way up into the station square. Her grip tightened on the strap of her bag as she slowly weaved through the crowds. This certainly was different from home… 

A beep from her phone drew her attention back to the device in her hands. Her brow creased as she looked at the screen.

“What on Earth…?” 

Casting on the screen was an app she was unfamiliar with. She knew she didn’t download it, so what was it? She stopped in her tracks and tapped on it, though it didn’t seem to open properly. Megumi sighed prepared to reboot her phone, but then she noticed something. Everything seemed to have stopped in its tracks. 

Even the birds overhead. 

The most striking thing of all, however, was nestled right in the center of the scramble.

Raging azure flames danced and licked away at the skies, though they soon formed together, making a coherent figure, standing tall and proud. Just as soon as it formed, it dissolved, and for the briefest of moments, Megumi could have sworn she saw herself in it. 

And just like that, the world was once again turning. 

Megumi looked back and forth. Was she just seeing things, or…?

Whatever, it didn’t matter. She was probably just tired from the train ride. That was what she told herself, anyway. She looked back at her phone screen, gently setting a finger on the offending app and dragging it to the trash. 

She still kept a tight grip on the straps of her bag as she dismounted yet another train. Yongen-Jaya, this was the place all right. Her steps were slow as she left the station, not wanting to miss the place she was staying- it probably didn’t help that her sense of direction wasn’t perfect to begin with but that on top of how out of touch she’d felt that day, it simply wasn’t a good mix.

Still, she didn’t know a lot about Yongen, but from what she could see, it felt rather homely from the get-go. She gave everyone who paid her any mind a gentle wave as she weaved her way through the area’s backstreets. Sojiro Sakura was the one she was in the care of, if she recalled correctly, but where on earth was…? 

Let’s see… A second hand shop… What looked to be a theater, that could be fun… Takemi Medical Clinic? At least something like that was local, same for the supermarket.

Emerging from the short alley where the clinic was nestled, Megumi sighed, holding her head in her hands. Was she really not even going a day without directional issues?

“Excuse me, Miss.” A gruff sounding voice had asked- no, not asked,- told her, and in response her head shot up, meeting the eyes of a rather menacing officer. Unconsciously, her grip tightened around the cuff of her sleeve. 

“Ah, yes, sir?” She had asked, voice just a touch shaky. The last thing she wanted right now was to cause trouble.

“Are you alright? You’ve been wandering around this area for a while now, you aren’t up to anything suspicious, are you?” Without thinking, her back straightened as she shook her head.

“No sir, I was just wondering where the residential area was.” 

The officer shook his head with a sigh, pointing over to the girl’s left. 

“Just down that way, take the first left and you’ll be there.” 

Offering a quick thanks, she continued on her way.

Don’t make waves.

In a way, it was almost fortuitous. The first house on the left had a small brass nameplate, the surname ‘Sakura’ embossed on its surface. She shuffled from heel to heel as she gently pressed on the doorbell, but received nothing in return. She chewed on her lip. Was he out, or perhaps was there another ‘Sakura’ living in the area…? What to do…

“Ah, looks like no one’s home…” 

Megumi glanced over her shoulder, noticing a delivery man with a parcel under his arm. It was clear he hadn’t noticed her, attention on other things.

“I suppose it makes sense, Sakura’s usually at his cafe around this time. Although, LeBlanc’s in the back alley, I’d probably be best off working on my other deliveries first…” 

Megumi had hesitated for a moment, though she supposed this wild goose chase would have to bring her something at some point. She was thankful, though. It wasn’t nearly as tricky to find LeBlanc. 

Slowly, she pushed open the door, the lingering scents of coffee and curry spices that danced out into the cold air calming her down considerably. It felt… homely. 

“A public transit bus was driven down an opposing lane with its customers still in it! The citizens can’t live in peace if this keeps up.”

...Oh Heavens. 

Megumi craned her neck over to catch sight of the TV mounted on the wall at the far back of the small cafe. Sure enough, a news report of an incident from just a day prior. Maybe it wasn’t in her best interest to stay here after all…? Though it wasn’t like she had much choice in the matter.

“How frightening.” 

Soon, she found her attention on an elderly couple in one of the establishment’s booth seats.

“What could be going on?” The man’s wife had asked, a clear concern on her face. “Didn’t something similar happen just the other day?” Her words made Megumi’s stomach twist. 

“Vertical is… the name of a shellfish used for farming pearls…” 

The manager of the place however, seemed to have minimal concern, simply focusing on a crossword, pen between his index and middle fingers flicking back and forth. Soon enough though, he caught sight of Megumi. His brow creased as he put the crossword on the countertop behind him.

“Right, they did say that was today, didn’t they?” 

She nodded, not even sure if she was supposed to reply. 

“We’ll be going now. The payment’s on the table.” The older man had said, both him and his wife getting up from their table, a small amount of coins left behind on the smooth surface.

“Thanks for coming.” The manager had said, only glancing at the couple for a moment before he looked back to the teenager in the doorway. Still, the couple continued to ‘joke’ on their way out of the shop.

“At least this place is in the back alley, there’s no worries of a car crashing in here.” The man had said, mostly to his wife but the manager picked up on it.

“A what?” 

“Oh? Haven’t you heard? There’s been an entire string of those rampage accidents. I just hope that none happen around here…” 

The manager shook his head, looking as unimpressed as ever.

“It’s none of my concern.” He had said curtly. The elderly man had laughed before bidding his farewell and leaving with his wife. Once the bell had chimed, signalling the door had shut, the manager sighed.  “...Four hours for just a single cup of joe.” He looked away from the table that had been occupied for so long, back to the only other person in the shop. “So, you’re Megumi?” 

She nodded, straightening her posture without thinking about it.

“That’s right. Is Sakura-san here?” She had asked, shifting her weight from foot to foot. He had smiled at that- not a friendly one, but an entertained one.

“Yeah. I’m Sojiro Sakura. You’ll be in my custody over the next year.” His gaze flicked up and down over Megumi’s form. “I was wondering what kind of unruly kid would show up, but… You’re the one, huh?” She didn’t blame him for being confused, she would be too. She was, to a degree. “Have you been told? A customer of mine and your parents are good friends and-” She nodded along with his explanation, which he seemed to notice after long enough. “Well, not that it matters. Follow me.” He turned around and motioned for her to follow, bringing her up a rickety staircase to a large attic at the very top.

The attic was big, if cluttered, one on shelf large bags of coffee beans sat, while miscellaneous junk covered the entire left of the room, a desk in the back covered in old and worn magazines and folders. There was also a small worn bed in the corner opposite the desk, just as dusty as the rest of the room. In the center of it all was a large cardboard box- that she had recognized. 

“This is your room.” Sojiro had said curtly, sweeping over the place with his gaze. “Oh, I’ll at least give you sheets for the bed.” Again, she nodded, an action she was getting used to very quickly, as she stared into the distance. “You look like you want to say something.” He had told her, as if he was testing her.

“It’s just a lot bigger than I thought it would have been.” Megumi had told him, staying as polite as possible. She set her bag down on a table next to the stairs, resting her hands on her hips as she looked the room over again and again. “..Could be cozy though…” She mumbled, more to herself, though it’s not like Sojiro hearing would hurt her.

“It’s up to you to clean up the rest.” He had said, hand lingering on the back of his neck. “I’ll be leaving after I lock up each day.” Sojiro looked back toward Megumi as he spoke “You’ll be alone, but don’t do anything stupid; I’ll throw you out if you cause any trouble.”

“Okay.” She had replied, quickly and quietly. 

Don’t make waves.

“Now then, I got the gist of your situation.” He had begun. Megumi still hadn’t moved from the top of the stairs, standing straight and tall like a tin soldier. “You protected some woman from a man forcing himself on her, he got injured, then sued you. Right?” 

“Mmhmm.” 

“That’s what you get for sticking your nose in a matter between two adults.” His expression was sour, not like he was scolding his own child for doing something wrong, more like scolding a puppy. “You did injure him, yeah?” 

“We-” 

Before she could even begin, Sojiro cut her off.

“And now that you’ve got a criminal record, you were expelled from your old high school.” She didn’t particularly mind that part. She didn’t have much attachment to her old school, much less friends she would miss. “The courts ordered you to transfer and move out here, which your parents also approved. In other words, they got rid of you for being a pain in the ass.” 

He looked so smug at those final words. She knew it wasn’t like that, her parents just didn’t have many other options…

“It’s best you not talk about anything unnecessary. I am in the restaurant business, you know. Behave yourself for the year. If nothing happens, your probation will be lifted.” 

“Yes sir.” As much as she wanted to say that that was her plan, she didn’t want to seem smug, especially after only being in the attic for two minutes. She knew her sentence would last until next spring, but she figured it’d be best to at least try and make the most of it.

“Just remember, cause any problems, and you’ll be going straight to juvie. We’ll be going to Shujin tomorrow.” 

“...Shujin…?” Megumi had mumbled, moreso to herself, but Sojiro still heard it. 

“Shujin Academy. The school you’ll be attending.” He had said so matter-of-factly, an underlying tone of exhaustion in his voice.. “We’ll introduce ourselves properly to the staff there. You’re lucky there’s a place that’ll accept someone like you, you know.” He sighed to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What a waste of my Sunday.”

Megumi stayed quiet. She wanted to apologize, but was sure she’d only get snark in return. 

“Your ‘luggage’ arrived a little while ago. I brought it up here for you.” Sojiro gestured to the large cardboard box in the middle of the room. Without another word, he went back downstairs to the cafe. 

A few moments after he left, Megumi finally broke out of her soldier stance, stretching out and looking at the box from home. She knew a lot of what she needed was in that box, clothes, three spare pairs of glasses and a few other odds and ends. 

She ended up opening the box with a mechanical pencil in her bag. She didn’t want to bother Sojiro by asking for a knife or scissors. No matter the impracticality, it got the job done. Taking the opportunity, she changed into some more comfortable clothes- a grey turtleneck sweater which happened to be her favourite shirt she owned, and a simple pair of black pants. 

Megumi looked around. Cleaning this place would probably be a good start…

It was nothing too complicated, just a bit of dusting here, a bit of mopping there, putting fresh sheets on the bed, piling a couple trash bags on the table with her school bag and tucking away all the loose magazines underneath the table. She didn’t throw them out in case they held any importance to Sojiro.

It was just as she was pushing the cardboard box with her belongings into a low shelf when Sojiro had come back upstairs. 

“What the heck? I heard you making all sorts of noise up here, but I didn’t think you’d be cleaning.” He had said almost as soon as he came up the stairs, looking around the room. Megumi had opened her mouth to apologize- what for, she didn’t actually know, but Sojiro had interrupted her before she could even speak. “Actually, the place doesn’t look too bad. Though it’s only natural you’d want to keep your room tidy.” 

That was the first time she even tried to smile in days. Even if it was rather backhanded, she would take the praise regardless. She stood up straight, but before she said anything in reply, she yawned. What time was it, anyway…?

“Why don’t you go to bed for tonight?” He had suggested. “You don’t have anything better to be doing, right?” Sleepily, Megumi nodded, getting a nod from Sojiro in reply. “I’m going to close up shop and get out of here myself. Just remember that I’m not the one who’ll be taking care of you if you get sick from staying up too long, got that?” 

“Mhmm…”

Megumi had changed into her soft, creamsicle-coloured pajamas, and looked around the attic once more. She debated doing more work with the cleaning, but she really didn’t feel up to it, practically ready to pass out as soon as she hit the sheets. 

As tired as she was though, she couldn’t sleep. She kept thinking about everything that led up to now. Arrest, then trial, and now a criminal record and probation. What else was she supposed to do though? 

One thing had led to another and she ended up getting home late, she remembered worrying as she checked her watch. She knew her mother would be worried sick about her, but here she was, lightly jogging through the neighbourhood, but slowly her steps became uncertain. 

“Just get in the car!”

She stopped in her tracks completely. Gently, she chewed on her thumbnail. The yelling was coming from her left, but that was the opposite way of home. She was late enough already… Maybe it would just be a second? Megumi found herself trying to rationalize things as her steps guided her toward the voice. Maybe it was just someone trying to coax their pet into their car. At… 8pm. Though she soon found it was hopeless to be optimistic, as she soon picked up on a younger woman’s voice alongside it.

“N-no! Let go!” 

“You dare cross me?!” 

Again, Megumi stopped. She could see what was happening now. She could see under the glare of the streetlight the silhouette of a man forcing himself on a younger woman, and she could see her struggling rather noticeably. Could she even do something about that? Quietly, she took out her phone and dialed for the police, voice barely above a whisper. She was a bit relieved to hear that the police were on their way- what a mistake that would turn out to be.

“No…!”

“Don’t give me that shit.”

“Ow! P-Please, stop…!”

Letting out a sharp breath, she moved forward, her legs carrying her without a second thought. It didn’t matter if she could or couldn’t stop it, she just needed to try. As Megumi approached, she began catching the heavy scent of alcohol looming in the air. If anything, it made her stomach twist more. 

“Tch… What a waste of my time. You think you’re worth causing me trouble? Huh?” The drunken man continued, not letting up.

“I’ll call the police!” The woman had squeaked out. Her nails gripped onto his arm as she desperately tried to pry him off.

“The police are my bitches.” He had growled out. “They’re not gonna take you seriously.” The look of fear on her face only increased at his words. Only moments later the sound of police sirens pierced through the tense atmosphere. The man’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration and anger. “Someone called the cops, huh?” Both his scowl and his grip on the woman tightened. “Get in the car!” He had yelled. “Incompetent fools like you just need to shut your mouths and follow where I steer this country!” 

Megumi felt her blood freeze as the man finally noticed she was there, his gaze staring daggers at her from behind his orange tinted sunglasses. 

“...What’re you looking at?” He snapped out. “Get outta my face!” She took one step back, gripping onto the strap of her bag. “This ain’t a show. Get lost, kid.” His hand slid off the woman’s body as he began fronting on the high-schooler. Before he got closer, he sneered at the woman again. “See? This is all because you’re so damn slow! Get in the car!” He ordered. 

Megumi sighed and shook her head. There was no use even thinking about it now. It was far too late to think about anymore. Just as she felt herself begin to drift, her phone had played it’s little note, trying to grab her attention, which it had. She nabbed it from the floor, and whatever it had tried to notify her on had been pushed to the wayside as she noticed the strange app from just that morning. Her index finger loomed over it, puzzled. Did she not delete it? She thought she did, but she supposed it was entirely possible she didn’t. She was quite frazzled after all. Without another thought, she dragged it off to the recycling bin and placed her phone back on the floor. 

Her eyelids were getting heavy and her consciousness began to drift. She’d be scoping out her new school tomorrow, so maybe this would be her lucky break in disguise. Potential friends, potential experiences… She was optimistic, but she’d have to see the hand fate felt like giving her. 

Megumi wasn’t sure when she had awoke, but nothing about it felt right. Sure her bed wouldn’t be called luxurious, but it wasn’t this uncomfortable… 

The rattling of a chain made her shoot up to sitting, though that only made her notice the chain on herself, going from one wrist to the other with a little bit of give, cuffs linking them to one another. She swung her legs over the side of her ‘bed’ and clutched her head. Sure she could excuse it as a dream, but her wrists certainly did hurt. A chuckle dragged her attention to just outside her new cell. 

Just outside she could see two girls, awfully young looking ones at that. They weren’t identical- she didn’t think so anyway, but they shuffled closer together in sync, as if they were moving in a mirror. As Megumi approached, she only found herself stuck at a point, only to look down and pin the cause as a ball and chain. Now what in the world was this…? Megumi only stared at the two girls, hands resting and gaining a loose grip on the bars in front of her, loose striped sleeves sliding down her forearms. 

The girls stared back, their uncovered eyes unmoving, though the both turned away, no longer blocking Megumi’s view of the long nosed man in the center of the room. He had offered a hand that she could never grab, and announced in a low, booming voice.

“Trickster… Welcome to my Velvet Room.” 

“So, you’ve come to, Inmate?” One of the girls had asked, glancing at Megumi from the corner of her eye. 

“The you in reality is currently fast asleep.” The other had continued, her voice just a bit softer than her cohort. “You are only experiencing this as a dream.” She clarified. 

“You’re in the presence of our master. Stand up straight!” Without hesitation, she did. She could swear she saw the tiniest grin pop up on the younger girl’s face, but said nothing.

“Welcome.” The man in the center had started, the two girls at either side of you falling quiet. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance. This place exists between dream and reality, mind and matter.” He continued. Megumi’s grip only tightened on the bars. “It is a room that only those who are bound by a ‘contract’ may enter. I am Igor, the master of this place. Remember it well.” Igor continued to drum his fingers, which were just a touch too long on his desk. Megumi told herself that she probably wouldn’t forget this even if she tried. “I summoned you to speak of important matters. It involves your life as well.” She furrowed her brow, not wanting to make waves.

“Important matters?” She asked. It was just a dream, that's what she told herself anyway. Just a strange, strange dream. It probably wasn’t that important overall, but there was no reason not to play along. Igor only nodded along at her words.

“Still, it is strange…” He looked around, as if searching for something. She glanced around too, unsure of what the problem was, besides the obvious. “The state of this room reflects the state of your own heart. To think a prison would appear as such…” His gaze returned to her. “You truly are a ‘prisoner’ of fate.” Igor pointed at her, index finger only drifting around; lingering. “In the near future, there is no mistake that ruin awaits you.” 

“Ruin…?” She repeated, concern growing on her face. Igor simply chuckled.

“Worry not. There is a means to oppose such a fate. You must be ‘rehabilitated’. Rehabilitated toward freedom… That is your only means to avoid ruin.” He stared at her again, eyes boring deep into her. “Do you have the resolve to challenge the distortion of the world?”

Megumi stayed silent, though considering Igor’s inclination of doing the same, she realized he was looking for a reply. 

“Well, I’d like to avoid ruin…” To this, he grinned even wider than he already was. 

“Then allow me to observe the path of your rehabilitation.” As he finished his words, the two girls turned on their heels to face her once more. “Ah, pardon me for not introducing the others. To your right is Caroline; to your left, Justine.” Her gaze travelled as he said each direction. “They serve as wardens here.” 

“Hmph,” Caroline huffed out. “Try and struggle as hard as you like.” 

“The duty of wardens is to protect inmates. We are also your collaborators.” She couldn’t tell if Justine was trying to calm her. The words seemed sincere but her tone and demeanor was of ice. “...That is, if you remain obedient.” Megumi decided her uncertainty was best left where it was. 

“I shall explain the roles of these two at another occasion.” Again, as Igor finished speaking, the wardens turned on their heels in perfect sync to face their master. “Now then, it seems the night is waning… It is almost time.” Almost time for…? “Take your time to slowly come to understand this place. Surely, we will meet again, eventually…” At the flick of his wrist, sirens began blaring in the small prison. Caroline snapped her attention to Megumi. 

“Now hurry up and go back to sleep.” 

Megumi was confused, but soon enough found her consciousness fading yet again.

#Persona 5 #Persona 5 Royal #Persona 5: For Want of a Nail #persona 5 oc #megumi kurosawa #sojiro sakura #igor persona #caroline and justine

[elenatria]

How to turn a London Con trip into a “Chernobyl” trip.

I’m home so I can finally make this post.

Where to start.

Okay-

Let’s start with “Chernobyl”. It happened a few months ago, fell on our heads like a nuclear bomb. We all loved the protagonists but Viktor Charkov, the KGB chairman, is also a memorable, creepy, hateful character who got under our skin with the cold truth of his words, the harsh reality of his behaviour. He was too real, too pragmatic to be ignored. From stories I’ve been told in person, he’s no different than the executive arms of tyrants we had here not more than forty years ago. He exists. People like him live among us.

As for the actor himself, so strange. See, there is no mention of Alan Williams’ age on IMDB or Wikipedia and that’s enough to show that, apart from his theatre, TV and film work, little is known about him. Where to find him, contact him, he’s too old to care about social media and apparently he never was too sought out, not with a “face like a bagful of donuts” as he jokes.

But I was thrilled. I wrote the first chapter of “A single bullet” after watching “Chernobyl” and I just had to show it to this elusive low-profile thespian who inspired me. Because... I don’t know, because. Just to say “Thanks for doing a magnificent job. Thanks for helping me understand evil.”

So I tried contacting his agent. I gave her my name and nationality. I thought I’d just send her the link and forget about it.

Apparently, she forgot about it too because I never heard from her.

After a month London Con was upon us, but what to do in the evenings? Plays of course. I booked a ticket for “The woman in black” and “The Hunt” with Tobias Menzies. Then I searched and searched for Alan Williams plays but, to my dismay, he had finished playing Ivan Romanovich Chebutykin in “Three sisters” at the beginning of June and his new play, “Faith, hope and charity”, wouldn’t premiere before September. Just my luck to be in London in between the two plays. No stage door queue, no autographs.

After spending a full Saturday at London Con and Sunday at the British Museum, Monday had to be a day of leisure. A free concert at St Martin-in-the-Fields before lunch was all I was capable of attending, drag my steps towards the closest bus stop that would drop me off… wherever. I didn’t care.

But then I decided to read my post from the previous day about managing to buy a ticket for “The girl on the train” at the very last minute and meeting Alex Ferns, the naked miner. The unexpected ticket, the unexpected hug.

Now how difficult would it be to meet an actor who is NOT doing a play at the moment?

Very very difficult, confirmed one voice.

He’s rehearsing for ‘Faith, hope and charity’, isn’t he? disagreed another. He must be. It’s almost August and the play opens in September. He’s at work right now. He must be!!!

I googled and googled for almost an hour. I found that “Faith, hope and charity” would be staged at the Dorfman theatre near Waterloo station so I called the stage door. I explained to the receptionist that I did not know Mr Williams in person but I was visiting London for only a few days, was a big fan of his work in “Chernobyl” and I would really love to greet him. The man on the phone was very helpful revealing that this was their first day of rehearsing (the incredible coincidence!) and they had started only… an hour ago. He asked my name and I said “Well… you can say Eleni”, I mean, who needs my complicated surname, right? The guy said he’d save my number and let Mr Williams know.

Oh god.

But I couldn’t just sit there waiting for a call, I’d never get that call, come on.

So I rushed to the Dorfman Theatre. I was breaking my brain trying to figure out how I could get the Charkov chapter of “A single bullet” printed in a district with no stationary shops whatsoever. I was hoping I could… shove it into his face I don’t know, and later imagine he’d be reading it. He didn’t really have to read it, just nod condescendingly and lie that he would, and that would be enough to put a smile on my face. Just like all those toys and drawings people give to celebs at cons that end up in the hands of volunteers, assistants or charities, if not in the trash.

When I got there I talked to a different receptionist, a very professional, very unhelpful young man. For safety reasons he wasn’t supposed to disclose neither the time they’d finish nor the time of recess. For safety reasons I had to go through Mr Williams’ agent to get to him. Outrageous, the woman didn’t even forward my story to him, let alone give me permission to meet him. I was hopeless, I was being turned down. I was being an idiot.

“But they must have a lunch break, right??” I insisted. “Can’t I just wait outside?”

That guy was a goddamn sphinx, and the helpful guy was still talking on the phone or to some lady there, I don’t remember, so I couldn’t reach out to him. Suddenly I felt unnecessarily needy as if I was sitting on the subway floor, shaking my hat to passers-by, clinging my few coins. How humiliating.

With heavy steps I exited the theatre. Why is it so complicated, why do I need someone else’s “permission”? I’m not a child. I looked around, it was a sunny day, people were sitting in coffee tables out in the patio. Some tables were empty but I didn’t care, I just sat on a column by the entrance, far enough to not be seen by the receptionists and feel like shit for lingering, close enough to catch anyone exiting.

For an hour and a half I crouched over my phone trying to figure out how to contact the agent without sounding too stalkery. I called the agency but the girl on the phone gave me the same email address where I had sent my fic. Fine. I changed the wording of my message again and again so as not to sound too needy or creepy even if I knew it wouldn’t work.

I knew I had missed my concert for no reason and I would soon have to leave because who doesn’t like giving up? It’s better to give up than stress over something that’s never gonna happen. It always is.

I was seconds away from clicking “send” and making a fool of myself to the agent for a second time when I thought I saw someone, a towering presence stopping a few meters away, looking over, hesitating, waiting.

I raised my head.

There he was, three-dimensional, bathed in sunlight. Not an image in my head anymore.

Believe me when I say that I was staring at Gandalf, Santa Claus, the Grail Knight from “Indiana Jones”, the Big Bad Wolf.

I honestly don’t know what I was staring at.

But there he was, in all his elderly silver-bearded glory. A myth in my mind, in the flesh. How did he know I was there? I didn’t tell anyone. I was supposed to be hiding.

After nanoseconds of deer-like stun I did the polite thing and jumped on my feet, ready for a handshake. I mean, I had to stand up, right? He had come out just for me.

Shit. What had I done? The nerve.

The first thing I remember noticing when I got closer were his faded blue eyes with a distinguishable light-shaded rim circling the iris. The rest was just word vomit, how we all love him on tumblr, write fics, make memes etc.

Memes?

I described to him the “Try me, bitch” edit we all love, courtesy of @two-screaming-rats.

He didn’t get it at first, then he laughed so HARD, so damn hard. You guys have to see Charkov laughing his heart out.

He said he only had a few minutes before he had to go back to the rehearsal so I decided to start the conversation with the Charkov fanfics. He was quick to apologize for not answering my email. “I’m sorry but… but I honestly don’t know what to say when someone sends me a story,” he admitted humbly. “I read all of them but… I mean I’ve been sent stories based on my characters before but I really wouldn’t know what to say.”

Okay first of all, he read my story. I don’t know if he read it a month ago when I sent it or minutes before he exited the theatre to greet me but he did.

Secondly, there are more stories about his characters? WHERE.

“I’m not a writer anyway,” I said apologetically.

The unexpected reassurance. “But you are.”

I guess one doesn’t have to be The Writer™, they just have to write. What a way to be courteous to a fan though.

Then I mentioned how we love Charkov’s trademark, his glasses, how we’re frantically looking for ‘80s-looking glasses, how we obsess over specific frames and brands.

“They’re not a brand,” he clarified, “they were specifically made for me, they’re an exact replica of Viktor Chebrikov’s glasses. Just like our clothes that were made by seamstresses who worked during that era.”

Naturally I praised the production’s attention to detail that has us ranting, how beautiful and “European” it all looked, how true the script was to Lyudmila’s story as it was described in Svetlana Alexievich’ “Chernobyl prayer”. I talked about my thoughts when I first heard there would be a “Chernobyl” TV series: the Americans made a TV show based on events that affected Europe, now that’s a new one. He mentioned Russian media admitting that they should have made that show, not the Americans. I agreed but also added “That’s the thing, it may be beautifully made, it may be the truth, but it’s still propaganda. Just because it’s true, just because the Soviet government did all those horrible things, that doesn’t mean that the show is not serving someone’s agenda.” He disagreed saying that the Soviet people were shown in a good light for their bravery and sacrifice. Well, we knew that, didn’t we.

I said how impressed I was by his portrayal of Charkov because we were told about people like him by dictatorship victims at school. People who had been tortured in the ‘70s came to us, talking about their time in underground cells, in the hands of sadists like Charkov. I told him about my uncle who was arrested and executed by the Nazis for distributing left-wing leaflets, about my grandmother who had to escape to the mountains during the civil war that followed the German occupation because she was a communist. I explained how real it felt to me, his last scene with Legasov in the kitchen. How bleak and horribly accurate.

He mentioned “You’re one of us, Legasov”. To him Charkov was just doing his job, working for the greater good and he agreed with the quote in my fic, that Charkov “couldn’t wait to retire”.

He then joked about Charkov being blasé after the committee meeting, “Meh, I’m done with arresting people, I let others do it for me”.

I assure you all those questions were answered in a couple of minutes, and I was certain our meeting was about to come to an end.

But then… he gestured toward an empty table.

Don’t let an aged man standing, was my spontaneous thought. I was reminded of my father.

Then I realized. He gestured toward an empty table.

Table. The two of us. On a sunny day.

Time, he was offering me his time.

And… oh my god, this was practically an interview, why was I not recording this, he was answering my questions so effortlessly.

No. That would be rude, that would be greedy.

Just relax and enjoy the moment and try to remember fucking everything.

I asked him what his inspiration for Charkov was, if he based his portrayal on other actors or historical figures. He paused to think and explained that the script was very strict anyway, very defined. However he did mention  Charkov’s line, “I know you’ve heard the stories about us. When I hear them, even I am shocked” and how that reflected Stalin’s hypocritical quote, “What do I know, I’m just a peasant”.

His favourite line was “Trust but verify, and the Americans think that Ronald Reagan thought that up”.

“Is that really an old Russian proverb…?” I wondered.

“I… don’t know!” he laughed.

During the rest of the conversation he mentioned his friend whose job was to translate the Pravda, and his years in Canada where he met Czech-Greeks, namely Greek communists who were driven away by our right-wing government after the Second World War. Even the Soviets didn’t want them so they were sent to the Czech Republic and ended up in Canada. These people belonged nowhere.

I didn’t know that, and he didn’t know about Vladimir Gubarev, the writer of the play “Sarcophagus” and science editor of the Pravda who was the recipient of Legasov’s tapes. I quoted him saying “Why call the protagonist Legasov since that’s not how Legasov was, they could have used a character who’s a scientist and give him any other name.” Like Ulana, I added, who’s a composite character, or Chebrikov/Charkov, mostly fictional.

Our conversation was coming to an end; he asked me what plays I saw in London and he smiled when I mentioned Alex Ferns in “The girl on the train”.

It was truly overwhelming; I was torn between being swept away by the moment, focusing on nothing but the faded blue of his eyes, bathing in the calm rhythm of his voice, and actually paying attention to what he was saying. Only once did my eyes dart at his left hand spotting the unusually thick golden ring on his finger. When one’s mind plays tricks the best way to discipline is a glimpse at The Ring because if he didn’t have nearly my father’s years I’d probably be having a horribly inappropriate crush.

“Time to go,” he apologized.

We took a couple of photos and I pulled out Svetlana Alexievich’ book, asking for an autograph.

“Where should I sign?” he asked.

“Wherever you want.”

He flipped through the pages noticing my page markers, notes and underlinings. “What are these for?”

“Just… just notes. Do you want my—” I suggested grabbing my big-ass permanent marker.

Without a word he gave a knowing smile and, like an experienced conjurer, he pulled out of his jacket an elegant little sharpie. Delicate pens for delicate words.

I didn’t dare read what he wrote to me then, I could only make out his name through that intelligible doctor-like writing. Surely my name wasn’t there because I hadn’t introduced myself. Still, I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.

Time to go.

We shook hands and I said how honoured I was that he had spent time with me. I tried not to stare as he disappeared into the theatre but before I left I ran into the foyer, quickly thanked the receptionist to whom I had talked on the phone and stormed out of the building with that huge wave of adrenaline pumping violently in my ears.

As I crossed the street I was grinning like an idiot. I knew I had to stop right there and write down everything before I forgot - but it was pointless. I’m not a recorder to have to write down everything the minute it happens. It’s enough to remember the pale rimming of his eyes.

Now, two days after meeting him, I’m still torn between pride and embarrassment. What the hell was I thinking? Doesn’t a man deserve to work in peace?

But as I’m writing this and attaching his signature on the first page of “Chernobyl prayer” I dare for the first time read what he wrote to me.

Pleasure to meet you.

People say they have religious moments when meeting their favourite celebs.

Mine was poetic.

What a darling, darling man.

#chernobyl #alan williams #viktor charkov #vikor chebrikov #fan encounter #dorfman theatre #alex ferns #the girl on the train #london #kgb

[lgcezra]

1021 𝗠𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗬,  𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗡:  0800,  𝗖𝗔𝗙𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗔.

        “mornin’.”

        ‘let’s try again.’

        he lets out a sigh before allowing his lips to tug up into a small smile.  “mornin’.”

        ‘there it is.’  she pats his cheek.  ‘really, if you want to become an idol, you need to work on smiling more.  no one’s going to pay to watch someone who's always frowning.  and truly, you have a nice smile.  straight white teeth.  dimples, even.  girls go crazy for that, you know?’

        his smile loosens.

        she narrows her eyes.

        it returns.

        she pats his cheek again.  ‘good.  now back to work.'

        he wants so badly to roll his eyes but stiffens the urge and turns to the breakfast line.  “eggs?”  he offers with another small smile -- it’s not dazzling, but it’s enough to show off the slight indents on both sides of his cheek.

        the girl beams back at him.  ‘yes, please.’

1022 𝗧𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗗𝗔𝗬,  𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗡:  0800,  𝗟𝗢𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗥 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠𝗦.

        ‘this is so dumb,’  the woman next to him murmurs.

        “i know,”  he grumbles back as he puts his hand on top of hers, which is on top of four other hands.

        ‘okay, cleaning crew!’  the elderly man to his right booms.  ‘today, our goal is to clean every floor before noon!  the first team to finish their floor will earn bragging rights!  now, we know jihye and beomseok have won for the past three weeks, but don’t let that deter you!  channel your frustration into working harder to beat them!’

        the man next to him turns and looks in ezra and jihye’s direction.  ‘you two better watch out.  me and won are getting faster.  we’ll beat you this week.’

        “wanna bet?”  ezra quirks an eyebrow.  “beat us, and we’ll buy you lunch.”

        the man laughs.  ‘you’re on.’

        ‘ooh, i’m already feeling the heat,’  the elderly man whistles.  ‘all right.  break on three.  one, two, three, go cleaning crew!’

        the crew splits into teams of two, with ezra and jihye hitting the top floor.

        ‘you do toilets and i do showers?’

        “sure.  i’ll do mirrors, too.”

        she breaks into a grin.  ‘let’s kick their asses.’

1023 𝗪𝗘𝗗𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗗𝗔𝗬,  𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗡:  0930,  𝗥𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗘𝗥𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗦.

        ‘excuse me.  do you know where the post office is?  the map says it’s here, but i can’t seem to find it.’

        “they recently moved.”  he reaches down to zoom in on the phone’s map.  “it’s here, next to the seven-eleven.  if you take this road down to the second interaction and make a left, it should be there.”

        the man thanks him and ushers off---only to be quickly replaced by a young couple who looks equally lost.  they converse among themselves in english before stuttering out where’s the namsan tower? in very broken korean.

        “you’ll have to take the subway, line 4,”  he responds in english.  a wave of relief visibly washes over the pair.  he continues:  “i’m actually headed in that direction.  i’ll walk you there.”

        they chat on the way over.  he finds out that they’re from new york, and they’re pleasantly surprised to hear that he’s only been here for a few months.

        ‘you seem to know the city well,’  the guy comments.

        he scoffs.  “only this area.  seoul’s pretty big.”  but he’s slowly finding his way around, no thanks to all the errands he’s having to run.

1024 𝗧𝗛𝗨𝗥𝗦𝗗𝗔𝗬,  𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗡:  1500,  𝗣𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠.

        he finds that cleaning is much more enjoyable when there’s music playing.  it starts with a hum, and by the third week, he finds himself singing and rapping along to the lyrics.  yes, in korean.

        ( he also finds out that his voice most closely aligns with yang joshua’s, which pisses him off, because it’s yang joshua.  he can’t catch a break with this fuckin’ guy. )

1025 𝗙𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗔𝗬,  𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗡:  0800,  𝗛𝗬𝗨𝗡𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗢𝗟’𝗦 𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗘.

        it takes him four weeks, but he finally passes the test with full marks.

1026 𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗗𝗔𝗬,  𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗡:  1600,  𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗠 𝗕.

        ‘breathe.  ezra, breathe.  in four, out four.’

        he sucks in air as instructed.  one, two, three, four.  and he lets out, shakily.  one, two, three, four.

        “it’s just so fuckin’---”  his fingernails dig into his palms again.  a grip any harder would’ve surely broken through his skin, but he takes in another breath.  one, two, three, four.  lets it go.  lets it all go.  one, two, three, four.

        he turns around, plants his on his hips, and peers up at the ceiling.  he doesn’t want to look at her.  she’s been so patient with him these past couple of weeks, and he hates showing this her this side of him.

        ‘ezra.’

        “what?”  he whips around, narrowing his eyes on the manager they’ve stuck him with.

        ‘breathe,’  she says again, keeping her gaze level.  ‘do it with me.  in four . . out four.’

        they do this for good five minutes before he can finally shake off the urge to punch the wall.

        ‘better?’  she asks.

        “sort of.”

        she motions him to sit down.  he does.

        ‘so . . why did that make you angry?  let’s talk about it.’

1027 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗔𝗬,  𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗜𝗡:  0800,  𝗛𝗬𝗨𝗡𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗢𝗟’𝗦 𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗖𝗘.

        “mornin’.”

        hyuncheol doesn’t respond, doesn’t even bother looking up.

        right.  either he speaks in korean, or hyuncheol ignores him, even though the bastard is perfectly fluent in english.

        “good morning,”  he tries again, this time in korean.  he receives the greeting in response, then takes the invitation to have a seat.

        'how was your week?’  every sunday, it’s the same question, and every time, he struggles to answer.  he realizes that impromptu speaking is not his forte, especially if it’s in a language he doesn’t know well, so he’s been rehearsing what to say before coming in.

        it works.  he enunciates better, feels a bit more confident.

        “i found out my dimples are my selling point on monday,”  he starts.  “a lot more people wanted eggs when i was at the station.  jihye-ssi and i won again on tuesday.  we finished about twenty minutes before second place.  taemin-ahjussi treated us to lunch, since we beat him.  i didn’t get lost on wednesday.  thursday . . i finally have haru’s entire discography memorized.  friday -- i mean, i was here.”  he pauses, debates on whether he should tell hyuncheol about what happened on saturday but in the end, decides against it.  “saturday was okay.”

        no awkward breaks, no english substitutions.  much better than his first sunday reflection.

        he slumps in his seat, folding his arms over his chest.  here goes another four hours.

        in the past few weeks, he had spent this time challenging hyuncheol:  do you really think making me do chores would change anything?  how is sitting here and doing nothing helping me?  but he has since then learned to keep his mouth shut.  hyuncheol can kick him out.  and for him, in particular, that’s not an option, because if he’s kicked out, he has to go back.  he’s only here on an entertainment visa, and if that’s taken from him, he has no choice but to return home.

        he’s not ready for that.

        he’s not ready to face his parents.

        and if he has to suck it up to stay, then so be it.

#1019 #we lov a good character development arc @ u@ #+5 KOREAN LETS GET IT #🍫

[thehuggamugcafe]

The Charlatan: First Day I

OOC: Good morning, my dear customers. I’ve been on quite the roll lately, haven’t I? I hope this trend continues.

This is something to tide you marvellous people over until I get around to posting something related to the Halloween requests.

Well, that’s enough rambling from yours truly. Let us start the game, shall we? ☕

Part 4 of Transfer Student is here. https://thehuggamugcafe.tumblr.com/post/179520794687/the-charlatan-transfer-student-iv

A sigh was breathed past the lips of Ms. Kawakami as she walked on the courtyard’s walkway, the soles of her white kitten shoes clicking as she stopped at a familiar voice addressing her. She glanced up at a tall man with unkempt brown hair, thick brows pinching the slant of his brown eyes as he frowned in clear disapproval. He sighed as he raised a thick, masculine hand, fingers tussling his hair.

Suguru Kamoshida, the PE teacher and volleyball coach. He was also an former Olympic medalist, and if his dedication (for lack of a better word) to the volleyball team was anything to go by, he certainly had talent in athletics.

“What a troublesome situation.”

The brunette Japanese Language teacher sighed as she rested a hand on her hip.

“I can’t believe they pushed someone with a record on me. A male teacher would be better suited for this...”

Although... She couldn’t help but silently admit that she wasn’t sure who she was complaining about the transfer student to: Kamoshida or herself.

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. It wasn’t something she should fret over for now. She had enough on her plate to deal with already...

“Why in the world was someone like that admitted here?”

Mr. Kamoshida made no attempts to hide his disapproval he felt at the situation; his face and his voice spoke volumes of his irritation.

“Who knows? It was the principal’s decision. I was told that it was for the school’s reputation.”

“I would’ve thought that my volleyball has contributed more than enough to cover that.”

“That’s certainly true.”

“Be careful, okay?”

Mr. Kamoshida flexed his lightly muscled arms as he talked.

“Then again, if anything were to happen, I’d kick out a student like that right away.”

Ms. Kawakami pursed her lips as she scratched her head, her slim, feminine digits toying with her brunette hair. As Shujin’s “golden star,” Mr. Kamoshida certainly did have a lot of strings to pull at Shujin Academy. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if he was able to convince the faculty, the student body to give the cold shoulder to the transfer student, and all for having a criminal record.

Shujin Academy couldn’t afford to have any blotches stain its reputation for being a prestigious college-prep school, after all. Then again... It would only bolster the school’s notoriety if, say, a student with a criminal record was reformed.

As the situation was currently playing out, they would most likely outcast her without Mr. Kamoshida having to say anything at all... She couldn’t help but quietly pity the transfer student a bit, just a bit.

“I keep wishing that she’d just end up not coming to school. Still, that isn’t something I should be saying as a teacher...”

“Well, I should be returning to practice.”

Ms. Kawakami’s head bobbed up and down as she nodded.

“Oh, right. The tournament’s coming up soon, isn’t it?”

“Hehe,” Mr. Kamoshida paused to laugh, letting a hearty grin pull at his mouth, displaying pearly white teeth, “having such high expectations placed on you by others is quite a problem in itself.”

Yet you clearly love the attention it brings you.

Ms. Kawakami didn’t dare to voice the thought that just crossed her mind.

There were rumours, of course, unsubstantiated for the most part, but rumour was that Mr. Kamoshida “had a talk” with the necessary people in Shujin Academy to have the previous volleyball coach fired.

She wouldn’t put it past him to have her sacked, simply for speaking up against him or disagreeing with him in any way, shape, or form.

“We’ll have to work hard to make up for the track team too.”

“Yes... that’s true.”

She watched Mr. Kamoshida walk away, and it wasn’t until that she was sure that he was out of earshot that she muttered to herself.

“Why’d it have to be my class...?”

The atmosphere in Sojiro’s car was tense, and although you didn’t show it, you worried that saying the wrong thing might upset your caretaker somehow.

Keep your hands folded in your lap.

Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.

Don’t speak unless your opinion is asked for.

Don’t say anything unnecessary.

The barista in question grunted in annoyance, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he stared---no, glared---out through the windshield. Taillights blinked red, horns honked, and several unkind words were given and exchanged.

It looked like you and Sojiro would be returning home late today...

“Traffic’s not moving at all. You’re taking the train starting tomorrow.”

You nodded silently, not daring to open your mouth.

He paused, and the stress that wrinkled his forehead softened slightly. It was barely noticeable, but for once since you met him, he spoke to you in a somewhat mild manner. You saw that he was doing his best to show that he was annoyed with the traffic jam, and not you; your first impression of him improved slightly because of it, but only slightly.

“So, how was it? The school, I mean. Think you can manage?”

You voiced a soft “mm,” nodding once. “It seems fun.”

However, he breathed a sigh at your response. He didn’t look totally convinced.

“Do you even understand your situation...?”

You blinked as your (f/c)-framed glasses glinted. Your eyes showed confusion behind the spectacles that you wore, and a shimmer of annoyance.

What’s he getting at here? I understand the situation I’m in perfectly well.

“Still, you were expelled once already. To think you’d re-enroll at a different one. It’s not like anyone will be sympathetic with you.”

The passenger seat shifted as you tried to make yourself comfortable. You breathed a silent sigh as you stared out at the busy street, pursing your lips as your caretaker continued talking.

“...If that’s what it was like at school, people might say stuff about me in the future too... What a troublesome kid I’ve taken in.”

You felt a hand curling to a fist that shook in your lap. You clenched it tighter, forcing the barely-there trembling of irritation to stop.

“...Why did you take me in?” you asked, glancing at Sojiro.

“I was asked to do it, and I... just happened to agree to it. I’ve already been paid for it too, after all.”

You said nothing, redirecting your attention back out the windshield, blankly staring at the traffic jam, at the flashing taillights.

It was probably her idea. She convinced Dad to pay Mr. Sojiro to take care of me for my probation period.

Your mind conjured the enraged visage your mother had on that evening. If you focused hard enough, you still felt a phantom pain that was surprisingly familiar, but negative. The phantom pain of being struck across the face.

The low, droning voice of a newscaster on the radio caught your attention.

“Again, a subway has derailed at Shibuya Station, greatly affecting the timetable all across the---”

Sojiro voiced a low, growling sigh of clear-cut vexation.

“Another accident...? So that’s why it’s so crowded. There’s been a lot of those lately.”

Screams filled the air, hair-raising shouts of fear and panic as citizens rushed for safety, running away from the subway platform. The loud screeching of metal was heard as the subway rolled on its side, the high speed resulting in the train colliding one compartment of the train to another. Finally, a cloud of dust hung in the underground subway tunnel, the live footage cutting to a brunette news anchor.

“That was direct footage from the accident. According to the police, the engineer’s life was not in danger despite his injuries. After questioning, even he could not explain his high speed, and no further comments have been made. Police are looking for a plausible motive. In other news....”

The female reporter’s voice droned through the TV’s speakers, and the staring contest was broken by the gruff voice of an elderly-looking man.

“It’s less of an operating accident and more of a crime of the company and the government. Site inspectors reported all of this 6 months ago. The deterioration of the tracks and ATC. Seems the railway company and the Ministry of Transport both turned a blind eye to the truth. There’s no way they can hide; this will go all the way to the top.”

“Now onto our main story. With this derailment accident, as well as other recent incidents of unknown motive, concern is spreading among the general public. Just what could be causing such a drastic change so suddenly in these people?”

“Everything’s linked. That’s what you’re thinking, correct?”

The tall, long-haired woman standing adjacent to him said nothing. Her brown, mauve red-tinted eyes stared at the TV screen, lost in thought.

“Ah well. You free? You and I haven’t gone for a drink in a while.”

A smile curled the woman’s lips as she glanced at him.

“Thank you, sir, but I have another meeting to attend. I must be going.”

She paused to bow respectfully before her boss, her dark gray heels softly hitting the carpet-covered floor of the SIU Director’s office. Soon, she was descending a winding marble staircase, her gaze falling on a young man who was dressed rather well, dressed to impress himself upon others.

A smile curled the brunet, auburn-eyed 18-year-old’s lips.

“Did you ask for me? Is it a case?”

“Not quite. I want your opinion on something.”

“Sure. Your judgment is quite often correct. Shall we discuss this over sushi, perhaps? You are making a student work late, after all.”

“Conveyor belt only.”

The brunet’s face showed disappointment.

“Aw.”

The lock of the coffee shop was undone with a soft click, and the small golden bell jingled its melodic chime as the door was opened. Sojiro’s disgruntled mood was obvious the moment you crossed Leblanc’s threshold, glancing at the middle-aged barista as his face openly showed the annoyance he felt.

“Damn, to think there’d be that much traffic... What a waste of time. I wasn’t able to open the café today.”

He paused, his gray irises staring into your (f/c)-framed gaze, pursing his lips as he breathed an all too familiar sigh.

“...Whatever. Just head upstairs. There’s something I need to give to you.”

Deciding not to question it, you nodded and made your way for the attic stairs, and Sojiro followed.

He glanced at his cellphone as a news notification blinked on his screen.

“Talk about a gruesome accident... 80 people were involved.”

He slid the cellphone back into his pocket, withdrawing a thin book from the front pocket of his two-button white blazer.

“It’s a diary. Make sure you write in it.”

The black-covered diary hit the table with a noticeable flap noise, landing near your schoolbag.

“You may be under probation, but there’s no special limitations on what you do in particular. Besides following the law, that is. However,” he paused, his forehead wrinkling as his stern stare drilled holes into you, “I’m obligated to report on you, which is why I’m having you record your daily activities.”

Be-be-beep.

You watched as Sojiro took out his cellphone again. You noted how he took the time to glance at the caller ID, and how surprisingly relaxed he sounded. He didn’t sound anything like how he spoke to anybody else, but especially you.

“Hey, what’s up? ...I’m about to leave right now. ...Uh-huh. I’ll see you soon.”

The soft smile that curled his lips fell as soon as he hung up, glancing back at you.

“Well, I’m off for the night, so do whatever you want for the rest of the night. Oh, but don’t mess up my store. If something goes missing, I’ll hand you right over to the cops. You got school tomorrow... You’d better head off to bed, all right?”

“Yes, Mr. Sakura. Good night.”

You weren’t bothered by the fact that he didn’t so much as wish you a good night before he left, no. You watched as he descended the stairs, and it wasn’t until you heard the café door opening and shutting that you moved.

Your gaze eyeballed the diary, picking it up and staring at it.

I should do as I’m told for now.

You all but collapsed into bed, the old, lumpy mattress cradling every curve of your body as you stared up at the ceiling, hands cradling the back of your head in folded palms, in interlocked fingers.

Sojiro had called just as you were getting ready for bed, asking you to flip the sign over to closed, and to lock up for the night. You did as he requested of you.

You had only written a few sentences in your probation diary.

4/10

“Today wasn’t a bad day. All in all, my experience in Tokyo has been as I expected it to be so far: busy and bustling.”

“It’s my first day of school tomorrow. I hope everything goes well.”

Let’s see... I need to take the train to school tomorrow...

You dug out your cellphone from your pocket, eyeing the screen.

Yongen-Jaya... Aoyama-Itchome... Transfer...

More news about that subway accident... It sounds like a lot of people were hurt.

I bet this’ll affect the timetables for tomorrow too...

You breathed a hum of confusion, blinking owlishly as a familiar icon blinked on your phone’s screen. It was red and black, taking the form of an eye.

That strange app from last night is back... It keeps showing up.

“It’s so creepy,” you muttered, placing an index finger on the screen.

You dragged it down as a trash can icon popped up, and it was deleted. Again.

I should probably reboot my phone, just in case...

Exhaustion slowly took its hold on you, and you had enough energy to yawn as your eyes felt heavy. You succumbed to the welcoming abyss of unconsciousness.

The first thing you smelled when you woke up the next morning was the pleasant aroma of coffee and curry. Instinctively, your mouth watered as you got dressed for school. You tugged (f/c) leggings over your thighs, and shoved your sock-covered feet into the dress shoes, tapping the heels on the floor as you straightened the front of your blazer.

I have school starting today... I hope I can get there without getting lost. I don’t want to be late on my first day. I should head out now...

The soles of your shoes clicked as you approached the stairs, grabbing your schoolbag and slinging it over your shoulder as you descended the stairs.

“Oh, so you actually are going to school?”

The surprise that laced his voice, that was across his face was as plain as day.

The bag bumped against your back as you walked, and you greeted Sojiro with a soft, “Good morning” and a small smile as you walked past him.

You didn’t want to intrude on his business, and you didn’t want to be late for your first day, however...

His stern voice stopped you when you were halfway to the café door, and you felt a chill run up and down your spine.

“Hey.”

Crap. It’s this early, and I’m already in trouble? I didn’t touch anything last night!

“You leaving so soon, and on an empty stomach?”

What?

You turned around, confused, and stared at Sojiro as he stood behind the service counter.

“Sheesh... Do country folks go out the door in the morning, hungry? At least eat breakfast first.”

...Breakfast?

Your eyes fell on the steaming plate of curry that was placed in front of an empty stool, complimented by a piping hot cup of coffee. Your mind yelled at you to get to school, but your stomach whined, pleading you to eat the food Sojiro had waiting for you.

So, you swallowed and nodded, shrugging the schoolbag off of your shoulder. You set it on the empty stool on your right, picking up the spoon and slowly, carefully stirred it.

“...Curry and coffee? For breakfast?”

You blinked owlishly up at him, (e/c) irises peering through the (f/c)-framed glasses that sat on your nose.

“...What’s that look for? Make sure to eat it before the customers come in.”

“...Thank you for the food.”

That was all you said as you picked up a helping of curry, popping it past your lips. Immediately, your eyes widened in astonishment, chewing and swallowing what was in your mouth before another helping touched your tongue.

This is... This is delicious! I can taste complex flavours hidden in the bold spiciness... How does he not have more business with food this good?

It amazed you even further when you took a sip of coffee, your (e/c) irises shining with enjoyment.

I’m not one for coffee, but this cup is making me seriously reconsider!

When the last spoonful of curry was washed down with a few sips of coffee, you allowed a smile---a real smile, a genuine smile---to curl your lips as you stared at Sojiro.

“That was delicious. Thank you,” you said, nodding as you stooped down to collect your schoolbag.

“Thanks. Hurry over to school. You’ll end up late if you get lost on the way.”

You nodded, bidding him a quick farewell, and turned on your heels, approaching Leblanc’s entrance.

“Oh, flip the sign outside to ‘open’ for me.”

You turned and nodded. It was the least you could do after he went out of his way to make you breakfast, after all.

“Yes, Mr. Sakura.”

“Be sure to do that for me, all right? Now, you better hurry on out. You’ll be late if you get lost, country girl.”

Again, you nodded, turning around and gripping the latch, tugging on it and pulling the door open. The small golden bell jingled softly as you exited, shutting the door as you left.

You flipped the sign from ‘closed’ to ‘open’, glancing around your immediate surroundings as you took in a slow, steady breath, doing your best to shake off the first day jitters.

Stay calm. Stay calm. You got this, country girl or not.

You paused to glance up at the sky, brows furrowed as you took silent notice of the dark rain clouds that were slowly gathering.

“...Did the forecast call for rain this morning? ...Well, at any rate, I should get to school.”

#persona 5 #p5 #persona 5 au #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #reader #akiraxreader #renxreader #akiraxreaderxren #ryuji sakamoto #morgana #ann takamaki #yusuke kitagawa #makoto niijima #futaba sakura #haru okumura #goro akechi

[btssavedmylifeblr]

DNA - Part Six

Genre: futuristic dystopian smut and angst

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3835 (Part Six of Ten)

Summary: Jungkook had one job: Reproduce. Competition for stud services was fierce, so efficiency was key.  Love is inefficient.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Warnings: angst, men and women used for breeding, references to dub-con body modification

The subway jostled back and forth, bouncing in time with Jungkook’s nerves. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, double-checking the address for the fifth time. He looked up to watch the lighted map above the subway door tick down the stops left to his destination. He didn’t need the map though. Jungkook knew this subway line forwards and backwards. Two stations left.

As he waited, Jungkook scrolled up past the address his brother had texted him and continued past the short interchange of the last week where Jungkook asked if he could come visit. A gap of almost two years lay between Jungkook’s greeting a week ago and the last message from his brother. Jungkook felt a mix of guilt and anger as he read back the message. All it said was “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry” was not sufficient for the way Yoongi had left him. Jungkook was still bitter about his brother’s disappearance from his life. He understood now more than ever why his brother might have wanted to leave the farm. But it didn’t excuse him leaving with no explanation. Jungkook would still be holding out for a better apology if he didn’t need his brother’s help now. Yoongi was the only man Jungkook knew who had voluntarily left the farm, and he needed to know how he had done it.

An elderly woman carrying a large sack of vegetables waddled on to the train at the next stop. Jungkook got up to let her take his seat. One station left.

He checked the map on his phone again. His brother’s apartment wasn’t far from the subway line, very close to the place they grew up. He couldn’t understand why his brother came back here. Yoongi had always been desperate to leave their old neighborhood. The older boy claimed he was destined for bigger and better things and Jungkook had always believed him.

As the train pulled into Jungkook’s childhood subway stop, he was filled with a strange combination of nostalgia and dread. His old station smelled exactly as he remembered: a mix of spicy fried food, coffee and urine. Not pleasant, but surprisingly comforting in its familiarity. He let his feet carry him up the stairs to the exit. The advertisements on the walls had changed, but not the cracks and crevices in the foundation.

Cold wind whipped past the stud as he reached the top of stairs and stepped onto the street. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up against the wind and balled his hands into fists which he stuffed in the front pocket of the thin grey hoodie.  He couldn’t stop shivering. Jungkook was not dressed appropriately for this weather. This was the first time the stud had left the farm in over two years, so outerwear wasn’t a big part of his wardrobe. Bulls technically got two days off a month to visit family and friends, but Jungkook had never used them, preferring to spend the time racking up more sessions. There was no one outside the farm who needed or missed him. And every day on the farm was a day he could spend getting closer to his goal.

As he turned down his brother’s street, Jungkook opened his phone to check the GPS one last time. More guilt washed over him as he stared at the apology that had gone unanswered for such a long time. He was grateful Yoongi had messaged him back after the things Jungkook had said to him. He had been so devastated to lose his brother, he said a lot of things he now regretted. He accused Yoongi of washing out, of quitting, and of not caring about him when the older man refused to explain himself.

Yoongi’s apartment sat at the top of three flights of stairs, though the steep rickety metal stairs at the very top were more similar to a ladder than a proper staircase. The rooftop apartment was a small add-on room with a balcony that looked out at the roofs of surrounding buildings. Jungkook chuckled when he saw the laundry laid out to dry on a drying rack, all black, even down to the underwear. At least some things never changed.

Jungkook knocked on the door and heard a loud crashing sound, followed by a mumbled “Well, shit.”

The door opened and his brother stepped outside, large black garbage bag in his hands, full of take-out containers and empty ramen bowls.

“Hey, Kook,” he said, brushing past the younger man to toss the garbage in the large trash can near the top of the stairs. Jungkook knew better than to expect a grand show of emotion from his brother. Yoongi was always too cool for that.

The older man looked mostly the same, with one noticeable difference. Yoongi’s signature platinum blonde hair was gone, and he was back to his natural black. Jungkook was surprised he had dyed it back. His brother loved the statement the bleached hair made. Dying your hair was a way of owning your genetic status. Enhanced humans very rarely dyed their hair. It would be wasting valuable money their parents paid for that hair in the first place. Yoongi always said one of the perks of being unenhanced was it gave him the freedom to experiment on his own, figure out his own unique fashion. His brother was so much more confident and self-assured about his status than anyone else Jungkook ever knew.

“You changed your hair.” Jungkook said, wanting to ask more about how his brother was doing, but not knowing where to begin.

“It grew out.” Yoongi replied tersely, before opening the door and gesturing for Jungkook to come in. “Sorry for the mess,” he muttered, as Jungkook stepped into the apartment. “I tried to clean up a bit.”

It worried Jungkook that this was what “cleaned up” looked like. The small one-room apartment was drowning in refuse. The bed was pushed into one corner, a desk and computer faced another corner, and the fridge, stove, and washing machine clustered on the wall near the door. More take-out containers, burnt cigarettes, and empty greasy pizza boxes covered most of the available surfaces. A pile of dishes that had fallen over in the sink appeared to be the source of the crash he had heard earlier.

Yoongi plopped down in the desk chair, spinning away from the computer to face the room, motioning for Jungkook to take a seat on the bed. Jungkook pushed some clothes to the side and sat down gingerly.

“What have you been doing?” Jungkook asked, eyeing the computer. The computer seemed to be the nexus from which all trash in the room radiated, surrounded by ashtrays and crumbled bags of chips.

“Delivery drones.” Yoongi answered, picking up a heavy-looking control pad so Jungkook could see it.

“Do you like it?” Jungkook was trying to make conversation, but his brother wasn’t giving him a lot to work with.

“It’s boring.” Yoongi shrugged, looking down at his workstation and gathering up another handful of garbage that he shoved into a nearby trash can.  “But it gives me time to work on my music. And the pay is alright.” He looked back up at Jungkook and added “Nothing like what you’re making, I’m sure.”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I only just paid back the farm,” he mumbled.

“Congrats.” But Yoongi’s tone didn’t sound very congratulatory. “I’m still working on that.”

An uncomfortable silence fell across the two men. Yoongi got up and walked over to the small refrigerator next to his washing machine.

“Want a beer?” he asked, pulling out two cans.

Jungkook shook his head. Studs didn’t drink. Alcohol lowers your sperm quality. Yoongi nodded and put one back before returning to his seat. Cracking the beer open, he looked at Jungkook again. Jungkook figured it was time he got to the point.

“I need your help.” Yoongi snorted. Jungkook rubbed his hands up and down his thighs nervously. “But first, I think I owe you an apology.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi arched an eyebrow and took a sip of his beer.

“Yeah,” Jungkook sighed, “I shouldn’t have been so mad.”  The younger man fidgeted with a rip in the knee of his jeans. “I realize now you probably had your reasons for leaving.”

The older man exhaled, taking another big gulp of beer, his expression softening. “I’m sorry too,” He said, twisting the tab of the can back and forth in his hands. “I never should of talked you into going there in the first place.”

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “I don’t think you could of talked me out of it”

Yoongi leaving home to go to the farm had been one of the most devastating days of Jungkook’s young life.  His brother was the only one in the house who understood him, who looked out for him. While the other kids would make fun of Jungkook’s sketches and steal the few art supplies he managed to acquire, Yoongi defended him. When he shared a room with Yoongi, no one ever messed with his stuff. When he was feeling down, Yoongi would always sit with him and let him listen to the other half of the earbuds from the Ipod Yoongi had spent all of his summer job money to afford. Jungkook still had that Ipod. His brother had left it for him when he went to the farm to keep the younger boy company in his absence.

It was inevitable that when Yoongi left home to become a stud, Jungkook would follow him. Jungkook idolized his brother and followed him everywhere. He had to wait four long years before he could follow him to the farm. It only made it all the more devastating when, only six months after Jungkook had finally arrived, his brother abandoned him again.

“You know I never wanted to leave you, right?” Yoongi asked, setting down his beer and looking up at Jungkook, tugging on his earlobe with one hand like he always did when he was nervous.

“So why did you?” the younger boy asked, crossing his arms.

Yoongi sighed and shook his head, picking up a box of cigarettes from the desk. He selected one and placed it between his lips, before rummaging around in his coat pocket for a lighter.

“I thought you quit.” Jungkook chastised. He hadn’t seen Yoongi smoke since the older boy’s rebellious teenage years.

His brother shrugged, finally finding the lighter. “Doesn’t matter if I reduce my sperm count now.”  He lit the cigarette and took a first slow drag.

“It matters if you get cancer and die,” Jungkook argued.

“Does it matter to you?” His brother asked, as he puffed out the smoke.

Jungkook’s mouth fell open. Of course, it mattered to him. Yoongi was the only real family Jungkook had ever had. They weren’t biologically related, but it had never mattered. He felt awful that his brother would think he cared so little for him.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whined, “I’m sorry.”

Yoongi took another long drag from his cigarette, followed by an equally long exhale, then stubbed out the rest in an ashtray, apparently deciding not to finish it.

“I fell in love.” Yoongi murmured, finally admitting what he wouldn’t tell Jungkook before.

“Really?” Jungkook leaned forward. Maybe his brother understood exactly what he was going through. The stud thought of the ache in his heart over the girl he loved, and how Yoongi must have felt the same pain. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yoongi looked regretfully down at the cigarette he had stubbed out too early.

“I didn’t want to mess up your shot,” he said, looking up at Jungkook with a sad smile. “You were doing so well.” He laughed. “You were the golden boy.”

Jungkook grimaced at the nickname, but nodded. “Who did you fall in love with?”

“Someone I shouldn’t have.” Yoongi took another sip of beer, pulling back the corners of his mouth into a small frown. “They didn’t feel the same way. But I didn’t know that until I asked them to leave. I thought they’d go with me.” Yoongi sighed, finishing off the beer and tossing it into the pile of trash near his desk.

Jungkook suddenly worried about what he would do if his girl didn’t want to go with him. But she had been so upset, so sad, and so horrified about the milking machines. He was sure she wanted him to get her out.  

“Where were you going to go?” Jungkook asked.

“To the North.”

“What?” Jungkook inhaled sharply. The North was a place of extremism and backwards thinking. No one in their right mind would choose the North when they had been born in the South. That’s what their textbooks had always taught them.

“There’s no genetic modification there.” His brother elaborated. “They don’t have the technology. I could have whatever job I want. I could be a musician. No one would stop me.” Yoongi had always wanted to play the piano, but no one would bother teaching a boy with no genes for it.

Jungkook closed his eyes and imagined it. He saw the appeal. A place where everyone was the same, where anyone could be whatever they wanted to be.  A place where he could raise a family without a fear that they would be judged on their genes their whole lives.

“How did you get out?” he asked.

“I terminated my contract. I have to pay them back still, but we worked out a payment plan.”

“That’s it?” It seemed too easy.

“Do you want to leave?” His brother asked. “Is that why you’re here?”

Jungkook nodded. “I’m in love too.” It was the first time he had ever said it outloud.

His brother gave a long exhale and got up from his desk chair to sit next to him on the bed.

“Jungkook…” Yoongi looked like he needed to say something, but couldn’t. He swallowed. “I’m assuming it’s a cow?”

“It’s a girl,” Jungkook corrected. “But yes, we’ve been bred together. Several times.”

His brother groaned and collapsed backwards on the bed.

“Are you sure it’s love?” He asked, staring at the ceiling. “How well do you even know her?”

“It’s love.” Jungkook straightened his back. “She’s all I ever think about, hyung. I just want to be with her. It’s driving me crazy.”

Yoongi sighed a long defeated sigh. “There was one other condition for my leaving.” He ran a tired hand over his face. “They sterilized me.”

“What?” Jungkook leapt off the bed.

“Irreversible vasectomy.” Yoongi looked over to watch Jungkook’s agitated pacing, but didn’t bother getting up.

“They can’t do that!” Jungkook shouted, pacing back and forth in the kitchen/laundry room.

“They can.” Yoongi covered his eyes with his arm.  “My DNA is their copyrighted property. Can’t have little Min Yoongi’s running around for free. It’s in the contracts we sign.”

“And you were okay with that?” Jungkook was shocked his brother would agree to such a thing.

“I didn’t really care at that point. There are too many fatherless Yoongi’s in the world already.”

Jungkook felt his fantasy crashing down around him. There couldn’t be any laughing children on the beach, couldn’t be any wife with his child in her arms, if they sterilized him. He paced back and forth faster, mind racing to come up with alternatives.

“What if we snuck out?” He asked frantically. “What if we got out and went north? What if we crossed the border?” He looked to his brother.

“That might work.” Yoongi uncovered his eyes and eyed his younger brother, gears turning in his head. “They’d have a hard time getting you back. They’d probably just let you go.” The older man began nodding to himself. “I could get you to the border, if you want to go, but you would have to be sure.”

“I’m sure.” Jungkook urged. “But it has to be tonight. She’s leaving in two days.”

“Okay.” Yoongi sat up, running his fingers through his hair. “You get her. I’ll get you out.”

It didn’t take Jungkook long to pack that night. Other than some clothes and Yoongi’s old Ipod, he had almost no possessions. The farm always took care of everything he needed.

Jungkook had stolen Tae’s key card earlier that day. The breeder had eagerly accepted Jungkook’s challenge on the breakroom Nintendo and had been too distracted by Jungkook letting him win to notice the hand the stud slipped into his lab coat as they played together on the couch.

Jungkook left a note for Jimin, sitting on his roommate’s pillow. It just said “Thanks, hyung.” followed by Jungkook’s phone number. He wasn’t good with goodbyes.

The stud threw a cap over his head to hide his face from the cameras, tossed his backpack over his shoulder, took one last look at his home for the last two and half years, and headed for the breeding pens.

Tae’s keycard allowed Jungkook into the breeder’s observation room next to the breeding stalls. Like the stalls, this room had access to both sides of the compound, so the breeders could come and go as necessary between studs and cows. It also had access to what Jungkook needed most: the directory of where the cows bunked. Jungkook was lucky that Taehyung’s work password also happened to be his log-in for his favorite shooter game they often played together.

Once he knew where she was, he opened the door to the cow’s side of the complex. He pulled his hat down lower over his eyes as his stepped into forbidden territory.

The cow’s side seemed to be a mirror image of the stud’s side, so Jungkook found his way to their bunks easily. He didn’t know what time curfew was for the cows, so he wasn’t sure if they would all be in their bunks or not yet. He found her room number and knocked softly on the door.

A woman in a pink bathrobe answered, eyes widening slightly as she took in the boy that had no place being in this hallway.

“Can I help you?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

“I’m looking for 2050.” Jungkook glanced up and down the hallway. He spotted the camera at the far end, angled so it could observe the whole hall. He didn’t have a lot of time.

“Why?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“I just need to talk to her,” Jungkook whispered. “Please.”

The woman kept the judgemental look on her face, shaking her head side to side as she stepped back into the room.

“Unnie?” she whispered as she went over the bottom bunk closest to the door. “You awake?”

A small groan of confirmation came from the bottom bunk. “What’s going on?” He heard her ask sleepily.

“Jungkook is here and wants to talk to you.” The stud flinched when she said his name. He was trying to be covert. How did she even know his name in the first place? As she turned and walked back into the dark of the bunk room, he realized he must have bred her. But he hadn’t recognized her at all.

“Jungkook?” he heard his girl call his name in the darkness.

“I’m here,” he called back softly.

She pushed back the covers and groggily got to her feet. He smiled when he saw her pajama pants covered in little white sheep. She threw on her own pink bathrobe and shuffled sleepily over to the door. Even in the middle for the night, he thought she was beautiful.

“Jungkook?” she asked again when she saw him. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.” He beckoned her out into the hall with him, not wanting to be overheard by the cows in her room.

She frowned and pulled her bathrobe tighter around her, taking one look back at her bunk, before stepping out into the hallway.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she closed the door behind her.

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Jungkook rushed. “I’m here for you. My brother’s coming. I’m going to get us out.”

“What?” she glanced at the camera, then back at him with wide eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore.” He reached out and grabbed her arm. “But if I ask to leave, they’ll sterilize me.” He squeezed her arm gently. “Please come with me.”

“Where?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and furrowed her brow.

“North of the border.”

She recoiled from him, pulling her arm out of his grasp.  “I can’t do that.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” he urged. “The north isn’t like what we thought. They don’t have modification there. Or breeding. People can just be people.”

“No, I mean, I can’t leave,” she shook her head. “I have family here. I have responsibilities.” She began backing away from him. This was not how he thought this was going to gol. His whole plan was falling apart.

“But I love you,” he pleaded, reaching out to grab her hand.

“You love me?” she laughed and for the first time, he didn’t like the sound of it. “No, Jungkook, you don’t love me.”

“Yes, I do!” He insisted, running his hand through his hair anxiously. “You’re all I think about. All I have thought about since I met you is wanting to be with you. I tried to stop and I couldn’t.” He took both of her hands in his as he pleaded with her to understand him. “I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much. I love you.”

“Jungkook,” she cut him off. “What is my name?”

2050. 2050 was not her name. He didn’t know her name. He’d built an entire life around her in his head and he didn’t even know her name. And he was only realizing it at this moment.

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but nothing came out. He watched his whole dream crumble in front of him as she looked up at him sadly. He wanted her to be the mother of his children. He wanted to make a life together. But he didn’t even know her name. The silence echoed in the long hallway.

“That’s what I thought.” she sighed, squeezing his hands gently, before letting them drop. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I can learn!” He begged, throat constricting. “Please,” he choked out as tears ran down his cheeks. “Please, I can learn. Please, come with me.”

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.” She whispered as she backed away from him. “I have things I have to do here.” She opened the door and slipped back inside her room.

“Please,” he pleaded one last time.

Her lower lip trembled as she shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said one last time before closing the door and disappearing from his life.

“What is your name?” he asked the door. But it was too late. She was gone.

Part Seven 

#bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #btssavedmylifeblr #dna

[zenkatki]

Pandemic Ironman 2020

I have been asked by a few people to write something regarding Ironman Florida, the first full 140.6 Ironman held in the United Stated since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. I have never done a race write up before and I am not sure where to begin. I will take it from training which started in March to the end of the race and the reader can skip around to the parts they find interesting.

Training

Ironman Florida was to be my tenth Ironman, a step on the road to Legacy. I started a training plan that I had used before in February and tweaked it a little with my Ironman Coach certification. I already had a good endurance base from the 2020 Dopey Challenge at Walt Disney World in January, so February was primarily weight training and short distance swim, bike and runs. I still had a pool this month at New York Sports Club in Smithtown.

March is where things got interesting and COVID-19 lock-down started. The gym closed. I quickly purchased a Thermal Reaction wetsuit from Blueseventy and found my gloves and booties. I am fortunate to live 2.5 miles from the Long Island Sound so open water swims started early March. It was freezing but a bit fun to channel my inner Wim Hof. The swim training for this Ironman was entirely open water, with one pool swim in July when my sister invited me to her Town Pool once it opened. It was a concern because I feel pool intervals are important but I learned to incorporate intervals in the open water which helped break up those sessions and gave me focus.

I was able to get weight training done at work, we have a pretty decent set up in our garage. Biking and running proceeded as usual with a mix of outside rides and runs and some Zwift workouts. With a ten month training period I worked a lot of Zone 2 heart rate training, I’ve become a big believer.

It was weird not knowing at this point if the race was even on, and training helped me deal with a lot of the unknown, the anxiety. It pushed me through the spring and summer feeling hopeful despite seeing all the races on the circuit being cancelled. I had a 70.3 planned for late August in Maine that was not to be this year.

Time passed and soon it was race time. Ironman sent multiple e-mails stating they were still looking to hold the race and how it would function. I kept a folder in my e-mail with all the correspondence from Ironman, the airline, the hotel and TriBike Transport.

Travel

For whatever reason this was a tough flight to find. I had to go American Airlines and the flight to Florida was out of LaGuardia to Charlotte to Fort Walton Beach, an airport that was about an hour away from Panama Beach City. Going home was Panama City to Charlotte to JFK. Out of all three airports, JFK in New York was the only one with the Department Of Health forms to fill out upon arrival.

Now the story I’m about to write is to show how important it is to remain alert and pay attention to detail when you travel. Hopefully you will learn from my mistake here.

I wearily got off the plane at Fort Walton and found a cab outside, a nice, elderly man named Bill who was willing to drive me over an hour to my hotel in Panama City. He was driving, we were chatting and he asked me if it was okay for him to stop for gas. Sure, no problem. At the gas station he asked if I wanted to get anything and I said yes, I’ll run in for a drink. As I exited the gas station I saw the taillights of my cab leaving the pump and proceeding down the road. Without me. I did my best to stay calm but my cab had just left me stranded and my bags were in the car, along with my wallet, shield, and ID. I wondered if I was on a television show. After a few minutes it became clear that I was not on TV, and I needed to do something to track down this car. I was angry at myself for not knowing the cab company name, or getting the vehicle’s plate. After getting nowhere on the phone trying to contact the airline I asked the woman at the gas station to call the police. It was at this moment my cab returned, and my friend Bill said he thought it was weird I wasn’t answering his questions anymore and when he turned around and didn’t see me, he remembered I ran into the gas station. I refrained from physically strangling this man and climbed back into the minivan, clearly shook regarding how this race weekend just started.

Hotel

I had booked the Boardwalk Beach Hotel & Convention Center when I registered for this race. It was originally the host hotel and the race was to take place right on the grounds which is super convenient. Due to COVID and the safe return to racing, the race venue was moved six miles away to Aaron Bessant Park so they could spread us out more. I kept the reservation at BBH to be fair and help with the hotel’s business. I did enjoy being there but it was far from everything. In retrospect I should have rented one of those kewl golf carts and used that to get around for the weekend. I spent approximately $100 in Uber fees going back and forth to Aaron Bessant and Pier Park. All my cab fees, airport runs included, came to about $250. A shuttle would have been super nice but I think the majority of the people racing switched their accommodations upon the announcement of the venue change.

The hotel itself was okay, I was on the ground floor so it was out and a short walk to the water and road. The cafeteria had coffee in the morning and some pastries but I only saw them cooking food my last day as I checked out. The people that worked there were nice, I’ll forever remember me cleaning my bike in my room with the door open and housekeeping cleaning the adjoining rooms. I had put some music on the Bluetooth and we had a great time.

Race Check In

About a week before traveling Ironman sent out an Active.com e-mail with a link to reserve race check in times. This again was to space us out and not have us standing in line, clogging up the area. I picked Wednesday night between 5-6PM. Bibs were given out first come, first serve so the lower your bib number was the earlier you checked in. I was #1038. I arrived at about 4:45 with my mask and was told I could go in. It was athletes only so if you were with someone they had to wait outside the Ironman Village for you. I had to answer a short survey verbally, get my temperature taken, and then was directed table to table, just like a regular race. For places where a line of people might happen there were tape marks and lanes were roped off with string and little ribbons indicating every six feet. I was able to pick my bike check-in time for Friday, they gave me a little card with 2-3PM on it. I actually really liked this system and I think it would be great even when racing goes back to its regular routine. I found it interesting that the swag such as the swim cap and back pack didn’t have the race name on it. The finisher shirt and medal had no date on it. I guess up until the very start of the race it was always uncertain if it would be a go.

I learned that Ironman Gulf Coast 70.3 would also be on Saturday, November 7th, with an 11:00AM start time. So both races would be going at almost the same time using the same course and staging area. I received an e-mail from Triathlon Wire with the numbers of about 1250 athletes for the full and 300 for the half.

After checking in I walked over to the TriBike Transport tent, picked up my bike, put air in the tires and rode it back to my hotel. It was dark when I got back so I walked over to Subway for a veggie sub.

Thursday was a day for me to ride a little, swim a little and look around a little. My calves let me know when I did too much walking. That happens to me often at Disney for marathon weekend. You’re in a great place and want to see it all but remember, there’s a race in a couple of days! I did what I could to find vegan food options in a very big seafood area. I remembered to bring food to eat later back to my room, I had a refrigerator and a microwave there.

I walked on the pier and saw a few of the swim course buoys set up. It always looks so far, doesn’t it?

Before bed I watched the athlete briefing on-line and reviewed the race packet I printed out before I left New York. I got my gear bags ready to be handed in along with my bike the next day.

Bike Check In

Friday I rode my bike and gear bags to check in at 2PM. For some reason we also needed to wear our timing chip which made me thankful I watched that briefing the night before, because they really weren’t letting people go in without them. Athletes only again, no one without a timing chip and an event race band could enter transition. In I went with my mask on again.

Bikes were placed every other space on the rack giving us a little more room. Gear bags stayed with the bike. I tucked mine under the rear wheel that was in the air. All items in the bags must stay in the bags even during the race. So the guy two spots down from me who set his area up like he was doing a neighborhood sprint complete with a towel mat had to put all his gear back in the bags. After taking a picture of my set up and saying good night to my bike (for real, I speak to it) I got out of there. I made sure I knew where I was regarding swim in, bike out/bike in and run out before I left. I picked up a veggie pizza before heading back to the hotel. I spent the remainder of that day eating, relaxing, reading, prepping my Special Needs bags. I usually apply race numbers (TriTats) the night before but there was no body marking for this race so I wasn’t going to use up the numbers.

I was slightly concerned about getting to the race start so early the next morning. The front desk had recommended a cab service, but I met an awesome man named El by the hotel pool. He needed a charger for his Garmin. I let him use mine and we started talking about the next morning. He had driven to Florida from Tennessee, had his car and offered me a ride to the start which I gratefully accepted.

Race Morning

Up at 3:45AM race morning. Made instant coffee, ate half a bagel, lubed, dressed, double checked all my bags and headed out. El and I drove to transition and he was able to park close to the transition entrance. Special Needs bags were handed off on the way in to Transition. Masks were on. I went to my bike, double checked the tires and filled the water and Gatorade bottles. They didn’t want us wondering around too much. I did see Chris Nikic walk into Transition. This race was his attempt at becoming the first person with Down Syndrome to complete an Ironman. I thought it was great to see him, a good sign. Now that I think about it at this point I just focused on that good thought and the cab ride from the airport wasn’t even in my head. Mike Reilly was there! I got ready to swim and tucked my Morning Clothes bag behind my gear bags, Morning Clothes stayed with us as well.

Swim

The forecast projected it being overcast most of the day and the morning was a bit cloudy. I picked goggles with a super light tint and it was a good choice. We were to stand with our bikes until our projected swim time was called out. I stayed put until I heard, “1:20-1:30 head to the swim start now!” Everyone thinking they were finishing the swim in that time started out and towards the beach, it was about a seven minute walk on the road and on sand. Some people had throw-away shoes on, I did not. The road had tape marks every six feet, they wanted you to try to stay on them when walk-traffic stopped. On the sand they had roped off lanes with pink ribbons tied on every six feet. We were to stay on a ribbon. There were spectators the whole walk. Eventually my lane made it to the water and they were letting four people enter every five seconds or so. Despite this great system guess what. Once we were in the water in was a traditional Ironman. It took some time to get passed the breaks but once I was in I was going. Two loops, clockwise in the Gulf. I saw fish and a sea turtle. There was a current pushing us sideways so it took some effort and a lot of sighting to stay to the left of the buoys. It wouldn’t be an Ironman if I didn’t get hit in the eye and I got it on my second loop. If you’re familiar with the Lake Placid swim it was like that only no cable though, sorry. Despite it being wetsuit legal I was getting hot towards the end. I really enjoyed the water though and had a swim time of 1:27:01.

T1

My transition neighbors were gone by the time I got into T1 so I had plenty of room. I was expecting to have to wear a mask in Transition but we did not. I had my bike gear in the bag set up so I could just pull it out and put it on and it worked well. I hung my wetsuit on the bike rack to dry hoping that was allowed. It was still there when I got back so I guess it was. Once I was bike ready I made my way out to start my ride. My T1 time was 10:39.

Bike

Because the swim had been warm I started my bike ride a little thirsty which was unfortunately a sign of things to come. To keep contact points down Ironman had reduced the amount of Aid Stations, so after drinking my water and most of my Gatorade quickly it was some time before I could refill. I ate every 45 minutes to an hour on the bike. Solid food was no problem, I had a lot with me and grabbed extra going through the Aid Stations. It was fluid I needed more often than it was available. If the sun had been out full force I think I would have had an even worse problem. It was about 80 degrees, humid, still overcast and windy which meant I was sweating and not really going anywhere when pedaling against the wind. I used the tail wind as best I could to make up time. I really think I need to be re-fit for my bike because at mile 30 I was already having terrible lower back pain. It wasn’t an easy ride and despite everyone telling me how flat the course is, it was over 3,000 feet of elevation. I had to get off to use the porta-potty and stretch early on. I guess at this point I should mention my race kit. I wore a one-piece tri suit from Zoot, the Autism Ohana kit. Google it if you have a chance, I think it’s great. Very colorful and for a good cause. I wore it to remember my friend Lizzie that I run with sometimes in Central Park as a volunteer for Achilles. But there are goods and bads of wearing a one-piece and the bads is definitely when you try to use the bathroom in it. It has little sleeves that are tough to find and get your arms through when they are wet. So there was a struggle in that porta-potty, no doubt. Finally I opened the door. The porta-potty was on an incline and I kind of stumbled out of it and cracked my left knee on the doorway. Then I bent over to grab my knee and hit my big, bike helmet head on the side. I felt like the Three Stooges was trying to do an Ironman, I really did. Shaking my head I got back on the bike and started to go. I felt my knee throbbing for about twenty miles. As I write this I have a wicked bruise. But back to the bike…This was a one loop course on the highways of Florida. There were wide shoulders and a bike lane that we rode in but in the back of my mind I kept thinking this was an active road way and any passing needed to be super carefully done. Cars were courteous enough not to use the right lane but if a driver wanted to be a jerk and use it they could. Any residential/business areas had spectators. As I said before it was windy. I did the best I could and had some good splits when the wind was with me but I needed to get off a few more times to stretch. I finished the bike with a usual time of 7:14:01.

T2

Again I had the area to myself so I sat to change shoes and get ready for the run. I was a little put off by my bike split and my stomach was not 100% but I thought I could have a strong run if I stayed focused. Removing sand from my feet was a challenge but it was important so avoid any irritation so I took the time to do that before I put my socks on. I stretched my back and drank more Gatorade before I left. I had a T2 time of 10:53.

Run

As I started my run I was greeted by just as many spectators as any other Ironman. Some had masks on, some didn’t. Some were dressed up, some played music. Everyone was encouraging and motivating. I started out so happy to be running. This course was an out and back two times along the highway parallel to the beach, passed all the hotels, bars and restaurants. The halfway turning point and the finish line were at Pier Park. For six miles I ran strong and thanked everyone for being out. A lot of people liked and commented on my race kit. It was great. But soon I knew I was going to have to do the run/walk, even as the sun went down and it started to cool off. I was unable to eat anything solid for the majority of the run. The thought of trying made me dry heave. I saw a few people really heaving in the bushes and was afraid I was going to join them. I took in as much fluid as I could, mainly water and Coke. I was sweating out a lot of salt, my neck and face were all gritty. I thought at first maybe it was sand but why would there be sand on my face, right? Out and back, out and back, using whatever I could in my brain to keep moving. I followed the cones they used to mark off the run area. Walk one cone, run five cones. My quads were shredded. I thought of my Mom and my Family. I thought of work and how I wanted to make everyone proud. I thought of the finish line and finally, FINALLY it was my turn to cross. My run took 6:25:20. Mike Reilly called me an Ironman with an official time of 15:27:52.

After crossing the spectator-less finish line I was given a mask and a masked volunteer guided me along, not touching me, to a table with plastic bags containing my finisher shirt and race medal. Someone with gloves and a mask removed my timing chip. I made my way over to Athlete Food and choked down half a veggie sub. I got my picture taken with my medal. (There were photographers out on the course too.) I had completed my 10th Ironman.

As I gathered my gear and dropped my bike back at the TriBike tent, Chris Nikic became an Ironman. I cheered from the parking lot. I started to walk back with the plan of getting passed the road closures to an area where I could call an Uber to get back to my hotel. But I started walking with a man named Dan who had volunteered in a kayak for the swim and at the finish line as well. He had just as long of a day as I had but when he heard of my plan to get back he ran into his hotel, got his keys and drove me to my hotel. And that really, really describes the Ironman atmosphere and Family to me. We all help each other, we all do what we can to get each other through the challenge. I am so grateful I found this sport, these events and have met some of the most amazing people.

I hope this write up helps someone with their goal, be it an Ironman or a first sprint triathlon, or a marathon or whatever. Please feel free to contact me with any questions if I missed something you wanted to know about.

Thank you to everyone for the well wishes, encouragement and congratulations. Thank you to Ironman and the Volunteers for having this race during one of the most hectic times in our lives.

Thank you for reading.

Kristen

[email protected]

Instagram - @zenkatki

[mama-m1na]

Three Rings: Chapter 1

                                                    ~~~I~~~

It was a surprisingly nice morning in Temecula, California.

The sun was hidden by light grey clouds and there was a nice breeze going by compared to the usual bright and dry weather in June.

A teenage female let out a yawn as she made her way down the street towards the park just down the street from her home.

She wore a dark plum, knee-length dress with black wedges and had a brown, leather purse across her body. Around her neck was a pentagram necklace with purple gems and on a shorter chain was an amethyst pendulum with a small charm with a ‘T’ displayed on it. On her left pointer finger was a gold ring with three small diamonds on it; which, was a gift from a friend. Hanging from her ears were a pair of silver, hoop earrings.

Her black hair was left down for the day to just reach her thighs and the length of the dress allowed a decent amount of her golden-brown skin to be left visible as her brown irises speckled with golden flecks were turned down to the screen of her phone.

‘I’m going to meet with the council right now,’ she sent into her discord server before placing her phone back into her purse.

Quickly looking around to make sure no one saw her, the ravenette went behind a fence and headed under the bridge which went over a ditch in the middle of her park.

Going to the second column, past all of the random graffiti, she found a symbol etched into the concrete of three crescent moons tangled amongst each other surrounded by a larger circle.

Taking one last look at her surroundings she held her right hand over the symbol and said, “Lacus.”

It felt as if the floor disappeared from underneath her feet as the surroundings disappeared from around her before changing to the scenery of the entrance of a train station.

Putting her hand back to her side she was about to enter the building when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a window.

“Ugh,” she scoffed looking at how one of her eyes was open slightly wider than the other, “I look so dead inside.”

Taking a small booklet from her bag that read ‘Magical Registration: Identification Card’, she opened it and swiped it over the scanner at the turn gates before walking through and entering her train which had arrived on time for once.

Upon taking her seat the female sighed as the train began to move before taking out a tube of concealer from her purse and a compact.

Using the mirror to see, she put concealer on her eyelids before blending it out with and air puff.

She then put away the tube of concealer before opening the second part of the compact to reveal a small eyeshadow palette and got an eyeshadow brush from her purse before using a light plum shade all over her eye.

After making sure it was even she pulled out a liquid eyeliner and applied it extremely carefully due to the fact she was in a moving vehicle.

It took about forty minutes for the train to get to the ravenette’s stop and she just spent the time responding to people on her discord server.

Resurfacing from the subway, the ravenette found herself standing in front of a building with Roman styled columns and a large sign that read ‘Magic Registry’.

Once again taking the green-covered identification card the female entered before showing it to the secretary who sat at the front desk before being led to a conference room at the top floor of the building.

Upon opening the door the female earned the attention of six elderly looking creatures already sitting at the circular table in the center of the room.

“Hello Ms. Ibadora,” a woman covered in scales greeted, “It’s nice to see your actual face for once.”

“Yeah well I decided to actually try on my appearance today and thought it would be a waste to cover it with a mask,” the ravenette chuckled before taking a seat closer to the door, “So why am I being called in today?”

“We have another job for your circus,” a man with pointed ears said handing the girl a file from across the table, “This one is much more important than the previous jobs you’ve handled.”

The teen’s eyes widened as she read over the contents of the file before she looked up and asked, “Are you sure you want the Three Ring Circus to handle this one?”

“Do you believe you are incapable of completing it?” a human woman asked causing the ravenette to shake her head.

“That’s not it,” she explained, “We’re a group of reject, teenage witches and wizards… Are you sure a job this important should be given to us?”

“I’m sure you’ve handled it much worse,” a human man chuckled, “We let you stay together as an official guild for a reason.”

It was silent as the seventeen-year-old thought about her options.

“Alright,” she finally said slipping the folder into her purse which didn’t show any sign of holding anything in it, “We’ll get it done as efficiently as we can.”

Saying her goodbyes the female exited the conference room and was about to leave the building until the secretary called for her.

“You should probably take this as well,” the woman said handing the ravenette a long envelope.

“A wand permit application?” she read with a raised brow.

“Your old one is about to expire isn’t it?”

“Oh, you’re right well thank you.”

“No problem, see you next time, Ms. Ibadora,” the secretary said earning the attention of a young male walking down the hall.

‘Ibadora?’ he thought with wide eyes walking after the ravenette who had just walked out the doors of the building.

“Kitsami, wait!” he called just as the female was about to descend into the subway again.

“Hm?” she asked looking up to see a familiar looking elf in a Royal Guard’s uniform which consisted of a red, blue, and gold outfit paired with white gloves and boots with a blue cap.

“So it is actually you,” the blonde male stated looking down at the slightly shorter female.

“I’m sorry do I know you?” she asked as the wind picked up a it causing her raven locks to flutter slightly.

“I’m Fidel Einnor, I was in the same year as you in the Trinity Institute,” he explained as the light of recognition flashed through the female’s eyes.

“That’s why I thought you looked familiar, it’s so good to see you again!” she chirped embracing the male for a moment, “You’re part of the Royal Guard now? Congratulations! It must have been a hard thing to do after just graduating.”

“Thank you, and it really was,” he chuckled, “So how have you been, I haven’t seen you since you graduated early after 9th grade.”

“Well, since then I’ve been a Peacekeeper  for the past three years and I’m also the Ringmaster of the Three Ring Circus,” she said brushing her hair behind her ear.

“A Peacekeeper?” he asked with a small frown, “since you were only fourteen? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Says the one who’s in the Royal Guard at seventeen? You’re seventeen now right?” the ravenette retorted, “plus it isn’t that bad once you know what you’re doing.”

“The Royal Guard doesn’t have to go out into the other world and try to keep both worlds safe,” the blonde sighed, “We only stay here.”

“That’s probably why they let me become a Peacekeeper then,” she shrugged, “Considering I didn’t even know this world existed for half of my life. I just knew plain old everyday human life and that I had to hide magic otherwise my parents would call me a freak. Hell, even now I’m being called a freak here because I’m the first witch in my clan within the past ten generations and now I’m the clan head so… Fuck…”

She took a deep breath before taking out a sticky note from her bag and writing something down before handing it back to the male.

“Text me so we can talk again later, I need to pick up a book and I want to get there before it gets flooded with teenagers,” she smiled before descending back down into the subway to wait for her train.

When she emerged from under the bridge the ravenette crossed the street to get to the bus stop and wait for her bus.

When the vehicle arrived she pulled out her student I.D. that read ‘Rhamina Miyu; Grade: 11’ and showed the bus driver before paying her reduced fee.

As she found her seat, the ravenette sent a text in her discord server.

'So we all got another job,' she typed while looking out the window of the air conditioned bus, 'And we're being transferred to Japan.'

Within moments of sending the message she was getting bombarded with questions about their new job and how they were even going to get there. 

The ravenette merely shook her head at all the questions and told them that she would give them details at their next practice which was in two days.

Once at her stop Rhamina got off and walked across the street to her local Barnes and Noble.

She spent quite a bit of time browsing through manga but also looked over some of the stationary they offered.

‘Forty-five dollars for a traveler’s journal?’ she thought looking through the nicely made, leather journal, ‘I could make this for cheaper and better suited to my needs.’

After purchasing the latest volume of ‘Children of the Whales’ and a brush pen, the teen walked over to the craft store behind the chain bookstore to get the supplies she was looking for which were leather fabric and elastic cord.

Once the female got home she immediately got set on making the journal by first making the journal inserts from paper and cardstock she already had then made the cover using the leather and elastic cord.

After the two pieces were finished she just slipped the inserts into the elastic bands in the spine of the leather cover and also slipped her Magical I.D. in it for safekeeping before taking out her wand permit application and filling it out with green ink.

The next day for the female was just spent looking up schools in the area of where they would be stationed as to not draw attention to themselves as a group of sixty teenagers randomly showing up in Japan.

As she did this she mentally thanked her parents for not living in the same house as her.

Her father lived with his new wife in Washington state after he divorced from her mother but also had a house he kept in Japan from his time being stationed there in the U.S. Navy.

Her mother was also in the Navy and was currently on a ship in Hawaii.

Both of her parents were quite appalled upon finding out that she was a true witch, even going as far as keeping her true name from her until she found out from her outside family, but eventually her father began to grow accustomed to the idea and slowly began to support it.

Rhamina’s mother on the other hand… Well, she hasn’t actually spoken to her mother in almost three years. They’ve only contacted each other over email and even then there was almost no emotion behind those words.

Calling her father, Rhamina asked to use the house in Japan for the time they would be working there and he agreed.

The rest of the day the female just read over the files and took notes in the new journal she had made the day prior.

At around four o’clock she received a call from one of the members of her troupe.

“Hello?” she asked as she finished up a sentence she was writing before cracking her back over the chair at her desk.

“Mina, G-lo wants to know if you want to come over to the park cause his phone is like dead,” the voice of her friend, Jamie, requested.

“Sure,” the ravenette replied as she began to put the papers away, “I’ll be there in a bit, I just need to change.”

After ending the brief phone call, the ravenette made her way to her closet to change out of her house clothes into a plum colored shirt and a pair of bleached, denim shorts.

She then put the journal into her purse as well as her phone before heading out of her house, making sure the doors were locked. 

It took less than ten minutes to reach and find the pair of fourteen and fifteen-year-olds sitting at a table under the sun.

“Mina!” called the taller blonde as she ran up to hug the upperclassmen.

“Hi, Jamie,” Rhamina greeted before turning to her fellow Filipino neighbor, “and hello to you G-Lo.”

“Hi, Mina,” the taller male greeted before the trio began to walk around the almost empty park.

“So, are we really being transferred to Japan?” Jamie asked once they reached a more secluded part of the park.

“Yep,” the ravenette replied popping the ‘P’ at the end, “According to the case report there are a lot more magical anomalies in Japan than there should be, even for an Asian country. Our job is to actually find out what’s causing it, report it back to the Council, and put a stop to it rather than just apprehending someone.”

“So we’re getting an actual job is what you’re saying?” G-Lo asked as the wind blew past them.

“Aw, and I was just getting used to Temecula!” Jamie pouted slightly before asking, “What about school?”

“Well, I’ve already contacted the Trinity Institute about that and they’re sending some professors to a local high school for you guys so you’ll be fine,” Rhamina explained, “Oh, that reminds me, make sure your wand permits and Magic IDs are up to date. As soon as we get there we won’t have much free time.”

“Mina, you’re so lucky graduated early and don’t have to deal with school anymore,” G-Lo said earning a chuckle from the said female.

“I don’t have to deal with school anymore but I have to deal with being a clan head while being completely disliked by almost everyone in the magical community for existing,” she retorted, “I would honestly take that over school though, it’s funny making adults get so frustrated over me but not being able to do anything about it because the council favors me.”

“Yeah, that is funny,” G-Lo chuckled remembering the stories of the times Rhamina had been in meetings with said adults.

When their walk was over Jamie was picked up from the park by her mother and the other two walked back to their kuldesac together since they lived in houses right across from each other.

As soon as the female had changed back into her house clothes she looked at the case reports and just knew she would need to make copies of them for the others in the troupe.

Instead of using her printer and wasting ink the ravenette decided to use a spell to have one of her pens copy down all of the files word for word, and image for image.

Normally she wouldn’t resort to using magic for something so mundane but she didn’t have time nor the heart to do it any other way.

The next day the teenager begrudgingly woke up early and changed into an anime t-shirt as well as a pair of normal denim shorts with her normal wedges.

Checking the time to see it was around eight in the morning she sighed before getting her chia pudding that she made the day before as well as her purse which had her traveller’s journal in it.

Immediately she left the house locked the door and called G-Lo; while, walking over to his house.

“Hello?” he asked groggily, making it obvious to the female that he had just woken up.

“Jello, it’s already eight o’clock, the meeting starts at nine and the bus will be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Wait, shit! That’s today!”

The ravenette chuckled when the line went dead and five minutes later the teen appeared at the front door of his home.

“You forgot didn’t you,” Rhamina accused as they began their walk to the bus stop which was on the opposite side of the park.

“I set alarms but they didn’t go off,” he replied brushing his unstraightened hair out of his face while they waited in the shaded area.

When the bus came around the two presented their student IDs before paying and taking a seat.

Rhamina uncapped her Chia Pudding before pulling out a spoon from her purse and beginning her meal.

She tried to offer some to the fifteen-year-old but he denied it saying he was just going to buy something from the stores across the street from the high school. 

At eight forty a multitude of students had gathered at the still locked gate of the performing arts wing of the school and were complaining about how the school never let’s them in on time.

“Fuck this,”  Rhamina hissed as she made her way to the gate with her pendant glowing a light purple.

Along with that her eyes were glowing a soft gold color and her hair began to float as her raised her left hand.

Snap!

With the snap of her fingers the ravenette then pulled the gate opened without the silent alarms going off as her hair fell back down and neither her pendant or irises glowed.

“Mina!” a female called with a surprised/scolding tone.

“What?” she replied as she pulled over a nearby garbage can to keep it open, “We have an important meeting today and need to get started as soon as possible.”

“But we’re Peacekeepers!” the same female voice said worriedly.

“We only get in trouble if we get caught now get in the fucking gate,” Rhamina said pointing at the other kids already walking in.

“Good, someone already opened up the way to the tent,” she said as she walked through the open door of a classroom only to end up in the inside of a circus tent.

After waiting about ten more minutes Rhamina stood up from her spot on the ground and called, “Hey, Band!”

“Hey, what?!” was the simultaneous reply she got before everyone stopped talking and the tent became silent.

“Can someone shut the tent?” she asked glancing at the open archway before a short male closed the door causing it to phase out leaving a closed tent flap in its place, “Thank you, Zack.”

“Now!” she said snapping her fingers once again causing rows of desks to appear in front of the seats where the audience would usually sit, “As you guys are taking your seats what are the status on the recent missions we were given?”

“Trumpets finished their mission with no problems!” a Mexican female called giving a thumbs up.

“Alright, thank you Vivian,” Rhamina said before turning to another section of seats, “Everyone else finish?”

She earned a series of positive responses and nods before opening her purse to take out her traveller’s journal; however, she kept it open near and on her as she cleared her throat.

“Okay, now that basic stuff is out of the way, onto why most of you were actually excited about a meeting for once,” Rhamina said as multiple folders began flying out of her purse and landing in front of each occupied seat, “If you checked the discord server then you’ll already know that we’re going to be transferred to Japan for awhile and those are copies of the case reports for this job of ours.”

“As you know when thinking of places where magic runs rampant, Asia is at the top with the amount of creatures they have,” she explained earning agreements from the Asian teens in the troupe, “But recently there are an alarmingly higher rate of magical anomalies in Japan and the Council believes there was an interference to the peace.”

“So we’re all going to Japan to apprehend someone?” a smaller girl with curly, purple hair and glasses asked.

“Not exactly. With the extent of what has been happening recently the Council believes it is a group of at least ten people who did it and not only are we tasked with apprehending each of them but we have to fix all the anomalies and make sure they don’t happen again,” the ravenette said looking down at her notes momentarily.

“That’s all?” a male sitting towards the back asked with a shrug.

“Don’t get cocky, Justin,” Rhamina said with her eyes narrowed slightly at the male, “It sounds easy but we have some obstacles.”

“Now, you probably don’t know who they are since I’m sure none of you are as much of a weeb as me-” “Bet!” a Filipino female called from the front row next to a Mexican female with short brown hair.

“But I’m talking about the Sailor Senshi and Phantom Thieves of Hearts,” Rhamina continued, mostly ignoring the interjection of her sibling, “The Sailor Senshi are basically guardians and personifications of various celestial beings in space. They are seen as local heroes and normally we would have to do something about them being so flashy about their powers but it’s too late for that since they have basically become quite normal in Japan so we’re leaving them alone. The Phantom Thieves of Hearts are seen by the public as criminals but they’re only doing vigilante work which is what we used to do before becoming Peacekeepers so we’re just going to leave them alone as well.”

“How exactly are they obstacles, hoot?” another Filipino with short-ish brown hair asked from the third row.

“With both groups acting as the guardians of Japan they might see our presence as a threat and normally we would want to avoid them but with what we’re trying to do it’s inevitable we’ll cross paths with both groups,” the ravenette sighed before cracking her neck, “So we’ll basically try to convince them that we mean no harm and not get in their way and hopefully they won’t get in ours.”

“What happens if they do?” another male, this time Filipino, named Justin asked.

“What happens to anyone that gets in the way of the Three Ring Circus?” Rhamina asked instantly causing laughter to erupt throughout the tent.

“Hey!” the female barked, causing the ground to shake.

It was silent as she continued, “I’m being serious. I don’t want any conflict with them but we have a job to do so if they get in our way we know what to do.”

“Are there any questions?”

A few hands were raised and Rhamina picked her sibling first.

“Yes, Kerstin?”

“So we’re being transferred to Tokyo, Japan right?” the darkette asked earning a nod from the seventeen-year-old, “Where exactly will we be living?”

“I found some decent apartments in Tokyo that will be paid for by the Council and I have a house that you, Sam, Chloe, and Tijarah will be staying in with me,” Rhamina replied before choosing another person for questions.

“Alright!” Rhamina said at around 2:50 in the afternoon, “So we’ll be leaving for Japan in about three weeks so make sure you keep training and make sure all of your documents are up to date with the registry! That’s all for today so you’re dismissed.”

As soon as she said that the kids began to exit the tent and ended up back in the school hallway next to the gate they entered from.

Once it was only G-Lo and Rhamina in the tent she swiped her right hand from left to right with her palm held out causing the desks to disappear.

“Well, since we’re here do you want to go to Round 1?” Rhamina asked as they approached the gate which she now had to lock.

“We have three hours till the bus to take us home so might as well,” the male replied.

With that the two teenagers went on the twenty minute walk from the high school to the mall in which the arcade was.

They spent the first two hours playing arcade games and eating some food before they both decided to go up for karaoke.

“Why did I agree to do this?” Rhamina asked on the stage nervously holding a mic.

“No one else was doing it,” G-Lo reasoned looking through the song book, “Plus no one will pay attention.”

“Oh! I think you know this song!” he stated entering the song number as a familiar drum beat began to play over the speakers.

“G-Lo, you edgy bastard,” Rhamina chuckled as the lights began to flash different colors.

“Ever on and on I continue circling with nothing but my hate in a carousel of agony,” the male started while reading the lyrics from the small screen in front of them as the ravenette had begun the dance in the background, “Till slowly I forget and my heart starts vanishing. And suddenly I see that I can’t break free. I’m-”

“Slipping through the cracks of a dark eternity with nothing but my pain and the paralyzing agony,” the ravenette continued not paying attention to the audience they were gaining, “To tell me who I am who I was uncertainty enveloping my mind till I can’t break free and-”

“Maybe it’s a dream maybe nothing else is real but it wouldn’t mean a thing if I told you how I feel,” G-lo sung again as Rhamina dropped to background vocals, “So I’m tired of all the pain all the misery inside and I wish that I could live feeling nothing but the night.”

“You can tell me what to say, you can tell me where to go but I doubt that I would care and my heart would never know,” the ravenette sang glancing down at the lyrics every so often, “If I make another move there’ll be no more turning back because everything would change and it all will fade to black.”

“Will tomorrow ever come? Will I make it through the night? Will there ever be a place for the broken in the light?” G-Lo sung now doing the dance with Rhamina, “Am I hurting? Am I sad? Should I stay or should I go? I’ve forgotten how to tell. Did I ever even know?”

“Can I take another step? I’ve done everything I can. All the people that I see I will never understand,” both teens began singing as they now noticed the large crowd at the base of the stage, “If I find a way to change if I step into the light then I’ll never be the same and it all will fade to white.”

As both teens danced during the guitar solo Rhamina glared at the boy mentally saying, ‘Liar!’

“Ever on and on I continue circling with nothing but my hate in a carousel of agony,” G-Lo sang with a shrug in response to the ravenette, “Till slowly I forget and my heart starts vanishing and suddenly I can’t break free, I’m-”

“Slipping through the cracks of a dark eternity with nothing but my pain and the paralyzing agony,” Rhamina took over once again now plotting ways to get back at the younger male, “To tell me who I am, who I was. Uncertainty enveloping my mind till I can’t break free and-”

“Maybe it’s a dream, maybe nothing else is real but it wouldn’t mean a thing if I told you how I feel,” G-Lo continued starting to get a bit tired from the performance, “So I’m tired of all the pain all the misery inside and I wish that I could live feeling nothing but the night.”

“You can tell me what to say, you can tell me where to go, but I doubt that I would care and my heart would never know,” Rhamina sung feeling the same fatigue, “If I make another move there’ll be no turning back because everything would change and it all would fade to black.”

“If I make another move, if I take another step then it all would fall apart there’d be nothing of me left,” Rhamina sang as the song changed key, “If I’m crying in the wind, if I’m crying in the night will there ever be a way will my heart return to white?”

“Can you tell me who you are? Can you tell me where I am? I’ve forgotten how to see, I’ve forgotten if I can,” both teens sung pushing because they knew the song was almost over, “If I opened up my eyes there’s be no more going back ‘cause I’d throw it all away and it all would fade to black.”

As the two stood in their final pose, panting, the audience cheered loudly and the ravenette sat down on the stage.

“Never will this happen again!” she hissed at the male while trying to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think they would pay attention,” G-Lo responded as both of them walked off the stage and sat down to get drinks and take a break.

While the two were sitting many people came up to say what a great job they did performing and one of the workers even came by to give them a free ice cream each.

“So, I saw that you finally did a face reveal on your Youtube channel,” G-Lo said as they were finishing up their dessert.

“Yeppers, it was on the ‘Senbonzakura’ video I did,” Rhamina replied throwing away the paper around the cone, “It was so much more editing than I would usually do though so I might just stick to the simple drawings in the background I use.”

That night the ravenette sat at her Wiccan styled altar and picked up her tarot cards after saging them.

She shuffled them with her eyes closed, focused on their job on Japan before drawing the three top cards.

The first was the Knight of Cups, upright. A creative, dreamy individual, the Knight heralds new relationships, and friends. As a situation, he brings that holiday feeling- a sociable, languorous time spent musing on the infinite possibilities of life in a sunshine glow. If one falls for the Knight romantically, he may offer affection but one may feel uncertain about his potential as a long-term partner.

The second was the Six of Cups, upright. Past and present mingle, bringing happiness and stimulation. One benefits from skills acquired and contacts from the past, and appreciate what one’s life experience has brought them. An old friend or other acquaintance resurfaces, and one may enjoy time spent reminiscing. The company and ideas offer a spark of inspiration for future schemes and adventures.

The third was the Ace of Wands, upright. As a symbol of creative masculine energy, this card expresses inspiration and good communication, and favors all new plans and projects. Whether one is setting up a business or hoping to start a family, embarking on a trip away or an artistic pursuit, the Ace predicts great success. It’s the perfect time to take an important step forward.

‘Well, this seems like our mission will go smoothly then,’ the ravenette thought as she put away the cards.

If only it ever went as smoothly as she wanted.

~~~Fin. Chapter 1~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Song Used:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPLxGctIQJE

Dance: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgeQPTq2xqk

Image: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/436497388884225850/

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#Three Rings #Chapter 1 #Rhamina Miyu #G-Lo #Kerstin Vera #Samantha Fatimah #Tijarah Charlize #Chloe Rayer #Sailor Moon x Persona 5 #Fanfic #Ringmaster