#it was abrasive before i knew it was new people for the record.

[whatsnewalycat]

Just Dumb Enough to Try

Chapter 22: Cosmic Love

Word Count: 5k+

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags / CW: swearing, cheating/infidelity, domestic abuse, javier's POV, suspense, reminiscing, lets talk about fate bay-be, chats with chucho, fluff, hindsight is 20/20, cops, police interview, pregnancy mention

Chapter Summary: Javier finds out our hero has been kidnapped.

Notes: Chapter title from "Cosmic Love" by Florence + The Machine. I'm posting a little early because I'm avoiding homework right now so, ya know, yell at me to do my homework or something if you want. Thank you so much for reading, I appreciate you!

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Peña Ranch, Laredo, TX July 30, 1998

I need to get fucking glasses.

Javier’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror for approximately the 73rd time on the drive home. Periodically, the bright morning sunlight bounces off something on the road or in the ditch, drawing his attention to the shine like he’s a magpie. His eyes play tricks on him, making him think there’s a car in the wake of the thick dust plume being spit out by the truck’s tires.

He’s paranoid. Rightly so.

All the red flags he brushed off, telling himself it’s not his place to push you into leaving Dan. Thinking you would tell him if it got too dangerous to stay in that house.

This flare of self-righteous anger burns out, and his skin feels like it’s two sizes too small when he recalls the day you told him you had to do something to throw off Dan’s suspicions. Those words. You had to do it. He knew something was wrong, really, didn’t he?

“I don’t want him, Javi, I just want you.”

“Are you leaving him?”

“What if I do? What happens then?”

He saw the abrasions on your face. The tortured look in your eyes. The way you cried when you explained it to him. He knew, in his heart, that you didn’t want to do it. He knew you didn’t have the resources to leave on your own.

After telling you that you didn’t have to do it alone, you came to him, and he retreated. He was scared. He didn’t want to ruin what you have by living together so soon. It feels so fucking pathetic in retrospect. Especially because it came at the risk of your safety.

Because now Dan knows. Found out on his own accord, too. Caught you red-handed. Fucking surveillance cameras.

This was not the way either of you wanted it to go. Before the cameras, there was deniability. You would leave a note saying you left because of the abuse. You could say that Javi, your close friend, gave you shelter in your time of need. Then, if something more than friendship grew between you, it wouldn’t look as dastardly to people (most importantly, to Dan).

The crazy son of a bitch is up to something. Javi kicks himself mentally. He spent last night wrapped around you, sleeping on Dan’s side of the bed. The bliss of love and new beginnings clouded his judgement. Never knowing every second was being recorded.

Not only did Dan get footage of the two of you fucking on the kitchen counter, but he probably also saw you kneeling on the living room floor between Javi’s legs last night, swallowing his cock before he blew his load on your tits. If the closet camera had a clear shot of the bed, there’s also footage from last night before bed and this morning after waking up.

He reaches the end of the driveway and puts the truck in park, then kills the engine. The tightness of his skin continues to irk him. Acid bubbles in his stomach and up his throat, burning his chest.

Javi tells himself that, despite the alarming record he has, Dan is just some lanky psycho that’s feeling jilted. It will be fine. He’s dealt with worse than this. Fucking cartels, for fuck’s sake. One Nick Carter looking motherfucker isn’t a threat. Not really.

He feels conflicted about his desire to kill Dan. The image of Dan sprawled out in the dirt with a hole in his head should make Javi feel sick, but it doesn’t. On one hand, Dan has hurt you in a plethora of despicable ways. On the other hand…

Well. Javi isn’t able to come up with anything to put on the other hand. Which might be where the conflict within him lies. He sees no downside to it. Should he?

If he had been carrying last Saturday night, it would have been over then. Javi used to be as hot-headed as they come, but he’s had to cultivate quite a bit of self-restraint throughout the years.

Hearing that fucking snake call you a cunt and use your family traumas against you was more than enough to allow that familiar all-encompassing red field of vision to take over his actions. Like that an old friend who used to get him into trouble, the red came back to push Javier over the edge when his rational brain was impeding his ability to act.

Explaining Dan’s murder to the police would be a pain in the ass, maybe, but the castle doctrine is strongly upheld in Texas courts. There might be some fallout within the community. Maybe people around town won’t be so fucking chummy with him, then. Their pats on the back as he’s praised for his work in the DEA. Javier Peña, a selfless hero in the war on drugs. It makes him sick to his stomach when strangers tell him how proud they are of him. If they only knew.

Pickles barks at the truck, impatient with his owner’s uncharacteristic lagging. It snaps Javi out of his thoughts. He gets out and crouches down to pet the enthusiastic pup, who wags his stump of a tail, then rolls onto his back, wriggling back and forth, exposing wispy white fur in a plea for belly scratches. His owner grants this request, then stands up straight and strides up the path and into the house.

“Hello?” he calls out when he opens the door. There’s an unintelligible response from Chucho’s bedroom. Javi pursues it and finds his dad rifling through a sock drawer, grumbling to himself. Javi leans against the doorframe, then knocks on it to draw attention his way, “Hey, I have to talk to you about something.”

“Hmm?” Chucho responds without looking.

How the fuck do I even explain this?

Javi clears his throat and crosses his arms, crinkling his nose as he starts, “So, Dan Baker might be coming here soon…”

This gets his attention. He turns around and blinks at his son expectantly. When Javi opens his mouth to talk, then closes it and looks at the ground, Chucho sighs, “Christ almighty, Javier-“

“I know,” Javi sets his jaw, then raises his head to meet his father’s eyes, “She was going to leave him a note today to break up with him-”

“She didn’t break up with him yet?” Chucho scoffs.

“You don’t understand, Dad. This past weekend, I saw him try to drag her into a shed to- to-“ Javi groans and runs a hand over his face, then decides to simplify it, throwing his hands up as he says, “It’s not safe for her to break up with him in person. Trust me."

“So the crazy man is coming here?” Chucho stares, a sock dangling from each hand.

“Most likely. There were cameras at his house, we think he saw us together,” Javi tilts his head and sighs, “And he wasn’t at work when she called there, just left, saying there was a family emergency.”

“Is she here?” Chucho furrows his brow, then leans forward to look past Javier out the doorway.

“No, I had her go to San Antonio. It’ll be safer there.”

Chucho nods, planting his hands on his hips, still holding his socks, as he absorbs this information.

Javier break the tense silence, “So, if you wanted to get out of here-“

“And leave you here alone to deal with this?” Chucho scoffs, “No. I’ll stay.”

Javi starts in a plea, “Dad-“

“It’s not a question,” he meets his son with a piercing stare, asserting that he is not fucking around.

Javi shifts off of the doorframe and pinches the bridge of his nose, conceding, “Fine.”

“Damn right it’s fine, this is my fuckin’ house,” Chucho scoffs, then mutters something under his breath as he finally folds the socks together and throws them back into the drawer.

—

Javi wipes beads of sweat off his face with the back of his hand and curses to himself, “What the fuck is taking so long?”

Pickles whines and tilts his head as if he understands and sympathizes. The squeak-bang of the house’s screen door drags his attention away from the bend in the road he’s been fixating on for the past hour. Chucho groans as he sits down in the chair next to his son, joints screaming from inside his body. After a few moments of silence, he turns and inquires, “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” Javi scans the horizon, rubs his mouth, then plucks a cigarette between his lips. He lights it, then stands up and takes a few steps away, so as to not fumigate his dad.

“Is she worth all this trouble?” Chucho squints at Javier as he asks this, studying his reaction.

Javi chuckles and nods an exhale of blue smoke, “Yeah.” He casts a glance down at the glowing red cherry of the cigarette, takes a drag, and adds, “She uhh… she sees me. Really sees me. And she doesn’t look away. Makes me laugh. Calls me on my bullshit,” he chuckles, exhales slowly, takes another drag, then continues, “God, she’s just so beautiful. And there’s this chemistry between us, and it’s,” he leans back and looks over to his dad, smiling wide as they make eye contact, “I don’t even know. It’s indescribable.”

Fucking love magic.

Words he swears he can hear you say. He takes a drag and exhales, “I love her. She’s worth it.”

Chucho watches Javi’s face, then nods knowingly. A minute passes. Javi crushes the spent cigarette in an ash tray, then sits back down.

“Did you feel like that with Mom?”

Chucho hums in the affirmative, nodding his head, then clears his throat and says, “Your abuelita brought us to CCD at St. Mary’s. I was a shy kid, didn’t know anyone there besides my brothers and sisters. But our first time there, your mother, she sat right down next to me, gave me that big bright smile,” he stops and looks over to Javi, “Your smile. You got that from her, you know,” he looks back out to the horizon and recalls, “She told me that her name is Rosemary and she wants to be my friend. And I knew… I knew I would marry her someday.”

“Ah, madrecita. Always a social butterfly.” Javi chuckles and casts a rueful smile to his dad. While letting this fond memory sink into his long-term memory, he contrasts it with how he met you. He sighs, looks up the driveway again, and admits, “I was a tool the first time I met her. My cariño, not mom, obviously. But I somehow got a second chance. Then a third,” he shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, “I still can’t believe she ended up here of all places.”

“Universe had to figure out a way to push you two dumbasses together,” Chucho comments, then laughs heartily and gives his son an endearing smile.

Javi smiles bright and wide- his mother’s smile- shaking his head as he tells his dad, “She always says shit like that. That it was fate we met again. Meant to be.”

“And what do you think?” Chucho frowns as he looks over to Javi.

“I don’t know,” he admits honestly, leaning forward, pressing his elbows into his knees, “Fate has never made any goddamn sense to me, but somehow coincidence makes even less sense.”

When Javier returned from Columbia a few months ago, everything he did felt like a homework assignment that he didn’t give a shit about completing. He was just spinning his wheels, one inane task after another. Fucking pointless. Fueled entirely by escapism and expectations.

Then he saw you during a particularly busy night at the Pour House. He doesn’t even know what it was about you that commanded his attention. It felt magnetic. His eyes met yours and the world stopped turning, as fucking corny as that sounds. Kimmy said something to him that pulled his attention away, which was enough time for you to disappear and leave him reeling. Before he knew that you were one in the same, it reminded him of when he met that girl in San Antonio.

The first time he laid eyes on you, he thought you were fucking gorgeous. Couldn’t keep himself from staring at you. Again, that gravitational pull like he’s being sucked into your orbit. Maybe you felt it, too. He thinks you did. In your retelling of that night, and how did you put it?

“Then I saw you. I wanted you.”

Maybe the two of you were always going to collide. Two spiraling galaxies pulled in by the other’s gravity, dancing closer and closer until they merge into one singular, dazzling, elliptical galaxy.

That night in 1993, he saw Michelle look up after you said something to her. Fuck-me-eyes flitting up to his with a wave of her manicured hand. He knew immediately that she would be open to casual sex, and that’s all he was trying to do. Nothing serious. Just trying to have some fun. Pining for distractions that would flood his brain with feel-good chemicals.

When Michelle had gone to bed, he fully intended on calling a cab to go back to Ricardo’s place. But, to his surprise, you were out in the living room. His heart pounded in his chest as he recognized you from the bar. When he talked to you, it felt like he knew you already. You made him smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he cracked a smile that wasn’t forced.

He still doesn’t know why he asked you what your worst fear is. The question, and subsequent answer, felt like it stumbled out of his mouth by accident. So scared by his own honesty, he trembled as he admitted to you that it’s being alone forever. You held his shaky hand and told him, “you’re not going to be alone forever,” like it was a promise you intended to keep. He simultaneously hoped you would keep and break that promise.

You fell asleep holding his hand. He stayed until dawn started to seep in through the cheap plastic vertical blinds. When he finally got up to leave, his chest ached as he let go of you. The sleep he was able to get at Ricardo’s house was restless and tortured by the thought of you.

He went back there after another night of trying (unsuccessfully) to shake you from his psyche, greeted by your sex-on-legs roommate when he gathered the courage to knock on the door. She offered him a drink, which lead to (quite a few) more, under the guise of playing the college dorm room classic “never have I ever”, which lead to making out in the light of that tacky neon OPEN sign.

And, listen, he’s only a man. A man that, despite the intent of the visit, was always chasing his next dopamine rush. So when Michelle whispered in his ear between their sloppy drunken kisses, asking him to bury his head between her thighs, of course he was going to oblige.

When he followed Michelle back out to the living room after sex, his heart skipped a beat when he saw the light was on behind your bedroom door. He wondered what you were doing in there and where you were earlier. He wondered what your sheets smelled like. Did they smell like lavender, just like you?

You came out and joined them, played the silly drinking game. He made some remark, insinuating a threesome, and the way you got all flustered at his comment made his cock pulse with desire.

Sex-on-legs Michelle turned incredibly crass, which upset you. After you left the room, he told Michelle they should go to sleep together, then left the bed the second she started to snore. He waited on the couch, hoping you would come back out. And you did. Your doe-eyes were shiny and pained as you told him you wished he was with you instead of Michelle. Soft-spoken and nervous, you confessed you wanted him to fuck you hard. A juxtaposition that drove him wild.

Then it happened. It was like you were sharing the same instincts, working together so fluidly, stumbling back asswards into an intimacy that somehow felt both foreign and familiar, and it marked him. Whiskey and weed on your tongue, lavender wafting off your skin and hair, your soft skin against his, breathy moans as you buried him in your perfect cunt, love-blown eyes meeting his as you both reached climax. Two celestial bodies colliding. You nestled deep into the folds of his brain.

He didn’t know what to do with this inexplicable connection he felt to you. It mystified him. And terrified him.

But now? It’s all he wants.

Butterflies flitter around his stomach. A sigh escapes Javi as he rolls his eyes because are you fucking kidding me, cariño? Butterflies? But that’s what you do to him.

His gaze drops to the silver watch on his wrist. It’s been almost two hours since he parted ways with you. You should be getting to the hotel soon. He stands up and puts some space between himself and Chucho, then lights another cigarette. His eyes fix on the bend in the road and he tries to ignore the persistent static of anxiety beneath his too-tight skin. Pickles whines at Javi’s feet, sensing his owner’s distress.

—

Three hours since parting ways. The number of cigarette butts in Javi’s ashtray grows exponentially. He calls the hotel and they say the line to your room is busy. The twisting in his gut gets harder to ignore every time the minute hand of his watch ticks forward. Something isn’t right. He calls Ricardo and asks him to go check on you.

When he hangs up, the phone buzzes to tell him there’s a new voicemail. He clicks on it.

“Hey, it’s me, just-”

BOOM BOOM BOOM

“Jesus fucking Christ, sorry, checking in with you. I’m in room 516. Give me-“

BOOM BOOM BOOM

“ONE SECOND- Give me a call. I love you.”

This is where he expects the message to end. His head tilts as he wonders who the fuck is at the door. Ricardo wouldn’t be there already. There’s a clatter like you tried to hang the phone on the receiver, but missed.

Javi starts pacing back and forth, eyes scanning the horizon as he tries to finely tune his ears and pick up the faint background noises.

Door closing and locking.

Your voice. What are you saying? Who are you talking to?

A man’s voice. Javi’s heart leaps in his throat. Dan’s voice. He growls, “Get over there and sit the fuck down. Fucking whore, I should have known. How fucking dare you.”

“I’m sorry, Dan, I’m sorry-“

Your voice is closer now. You’re sobbing.

“You have no fucking clue how sorry you’re about to be.”

Dan’s voice is closer, too. Javi storms inside the house and snaps up the keys to the truck.

There’s a commotion and the phone clatters, then your frantic voice directly in Javi’s ear, “He’s here, he’s dressed in a blue suit, red t-“

The message ends.

—

CCTV footage from the hotel and the parking lot show that Dan walked you out to his car and forced you into the trunk at approximately 13:15. The San Antonio Police Department got to the hotel at 13:45. By that time, you were no longer within city limits. SAPD is able to track Dan’s movements until 13:50, which is when a traffic camera captured footage of his vehicle traveling westbound on I-35. After that, nothing.

The hotel room was blocked off as a crime scene, the police put out an APB on Dan and his vehicle, and they alerted the border patrol.

When Javi gets there at 14:45, Ricardo is waiting in the parking lot, leaning on the grill of his car as he watches a forensics team search, photograph, and catalog everything in your station wagon. He jumps up when he sees Javi parking his truck.

“What the fuck’s going on, man?” Ricardo asks as Javi jumps out of the cab and starts off toward the hotel.

He receives a grunt in reply, but follows his cousin into the building, then the elevator. On the ride up, Javi puts a hand on his hip and pinches the bridge of his nose, rattling out, “She was in a relationship when we started seeing each other. And he found out about us. We were moving her into Pop’s place with me today. She was getting out. I thought he would come to me so I told her to-“ he stops when a sharp, gutting feeling stretches across his abdomen. Lump in his throat. Stinging behind his eyes.

The elevator doors open. He stands up straight and ignores his insides being spliced into mincemeat. Ignores the voice in his head.

She told me she didn’t want to come here. I didn’t listen to her. She told me she wanted to stay with me. And I made her come here. I didn’t listen to her.

Ricardo mumbles as he trails behind Javier, “Fuck, Jav. Oh fuck.”

Javi hunts down room 514, brushing shoulders with people from San Antonio’s criminal investigation unit as they move from room to room conducting witness interviews. When he finds the room, it’s being guarded by a stocky, shiny-headed cop in uniform. Javier places a bet with himself that the man used to be a bouncer. He extends his hand to the police officer and explains as they shake, “Javier Peña, I called this in. What do you guys have?”

The cop, Officer Goodwin according to his name plate, informs Javi of the CCTV footage and the APB, then states, “We have units out on all the major highways, watching out for them. Think he’s probably gonna take her back towards Laredo somewhere. Detectives are in contact with local police.”

“I need to talk to the lead on the case,” Javi states, peering around Officer Goodwin. A leather-skinned graying man stands inside the crime scene, near the foot of the bed, with his arms crossed. Indicating that he was listening in on the exchange, he waves Javi into the room. Javier side-steps Goodwin through the doorway and approaches the detective, trying his hardest to keep his face neutral as a fresh batch of stomach acid splashes up into his throat.

The room is almost identical to one he had worshipped your body in just two weeks prior. Almost identical. This queen-sized bed’s white linens are still crisp, smelling of bleach, instead of a lived-in love nest built by the two of you. Lavender and cedarwood, the musk of sex and sweat, lingering cigarette smoke, whispered secrets and promises woven between the fibers of the 250-thread count sheets throughout the night.

Aside from the cold, grease stained pizza box sitting on a dresser, the room appears sterile in a way only decent hotel rooms can. No signs of a struggle is the thought that comes to Javi’s mind, but he doesn’t want to be too macabre.

“Detective Anderson,” he uncrosses his arms and shakes Javi’s hand, “Maria said you’re the victim’s fiancé, ain’t that right?”

The assumption causes him to wince.

“Not quite. The man that took her, Daniel Baker, is- or, was- her fiancé. I’m her,” Javi shifts his weight onto one leg and shrugs, “boyfriend, I guess.”

He can tell by the wrinkle in Detective Anderson’s brow that the situation is already brewing up some confusion, so Javier clarifies with a frown, “We’ve been seeing each other since June, and she just left him today. Or, she was going to when…”

Anderson nods, then looks around the room and back to Javi, “Say, do you think we could talk about this more? Forensics is just finishing up here. Front desk folks gave us the go ahead to use a room downstairs if you’re ok with that. Otherwise we can go down to the station. Don’t matter much to me.”

Javier flattens his mouth into a tight line and nods, “Downstairs is fine,” then follows the detective, past Officer Goodwin, then past Ricardo. Once successfully sequestered in a conference room on the ground floor, Javier begrudgingly settles into one of the squeaky, lightly padded chairs across the table from Anderson, who puts a tape recorder on the table between them and presses the record button.

“So you say you and the victim have been involved romantically since June, is that correct?”

He remembers sitting across from you at Nico’s when your eyes welled with tears.

“The only thing I’ve done for me… is spend time with you. I like you. And being around you makes me feel like I’m choosing what I want to do, for once. Which is… terrifying.”

You shoved yourself away from the table and tried to hide in the bathroom, but he followed you. He was so proud of you. With your confession, you gave him permission to stop hiding from you, too.

“June 17th is when we,” Javi clears his throat and shifts in his seat, “started a sexual relationship.”

“And you’ve been seeing each other since then?”

“Correct.”

“And she broke things off with Daniel Baker today?”

“Not yet, technically. She was moving in with me today, and we were- she was going to leave a note breaking things off with him. It wasn’t safe for her to do it in person. Obviously.”

“It wasn’t safe for her to do it in person,” Anderson repeats Javier’s words, then asks, “Could you explain that more?”

“Last Saturday, I witnessed Dan physically and sexually assaulting her. Dan’s sister, Kimberley Baker and the victim’s friend, Claudia Klitzke, were also witnesses to this incident,” Javier pulls out a pack of cigarettes and raises an eyebrow, “Do you mind?”

Anderson shakes his head, so Javi lights one and takes a drag, pulling a nearby ashtray closer. He continues, “She specifically stated that she did not want him to touch her and he disregarded this statement. He suggested sexual intercourse, to which she declined, then he dragged her across a patio with the intent to seclude her and force her into sexual intercourse. Thankfully, we were able to intervene before he secluded her.

“This May, he coerced her into quitting her job as an elementary school teacher, then had her close her bank accounts and sign over her life’s savings to him. She doesn’t have access to these funds,” he takes a long, sizzling drag, then speaks through an exhale of blue smoke as his nostrils flare, “This past Sunday, in retaliation for not letting him rape her, he disposed of her cat. I’ve personally witnessed him verbally abusing her on multiple occasions. Mid-July, he sexually assaulted her, forcing his dick down her throat. Shall I continue or do you understand why it wasn’t safe for her to confront him in person about this?”

“I think I am understanding,” Anderson concedes with an arched brow at Javi's hostility, “What happened today?”

“Last night I helped her pack her things at their house. He has softball every Wednesday night here in San Antonio, so we assumed it would be a safe time to do this-“

“Do you know which softball team, or anyone on the team?”

“No. His family might,” Javi answers, then continues previous thought, “This morning we found he had hidden cameras around the house. The assumption we made is that he had the footage uploaded to his office at work.”

“LPD were able to locate all the cameras and they’re obtaining a warrant for his work computer at currently,” Anderson advises coolly.

“Good. I don’t want any of the footage to leak. It… it’s very private,” Javier meets Anderson’s eyes and the look they share says the unspoken words: it’s porn. Javi clears his throat, then continues, “I don’t know how he knew to find her here-“

“GPS tracking,” the detective explains.

Javi nods and hums in acknowledgement, “I see. I- I asked her to come here, assuming that the first place Dan would go is to my house.”

“Makes sense.”

“Is LPD at Dan’s house still?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a red shoe box in the office closet that contains, what appeared to be, a fake passport with Dan’s picture,” Javi takes another drag, then extinguishes his cigarette in the ashtray, “On my way here, I was thinking about where he could have brought her. Dan and I have mutual friends with a man named Greg Walker. He’s a realtor, might have empty properties he’s mentioned to Dan. I can give him a call and see if he’s able to give any information.”

“That’s very helpful, Mr. Peña, thank you.”

“I don’t know if Maria back at the precinct explained this to you or not, but I’m former DEA. I was in Columbia for a decade and was on the team that took down Escobar and The Cali Cartel,” he runs a hand through his hair, slightly uncomfortable name dropping monsters to this detective in order to gain credibility, but continues anyway, “I’m here to help in any way I can. And I- I love this woman, I want to bring her home.”

“We are more than willing to work with you in this investigation,” Anderson taps his fingers against the table, then leans forward and draws his eyebrows together as he meets Javi’s gaze, “There’s one thing that LPD found that I wanted to ask you about.”

Javier nods, signaling for the detective to continue.

“They found two positive pregnancy tests and the empty box they came in inside the bathroom garbage. Do you know if she’s pregnant?”

His mouth falls open, gaping at the detective. He can hear blood whooshing in his ears as he processes this information.

“I have to tell you something.”

“Baby, we have to go-“

You were trying to tell him. His lungs deflate and he utters the only word he can think at the moment, “Fuck.”

[ Next Chapter ]

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Built to Spill, Prism Bitch, & Itchy Kitty Live Show Review: 5/4, Thalia Hall, Chicago

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Ask Built to Spill fans why they love the band, and you’ll likely get a wide variety of answers, ranging from their dreamy themes to their earnest moods and stories. Ask this Built to Spill fan why he loves to see the band live, and it’s because Doug Martsch is a bona fide guitar hero. Plus, this current incantation of the band--with bopping, limber bassist Melanie Radford and mighty drummer Teresa Esguerra--is arguably the tightest Built to Spill has ever been. Thursday night at Thalia Hall, it was Esguerra’s birthday, and she played double duty, also in openers Prism Bitch. But the celebration was about more than just the calendar year. It was a tribute to Built to Spill’s most recent album When The Wind Forgets Your Name (Sub Pop), their finest in years, and the endurance of their back catalog among followers new and old.

Built to Spill always amazes me with how much sound they can get out of three people: with Martsch, Radford, and Esguerra, they delivered shredding intros, extended jams, and even some surf rock choogles. They entered the stage to Rush’s “Tom Sawyer”, and then proceeded to--wait for it--play a couple minutes of the song, instrumental, before traditionally opening with their own trademark epic, “Goin’ Against Your Mind”. I’d like to believe that in an alternate universe, Built to Spill is regarded as musically limber as the Canadian prog rockers, just as much as Martsch is regarded as a quintessential Pacific Northwest storyteller. When covering Heartless Bastards’ “The Mountain”, Radford took lead vocals, a dead ringer for Erika Wennerstrom, which answered the question you never knew you need the answer to, “What if Heartless Bastards had Doug Martsch on lead guitar?” Her sneaky lines on “Center of the Universe” and vocal harmonies on unreleased jangle pop ditty “Fire To Dust” made you wish Martsch would break his rotation and just keep her as a full-time member.

Of course, Esguerra proved to be more than versatile, her time-keeping centering Built to Spill and her mammoth fills propelling Albuquerque's Prism Bitch. Dressed like pilots and flight attendants, the latter started out with vibrant, synth-heavy pop from their most recent record PERLA. The democratically laid out four-piece saw guitarist/keyboard player Lilah Rose taking lead vocals on most songs but with bassist Lauren Poole in harmony, guitarist Tris Walsh slowly adding burning, creepy, sludgy, and psychedelic riffs to the fold on their punkier, older songs like “You Got I Want”. Best, they blasted through the supremely catchy, weeks-old “Woman” with aplomb, their hooks increasingly demanding of larger crowds and stadiums.

The most abrasive was Spokane’s Itchy Kitty, their unique combination of yelped punk and wiry goth-glam priming the audience for a night of genre-hopping rock and roll. The Osees-like squeal affects on guitarist Catman’s licks effectively matched the wails of guitarist/singer Ami Elston and bassist Naomi Eisenbrey on songs like “Coca-Cola Snakes”, “That Was My Dinner” and their irreverent “Psycho Killer” cover. Drummer Michael (Sug) Tschirgi chugged away as the rest, especially Elston, convulsed like feline versions of Ian Curtis. If Built to Spill and Prism Bitch were wound, Itchy Kitty was the ultimate expression of unbridled performance.

#live music #built to spill #prism bitch #itchy kitty #thalia hall #melanie radford #lilah rose #lauren poole #sub pop #when the wind forgets your name #doug martsch #teresa esguerra #rush #heartless bastards #erika wennerstrom #perla #tris walsh #osees #catman #ami elston #naomi eisenbrey #michael (sug) tschirgi #ian curtis

[krawdad]

It still hits me as absolutely bizarre that someone would agree to pick up the torch of a series they themselves are most likely big fans of, without contacting or discussing it in any way with the original creators. Who are like. Entirely available. Eager to participate, even.

Like

I guess it makes sense to me now how their sense of humor might hit me in a vaguely abrasive way.

#it was abrasive before i knew it was new people for the record. #i had no idea #I intentionally avoided learning things about it when I heard it was happening #i just expected it to be like. more than i was willing to feel things about. #and heyy i was right holy shit #thank you past me you saved me however long it was that i didn't have to stew thinking about it #the old guys are willing to do stuff i fucking saw them in person together doing the music it was a lot of fun #now i bet that fan community is going to schism #as they do #being a fan of stuff sure seems like more trouble than it's worth for me #but then my reward center has been fucky for lord knows how long so #like part of me is curious to see if it gets better but most of me is too exhausted to give a shit #i can't respect this series on a fundamental level #a laugh here and there doesn't seem like it's worth the emotions I'd probably also be going through #i want to have fun when i watch cartoons #i want to be entertained by my entertainment

[reidandweep]

Stitching

Spencer Reid x Reader (female)

A/N- Much like Adam Driver, I have been a huge fan of Matthew Gray Gubler and criminal minds for years. With quarantine, I decided to re-watch the show from the beginning and I had some inspiration. My writing tends to take a while but if you have any requests or idea for Spencer Reid, please send them my way.

Word Count- 6286 words

Warning- Angst, mentions of violence and torture, fluff, tears, and the usual criminal minds details.

If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge? -William Shakespeare.

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

“Good morning my lover and friends. As of 8:45 am, yesterday morning, four bodies have been found across the Washington State area. Locations confirmed to be Pomeroy, Baker City, Salem, and Mill Creek. All victims were very similar in physical appearance; Caucasian, red hair, brown eyes, approximately 5ft 4’.”

Garcia swiped her tablet to display family photographs of the victims on the screen. The team watched, in the debriefing room, as they scanned through their own tablets; reading through the details. Spencer’s eyes flittered over the images as his fingers scanned across the words in his paper file; still adamant on not working with technology like the rest of his team.

“What about the cause of death? How were they found?”

Garcia shivered at Rossi’s question.

“It’s not a pretty image. Each victim was dismembered at the elbows, knees, neck, and stomach. Further cuts were made vertically down the stomach and across the face, arms, and legs. Not deep enough to cut through bone, but deep enough to bleed out. Where the unsub cut our victims, he then sewed them back together.”

Emily looked up at Garcia.

“Are you saying the lacerations were made before the victim’s died?”

“Precisely. Each autopsy report came back the same with the cause of death pointing to the direction of blood loss; specifically, from the throat.”

The team looked at the new images before them. Multiple pictures appeared on the screen, showing the bodies of the victims. The pictures showing the women laid out in the same pose, thick thread holding together the pieces of their corpses. All had their eyes closed, except one.

“Garcia, the last victim, zoom into her face.”

Garcia did as Spencer asked.

“Her eyes are closed.”

Spencer nodded, glancing towards JJ as she spoke.

“Meaning that he felt remorse for this murder.”

Derek scrolled through the pictures on his tablet.

“The other three victim’s eyes are open, indicating that he wanted them to look. To watch what he was doing, whatever it may have been.”

Spencer looked across the table at the questioning faces.

“So, what changed between the third and the fourth victim?”

Hotch stood from his seat, indicating the others to grab their belonging.

“We can discuss further on jet. Wheels up in thirty.”

WASHINGTON STATE

Being greeted by the local police department in Clagstone, Spencer and the team began their investigation into the murders. Spencer did not know what it was, but the stitching on the bodies felt familiar. Like he had seen them before.

Looking up from his files, Spencer watched as Derek walked into the room, ending a call with who he could only presume to be Garcia.

“Garcia has just completed background checks on our latest victim. Lily Trent visited local film screenings at the Southview Centre religiously, to watch horror movies in particular. Seems like the girl loved anything horror and Halloween; according to her roommate and her computer history. It seems that are other victims did also.”

Spencer stood from his seat and walked towards the whiteboard at the back of the room. Writing down the details Derek stated, his brain began to filter through the relevant information needed.

“Halloween is ranked the ninth most celebrated holiday in the world. With different interpretations of the holiday occurring according to country and culture. Wearing costumes at Halloween did not even become an occurrence until 1585, with the first instance recorded in Scotland.”

Derek chuckled at Reid’s excitement. He knew the boy loved Halloween.

“Well it all looks like they were pretty huge fans of the holiday and horror films. Maybe our unsub was too.”

Spencer looked down at the photos in his hand, scanning his memory for any correlation.

“Maybe, it’s not just horror, but a particular film. If all the victims were presented in a certain way, maybe the unsub is trying to replicate what happened to a character in a particular film.”

Derek crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’ll call Garcia to search through all the victims search history to see if any particular horror films come up in each one. Do you know of any films that the unsub could have replicated?”

Spencer shook his head.

“I can collate his actions to hundreds of films but, the method of torture and look of the victims, I can’t think of one horror feature that pinpoints all that the unsub has done.”

A thought unexpectedly popped into Spencer’s mind. Derek cocked his head at the sudden halt from the resident genius.

“But I know someone who might.”

UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON

“The importance of genre in film alters many of the other aspects. The characters and their narrative arcs, the music score, cinematography, the edit, and so much more. Sometimes genre even dictates the director who signs onto the project. Dennis Dugan would not have a directing career if Adam Sandler stopped making comedy movies. Because that is what he directs. He doesn’t direct comedies; he directs Adam Sandler comedies. Which, in my opinion, are a whole genre on their own.”

The class chuckled.

“Genre plays a part in everyday life. Sometimes, your day will be led by romance, or grief, or action. There may be drama, or comedy, or even silence.”

The class looked on in concentration as Y/N walked across the floor. If someone who did not attend the college walked past the classroom, they could’ve presumed that she was a student. She looked young enough.

“It controls the way the characters talk, act, and move. How the plot thickens and pushes forward and…”

The doors at the back of the auditorium opened. Y/N looked up at the sound of the intrusion to see figures that she could not recognise, and one that she did.

Clearing her throat, she continued.

“And how it even ends. We shall leave it at that today. What I want you to do in the meantime is research a genre in particular and come up with examples that counteract the stereotypes that have been enforced upon the genre itself. Hand it in to your professor first thing Monday morning. Thank you.”

Y/N watched as the students collected their things and filtered out of the room. The figures waiting till she was only left before they walked down the steps.

Coming to a stop in front of her desk, Y/N crossed her arms and waited. Spencer stepped forward with a crooked smile on his face.

“Hi Y/N.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle.

“Long time no see stranger.”

Spencer’s cheeks burned at Y/N’s words. The team shared looks between them at the unfamiliar display. They had seen Spencer blush at people before, but not for a long time.

Spencer cleared his throat, preparing himself to act professional.

“This is Dr Y/F/N Y/L/N. Y/N travels across the country to guest speak at different universities on her topic at hand. She specialises in film studies, more importantly the focus of characters and genres. If I can’t connect the unsub’s actions to a film, Y/N most definitely can.”

Y/N smiled at Spencer’s praise.

“Nice to meet you all. So, what are you here to talk to me about Doc? Obviously, you’re here on a case and if you are asking for my help, I’m guessing it’s going to be pretty gruesome.”

Spencer blushed at the nickname; caught off guard by the word slipping of her tongue.

Sending a raised look towards Reid, Hotch began to explain why they were there.

“Were looking into a case of connected murders. All victims were found to have been mutilated and tortured in the same way. As well as showing resemblances in their physical appearances. With research, we’ve found that each victim was particularly fond of horror films and Halloween. We would just like for you to take a look and see if you could recognise if the ways in which they were harmed stemmed from a film in particular.”

Y/N nodded her head.

“Of course, anything to help.”

She reached for the files from Spencer’s hands, ignoring the tablet pushed in her direction by JJ.

“Sorry, I prefer to use paper. I only really use technology for my lectures or to watch films if they cannot be purchased in physical form.”

Derek smirked, shooting looks to his team, as his eyes landed on Spencer. He never thought he would meet a technophobe like Reid.

Y/N scanned through the pictures and documents, looking in detail at the lacerations at hand. She identified the similarities between the victims, as her mind swirled through the images and characters from the films, she knew held similarities.

“What were the names of all the victims?”

Emily looked towards the woman.

“That information is classified.”

Y/N did not blink at her abrasiveness.

“Were any of them called Sally?”

The team looked perplexed at her question.

“No. Why that name in particular?”

Y/N continued to scan the pages as Rossi questioned her.

“Because the unsub isn’t replicating anything from a horror movie. The unsub is replicating the physical appearance and staging of a character from an animated movie. A Disney one to be more specific.”

A light bulb flickered in Spencer’s mind as he stared at Y/N in realisation. The hair colours. The stitches. It made sense now.

“The Nightmare Before Christmas.”

LOCAL POLICE DEPARTMENT

“The Nightmare Before Christmas is a 1993 American stop-motion animated musical Halloween-Christmas fantasy film directed by Henry Selick and produced and conceived by Tim Burton. It became a cult classic during the early 2000s with orchestral concerts occurring every year to celebrate the spectacle of the film.”

Spencer indicated for JJ to change the monitor as he and Y/N stood in front of the team to explain the information.

“Originally, the story began as a poem written by Tim Burton. Both narratives follow the protagonist, Jack Skellington, into his journey to Christmastown, and how he tries to make Christmas his own. The character in question that your unsub is replicating is the love interest of our protagonist. Created by Dr Finkelstein, Sally is a ragdoll-esque character whose body is covered with stitches to keep her together. The form in which all the women were found is identical to this scene in the movie.”

The screen changes to show the scene in question; paused at the precise moment to prover her point.

“All red haired, all Caucasian, all eerily the same. The stitches are exactly the same and the pose in which they are in the pictures are also.”

“We now know which film our unsub is mimicking, but how can we produce a distinguished profile of our unsub? All we can say is that between his third and fourth victim, he suddenly began to feel remorseful of his crimes.”

Y/N looked towards Spencer, waiting for him to speak as he knew more details about the case.

“Garcia checked into the victim’s computer histories and found that all four victims attended a horror convention in the Washington state area over the course of the past month. The convention in particular runs every other weekend, focusing on different horror films to highlight. However, they always make an exception for one film; The Nightmare Before Christmas. Whilst reviewing receipts for the tickets, they were all brought through the convention’s website, which is run by its board of organisation every year. Up until recently, the board has held the same members.”

Derek tapped on his tablet to the convention’s website.

“Last month, the website released details stating that a distinguish member was no longer part of the board due to unforeseen circumstances.”

It suddenly dawned on Y/N who Derek was talking about.

“Dean Faulkner.”

Spencer whipped around towards Y/N.

All eyes laid on her as her breath increased.

“You know him?”

Y/N nodded at Hotch.

“I guest spoke at a panel with him a few years back at a separate university. We were both there, amongst others, to talk about the works of a genre that are expertise were in. I was there to basically provide loose ends for what they could not answer. Dean’s specialised area was horror. The whole time he spoke about what he described as the true villains of horror and of the world.”

Y/N gulped, her mouth going dry.

“Women.”

The wheels began to turn in the team’s heads.

Spencer stepped closer towards Y/N in assurance, seeing that her thoughts were becoming overwhelmed. He quickly stepped back after he realised what he had done.

“He went on a raging tangent about the damsel in distress and the final girl. Going on and on and on about how women are weak and would never be the last one standing if faced against the monsters in real life. How they manipulated the men and made the monsters seem worse than they truly were. The only time he spoke positively about women was when we finally calmed him down and, during a Q&A session, a student asked him who the perfect horror movie character was. He said Sally because she was forgiving and would do anything for Jack; even if that meant falling apart and being sewn back together. I tried to justify that the film does not necessarily fall into the genre of horror. But he rebutted saying that it most definitely did, because of the fact that Jack’s dream did not come true.”

The room was silent for a second, taking in the information.

Suddenly, Y/N grasped the pen from Spencer’s hands. Her finger scribbling across the whiteboard.

“I need to know the names of the victims. Get Penelope on the phone and tell me the names.”

The team shocked at her erratic movements, sat in silence.

“Do you want to capture this guy?”

Spencer licked his lips and repeated the victim’s names.

“Susanna Cole, Alice Dawes, Liberty May, and Lily Trent.”

Y/N swiftly wrote the names on the boards. Each name below the other. Underneath the last name she wrote the letter Y.

“Can you ask Penelope to track any females with the first name beginning with Y who have purchased a ticket to the next convention?”

Derek quickly began to type to her. The rest of the team looking on in disbelief.

“There were twenty-three purchases, but with cross referencing with the similarities in the other victims, one matched. Her name is Yasmine Driver.”

Y/N wrote the name on the board. Circling all the first letters of each name, it became clear there was another connection with the victims.

“Their initials spell Sally.”

Y/N nodded at JJ’s disbelief.

“Reid, when is the next convention being held?”

Spencer diverted his attention to Emily.

“Their schedule every two weeks, so that would make it… tomorrow.”

The team swiftly moved into action.

“JJ bring together the police force for a debrief. Derek and Rossi, go to the convention centre and question the board about Dean. Ask them how often he visited and if they have any knowledge of the victims visits to the convention. Spencer and Emily, contact Penelope for Faulkner’s address. Once you have visited the home, if he is there, bring him in. We’re going to try and catch him before he gets close to his goal. I will locate Yasmine and bring her to the station for safety. We don’t know how far he is going to go and what the end goal of his fantasy is. But we are going to stop him.”

The team swiftly did as they were told, leaving the room with only Spencer and Y/N behind. Just before the door shot, Hotch leaned back in.

“Thank you, Dr Y/L/N, for all your help. If possible, could you stay here with JJ and look through the documents? You know this guy more than we do, so any more information that comes to mind, please let us know.”

Y/N and Spencer watched as Hotch left the room, the door shutting behind him.

As the silence engulfed them, Y/N and Spencer were hyper aware that they were now alone and had been for the first time in weeks.

Spencer swiftly walked towards Y/N and embraced her in a tight hold. Wrapping her arms around the slender man, Y/N breathed in his scent.

“I’ve missed you.”

Y/N chuckled at Spencer’s muffled words, as his head rested on top of her own. Pulling back, Y/N slowly released Spencer, letting her hands drop to her sides.

“I’ve missed you too Doc. We can catch up later, I will be waiting right here. Now, go and save the girl.”

Spencer chuckled at her words but did as Y/N said. Throwing her a smile, Spencer quickly walked out the room, leaving Y/N behind.

Y/N sat in the room, looking over the files as the time passed, waiting to see Spencer return with the rest of the team. A knock on the door startled her from her search.

Looking up at the door, Y/N saw JJ walk into the room with two cups of coffee in her hands. JJ outstretched the one hand, placing the cup in front of Y/N, as she took a seat and began to sip at her own.

“I didn’t know how many sugars you took so I estimated.”

Y/N smiled at the woman’s kindness.

“Thank you. Have you heard anything from the others?”

JJ sat up in her seat as she watched Y/N look over the documents. Her fingers moving across the pages ever so quickly. Her hand that wasn’t tapped continuously on the table in a rhythm.

“Spencer and Emily located Faulkner’s home, but it was vacant. They’re looking around the premises for clues for where he may be; as we speak. Hotch and Derek just called saying they are on their way down with Yasmine now.”

Y/N nodded at her words. Glad to hear that the girl was safe, but the main priority now would be to locate Faulkner. She wanted to truly help them, before anyone else could get hurt.

JJ grabbed her tablet and began to search through the files for any missed out information. Silence befell across the pair, until JJ could not help but ask what they had all been dying to know.

“How did you and Spencer meet?”

Y/N had been waiting for the question. She had seen the looks the team had shared throughout the day. The questioning gazes towards the pair.

“Spencer and I were both guests speaking at the University of California a few months ago. He must have finished his lecture early as he was wondering the halls when he came across the class I was teaching. I was stood on the desk, encouraging the students to do the same. Spencer thought I was a student causing trouble whilst the professor had left the room. He ran in sprouting facts about the percentage of people who fall and severely hurt themselves whilst standing on tables. Telling me that I should get down before he reports me to my professor.”

JJ chuckled at Y/N’s story.

“Sounds like Spence alright.”

Y/N giggled in agreement. As she spoke, Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the memory of their first encounter. JJ noticed the smile on the woman’s face. She knew what that smile meant.

“So, I told him that he better stay there to catch me, just in case I fell, as I was trying to teach my students about the importance of character actions, and how doing something as simple as standing on a desk can amplify the tone of the scene. Like in the film Dead Poet’s Society. Spencer finally realised that I was also a guest speaker and he actually stood there for the next 40 minutes of my lecture. I didn’t need to stand on the desk that long, but I wanted to see if he would stay. Once the lecture had finished, he apologised for jumping to conclusions. I apologised for making him wait for 40 minutes in case I fell. He told me I didn’t make him wait; he chose to. We’ve been in contact ever since.”

Just as Y/N finished her story, the door to the conference room opened once more. Looking towards the door, Y/N watched as Hotch entered, followed by Yasmine. The young woman looked scared, but unharmed.

Y/N stood from her seat, unsure of what to do as Hotch insisted for Yasmine to take a seat.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Hotch nodded his head.

“We shouldn’t be long. The rest of the team are outside in the bullpen. You can go ahead and join them. JJ and I will take it from here.”

Y/N nodded her head, leaving the room. She watched as Hotch and JJ questioned spoke to Yasmine through the glass, before she turned and walked down the corridor to find Spencer and his friends.

Turning the corner, Y/N failed to stop herself before bumping into a tall figure. Looking up to apologise, her eyes suddenly widened at the familiar face. Before a sound could leave her lips, a blunt force knocked her out cold.

Spencer and the team discussed where Faulkner could be when Hotch strode into the bull pen.

“How did it go?”

Hotch walked towards his team, ready to answer Derek’s question.

“It seems that Faulkner had been stalking the victims for some time. Yasmine detailed seeing him turn up at the conventions, even though he was no longer allowed. She had previously complained about his behaviour to the board before his dismissal. Stating that Faulkner had sexually harassed her. Rossi, did anyone at the convention mention anything about Faulkner that we don’t know?”

“It seems that Yasmine wasn’t the only one. The other board members went into detail about why he was fired. It turned out that all of our victims, including Yasmine, had filed lawsuits against Faulkner for sexual harassment. The charges were ultimately dropped and never recorded to keep the convention’s reputation clear. But they fired Faulkner and banned him from being able to attend any further conventions. Taking away the Nightmare Before Christmas dedicated stand was just a coincidence. They felt that the convention needed something new as they had been celebrating the film for over eight years.”

Just as Hotch was about to declare what the next step would be in finding Faulkner, JJ burst through the ball pen.

“Guys, you have to come quick.”

The team, in shock, watched as JJ ran back towards the conference room. All quickly on her heels. Entering the room, she took control of the laptop, streaming the image to the projector.

Spencer could no longer breathe as he looked at the image on the screen.

“Y/N.”

The screen showed Y/N tied to a chair and bent forward; clearly in pain. Her surroundings empty and dark.

Suddenly a voice was heard.

“I sense there's something in the wind. That seems like tragedy's at hand isn’t there Dr Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

The team watched in horror as Dean Faulkner yanked Y/N’s head back, her body letting out a strangled cry at the pain caused by his actions.

Spencer felt sick, he felt like he was watching himself when Tobias Hankel had held him captive.

“Emily, call Garcia to track his location. We don’t have much time.”

Emily did as Hotch told her to. Talking as quickly as she could on the phone.

“She can’t track it; he’s re-routing the IP address every thirty seconds.”

“She needs to track it. She needs to find her now!”

They all jumped at Spencer’s outburst, watching as tears filled his vision and his hands began to shake.

“Spencer, you need to calm down, we are going to find her. He can’t have taken her far.”

Spencer took in Derek’s words. Taking a breath, he looked back at the screen as he tried to distinguish any recognisable features of where she may be.

Faulkner moved his face to rest against Y/N’s hair, smelling the tresses. She tried to pull away only for him to yank her back again.

“Why did you kill them Dean?”

Faulkner let go of Y/N’s hair. Walking to her side, he grabbed her face in a vicious grip. Yanking her to look at him.

“Why? They ruined my life, everything I ever worked hard for. You all did.”

Y/N looked at him in confusion.

“I did nothing to you.”

Y/N’s breath increased at the vicious look he sent her way. Her eyes flickered to the camera, knowing that Faulkner was streaming what was happening to Spencer and his team. She had to find a way to tell them where she was.

“You made them question my authority. My position. My integrity as a member of the board. You ruined my reputation by belittling me in California.”.

“That’s because you know nothing about horror Dean. You think you know everything about it, but you don’t.”

Spencer couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why was Y/N taunting him?

“Garcia’s looking to see if there’s any abandoned properties around the area that he could have taken her to.”

Spencer didn’t even acknowledge Emily’s words.

Faulkner reeled back at Y/N’s taunt.

“I know everything there is to know about horror. I’ve seen it all. I’ve lived it. I’ve created it. Ask me anything about it, I know the right answers.”

“But you don’t. You have an idea of horror, your own idea, that is wrong. You believe that women are the reason you lost your job and became the monster that you are. But they’re not. The reason you’re a monster is because of your sick and twisted fantasies. You made those girls feel small and weak, didn’t you?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The team watched in apprehension.

“Garcia, the location, we need it now.”

Rossi looked between the screen and the phone in Derek’s hand.

“I can get the area he’s holding her, but not the specific building. The whole town is basically abandoned. She could be anywhere from a shop to a house.”

“Keep looking.”

Spencer chewed on his lips. He had to think rationally. If the unsub was upset about the changes and losing his job, what could have been the last straw?

“Derek what was the film they replaced Nightmare Before Christmas with at the convention.”

Derek and Spencer shared a look.

“Cabin in the Woods.”

Spencer ran across the rooms to the files at hand.

“In the location that Garcia has tracked her too, there are three cabins, all within a walking distance of the other.”

The team began to rush out the room, transferring the livestream to a tablet so they could monitor Faulkner and Y/N.

“You’re weak Dean. You’re just like all the horror movie villains. Ghostface, pinhead, jigsaw, all of them. You feed of fear and feeling in control. But the only thing you have in common with them is that you’re not going to win.”

Faulkner scream in rage. Pulling Y/N’s head back, he punched her in the jaw. Striding to the camera, he pushed his face to the lens.

“The party’s over!”

Spencer watched in horror as the feed went off.

“Hotch we have to hurry!”

Hotch sped up the car. Quickly arriving to the location, the team split up into pairs, taking a cabin each to inspect. Hotch and Derek, Rossi and JJ, and Spencer and Emily veered off to their targeted locations. Spencer followed Emily, trying to stay calm, as he slowly walked into the cabin to find it empty, when suddenly a gun shot was heard. Looking in the direction, the pair ran to the cabin that Derek and Hotch had been assigned. The rest of the team already there, looking into the cabin in shock.

“No, no, no, no. Y/N.”

Spencer pushed in front of them, tears pooling in his eyes as he a waited to see the horror before him. He looked in disbelief as Y/N stood from her position on the floor, the gun dropping from her hand as they shook. Faulkner laid a few feet away, in a pool of blood, no longer breathing.

Y/N looked towards the team. Raising her shaking hands towards Spencer.

“I didn’t want to kill him but he was going to shoot whoever walked through the door.”

Spencer rushed forward, grabbing her in a bone crushing hug. His hands stroking her hair as he soother her cries. Leading her out of the cabin, he allowed his team to sort out the rest as he continued to calm Y/N down.

The movement of the team were a blur as ambulances and police cars came. Taking them to the hospital as they sat in the waiting room as Y/N was checked over.

Spencer sat in the waiting room, his leg bouncing up and down with nerves.

Derek excused himself from the groups conversation as he went and sat next to Spencer. Clapping him on the back, Derek squeezed Spencer’s shoulder in re-assurance.

“She’s going to be fine pretty boy.”

“Physically, she has a concussion, bruising along her jawline, and needs stitches on her forehead. Mentally, I don’t know how she is going to handle this. When I suggested asking for her help in the case, I didn’t presume the risk of her being hurt. I should have.”

“Spencer, listen to me. We would have done everything to make sure she lived okay. She not only saved herself but she also helped save Yasmine and this team. Any one of us could have been shot if she had not thought fast and got the gun out of his hands. You know, better than anyone, how to help her deal with this.”

Spencer took in Derek’s words, nodding his head in appreciation, as he leaned against his friend in a comforting hug.

“Probably wasn’t the ideal way to introduce your girlfriend to the team though.”

Spencer stuttered at Derek’s teasing.

“We’re profilers Spencer. We’ve all noticed how you’ve been happier these past few months and seeing how persistent you were for us to consult Y/N, it gave us all an idea why. Seeing you together only confirmed our suspicions. So, how long has pretty boy had his pretty girl?”

Spencer chuckled at Derek’s words. Ringing his hands together as he spoke to Derek.

“Tomorrow is actually our six-month anniversary. She was going to be flying back today so we could celebrate; unless I got called on a case.”

“We can still celebrate.”

Spencer looked up as Y/N walked through the waiting room, fresh stitches on her forehead and an ice pack resting in her hands.

“The nurse said that there was no internal damage. That my body will just be sore for a few weeks. My concussion is light, so I am alright to travel home.”

The team gathered around to check on her. But her eyes could not leave Spencer’s as he rose from his seat. Spencer walked forward slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. Carefully he cupped her face in his hands, and to the surprise of Y/N and his team, Spencer bowed his head and placed a careful kiss on Y/N’s lips. Slow, protective, and full of love.

Pulling back, Spencer wrapped his arms around her as he looked at the beaming smiles of his teammates. Y/N couldn’t help the blush across her cheeks or the giggle that followed. Soon, everyone was chuckling at the pair.

“I would like to thank you Y/N. From the entire team. Your actions saved a young woman’s life, and what could have been one of our own.”

Y/N smiled in appreciation at Rossi’s words.

“You’re Spencer’s family. I would do it all again if I had to.”

“Statistically speaking, around 2,000 people a day are reported missing in the US. Approximately, 600 of those would be reported or considered kidnappings. It is highly unlikely for you to be put in a situation like that again.”

Y/N looked up at her boyfriend.

“I never thought I would say this, but your talk about me being kidnapped again is really attractive.”

The team laughed at the girl’s statement, seeing Spencer become physically embarrassed.

“Just to inform everyone, the jet will be ready to depart in forty-five minutes. As I was informed that today you would have been heading home, Y/N we have sent for your belongings to be collected; you can fly back with us.”

Spencer smiled at Hotch in gratitude, the older man knowing he would have only worried if she had flown home alone.

“Thank you, Mr Hotchner.”

Hotch let out a brief smile.

“Call me Hotch. Your part of Spencer’s life, that means your part of this family.”

BAU JET

It had been an exhausting few days for the team, and it showed, as they all were sporadically asleep throughout the jet. Silence encompassed the steel capsule, with only the sound of sleep filled breaths being heard.

Y/N laid fast asleep, with her head on Spencer’s shoulder, as the boy genius sat up wide awake. Looking down at the woman next to him, all Spencer could imagine was what could have happened if they weren’t quick enough. How many days he would have lost with her. All the things he wanted to tell her.

As though she could sense his deep thoughts, Y/N slowly awoke, rubbing her eyes as a yawn escaped her mouth. Blinking her eyes rapidly, she waited till she was fully conscious before she spoke.

“What time is it Doc?”

Spencer jostled out of his thoughts to check the watch on his wrist.

“It’s 2:36 am. You’ve been asleep for approximately 3 hours and 22 minutes.”

Y/N quickly sat up in her seat, wide awake.

Spencer turned towards her in worry, wondering what had made her so alert.

“What wrong? Are you feeling nauseous? Do you need some painkillers, as your due to have…”

Y/N grabbed Spencer’s face and placed her lips flush against his own. Their mouths moved in unison, as Spencer’s own hands moved to circle around her waist, bringing their bodies as close as they could be in the small space they had. They hadn’t kissed since the hospital, and before then it had been weeks. Spencer never realised until then, how much he truly missed her touch, her taste, her as a whole.

Coming to a point where they both lacked breathe, the pair pulled apart. Their eyes fluttering open as Y/N’s hands caressed Spencer’s face. Her one hand travelled to his hair, feeling the tresses that had grown since she had last seen him. She looked at him in a way no one had before. Spencer shared the same expression.

“Happy six-month anniversary Spencer. I love you.”

Spencer looked at Y/N in disbelief.

“Before you start spouting of facts about transference and how I am probably only saying this because you saved my life, you’re wrong. Because then I would be telling Hotch and Morgan the same thing.”

Spencer couldn’t help the watery smile that graced his face. For the second time in the past day, his eyes filled with tears. But this time, they were good.

“I’ve known I have loved you for a long time. For five months actually. I knew I loved you when we made pizza in your apartment and we ended up burning it, so we ordered one instead.”

Spencer laughed at the memory. It was the first time Spencer had initiated their make out. He had watched her cooking, in his apartment, and he had never found her more attractive than he did seeing her in his home.

“I knew that whilst you were spouting of facts about the invention of the pizza that I loved you and that I could listen to you forever. I love you Spencer.”

Spencer pulled Y/N closer to him as he rested his forehead against her own. The pair basked in each other’s presence.

“Past surveys show that men wait just 88 days to say those three little words to their partner for the first time, and 39 percent say them within the first month. Women, on the other hand, take an average 134 days. You knew after 31 days that you loved me. I knew after our first date that the way I felt when I was with you is a feeling that I could not even describe with my vast vocabulary. I knew after 8 days that the way I felt was stronger than liking you and that was a frightening thought. But its scarier to think what could have happened to you yesterday. That I could have lost you without you ever knowing. I made that mistake before. I will never make it again. I love you too.”

Y/N couldn’t help the smile and giggle that overtook her. Spencer, feeling high of the serotonin that was coursing through his body, couldn’t help his laugh either. Soon the pair were a giggling mess, unaware of the team who had all begun to awaken whilst the pair were talking.

The team congregated to the back of the jet, allowing the couple to stay in their own bubble.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen him truly happy.”

The group nodded at Emily’s words.

JJ smiled as she watched her best friend rattle of the possible movies that he and his girlfriend could spend their anniversary watching as she recovered. Her smile growing even wider at Y/N’s enthusiasm to watch the film’s in their original language. None of them could miss the look of adoration beaming between the pair.

“Yeah, it really has.”

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. -Lao Tzu

A/N- It isn’t the best but I really enjoyed writing this one.

#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler imagine #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagines

[kdinjenzen]

I've been wondering for a while, did CRWBY know about your interest in Robin Hood when creating the huntresses/casting you, or was it just the most serendipitous coincidence?

I’ve talked about this before! The answer is... it was a complete coincidence. A happy one! But a complete coincidence.

I usually am someone who, and I say this to my partner a lot, find myself as “A Fandom Of One.” My interests are mine and mine alone. The more people involved the messier things could get and I really didn’t enjoy the idea of losing something I loved because of someone else.

And... actually I kept a lot of myself to uh... myself. Not just enjoyment but everything.

Coming out was scary and I ended up closing myself off more in a lot of ways that only ended up hurting me.

You all see me as someone who is really open and out there but... I wasn’t always like that. I was too afraid to be me even after I finally said to the world who I was.

When I saw the casting call I was super excited to see the characters I loved come to life in a new way but I had decided I was not in the mindset to audition for a lot of reasons... 

I actually don’t think I’ve talked about this part much, actually.

The biggest reason was that I was deciding on if I should give up doing VO entirely because hey being trans and working in the entertainment industry is not easy and sucks and people don’t take you seriously and... none of that has really changed.

After years of “You don’t sound like a woman” or “we just don’t know how to cast people like you” or “it wouldn’t be right having you voice a guy since you identify as a female” etc ... I just... I couldn’t keep it up. It was hurting me so much that I began to feel less and less, I dunno, human in the eyes of the people around me.

(Note: None of these things came from RT, it was all from projects unrelated to RT.)

But because of that I had lost all confidence in my voice, in myself entirely actually, and was talking with several people close to me (and a therapist) about finally giving up on the dream and just finding... something else, anything else, as a distraction from it... or just burying my head in the sand and doing the day-to-day and nothing more.

I was done. Completely and utterly done. Dreams were for suckers. Nothing was going to change, nothing I did mattered, so why even bother trying anymore.

Yeah well, jokes on me because two weeks before RTX 2019 Kerry and Miles approached me asking me to audition for May.

I was... happy to have them approach me but I probably came off as abrasive and annoyed... again, I was BUSY, I had a lot of work on my plate AND I was having several existential crisis at the same time... but they wanted to hear me audition so, I did.

When they told me I got the role I broke down and cried for hours... every time I thought about it I’d begin to sob... and then I recorded May’s very first lines just days before RTX 2019 and it was finally real.

...and the rest is history, I guess.

Never thought I’d see the day, honestly. But hey, now we’re here.

So uhhhh... TLDR, actually only my partner and a few close friends knew I was a huge Robin Hood fan until recently. Guess there was still little bits of shell left on my shoulders even after all this time. Whoops.

#yokonami #ama #ask me anything #kdin #kdinjenzen #kdin jenzen

[kyle-valenti]

burnout only feels like burning

2.7k / Summary: kyle valenti doesn't have the same quarantine as his friends; an exploration of kyle's trauma during covid as a doctor. (tw depression & other triggers you’d imagine with this subject)

read & comment/ ao3

A little like the virus itself, Kyle’s relationship with his mask begins with worry, annoyance, and then pain. He’s more than happy to have the proper N-95 mask as they begin to get their first case at Roswell General but then a couple more patients trickle in and within a few days his skin is irritated and itching. Maybe it’s the news, maybe it’s the texts from his friends that he’s increasingly missing, but when the Regiment starts spouting off about how COVID is a joke he thinks it might be affecting his nerves too. By week three his former red mark left by the mask has become a permanent feature to his face and by week five it’s not a mark but a bruise instead. Blisters and cracks in his skin litter his hands from over-washing. His feet become so overused the pads of his feet feel numb and bruised and he wears through an entire pair of shoes.

Positivity has fled from his life by week seven and now he’s inside of a survival mode he’s never experienced. He thought after last year he’d be used to anything the world (or universe, rather, given all these aliens) could throw at him. Now what feels foolish, he had believed that there was nothing that could be worse than the previous pain of losing a patient or finding out his father had experimented on people’s lives. 

When he’s out of ventilators and CPAP machines because Albuquerque needs them more and he has to choose whether or not to save the life of an eighty five year old or a thirty two year old he remembers from high school, he breaks.

 Guilt is one thing, grief is another, but the pure rage he feels knowing that Max Evans is out on the town patrolling as some fucking cop and not someone who could heal most of this hospital makes him want to commit actual murder. Maybe trading the blood of an alien on his hands would feel less heart-wrenching. But no. Max had brought back Rosa and had paid the price. Quelling his anger, he went back to work.

 He slept at the hospital most nights in the height of it. Sure the couch was rough, but it was better than the other on-call doctor beds down the hall. Three twelve hour ER shifts of a usual work week doubled to five days of thirteen hour shifts. Soon there’s a week where he pulls double shifts for an entire week when one of his nurses is urgently hospitalized herself. Hospital directors had left them with no PPE except contaminated masks to reuse. Maria, Isobel, and Rosa are in the forefront of a drive to make and donate masks to his hospital after some social media posts that he doesn’t even see until the cloth masks arrive and his medical assistants give him their handwritten note. It makes him smile, but smiling feels so foreign that he almost wants to break from that.

 Visitors are no longer allowed which means Kyle isn’t allowed to use his bedside manner to comfort the family of patients. He has to facetime mothers, spouses, and children and hold the phone over a patient who can’t breathe without machine assistance and pretend that everything is fine and that there’s still hope despite the hypoxia and lack of rising vitals. Ignore that if the patient goes into cardiac arrest more than once, the kindest thing to do given prognosis is to let the patient pass. Resuscitation and DNR (a patient’s begging request to not be resuscitated) becomes a word he uses in his daily work and not simply for intense surgeries.

 Exhaustion isn’t a deep enough adjective to describe the fugue state he goes into. File to file, room to room, ventilator to next… he isn’t surprised when his body starts to wear down. When he no longer feels hunger and instead feels all too hot and dizzy. Telling himself it’s just because of how much he’s exerting his body while covered in layers and layers of protective clothing doesn’t help the fact that he’s starting to have more trouble breathing as he walks the hallways at a fast pace. When he begins to cough, he does what he promised himself he wouldn’t do and drives out post-shift to the desert cabin of Max Evans.

 Part of him is too desperately tired to knock, but when he arrives on the property with the cop car idle and the house dark and at peace for the night, his fury greets him with the embrace of a long-lost friend. Knuckles pound at the wood and Max answers the door with surprise and a general look of defense, and Kyle tries not to immediately punch him in the face at the fact he looks like he had woken up from a comfortable sleep.

 “Heal me.” Kyle manages to spit out.

 “I—what’s wrong?”

 “Beginning stages of respiratory distress, fever, nausea—what do you fucking think?”

 “Kyle—,” Max starts to say, the hesitation deepening, and that does it.

 “No. I have not asked you for anything in all of this, Evans. Anything!” He shouts, voice hoarse. “Not when people got sick, not when they started dying, not even when we started having to let people die on purpose. And you know what? I wasn’t going to even come and ask you now, but I can’t get sick when I’m the one here fucking saving lives out of the two of us and you’re just cruising the streets handing out goddamn traffic tickets.”

 Max’s face isn’t stony like it usually is when Kyle’s yelling at him; this time it’s crushed and guilty but not nearly enough. “What kind of hours you work this week, Evans? A nice 8 to 4? Did you get facetime with Isobel or your mom, maybe binge through a few books and movies after you’re home? Did you sit down and eat a nice dinner and or go over to drink a few beers with Guerin since you can’t get sick? Even get a nice eight hours of sleep in your own bed in your nice quiet home?”

 No response.

 “I am not asking to sequence your DNA like Liz. All I am asking is for you to let me heal people since you don’t want to.”

 A night breeze is all that makes noise for a moment as Kyle catches his breath and glares at Max, who stands quietly but is staring down at his boots before he finally looks up and nods. Max steps forward then, and Kyle sees that his eyes are actually filled with tears. Temper deflating, but still not subsiding entirely, given that not much else is able to be done; Kyle lets Max place a hand on his shoulder and feels the extremely weird feeling spread throughout his body. Something more electric than anything else, which God knew made a lot more sense concerning his powers and how the body operated with electrical nerve impulses, but that is a train of thought better left for another day. He wants to just walk away, and he almost does, but he still mutters a “thank you” before he does so.

When his nurse dies a few days later and he watches as the staff double bag her body to take to the morgue, he escapes to his office and crashes on his couch with sobs. There’s no one here to support him. He can’t go to his mother’s home and collapse into one of her comforting embraces without risking infecting her. He can’t get wasted at the Wild Pony with Maria when it’s closed. He can’t visit Rosa or Arturo at the Crashdown. Keeping his friends and family safe meant keeping them away from him. Keeping them safe meant he needed to stop pushing his head into his hands to try and control the sound of his crying and get back to work at saving the lives around them.

He gets put on leave by the hospital administrator when he’s almost arrested for decking Wyatt Long in the hospital parking lot as the idiot stood outside with a sign rallying Regiment members to make sure the hospital was told it was killing people on purpose for the election. If Jenna hadn’t been the officer on duty he would have been cuffed and put on record, jeopardizing his license, but there was some self-preserving part of him that desperately wished for his practice to be over anyway. He’s not even sure how Jenna handles it, honestly, all he remembers is her dropping him off at his house from her patrol car like she had been nothing but an uber. No matter how angry and adamant he gets, his boss refuses to bend, saying it’s for his own good given the connections the Long’s have in the town and how Kyle has worked almost 74 of the past 76 days.

Alex is the first to visit him, unannounced. When the doorbell rings Kyle is mindlessly pretending to watch some tv show in his living room that’ll distract him from his consuming thoughts about patients, so he doesn’t get up to answer. He checks his silent phone to see if he was forewarned of a visitor but sees nothing. Unsure if it’s his boss or a patient’s family, he forces himself up onto his sore feet and opens the door after grabbing a regular mask off the coffee table. Black face mask on and standing further out from the door on the porch is Alex, the usual gruff hello turned into something soft. “Hey.”

Kyle heaves a sigh. He had wondered when the pity visits would begin. “Hey. You really shouldn’t be around me, you know.”

��I’m clearly a minimum of eight feet away in an open space while masked.” Alex smarts back. “Either way, I’m worried about you.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Don’t fucking worry about me. Worry about getting sick, because if I have to see another person I care about die, I--,”

“Kyle.” the other says too kindly, the sort of pacifying voice Alex reserved for only the most dire situations. “I have no idea what you’re dealing with in specifics, but my experiences do overlap with yours in some places.”

“And?”

Maybe it came out a little too rude, because Alex raises a brow, but then sighs instead. “And I’m just checking in to make sure you know people care about you.”

“Thanks, Manes.” Kyle huffs in return, managing not to roll his eyes because focusing on being blunt and abrasive was so much easier.

“Just be careful.” Alex interjects before Kyle could close the door and turn back to his show. “Dealing with the trauma of what you’re dealing with gets dark very quickly.”

“Because I punched Wyatt Long?” he spits back sarcastically.

“No, because the suicide rates for healthcare professionals are drastically increasing along with the rates of PTSD diagnoses.” Alex says flatly, ever one to be unfazed by sarcasm. “And I’ve lost more active duty members to suicide than I have combat.”

Kyle pauses, caught. Maybe Alex had known he would be, because there isn’t some way he can give a smile and reassuring wave with him like he could his mother or Liz. While Kyle hadn’t actively thought of a plan, he couldn’t pretend he had noticed signs of depression the second he was alone in his house. 

“The quiet is the worst part, right?” Alex says, all but reading his mind. “Not always because of the flashbacks, although those are horrible, but because if things are quiet then--,”

“--people are dying.” Kyle finishes, his voice raspier by the end of the three words. “Yeah, well, mine still are.”

“They’re going to.” Is what felt like a cold response, but somehow gave Kyle the understanding he’s been craving. “They’re going to die and because of your profession you’re going to be able to save some of them. Which will make you think you’re responsible to save all of them and because you’re a good person you’re going to feel guilty in ways that no one will understand for being human and failing to.”

“Failing is all I do lately.” Kyle replies. “Usually the wins feel higher than the losses as a doctor, but with this-- and no one outside of it cares. They go outside and yell about how this is about a fucking election and when it’s not the patients, it’s the hospital pretending they don’t have enough money to buy us proper protection. Or the government saying this will all go away and that it’s just a light cold.”

Alex gives a small nod. “I know. I also know telling you the same advice that you’d give another doctor of trying not to burn out and instead taking a small rest is useless. So I’m just going to drop off these dvd’s and make you report back to me the difference when you’re done.”

Star Trek and Star Wars. Kyle finds a smile tug on his lips. Alex leaves with one on his as well.

When he gives a response to Alex a few days later on how Star Wars is better not more than a few minutes later Deluca is texting him with recommendations on joining her Buffy the Vampire Slayer rewatch. There’s something sweet about the fact that people have been clearly talking about him, even if definitely borderline creepy with how nosy his circle of friends can be, but he sighs and lets Maria add him to the group chat she has with Rosa and Liz where they review each episode after the fact and even chimes in every now and then. Isobel gets added not long after due to an Instagram story Maria shares and then the group has moved onto Friends after everyone shoots down Liz for suggesting Grey’s Anatomy on behalf of Kyle. Alex is also in there, even if it’s rare he chimes in with an opinion, but once they start Friends his commentary about how much he hates Ross that gets the entire group riled up does tend to make him laugh. Even Kyle agrees with Forest-- whose opinion had been shared by Alex-- that Chandler had all too many queer-coded scenes with Joey.

His mother facetimes him daily, which given how they both don’t exactly go out much starts to become monotonous, until she begins to give in and talk about memories she has of their father. Tidbits she never would have shared with him about their adult life when he was a child or teenager. He in turn facetimes Rosa and shares some of the memories of their father as well, which as much as she tries to pretend she doesn’t want for Arturo’s sake she clearly does with the million questions she asks every single time and the small smile she gives him at the end of their calls.

Liz updates him on her work which is a nice reprieve from everyone’s normalcy and lack of medical jargon sometimes, especially when she gives him inside info on covid vaccine studies not yet published to the general public yet. Everything in him wants this more than anything else in the world right now and he texts her almost every day asking if she’s heard more news even when he knows things take time. She’s a good sport about everything, even when he shares in a very angry rant about Max Evans and how they could have helped so many more people so much more quickly with his DNA-- however selfish that might have been.

When he goes back to work, he feels refreshed, even when it makes things hit like a freight train once more. Lost in a sea of inadequacy, his feelings extend past the pandemic. Even when things return to a level of normalcy and the cases subside he gets alien medical drama thrown in his face once more, and he starts to wonder if he’ll ever recover. If he was wrong to choose this calling. If the fact he can’t help Max or Maria is a sign from above or his father that it’s time to make some career move or change location like his mother and Liz. But, like he tells Michael Guerin. He can’t think he can face his future children and say he walked away from this. Or let people die by quitting, just like Rosa warns. And so he stays and tries to heal both other people and himself.

#so yeah this was the lighter version #i had to stop before things got to dark for my own mind #also genuinely feel like the mentions he gives to rosa about feeling lost #should stem from this if the writers aren't cowards #kyle valenti #rnm fic #kyle valenti fic #roswell new mexico #tw covid #tw depression #my fic #my post

[i-love-you-all]

Aftershocks pt.2

Hey, this is a continuation of the first part of this story which can be found here. The bad ending shows up before the good one so if you want to skip one or another, feel free! Also should mention that I kinda got this idea off the lovely anons who send Sova/breach hc’s to @ninadrawsstuff. I normally don’t write angst when it comes to this ship but...

Rated M, ~2k words, Breach/Sova, implied death.

It went wrong when Skye pulled him away as soon as the debrief ended.

Breach was so bored just moments before with thoughts of Sova’s smile and warm hugs muddling his brain. Not that he was obsessed with Sova, but it had been weeks since he had seen him, or even exchanged words. It didn’t worry him at the time because Sova was on his own mission, and probably couldn’t find the time, and as cliché as it was, he didn’t want a poorly timed text message to ruin Sova’s plans. And either way, it was Sova. The man was a soldier in every sense of the word. He could beat Breach in close quarters combat, had the stamina of a workhorse, and possessed the conviction of one of those superheroes Breach liked to compare him to. Sova was a superhero. Breach didn’t need to worry about him.

He should’ve been worried though.

“Breach…”

He should’ve known in advance too just from that tone of voice. She never approached him with such regret What she said next made him take a step back, chest tightening, and fists clenched. Because…

Because there was no way that Sova, the man with that radiant smile and bright eyes, the man with the soothing voice and stubborn confidence in his team – in Breach – was gone.

“…I told him he wasn’t the hunter of anything but…” He left Skye without finishing his poorly constructed sarcasm.

No way.

Adjusting would’ve been hard for anyone in his situation. It was worse when no one else even knew how deeply they were connected. Skye… She tried, but even the nature girl wouldn’t be around to keep Breach safe from the comments about his behaviour forever. People judged him for a lot of things in his past. Here, they judged him because of his rough words and arrogance. They judged him for his insults on all their characters, but mostly Sova. Apparently, he wasn’t allowed to mourn the loss like the rest of them. They didn’t even bother updating him on any plans or news about Sova. And the worst part of all was that he had to go along with it.

Skye would tell him otherwise Sova probably would’ve told him otherwise, but a small part of him wondered if he was the reason why the mission had failed. From the moment he confessed to Sova that he had indeed felt the same way about him to now, Breach had grown softer. He could feel it. Sova’s patience and kindness was rotting Breach’s abrasiveness and contempt. A lot of things had changed. He didn’t call Killjoy “nerd” anymore unless he was genuinely teasing her. He hadn’t called Omen a freak since the day Sova called him out on it. And he was listening to Brimstone more often while talking back less. Or as much as he could stand. And if Sova’s genuine goodness was soaking into his everyday life…

Please for the love of… anything – everything… Sova wouldn’t take risks that he didn’t think would work in his favour, right? There was no way Breach had infected his core morals because Sova had to have been too strong for that. Sova wasn’t reckless, he wasn’t cocky. But it still nagged at the back of Breach’s mind when he wondered if Sova had made a move that only Breach could’ve lived form.

And if he did, why couldn’t Sova have just… thought? Why would Sova just throw himself at death? People loved him – people other than just Breach. Was he so willing to throw away their feelings so he could play a hero? Or why couldn’t Sova have gone with backup? One person missions were rare for a reason these days and for a good reason. Why would he agree to something so risky – especially when he knew that Breach needed him more than he needed to breathe.

Breach cried for the first time in years. And it happened regularly to the point where others assumed he was drinking himself under every night. In the mornings, he would get up and realize there was no one to hold, no one to kiss and whisper good morning to, and it would make him plop back onto his bed. Even while sprawled on his back, it hurt because he knew that if things were normal, he wouldn’t have the room to starfish like this. He would just lay there until Skye came by and physically dragged him out of bed. Eventually, Brim must’ve caught on and thought that Breach was bored. The next day, he got ready for another mission.

He didn’t think about how the last time he did this, Sova was here to finish the braid. Nor did he think about how warm Sova’s body was when he leaned back into his boyfriend. He definitely didn’t think about how the smell… it just wasn’t there. There was nothing to smell but the oil from last nights tuning.

But the mission did offer him clarity. Clarity in the form of revenge.

“What did you do to him?”

Breach stared down at his double. He had managed to disable the other’s arms rendering him near useless, and, if they were the same, likely panicked.

“Make me ask that again, and I’ll shoot right here,” he growled, pointing his gun down at the point between other Breach’s legs.

The other clenched his teeth. “Protective, aren’t you? This show you’re trying to put on is just pathetic.”

“Talk.”

Other Breach tensed when Breach fired a couple rounds just below the intended target.

“He walked through a rift. I sent him back through it as a puddle to god knows where.”

And just the thought of it… Breach knew the kinds of messes he could do with his arms… If this Breach really did that to Sova—

“Worried over that weakling?”

Breach took aim and shot, ignoring the howl of pain and whimpers. “Learn your lesson. That Sova’s mine.”

Other Breach was panting, hand covering the wound and glaring back up at Breach. “Was. That Sova was yours.”

He just needed one bullet to shut him up. He had his answers. Brim was not impressed with how he got them, but they were a place to start.

One day and three hours. That’s how long it took for KJ to track down the recent record of rifts and located the one nearest to where Sova had been deployed. From there, Breach could do nothing but pace in his room while waiting for news. Others apparently cared more about Sova than him, and while that was laughable, it was what they had decided. By minimizing his feelings though, it forced him to consider the possibility of… he didn’t want to say.

Bad ending:

The news was almost worse than not knowing. When the returned, Skye wouldn’t even let Breach into the same room where Sage was working. Radiants had a limit to their powers. The more powerful it was, the more rules it generally had, and Sage’s resurrection abilities required a mostly intact body.

Sova’s did not qualify for that.

That was all Skye told him.

There was never a point in his life where his body felt like it belonged to someone else. Right now, his body was fine. It went through the same routine as he did every day, and as far as others could tell, it was normal. Breach was fine. Except he wasn’t. He was trapped, unable to do anything but think about how lonely he was now while his body just kept moving without intent.

And in that low moment of darkness, despair, and anguish, he made a vow to both himself and the now empty room three doors down from him. That other Breach was going to taste the absolute emptiness that Breach was feeling now. His missions were going to be impossible, and… It’d be hard, but Breach was going to punish the other Sova like how his was treated. Maybe with enough rounds and missions, he would properly return the favour that other Breach had done.

Because no one should’ve been able to touch the Sova now being prepared to be sent back to his motherland. Only he was allowed to…

That Sova was his, and he’d make the other Earth agents wish that his Sova was still here.

Good ending:

It’d be close. That’s all he was told

Skye kept him away from the med bay and surprisingly also off of missions. It forced Breach to agonize over the possibility of it not going the way he wanted it to. And while he felt sorry for Skye and Sage, the fact that they were still working meant something. He wouldn’t deny the fact that he was much nicer to the two women over that week.

Finally, one night, he was woken up by a knock on the door. To his surprise, it was Sage who had come to bring him to the room where Sova was being kept for now.

“Yours was the first name he said,” she told him, holding the door open. “I will not ask why but go see him.”

He nodded, and walked in, hearing the door click close behind him.

Sova was so bandaged up that he almost didn’t recognize him.

“Sova,” he gently called, reaching out for his hand.

He froze when he saw Sova flinch away from him. Right. It was his clone after all that did this. “It’s me.”

He sat at the edge of the bed, hands resting on the mattress but not touching Sova. Breach sat there for minutes, not saying a word, just taking in the view of his lover… alive and in front of him. Eventually, he saw Sova reach for his hands, and he finally leaned in closer, taking in the smells of chemicals, rubbing alcohol, and dried blood. He pecked Sova’s cheek and smiled at how the other man tried to chase him as he pulled back.

“You had me worried there for a moment,” Breach murmured.

“Perhaps I should die more often. You’re very quiet for once.”

It was a joke. He knew that. But it didn’t stop him from taking a deep inhale and clenching his fists. Going forward, this was a topic neither could joke about. That’s what his reaction meant. Sova reached out for his torso, right where the ribs were and pressed it softly against him.

When he leaned in again to fully place his lips on Sova’s, he heard the other man whisper, “I did not mean to make you worry.”

“The next time you meet him,” Breach growled, “Remind him that you’re mine. And what he does to you, I’ll do to him times a hundred.”

“I was not aware I was something that could belong to you.” Sova was whispering so quietly it was hard for Breach to hear. That, and there was hardly a second for him to speak while Breach was so intent on lavishing him with attention, keeping his mouth occupied.

“You belong to me until you say otherwise.” He looked Sova in the eyes and realized that he could not possibly convey the absolute despair that he was almost sent to when Sova didn’t come back. “But I’m so great that you won’t want to leave.”

He returned to give him small pecks and kisses to make Sova smile until he passed out again. Sage found him resting with his head leaned all the way back and hand still linked with Sova’s. His initial panic at being found out was quelled with a soft hand on his shoulder.

“This is not my secret to give away.” Her looked turned more apologetic. “I’m sorry. I thought at first that…”

“It’s fine, Sage.” He kept his voice quiet as to not wake his sleeping beauty. “Skye’s been giving me updates on him. As long as he’s ok… thank you.”

He woke up in his own bed again, but this time with the familiar blue cape draped over Breach like a blanket, and for the first time, he could smell the scent of Sova’s shampoo mixed with his cologne. It wouldn’t be one last memory with Sova until he left for good. And he hadn't left for good. Not yet, and not while Breach was still breathing.

#valorant #valorant fanfic #Breach #sova #Sova/Breach #my writing #angst #possible happy ending #also a bad ending #hope there aren't too many mistakes/typos lol

[tchallasbabymama]

Make it Better

Heyyy y’all! Here’s Ch 8 of Playlist. Check out my masterlist HERE to catch up and read my other stories. This is a long one....

Check out the actual Playlist HERE

Word count: ~10k

CW: Smut

“What?!” K’Hari yelled at his only child as she cried at the kitchen table. Tamala had sat both of her parents down to tell them the news and so far her father was not taking it well. “Say that one more time so I know I understood you. You’re what now?”

“I’m calling off the wedding,” she said through her tears.

“What happened, busi?” her mama asked softly as her baba continued to seethe next to her.

“What happened doesn't matter, Aja. What matters is your daughter has lost her fucking mind if she thinks-”

“Baba, he loves someone else!” Tamala yelled as K’Hari’s eyes rolled in exasperation. “He’s always loved someone else.” She hung her head and berated herself for not seeing it sooner when her mother’s hand reached out to tip her chin upwards to meet her gaze.

“Sithandwa, he could learn to love you,” Aja said softly while using her other hand to wipe the tears from her daughter’s eyes.

Tamala moved away from her mother and looked at her in horror. 

“I thought you would be on my side! He doesn't love me, mama, and he never will. He said so himself...he only loves her.”

“Who is this elusive love of his?” K’Hari’s voice took on a sinister tone.

“H-her name is Ashanti, she's from the Merchant Tribe-”

“Owns an art store?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“Y-yes, how did you know?”

K’Hari sighed and his head fell back. He should have known all along.

“She’s the girl that got herself kidnapped by Princess Zenzi, but the king never said why she was the target. Demethi!” He struck the table, shocking Aja and Tamala. “Does he still see her?”

“No,” Tamala sniffled, “I put the fear of Bast in her and told her I would have her exiled if she contacted him again. It must have worked, I’ve never seen T’Challa so angry before.”

“Did he hurt you?” 

“No, mama, not physically anyway. He told me...he told me I would be his queen but she would always have his heart and that this was just an arrangement. What does that even mean?!” Tamala broke down crying as her parents gave each other a look.

K’Hari and Aja Obu had wanted nothing more than for their daughter to marry well, so when the opportunity to have her marry the king presented itself they took it. In council meetings K’Hari and several of the other elders voiced their concerns about the king not being married. He would always brush it off until K’Hari had the idea to align himself with the Border tribe and not allow his immigration proposal to pass. He knew the king would want to speak with him one-on-one about it, and during their meeting he insinuated that his vote could be bought if the king would marry his daughter. Three birds, one stone. They didn’t expect the king to be so cruel and tell Tamala about their deal though. 

There was a long silence as K’Hari shook his head frantically at his wife, knowing she was on the verge of telling Tamala everything.

“Busi-”

“Aja, no-”

“Thula! This was all your idea anyway,” she snapped and K’Hari shrunk into himself. Aja wiped Tamala’s tears and held both of her hands. “Honey, your father made a deal with the king-”

“What kind of deal?” she asked through her stuffy nose and freefalling tears.

“My dear, I-” he cut himself off with a sigh. He never imagined his plan going south, so he had hoped that he would be able to get away with not telling her what he did, but all of that got thrown out the window the minute she showed up at their house in tears. “I made a deal with the king. He wants to open Wakanda even further to the Lost Tribe and allow them to immigrate here. It is a good proposal, but I split the vote and convinced Hodari of the Border Tribe to follow my lead. The king came to speak with me about it and well, uh, long story short I promised him my and Hodari’s votes if he would take you as queen. I knew how important his proposal was to him, and how the rest of the council had been pushing him to find a wife. It was the perfect plan.”

“No it wasn’t! You used me! And mama, you knew about it!” She snatched her hands away from her mother and stood from the table.

“Busi, we-”

“No! You basically sold me to the king! Actually, nevermind, because in order to sell something the buyer has to actually want it! You pushed me onto him and you thought that was ok? You thought I wouldnt eventually find out?!” She quickly gathered her things and ignored her parents’ protests as she stormed out of their home.

Tamala had nowhere she could go and be alone away from everybody, so she retreated to her temporary quarters in the palace. She stayed in there for a week, only letting kitchen staff in and out, but she was upset even more by the fact that nobody came to check on her wellbeing. She already knew she wasn’t wanted by the king, but it wasn’t until then that she realized how much the rest of the royal family never seemed to like her either. She knew she could be abrasive at times, but for them to be so cold? Then it dawned on her that they must have all thought she was involved in her father’s schemes.

“I wouldn’t like me either.” she mused to herself and decided she would go set the record straight at breakfast. 

The next morning Tamala was so anxious that she almost couldn’t make it in time, but she was able to pull herself together at the last minute. She emerged from her room and made the long walk to the elevators that would take her down to the dining area. The butterflies in her stomach flew faster and faster the closer she got, and she was sure other people could hear her heart beating out her chest. By the time she reached the door she had forced herself to calm down again, knowing that what she had to do required a clear head and an unwavering disposition. 

The palace guards opened the doors for her and when she saw them she immediately lost all of the confidence she had worked so hard to build. She had expected to just see the four of them there, but for the first time since she moved into the palace a month ago they had several guests at the table as well. 

M’Baku and his chieftess Shani were seated next to each other across from Queen Mother and Shuri. N’Jadaka sat next to his little cousin with Okoye to his left. It was her off day so they had invited her to join them for breakfast. Her ex-husband W’Kabi was nowhere to be seen, but instead there were two colonizers at the table next to M’Baku. One that looked like a human version of a golden retriever and the other seemed to be part robot. The empty seat at the foot of the table was her only option, so she sat down and tried to drum up the courage to make her announcement.

“Tamala, we have barely seen you this week,” Ramonda remarked, without looking up from her food, only partially interested in her response.

Tamala cleared her throat and when everyone reluctantly turned to look at her she locked eyes with the king. She could still feel how cold and detached he was towards her, which only solidified her decision.

“I needed some time to myself, to think. I have decided to...to call off the wedding.” Everyone was shocked. They all knew of the arrangement since they had each cornered T’Challa at some point to try to talk sense into him. None of them liked Tamala. She was rude, she was entitled, and she had a jealous streak that rubbed them all the wrong way. Worst of all, they thought she was only with T’Challa because she wanted the throne. “I didn’t know about my father’s plan, but I do now and I can’t go through with it. I can’t spend my life with someone who doesn’t love me.”

She kept her eyes on T’Challa and saw his face fall when he found out she was unaware of her father’s plan. He immediately felt bad for what he said to her when he realized her feelings for him were real.

“Tamala, I-”

“I know. You thought I was after the title. I wasn’t, but my father was.”

“That still doesn’t excuse what I said to you.”

“No, it doesn't, but I would have done the same thing if I were in your shoes.”

A silence fell over them and she looked around at the guilty faces surrounding the table.

“Did all of you know?”

Everyone nodded or grumbled their response and she felt even more embarrassed knowing that everyone knew it was a lie but her. She sat back in her chair in disbelief.

“If it helps, that’s not the only reason we didn’t like you,” N’Jadaka stage whispered to her from across the table. Shuri and M'Baku snickered as Ramonda reached behind Shuri’s chair to hit her nephew upside his head. 

“That does help, thank you N’Jadaka,” Tamala said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. 

“Could someone fill me in on what just happened?” the blonde colonizer, Steve, asked of his friends after another silence filled the table.

“I got you, man. So basically T’s been trying to make it so Black people can move to Wakanda, but her daddy is head of the Mining tribe and won’t let it go through unless he marries her.”

“What happens to the proposal now? Will he still block it from going through?” Okoye asked.

They all turned to look at Tamala.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Have you told your father about your decision?” Shani added.

“Yes, a week ago.”

“So you decided to wait until the wedding was damn near upon us to let us know?” Queen Mother was getting a headache. “Come with me after you finish eating, we have to call the press and cancel all the vendors and-”

“Mama, I will handle whatever needs to be done. Tamala has been through enough in regards to the wedding.” Ramonda wanted to argue with her son, but she knew he was doing the right thing.

“Very well then,” she gave in.

“So what are you gonna do now?” Bucky asked Tamala and everyone’s ears perked up in curiosity. 

“I’m not sure, but I definitely can’t go back to my parents’ after this.”

“That is understandable. You are welcome to stay as long as you need to.” T’Challa said across the table.

“Thank you, T’Challa.”

“It is the least I can do.”

-------

With three weeks left until the wedding, Ashanti was finally leaving for her month-long trip to New Orleans. She had purchased a cell phone and linked her beads to the archaic device so she wouldn’t have to use them in public. She had done her research on the city and even though her itinerary mostly involved just letting her creative juices flow, there were a few things she knew she had to see and do before she left.

When Chidi and Bisa dropped her off at Wakanda International they were still a little uneasy about Ashanti’s plan. She had never left Wakanda before, but here she was flying across the globe by herself to a city where she doesn’t have any friends or even extended family to look out for her, but they were supportive because they knew it was her dream. When she was young she always wanted to explore the world, but Wakanda was still closed to the outside so she let the idea slip away. She thought the only way she’d get to see it is if she became a War Dog, but Ashanti never had any interest in being a spy. Now her dream was finally coming true, and despite the anxiety twisting her stomach she couldn’t be more excited. 

Her flight only took about 7 hours on the Wakandan jet, and when she touched down and stepped out of the airport she was met with the wet heat of the southern United States. The temperature wasn’t too different from what she was used to, but the humidity made her feel like she was under water. She summoned a Lyft and people-watched as she waited for it to arrive.

She was relieved when it finally pulled up, looking forward to what she hoped would be an air conditioned ride.

“How’s it going ma’am?”

“Hi, uh, it’s good. André, right? How are you?”

“Yes ma’am. Here picking up,” he looked at his phone for confirmation, “Ashanti, but uh, I’ve had better days. Where you from? I hear your accent.”

“Do you hear yours?” she asked playfully as she slid into the back seat while he put her bags in the trunk. He laughed and the warmth of it brought a smile to her face. “I’m from Wakanda.”

“Ohhhhh, Wakanda huh? What made you leave paradise?” He asked as he plopped into the driver seat and closed the door.

“It’s not a paradise.”

“For those of us out here it is.” He looked at her through the rear view mirror for just a second. Her face fell, forgetting how privileged she was to grow up where she did. She had been so focused on getting away from the king that she forgot just how beautiful her homeland could be. “You should be careful out here, I’m sure it’s pretty different than what you’re used to. Crazy folks out here...you going down to Bourbon at any point?”

“Most likely, I’ll be here a while.”

“Hm. Well if you do please, please be careful chère. People get real stupid when they drink.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. Are you from here?”

“Born and raised. I moved up to Memphis for a while, but came right back. Always on the Mississippi though. What brought you here? You don't seem like the partying type and judging by all that luggage you’re planning to stay for a while.”

She sighed, not sure if she should get into it with her driver, but decided there was no harm in talking to him. 

“My ex is getting married and I just needed to get away for a while.”

“Still love him?” he looked at her through the mirror again and she looked back at him before nodding.

“Yeah I do, it’s complicated…”

“Sounds like it. I been there though. My babymama moved on a couple years ago and I still ain't over it. He’s a nice guy though so I can’t be too mad about it. As long as my girls are taken care of, that’s what matters.”

Ashanti listened and nodded along, watching the city pass by as they drove down the interstate to her new temporary neighborhood. She knew they had arrived when he turned off the exit and she saw a mural painted along a wall that read “Tremé” in colorful letters. They drove a few more blocks before André stopped the car in front of a house with a colorful, plant filled fenced-in courtyard. There was a fat tabby cat lounging in the walkway by an adorable little iron bistro set. Before getting out of the car she used her iphone to review the instructions the host sent her, then she swung the door open, ready to see her living space in person. André grabbed her bags out of the trunk and placed them on the sidewalk for her.

“Could you help me carry them in?” she asked of her Lyft driver who turned to look at her like she was crazy.

“Ma’am, you sure are trusting. I’ll help you, but you can’t be out here just letting people in your place like that.”

Ashanti blushed, she hadn’t even thought of the danger she was putting herself in and she was thankful that André seemed like a good man. He brought her bags into the living room and took a look around, whistling at the sight. 

“I’ve never actually gotten a look inside one of these new Air Bnb’s, these are niiiice. Ruining the neighborhood though, but what can you do?”

“How is it ruining the neighborhood?”

André chuckled a little at her naivety before concern crept up on him, too. This girl had let him into her home, alone, and he wondered what other stupid things she might get into.

“You know, how about I show you around. I’ll be your personal chauffeur while you’re here. For a fee, of course.”

“Of course. That sounds like a good idea...ok lets do it.” 

“Great, did you want to settle in or go out now? I can run some quick errands while you rest up”

“I’ll be hungry in about a couple hours. Come back then?”

“You got it miss lady, see you later,” he turned to leave the house but turned back with a serious look on his face. “Make sure you keep these doors locked, you seem like the type to just keep them open.” 

“I will.”

He squinted at her, not believing a word she said.

“I said I will, Bast!”

“You better,” he pointed at her as he closed the door behind him.

She plopped on the couch and she was thankful to have the space all to herself, but the vibe was quickly ruined by him yelling at her from outside.

“Lock the door Ashanti!”

She scrambled from her spot and locked the door.

“Happy now?” she shouted at him.

“Thank you!” she heard him say right before the car door closed and he drove off. 

She was finally alone and could really feel the energy of the place. It would be perfect for her little artist getaway. The south facing windows let in so much natural light that she wouldn't even need to turn the lights on during the day. She had already scoped out where she would set up her easel, and she made a mental note to ask André about art supply stores since she could only bring so much on the plane.

She made her way to the bedroom and plopped down on the bed, testing its softness. Once she was satisfied she rolled off and went to the bathroom to set up her toiletries. When she opened the door she was thrown back in time to when T’Challa first invited her to his quarters after their first date. The monstera in the corner and the ivy draping down the walls reminded her of what she always called his “jungle chic bathroom”, but she quickly shook the thought out of her head. She stripped down and stared at herself in the mirror as the water heated up, but ran back to her suitcase to grab her kimoyo beads. They were synched to her phone, but she thought the sound quality was better on the beads.. 

“Hey Kim, play music.”

How do you mend when you worlds apart?

Ooh, carry on

Ooh, from the start

Somehow, we fell in love, then fell right out of touch

And ooh, that was hard

But ooh, here we are

And it's easier to walk away

Than to look for what would make you stay

“Next song please.” she grumbled, not in the mood for a love song. Thankfully the next song was anything but. 

“There’s some whores in this house, there’s some whores in this house…,” she sang along loudly while scrubbing down.

When she was finished she got out and did her usual routine before laying down to take a nap until André came back. When he did, she was excited to see that he brought gumbo. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were too tired to go out or not. Either way, this’ll heat up pretty good tomorrow. I made a big pot yesterday, figured you’d like some authentic ‘Nawlins’ cuisine.”

Her eyes lit up and she dug right in, obviously hungrier than either of them thought she would be.

“Mmm, this is amazing. You made this?” she asked, having yet another flashback to her first date with T’Challa. 

“Sho did, my daddy’s recipe.”

“Well tell your daddy I said thank you.”

“Tell him yourself. We having a fish fry this weekend, you should swing by. His place is just a few blocks from here.”

“I’ll be there! It’s not like I have any real plans or anything.”

“Yeah, what you gonna do while you're here?”

“Walk around, explore, paint, take in some sights, do some touristy things.”

“Let me guess, voodoo museum and cemetery tour?”

“That’s on the list, yeah.”

“Nah, my granny can probably tell you all that better than some tourist trap.”

“Will she be there this weekend?”

“Oh she never missed a fish fry in all her 79 years.”

Ashanti laughed

“Good. So about our chauffeur situation, how about $2,000 a week?”

He stared at her in disbelief.

“What? I’m sorry, is that too low? I’m not good with the conversion rate-”

“No that’s way more than I been making, you got yourself a deal. Hell I’ll be your protection detail too if you need it.”

She giggled a little bit and finally felt her shoulders relax. As much as she knew she needed this trip, it scared her to be so alone so far from home, but André’s warm aura made her feel safe in his presence. As far as she could tell, he was a Bast-send.

The two stayed in for the night, talking and getting to know each other until André left around 9. Ashanti locked up behind him and carried herself up to bed, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

-------

The king chose to take the day to himself, and he decided to spend it the same way he spent his favorite off-day, with Ashanti at her shop. She had to have seen the news by now and known the wedding was off, but she was still not answering his calls. He grew concerned and decided to use his day off to try to make things right. 

As he walked through the market with his Dora, waving at the occasional excited passerby and stopping to talk to the children that wanted his attention, he felt lighter than he had in a while. He was finally free of Tamala and once her father’s scheming was revealed to the council, he and Hodari were replaced by their second in command. The proposal to open Wakanda to the Lost Tribe had passed and now they could start prepping for the day when their doors would truly open to the world. His plan had gone through, he wasn’t being forced into marriage, and the council had even backed off of their incessant need to marry him off. All he needed now was his lady.

Chidi was the first to see him round the corner and he waved the king over, saluting him to keep up appearances in public. 

“What are you doing here, my boy?”

“I wanted to see Ashanti, do you know if she’s in?”

“She’s been gone for about three weeks now, she needed to get away from all the wedding coverage. She’ll be back next week unless her plans have changed. She barely calls us so I have no idea. Can you believe it, my only daughter goes halfway around the world and can't even call me to say she’s alive! Don’t have kids, T’Challa, they’ll rip your heart out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Where did she run off to?”

“New Orleans.”

“That fits her,” T’Challa smiled fondly while picturing her painting on an old balcony with jazz musicians playing down below or eating beignets and sipping coffee at Cafe Du Monde. 

“Not enough to forget about her parents, it doesn’t!” Chidi fussed, causing Bisa to stick her head out from the back. Her face lit up when she saw the king.

“Oh hi T’Challa dear.” She came out from the kitchen and gave him a hug, surprising the few customers  Zana Cafe had during the after lunch lull. 

“Bisa, a pleasure as always.”

“I’m sure he told you Ashanti is off galavanting around the world avoiding your wedding. By the way, congratulations on being single again. I could tell you hated every moment of being with that woman, she seemed too clingy for you.”

“Thank you, it is good to be single again.”

“Not for too long, I hope,” Chidi’s eyebrow raised as he stared up at the king.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good.” Chidi clapped him on the back and the king said goodbye to who he hoped would be his future in-laws.

As he crossed the street to Taj’s his nerves picked back up.

“She’s not even here man, chill out.” He spoke to himself softly and took a couple deep breaths before entering the store.

The doorway chimed every time a customer passed through, so when Zina heard it chime and  looked up she nearly dropped the beads she was sorting.

“M-my king!” She saluted him as Jafari came from the back room to see what all the commotion was about, before stopping and saluting him as well.

“Please, no need for that.”

“What can we do for you, your highness?” Jafari asked since Zina seemed to be stuck in a trance staring at the handsome king. 

“I was hoping to place a custom order.”

“The jewelry artist is out of town currently, but we can still take your order. It probably won’t be ready for another month or so. She doesn’t allow special orders to skip the line.”

“That is fine, I can wa- is your friend ok?”

Zina was still glued to the spot, staring at the king.

“Z, why don't you finish the beads in the back, I’ll handle up here.”

“Yeah. Ok, yeah, sorry, heh.” She shook herself out of it and rushed towards the back to get away from the king so she didn't embarrass herself further. 

The two men shared a knowing look and the king chuckled, used to that reaction by now. He had, after all, been fine as hell his whole life.

“So, what would you like?”

“First, I would like it to be anonymous.”

After about 30 or so minutes of finalizing the design, the king left the shop still feeling light, but now with a tinge of anxiety. He wasn’t sure how she would feel seeing him again, but the one big obstacle keeping them apart had finally been removed and he hoped she saw it that way, too. 

-------

Ashanti’s time in the Crescent City was coming to an end, and she didn’t want to say goodbye to André and the rest of the François family. She invited them to come visit her in Wakanda and she was sure at least a couple of them would actually take her up on her offer. Saying goodbye to everybody had been rough, but she was more than ready to go back home. She even said goodbye to the fat cat that laid around in her courtyard most mornings. When André dropped her off at the airport they were both misty-eyed. They had become the best of friends and he was already planning to come visit Wakanda during the summer with his daughter Désirée, who simply adored Ashanti. They hugged and kissed each other's cheeks before he sent her on her way through security.

The flight back seemed to take a whole lot longer than the flight there, but she still made it in about the same amount of time thanks to the jets being infused with Wakandan tech. As they got closer to the border, she could feel the tattoo on her inner lip start to tingle, and when they landed it finally subsided. She nearly ran off the plane when she saw her parents and roommates waiting for her at the gate, and she attacked all four of them with a giant hug.

“I missed you all so much!”

“Chile no you didn't, you barely texted me.” Kwame joked as she hit his arm.

“And you barely called us. Must have been some trip!” Chidi added.

“It was! I have tons of pictures. I met this guy who-”

“A guy?” her mother interjected, concern written on her face. Ashanti misinterpreted it as concern for her safety but she was actually concerned about the state of her and T’Challa’s possible relationship. 

“Yes, mama, a guy. He was my driver and we became friends and his family sort of took me in for the month. It was great!”

The five of them made their way to  Zana Cafe and were met with Zina and Jafari, who were both ecstatic to have their boss back.

“Bosslady! You look well-rested.” Jafari pulled her in for a hug before Zina could do the same.

“That’s because I am. I need to do the whole vacation thing more often. Travelling is so cheap thanks to the conversion rate. Did you know our money is worth five times as much as American money?”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. Why don’t you go ahead and start telling stories and I’ll bring the food out?”Chidi suggested.

Ashanti had them hanging on her every word all night long. She told them about everything, from the cemeteries to the swamps to Bourbon street to the history of Marie Laveau. She told them about the jazz musicians and what she learned about the effects of hurricane Katrina and gentrification. She told them about the François family and the kindness they showed her, and even pulled up some pictures of her work on her beads to show them.

“I’m definitely going back at some point.”

“Don't you want to go somewhere else instead?” Zina asked, stuffing her face full of food.

“I want both,” Ashanti said with a laugh. She had missed her friends and family, but wouldn't trade the last month of her life for the world.

It started getting late so Zina and Binta left to go be with their respective significant others, while the others cleaned up the table. Jafari was the next to go, and after he left the remaining three descended upon Ashanti too quickly for her comfort.

“Do you know already?” Kwame asked her suspiciously.

“Know what? You’re freaking me out.”

“About the king.”

“Why would you- I left to get away from him, I don’t want to think-”

“Intyatyambo, they called it off weeks ago,” Bisa added.

Her whole world stopped, but she was too tired to process the information they had just given her.

“I-I don't...why?”

“Nobody knows, but the king came down here looking for you the other day.” said Chidi.

“He did?!” Ashanti asked, looking to her mother for confirmation.

“He did.”

“Well, um- that’s cool I guess. I-I need to get some rest, it’s late and my brain hurts.”

“Get home safe sithandwa,” Chidi ordered.

“I will baba, bye. Bye mama.'' She hugged them both before she and Kwame drove home in his new hover car.

“So this André guy?”

“Just a friend, Kwame.”

“Ok but is he cute?”

“You know that American show you like to watch? Oh, what’s it called...Insecure! He looks like the light skinned guy on there.”

“Nathan?! Girrrrl and you didn’t hit that?”

“No, ew, he felt more like a brother.”

“Mmmhm, so you didn’t go get your groove back?”

“Meaning…?”

“Did you get that back blown out in Nola or no?”

“No.”

“Girl I swear, the wrong one of us is doing all the travelling.”

The two laughed as they entered their home and said good night before going their separate ways.

As comfortable as her bed back in New Orleans was, it pales in comparison to her bed at home. She knew not to even sit down until she was ready to pass out. She quickly showered and threw on a big t-shirt before hopping in her bed and drifting away to dreamland.

Mmm, Ashanti.

Come sit on your throne, kitten. 

Ride me just like that.

Bounce on it.

Cum on my dick.

Nah-uh, don’t fucking move, I’m cumming in this pussy. My pussy. 

“Your pussy, baby,” Ashanti whimpered in her sleep just moments before her eyes flew open. She hadn’t had a dream like that in months, now all of a sudden her body was acting crazy just because she heard he was single again. As far as she knew, the council could have another wife lined up for him so there was no need to even get excited. Apparently, nobody told her pussy that. 

She looked at the clock and was surprised it was well after 10am, until she remembered she probably had jet lag. Her thoughts were interrupted by a light knock at the door.

“Oh good you’re up, I was just checking to make sure you were breathing,” Binta joked as Ashanti threw a pillow at her from the bed. 

“I’m alive, just jetlagged. I don't think I’ve ever slept this late in my entire life.”

“Yeah girl that's why I came up here to make sure you were ok!”

“I guess it’s something I’ll have to get used to if I’m going to be travelling a lot.”

Binta sat on the end of the bed.

“You really did love it huh?”

“I did, and there are so many places to see!”

Binta laughed and was about to say something when her beads rang.

“Oop, gotta go. Mrs. Obi is going into labor, but her doula came down with a stomach bug this morning so I get to step in.”

“Good luck!” Ashanti shouted at Binta as she frantically ran down the steps to grab her work bag and go.

Ashanti sat up in bed and stretched her arms out wide before swinging her legs over the side and standing up, stretching even further. She padded her way to the bathroom and checked herself out in the mirror while brushing her teeth. She decided to shower again since last night was more of a quick rinse, so she cut the water back on and got naked. 

“Hey Kim, play music.”

How do you mend when you worlds apart?

Ooh, carry on

Ooh, from the start

Somehow, we fell in love, then fell right out of touch

And ooh, that was hard

But ooh, here we are

And it's easier to walk away

Than to look for what would make you stay

This time she was in the mood for the love song, so she allowed it to play all the way through.

Remember when we first met?

We were having so much fun

So, now, how can we both forget

Telling each other, "We're the one"?

We would make love (We would make love)

At the drop of a hat

Remember that?

(Yeah)

I remember you and me (You and me)

Close as any two can be (Two can be)

Now we're strangers in the night (Strangers)

Awkward in the tight

Oh baby, do you want to make it better?

Do you want to stay together?

Hey, if you do

Then let's please

Make some new

Memories

The song was cut off by her beads ringing. She finished rinsing off and hopped back out the shower to see who was calling her. She threw on a robe, then answered the call. She was surprised to see Zina on the other end.

“Hey Z, how’s it going?”

“Hey Shanti, so um the shop is really busy and Jafari got that stomach bug that’s going around and-”

“I’ll be there in 30, no worries. Breathe Zina.”

She took a deep breath and was able to destress a little bit.

“Sorry, I just get a little tense sometimes.”

“I understand. If it's too busy for you to handle, just close the doors and we can reopen when I get there. See you soon.”

She ended the call and searched for something to wear. She threw on a white t-shirt and colorful joggers with sneakers before grabbing her bags and heading out the door. 

When she arrived at Taj’s the customers had died down so she was able to work in the back and look through her commissions. There was one that stood out to her, it was an anonymous client who wanted a very simple necklace. They could have bought one like it at the front of the shop, but she guessed this person wanted it made just for them. Looking at her calendar and other commissions she guessed it would be ready in a  month or so, but with it being such a simple design she decided to go ahead and make it to get it out of the way.

-------

The king was surprised when Jafari called him to come pick up his order. It was way earlier than he had expected, but he would never complain about getting to see Ashanti sooner rather than later. T’Challa decided to take the day off again, and he knew his sister wouldn’t take too kindly to it so he decided to make her favorite breakfast for her. When his mother and sister rolled into their en suite kitchen, following the delicious smells wafting through the royal wing of the palace, Shuri immediately knew something was up. 

“Unyana, shouldn’t you be working?”

“Oh no. Is this a bribe?” Shuri asked, eyes scanning over the American-style breakfast and mouth watering at the fluffy golden pancakes. She wanted to stand her ground, but they called to her. T’Challa knew what he was doing. 

“Don’t think of it as a bribe, think of it as a thank you in advance,” he said with a sly smirk on his face.

“Let me go clear my schedule-” she sighed.

“No need. Already done,” he smiled at her as he shovelled scrambled eggs onto her plate.

“You’re the worst. This better be for a good reason.”

“It is.”

“Are you going to tell us what it is?” Queen Mother inquired. 

“No, not yet.” T’Challa didn’t want his family to get too excited.

“Ugh, I deserve to know since you're making me queen for a day.”

He stared at her, deciding between telling her and keeping it to himself. His decision was cut short when his kimoyo beads rang and he answered to see Nakia looking very excited.

“N’Jadaka told me everything! How did it go?”

“Oh so you told him but won’t tell us?! Your own mother and sister? Your own flesh and blood? How rude.” Shuri said, crossing her arms and giving him a look of disapproval, making him roll his eyes at her dramatics.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to start anything, I was just so excited. You know the prince can’t hold water, I don’t know why you ever tell him anything.”

“You are right as usual, umhlobo wam.”

“Well, I’ll let you go since you obviously have some explaining to do,” she looked behind T’Challa at the princess and Queen Mother who had looks of displeasure on their faces. “Call me after!” And with that she ended the call and her hologram disappeared from his hand. He took a deep breath and turned to face his family.

“So?” Ramonda asked impatiently, Shuri nodding along.

“So...I am going to see Ashanti.” He paused as their faces lit up and he couldn't help but smile, too. “I went to see her on my off day a couple weeks ago, but she was out of town. Apparently she left to avoid the wedding coverage...but she’s back now, so I took the day off to go see her.”

Their smiles were up to their ears despite the silence that followed T’Challa’s explanation.

“I haven’t seen you look this happy in a long time, unyana wam.”

“Thank you mama, I’m hoping all goes well.”

“Bast be with you, dear.”

“Ugh, I guess I’ll do your job for you. Tell my sister I said hi and I miss her!”

Ramonda smirked at her daughter’s choice of words, and T’Challa fought to keep a smile off his face.

“I’ll do just that.”

“Well, go ahead and eat so you can get out of here,”  Ramonda encouraged her son.

T’Challa chuckled at his mother’s insistence, but did what she said. He tried his best to not rush through the meal, but his excitement took over and he inhaled his breakfast before kissing Shuri and Ramonda on their foreheads and running out the door.

As soon as he left the kitchen his nerves kicked in and he decided to smoke a little something on his balcony before heading out. The royal grower had left him a nice hybrid strain, and after a couple of hits he felt calm enough to do what he needed to do. He ashed his blunt before making his way down the palace elevators and out the front entrance. 

He strolled through the city with Okoye and three other Dora, standing tall and smiling at the few other pedestrians when they caught his eye.

“You’re in a good mood today. Is it the weed or our destination?” Okoye teased him.

“Yes.” he responded and chuckled as she gave him a knowing glance. She hadn’t seen her king this happy in...well it’s been a while.

They stopped just around the corner from Taj’s and T’Challa took a deep breath before walking forward. Thankfully it was still early and the market hadn’t livened up yet, so Taj’s would most likely be empty or at the very least not busy. 

The Doras stood watch at the open doors and he stepped in, causing the chimes to ring out once again. He was met with the same smiling faces as before and he immediately deflated since he had been hoping he would get to see Ashanti.

“My king.” Zina and Jafari said in unison, saluting him in the process. 

“Hello, I received a message that my order is ready. I would love to speak with the artist if she is in.”

“Sure, I’ll go grab her. She’s just in the back working on another order, I’ll be right back,” Zina said before hopping off her stool and disappearing behind a multicolored curtain that had been dyed by children in one of their art classes.

By the time Zina reached Ashanti’s workstation, she was overflowing with excitement.

“The-anonymous-client-is-here-and-they-want-to-meet-you!” she rushed out.

“Zina, breathe. One more time, please.” Ashanti looked up from measuring the pair of pendulums that would become pearl drop earrings when she was through with them.

“Just come out front and see for yourself.”

Ashanti sighed and set down her tools, brushing off her clothes as she stood and following Zina out to the front. She figured the anonymous order was either from someone she knew or from someone of nobility from one of the tribes, but nothing had prepared her to see T’Challa standing in her shop just like he did almost two years ago. She froze on the spot when she saw him and her two employees snickered at what they assumed was her “starstruck” face, not knowing it was anything but.

“Hi.” he said softly with a smile.

“Hi. So you’re my anonymous client?” her voice softened as she took in his form. T’Challa was many things, but he was not someone who repeated outfits, yet here he was in her shop wearing the exact same clothes as the day they met.

Zina and Jafari’s jaws fell to the floor as they both realized that Ashanti knew the king.

“That I am. I hope you don’t mind, I needed a way to see you. I didn’t want to just pop up at your home, but you blocked me, so...I understand though-”

“Holy shit-” Jafari said under his breath but much louder than he anticipated, causing Zina to elbow him in his side.

“W-we’ll just be in the back,” she stuttered as she pushed Jafari into the back room to give them privacy.

There was a tense silence for a moment before T’Challa spoke.

“I heard about New Orleans. How was it?”

“It, uh, was great. I was there about a month and met some really great people. Got a lot of painting done-”

“Hm” T’challa nodded with a warm smile on his face.

“What?”

“When Chidi told me you were in New Orleans that’s exactly what I pictured you doing. You, on a balcony, painting, with Jazz musicians playing on the street below.”

“So you pictured me, huh?” she teased.

T’Challa laughed. “Yes, quite often I’m afraid,” he took a step forward. “And you? Do you still think about me?” he asked her while moving closer so that the only thing between them was the counter.

Ashanti’s heart beat faster and her palms got sweatier with every step he took.

“All the time.”

“Do you have someone special in your life?”

“No. Any more arranged marriages on your end?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “No.”

“Good.”

“Good?” 

“Mhm.”

“Ashanti,” he took a deep breath. “I really am sorry.”

“For what?”

“I should have never let you go-”

“I needed to go, T’Challa. If you had chased me I just would’ve run further away.”

“Ok,” he nodded. “However, I know that if I had to see you with another man it would tear my heart to pieces, so I am sorry from the bottom of my heart that you had to experience that pain.” His big brown eyes twinkled with sincerity and her nerves simply melted away.

“Eh, I’ve had worse,” she joked, shrugging and holding up her pinky.

The two of them stared at each other in silence with small smiles plastered on their faces.

“Ashanti,” he began as he grabbed her hand and kissed it, feeling the cold metal of her robotic pinky beneath his lips, “I know it’s been a rollercoaster, to say the least, but my heart will always be yours.”

Tears welled up in her eyes and one escaped, prompting his thumb to reach out and swipe it away.

“Please don’t cry, kitten.” he said as tears threatened to escape his eyes, too.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“Don’t be sorry, my love.”

She looked at him in that moment and took in his face that she missed more than her heart could bear. She missed his deep dark eyes, his broad nose, his bushy yet tamed eyebrows, and that lopsided gap toothed smile. She missed scratching his beard when they kissed and oiling his scalp with him seated between her legs. She missed the little things about him and their time spent together, and she was tired of running. She was tired of letting her fear dictate her happiness. She was tired of other people standing in their way, but now there was nothing in their way but a wooden countertop.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered. 

He quickly rounded the counter and pulled her body in close, planting his lips on hers. She melted into him as they both finally let their tears fall. They stayed in that embrace for Bast knows how long, taking in the moment and reacquainting themselves with the feel of each other. 

T’Challa had missed the smell of her perfume and the pomegranate leave-in conditioner she used in her hair even more than he realized. Her soft body conformed to his and it took all of his willpower to not explore her body more, so he leaned back to untangle himself from her momentarily only to be pulled back into her embrace. She rested her head on his chest and listened to the comforting sound of his heartbeat.

“Not yet,” she whimpered as she pulled him in tighter. He chuckled and rested his chin on top of her head after placing a light kiss on her crown. He saw the curtain ruffle slightly and knew her employees were eavesdropping.

“I think we have an audience.”

“I figured.” She refused to let go. “Can we go somewhere else?”

“Anywhere you want.”

The wheels in her head turned and turned. She didn’t want to be bothered by either of their loved ones, but she wanted privacy.

“Take me back to the lake.”

“Anything for you.”

She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. This time it was true, he really would and could do anything for her. There was no fiancee or council standing in his way. 

“Zina, Jafari, you two can come out now,” she said as she pulled only halfway out of the king’s embrace, his arm still around her waist. Her two employees tripped over themselves from behind the curtain and emerged with guilty looks on their faces.

“I’ll be gone the rest of the day. If it gets too crazy I trust you two to handle it on your own.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Of course, bosslady.”

She momentarily left T’Challa’s warmth to grab her bag from the back before they sauntered out of Taj’s hand in hand.

-------

When you take somebody for your own

It can't survive on history alone

Meet me at the hotel, motel

Though we got a room at home

Go to a place that we don't know so well

It be nice, add a little spice

Try some new seduction

Show each other how

Give each other new instructions

On what makes us

Feel good

Now

I just wanna make you feel good now

Do you want to make it better?

Do you want to stay together?

And it's easier to run away

Than to look for what would make you stay

The music played in the background as they swayed back and forth. Her ear was planted directly over his heart again, listening as it beat in time with her own. His right hand intertwined with her left as he held her close and his chin found its home on the top of her head once more. They were both too full of emotion to speak, so they let the music do the talking for them. 

Do you want to make it better?

Do you want to stay together?

If you do

Then let's please

Make some new

Memories

Do you want to make it better?

Do you want to stay together?

If you do

Then let's please

Make some new

Memories

Do you want to make it better?

Do you want to stay together?

If you do

Then let's please

Make some new

Memories

Do you want to make it better?

Do you want to stay together?

Eventually the two of them tired of dancing and laid back in the grass talking about their time apart. When she spoke of New Orleans her face lit up, and he made a mental note to take her around the globe. The conversation turned serious about halfway through and T’Challa told her the whole truth about what happened with Tamala, even telling her of his behavior towards her.

“That poor girl.”

“I know. Had I known she was serious I wouldn’t have been so crass with her, but in my mind she was just another obstacle blocking me from you. We’ve since made up and are on good terms, but I still feel like shit about it.”

“Challa, you hold on to too much. You apologized, she accepted, and you two made up. Let it go, don’t let it eat you up inside.” She cupped his face in her hands.

He nodded in understanding and kissed her wrist, sending chills down her spine.

“How is the sobriety going?”

“It’ll be six months next week.”

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” 

“For becoming an alcoholic?” he joked.

She pinched his arm.

“No, silly. For getting a handle on it. My umalume was an alcoholic and I saw what it did to him. I’m happy you were able to get better.”

“I am too.”

They sat in another comfortable silence staring at each other until Ashanti got an idea. 

“Want to go for a swim?”

A smile slowly crept up the king’s face before he bolted up, already pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’ll take that for a yes,” Ashanti laughed. “Help me with my zipper?” She stood up and turned around, moving her beaded cornrows out of his way.

“Of course,” he said as he came up behind her and pulled her zipper all the way down, revealing a lavender lace bra and the top of what he assumed to be matching panties. “Still into lingerie, I see.”

“Oh please, like you aren’t into it too.” She looked at him over her shoulder and smirked.

“You’ve got me there’” he said with a chuckle that rumbled from deep within his chiseled chest and made her weak in her knees. Ashanti turned around and her dress dropped to the ground, revealing her almost naked body. She undid her bra and let it fall next, freeing her breasts that he loved oh so much. Last to go was her underwear, which she slowly slid down her legs before standing back up and looking him in his eyes as if to challenge him. “You’re next” her eyes said to him. 

T’Challa undid his belt buckle before unzipping his pants and pushing them to the ground. He had nothing underneath and Ashanti’s eyes were immediately drawn down to his thick, beautiful dick. She moved closer to him and placed a light kiss on his lips before taking his hand in hers and leading him to the water. The waded in to where Ashanti’s feet could still just barely touch the ground and she finally let his hand go and turned around to face him.

“I want us to start over. Like you said, we have a rocky history and I don’t want to carry that baggage with us anymore. We deserve a fresh start,” she brought her hands up to his shoulders, “You know, my umakhulu used to always tell us to take our problems to the river. He said freshwater had healing properties and could wash away your sorrows...well, it’s not the river, but I imagine this could work about the same way.”

A smirk fell on T’Challa’s face as he listened to her speak. “I never told you the name of this lake, did I?”

“I don’t think so, why?” Her big brown eyes stared up at him curiously.

“This is the Ichibi Lokuphilisa, blessed by Bast herself.”

“Oh...damn, I’m good.” she said as they both busted out laughing. Her bringing them to the Lake of Healing must have been a sign from Bast. Just like the dreams she had before meeting T’Challa and the ones she continues to have to this day. 

“You brought us here for a reason, what will you have me do now, my love?”

“Do you mean that? Do you love me?”

His hand splashed up out the water and cupped her face while his other arm snaked around her waist, pulling her into him.

“I’ve loved you since our first date. Before I even met you I had these dreams-” 

Ashanti’s eyes widened in shock.

“I saw you, too! I mean, it was blurry, but I saw you come into the shop and then I’ve had like a million sex dreams about you. Those haven’t gone away, either.”

“Neither have mine. My dream was blurry too, but I kissed you in your shop and then when we met and you dropped that broom, I felt sparks when our hands touched. I knew then you had to be the woman from my dream. Ashanti, my soul loved you before I even knew who you were.”

He wiped away the tears that were steadily falling from her eyes before kissing her forehead, her nose, then her lips. 

“I love you too,” she whispered against the king’s lips while they stood there forehead to forehead, looking deep into each other’s souls. “And I don’t want to be without you again. I know I’m the one that left-“ she was cut off by him pressing his lips to hers.

“None of that matters now. Fresh start, right?”

She looked up at him and nodded.

“Fresh start.” 

He leaned back in for a kiss and the two of them got lost in each other’s mouths, lips suckling and tongues swirling. Her hands found their way to his curls and his travelled down to her ass before giving it a squeeze, making her melt into him even more. Her legs came up and wrapped around his waist and he growled into the kiss, deepening it and holding her tighter. His dick rested between her cheeks as she rocked her hips back and forth along his length, grinding her clit into his pelvis as she let out a soft moan. She had missed how he felt inside her and couldn’t wait any longer, so she lifted herself up to place him at her entrance, and he rolled his hips forward to enter her slowly.

Ashanti hadn’t had sex with anyone since Zane, but her body immediately opened up for T’Challa, allowing him to slide into her with ease until they were connected pelvis to pelvis. Neither one of them realized the tears that fell from their eyes as they kissed and rocked into each other, letting the water hold them steady.

“Ndiyakuthanda” he whispered over and over in her ear, imprinting himself on her body once more as he nibbled on her earlobe.

Ashanti couldn’t open her mouth to form words, only moans of pleasure. She wanted to return the sentiment and tell him she loved him too, but the feeling of him inside her overwhelmed her senses. Tears continued to  stream down her face as the pain of being apart from him  the last year and a half washed away. Her body felt tingly all over and everywhere he touched her a searing heat followed, warming her skin from the inside out. 

It took most of T’Challa’s strength to keep his knees from buckling from the pleasure he was feeling , but the lake waters kept him upright. He felt at home inside her and he couldn’t help the words of praise and adoration falling from his lips.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“I missed you so much.”

“Mmm you feel so good around me.”

“I’m yours, Ashanti.”

The tension inside her rose with each whisper, and when she was finally able to find the strength to speak she pulled back to look at him, taking in the tears that had made their way down his beautiful face. 

“Ndiyakuthanda, T’Challa. With all my heart.”

Their lips smashed together and he lifted her higher, allowing the water to cushion her fall back down on him as he went impossibly deep inside her. His thrusts got rougher and she saw stars.

“Come with me, kitten.”

That was all Ashanti needed. She had missed so many things about T’Challa, but hearing him call her by her favorite nickname of his sent her over the edge.

Every time their hips met she grinded further into him and the tension rose in both of their bodies. His toes dug into the sediment as she wrapped her legs even tighter around him, both preparing for their orgasms. Ashanti was the first to break, his thrusts sending her over the edge. She called out his name as she released all over his dick, making his thrusts falter. Her walls contracted around him, locking him in place as he came deep inside her.

Neither could bear the thought of not touching the other, so they stayed just like that, trading light kisses and declarations of love as the waters around them stilled.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @ljstraightnochaser @determinednot2fall

#cecewritessometimes #black panther fic #t'challa #t'challa x oc #black!oc #playlist

[i-need-air]

Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader – Man on a mission.

Summary: Reader is an exchange student at UA, althought she could only stay one year. This is the journey and separation. What would Bakugou do once he realizes the girl he loves leaves? Could be angsty, but I promise a happy ending. 

Word count: ~3k.

When they first met neither of them cared about each other. The girl, too focused in eating the world and showing everyone her worth, barely gave him a glance the first day of school. Having transferred from the most prestigious American School for the year, working so, so hard to get there through a scholarship, [Y/N] was ready to kick ass, take names, get mediocre grades in Japanese History and get the attention of the top heroes of the world for her next internship. So, they just didn't care about each other.

But over time, as she got close to people in the 2-A class, even 2-B, her attitude and determination caught his attention. At first the girl pissed him off, being just an extra that will disappear in a year and will never see again, yet why was he staring so much? How come his eyes followed her figure as she walked away with Round-Face? How come he focused his attention on her too adorable giggle as dumbass Kaminari tried and failed miserably to flirt with her. And how come his friend pissed him off when he did that anyway? Oh, and let's not talk about how he never ever looked at her train, obviously not admiring her moves, her quirk, that look in her eyes. How he tried so fucking hard to not smile when she messed up a Japanese word and asked anyone around her how to pronounce it, giving no shits and only caring about getting better. He definitely didn't care about how she complimented his food that one time and Bakugou, the snake that he is, somehow manipulated Mina into convincing [Y/N] to cook with them, neither girls noticing him puppeteering the whole situation. So the [h/c] girl ended being part of the Bakusquad in record time, cooking and studying started to be a norm to do together. He didn't care that he got a whole zoo on crack in his stomach as she taught him how to cook food from her home-country or how good she smelled when she leaned closer to his frame, both sitting in his room, books spread around them as she questioned something about grammar. He definitely didn't lose his breath when she casually asked him if she could call him Katsuki, earning a grunt and a Do what you want. from the boy, ears flushed.

But Bakugou was hesitant. Of course he was, she was going to leave at the end of the year yet after the first internships started he realized that he's gonna miss that giggle. Her everything actually. And maybe they'll never see each other again. The boy had his own goals, he wanted to reach number one, he wanted to be the best. Was she a distraction? Because he never considered her one, daring to say he's more driven now... Was it a stretch to consider her made for him? Because that's what he thought all the time and these feelings were eating him alive. In a cool manner, he still had to maintain his reputation, excuse you.

[Y/N] [L/N] had a crush. A big crush on a rather abrasive young man. The moment she realized an overwhelming feeling engulfed her, taking away the very needed sleep as the following day she'd intern with the Hawks. Yet getting zero sleep that night, reality slapped her so hard she didn't even feel fatigue for 36 hours afterwards.

Bakugou Katsuki stole her heart and it was doomed for heartbreak. So separation and moving on was the plan.

Although it seemed like something went over her head. She fell in love with a stubborn motherfucker, yet neither of them knew at the time the lengths he'd go just to be together.

After some time of avoiding each other everything felt wrong. Studying wasn't the same, food didn't taste as good as before when she wasn't half moaning half praising his efforts, her cute way of pronouncing things actually turned into a good accent and even if a time came for the girl to ask for correction, [Y/N] decided to ask anyone else but him. Both were getting stronger separately, finding other training partners and things started to slowly go back to what it was at the beginning of the year, leaving a sour taste in Bakugou's mouth. How come she stole his heart? And how come now she was breaking it without noticing?

And here they were, together sitting outside their living quarters, just staring at the darkening skies, both lost in thought. Once strangers turned into friends and now back at the beginning. Yet the air was calm as it always was between them, like old friends meeting after years of not seeing each other even when they met every day.

"I'm gonna miss this place..." she muttered, gulping down the uneasiness rising in her throat. One more month and she'd leave. One more month and whatever they had would be erased forever. "I'm gonna miss you..." she whispered, deciding it was the time to take this burden off her chest once and for all. For herself, her well being, to explain her shitty attitude although his wasn't better. "I'm... I'm gonna miss your stupid face..." came out in another whisper, lips trembling as she avoided his eyes but when she heard a broken chuckle, strained and forced, her eyes snapped towards him.

His palm was covering his eyes, heart in his throat, not believing that everything lead to this moment.

"You spent too much time with me, dumbass." she blinked stupidity, precious orbs watching him carefully not even trying to hide the shine of tears appearing. "You sound like me now." she chucked too, bitter and quiet.

"I didn't spent enough time..."

And everything just turned back to what they had. As when they were alone in one of their rooms, sharing stories, watching movies, listening to music, each doing their own thing in harmony. So they talked, curfew approaching rapidly but there were many things unsaid. There was no clear confession but her little moment of truth opened a door that has been closed for both of them for a long time now. Actually... Not only the door, all the windows and doors were now wide opened, barricades and walls demolished down and everything flowed naturally. Who would've thought? Katsuki told himself while walking her to her door. He was soft, he has forgiven her in an instant for all the zig-zagging around him, feeling relieved since he felt guilt for doing the same. The stupid dancing around somehow ended when they reached her room, silence filling the air.

"You're a dumbass..." he said yet didn't know if it was thrown to [Y/N] or to himself. The rich laugh earned from her made him smirk. God, how much he missed it.

"You're the one to talk?" she pushed his shoulder gently, yet for the love of god, none knew what the fuck this conversation was really about. Before she could retreat the hand thought, he grabbed it, palms sweaty, fingers surprisingly gentle.

"[Y/N]." he responded, that zoo on crack in his stomach seemed to take life again. They didn't have much time anymore.

No verbal confession was made that night, both scared, terrified of voicing out anything that would instantly throw them back towards their concerns. Yet the sweet, slow kiss they shared got imprinted in their memories forever.

Her third year passed rather quickly, yet this time she was more glued to the phone. Many of her old friends noticed, inquiring who was the boy that she was talking to so much, all in teasing manner, none noticing how her lips would flatten and her expression fell for one second before answering back in a similarly teasing way too. Training, studying, going out with friends but never looking at another guy the way she looked at Bakugou Katsuki. Time flew while they both found a way to stay in touch, as limited as it was through the time zones and goals they individually had to reach.

Memories of their last month reconnecting and stepping up into a new world together, almost together but not official, sneaky kisses stolen from time to time, teasing each other but always with a hint of uncertainty, hugs that lasted a little bit too much yet none caring, cuddles and whispers when alone. But nothing else. Oh, how she regretted it. Not kissing him harder, not hugging him longer. Not telling him clearly that she loved him. Not crying when they parted ways because she sure as hell felt like doing so. They only promised to stay in touch when finally getting a time alone on that last fateful day. Being surrounded by her new friends crying around her, saying their goodbyes and promises of meeting somehow someday. That's when he snatched her for their final time alone. That's when she told him to not forget about them, yet again, never addressing their feelings. And he grunted at her, stoic, constipated looking, a face she'd normally make fun of if it weren't for the gravity of the situation.

But they messaged at odd times, they'd create inside jokes and they'd talk on the phone, his voice always doing things to her.

"I've seen the fight, you were amazing!" she said while carefully picking his face in the voice call, re-learning his expressions, remembering caressing the same cheekbones that now were bruised after a big fight in his internship with Endeavor that could all be seen online.

"Course I was, woman." he said, small yet boyish grin on his face. [Y/N] wanted to laugh, tease and be normal around him in this limited time together but Jirou's words stopped her.

"It's insane. The Bakugou Katsuki has a fan-base now! Like... Girls confess to him every week, he gets love letters! Kirishima makes fun of him but we all know he's jealous–"

Keeping in contact with the people from UA was a blessing and a curse, the latter because of those words. He changed so much, people were starting to see him for what he really was and a selfish voice inside of her was screaming that only her could know this side of him. And at the same time feeling she'd never deserve him.

Without being able to bite her tongue, she inquired.

"So I heard you have fangirls now." bright smile way too shiny, her discomfort was so obvious even through the screen.

"Hah?" was his only answer, leaning closer to his Webcam with a frown.

"A little birdie told me." she shrugged, playing it cool, perfectly knowing she'd never be able to play anything cool to save her life.

"And who gives a shit 'bout that?" I do... almost was her reply. But no, she had to squeeze her own heart and milk the pain out of it.

"I mean, haven't you thought about it?"

"Think about what?" he rasped rather angrily.

"You know, having a girlfriend and so on...?"

"What...?" his disbelief clear on his face, suddenly morphing into anger, now clear and raw. "What the fuck are you even saying, [Y/N]!?" he shouted, breathing heavily. "Are you trying to tell me somethin'? Cuz if you are, you better say it clearly!"

"I–" I'm jealous, you deserve someone by your side, I love you. Please, don't look at someone else. Please, don't kiss someone else... Please, be mine.

"Yano what, I'm done for today, fuck off, will ya?" and with a growl, he finished the call.

The promise she made herself about not crying was slowly breaking, her reflection in the now dark computer screen showing her idiotic self about to burst in tears but she clearly didn't reach that point when an incoming call interrupted her self pity.

"Like fucking shit I'd let go of what we have, dumb woman." is all she needed to hear that day and she did.

"So it seems I need to work a year in America before I could have a contract with any other Hero Agency. Hawks made it clear that he wants me back as his side-kick with Tokoyami but..." It hurt, stupid laws and contracts and scholarships and feelings. Stupid life and stupid everything.

"Only a year, huh?" he said on the other side of the line.

Looking for a roommate was tough. Wanting to put an ease on her rent and to save money for a future she was starting to see more clearly, the woman had some interviews with some potential roomies but none were convincing. Maybe she was picky, but she got this apartment first, picked the best room and her landlady gave her full permission to pick anyone for her. Which was a blessing, really.

So the cat girl with 4 cats was an option. The guy that eyed her a little bit too much was out of the equation. There was another guy scheduled to come see the apartment that afternoon and, the best part, she was getting a package from Katsuki. He offered, actually. Said something about new house gift, brushing it off casually with his trademark snide remark about how he'd send her some cleaning shit. What an asshole, but hell, even if he did send her cleaning products, she'd cry out of happiness.

The guy talked to her through messages, asking basic questions and nothing more. Time to give another tour and talk about rent was coming yet she silently decided to give this guy a nice brief chat, throw him out and look for a girl roommate, even if Bakugou said it didn't matter and should interview both. "You know, to get it over with." little voice still screaming she'd mind if he had a woman as a roomie, but then again, they were nothing...

As 3 P.M. approached, she got a message.

From [Random dude #2 David]:

"I'll be late, hope you don't mind."

Of fucking course he was going to be late. The first impression? Annoying. What if she had things to do? Like wait for a package and then call Katsuki to open it with him there. Random David was pissing her off already.

Half an hour later the doorbell interrupted her thoughts as she stared blankly at her phone. The last messages she sent her... friend didn't actually reach him. And it's been 10 hours? Maybe he was called on a mission. But already? Endeavor surely didn't waste time, huh?

With a sigh she opened the door, ready to greet Random David when her eyes landed on a suitcase in front of her door. Her ears perked at the sound of another suitcase rolling towards her door, basically making her freak out because Random David was definitely not going to live with her now. And slowly, a guy came in her field of vision and the world stopped functioning.

Bakugou Katsuki, with a box over one of his shoulders and as she guessed, another suitcase in hand, reached her door, elevator ding snapping her out of her... uh... dream? Fantasy? Back shirt, dark jeans, messy hair and The Look™ he always had for her.

"Well, I'm here to look at the apartment." he grinned, about to burst into an ugly laughter at her dumb face. Everything until this point was worth it because that face? That face was all he needed. Yeah, the dumb mouth opening and closing, eyes big as plates, frozen in place.

"If you..." she muttered. "If you fucking tell me you're David, I will end you..."

"Ya better not call me that, woman." he said, taking a step towards her, putting the baggages down.

"Are you really here...?"

"What does it look like, huh? Now let me in, I need to sit down, I fucking hate long flights."

Rushing him in, hands trembling, words stuttering, [Y/N] [L/N] was in awe at the man in front of her. She knew, she definitely knew he was absolutely amused by her reaction but there was no helping it.

"You're here..." pulling him inside by his hand, it was so warm, just as always. "Holy shit, you're here."

"Aha, but don't get used to it, woman." he said, leaving the suitcases behind him, arms just wrapping loosely around her waist.

"Huh?" he touched her face, the scent of nitroglycerin invading her nostrils. Same scent she missed so much in the past year.

"Only for a year, then I'm taking you back home with me, understood?"

Although she didn't reply, she couldn't, as she only pulled the collar of his shirt towards her, ready to make up for all the time they threw away. So their lips met and their new life started.

Endeavor worked closely with various hero agencies in America and Bakugou Katsuki asked to be sent there for a year, or more so demanded, leaving the older man speechless. Yet with a single word from Shouto, everything was set running and Bakugou knew he'd have yo return the favor to Icy-Hot someday, but for now she was all that mattered. So when he helped her apartment hunt (even long distance), when he told her to look into this or that Hero agencies (knowing they'd work close to his), when he'd tell her to not mind male roommates (even if he minded, he minded very much), it was all towards the surprise for her.

Bakugou Katsuki was a man on a mission and he realized that in his third year at UA. He was going to be number one. He was going to be the best hero ever. And he was going to have [Y/N] by his side. Always.

Notes: I'm leaving this here since idk man, I had too much coffee and wrote this without blinking. Correlation with the notes? Don't question it. Anyway!! Pretty please, tell me what you thought of it and if anyone here knows how to add the Read More mark on phone, I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd explained me how. I'm way too old for this, I swear, lmfao. Thank you for reading, seriously. Hope you enjoyed and have a great day! ♥

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #Bnha #Mha #my hero academia #my hero acadamy #boku no hero academia #bakugou is fucking extra #F!reader #Fanfic #Bnha scenario #Bnha fanfic #Long distance relationship but there's no relationship because plot reasons #Bakugou katsuki x reader #Angst #Fluff #Noire writes

[silkylious]

Pro heroes Katsuki , Deku, Kiri trending on Twitter after posting a video of them and their s/o doing the baby mama dance how they react and

A/N: Thank you for the request! since you didn’t specify if you wanted a scenario or headcanons, i’ll do headcanons since they're easier for me to write, hope thats okay!

also i have a todoroki oneshot in the works, so stay tuned for that!

Kirishima Eijirou

Kirishima was probably the one to bring up the dance in the first place. A toothy grin stretched his face as he leaped over the back of the couch, where you’d been enjoying a quaint read, a dainty hand caressing your engorged stomach. His hand snatching the book right out from your grasp, he didn’t give you a chance to respond before he practically shoved his phone in your face. An eyebrow raised skeptically at his antics, shifting your gaze to the screen in front of you. 

“Eiji, what’s this...?” He explained the challenge, his sharky smile only widening the further he explained. You were a little hesitant at first, and as you were about to voice your apprehension, your eyes caught sight of his smile, childlike and boyish. Fuck. How could you say no to that?

You spent a good half an hour trying to get the dance moves right, Eijirou cheering you on while fucking up his own moves. 

Kirishima can’t dance to save his life. You can’t convince me otherwise. But did that stop him? Nope.

He adjusted the camera on make-shift tripod, consisting of boxes and other random objects. he started the timer and you two began busting out moves, Eijirou still lacking all the skill needed for this exercise, his moves choppy and uncoordinated, though his enthusiasm made up for his amateurism. The precious grin adorning his face made you glad you took him up on his offer.

By the end of the routine, both of you were left panting for oxygen. He heaved a breathless chuckle before pulling you into his grip from behind, his large hands gingerly stroking your tummy, his lips pressed lovingly to your cheek. With his signature million watt smile ever present on his face, he sighed out words of tranquil, “Thanks for doing this, babe,” he pressed another exaggerated kiss to your face.

The video was posted on his official Twitter, right before you went to bed.

The next morning, no words could articulate the sheer affection you felt bubbling up in your chest when you opened your eyes to the sight of Eijirou’s pure jubilation. Just the look of unbridled happiness on his face made you fall head over heels for him all over again. While you were busy ogling him, his own heart accelerated with uninhibited pride and love as his eyes scanned the screen in his hands.

Kirishima loved to show you off, how could he not? you were amazing in every sense of the word, and you were all his, to love and to cherish. So you can only imagine the utter joy he felt when he saw #TinyRiot trending on twitter.

He skimmed through the countless replies and comments of people congratulating the couple and clowning on his less than impressive choreography, some were from his coworkers, some were from his fans, he replied to them as best as he could with delight radiating off of him. He continued going through his mentions until he eventually felt the heated stare on his face. Turning to his side, he finally met your eyes, your rounded figure peacefully nestled beside him on the bed, your stare so full with love and mirth it made his chest tighten, almost suffocating him.

Kirishima has always been good with words, and people in general but in that moment no matter how hard he tried to speak nothing would come out of his mouth, captivated by your adoring gaze. You looked at him like he was your entire universe. And he couldn’t handle that, the feeling building in his gut becoming too much for him.

 He had to let it out, less he spontaneously combust. Since he knew his voice would fail him if he tried to speak, he settled for pulling you in for a passionate kiss, hoping it would convey all the words he couldn’t say.

Midoriya Izuku

When you first approached him with the idea he had been a bit apprehensive. Don’t get him wrong, heaven knows he’d do anything to keep you content. But being in the position he was in, Izuku was painfully, sadly aware of the target put on not only his back, but his family as well. 

He didn’t want to expose you and his child to the danger that came with his blinding spotlight.

Izuku wears his heart on his sleeve. No matter how hard he tried to mask it, the boy was an open book, so you could immediately sense the reluctance on his face when you mentioned posting the video online.

You knew of the complications that came with dating a Pro-hero, the number one Pro-hero, so you were perfectly understanding of his hesitance and didn’t push it further. Though you couldn’t help the disappointment that flooded your features either.

The look of mild discontent on your face didn’t sit well with him, his conscious already conquered by guilt. As his green irises descended onto your pregnant belly, something in him snapped.

He wanted to provide his unborn son with a normal childhood, well as normal as someone like him could. And he wouldn’t be able to do that if he kept barring his family from enjoying the simple delicacies of life in fear of getting them hurt. He was a hero, for god’s sake! The arrival of a new addition in his tight-knit family only meant that he’d have to work harder to forge the perfect world for them, for his son.

His habit of mumbling his thoughts had you fully aware of the dilemma going on in his head, and you knew if you didn’t stop him now nothing else would. His forehead was flicked by dainty, soft fingers, snapping him out of his trance, “It’s fine, ‘Zuku, don’t worry about it.” too late, he’d already made up his mind.

Now with his previous dread thrown out the window, he grabbed your hands and hopped off the couch where he’d been previously watching some All Might docuseries, a determined look in his wide verdant eyes.

You spent a good hour practicing the moves, Deku was holding up just fine, the dance classes he’d taken with Mina during the Cultural Festival doing a good number on him. With enough effort and unrelenting obstinacy, he’d mastered the routine in record time. Now with the camera set up, it was time to preform.The whole dance, a gentle twinkle lit up his face, he truly couldn’t be more content watching you dance your heart out without a care. 

The clip was posted, and you two were off to prepare dinner, ignorant to the fucking storm of notifications blowing his phone up. 

Now hear me out; Deku absolutely fanboys over All Might in interviews or in public. His fans had already noticed the striking similarities between their quirks and they were well aware of his love of the retired Pro, so he was dubbed “All Might Jr.” His heart almost went into cardiac arrest when he saw #SmallMight trending on Twitter. Poor boy had just finished washing the dishes, he went to check his phone only for all colour to leave his face before he was red as a damn tomato.

You peered over his shoulder to see what had gotten him so flustered only to bring your fist to your mouth in a fruitless attempt at silencing your fit of giggles.

Now as blissful as it was to have a combination of his fans and colleagues (who had already known about the pregnancy) congratulating him, he knew it wouldn’t take long for the media to scrutinise his decision, bringing unwanted discourse into his personal life. But he was more than ready for that, after all, he had vowed to himself that he would protect you and his child, whether from villains or from mainstream media, he would let you both live your lives without any inhibitions.

Bakugo Katsuki  

Katsuki flat out refused when you initially asked him. Which was to be expected. Katsuki is private person when it comes to personal matters, you literally had to beg him to tell your friends about the pregnancy (honestly you were about ready to pull up a PowerPoint presentation on why Friends Matter and They Deserve to Know Important News™) 

The rejection didn’t stop you from nagging him about it though. 

He was in a similar situation to Deku, being the number two Pro-hero and the symbol of victory shined a light on him, for better or worse, he didn’t want to expose you and his daughter to the dark facets of his career. That and he did think it was stupid. He didn’t understand the appeal of sharing something so special with the general public, it was your private lives dammit! 

“Why do you wanna do it so bad?” it was a valid question, though phrased with overbearing aggression, he was getting fed up with your persistence. He immediately dialed down his abrasiveness when you flinched, your gaze descending to the floor, your hormones making you more susceptible to his harsh mannerisms.

“I just thought it would be cute to do...” Your voice trailed off, and his mind berated him as he watched your bottom lip quiver. He just couldn’t resist you, could he?

Eventually, he gave in, but he made it a point to spend as little time as humanly possible on the dance. Which was honestly very easy for him, the guy is a natural at almost everything, fucking figures he can dance. It made you a bit jealous how good he effortlessly was.

Bakugo did nothing half-assed, this was no exception. As the routine progressed, he loosened up more, almost enjoying the exercise, wouldn’t admit it though, he’s very adamant about making this seem like a chore even though he relished in that bright smile of yours. Tsundere headass.

The recording went by without a hitch, Katsuki putting his all into the choreography and slipping you a few gentle caresses here and there. Overall, the cheeky grin on your face made it worth the trouble.

He spurned posting the video on his account, so it ended up being posted on yours, you had a decent following and in minutes the #MiniSplosion was trending. 

Even he couldn’t deny the wave of pride that puffed up his chest, reading the influx of comments bleeding in. He loved showing you off, but his position made it damn near impossible to do that. He wanted to protect you, he figured after this he’d just have to work harder to keep his family safe.

You totally teased him about being a softie on the inside, but you didn’t push it too much, not wanting to tarnish the mood. He’d reply back with some empty remark but the soft tug at his lips, the tenderness in his stare and absence of his usual frown betrayed him, god he was such a sap for you. Pulling you in for an abnormally sweet peck, vastly different from his usual ferocious, passion filled kisses, he flicked your forehead and muttered, “You happy now?”

The surmounting adoration in his heart partially scared him, he couldn’t believe he fell that hard for someone. Yet he wouldn’t have it any other way, he couldn’t even imagine the idea of being without you, without his daughter. He was lucky to land himself such a strong, patient and kind partner, one that would stick it out with him through the end, and now he was undoubtedly going to flaunt it.

@Ground_Zero: My babygirls <3

...

Let’s just say it didn’t take long for #SoftGroundZero to go viral too.

#kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #deku x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #kirishima headcanons #midoriya headcanons #bakugo headcanons

[crystalessenceswrites]

Shadows- Chapter Three

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: Dark themes, canon-typical violence, descriptions of a dead body, desecration and disposal of a dead body. Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] Cross-posted on AO3

Satisfaction was not the right word, but it was the closest you could put your finger on as you watched the Mandalorian walk away. You had escaped his clutches twice now. While that was two more times that you would ever want to have a run-in with one of his kind there was still a sense of pride in being able to outmaneuver him. He dedicated his life to killing your kind but here you were, alive, while he was leaving without his target. A victory for you and Kira, no matter how small a success. Though that victory came with a bit of a mess. You and Kira needed to get the hell out of dodge. The gunshots and shouting would have already drawn attention from folks in the pub or out on the street. Which is exactly why you did not carry firearms for most jobs. Too messy.

“Hold this tight.” You’d had a spare scarf in your bag which was coming in handy. It would help staunch Kira’s bleeding long enough to get her into the clinic, so long as you had it tight enough.

Kira waves you off, “stop hovering. Take care of the body.”

As much as you didn’t need your partner bleeding out, she had a point. You had a body to dispose of.

There’s a routine to it. Stripping the outer layers, shoes, valuables and identifiers. The office had people who properly disposed of identification and could make nearly anyone disappear from any record or database. One less hassle you had to deal with.

You spread out the man’s coat and roll the cooling body onto it before ripping off the bottom of his shirt. Next comes the hand. Every slayer seems to have a preferred limb of extremity for proof of death. Some liked ears, fingers and toes, a tongue or an eyeball. You never could find the will to get that up close and personal with a corpse. A whole hand or foot was your preferred token. Easy enough to sever at the joint and it left plenty to identify the bounty with, keeping confusion to a minimum when you handed it over. In comparison it was just a bit harder to carry around and hide.

The man is only a few minutes dead, so the chop-job at the wrist makes a mess all over the bounty’s jacket. How you wished you had your clean up kit with you. Or more time. This was too rushed to be a proper job. The only upside to your location was its convenience-one dumpster at the ready. You toss the body, jacket and shoes before wrapping the hand up in the torn shirt. The last place you want to put the limb is in your purse but you’re out of options. Gross. Normally you had a proper bag prepared for this.

At least the bounty money would pay for a new bag.

Destruction was the last step. Fire was not your preferred method, it left too much behind, but you kept a lighter on your person at all times. Just in case. Though just a little zippo wasn’t going to cut it for a dumpster fire. Alcohol made a pretty decent accelerant and you were standing just outside a bar.

“You done yet?”

“Shove off,” you roll your eyes at the blonde. “You’re not exactly being much help.”

“Uh, bullet wound?”

“Excuses, excuses…”

Rummaging around the loading dock doesn’t help much, there’s no booze left out, which was probably smart on the pubs account. Most of what they had stored in the back looked like kitchen supplies and extra gas canisters for the bar. Those would provide more fire power than you were looking for and draw more attention than was good for such a rushed job. They would have to be your last resort.

“Hey Kira, what’s the flash point of cooking oil?”

“Average to low, I think.”

“Perfect.” You feel a little bad stealing the barrel but you’re in too much of a rush to dwell on it. “Drape my coat over your shoulders and take my purse, head back in and wait for me by the entrance. I’ll be there in a sec’.”

Kira winces a bit as she situates herself. Your coat just covers the blood stain blossoming across her shirt. Hopefully, no one in the pub looks too closely. Or checks the bag. “Got it.”

It’s not as easy as you’d like to hoist the plastic barrel into the dumpster, but you manage, albeit with very little grace. Popping the seal quickly covers the corpse and the rest of the dumpster’s contents in oil. All it takes is you dropping you lit zippo in for it to all go up in flames. Works almost a little too well.

.

“Why am I not surprised it was you two to run into the Mandalorian.” Rosalyn clicks her tongue as she goes about fixing Kira’s arm up with ever steady hands.

“(Y/N)’s a Mandalorian magnet, apparently.”

“Please don’t say that,” you groan. That was the last thing you needed. Mando had cornered you twice now and you did not want to see if the third time was charm for him. You wanted nothing more to do with the mysterious dark-haired man.

“But also an escape artist!” Kira grins despite Rosalyn’s ministrations.

The healer frowns, “she shouldn’t have to be. None of you should have to be. You’ve all got enough to worry about.”

Rosalyn, ever the worrier. Her big heart was the reason she became a nurse instead of a slayer in the first place. You’re not sure where you and the others would be without her. Scratch that, you knew Kira would be dead in a ditch without Rosalyn. She’d patched her up more times than either of you could count.

“We choose this life, Ros. We know the risks- Mandalorians and hunters are part of that risk.”

“None of us chose to be born into this life, to live in hiding from humans who want to kill us because we’re different,” Rosalyn’s voice cracks at the end, her eyes downcast.

She’s not wrong. None of you asked to be half-bloods, to be stuck in the in-between. There were few paths in life for your kind, all full of their own risks. But that was how your cards had fallen. You tried not to dwell on it, but it was not always easy. Some of the things you saw brought your circumstances to the forefront, the cruel indiscriminate nature of hunters being one of them. That had always been the biggest thorn in Kira’s side. Why she was so abrasive and hostile towards them.

“ ’M sorry, Ros. I didn’t mean it like that.”

The nurse forces a smile, “I know…I guess we’re all a little on edge lately.”

“That’s an understatement.” Kira gestures to her now properly bandaged arm, “think I will be now too.”

Rosalyn rolls her eyes, “just pay more attention. Or I’m not fixing you up next time you get shot.”

.

The compound was nearly up and running at full capacity. Families were settling in, supply stores were filling up, the armory stocked and so on. Din allowed himself a moment of pride watching the foundlings training in the yard- the next generation of Mandalorian hunters. It felt like lifetimes ago that he was one of them, day after day of drilling and sparring next to his brothers and sisters. Now Paz leads the training, passing on the wisdom and skills that had been passed to them by the warriors that came before. Passing on the knowledge of the monsters that stalk the world around them.

Monsters like her.

(Y/N)

That was what the blonde had called her.

Slayers, they had called themselves. None of what they had been taught mentioned slayers. There was nothing about monsters killing other monsters. Yet they’d called it their job. Were they some sort of twisted police force?

She certainly did not appear the type. But that’s how they all were. Appearing like something they’re not. Walking around in human skin, the monster swimming just below the surface. Din just had yet to figure what monster was lurking behind her sharp eyes.

“Din Djarin.”

If there was one person in the compound who knew more then he did, more than Paz did, it was the Armorer. Their coverts alor.

“Another successful hunt.”

The words taste like acid on his tongue, “no… I was interrupted.”

“Interrupted?”

“The woman who aided in the escape of the club owner showed up again.”

Armorer pauses, her face pensive, an expression Din does not see her wear often. “Is she tracking you?”

“No.” There was no way (Y/N) had managed to follow him. She’d fled after their first encounter anyways. “She said she was not our enemy.”

“Oh? You’re sure she’s one of them?”

Din nods, “I’ve seen her magic. And she called herself a slayer.”

Armorer’s eyebrows shoot up, “slayer?”

“Is that familiar to you?”

“Only in very old stories,” she muses. “They mimic us in some ways. They rid their kind of nuisances, ones who threaten to expose them, if the old stories are to be believed. I have never seen or heard of their kind otherwise.”

Nuisances. That seems to be what (Y/N) had been doing last night. Attempting to remove a sick criminal whose actions threatened to expose humans to the truth. So why had he never run into one of them until now? He was not new to hunting monsters. Din had a number of years under his belt now -that’s why he was the best in the covert- and he’d never seen or heard of them until he collided with her. Where exactly had they come from and why?

There always seems to be more mysteries with her involved.

“We will need to be vigilant for her and any others on future hunts.”

Din agrees. There could be no more surprises and no more escaped targets. He would not allow it.

.

“It is rather concerning on both accounts.”

You almost felt as if you and Kira were sitting in the principal’s office, about to be scolded for some dumb prank you’d pulled. Not that you’d ever pulled any pranks in school, or gotten in trouble for that matter. The circumstances of your identity meant you did everything in your power to stay under the radar. Quiet, polite, kept your head down. Your principal probably would not have recognized you back then. Yet you still couldn’t shake the odd sense of déjà vu you felt sitting Boss’s office.

“We’ll pass on the information about the bartender to the knights but if he’s gone this long without detection, it won’t be long before he comes back to us on the bounty list.”

“He’ll have a harder time hiding without his partner around to help.” It’s not much but at least even Kira was trying to be optimistic.

“We can hope,” Boss nods. “As for this Mandalorian… it appears your original concerns have been realized, (Y/N). We may need to be more proactive in monitoring the hunter, lest we have another Fett situation on our hands.”

Boba Fett had been a thorn in your office’s side for years before he’d died. Some of his targets had been known criminals with outstanding bounties, much like this new Mando, but others had been innocents, cryptos just going about their lives alongside humans. The community had been up in arms but there was not anything the office was allowed to do. Fett was human. It was the unfortunate circumstances you all had to navigate in your line of work. Your job was to catch criminal bounties, slayers had no power to protect other cryptos. Despite knowing that, locals had become rather upset with the inaction. There was a number of gathering places slayers had been banned from at the time in retribution. Time had smoothed over relations but the new Mando threatened to dredge everything back up again.

“Any luck on tracking down his informant?” If you could take his contact out of the mix maybe the Mando would skip town. There were plenty of other communities for him to terrorize. Other slayer’s bounties for him to steal.

Boss’s frown deepens, “nothing yet. The knights have been notified and we’ve got a few local leaders keeping their ears open. Someone will hear something soon.”

It had been over a month, if no one had heard anything by now you did not have much hope of anything new coming to light. You didn’t have it in you to contradict the old man though. No one wanted to admit they had hit a dead end.

“Is that all we can do? Pass it over to the knights and wait until someone else gets hurt?” Kira’s frustrations mirror your own. You both had trained for years before being allowed your three-year apprentice ship. To put everything you had into protecting your kind and taking down criminals and then to not have the power to deal with a Mandalorian was maddening. Just waiting on someone else made you want to tear your hair out.

#fic: Shadows #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian au #the mandalorian fanfiction #x reader #fanfiction #modern au #enemies to lover #monsters and monster hunters #chapter three #crystalessences writes

[emerald-studies]

Racism in Education

June 27, 2020

Day 6 of 7

[ These are just some thoughts I have in my head about this topic, it isn’t meant to be a purely academic discussion. It’s meant to be a conversation to learn about another perspective. ]                                                

—-    

Ok this will be my most challenging post. This is a long read but I’d appreciate you reading it all because I’ve been doing free emotional labor for almost a month and if you want to be an ally, that means learning from other perspectives. So please read. This drained me so much to write, please make it worth it. 

You have the time, please read.

As I stated in my intro, I moved from a very conservative State (I don’t even want to say the State because I hate it so much.) to Washington State. I moved after graduating online school a year ago. 

Growing up in that State I was almost always the only Black girl in my class. For my whole educational career. I hated when we would discuss the civil rights movement because I could feel my White peers staring at me, like I was the face of my race. 

It was junior year that broke me. 

I began the year optimistic. I always did, even though I had experienced racism before each year, pushing me to move to 4 different schools in 4 years. 

I moved to a school in a rural area with a lot of mormons and maybe 5 Black people in the whole, huge school. 

It was in September that my mental health plummeted. I don’t know why. I guess I was overwhelmed. I was in an AP US History class and there was work over the summer that everyone else did, but I didn’t. I had just gotten there, after all. I didn’t have the textbook. That class was such a heavy workload that we were having a quiz every other day, 1 test a week, and I was trying to study for a test that my peers had months to study for, and already took. 

I attempted to take my life, but I knew I didn’t really mean it. I’ll be honest about that. I just wanted everything to stop so I could catch my breath. 

I went to the ER on a Thursday night. My Mom drove me. 

We sat in the ER for a little bit and then I was taken to a little room where a nurse came to talk to me. BTW I have never had a good interaction with a nurse.

This nurse came in and basically shamed me. 

“You’re so young. You have your whole life ahead of you. You don’t need to do this to yourself.”

Yeah, no shit. I thought about that every day. My grades, getting into college, getting into law school.... that’s the point. I was overwhelmed. 

She suggested that I punch a pillow if I “Got upset” because that’s what her daughter does. 

Fuck off. 

The Doctor came in and he gave me butterfly bandages and he was so much more understanding, shockingly. (I’ve shadowed Surgeons and Doctors and they can be a little abrasive).

I liked that the Doctor fixed me up. I liked having this wrap around my wrist. I felt like I could move on. Like I let something out. 

The Doctor asked if I needed to stay at this place that dealt with cases like mine. 

I said,

 “No.”

I couldn’t have that on my record for what I want to do. So, I went home.

I took the Friday off and my Mom visited the school to let them know what happened. I was already preparing for pity.

I had to come in on Monday to set up a 504 (students with disabilities act) for depression. I don’t think I had depression, but whatever. I dropped out of AP US History.

They made accommodations for me: more time on tests, working in the library, more time on assignments, etc.

I want you to know that I did not touch those accommodations for 5 months. 

I knew I didn’t need them. I maintained a 3.8 GPA.

I sat in a room with all 8 of my teachers (we had a block schedule 4 classes per day alternating), seeing all of them look at me with disgusting levels of pity.

They each talked to me in private saying things like,

“If you ever need anything, let me know.”

“I’m here for you.”

“You matter.”

I thought,

 “Hm ok, that’s nice.”. 

I went on for months without using my accommodations and practically wooping my “normal” classmates in intellectual discussions.

But then the casual racism I experienced was escalating. 

First, in the beginning of the year, my AP US History teacher put his hand on my head and said to a student,

“If you really believe that, Faith would be a slave right now.”

(I don’t remember what the hell we were even talking about)

Then I got little questions/comments like,

“Why do you dress White?”

“Cracker is just as offensive as the n-word”

But now we were going into Black History Month. My new history teacher was an old White Man and we were talking about the civil rights movement, while in English we were reading “Black Like Me” with my blonde, Female, millennial teacher.

I nailed everything in the civil rights movement discussions. The teacher loved me. I nailed the conversations about “Black Like Me”. 

But....I don’t know. The environment got really toxic. There was more racism, gaslighting, slurs. Every. single. day. It could break anyone.

I would be on the brink of tears in class every day. 

Guess who didn’t notice? 

All 8 of those concerned teachers. 

They don’t give a shit. 

My grades were still pretty good, but I started working in the library. I couldn't be around all of those racist peers. 

While in the library, my counselor would come in and interrogate me. 

“How long have you been in here?”

“Have you tried, really tried to go to class?”

Of course I tried! I felt like I wanted to be dead and so I left. That’s what the 504 Plan was for. Again, I hadn’t touched my accommodations for months so I thought maybe these grown adults would use their tiny brains and think,

“Huh maybe she needs help.”

But no. 

I would go to the counselor almost every day and say 

“I’m not doing well.”

And she’d ask,

“What does that mean?”

Ok...so I have to tell this Woman that I feel like dying but not at my own hand? Because she can’t use social cues and read my face stained with tears?

I couldn’t say anything. 

She said,

“What can we do to keep you going here?”

I said,

“I don’t know”

Because that’s not my job.

Then it happened. 

My history teacher was talking about affirmative action.

He said,

“If I worked at a bank for 30 years and went to work at another bank, FAITH would get a job over me because she’s a BLACK WOMAN. Do you get that? She covers TWO minorities!” 

He said this while pointing his wrinkled finger in my face.

None of my peers said anything.

I replied with,

“Well, what are my qualifications?”

He ignored me.

He went on a rant teaching his opinions, not facts. So I wrote down what he said on sticky notes. 

I called my Mom at break and asked her

“Is that racist? Do I do anything?”

I was so desensitized to racism I couldn’t tell anymore.

My White Mom, my awesome Mom said,

“YES.”

I went to the Vice Principal and reported the teacher and gave her the sticky notes. 

The next day we got an email from the principle saying that the teacher said, he never said anything about me.

So I was a liar?

To get evidence, I recorded the whole next class. I was scared every minute that he would find out. 

He didn’t. And he said more awful things.

I had concrete proof.

We told the Principal and he ignored me. My Mom emailed the superintendent (very high up person in the school district) and oh now he responds? 

They basically said,

“We gave him a warning, he won’t do it again.”

Ok so he just will hide his racism now. Just remember, teachers legally aren’t allowed to teach their opinion. The Supreme Court deemed it unconstitutional to teach opinions.

I was still required to go to this racist Man’s class. I still answered every question he posed to the class and he recognized my intelligence. 

So WHY?

WHY me?

The whole year he loved having me as a student and then....that?

Moving on to my English class.

We had to do a cultural experience trip and so my acquaintance and I went to the Black History Museum. Because I’m Nigerian-American. I do identify as Black though because everyone assumes it anyways, but I wanted to learn more about the history in my city.

We were required to make presentations talking about the experience we had. I decided to add a little twist. 

I made a whole slide in my slideshow dedicated to every racist thing said to me in that class. 

The slide was met with laughter because racism is just so funny.

My teacher said nothing. 

So I, the student, the minor in the room, had to say,

“I see you laughing but this is why I’m leaving this school. This is serious.”

Nothing from my teacher. 

Cut to maybe a week later and I was done. I was sitting in my English class about to burst. My acquaintance asked me,

“Are you doing ok?”

I replied,

“No. Absolutely not.”

A classmate checked in on me, while all my 8 teachers who actually knew about my attempt on my life didn’t.

We went outside and I decided to leave the school that day. Three weeks before summer break. I couldn’t be in either class anymore. I felt my brain rotting from being exposed to the absolute shit that those students/teachers would spew, every day.

I lost my 3.8 GPA

I lost my credits for the semester.

The racist teacher is still working.

I had to go online.

It happened again.

Another racist history teacher. 

Wasn’t removed.

I graduated with a lower GPA.

Didn’t apply to my dream school.

I have the trauma seared into my brain. I’m terrified of taking another history class. Terrified.

Ok, that’s it. If you made it this far, thank you. It took me awhile to write this. I hope this gave you another perspective. 

--

So.... discussion time. 

Let me know what you think here

I’d like to hear from you since I delved into my trauma. 

I don’t think I’ll ever tell this story again, it makes me sick and tired. But I’ll answer questions/asks.

If you have a lot of White guilt and wanna do something, you could donate some reparations to my venmo lol: 

@faithrebecca1397 (last 4 digits are 4809)

or paypal

http://www.paypal.me/faithrebecca1397

Edit: People are asking me if they can reblog this. YES PLEASE REBLOG. It’s important to let people know that all types of racism are alive and well.

#blm #black lives matter #education #academia #black women matter #discussion #racism #history #mental health

[marshmallowprotection]

Cereus

Pairing: Choi Saeran/Reader

Description: You never knew what you wanted to do with your life from day one. It just seemed like there were too many things to pick from and all you knew was that you didn’t want to be bound by the expectations of your parents. So, you decide to head west like the rest of those that are seeking new lives and changes without knowing what to expect or your plan. You just never thought that you would find yourself ensnared in the rope of fate on your journey to find yourself.

Word Count:  9271

Cowboy Saeran x Reader

[Read On AO3]

Previous Chapter

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Chapter Eleven 

The scream that escaped you didn’t sound like it was your voice. 

It was your voice crying out in response to the scene in front of you as Saejoong pointed the stolen gun at Saeran and pressed his finger right against the trigger.

 He looked as though he was about to pull the trigger and let it kill one of his sons, only for Saeyoung to brandish his pistol in recording time to shoot Saejoong’s hand, causing his hand to recoil and lose his grip on the weapon. 

The bullet that he’d nearly discharged would’ve been squarely in Saeran’s head if it hadn’t been for his brother’s quick thinking. You could hear the desperate air that he breathed into his lungs next to you as if he didn’t know if he had stopped the bullet from hurting his twin. 

He muttered something in relief underneath his breath that sounded like a prayer. 

Everything happened so quickly that you didn’t fully process it as it was happening. 

Saejoong had been knocked away as he clutched his wounded hand and stumbled back a few steps in pain to keep himself from falling into the river. The gun knocked from his hands that had belonged to Saeran, fully changing the position they had been when you had arrived at the scene. Saeran wasn’t moving. 

His eyes were still wide and he looked shocked, shocked that he had come so close to his death right in front of you… right in front of his brother. It had nearly happened and he just… almost let it take him down. 

You had just been saved from dying yourself so you were quite of sorts and your legs wouldn’t be able to carry you to him as much as he wanted. 

You wanted to rush to his side but you knew your body would stop you. No matter how much you wanted to be there by his side. You slid down from Big Dipper and clutched your hand against the horse, breathing deeply as you strained to stay upright on your feet, desperate to run to his side, and worried for his safety. 

Saeyoung was faster than you were, dismounting his horse and hurrying to his brother’s side as quickly as his feet could take him. He pressed his hand against Saeran’s shoulder and shook him a bit to get his attention, his body screaming at him to seek retribution for what had nearly happened to his twin in the time that he left him to handle this part of the plan. 

You could see the tension in his body from where you were. He had told you how he wanted to protect his little brother from harm. When you were rushing back to this area as fast as you could before it was too late, you could still hear the determination in his voice as he told you everything. His heart simply and truly heavy at the truth in his veins. 

—

You clutched tightly around Seven’s waist, “I saw all of it. Our mother kept us locked away our entire lives and kept that truth of his infidelity over his head to get money to pay for her drinkin’ habits. We didn’t mean shit to that woman. She just had to get her fix and we had to stay alive ‘nough to let her have it. She kept Saeran tied up for most of the day, tying the knots so tight that I couldn’t even loosen ‘em.” 

The wind whipped against your face as the faint chill of the water still clung to you like a silent whisper reminding you how close you had come to losing your life. You didn’t want to think about it. You just wanted to see Saeran. “That’s…” 

“Horrible, I know. Y’ain’t gotta say sorry about it. Y’ain’t the one that mistreated us. If anythin’, you’ve done everythin’ for me and Saeran,' ' His grip was firm on the reins of his horse. You looked up at the back of his head, seeing that familiar red color looking back at you. “And don’t say ya’ didn’t do nothin’ for me, you did everythin’ for me. You saved my brother from bein’ isolated and afraid. I ain’t seen him as happy as he is now before.” 

You shut your eyes to ward off some of the lulls from the heat of the sun. 

You weren’t sure that you had changed anything. 

You were just a fleeting moment in Saeran’s life. You believed in him more than any other person and you did… want to think that he believed in you, too, but it was hard to know when he always kept you on your toes and dancing to try and find your answers. 

He made you feel like you were alive, and at the same time, he made you feel like you were deep in the heat of the moment. He was everything. He was everything to you and you wanted to see him smile in the sunshine. 

You wanted to see him be himself without fearing getting killed or hurt because he wasn’t fast enough to protect himself. 

Or, the people that he cared about. 

You wanted to see that man that claimed to be fighting for the greater good of everyone around him smile. You wanted to see him stand tall and prove that he wasn’t the villain that everyone made him out to be. Most of all, you just wanted Saeran to see that you saw him as more than just Unknown, so that he may see himself as who he truly was for the first time. 

“Ya’ may not see it, but I do. I see the way that he’s looked at ya’... and I’ve never seen him look at anybody like that. You make him smile again and… that’s all I ever wanted for him. I’ve been fightin’ for so damn long for my brother to be happy since I was born and everyone has tried to stop me from doin’ it. But I won’t stop fightin’ for him. I know he’s strong, and I know that he’s capable.” 

“But, that doesn’t change the fact that he’s my baby brother n’ I want to protect him. Saejoong killed our mother in front of me. I knew that if we stayed there, he was going to do the same to us. The only reason that we’re alive is that I promised I’d take Saeran out that day. That’s the only reason we weren’t killed is ‘cause I wanted to give him a day under the sun.” 

“We ran for miles n’ miles until Jihyun found us and helped. It wasn’t pretty.  I was covered in her blood and Saeran was exhausted… there was no water for… I don’t like to think about that time, to be honest with you. We spent years livin’ and hidin’ as he tried to shield us from him. It wasn’t easy, but it was something. It was a reason to keep living and keep getting back up on the ground when we got hit. I did everything I could, but it wasn’t enough to protect him.” 

“And that’s why he let himself believe in the notion that he was this criminal, and that he had to push himself into becomin’ someone twisted to survive. He’s felt so lost, and I was too, but y’ain’t gotta be smart to know that a kid who people can take advantage of could be pushed until hit back. Saeran ain’t no monster, he’s got a kind heart, but he wants everybody to believe he’d kill if they crossed them.  We did a lot we ain’t proud of to survive, but…” 

“You, little Cereus, I don’t know what you did or how you did it, but you pulled the Saeran I know out of Unknown and brought him back to believin’ in something,” Saeyoung’s voice was strained and you could tell that he was choking back his tears as he spoke. “There’s no denyin’ the light in his eyes, and that’s why I had to save ya’. I had to ensure that his happiness was protected.”

He told you everything, every little detail that had happened to him and his brother over the years from start to finish. 

How Jihyun had to make a deal with Vanderwood to hide them even more because Saejoong had nearly caught them a second time, how he and Saeran dismantled that criminal group because they planned on killing the boys and lying to Jihyun to keep getting money, how he and Saeran had been working hard to find every trace of documentation that could prove Saejoong’s crime to the people—

So not only they could stop living in fear of the devil in the shadows so that the people of the west could finally see the light of day. Saejoong had been manipulating the lives of countless people for a very long time. Nobody knew the extent. 

Nobody knew just how much he was trying to control and break down from the start. 

They deserved to know they were being played for fools. 

The people couldn’t live without knowing the weight of lies being fed to them. 

You couldn’t believe how much these boys had suffered over their lives, but you were proud of them for fighting back. You were proud of them for standing their ground. 

Though, being proud wasn’t a means to say that they were pity words. It was the fact that you sincerely couldn’t imagine living like that. You may not have always seen eye to eye with your parents but you’d never know what to do if they did that to you. 

To treat someone as if they were nothing more than a toy to be used and thrown away. 

How could people be so needlessly cruel to children? 

When you had thought about Saeran and those scars on his wrists, it suddenly started to all come together all at once; To be trapped over and over again knowing that you could do nothing to stop it… you thought of that time when you held his hands in your own. 

You could see the abrasions and deep scars that marred his skin, and you understood where they came from.

You thought that they came from his working as a criminal, but as it turned out, they had come from being an innocent child in the wrong place at the wrong time. It burned you. It made you angry. It had made you want to stand your ground even harder to protect him from ever facing pain in his life ever again. You understood why Seven was so hellbent on protecting Saeran.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe in Saeran. It was the same reason that Seven said, you cared about him too much to see him subjected to facing the pain that he never deserved in the first place. It wasn’t okay to subject children to such torture. It burned you but you were scared for him because of where he was and how likely it was that he was alone. 

He didn’t need to be alone. 

He needed to have the world on his side, once and for all.

“He’s alone, isn’t he?” 

“Ya’ believe in Saeran, right?” 

“Always.” 

“Then ya’ can believe in me, too. I am him and he is me, that’s what twins are for. I’m not gonna let either of ya’ down. Today is the last day Saejoong holds a gun over our heads, So, hold on tight, little Cereus, Big Dipper’s gonna increase our speed.” 

—

“Saeran! Snap out of it!” 

“Saeran, Saeran, c’mon, get up,” his voice was pained and quick. Saeran was still in his daze as he looked at his brother with wide eyes. He needed to move him before it got worse. They needed to work on this plan he was telling you about. “He’s going to recover from that fast, get to Cereus right now, I’m going to take care of this.” 

“He… he just...” 

“I know, it’s okay, it’s okay, lil’ brother, I got you. I won’t let anyone hurt ya’.” 

“...”

Saeyoung’s arms wrapped tightly around Saeran’s shoulders as he held him for a moment. You could see that he needed that, they both needed that, but it wasn’t time to rejoice. This man was still alive and kicking in this world. He needed to be taken down. By the time you realized that you needed to look for Saejoong, it was too late. 

Saejoong seemed to have other plans in mind for everyone in this situation. He didn’t seem to think that three against one was anything that could stop him. He might have been just pushed back for a moment but he wasn’t giving up, his hand was bleeding from the wound but he’d gotten back to his feet. 

While Saeyoung was trying to speak sense into his brother to get moving, that man had gotten to his feet and stormed over to you. You tried to get out of the way but you didn’t have the energy to stop him now.

You let out a loud yelp when he yanked you by the hand and held his handgun against your head. “Let go of me!” 

“Quiet, Cereus! Unless ya’ want me to kill you for good this time,” his hiss echoed in your ears and made your body come to a standstill. This wasn’t like the man that had thrown you into the river, it sounded like he was fully prepared to make you pay for coming back. “I fuckin’ mean it. Make one move and I’ll shoot.” 

He had watched you nearly drown and he seemed prepared to finish the job this time. 

“Aggh!” 

There was a wild look in his eyes, and it seemed like he had been pushed to the edge. You tried to strain against him but there was nothing that you could do with how weak you felt from falling into the river. Your vision had come back but Saejoong jutted the gun against your skull further, hissing and barking at you to shut up. 

He had come out to this small area without backup and he thought that he was going to stand his ground against the twins when they’d come for him, but it appeared as though his plans had been snuffed with the boys came packing with no fear in their hearts. 

You didn’t know what he was thinking or why he hadn’t prepared better for the twins to arrive with his team. You knew that he had people with him and you knew that they were out there, but why they had not expected something like this and stayed with their boss was beyond you. You had seen who was out here with him. You knew that they were out there. 

You knew that they could be anywhere. 

But… where were they? 

Saejoong didn’t know what was happening with that, either. There was that sense that he was on edge and that he expected someone to arrive sooner, rather than later. Had someone turned against him at the last minute? You had no way of knowing what was going on because Saeyoung hadn’t had the time to tell you about everything that had happened while you were gone. 

Two days.

It had been two days, nearly three days, since you had seen anyone. 

You didn’t know what they had been doing or what they had been trying to do on their side of things because you spent two days alone and isolated underneath the sun as you prayed for the burn to wash away from your skin. You didn’t know what to think. They had a plan but whatever it was, it wasn’t moving fast enough. 

This was getting out of control and fast. 

There was no telling what had been going on, and once again, you found yourself at the end of a barrel of a pistol. This wasn’t where you wanted to be. You didn’t want to be used against them, not again, no one would want to be the bargaining chip for the lives of the people that they cared about. Nobody. It had happened to Vanderwood and you saw the weight on their shoulders. 

You saw the pain they carried as they left you.

It was the weight of holding the world on your shoulders but not being happy for it. Nobody wanted to control the fate of everyone. It wasn’t a good choice to have. Your lungs felt hot as a breath escaped you. You had just barely saved yourself at the last second and now you were being pushed down once again. 

No amount of struggling was getting Saejoong to let go of you. 

This man had shown you time and time again that he was someone who would act without mercy in his heart. He had intended to kill you already and now he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Even though he only had one gun in his hand, that was more than no gun. 

What did this man think that he was going to prove? 

Even if you died, even if you breathed your last breath—

“Stop it,” you strained, and knew that he would just tap the gun against your head deeper. “There’s no point to any of this! You could’ve just let them live freely! The only reason they fought against you was that you tried to kill them in the first place! You gave them no choice but to fight back or die! You never had to do any of this!” 

“Their lives are the very problem, Cereus,” he hissed with a growl. “Their mother thought she was being clever and she paid the ultimate price for it. I ain’t about to deal with another mistake twice cause’ of ‘em. They would’ve saved all of us a lot of trouble if they’d just died alongside their mother, point-blank. It never had to be painful or complicated, they’re the ones that dragged needless conflict.” 

“Get your filthy fuckin’ hands off of my Cereus,” Saeran’s voice cut through you like relief, though the acid in his voice was something that you hadn’t heard since that first night you met him and he scared off the crook that had a gun pointed at you. “I’m not goin’ to repeat myself. It’s the end of the fuckin’ road, Saejoong. If this is all you have, then this is a waste of your time. Shoot ‘em, and we’ll shoot you dead right after.” 

“He’s ain’t fuckin’ around, and neither I am, Saejoong,” Saeyoung’s voice was just as firm. These two meant business and they weren’t going to turn things around nor were they going to allow you to get hurt again because of their father and his selfish wishes. “Ain’t nobody comin’ for ya’ and ain’t nobody gonna back ya’ up. Give up. End of the fuckin’ line, ya’ bastard. You’re just delaying the inevitable from happenin’.”

Looking back at the brothers, you were looking right at the two of them as they stood together, guns pointedly at Saejoong without hesitation. Seeing the stand together united was something that pulled at your heart for some reason. You’d seen how strained they were at times but to see them working in harmony?

It was a testament to their bond.

Even if they didn’t always see eye to eye. 

Seeing them together was more powerful than anything that you’d ever known. Knowing where they came from and how hard they fought their entire lives to stand their ground against this man had to come to an end one of these days and no matter what happened here, this was the last minute for one of these sides to fall. 

With hope, it was meant to be Saejoong. However, Saejoong wasn’t backing down. You had expected as much, but you never thought that you would be in the middle of a potential shoot-out. This wasn’t where you wanted to be today.  Though, you doubted anyone wanted to be in this position. Shivering, you looked back at Saeran. 

He was looking at you, wordlessly. Even though he wasn’t saying anything, you felt like he was speaking everything just from his eyes. Those eyes that you loved so dearly. He was pained and relieved, just as a set of tears began to flood to your eyes. You thought that they all dried up and left you behind, but just the sight of seeing him brought the tears back. 

You never wanted to put him in this position. You never wanted to make him choose between being himself and being who he didn’t want to be. He wasn’t a monster but he was faced against a real one and you knew, you knew in your heart that he didn’t want to hurt others. 

You knew it. He didn’t have to say it. The world never gave him another chance to survive. He had no choice in what his life was or how it played out.

Until you. 

He chose to keep talking to you and he chose to get close to you. That was all of his own accord and for a man that tried to shove everyone around and work in isolation, it said a lot about what he could have thought of someone like you. You wanted to believe that the feeling of his lips nearly brushing against yours had been the fruit on top of the cake. 

It wasn’t the whole of his affection, but it had been the piece that you had wanted to taste first. 

You wanted to kiss him, to embrace him, and to say that hell was over and that judgment day had come to a close and he had won, but that’s not where you found yourselves. Those faded scars and those old memories flooding your mind, wishing to be blind to everything but your love for him. 

If just for a moment. 

If just for a minute. 

If just for a second. 

Saejoong was gripping your arm so tightly, so tightly that it was likely to become a bruise soon, but against the big rope burns and marring from being bound for so long, it would only be another injury to add to the ones that you already had. What was another bruise to the pile that you had already been given by this man?

“You’ve lost, Saejoong, fuckin’ simple,” Saeran repeated himself once again. “Yer’ wastin’ your time tryin’ to kill them when no matter what ya’ pick, yer’  going’ to be dead regardless of the choice. Let… them… go… now, and trust me, I ain’t got the patience for yer’ ass anymore. Neither does Saeyoung. This is fuckin’ pitiful if anythin’.” 

He laughed, “You think ya’ beat me? Haha… hahaha…. Haha… do you hear that, Cereus? My sons think they got me beat. It’s only a matter of time til’ the sheriff comes ‘round and handles this little problem. Ya’ think ya’ have numbers on me? We can stand here all day till they get here. Ain’t nothin’ gonna change the fact I ain’t lost yet.” 

“If all ya’ got is holding Cereus hostage to prove you’ve got control, then yer’ not the so-called boss ya’ think you are,” Saeyoung said, coldly. You saw his finger nudge against the trigger of his gun, his grip so close to taking the shot. He had hit him once before, you knew that he wouldn’t hesitate again. That look in his golden eyes wasn’t lying. 

Neither was the one in Saeran’s eyes. 

But, the air grew tense and it seemed like this standoff was going to last quite a while. Neither Saeran, Saeyoung, nor Saejoong was letting go of the grip on their guns. Nobody made a move, nobody made a sound, and nobody dared to challenge what had been created. This was going to end one way, and one way only. 

Someone was going to meet their end. 

You knew that something was going to happen, but the dread pooling in your gut told you to stay calm, to stay quiet, to not make things harder for the boys. 

It was already strained enough. There was no need in making it worse. They were doing everything they could at that moment to make sure that nobody got hurt that didn’t need to be. You wanted to believe in your gut from what you were seeing that Saejoong had nobody coming. You hadn’t seen Vanderwood since the night prior, nor the sheriff. So, something felt off. 

You couldn’t ask them. 

You cursed yourself for not asking Seven what was going on, but he was in his own state of disarray now. Sucking a breath, you tried not to think about the gun pressed against your temple. Nor the way that it could end your life in a matter of seconds, rather than minutes. Even if someone came, it would do nothing to stop where you were standing. 

“They’re right, Saejoong,” you winced at the way that your voice trembled. You probably looked like a drowned rat to everyone. Even if the sun was drying out the water, you still looked like you had been run ragged as something dropped in the laundry barrel. “There’s no point in this. What do you get if you’re dead? Your legacy? What’s a legacy to a dead man? What’s a pile of gold to a dead man? What do you get if you’re dead?” 

“Everything,” the man’s grip felt like it was digging down deep to the bone. His hiss made you wince and shudder.  “A man’s name is everything he has, no matter if he lives or dies. Names have power, as do status, n’ I’m not about to lose mine to a couple of bastard children! I told ya’ what’d happen if ya’ tried to fight me, lemme guess, ya’ wanna die today?!” 

You felt the gun click in his hand, and automatically you clenched your eyes shut and prayed for him to spare the trigger. 

But, it never came for you. When you opened your eyes again, you realized why you never had to hear the gun. That was because the area was now surrounded by people. The sounds of horses and footsteps on the dirt gave way to a crowd of people coming from the direction of the town. The RFA was among the sea of townspeople, and you almost cried in relief. 

Gasps and surprise rang out from the people as they realized that their mayor was holding one of the townspeople at gunpoint, someone who looked like they had been beaten for days. There was no way to paint this in a different light. There was no way to talk your way out of this one. That unhinged look in his eyes and the blood seeping from his hand was telling. 

There was no way he could explain this to the people. 

And, they weren’t happy to see that their mayor, the man that convinced all of them that he was kind and compassionate. He was standing there holding someone who had been nothing but kind to every single person in town ever since they arrived at gunpoint. No matter the fact that Unknown and Seven were disheveled and holding their guns across from him, this situation was obvious to even the people who blindly agreed with the mayor at every turn without questioning him or a moment in the past. It was over. 

And, Saejoong didn’t like that. 

He didn’t like that. 

“I said it was over,” Saeran said. That look in his eyes was filled with relief. Though, his grip on his gun was tight. It was likely a reflex. He looked like the world had returned to his eyes, and Seven stood right by his side, letting out a breath that he hadn’t realized that he had been holding in this entire time. The crowd wanted answers. 

“This ain’t what it looks like,” Saejoong said, his hand immediately removed the gun from your head as he tried to do damage control for what he thought that he could fix. “Y’all don’t understand what this looks like. I can explain everythin’ yer’ thinkin’ about right now. [Y/N] is a liar and has been workin’ in the background with the outlaws, Unknown n’ Seven.” 

That’s when Zen spoke up from the crowd, stepping forward with an undaunted expression on his face. “Oh? Is that why you had a gun to their head? What happened to leaving everything to the sheriff when it came to criminals? You’ve claimed you would never raise a hand against anyone yourself to make it fair for everyone involved until proven guilty. What threat does [Y/N] pose to someone like you, mayor?”

“If they’re in league with the outlaws—”

Zen scoffed at that. His eyes rested on you, and you knew that he was here to protect you. That man was your best friend. He would do anything to make sure that you were okay. He glanced back at the crowd. “And, better yet, [Y/N] has been missing for two days and we all know that it couldn’t have been Unknown and Seven who took them. And, get that fucking look off your face, Saejoong, your sheriff sang like a canary to the town. We know what you’ve done.” 

“You’ve been stealing from people for years,” Jumin cut in from Zen’s side. The man rested his arms against his chest. He nodded along. “It seems like your partners decided that you weren’t as powerful as you believe yourself to be. We caught your bumbling idiots trying to burn down my father’s home with him and his fiancé inside last night. They sold you out to save their own skin today. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself.” 

Saejoong was glowering and as he tried to open his mouth to combat what they were saying, to try and defend himself from the truth, but the rest of the RFA just kept cutting him off before he could try to speak his mind. He had said enough and there was no way that they were going to let him try and trick anyone again. 

“You’ve been manipulating crime so the wrong people are imprisoned just because they know too much about you, and we’ve corroborated their accounts thanks to Jihyun’s proof. You should know that if you’re going to commit grand theft and manipulate people, you shouldn’t have documentation about these accounts hidden in your office, Mayor,” Jaehee’s narrowed eyes were on him like a knife, sharp and ready to strike.

There was no hiding the fact that she’d been prepared to shoot that gun out of Saejoong’s hand. If the rumors you’d heard were true, she could’ve taken him out from a mile away if she wanted. That gave you a sense of relief knowing that she could’ve helped you alongside the twins if something went out of control. 

It gave you a sense of strength in a sea where you had been robbed of that. 

Seeing your chance to move, you rushed to Saeran’s side as far away as you could get from Saejoong to save yourself from the impending disaster that was going to fall on his lap now that the truth was just pouring out from all sides. He didn’t stop you when you wrapped your arms around him, lungs hot with that relieved sigh that you inhaled. 

It was him. 

This was Unknown. 

It was truly Saeran. 

His arms were stiff at first, but the grip that he had on the gun loosened as he returned the weapon to his belt. He let himself hold you and you felt the ragged breath that escaped his lungs as if he had been holding in since the last time that he saw you. It didn’t matter that the world could see the two of you, you didn’t care what anyone thought. 

You just wanted to be with Saeran again. 

“Sorry I ain’t come to save ya’ faster, little Cereus,” he whispered. His fingers clutching tight to the back of your shirt. His voice was so soft and so tender. It was unlike any tone that you’d heard from him before and it made your heart swell. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him even though your heart was begging you to look and never let go. 

“You idiot,” the soft whimpers that escaped your throat were pitiful but relieved all the same. Just knowing that he was there with you, safe and sound, made everything better tenfold. “You weren’t supposed to come back for me. You were supposed to get away from all of this.”

There was a chuckle in response, “Don’t ya’ remember what I told ya’? You shouldn’t underestimate me. I ain’t gonna leave ya’ to die like that. Besides, y’ain’t paid me back for that life debt, yet. I can’t be losin’ my Cereus suddenly without a warnin’. I’d never get any work done if’n it was just me n’ this idiot over here.” 

Saeran nudged his twin that was standing next to him with a sigh. You could tell that he was cooling down now. Though, there was still the smallest tremble in his body that told you that all of this had affected him as much as it affected you. You could see Seven in the corner of your eye letting his shoulders sink but his grip on his gun was still firm out of sheer necessity. 

Saejoong wasn’t taken down yet, he was still standing there, unscathed in a crowd of people. It was at that point that you elected to lift your head and gaze up at Saeran. He looked back at you and offered a small glimmer of a smirk. It was his way of smiling, but you missed that. You also noticed that Jihyun had arrived at the scene, as he was standing behind the three of you. 

His hands resting against their shoulders and they both stilled. Jihyun glanced at you, the apologetic look in his eyes was there. “I apologize that we were almost too late, [Y/N.] That rests on my shoulders, and my shoulders alone. But, this is never going to happen again, I won’t allow it. My cowardice was what stopped me from doing this sooner, but thank you for giving me the chance to make things right.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, to say that you understood that he had been trying his best and that hearing everything that Vanderwood said just implied that while he made a few mistakes, he had only wanted to protect them. But, Saeran decidedly cuts you off before you can say a word to reassure him. 

“Really, dad? We already had this fuckin’ talk, so go on n’ stop kickin’ ya’self in the ass when we’ve already talked this out,” the scowl on his face was fairly light-hearted in comparison to the way that you’d seen him stare at other criminals. There was a story there that you didn’t know. Even Seven seemed to be surprised by that comment. 

“Ya’ heard him,'' Seven offered with a chuckle. His golden eyes returned to Saejoong, who was now cornered by the RFA and the crowd at all sides. He wasn’t going to be able to run away.  “There’s no arguin’ with that. Did you bring it here, then? The paperwork n’ everything? Not that I think we’ll have ta’ use it at this point.” 

“Better safe than sorry, son,” Jihyun offered with a nod.

The crowd had grown quiet as Jihyun stepped up to the plate with his hands in front of him and a nod on his head as he crossed the paths of the townsfolk that he knew very well. 

He stopped in front of the man and held his head high. It was a surprise to see him different from that man weighed by guilt the last night that you spoke to him. 

Jihyun was a well-known man in this town and he did his best to make that bar everything for the people here that needed a haven and no single person would dare to think that he would step out of line to hurt anyone. People trusted him because he respected them. 

“This is just a misunderstandin’,'' Saejoong was doing his damnedest to fight the claims but nobody was believing a single word he was saying. You didn’t know but you had this feeling that the two days that they spent away from you were spent turning everything they knew against this man out into the open to destroy his hold on the world. 

“It’s ridiculous! Surely none of ya’ think that I would ever do something to endanger any of our citizens unless something had to be done to protect them! Those three criminals are planning on using all of us! Ya’ don’t understand what I was trying to do for all of you! Who are you going to trust? Some miscreants from a floozy bar or your mayor?!” 

“That’s enough, Saejoong Choi.” 

You had known that the three of them had been working for years to take this man down, searching for proof, papers, and all kinds of things to show the people substantial proof that they were being lied to and mistreated by a criminal from the start. You didn't know the extent of how deep things ran, but to see all of these people angry and against him—

After having spent years trusting him to take care of them? 

This feeling didn’t fall on you. 

The weight of this was years in the making. 

Jihyun stood his ground, “Stop digging your grave deeper. We’ve proven everything to the townsfolk that you've been hidin’ from all of us, the gold, the manipulation, stealing documentation, coercing and bribing people, the murders, the lying, and the list goes on. The town knows everything and we’ve shared everything with them because they deserve to know what ya’ve done.”

“The gold that you’ve stolen from the residents of this town has been uncovered. Vanderwood sold you out after Seven freed their family from the well you’d trapped them in to get rid of them. Everyone had no choice but to believe the facts presented when we caught the sheriff red-handed in the act of trying to move the gold from your household. The sheriff gave you up after he realized that he’d been had, and told everyone the truth. You made everyone believe that you could control them through fear and manipulation by holding the sheriff and a few crooks in your pockets, but not anymore.”

“No longer will anyone in this town fear what you’ve done to us since you came here all those years ago. You killed countless people with your own hands, or through others to get your control. You are a man that came from nothing back east, who conned his way to this area by lying and tricking others from day one. You were never an honest man. I followed your trail back east and found the paperwork and warrants for your arrest that were set decades ago.” 

“You came here to evade the law, only to continue to live the life of a criminal instead of turning your ways around and trying to do the right thing. You killed countless, my mother included, and worst of all, you killed the mother of your sons right in front of them, in cold blood, because you didn’t want them to exist. These crimes span decades of your life and they never seem to end. But no more. We’re putting a stop to it, now.”

With bated breath, Jihyun laid down the price of absolution as he flashed the wanted papers in front of the crowd of people with unmistakable features of this old man. “Saejoong Choi is a wanted criminal, through and through. It’s time to pay back for all that you’ve done. You’re lucky that the people here in this town are good, otherwise, you wouldn’t be standin’ here alive right now for all that you’ve done. No excuse you say will save you, nor can you run away anymore.” 

Saejoong didn’t like that. Oh, no, he didn’t like that at all. This was his livelihood. The color had drained from his face as he realized just how deep the grave that he had dug for himself was. He opened his mouth and shut it again. It seemed as though for the first time in his life he had nothing to say and nothing to wiggle his way out of. 

There was no else to blame, no one else to scream at, and no one else to cover for him. 

He was the one stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

Everything that he had built for himself, the empire, the money, and more, was ripped away from him in a matter of seconds. All because the RFA had banded together to take everything apart piece by piece as fast as humanly possible. From Jihyun’s statement, you were able to put together what happened. It seemed as though the boys discerned who had turned you into Saejoong.

Meaning Vanderwood, the person that had worked with the twins for a very long time.  Seven had known how Vanderwood acted and knew that they wouldn’t have turned the boys in if they had a say in the matter. So, he did what he was known for, figuring out and solving a problem in seven seconds and fixing it. 

Their family was being held against their will and that’s why Vanderwood had no choice but to work for Saejoong. Seven was able to locate where their family was being held and sprang them from the spot, giving Vanderwood the chance to make amends with what they’d do. You had made a huge impression on Vanderwood and were to thank for part of that. 

Vanderwood headed back into town not long after they’d left you that night and was able to meet up with the RFA thanks to your encouragement to make peace with their choices. Once their family was free, they had the chance to fix things for the twins as well. With someone with just as many collections as the twins, they now had what they didn’t before. 

Meaning that they had a lot more manpower on their side to fight back. 

Vanderwood was just as connected with the underbelly of criminals as the twins were, and working with them, it seemed as though they were able to make a front just large enough to back them up as they dismantled everything that this mayor had put together to try to stop them from harming the Han family, which had been the second problem. 

That plan that you had overheard with Saeran was nearly set into motion in tandem with your kidnapping. 

They planned on getting Chairman Han out of the way and getting rid of the twins in the same motion, and then they were going to pin Jumin Han down with a deal that he couldn’t refuse as the town began to fall apart due to Saejoong’s plan. 

Jumin and the others managed to catch them in the act of trying to burn the house down, with both Chairman Han and Madam Choi inside. Once the richest man in town was essentially saved because of the criminals and not by the sheriff and his men, there was no hope for them. 

Which led to the next part of their plan. 

All because the sheriff had been strangely quiet lately and the lack of response to a crime against someone like Chairman Han couldn’t be ignored. 

Most of the town’s people were perplexed by all of this. But, Chairman Han was beloved for how fair he was to everyone that he tended to and provided work for. Seeing that criminals had come to his rescue far sooner than the sheriff had set a poor taste in the mouths of some people. 

Suspicion had been growing out of control lately about who was pocketing all of the gold and forcing people to get out of town. 

The sheriff not being there to do his job to allow for vigilante justice just fanned those flames. 

A simple comment from Yoosung as a crowd gathered at the site of Chairman Han’s household: “I have seen the sheriff sneaking off to the mines late at night. I saw him carrying a bag of gold, filled to the brim. If the mines are drying up, how would he have that much gold?” 

Which led to them convincing everyone with the proof to go and see where the gold was being taken, catching the sheriff in the act of trying to transfer everything that was hidden in the mines to a secure location on Saejoong’s property. In the process of trying to speed away from the mines to avoid the angry mob, everyone had seen him drop gold into the dirt. 

By the time everyone caught up to him, he had been stupid enough to go right to the scene of the crime of all places. They wound up on Saejoong Choi’s property. His wife seemingly had no idea who her husband was, and upon seeing everything as proof that was placed in front of her—

She allowed everyone to search the property and the household because she needed answers. They didn’t just need answers, she needed to know why her husband had been so busy lately and finding more and more excuses to stay out of the house when they had a young child to take care of. It was found in a matter of an hour as everyone searched the grounds of his household. 

So much of the gold was just sitting on his property, tucked away in a small plot he had dug to hide much of it. It couldn’t have been planted there, either. That was proven when the documentation in Saejoong’s office was acquired. His notes about this situation were just sitting there at his desk for anyone to find. 

From that point, this man was damned from the second that he decided to try and hurt his sons in the first place. His downfall was his undoing because he didn’t think hard enough to hide more of what he was doing. This information was only compounded with the realization and proof of his sons, the murder of their mother, and well as countless others as—

Not to mention that he was a wanted man on the other side of the country for countless crimes. 

He masked himself as an honest man. 

He had never been an honest man. 

His empire and his legacy that he wouldn’t stop talking about were now ripped from his hands. There was no coming back from this and Saejoong knew that. That look in his eyes as he realized that he had been defeated was the most spiteful and angriest look that you’d ever seen. The mask that he had worn was now broken and the people could see Saejoong for who he was. 

The monster, not the man, that they had come to know. 

And just like that, Saejoong was caught and bound so that he could be taken in to face justice. 

“It’s over, it’s really over now,” Seven said from your side once again. His voice felt lighter and like he was breathing for the first time. You could hear a sigh of relief, and almost a breathless laugh because the day had finally come where the boys were free. They were finally no longer bound by the fate they were born into. 

He embraced his brother and you both, for the longest time. The weight of the world sliding off his shoulders and his brother’s. To think that everyone had come so close to death and now it was finally over once and for all. No words could be used to describe that feeling. The feeling of being as free as a bird in the blue sky. 

“We’re really free,” Saeran echoed that thought. His grip around you was still just as firm. He didn’t want to let go of you at this moment. You lifted your head to catch his gaze and that soft look in his bright eyes made your heart melt. You smiled at him and he returned it. A breathless laugh escaped his lips and yours as well.

No matter how exhausted your bodies felt, this was a moment to live and to thrive. In this unforgiving desert, you had found hope and you wanted to cling to it as tightly as you could.

Saeran glanced at his brother and scoffed. The tone of his voice was a little dry as if he was trying to get him to step away so that he could have a moment with you,  “Do ya’ mind, Saeyoung? I ain’t seen my little Cereus in days.” 

Saeyoung chuckled and took a step back with his hands raised in his defense. There was a bit of surprise in his eyes as he heard his brother use his true name. He hadn’t done that in a very long time, as far as you knew. He smiled and tucked his hands into his coat, politely glancing away so that the two of you could have a moment. 

He said, “Alright, Alright, have yer’ fun, loverboy. I know how to take a hint when you slap me with it. I’ll look away, Saeranie.” 

With that aside, Saeran kept his gaze focused on you. “Now, where were we last time we were together, then?” 

“I believe you were going to kiss me, Saeran,” you countered. You didn’t miss the way that the warmth spread across his face as you mentioned that. “You were going to let me decide for myself what was or what wasn’t dangerous for me. So, what do you think? Are you still going to challenge that kiss or are we going to keep bickering about it?” 

It seemed as though you had caught him off guard with that. He chuckled, though, as you tipped his hat back to reveal the dusty red hair that felt as warm as your heart. Leaning over, you brushed your lips against his and he melted into your touch. It felt like sparks flying... like you were meant to be together in this windy desert like nothing else could. This was everything that you wanted. 

And, quite honestly? 

It was everything that he wanted. 

By the time that you pulled away, your forehead still rested against his. Breaths melting together as you finally at peace with yourself and your choices. As hard as it got sometimes, this was what you felt like you had been missing all along. The adventure that you wanted wasn’t going to be found just by going places and traveling, it could be found where your heart was, forever. 

Saeran was the journey that you wanted to explore the world with and without saying it, you could sense that he could say the same. It was all in his eyes. The eyes that you loved so very dearly and so very strongly. You could hear his whisper against the wind, as his words that were only meant for you were spoken so gently. 

“I love ya’,” he said with a murmur. “I love ya’ more than I’ve ever cared about anythin’. I thought that I’d never get the chance to tell ya’. I should’ve done that so you wouldn’t have left that night. I wanted ta’ kiss ya’, I wanted ta’ kiss ya’ more than anything… I just… I never wanted ya’ to get involved so much that somethin’ like this happened. You’re my Cereus, my sweet little Cereus, and I don’t know what I’d a’ done if I lost ya’ forever.” 

“Cereus is… Cereus is a lot of things for a lot of people. But, to me, it’s hope. It’s finding somethin’ in the desert that lets ya’ feel alive. It’s when ya’ hit ya’ lowest point, the darkest day, and somethin’ just shines so brightly that ya’ can’t help but ta’ get up and try n’ live for it. You’re my Cereus, you’re my hope, you’re my light in the darkness. Ever since I saw ya’, all I could see was the Cereus that made me want to live when I thought I was gonna die.” 

“You saw what everyone thinks is a monster, and ya’ gave me a chance when nobody else would. That’s why you’re my Cereus. That’s why I love ya’, and I never want to let ya’ go. If it ain’t too much trouble, would you consider staying with me? Despite everythin’ that’s happened? I get it’s askin’ a lot but I just can’t imagine life without ya’ anymore. I ain’t the softest man, nor am I the kindest, but you make me want to believe again.” 

Cupping his hands in your hands, you quietly kissed him again to seal the deal. He didn’t know it, but his eyes were flooded with tears. As were yours. The world had tried to rip away everything from Saeran since the moment that he was born, but Cereus had given him the faith to stay alive. It had told him to survive. 

Because if something so full of life could survive in hell, why couldn’t he? 

“If that’s what Cereus means, then I should be calling you that,” you said, breathless. 

“Actually,” he said. Those eyes of his opened and watched you carefully as the lull of the world around you grew to a standstill. It was nothing else that mattered and nobody else existed. “I want you to use my name. I don’t have to be Unknown anymore. I want to be Saeran Choi. I want to finally be free of these chains, and even though I’m a mess, I want to be Saeran with you. Because you saw him and gave him a chance when I thought he was gone forever.” 

You smiled, thumbs wiping away the few tears that had escaped him. 

“You’ll keep calling me Cereus, though, right?” 

“As long as it infuriates you the entire time.” 

“That’s too bad, Saeran, I happen to like it, now.” 

“Is that so?” 

Cereus was Saeran’s hope. To Saeran, Cereus was his everything, and by calling you Cereus, he was saying that you were his hope when all else had abandoned him and left him for dead. 

That’s what Cereus meant all this time. Knowing that... you knew that you weren’t going to be able to stop blubbering like a baby about it. To think that he meant so much of you from the first night that he named you after something so palpable and true. No matter what happened, that name was so very important to him.

To be gifted that name was something that you would never let pass you by. Saejoong was wrong about the Night-Blooming Cereus. 

You didn’t bloom in a night only to wither away just as fast as it blossomed. Cereus was the hope that better days could come and that the dark journey was coming to a close. If Saeran saw you as his Cereus, then you saw him as your Cereus. It just happened to work out that way. 

You gave him hope and he gave you hope. 

Cereus brought you together and it would bind your fates forever.

[Read The Epilogue.]

#cowboy saeran supremacy #cowboy saeran #mm #mysme #mysticmessenger #mystic messenger #saeran #saeran choi #choi saeran #mystic messenger saeran #mysme saeran #mm saeran #saeran mm #saeran mysme #saeran mystic messenger #unknown #unknown mm #unknown mysme #unknown mystic messenger #mystic messenger unknown #mysme unknown #mm unknown #mod kait #cereus #fic rec #saeran x reader #unknown x reader #reader insert #long post

[seafleece]

Hey, random question, but what do you think are the M9's love languages?

oh, anon, you absolutely did not sign up for this and i am so sorry, but here we are. i had to look up the five types and keep them in the google doc to remind myself what they were, but uhh here’s almost 4000 words of character analysis and discussion of debatable quality

jester: 

my initial thought was quality time— an obvious and painful one, as it’s the one her mother wasn’t able to provide. i think the sleeper, though, for jester, is acts of service. 

with beau, this especially shows up in reference to healing— jester having a more healing-focused cleric around is a big relief, especially for someone so close to warlock status that she almost was one, but very notably, she very much wants to heal beau. she specifically apologizes for not doing so in the chantry, and attributes that to beau’s absence rather than anything else; more generally, there’s a huge amount of distress on jester’s part when beau is hurt, and that she wants to be the one to heal beau (notably, with the gorgon, she RAN to beau, was immediately upset both times beau started getting petrified, and even dissuaded caduceus or caleb from using their turn to heal beau so she could instead, making sure to be Right There even while nott was applying the oil). she also seems to really value the instances when beau does things for her, especially since there are specific acts that beau reserves for jester (engaging with religion in any capacity, wearing a dress for jester and more broadly allowing jester to pick her clothes, a concept which beau probably has an explicitly negative association with from her mother).

it’s also muddled jester up the worst when it comes to relationships she understands less— the “kiss” with fjord in the temple that was a vehicle for giving jester air, most specifically, comes to mind— and she’s really come to terms with this by realizing that romantic feelings weren’t really what he was expressing, and that it wasn’t necessarily what she was feeling, either. it’s noticeable in how she describes her relationship with the traveler— she feels like her service to him is doing little things for him, and asks, when she’s unsure, when the traveler failed to act on her behalf when they were kidnapped, if she did something wrong to make him angry, and literally desecrates a temple to make up for it as soon as they’re back in town.

and the thing is, quality time isn’t really what was lacking in her relationship with marion— marion probably did have time to spend with jester for at least a little while every day. the problem is that marion simply couldn’t provide jester with things that she needed: access to the outside world and companionship. she had to learn from near-scratch how to navigate relationships of varying intensities, and it shows with her initial zeroing in on fjord as an iteration of the dashing sailor her momma told her about, as well as her more slow-burn come to trust and really invest in and love beau, because she’s never had a relationship like that with a girl, and maybe didn’t even know it was something she could have, or something she could want.

jester’s her proudest when she’s doing things for other people, even if they maybe wouldn’t love her doing it if they knew— threatening beau’s dad because she hates that he hurt her, hearing that beau was thinking about leaving and marching in to modify memory a hag, writing astrid a letter because caleb seems like he liked her, asking essek if he likes caleb because caleb seems to like essek, painting yasha’s room in the xhorhaus, finding outfits for everyone. she struggles with how to rein in showing it and thinking first about the potential consequences, and is unsure how to navigate what it means when she’s shown it in return, but it’s messy and heartfelt and sincere. with her mom, she really clearly appreciates when her mom does do things for her— providing a home for her friend’s family, allowing the m9 to stay in the chateau, coming to the party with them despite her agoraphobia. i’m sort of banking on a scene where jester talks to her about it, apologizes for leaving, and reaffirms that it means a lot to her that marion is stepping out of her comfort zone for her.

beau: 

words of affirmation. this is NO DOUBT something her parents didn’t give her, maybe ever. this is baked into her relationship with them— she knew that her father wanted a boy, he probably Told her this, and she wasn’t one. it’s something she could literally never be, an aspect she would be forever resented for, that would tinge everything her father ever said to her. her mother also probably didn’t give her much if any affirmation, as she was trying to police and fix beau’s behavior to avoid thoreau’s anger for both of them, and never properly elaborated to beau that her intention was to keep beau from being punished (not that it would have made it okay, for the record). it’s also why her conversation with her parents in 92 immediately threw her off, because for once they actually told her she’d impressed them, that she’d done good, and it’s rough as hell to see that. 

unfortunately, it’s also the thing she’s least likely to get from everyone else unless she’s at her worst, because almost everyone else, including fanon, seems to have profoundly absorbed this idea that beau is rude and abrasive and sarcastic and she’s just. not. she might have been at the start, but she’s always been especially soft with jester, she and caleb are very mutually assured about the sort of affection they show each other, she’s always been either openly flirting with or just sort of tenderly awkward with and trying around yasha, she and caduceus have a fun and pretty peaceful dynamic i always love to see, and we know caduceus, for at least a while, considered beau his favorite. 

then, there’s the characters she’s known for butting heads with the most: fjord, with whom she’s developing a sibling dynamic to rival hers with caleb and really obviously is ride or die for; nott, who used to openly insult beau and just about everyone else, and who is now 1/3 of the chaos crew beau is also in; and molly, whose death was a HUGE turning point for beau in terms of a) taking stock of her morals and how she intended to act on them and b) expressing love for someone so you know they know it, before it’s too late. 

jester seems to see this the most, no surprise there, and dairon also sees a lot of potential in beau not because she’s strong or fast (she’s from a martially focused monastery), but because she’s smart. dairon talks about and to beau very affectionately compared to other mentor/guardian figures she’s had, and i think it means a lot to her coming from both jester and dairon. she certainly returns the favor for both of them.

fjord: 

this one isn’t immediately apparent, so i’m gonna start by talking about the nature of his relationship with caduceus (and see where it gets me). 

okay, i lied, i’m starting with molly.

fjord and molly had a thing. it’s clear in retrospect, and i’ve talked about it, but i think it has to do with where fjord was in his quest to reinvent himself. molly was someone who, for all intents and purposes, had flawlessly become a new person— not necessarily because of a concerted effort to change who lucien was, but a different person nonetheless. fjord wanted desperately to believe that that was attainable for him, and thus saw a lot in investing in molly. molly was a silent affirmation that fjord could really pull this off, could really reinvent himself and be fine.

also, molly was hot. enough said.

caduceus, on the other hand, offered something different. caduceus came along right before fjord’s willingness to help uk’otoa was first tested— fjord rose to the occasion, but the whole time there was someone new along, someone whose faith in his deity seemed assured. assured, that’s something fjord never had.

afterward, he got to see what it meant to believe in a god like that, and he started to want in. caduceus seems like a very honest person— though really, it’s just because m9 doesn’t know the right questions to ask him— and his god is the god of the sea, too, right? fjord really lost a rock in molly the way i don’t think a lot of people realize, and it’s why his swallowing the summer’s dance felt so meaningful. he was keeping a part of molly with him, and i wonder if he misses that part of his falchion. after he lost his inspiration for recreation, he started to put stock into authenticity as the answer, and caduceus as the vehicle. and the wildmother was very accepting, too, took him in like a lost sheep.

where fjord is now, i think he values the covenant (which i realize i actually define later, so if i forget to reorganize these before i post, then oops) in a similar way to caleb. more specifically, though, he decidedly the word owe in talking to beau about the group’s relationship, which, among other things, speaks to acts of service. fjord has work to do to earn his place as a paladin of the wildmother (and a good amount of work to do indeed, if getting trounced by darrow was any indication), and he feels the need to repay caduceus for his help, companionship, and guidance. fjord also gets hurt and KO’d. a lot. i think he takes it on the chin as his role in the group— that’s his job, and he has faith in caduceus and jester to keep him up. they’re not done yet, they haven’t finished serving one another, so beau leaving is of considerable offense (near-mutinous, to be specific).

caleb: 

words MEAN SHIT to caleb, you can tell in the way he talks. everyone remembers the times he’s told nott he loves her, he responds best to beau because i think he really loves the way she talks, he shows his feelings in really passionate speeches to nott, to beauregard, and most recently to essek. there’s absolutely a reason why so many goddamn quotes from campaign 2 are attributed to this dude, and it’s because he monologues like a fucking champ. their group is named after his accent. 

as for receiving love, though, i think it’s a little different. we know from talks that he’s placed a lot of value on the things jester has done for him, and moreover to be herself as someone who gives recklessly, but as far as we know he doesn’t intend to do anything with it. with nott, i’m tempted to create a new category that’s something like a covenant? he and nott agreed to travel together and help each other under the worst conditions, and they’ve stuck to this fastidiously. this covenant, this commitment to the group, is something he extends to everyone— he is not willing to walk away from this, and hasn’t been for a long time, he believes in all of them, truly, what they can do— and cherishes the fact that everyone has kept this, except for two very specific moments. beau, when she introduced the threat of her leaving the party, and yasha, when she was taken over by obann. for beau, he actually seemed fairly quiet compared to fjord, and i’m not sure yet on why this is, other that i think he trusted fjord and jester to talk her down. as for yasha, he seems to be really invested in commiserating with yasha as two haunted ones (literally), and sees her as someone who also really values the group but sees her ability to belong as tarnished by what she’s done. 

for the purposes of this, i’m gonna refer to it as that, as a covenant (yes i’m a failed church kid, what of it) and as separate from acts of service, because it’s more akin to the promise of one major, permanent act of service to each other. i wonder if it’s this steadfastness in that idea that partially led caduceus to continue and develop the idea of his role, because caleb and the rest of team cockroach, as i call them, were gonna keep that covenant if it killed them, and caduceus could keep them from getting killed, at the very least, if he entered into it.

but anyway, that covenant now extends to essek, if he decides to take it. and if he does, that will mean something infinite to caleb, i think. 

caduceus: acts of service.

okay. i wanna talk about caduceus and danger.

caduceus doesn’t heal himself. we know this. he heals everyone else, and not himself. 

i’ve been checking critrole stats on this, and if i’m reading correctly, he has taken the most damage (157) in one episode than anyone else. and it’s not a small margin. the closest is yasha (129) and i’m almost certain that’s from the episode where she decided to literally get attacked until she passed out. i was trying to guess which episode this was from, and then it hit me: probably the episode where he fucking died, right? because it really just never came up again.

caduceus has: started to drown at least 3 times in his first month on the job, been killed by nott, been beaten near to death when yasha was charmed, and been very quietly and very badly stabbed in the back by a disappearing assassin. he’s also died at home, as a family tradition.

there’s a million better meta posts about caduceus’s relationship with death, or even about him not healing himself, but I just want to set it as potential precedent for the idea that caduceus, to some degree, sees value in himself as someone who doesn’t mind dying in a fight. for one thing, it’s been a temporary thing almost from day one with m9, as jester immediately invested in diamonds when they got back to town. it’s not his first rodeo, either, and his family has normalized death to an, and i say this more because of how it’s affected him rather than because i dislike the idea of normalizing death, an upsetting degree.

giving healing, that’s his job, but eliminating himself as someone who needs help or healing, well, that’s healing in a way, too, right? if he doesn’t get healed, it’s more for everyone else. worst comes to worst, jester can heal him if need be. or, y’know. not heal him.

caduceus’s relationship with m9 has noticeable transaction rhetoric, and i wonder where that really fits in with his family. obviously, his role in the family was implied as the one who stayed behind, and his parents definitely imparted a need for him to be stable, a role he’s continued to fill for m9 to his quiet detriment but i think he’s also jumped on the opportunity to finally be the older one, the wiser one, of the group. there’s a power caduceus has over the group that’s really understated— they just sort of listen to him, even if what he’s saying doesn’t actually make sense, because he started with nott, beau, and caleb as a wise savior, a protector, and upon finding the others, it’s not like jester, fjord, or yasha were filling that role. molly certainly wasn’t either— it’s funny, how in retrospect caduceus seems inevitable to the group because they really didn’t have anyone like him. the closest thing to a voice of reason they had was fjord and caleb, and early on, caleb was not in great standing because of his and nott’s perceived standoffishness, and fjord threw up ocean water, so like, what’s up with that, right?

at the very least, he definitely believes he owes the mighty nein something, a role to fill, a job to perform. a service to act out, if you will. his job is to heal, and he does less healing if he heals himself. he seems to view him taking a hit as a win, in a way— it’s a hit that someone else doesn’t take.

i have a lot of hope that reconnecting with his family and seeing how he’s grown while they haven’t allows him to revisit his notions of what he needs to be, and i have a lot of hope that moving forward, he’ll be able to invest more in the other motif he’s developed, which is gift-giving: fjord, with the star razor; his sisters, with the hat (which seems small but like. boy’s had it for a while) and the flute; and, most recently, in helping jester pick out everyone’s outfits. it allows him to feel like he’s giving something to the people he cares about without it hurting him.

yasha: 

truly everything. it’s hard to get a read because yasha really just soaks in all the love m9 wants to give her. if i had to guess further, i’d say we should look at her and molly’s relationship, because molly’s the only character we’ve seen her unabashedly love, and the thing that stood out most to me was physical touch. that echoes really depressingly with her “fight” in 89— she got something out of being that close to someone, even if it felt like reparation or atonement, and i think the only person in m9 who’s been really unafraid to touch yasha is jester.

i’ll admit i have a soft spot for yashter, but, like, it’s there, right? the obvious trust, the faith jester has in yasha and the fear and turmoil when that was tested? i remember really clearly jester giving yasha a piggyback ride in zadash in an early ep, and like— when’s the last time someone was strong enough to do that? when’s the last time someone wanted to do that for yasha? everyone’s mistrusted yasha to some degree for the entire run of the campaign, and, like, how much did her hopes to get close to everyone else just evaporate after the king’s cage? does she really even believe she can have it again? she was so close— jester trusted her fully, she and beau were in a comfortable mutual place with flirting, she’d talked to caduceus and jester about zuala, she even felt comfortable picking up nott and throwing her around (which, by the way, i love their dynamic).

she seems to have leaned more into the protective, threatening stance since they got her back, which, if she’s comfortable with it, is just fine— maybe she’s shifting more towards acts of service, but i just hope it isn’t her just accepting the idea that everyone will always be afraid of her, that she won’t be close like that again. because molly wasn’t afraid of her. jester wasn’t, and i don’t think she is, now— but fjord showed a lot of distrust, and i think yasha’s scared of the degree to which she hurt beau and how to even broach that discussion, and she attacked them, how could they ever forgive her or trust she wouldn’t do it again? 

(i wish i had a happier end to this, so i’ll just say that she did seem comfortable last ep, and that she may or may not have interest in getting a tattoo from jester? interesting stuff.)

veth: 

on a person to person level, veth definitely feels she and caleb are acting on the promise they’ve made to help each other— now she’s reached it, things are a bit more nebulous, but it’s obvious she wants to stick around for him. i’ll admit, her words to everyone in 97 were a bit surprising to me— she hasn’t really been good at conveying emotion like that before unless she’s desperate or really upset, and i imagine it was something she started planning in her head to say to everyone as soon as the first ritual didn’t work. that might be, i think, what she felt as relief, just not being able to articulate what she wanted to say to everyone.

as for her family, veth believes she owes her best self to yeza and luc— she kept herself from them not because she couldn’t have gone back, but because she felt like someone else, like someone worse, and the exaggerated tendencies from her previous life only reinforced this— she didn’t believe she deserved to be around them, before now. before caleb, i don’t know if she had any hope for returning to them at all, and he changed that entirely.

i’m also very interested in why veth is able to reconcile her marriage with yeza as veth with her loving caleb as nott, and if she sort of considers herself as two different people. we’ve seen so little of what she feels comfortable expecting from other people— for now, i’d say acts of service seems appropriate? but maybe something closer to just. fulfilling promises.

bonus: for the other two who are considered part of the mighty nein

kiri: 

words of affirmation. i’m a HUGE kenku stan, anyone who’s played d&d with me knows this, and i’m especially fascinated with the relationship with words when you can only speak the words you hear/remember. on the most basic level, if you speak to kiri, you are giving her a gift, you’re giving her the ability to speak, too. and if those words are affirming, then she can say them back! and you’re giving them to her, in a sense, to use as she pleases and repeat them to herself, even, and i just love that image— her, to herself, saying “i love you” in other people’s voices. i’m ride or die for kenkus, and kiri started it.

essek: 

okay, so almost everyone in the m9 could be read as needing words of affirmation, because it’s so clear that they need more love and knowledge of love than they’ve received, and have found it in each other. essek has quite literally found it in m9 for the first time. he absolutely needs all of these, like, ASAP, but i think it’s what everyone says to him that get him the most. caleb’s speech, obviously, but it’s also them casually referring to him as their friend, it’s jester’s messages, even if he’s busy. it’s important to say, though, that i think it’s a specific type of affirmation: things that have nothing to do with his magic ability (and moreover, any of these gifts that have nothing to do with it). essek’s built his entire life on the idea that he is someone incredibly powerful and smart for his age— m9 are probably the first people to make him feel like he was more than that, because they want to know about the rest of him, and in becoming friends with them, he’s confronting the fact that he doesn’t really believe there is a rest of him. they want to know a part of himself that he at best has neglected and has been neglected by others, and at worst that he believes does not exist. when they talk about him as a friend, it adds to who he can be. he’s seeing, for the first time, that he can exist as someone else than his abilities and his ambition.

i initially started off with words of affirmation and he clearly needs that, but i think he really just needs all of these in a very specific way: he needs to feel love that is not based in merit, that pertains to who he actually is in this life rather than what he can become in the next, that values the life he’s living right now, because he’s not getting that from the dynasty. it seems like a low bar, maybe, to people who only have the one life, as far as we know, but his arc this campaign shows that it really, really isn’t.

#my writing #cr meta #critical role #critical role meta #jester lavorre #beauregard lionett #fjord stone #caleb widogast #veth brenatto #nott the brave #yasha #kiri #kiri the kenku #essek thelyss #with hints of: #shadowgast #beaujester #yashter #beauyashter #bashter #fjolly #teahaw #fjorclay #the mighty nein #m9 #uff da #long post #stupidly long post

[passionate-reply]

This week on Great Albums: a deeper dive into one of the most underrated early synth-pop acts. You’ve heard “Fade to Grey” by now, I’m sure, but this record is weirder and wilder than you might imagine! Find out more by watching the video or reading the transcript below the break.

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! Today, I’ll be discussing one of the first opening salvos of the New Romantic movement: the 1980 self-titled debut album by Visage. You could be forgiven for assuming that Visage was the alias of a single person, presumably the dapper fellow all over their brand, but Visage were, indeed, a group!

That “face of the band” figure was Steve Strange, who was less of a musician and more of a tastemaker and aesthete, and the club promoter for London’s famous nightclub, The Blitz. The Blitz’s DJ, Rusty Egan, was also a percussionist, and had previously played in the punk band Rich Kids, where he became acquainted with Midge Ure. Famous for his many connections and skill at leveraging them, Egan put together a sort of dream team out of the many musicians he knew at the time: Ure, who’d been orphaned by the dissolution of Rich Kids, Billy Currie, one-time synthesist of Ultravox before their group split apart, and several members of Buzzcocks alumnus Howard Devoto’s band Magazine. A bit of a motley crew, for sure...but one can’t argue with the success Visage would achieve.

Music: “Fade to Grey”

“Fade to Grey” is surely one of the most iconic songs of early 80s synth-pop, and its music video pushed forth a bold new aesthetic for the new decade: sophisticated, futuristic, androgynous. While Steve Strange would consistently reject the “New Romantic” label for his own work, his influence on the scene was undeniable. “Fade to Grey” strikes a balance between being debonair and mysterious, with its ghostly vocal reverb, and being a straight-up club classic, with an absolutely massive synth riff. The inclusion of a French-language translation of the main lyrics gives it a lot of European panache, and may well have been one of the main factors propelling it to international success--“Fade to Grey” was actually an even bigger hit in markets like France and Germany than in Visage’s native UK. That aside, though, as is so often the case with these famous 80s songs, the rest of this album is not to be missed! If you’re looking for another song with a bit of a similar vibe to their famous hit, I think you can’t go wrong with its opening track and final single, also titled “Visage.”

Music: “Visage”

There’s something really satisfying about a track, artist, AND album all having the same name--the triple threat! Still, I think this album’s title track stands well enough on its own, with a soaring refrain that’s quite easy to sing along to. While this album doesn’t get quite as “baroque” as Ultravox would, on tracks like their famous hit “Vienna,” the dry piano used throughout this track really classes the place up. Thematically, the title track seems to assert the importance of fashion and style, as well as the importance of innovating in those fields--“New styles, new shapes, new modes.” While lots of electronic acts were fixated on the future, Visage were one of the first to center aesthetics to such a dramatic degree. Plenty of people, both at the time and more recently, would criticize New Romantic acts of the MTV era for being “style over substance,” as though their embrace of the parallel art form of fashion inherently made their music worse. I’ve never understood that criticism myself, since it’s perfectly possible to care about, or excel at, more than one creative pursuit at once. At any rate, the title track’s focus on novelty contrasts quite strikingly with the preceding single, “Mind of a Toy.”

Music: “Mind of a Toy”

“Mind of a Toy” is a surprisingly high-concept song in comparison to the album’s other singles, narrating the thoughts of a plaything that’s lost its lustre, and has been discarded in favour of newer and better diversions. It feels like a pointed criticism of the consumerist obsession with novelty, and a counterpoint to the apparent thesis of the title track. It’s perhaps also a sort of critique of the way popular music disposes of so many of its once-loved idols--who, like puppets, are often controlled by unseen outside forces. You’ll also find several tracks that push into more experimental territory on the album, to a degree that may be surprising if you’re only familiar with the big hit. The eerie, cinematic instrumental “The Steps” is perhaps the most striking example, and closing the album on this note is certainly a bold decision!

Music: “The Steps”

The album’s cover features Steve Strange dancing with a woman, in a starkly lit, greyscale composition that recalls early photography. In the background, we can see the shadows of several instrumental musicians--perhaps a nod to the composition of the band itself, in which the composers and instrumentalists happily hid behind the facade of Strange’s attention-grabbing persona. What’s perhaps most interesting about it is the fact that despite having a dance partner, Strange’s attention seems to be focused entirely on us, the viewers. He seems to meet our gaze, with a vigour and intensity that borders on confrontational.

Before “New Romantic” took such a strong hold as the term for this movement, one of the contenders for its name was “peacock punk.” I’ve always liked the way that alternative phrase communicates the brash, almost macho nature of its seemingly fey male frontmen, whose gender-bending style was often rooted in self-confidence that bordered on bravado. I think Steve Strange’s fixed gaze on the cover of this album embodies this principle of “peacocking,” and lavishing attention on one’s personal aesthetic in a daring, perhaps even aggressively counter-cultural manner. While a lot of this music, and its associated visual culture, has been dismissed as some sort of yuppie frippery, it takes some serious balls to transgress ideas about gender as much as the New Romantics did, and I’d say it’s pretty damn punk.

This album is, of course, self-titled, which I suppose could be seen as a sort of throwaway non-decision. But I think the use of “Visage” for the title calls attention to the idea their name represents. A “visage” is, literally, a face, but the connotation of the word is certainly a bit loftier and more refined than that. A visage is less likely to be an everyday face, and more likely to be a metaphorical or symbolic “face”--a front for something, a representation of some greater idea. While Strange and company couldn’t see the future, they of course ended up being the representative front for the coming wave of stylish, synthesiser-driven pop, even if they weren’t at the crest of it for too long.

After their debut, Visage would go on to release one more LP with their original line-up, 1982’s The Anvil. Less experimental, and more indebted to disco and dance music, The Anvil would produce two more charting singles, “Night Train” and “The Damned Don’t Cry,” though neither of them would reach the same heights of international success as “Fade to Grey.”

Music: “Night Train”

Later in the 1980s, Billy Currie and Midge Ure would become increasingly committed to their work with the re-formed Ultravox, and they left Steve Strange and Rusty Egan to continue the Visage project on their own. The two of them released one more album under the Visage name in 1984, but when that was panned, they went back to running the Blitz Club together.

In 2013, Steve Strange decided to return to making music, and revive the “Visage” name. While his untimely death in 2015 would cut this era short, Strange released one full album, and recorded enough material for a followup that it could be released posthumously. Though Strange is no longer with us, Rusty Egan has become quite keen on the idea of a Visage reunion of some sort in the past year or two, possibly involving Midge Ure, Billy Currie, and/or fellow New Romantic heartthrob Zaine Griff, who I think could fill Strange’s shoes better than just about anybody. It sounds quite promising, so we’ll have to stay tuned.

My favourite track from this album is “Tar,” which was actually released ahead of the album, in 1979, but failed to attract much notice. It was love at first listen for me, though--I love the way the chorus rises so triumphantly, only to fall back down into its screwy, glitchy synth hook. Besides that abrasive touch, the theme of the song is also a bit out there: it’s a somewhat patronizing number all about the repulsiveness of cigarette smoking. Perhaps now that fewer people are smokers, this premise will come across as less alienating than it did at the time! That’s all I’ve got for today, thanks for listening.

Outro: “Tar”

#music #visage #steve strange #album review #album reviews #great albums

[sinceileftyoublog]

Shannon Lay Interview: A Still Spirit

Photo by Kai MacKnight

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“Have you always been who you are?” asks Shannon Lay on “Rare to Wake”, the opening track to her incredible new album Geist, out tomorrow via Sub Pop. She presents these type of earth-shattering questions with remarkable calm, though they entered her mind with anything but. The songs on Geist--the German word for “spirit”--came out of an intense period of self-reflection for Lay. In 2019, she released and toured on the terrific August, on which she observed the headspace of others, from Nick Drake’s mother Molly to a spider on a stack of records. After that, she began an inward process that, ironically, wouldn’t have been able to happen without the forced break of a global pandemic. Realizing that she perceived many aspects of her creative life past and present (which included working at a vintage clothing store, playing in the punk band Feels, and playing in Ty Segall’s Freedom Band) as brought upon by external forces, she took the opportunity to craft herself anew.

For many artists, songs that are born out of the desire to leave their comfort zone tend to be their most abrasive-sounding. Geist is instead Lay’s most beautiful and gentle record, played with a nylon-string acoustic guitar, her vocals and guitar recorded before she sent the tunes out to other musicians to add their own layers. That it was recorded this way yields a record that’s warm and oscillates gently on songs like “Sure” and “Time’s Arrow”. None of the songs even reach what sounds like a full-band choogle--the closest it comes is the end of “Rare to Wake” and “Untitled”, which has the only audible percussion on the record--but the record is rich in its assured calm. At the center of it all is Lay’s smoky voice, layered a capella on “Awaken and Allow” and traveling with her guitar on the album’s title track.

I spoke with Lay over the phone from her home in Pasadena, CA last month about Geist, her creative process, and cover songs. Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: What about Geist is unique as compared to anything else you’ve ever released?

Shannon Lay: With this one, the biggest difference was being more comfortable with what I felt called to offer. From the background of music I did and the scene I grew up in, when I started presenting my solo music, it always felt like it had to be edgy, tough, cool, or punk. There had to be something rough about it. With this one, I just embraced the fact that one of my specialties is creating really beautiful music. I’m so happy that I did, because the result really is this beautiful experience. I think it’s because I became so much clearer with the goal of it. I wasn’t so confused and wrapped up in the identities I had accumulated beforehand. 

SILY: Did that goal influence your decision to release “Rare to Wake” before even announcing the album?

SL: Yeah, totally. We also knew [Geist] would be a very appropriate fall record, so we saw this long span of time between finishing and releasing it, so it felt appropriate to trickle out songs. It seems that’s how people are digesting music now anyways, in smaller increments. It felt nice to present the single and make a video for it that felt appropriate.

SILY: It’s jacket weather here, finally. We just turned the heat on. Listening to Geist earlier today, I could tell it will be a popular record throughout the season.

SL: Oh, I love that! Yay! I know, I had my first jacket day the other day here, too, and then it went back to 100 degrees. But I really enjoyed it. [laughs]

SILY: Is “Rare to Wake” inspired by Dune?

SL: Yeah. I had never seen David Lynch’s version. It blew my mind, the content and message behind it. It really got my wheels turning. [Protagonist] Paul in the movie really has to prove to himself that he is who he is, and I think we’re all on that journey, but the conclusion of it is we’ve always been who we are and everything we can be. We’re just on different steps of the journey to that. [laughs] The new [Dune] looks pretty good.

SILY: Are you gonna see it in theaters?

SL: Oh yeah. I love movies where that’s the way you have to see it, in a theater. This one for sure is gonna be like that. 

SILY: On the track “Awaken and Allow”, when you sing, “I have to get out of California / The days go by like smoke in the wind,” is that a reference to the wildfires?

SL: Oh man, it wasn’t, but that is an appropriate interpretation. I like that. California basically represents my comfort zone in my life. I grew up here, I’ve always lived here, and I think that line was a poetic way of saying, “I need to step out of what makes me comfortable in order to grow.” If you don’t, time can slip away, and you can excuse the things you’re called to do because you’re fine where you’re at. It’s about challenging yourself, and California is just really safe and easy for me.

SILY: The title of the album is the German word for “spirit.” What led you to that word and in that language?

SL: I was actually looking through a 1930s music vocabulary book, all these cool words used to reference different moments in music or levels of playing and types of instruments and singing. That word came up in there. I loved the conciseness of it. It felt very appropriate. This record, I wanted it to be this very dense content delivered in a very gentle way. Disguising the word “spirit” in this kind of mystical sound-- “geist” is almost a sound--felt like a nice way to tie everything together. The whole time I was writing this, I was reflecting on the human spirit, how adaptable it is and how persevering it could be, [as I was] watching everyone go through hard times and triumphs. People finding themselves and taking the opportunity to get to know themselves and new ways of being. It was cool to hear people’s stories trickle in as I reconnected with folks. It’s a definite nod to how strong we are. I feel like “spirit” can have a religious context to some people. The problem with self-improvement in general is it can be off-putting with the way it’s worded, so “geist” felt like a poetic way of lightening the load of what I was handing you.

SILY: Was wanting to touch on adaptability and strength in the face of challenges directly inspired by anything going on in your life during the writing process?

SL: Before the pandemic even started, I was feeling a lot of cracks forming in my foundation. Who I was and who I thought I identified with was slipping away, and I couldn’t hold on to it anymore. I felt this need to drop it. It was like holding something really slippery. I dropped it all and was trying to rebuild as the pandemic hit. It was really an amazing opportunity to me to surrender and explore within myself a fresh start. It occurred to me that everything I thought I was, was built up from other people and their beliefs, attitudes, and behaviors. We’re these sponges in the world, and I had picked up a lot of stuff that wasn’t mine. I began this process of sorting through. The first thing I did was recognizing what I wanted to keep and what I wanted to work on. It was an intense process, and I don’t think I could have done it continuing to exist in the world as I was, pretending like I was okay. It allowed me to fall apart in this really amazing way that gave me a vantage point to all the broken pieces I could put back together in a much more stable, nurturing way.

SILY: Is this identity reclamation process part of your embracing your Irish roots in “Awaken and Allow”? It sounds like a traditional Irish folk song.

SL: I felt very connected to that, for sure. I think it’s a big part of who I am and where my family came from. I’m hopefully gonna go there next year. I’m so excited; I’ve never been. It’s good to keep falling down that rabbit hole. It felt like the first glimpse of the river that runs through everyone’s culture you can go to and take home. It was a cool experience having that song happen kind of organically. I felt very connected to ancestral energy. 

SILY: "Awaken and Allow” and “Rare to Wake” share a quality with the album in general: It sounds like it’s precluding something else, in a good way. The first time I heard “Rare to Wake”, I expected it to go into a full band jam at the end, but it stops. The a capella in “Awaken and Allow”, and “Untitled”, which has the only audible percussion on the record, made me think that because you expect the songs to go somewhere else but they don’t, it almost serves to reemphasize the importance of the present moment.

SL: Oh, I love that so much. I absolutely had the intention of a lot of stillness surrounding this record. It kind of requires you to have a moment of calm. Music all serves such different purposes...with this one, when I was figuring out what I wanted to put out into the world, in this moment in time, it feels like we all need as many reminders as possible to just sit there and be. We’re brought up to do, which is cool, too, but something about sitting and breathing and feeling your life force, everyone should experience that at some point. For people who feel like the world is happening to them, that kind of victim mentality. If you just take a minute to appreciate the fact that you can hear your heartbeat if you listen long enough or take a deep breath into your lungs. I wanted to promote moments like that, and I love that you got that out of it. It’s perfect.

SILY: I think living in the present is something that a lot of people have learned to do, almost by necessity, during long periods of isolation.

SL: Yeah. It’s a tough time for sure. It’s easy to feel like it’s happening to you. It’s either an excuse or an opportunity, and to make it an excuse is all too appealing. My gosh, it’s so nice to have that to reach for, because then nothing’s your fault. It’s all happening to you! When you flip your perspective, it’s such divine timing, and you’re absolutely meant to be wherever you’re meant to be. Even if it’s a difficult spot, there’s knowledge in that moment you need to search for. It’s so important to remember. It all comes back to being present. [laughs]

SILY: On August, you covered Karen Dalton. On Geist, you cover Syd Barrett’s “Late Night”. When did you first hear “Late Night”, and why did you decide to include it? Do you think including a cover is going to become a tradition on all of your records?

SL: I love covers so much. I love taking artists that more people should know about and giving them a little shoutout. Karen Dalton, ever since August has come out--and I’m not saying it’s me who did this--but I’ve noticed buzz around her. This documentary [Karen Dalton: In My Own Time] is coming out. It’s cool that these people who were maybe not so appreciated in their moment can now leave this legacy. The ripple effect of music is so incredible. Syd Barrett was one of those people, too. That guy was a weirdo, man. The music he made kind of reminds me of Arthur Russell. The first time you hear it, you may not like it. You have to sit with it and be in the right mood. It’s so beautiful and so off-kilter and has this very child-like maturity about it. “Late Night” especially has this innocence, but so much wisdom. It’s a really wild combo, and I feel it every time I play or listen to that song. He had that magical mix of being 80 and 8 at the same time. [laughs] It’s so weird.

When I try a cover, I don’t like to push it too hard. If it doesn’t come out immediately, I just move on. With [“Late Night”], I tried it, and it felt so nice and natural. Working on the harmonies was fun, and it felt like it had a place within this record. There’s an embrace of change and a loving yourself vibe within this record but a lot of projecting love outward and loving people and appreciating the relationships that have come and gone in your life. That song sums that up so beautifully.

SILY: I agree with you about Arthur Russell. It’s not sounds you traditionally associate with being beautiful, but when you listen to them and take it for what it is, it very much is beautiful. I think I feel the same way about someone like Kate Bush.

SL: Yes! The true weridos. Just pure freaks in the best sense of the word.

SILY: I’m not trying to think of others like that. Daniel Johnston, too.

SL: Absolutely!

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art for this record?

SL: I reconnected with an old friend during the pandemic, and we ended up falling madly in love. We knew each other in middle school and were actually each other’s first kiss in middle school. We drifted apart as we got older and came back together. He became this really crucial piece of the visual aspects of this record. He directed all three of the music videos I did for it and took both of the cover photos. He lives in the Lincoln Heights area of Los Angeles, and there’s all these amazing hills around there. You walk up these craggy little paths, and all of a sudden, you’re on top of the world. On his street, there was this house that used to be there but got torn down, and the wall behind me was the retaining wall very poorly keeping the dirt held up behind me. [laughs] I loved the idea of presenting the confidence I was feeling grow within me on this record. I wanted to include the instrument I used as well, since everything came out of that Nylon-string guitar. 

We did these photos on film, so when we got them back, I thought, “This is it. This is how I feel in a really cool visual representation.” It was this very baller confident chick standing in front of this huge crack that I felt happen within myself. My whole self was shattered at the beginning of this journey, and it was this process of picking up the pieces. This image was so good, and on the back is this photo of me cracking up in the same position, which is the perfect juxtaposition. Another thing we have to remember in this life is to not take ourselves too seriously. It’s so important to have fun and be light about even the heaviest of things. It’s just a way to carry around less weight. It felt classic--I felt very inspired by classic country records, really straightforward, “Here’s the photo, some colors, and a great font.” [It's] so serious on the front, and you turn it over, and you’re like, “Oh yeah, this is all in good fun.”

SILY: It’s got some Gram Parsons energy.

SL: Yeah, totally. I can’t wait to get the vinyl. The yellow, we put this cool texture on it. It’s gonna look really beautiful.

SILY: Have you played these songs live?

SL: Yes, it’s been really fun. I’ve actually been practicing here with a stand-up bass player and a keyboard player who also sings. It’s been really, really fun to bring them to life. It requires this delicate touch that if it lines up just right, it’s powerful in its simplicity. I’m just obsessed! I’m playing a solo show tonight where I play most of the record because I can’t get enough of playing these songs. They feel so good and fit in so well with the electric stuff I do during the set.

SILY: Do you have any other covers you’re doing on this tour?

SL: I’m doing a good amount of solo shows, and I really like including Sibylle Baier covers. She was a really big influence on this record, and I was going to include one of her covers, but I don’t want to just cover the song and play the song. I want to put my own spin on it, but her songs are perfect as is. I’ll definitely do “Late Night”. I’m always down for covers. I always have a couple Arthur Russell covers in my pocket. Those are the best. 

SILY: When I saw you at Lincoln Hall, you and your band did an a capella version of “Everybody Everybody”.

SL: Yes! That is to this day one of my proudest accomplishments. [laughs]

SILY: Are you the type of songwriter who is always writing songs? Are you working on anything?

SL: I’m not! I feel very called to rest at the moment. I’m trying to reenter things so I can honor the fact that I’m not built to tour all year and only say yes to the things that feel really genuinely good. I’m really excited to see what comes next, because part of what’s hard about being creative is learning to honor and trust your process. One ingredient that gets introduced that could be avoided a lot of the time is worry. I’m trying to notice the pattern of my creativity and in the moments I don’t feel called to write, know that one day I’m gonna wake up and it’s gonna feel so good to go in there and go nuts and lose track of time and forget to eat and get lost in the flow. I think Neil Young said it: “If it’s not comin’, just mow the lawn.” I moved into a house by myself in February and have just been nesting, so that’s been really nice.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately that you’ve enjoyed?

SL: I just finished [Dr. Nicole LePera’s] How to Do the Work, which is a great book that came out recently if you feel called to work on yourself and work on your behavioral patterns. It’s a really helpful book of stories and experiences from this one doctor. She has this Instagram called The Holistic Psychologist. She’s great. I just started [Steven Pressfield’s] The War of Art, which talks a lot about how you can get in the way of your creativity. It’s a very triggering book, so I’m gonna keep reading it. [laughs] It talks a lot about resistance and the way that we self-sabotage. I see so much of the things I wouldn’t really think of as self-sabotage in there. I just rewatched The Matrix trilogy after I saw the new one was coming out, which was fantastic. I’m always down for some Keanu. I’ve been listening to a lot of 90′s dance, or Steven Halpern meditation music. I’m either sleeping or dancing.

#interviews #shannon lay #sub pop #geist #kai macknight #august #nick drake #molly drake #feels #ty segall #freedom band #dune #david lynch #karen dalton #karen dalton: in my own time #syd barrett #arthur russell #kate bush #daniel johnston #gram parsons #sibylle baier #lincoln hall #dr. nicole lepera #how to do the work #the holistic psychologist #steven pressfield #the war of art #the matrix #keanu reeves #steven halpern