#the partition happened when my grandparents were little | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

buckyscrystalqueen · 4 years

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Meant To Be: Part 8

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drug use

Word Count: 5,139

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

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“Do you have everything we need?” Colson asked as he walked off stage in Japan after his last of four shows in the country.

“It’s all waiting in the car.” You said with a nod as you popped the locks on Gage’s stroller and turned it toward the exit door. “We gotta hurry.”

“I’m there. I’m there.” He said as he ripped off the battery pack to his headphones and tossed them on top of a speaker on his way out the door.

“Here.” Ashleigh said as she ran up with a small bag that had a change of clothes, a package of body wipes that had decent reviews on Amazon, and his wallet, passport, and cellphone. “Flight leaves in three hours and it’s still on time.”

“Where’s Sawyer?” You asked as you paused at the back door and turned around to look for her.

“I’m here!” She yelled as she came running from the bathroom while fixing her belt as she went. “We’re good.” She said with a nod as she pushed open the back door and stepped out of the way for you.

“Lawyer will be waiting for you at the airport in NC to go over your case.” Ashleigh continued as she followed you out to the waiting car. “I put all the paperwork you need in the diaper bag.”

“And our clothes?”

“I’ve got them in the back.” You said as you stopped at the back door of the SUV and pulled your sleeping son in his carseat off the stroller.

“Here, you don’t need to be lifting that shit.” Colson said as he took the carseat out of your hands and climbed into the back seat with it while Sawyer folded up the stroller and pushed it to the back with your bags.

“Good luck, guys.” Baze said as he stopped at the door and helped you and your slightly significant, 10 week along bump into the car. “We’ll see you in the UK.”

“Don’t kill anyone.” Slim laughed as he shot you a look. “And take care of our babies.”

“As opposed to what, leaving them on the tarmac?” You teased as you buckled in the carseat.

“You got this.” Rook said before kissing his girlfriend goodbye for a few days. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Alright, they gotta go.” Ash said as she pushed everyone back a couple steps to close the doors. You all said your goodbyes, and settled back into the seats for a moment as the driver pulled away from the venue and headed toward the airport.

“OK, check the paperwork again.” Colson said as he pulled open his bag and grabbed the body wipes to get the post concert sweat off his body without a shower.

“It’s all there.” Sawyer said as you turned in your spot and grabbed the diaper bag from the back. “And I threw copies in my bag as well. We’re gunna be…”

“Don’t say we’re gunna be fine.” You snapped as you looked up at her through your lashes as you previously calmer self completely unraveled. “Fuck, can everyone just stop saying that shit. I could lose my fucking son tomorrow and I could be signing my second child straight to my mother’s arms in the same fucking swing. Nothing’s fucking fine, here.”

“OK.” Sawyer said softly, not taking offense to your anger in that moment as you pulled out the paperwork and the outline you had meticulously written out for yourself to go over them again.

“Where are we starting?” Colson asked as he wiped his arms down roughly, to keep himself from shaking with the nervousness you had both felt for the past three weeks since you got the custody papers.

“The DCF case.” You said as you pulled the list free of the paperclip and set it on Gage’s lap between you and Colson. “I have the case notes from the investigator and our social worker and the screened out letter and copies of all of it.”

“Our social worker’s number is on there, right?” Kels asked as he pulled off his jeans and set them aside to ‘wash’ from his hips down.

“I have a copy of her card stapled to both copies of the case notes.” You said as you checked both copies to triple check that the cards were still there.

“Medical’s next?” Colson asked as he glanced at the back of Sawyer’s head to make sure her attention was elsewhere before stripping off his dirty boxers and grabbing clean ones.

“Birth certificate…” You started with a sigh as you moved the DCF paperwork to the bottom of the pile for the next group. “NICU records, hospital records, Cali pediatrician records, North Carolina pediatrician record and notes, Cali number two pediatrician records. Check, check, check, and check.”

“And the records for the new baby?”

“Got those too if the judge needs them.”

“OK.” Colson sighed with a nod as he pulled on his clean shirt and used another one of the wipes to try and get the sweat out of his hair and off his flushed face. “What’s next?”

“Next is Sawyer and her records. Then the video files, and after that is your tour schedules for last and this year, the tour photos, and the receipts for the house and the bus baby proofing.” You looked over at the father of your children as he sighed and let his hands fall into his lap.

“Fuck, man… please don’t take my fucking kids.” A sob caught in your throat and you looked out the window as he reached across to hold your hand on Gage’s stomach. You couldn’t say anything to comfort him, same as there was nothing more he could say to comfort you, and Sawyer simply stayed silent in the seat in front of you. Colson smoked a quick joint, making sure to blow his smoke out the window for you and Gage, and chain smoked two cigarettes in the few minutes it took Sawyer to check herself, you, and Kels in to your flight. With the carseat in one hand and the other on your back, he lead you through the airport behind his body guard, through security, and to the plane.

“I won’t get on another plane without him.” Colson said after nearly an hour of silence as he sat down in his first class seat with Gage in his arms. You looked over at him through stress related exhausted eyes as he brushed his thumb across his son’s cheek. “I’ll cancel the fucking tour, I’ll even fucking catch a charge for murder and live in a third world country with you for the rest of my Goddamn life. But I will not lose my family again. I won’t fucking make it.” You nodded with tears in your eyes as he looked up at you with a shake of his head.

“I’m with you.” You whispered as you put your hand on his knee with a nod. “Even if we have to Bonnie and Clyde the fuck out of this situation, I’m with you.”

“I love you.” He whispered as he shifted in his seat so you could lay your head down on his shoulder to cry yourself to sleep.

“I love you, too.”

——

“Hey, stay with me.” Colson said softly as he reached over and gently pushed on your jaw with his fingers so you would focus on him and not your mother at the next table as you waited for the judge. “Right here, baby girl.”

“I wanna just jump over this fucking table.” You growled under your breath as you held Gage on your lap as he bounced up and down on your slack covered thighs.

“And we’re not doing that because of the kids, right?” He clarified as he moved to purposely catch your eye as he himself fought his own urge to strangle your mother. You both startled the slightest bit when the bailiff told everyone to stand up, and you took a deep breath as you got to your feet for a moment.

“Be seated.” Judge Kevin Bosch said as he took a seat behind the raised bench in the corner of the small room. “We’re here today for a grandparent custodial claim?” He clarified as he looked at the court documentation your mother had submitted.

“Yes sir.” Her lawyer, whose name you didn’t catch, said with a nod as he organized his papers at his table. “We have documentation proving that Mr. Colson Baker, aka Machine Gun Kelly, aka Kels, aka MGK and Ms. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) have severely neglected their son, Gage Michael Baker since they have left North Carolina and the safe environment my client had offered the child.”

“What evidence?” Judge Bosch asked as he looked up from the file on his desk when Gage started to ask for his juice. Sawyer, who was there to be a witness for you, jumped to her feet behind you and carefully took Gage from over the partition with a smile so that he wouldn’t disrupt the trial.

“She is their nanny, sir.” Your lawyer, Ally clarified for the judge with a smile as she sat almost perfectly still, biding her time until it was her turn to speak because she knew with all of your paperwork there was no way she was losing. The judge nodded his head and took the evidence your mother had brought with her.

“What am I looking at?” He asked as he looked away from Sawyer and Gage as they slipped out the door and down at the photos in his hand.

“Those are the living conditions of my daughter’s apartment.” Your mom said as she sat up a little more in her chair for her turn on the soap box. “Theres a few photos of a bruise on my grandson’s thigh from his father… who he lives with now. And there are a few photos that I had to find on the internet because she refused to let me see my grandson to check on his well being and instead, took him to rock show in the middle of a heat wave where there were drugs and drinking present. You can see my grandson’s father smoking marijuana in most of those photos and doing who knows what other drugs near my grandson. They are not fit parents, your honor.”

“If I may, your honor.” Ally said as she picked up your stack of paperwork. “The apartment that Mrs. (Y/L/N) is referring to is an apartment that my clients have not lived in in four years. I do, however have photographs from an unannounced DCF visit and from the professional company that installed their baby proofing in the house my clients and their son live in now. As far as the bruise Mrs. (Y/L/N) is referring to, I again, have documentation from a pediatrician here in North Carolina and a cell phone video that showed the incident happening.

Mr. Baker was holding his son in the hotel room they had been staying in as my clients were working out some personal issues. Mr. Baker was dancing with his son and turned a little too sharply and Gage’s leg hit the edge of the bathroom door. Ms. (Y/L/N) and Mr. Baker immediately took their child to his doctor because they were both scared something bigger had happened besides just the simple bruise the child received, which wasn’t the case. We have the rest of the child’s medical records here as well for you to peruse if you so choose showing that there is no other incidents or any indication of physical abuse and that my clients have made and kept every appointment to date with their son’s pediatrician.”

“Let me see those.” Judge Bosch said as he set your moms photos to the side and held his hand out for your paperwork. Ally nodded and picked up the top two and the bottom sections of paper clipped papers to hand to the bailiff.

“The tour…” Colson tried to say but Ally shushed him softly and tapped his arm.

“Just wait.” She whispered as she pat his arm briefly. He nodded his head as you reached out and grabbed his hand when the judge started flipping quickly through your paperwork. Ally waited until he made it to the last packet before continuing. “Now, as far as Mrs. (Y/L/N)’s last point, along with the photos of the work my clients have done on their house, they have also done the same work on Mr. Bakers tour bus.”

“How often do you go on tour, Mr. Baker?” The judge asked as he looked up at Colson.

“It varies… sir.” He said as he sat up impossibly straighter beside you. “I… we actually flew here from Japan where I am on tour right now. Tours last between two and three months… I have a schedule…”

“He goes on tour once maybe twice a year.” You said for him as solidly as you could. “In between tours, occasionally, he makes an appearance at a music festival and he also sponsors his own festival in Ohio. That festival is where I assume the photos my mother found are from. But I also have photos from that weekend that I had put up on my personal Instagram account.” Judge Bosch nodded and held his hand up for the photos, which you and Colson scrambled to grab, along with the tour schedules, copies of all the checks you wrote to Sawyer for watching Gage for you so that there was a paper trail, and the USB drive you had of nearly every home video you had on your and Colson’s phones that involved your son.

“Our son was never in harms way at that festival.” You continued as you reached for Colson’s hand under the table because you had nothing else left for your case. “Cols… Mr. Baker and I made sure that he had sunscreen applied every hour and a half like the bottle said. We made sure he had fans on him at all times if he wasn’t playing in the RV, he was given juice and water mixed so that he wouldn’t get dehydrated, when I had him in the carrier so that we could see C… Mr. Baker preform, he had noise canceling headphones on the entire time so his hearing wasn’t affected at all…”

“And we have had his hearing checked twice since we got back just to make sure and so we’d know for future shows.” Colson said as he held on to your hand as tightly as you were holding his. “Sir, we are not bad parents. Sure, we have tattoos, and we don’t work your typical nine to five gig. Yes, she used to model for Penthouse and I have a recording studio in my house that I sometimes spend a little too much time in… but Gage isn’t in any danger with us. In fact, that kid is probably safer with our crazy, over protective asses than he would be with anyone else…”

“Please watch your language, Mr. Baker.” The judge said as he set down all the papers and looked up at the two of you. Colson nodded his head and you sat forward as a single tear spilled over on your cheek.

“Sir, please. Please don’t take our son away from us. I am not the horrible mother my own mother is trying to make me out to be, and Colson is not an abusive father either. Our only fault here is we smoke a little weed after Gage goes to bed or when we know someone else is with him that can be more responsible than we can be for a few hours since it’s legal in California. But sir, we have both fought through a lot of personal shhhhh… stuff to make sure that he is a safe, healthy, loved little boy. Please… just watch the videos. Watch them and then tell me that we have not done everything we can to be the best parents we can be. Please…”

“We’re gunna take a short recess.” The judge said as he collected all of the documents you had brought him. “I have a lot to look over.” You bobbed your head in agreement and only made it part of the way out of your chair when the judge exited, before you simply collapsed back down in your chair.

“I can’t fucking do this.” You sighed, before your head whipped up at your favorite ‘Mama’ in the entire world. You forced a smile on your face and stood up as Sawyer walked down the far side of the benches in the back of the room with Gage on her hip.

“Hey baby boy.” You cooed as you took him from your friend and sat back down in your chair. “Did you have your juice? And did you get it all over your nice shirt?” You laughed as you turned your son around to face his dad. “This is all you.”

“Oh, that is so not all me.” Colson huffed as he held on to Gage’s hands so he could walk down your thighs and onto his. “Have you ever seen you eat ice cream in bed?”

“We watched the ducks.” Sawyer said with a giggle as you scowled at your boyfriend. “And we had juice and one of the ladies at the desk gave us a package of those cheese crackers he loves.”

“You mean the ones you love that you give my son so you can eat them?” You teased as you sat back in your chair and folded your hands on your bump.

“Yea, those ones.” You nodded your head slowly and slowly rocked yourself back and forth, while trying to force yourself not to look over at your mother.

“Can I ask how it went?”

“It went.” Colson sighed as he stood up to grab a book from the diaper bag beside your friend to pass the time.

“We gave him everything we had, shy of getting on our knees to suck his cock.” You said as you looked over at her. “And now all I can think about is what more we could have done.”

“You can’t think like that.” Ally said as she scooted her chair back and turned toward you. “We have a very strong case here. You and your lawyer did a very good job of setting it up.”

“Yea, but we’re tattooed parents that travel the world and take our clothes off for a living.” Colson said as he flipped the page so Gage could keep ‘reading’ to the pair of you.

“And that doesn’t make you bad parents.” Ally replied. “Especially with what I have seen the last couple days going over everything you sent me.”

“Guess we’ll wait and see.” You sighed as you propped your head up on your fist and moved your eyes to your son’s cherub face until they told you that you wouldn’t be able to look anymore.

——

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your legs to move to bring yourself vertical. The only thing you could do was shake your head and cry, like you had been doing for nearly thirty minutes since you saw a man from the North Carolina DCF walk into the back of the court room to sit and wait.

“Be seated.” Judge Bosch said as he sat down with the stacks of papers you and your mom had given him in one hand and the USB stick in the other. “Give that back to them.” You looked up for a moment at the bailiff as he returned your flash drive while the judge looked at Gage, who was contently eating goldfish one at a time at a nearly glacial pace because he was distracted by ‘Word World’ on your old iPad to keep him calm. Colson nervously reached out and held on to your knee under the table in preparation for the worst.

“You know… I have been doing this job for thirty seven years. I have seen thousands of family walk through those doors for so many different reasons, and hundreds of them were grandparents looking to give their grandchildren a better life than the one they have. But usually, the cases that are presented to my court room are worth my time. This is not one of those cases. This…” He sighed as he held up all the paperwork in his hand. “Was easily an open and closed case in my eyes.” Your heart felt like it stopped in your chest and you buried your face in Gage’s hair while Colson’s grip tightened even more on your knee as his hands started to shake.

“Now, I may not agree with your choice of lifestyle, Mr. Baker, but after looking at all the paperwork and all the videos and photos you and Ms. (Y/L/N) have presented, I honestly had to wonder if my own children would be considered neglected by the impressive parenting style the two of you have.” Your heart started beating faster and your hand flew out to hold Colson’s wrist as you both waited for the other shoe to drop. “Mrs. (Y/L/N), I don’t know what your intention here was, but my assumption is you have successfully managed to sever any familial ties you had with your daughter and your grandson after this. Mr. Baker… Ms. (Y/L/N)… I won’t waste any more of your time here. Take your son home.” The moment the words left his mouth, you let out a strangled, choked sob and hugged your son even closer to your chest. Colson whipped around in his chair and fell over with his head on your shoulder.

“Oh, fuck.” He choked as he kissed the side of Gage’s head. “Holy fuck.”

“You can take him home.” Ally said softly as she crouched down beside you to say good bye. “Your case is closed. She can never take him from you.”

“Thank you.” Colson choked out as you started planting kisses on every inch of Gage’s face that you could reach.

“Mama!” He screeched as he tried to push your face away, annoyed with you at the moment and just wanting to watch his show.

“Hey guys, we gotta flight to catch.” Sawyer said softly behind you as she put your and her purse and the diaper bag on her shoulder. “And a crew to update.”

“OK, we’re coming.” You said with a sniffle as you finally found your feet and stood up. There was a little shuffle of putting away the goldfish container and the iPad away, which your son was not happy about.

“Hey, you’re getting fuckin’ spoiled with all this TV.” Colson huffed as he took Gage from you so he wouldn’t hurt the baby with his flailing kicks. “We gotta get you back outside… oh, you can quit with the whiny bullshit, bubba. You know Daddy ain’t playin.” He blew a raspberry on his son’s cheek, startling him mid-cry, before he tossed him up in the air a few inches. Gage squealed and forgot all about his show as you took your purse from Sawyer and headed out of the court room while wiping the tears off your face. Your mother managed to catch your eye in the main hall and she daringly took a couple steps toward you.

“Do not speak to me.” You said evenly with a shake of your head. “How fucking dare you.”

“Fuck you, Marie.” Colson said as he put Gage on his hip and stepped back to push you in front of him. “Fuck you.”

“That boy deserves to have God in his life.” She called out after you. “He doesn’t need to grow up worshipping Satan!”

“Excuse me?!” You screamed as you came to a dead stop and whipped around toward her. “I know you did not just fucking say that to me.”

“Let me raise him in the church.” She begged as Colson quickly passed off Gage and grabbed your arm. “He’s better off.”

“He’s better off with his mother.” He growled through his teeth as evenly as he could, despite the fact that he was literally shaking with rage. “He is better off as far away from you as physically possible.”

“How could you even think this would go over well for you?” You asked as Ally came running over from where she was talking to her next client about his case. “What, did you just expect that I would come running back home, that I would run away from Colson, to be with my son after you stole him from me? Bitch, you must be fucking damaged.”

“OK, let’s just walk away.” Ally said as she took a couple steps in front of you, which only made you lean to the side to keep glaring at your mother.

“Even if we had been the worst parents in the world, I would fight every fucking day for the rest of my life to get my kids away from you. And if it was just Kels that was the issue, I’m sure he would agree with me that we’d go our separate ways if it was what was best for our family. But after what you try to do to dad because of Anne and then to your own daughter?! Bitch, you are the last fucking person I would let raise my kids. I’d even let Junior’s dumb ass raise them before you did.”

“Come on, we need to go now.” Sawyer tried as she pulled back on your arm to try to turn you around.

“Expect a fucking restraining order, bitch.” You barked as you finally caved in and turned away. “Because you will never see my babies again. Fucking Satan worshipers. Are you fucking stupid?”

“I’m gunna fucking hit her.” Colson said as he shot your mother one last look before turning to follow you out of the court house.

“She ain’t even worth the charge you’d catch.” You sighed as you reached out to take Gage to calm yourself down. “Right? Say I just don’t have a grandma anymore. Simple as that. Wanna go bye bye?”

“Still wanna fucking hit her.” Colson grumbled again as he held your arm to help you down the narrow stairs in heels.

“Not if I kill her first.” You cooed in a sing song voice and turned to head toward your rental car to head to the UK for the next week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You only lasted a week on tour, before switching time zones with a toddler while pregnant became to much to handle. So with a ‘quit while you’re ahead’ attitude, you flew back to LA with Sawyer, who was working hard to meet a strict deadline anyways. But that move was apparently not one of your smartest.

“Look, it’s Daddy!” You cooed to your son over his tears as you laid with him in your bed, trying to convince him to go to bed while he fought bed time tooth and nail through his exhaustion. You held your phone up in front of his face with the FaceTime video playing as loud as it would go, as Colson wiped the sleep from his half opened eyes to try to help.

“Main man Gage.” He croaked before clearing his throat. “Hey, buddy. What the fuck, man? It’s bed time. Hey...”

“No!!” You son screamed as he tossed on the bed beside you.

“I’m just waiting for the sleep gummy to kick in at this point.” You sighed as you whacked your son’s feet away from your stomach. “Quit, you little shit.”

“We’re such good parents.” He huffed as he propped his phone up on the pillow beside him so he didn’t have to hold it. “I think you should just come back here. I’ll get him to fucking sleep. Just knock him upside the head.”

“Is that an option now?” You joked with a tired smile. “Should I try it? My Harley Quinn bat is somewhere around here.”

“Do not knock my son upside the head.” He laughed as you reached out and pulled your child up to your chest in a vain attempt to stop his tantrum. “Or should I say don’t do it unless I’m there to witness it.”

“‘Bout to smother his ass with your pillow.” You muttered as you kissed your now simply crying son’s head. “He’s been pulling this shit since we landed three hours ago.”

“Why are you just now calling then?” He asked as you propped your phone up with a pillow so that Gage could see his dad, too now that he had stopped thrashing.

“Didn’t wanna wake you until I knew he was about to pass out. Cause we both know Daddy needs much more beauty sleep than Mommy does. With those bags, and all those wrinkles startin’.”

“Fuck you.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “Your ass is the one that’s got wrinkles.”

“My ass is perfect, thank you.” You huffed as you adjusted your head on the pillow. “And I grow people so I’ll always be more beautiful.”

“OK, so you got me there.” He conceded. “Hey little man, you ready for sleepies?” You felt your son nod slowly against your chest, and you picked up your head to look at him while Colson sat up the slightest bit. He started singing ‘Good Night, Gage’, a song he wrote specifically for your son, that was guaranteed to knock him out completely, and sure enough, he didn’t make it to the chorus before your son was finally passed out in front of you.

“You’re a miracle worker, Colson. Swear to God.”

“I try.” He sighed as he laid back down to go back to sleep. “I miss you two.”

“We miss you, too.” You said with a nod. “And we love you.”

“Love you guys, too. I’ll call you in the morning, ‘K?”

“We’ll be here. Hopefully well rested.”

“I’m sure you will be. He’s had a hell of a time switching time zones like we’ve had to.”

“I know.” You sighed with a nod. “Which is why we came home.”

“I know. Alright, I love you. I gotta get some more sleep.”

“I know, Love you, too.” You blew him a kiss, which he returned to you before taking one last look at the loves of his life and hanging up the call for the night. You lasted just long enough to plug your phone in, turn off the light, and move your son to his spot in the middle of the bed before passing out for the most glorious ten hours of sleep you thought you ever had.

Part 9

#meant to be #mgk x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker x reader

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lorei-writes · 4 years

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Masamune x Polish!MC

Thanks a lot to @datenoriko for suggesting this and for @nad-zeta for writing hers (VERY INSPIRING, SERIOUSLY, GO CHECK THOSE OUT) headcanons :D Here’s my version. I wrote for Polish MC in particular, because I didn’t want to be disrespectful and there’s a lot of historical nuance that I could butcher otherwise.

[Note from future Lorei: This is honestly very stupid and I cannot believe I didn’t write it when I was 15, geez.]

Content Warnings: profanities, kidnapping, pain, injuries

Background information & notes:

Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth was partitioned by Habsburg Austria, Kingdom of Prussia and Russian Empire. As the result of annexations, the country disappeared from the world maps for 123 years. I will not go into detail about how the situation of Polish people was different in each of the parts, since that’s besides the point, but well - keep in mind that it did differ greatly. One can argue that the marks of it are still visible today, both in infrastructure, architecture and language.

I was born in the South-Eastern region of Poland and as such, that’s where I’d like my MC to be brought up.

MC is in no way representative of how each and every woman from Poland is. I tried to write her based on the women of my family, my friends, classmates, basically - the people I’ve seen and spent my time with.

I will not include anything religion-related, although it is a thing that’s present in lives of everybody (even atheists) here (to be more precise, Catholicism). Why? Because it is a very controversial topic, one of huge complexity.

... There will be profanities, because I love my Polish swearwords - and CURSE YOU ENGLISH. WHEN I YELL THE CURSE I WANT TO SOUND LIKE A FREAKING FERAL ANIMAL

Broken English in italics = broken Japanese.

There will be a dictionary at the end, so don’t worry.

Masamune

Upon meeting her, he did not understand anything she said - well, none of them did. However, she did rescue lord Nobunaga - a funnily dressed foreigner that seemingly didn’t speak Japanese couldn’t be that bad, could she?

Yet she still was thrown into the dungeon. In his mind, that was the perfect opportunity to investigate on his own.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Masamune sneaked into her cell. Soon, his blade was on her throat. “ Who are...?” he started, but was instantly cut off by her yelling: “ Czy was tu wszystkich kurwa do reszty pojebało?!” He stood there, staring at her. Seeing his confusion, she pointed at him and then tapped on her temple a couple of times, an unimpressed look on her face.

Was she suggesting that he was insane? Hah, that certainly was some lass. He laughed loudly and gestured for her to follow him.

Well, it certainly took some explaining, but in the end, she got a job as one of the maids. After all, you hardly need to understand language to sweep the floors and do the cleaning.

However, she... Didn’t exactly fit in. Not just because of her weird mother tongue - she was taller than most women and not exactly petite. Appearance wise, she resembled the Portuguese missionaries, but that wasn’t exactly this either.

Masamune came around to “bother” her at times. To his surprise, she started to picking up the basic words by herself. Sometimes, she’d point an object, say something (presumably the name of it in her language) and wait for him to do so as well.

One day, she did just that while cleaning the floor of a veranda. “ Chrząszcz.” It took a second to register. Was that really a word? “ Chrząszcz,” she repeated, staring at him. Right, he had to reply, otherwise she’d never stop. “ A beetle.”

Later that day, he tried to pronounce the word. He couldn’t do it. Actually, he started thinking that she was making it all up.

That, however, changed once he heard her sing. Unaware of his presence, she continued working, the song filling the air: “Gdy swe oczy otworzyłem Wielki żal ogarnął mnie Po policzkach łzy spłynęły Zrozumiałem wtedy, że Czarny chleb i czarna kawa Opętani samotnością Myślą swą szukają szczęścia Które zwie się wolnością”

To his delight, she started speaking broken Japanese within a couple of months of her stay at Azuchi. Finally, he could satiate his curiosity - or at least he planned to.

She went out to do the shopping in the afternoon, but didn’t return after the dusk. Thinking something bad must have happened to her, Nobunaga issued a search. Masamune volunteered to lead it.

She woke up with a start, her head throbbing. She looked around - where was she? It seemed to be a tiny hut of sorts. She got up, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was happening outside through the crack in the door. A man was guarding it. Did she hear a river? Whinny of horses? She had to escape - she search for cracks in the walls, until she found one. She recognized that armour. They were looking for her! She had to make some noise!

She yanked at the door, but it didn’t want to give out. She banged at it with her fists, yelling: “ Tutaj! Ratunku!”

The kidnapper didn’t understand the weird language, so he didn’t react at first. However, once the heard the approaching horses, he decided he had to silence her. He got inside the hut and gripped her by the wrists, telling her to shut up.

To his surprise, she struggled against him, breaking free of his hold on her.

He pinned her arms to the wall of the hut, threatening to hurt her if she even squeaked. “ A weźże ty mnie kurwa w nos pocałuj!” she yelled, before headbutting him.

Surprised, the man didn’t react instantly. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she kicked him hard.

It didn’t exactly work, though. Infuriated, the man wanted to punch her - yet, he didn’t notice the rescue that had just arrived. Masamune stopped his fist in the air.

Masamune didn’t see her in the couple of the following days, as they all worked to find out who was the person behind her kidnapping - and why was she even considered a target in the first place.

When he finally met her, he was stunned. Her entire forearms were covered in bruises in the shade of deep purple, almost black. He lifted her hands up, saying: “ I’ll check you up for wounds. Wounds. Check. You.” To his surprise, she shook her head and smiled brightly. “ Boli, znaczy że żyje. Hurt mean alive.”

It dawned on him then - he never really saw her smile before. They were complete strangers, but he wanted to know more.

With the language barier in place, it wasn’t exactly an easy task. Granted, she could understand simple sentences - yet, it wasn’t enough. Masamune was up to the challenge and so, he asked her to teach him her language.

Given the grammatical cases that influenced form of both nouns, adjectives and numerals, he soon started regretting his choice. The nouns had gender? Two future tenses? And what was up with all those ch-h, rz-ż, u-ó pairs that sounded exactly the same, but somehow weren’t interchangeable? Not to mention how some words seemed to consists exclusively of consonants. Rybołówstwo? -wstwo?

“ Okay. Your turn. Na wyścigach wyścigowych wyścigówek wyścigowych wyścigówka wyścigowa wyścignęła wyścigówkę wyścigową numer sześć.” Masamune blinked fast. “ It was the same word over and over again, right?” “ Nope. Maybe w Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie?”

It seemed she tried to torture him. Though, having her laugh, even if at him, made him feel warm.

One day, he was taking a stroll and heard her voice. This time, however, he understood the words she hummed to herself. “ Raz i dwa, raz i dwa, Dziewczynka Wojenka na imię ma. Trzy i cztery, trzy i cztery, Dziwne ona ma maniery. Pięć i sześć, pięć i sześć, Wcale lodów nie chce jeść. Siedem, osiem, siedem, osiem, Wciąż o kości tylko prosi. “

“Where do you come from, if you sign about war like that?” he asked. “ Can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m mad.” “ Try it either way.” “ You see, future. But I can’t say wars aren’t a thing anymore. Sadly.”

After that, they spoke for a while. Apparently, her grandparents were both in partisan army. She grew up hearing their stories - or much rather, what little was said about the horrors of the war. What surprised him, though, was her request.

“ Will you teach me how to use a sword?” “ A sword? Why?” “ I can’t be helpless. I have to adapt.” “ That’s the spirit,” he laughed.

She certainly was a curious creature, one with a will to survive. She was amusing... Although sometimes she did find a way to get on his nerves.

“ I am NOT cute.” “ You are. You have lisp and can’t say “r” like little child that can’t speak good yet.”

Dictionary & Notes:

“ Czy was tu wszystkich kurwa do reszty pojebało?!” - “Are you all fucked in the damn head here?”, although not exactly. The Polish version doesn’t entail anything that could indicate any connection to psychological disorder or madness. Both “kurwa” and “pojebało”(pojebać) are swear words that would be translated to “fuck”. Recently those words lost a bit of their shocking effect, but if you ask me - you still don’t want your mother to hear you saying those. Under any circumstances. Direct translation would be “Are you all fucking fucked up here?”

“Chrząszcz” - a beetle. However, can we appreciate the nasal “ą” sound and the fact that it’s the only vowel in the entire word? Apparently, it’s hard to pronounce for foreigners :D

“Gdy swe oczy otworzyłem /Wielki żal ogarnął mnie /Po policzkach łzy spłynęły /Zrozumiałem wtedy, że //Czarny chleb i czarna kawa /Opętani samotnością / Myślą swą szukają szczęścia /Które zwie się wolnością” - lyrics from song, you can listen to it here. “ When I opened my eyes/ a grief overwhelmed me /Tears run down my cheeks/ Then I understood that // Black bread and black coffee / Possessed by loneliness / Keep searching with their thoughts for happiness/ name of which is freedom” (excuse the translation, I wrote it myself). I don’t listen much to Polish music, but this was somewhere around ever since I remember - I think many people would recognize it? Plus, the theme of freedom seems to be rather common one.

“ Tutaj! Ratunku!” - “Here! Rescue me!”

“ A weźże ty mnie kurwa w nos pocałuj!” - “ Fuck, kiss my nose.”; There’s another version of with, “pocałuj mnie w dupę” (kiss my ass). This one is more polite? Less crude? Either way, it means “I’m fed up with your bullshit.” Note: weźże is an verb derived from “weź” (to take) by adding a particle “że” at the end. Said particle indicated irritation and frustration. Construction weź + do something (weź idź na spacer - go on a walk!) is basically an order/ a request said with some level of irritation.

“ Boli, znaczy że żyje. “ - “If it hurts, it’s alive.”/ “If you’re hurting, you’re alive.” ; that one isn’t exactly universal, but it was a huge one for me. I always heard it from my grandparents and aunts.

Rybołówstwo - ... Fishing. When pronounced, it’s “rybołóstwo” - we still have a cluster of consonants here, but it’s easier to deal with.

“ Na wyścigach wyścigowych wyścigówek wyścigowych wyścigówka wyścigowa wyścignęła wyścigówkę wyścigową numer sześć. “ - “During the racing event the racing car got ahead of the racing car number six.”; tongue-twister If you were wondering,the adjectives are in bold. The crossed out word is the predicate of the sentence (the verb).

w Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie - in Szczebrzeszyn a beetle can be heard from the reed; tongue-twister.

“ Raz i dwa, raz i dwa, /Dziewczynka Wojenka na imię ma. /Trzy i cztery, trzy i cztery, /Dziwne ona ma maniery. /Pięć i sześć, pięć i sześć, /Wcale lodów nie chce jeść. /Siedem, osiem, siedem, osiem, /Wciąż o kości tylko prosi. “ - song lyrics you can listen to here. Lao Che is a band that I think plenty of younger people interested in rock music will know. “One and two, one and two / The girls is named little war / Three and four, three and four / Strange are her manners / Five and six, five and six / She doesn’t want to eat ice-cream at all / Seven, eight, seven, eight/ She just keeps begging for bones.” ; All the songs from this particular album (Dzieciom - For Children; yes, it’s for adults that used to be children) are stylized to resemble a rhyme for children - at least in the lyrics and at first glance.

A note: Japanese and Polish “r” are extremely different. Japanese “r” resembles Polish “l” sound a lot - and many children can’t pronounce “r” at first, exchanging it for the “l” sound. In other words, Masamune speaking Polish would have a really hard time due to his slight lisp... And he’d sound like a little child that tries, but fails. :) IT WOULD BE SO CUTE!

When MC says her grandparents were in partisan army, she means they were part of AK - Armia Krajowa, during WWII. Whether that’s a good or a bad thing, I’ll let you decide for yourself. I don’t want to make this post any longer.

“ Seeing his confusion, she pointed at him and then tapped on her temple a couple of times, an unimpressed look on her face. “ - That’s basically how I’d show somebody another Polish saying “A puknij się w głowę” (Tap yourself on the head), which means “are you nuts”.

O, yeah. I don’t know if you can find the translation of the entire lyrics online, but if you were curious... You know, hit me up. I can translate them.

... I got too excited. Would you be mad if I wrote another one of those? I kinda want to...

Tag list: @datenoriko , @nad-zeta , @tsubaki3192 , @choi-jiyu If you want to be tagged under my future works, let me know (any way works)!^^ Also, if you have some preferences (for example: you’d rather not be tagged under some series, etc.), please, tell me.

#masamune date #ikesen masamune #ikemen sengoku masamune #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikemen series #my hc #im soo nervous all of the sudden #please dont hate those #and listen to those songs #they're good i swear

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thestrippershateyou · 6 years

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I’m forced to conclude that radfems who advocate gender separatism have never actually lived it for any amount of time longer than it takes to go to the bathroom or get dressed in a locker room.

I used to be a practicing Muslim. Mosques are almost all gender separated. I’ve never actually been to a mosque that wasn’t and even the most liberal one I went to that didn’t have actual solid barriers up for meals and had mixed gender festivals still had separation for almost everything else. I know there’s some in recent years with female Imams and no separation and I know there’s a Muslim LGBT summer retreat that has no separation but I’ve never gone.

And, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the separation there. Most of the women I know either do or are neutral about it. I’ve even seen women advocate for more separation or say they’re going to start wearing niqab unless it’s made so that no men can even glimpse them from afar. But here’s the thing...None of these women are living this 24/7. This is in western mosques. So the mosque is a refreshing break from the rest of life. Not something that they’re wanting in every aspect of life.

Let me fill you in on what happens in gender separation:

- Husbands and wives cannot pray side by side at mosques. Mothers cannot pray beside their sons and Fathers cannot pray beside their daughters. I’ve never seen children over the age of about 5 with their opposite sex parent in the prayer area and not older than maybe 10 for meals. At home, the women stand behind the men who lead prayer. But at mosques you’re behind a partition at a minimum and likely in entirely separate rooms. Sometimes you can only watch on a monitor and hear through a speaker.

- Spouses and even parents can’t contact each other unless they’ve got their phones on them and on sound or vibrate which isn’t always a thing at events and especially not during prayers. I’ve seen fathers standing at the tiny window of space in the barricade trying to wave and get their wife’s attention because their son needs something out of the car and she’s got the keys, needs to run home, needs something from mom, etc but his wife didn’t see him and no one will speak to him because he’s a man and he’d face backlash if he just walked over to find his wife. I’ve seen women doing the same thing trying to contact their husbands.

- If you’re bringing a guest to the mosque that is the opposite sex, you can’t go with them to their area. So if a son converts and decides to invite his mother or sister to learn more about Islam, then she’s is going to have to go stay fully separate from him in a room full of strangers. If she doesn’t speak Arabic, she’s going to be very lost.

- Families cannot eat meals side by side in mosques or the community centers commonly attached to them for events/holidays. Ramadan dinners (iftars) are a big damn deal and families cannot share them if they’re attending the community dinners at Mosques. They have to choose between family and community.

- Meals are stupid wasteful too because there has to be 2 of everything. 2 buffets, 2 dessert tables, 2 seating areas (sometimes 2 rooms even), etc. If you can’t provide two of everything, men and women have to be fully separate when going through the lines which takes up so much extra time. Regarding the wastefulness? You got a giant expensive decorated cake for Eid? Cool. Now you gotta pay for 2 of them because you can’t just cut a pretty cake with writing on it in half and carry the other half to a separate room. You gotta make all your dishes twice over with separate serving dishes instead of just making one big one and sharing it. You gotta order pizza (or whatever delivered food) in even numbers instead of just ordering odd numbers and sharing it. Towards the end of meals, I’ll see people going around and combining the dishes to bring more to the sex that has run out of something or to prepare take out boxes. And there’s almost always take out boxes because there’s almost always so much extra food that people take home whole other meals.

- Eid al-Fitr and Eid al-Adha are the two Islamic holidays....and families can’t pray and eat together for them at the mosque. Imagine if you couldn’t watch your own child open Christmas presents because you were their mother and your child was a 15 year old boy. There’s literally only TWO EIDS and if you celebrate them at the mosque, then you do it without the members of your family who aren’t the same sex.

- Wedding receptions are often gender separated. This means a husband and wife can’t even celebrate their own wedding together. The wedding itself will almost always be separated as well though you’ll be in the same room for that of course and obviously the couple is together when signing the Nikkah. But they’ve got to separate for the reception.

- Non school classes (I never went to an Islamic school and can’t speak for that but I know the smaller one attached to my Florida mosque had mixed classes due to being so small. The graduating class there in my year was like 7 people.) and sports are separated. This means if there’s not enough demand for EACH SEPARATE CLASS then one sex won’t have a class. Men almost always get more classes and sports because a lot of them don’t have enough interest only among women for women to have one. At one mosque I used to go to women got ONE SPORT NIGHT A WEEK because that was the only night they could drum up enough interest and get enough women to show up to shut down the community center to men to all men and boys. Men got the other six nights. ICLR, my prefered of the local mosques, actually had TWO WHOLE YOGA CLASSES FOR WOMEN but they couldn’t maintain enough interest in them. If you could mix men and women, you’d have enough attendance for almost any sport or class you want. But without mixing, the smaller attendance events get cut. Unlike with men, there’s no rule in Islam that says women actually have to go to the mosque ever if they don’t want to. So the result of this is that men wind up more involved in the community there.

And finally...

- Western dating is...not really a thing. It’s changed more with dating sites and tinder and the like. But a lot of marriages (especially first marriages) are still worked out through a glorified game of Telephone. Here’s how it goes... - A person glimpses someone of the opposite sex they decide is physically attractive from what they can see of them (modesty is a big thing in Islam for men and women). They have most likely never spoken to this person except maybe basic greetings in passing and might not even know their name because of the separation. So you’ve got nothing more than “I think they’re physically attractive” to decide if you want to build a lifelong relationship with this person. - They go to their opposite sex sibling (if they have one), a close friend’s opposite sex sibling (if they have one, and if their friend if on board with chaperoning the conversation), or their opposite sex parent (if they have one who is also Muslim, alive, around, and agreeing with their pick) and say “Hey, so I saw this person who I think is attractive. I’d like to get to know them and see if they’re interested in marriage” - That opposite sex person goes to the person deemed attractive and asks if they would be interested in getting to know the original person with the intent of marriage if everything works out. The answer is largely gonna depend on “do I feel like getting married at this point in time” and “are they physically attractive?” because, again, that’s all you get to know about them when you are separated - If yes, then families get together and work out chaperoned public dates. If you’re like me and you don’t have a family then you will likely either not get married in the mosque community or you will have to find a family to adopt you. Not literally, of course. Just in a parent friend kind of way. I had a husband and wife kind of adopt me like that because their little daughter decided I was her sister now. They told me if I ever wanted to get married to let them know and they’d find me a good spouse.

Now. All this assumes that radfems gender separatists aren’t just lesbians who are advocating for heterosexuality and bisexuality to be abolished from humanity. But we all know that won’t happen so let’s not entertain idiocy. And of course this is just mosque things and not all of life. And yet there’s already problems with it. Especially in the dating thing. But also...if I need spiritual guidance from the Imam? I gotta go find his wife. If I need to discuss something like renting the community center or finances with the mosque board? Gotta go hope they didn’t gender segregate that too or else I gotta go find the brother I don’t have.

Story: When I was 18, my (non muslim) grandparents were being abusive and my phone had gotten wet and broken. So a woman from the mosque wanted to use mosque charity funds to get me a phone to they could keep in contact with me and I could call them for help if I needed it. She had to call up her husband to drive back out to the mosque and talk to the Imam because the woman in the mosque’s board (Yes, only one. Mosque male population vastly outnumbers the female population. The one was specifically there to counter the separation so women didn’t have to talk to men to communicate with the board) was out of town. Because, of all people, the imam ESPECIALLY couldn't be seen violating the gender separation and especially not with so young and so unmarried a woman as me. So what should have been a 15 minute “can I fill out this form for these funds?” turned into over an hour because her husband had to find someone to wait at home for their kid who was on the way home from school.

In short. Gender separation can be fine when it’s a short time and not strictly enforced. Women only spaces are a great concept though measures should be taken for things like emergencies. But asking the world or even a whole individual society to be like that? Oh hell no. That’s not how societies were meant to be. And if you’re out here advocating it then I’m honestly forced to conclude you’re just talking out of your ass, are reacting based purely on emotion with no logic, and that you have no idea what you’re talking about.

#radical feminism #radfems #gender separation #islam #gender segregation

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minceofmind-blog · 5 years

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Piece of mind

‘This Tumblr is cool but empty’. Thanks to Tumblr for calling me cool even when I have not put up anything yet. My cousin suggested that Tumblr was a good site to blog and I had read a blog on Tumblr a few years back but I noticed it only today that it is 'Tumbler'. I realized it when I read ‘This Tumblr is cool but empty’. Somewhat made me realize how it is similar to the title of this piece ‘Piece of mind’. We are all little tumblers sometimes overflowing, sometimes empty, sometimes half full sometimes half empty and as the going gets confusing more kinds of tumblers keep happening. Little pieces of the whole, like water, poured into different tumblers. I sometimes don’t mind sharing a few of what I have in my Tumblr with the others. I too want to experience pieces of other's minds and share mine with others. Maybe what I want or lack is what the other gives freely and in exchange, we feel the happiness of sharing and receiving, now I sound like Joeys wedding speech :D So I want to put in a piece of my mind into a juicer and pour the juice to my tumbler. As I keep living and experiencing, I will keep sharing and giving with an equal joy of being received and having ;D Joey is the best guy on the show, simple and humble. No clutters no confusions, no fusses. The image that I get when I read my blog title is of pieces of brain and blood on the walls of Iris’s room in Taxi driver. You can understand the meaning of ‘I heard you paint houses’ when you have watched Scorsese or most of the gore gangster movies. I watched Irishman on Netflix, man Al Pacino delivering those dialogs at his age, what strength and power. Where do these guys get all the energy to keep working, I mean Harvey Keitel, Joe Pesci, De Niro and Scorsese himself all in their later 70s and still have the focus and power to do big movies. I was checking Polanski’s age, 86 and he is still directing. Woody Allen, Jodorowsky I might be missing out on many from around the world. But what are they eating or doing to gain so much focus on their work? It is like you are so passionate about the work that you keep on the move and don’t stop. Like our very own Amitabh Bachchan, 77 years old and still rolling. I wish everyone could find their respective fields or terrains to keep rolling and keep on rolling not stop. Some enjoy where ever they are rolling. Some sulk because they have to roll for others. What I have experienced is that keeping the mind busy with an activity helps you to ward off negative thoughts and self-degrading ideas. Maybe that’s why grandparents were all on their toes when we visited them because they just wanted to do things for us and other visitors. They wanted to do things for us, cook and serve and tell stories and put the kids to bed. I remember my grandpa would pluck bananas and jackfruits and various types of berries when he knows that I would be visiting for vacations. Even at the age of 80, he would have the energy to do things for his grandchildren.

Love drives us to do things. Love stimulates cells to move, they pick ourselves and get us into doing stuff because it gives us a sense of being. An existential crisis will cry if we keep loving and sharing and giving and receiving. Love runs this world. It is like the children are their parents and grandparent’s piece of artwork. They paint themselves through their next generations, by default through genetics but also by sharing experiences and passing down information. Then their children speak for their parents. But nowadays there is a lot of criticism when it comes to parents advising children and putting pressure to cast themselves into a model that somebody created. Like if Monalisa is a role model, all the parents want their kids to be a Monalisa but each of them is a different painting. So, what’s happening is that starry nights and the scream and the pearl earring girl, shadows in Hopper’s painting are forced to be a large fore headed woman with middle partition hair and a confusing facial expression, it becomes a fucking mess, like many lives these days. Maybe the children won’t take in your best qualities and would rather have something else in themselves that they want to bring out. It’s more like the best works the artist feels they have done by putting their heart and soul in it go unrecognised and the ones they did just for the sake become world-famous. Even with filmmakers, when they are asked which one was their favourite movie to work on, and it would mostly be something that has not worked well with the audience. Maybe they enjoyed the process and it was self-reflective and they got to learn a lot, but it must have not appealed to the masses. So I guess they just have to keep on the move. I watched a video on YouTube channel Green Renaissance about an old man who is a banana farmer and has one key advice ‘Keep on the move!’

So simple and crisp advice. May be old Joey would have the same thing to tell. I am 908 words in the previous sentence and want to have at least a thousand words on my first blog. As I took a break to read what I have written above it looks more like a kid with a pebble in hand throwing it on boxes and there is no end to those boxes. The kid keeps throwing and new boxes keep appearing and the game is still on. (This kid grew up to be Raman Raghav2.0 LOL!!) The kid has learnt to keep on the move and throws the pebbles randomly creating more neuronal pathways. I just googled if there was a word called neuronauts, it seems there is. I don’t know what they do but as the name portrays, it must be something to do with exploring the brain and creating new pathways. Checking on which bridges and high ways need repair and which cities need to be connected well. Cities that were once prosperous and well known for subjects who were loving and sharing but now the city is lost in time as its paths were rerouted to loops for routine efficiency and meeting expectations. There were times when the cells would try to visit the city of interest when not required in loops but then inertia also played to delay transportation and slowly the city of love and sharing faded. It needs to be cleaned of all its rust and get well connected to other cities to function as before. It takes time. When the loop highways are not busy, the roadway worker cells can be deployed to repair the broken parts of the bridges then make the city well connected and prosperous. Maybe we play neuronauts to ourselves.

So self-realised we are, we realise when we study about our bodies. And on the other end, we feel we are lost because the paths keep changing like the stairs in Hogwarts. Both are related and work together. I laze, so the cells feel the happy and sharing city don’t need connection anymore. I work and they are well connected. I seem to have lost track but I enjoyed the flow. I hope I keep up the habit of writing and sharing and keeping on the move.

Bye!

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rpausandwhatifs · 5 years

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Bastards of the Perfect|| Persephone and Isla

@ledabunnie-rp @danhowell-rp

“Mom?! What are talking about?” Isla said when her mother walked by with bags.

“Don’t ask me that! You know we have to go! When it’s time to go, it’s time to go. Your father gets it. I dunno how many times I have to tell you this-”

“I DON’T WANNA GO!”

“You WHAT?”

“Mommy, come here. Stop this. I don’t wanna leave again. I like living with my dad as a family. Why do have to leave?”

“You know why, Isla! Why are you being so difficult? I thought you like going on trips with mommy-”

“NO! I hate it just as much as I like it. You don’t plan them. You just pack our bags and we go. We’ve lived on the street. Daddy’s paid for hotel after hotel- and you still wanna live in these cheap motel-”

“Because he’ll find us-”

“WHO MOM?! Who the fuck are you running from? Dad told me that he’s dead. Like really dead. Like took me to his grave dead. Like we don’t have to run anymore dead.”

“Watch your mouth. Pack your bags...I need to know you’re safe..”

“I’m safe right here with Daddy and in this loft with you! I’m not going!”

“Isla Artemis Muir-Cyr...you know what?! Fuck it! You don’t wanna leave? Fine! I just better see you here when I get back! All I’ve ever done is keep you safe! All I’ve done is show you love and protect you and this is what you do?!”

“Leda, don’t try to guilt-trip me when you’re the one who refuses to go to therapy for your PTSD. I’m tired of this-”

“What the fuck? Isla!” Cyr called from the living room as he walked into the house, “What’s going on?”

“*gasp* Vincent...Finally, he’ll talk some sense into you-”

“TALK SOME SENSE INTO ME?! Fuck you!” she blurted, getting her backpack and stuffing some clothes and putting on some clothes and storming into the living room into her father.

“Hey, hey. Honey bunch, what’s wr- woahh woah! Where’s the fire? Hey! Stop! Talk to me!” Cyr said as he grabbed her but spun them around gripped her harder and gave her a small shake to get her into the moment.

“Mom wants to leave again and I just can’t do it again. Especially since it’s for no reason,” Isla began, still huffing, “I’m not a kid anymore. Why does she do this? Why doesn’t she get treatment? Why do you let her go? Don’t you love her? Why won’t you make her stay?! Dad, she fucks people to get a place to sleep! She gambles, she steals! Moms aren’t supposed to do those things! I’m not supposed to see those things!”

“Isla...come here. It’s not her fault. That guy whose grave I took you to, right? He did a lot of fucked-up things to her and it’s hard for her to come to terms with all of it. You don’t have to go, it’s okay. She did protect you, and she took care of you as best she could. She loves you and she loves the company. Look. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll see if I can talk to her out of this episode.” The lanky man embraced his daughter, rubbing her back and kissing her cheek and forehead as he walked back into what is their bedroom.

Isla sat and waited for a few minutes through the screams and yells back and forth. The usual thrashing and breaking of items in their room because Leda’s manic energy was so high. Then it died down a little and she heard little cries of her mother supposedly accepting that it’s over and that it’s ok. The walls in this loft are even walls. They’re like paper partitions with soundproofing and heavy curtains. She soon heard her mother, she heard the bed, and slapping noises and her father’s name...well let’s just say her parents are making up. Gross. She got up, wrote a note on the fridge and took something to drink and a snack before she grabbed her dad’s keys and left.

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

Persephone/Persi had been at home and once again she was grounded. Go figure. She packed a bag because she knew she needed more time and space away from her family. They’d understand even though they don’t understand her as a person. Eh, maybe one day. Right now, she’s going to make the most of her 17 years of life so far and her underlying mental illness. She took her stash out and the prepaid card her grandparents loaded for her and used Dan’s ZipCar account to drive from Vegas to LA.

She looked around to see where the other kids a little older than her were doing and she settled on the Santa Monica Pier. She walked the boardwalk and scored some weed and cigarettes from the other kids because she looked like them. She was having fun and drinking a little until she felt like she was no longer the kid with two gay parents and a twerp for a little gay brother with a hard-on for their oldest cousin.

She was flying on the beach at the bonfire with everyone having fun. Her new friends were being awfully cool and they were just sharing weed and stories and bottles of various alcohols that she could get her hands on. Tonight it felt like her last night being in high school, her last night being this young. She wondered what would come of this experience until they said that they were going to the Sunken City.

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

The red haired girl offered to let her catch a ride to the Sunken City with her for no charge. The car felt and smelled like a rental. They shared cigarettes on the drive up and some stories about their lives. The brown haired girl felt something different about the girl driving, it didn’t feel creepy and it didn’t feel like they should be friends, either. She had feelings for a girl she just met and was giving her a free Uber to this location on a school night and they were both floating

“Where do you go to school?” Persephone asked, “Just like location and if you like it. I hate school”

“Uhh..oh,uhh I got to someplace in the valley. Real casual shit. I hate everyone there and I hate school in general because I don’t like how they teach it’s so lazy and not personal to what I wanna do when I leave. Especially when I was in and out of school for as fucking long as I was-”

“You too?! Fuck I’ve transferred outta like 5 schools across 2 countries for fighting.”

“Woah..I just don’t be at school. I’m most of the time on the road, but it sounds way more badass to move schools for fighting..What happened?”

“No, no. You first, babe. I don’t like talking about something that I can’t explain myself...” Persi kept her eyes on the road.

Isla blushed at the endearment, and it that feeling wasn’t going away. Strange. “My mom is fucking trash. See? When she was a kid, she dated this guy and he was crazy and she got away from him and got kidnapped again so she got away from him again and then my dad said that she was there when one of her friends killed him for her when he found her again, but she’s used to being on the move and on the road, which was fun when I was a kid, then my dad forced us to settle down and I’ve been living in LA and tonight she was trying to leave again..I couldn’t listen to my parents fight and makeup again so I heard that some kids were going to hang out at the pier tonight and here I am.”

“Wow..that’s fucking deep. And gross. You’ve had to hear your parents fuck?” she asked, her American accent slipping, “I get that. My parents fight about what to do with me and my dad was quite the man’s man in their day so my pussy of a dad needs talking down because my mom’s crazy. I was basically planned by her but not by my dad. It’s mental. Like really, this apparently had to do with his mental and Daniel is so vetted about it but then again he went and fucked Bryonny and she had my baby brother..ugh..you’d think they’d learn but nooo! They fuckin fight and so I fuckin fight bitch boys at school and birds who try me.”

“How are you in school but you’re driving a rental? Don’t you have to like..be older to drive these?” Isla asked, deflecting from the drama. She really didn’t want to ruin a great night.

“I snuck out, got a hotel room with my money from my grands, and rented the car in Dan’s name. I still got money for like four days, so I’ll go back when that money runs out or I feel like going home, but I just can’t stand it,” Persi explained, “You sound like you’re not trying to see the sunrise in your bedroom either.”

“Damn, how long have you been English? I thought you were-”

“My mum is American. My dad’s from Northern England, Dan’s from like London, I think? And Bryonny’s from Brighton. I have dual citizenship. Hence, being kicked out of primary and secondary school as well as elementary and middle schools around here. I didn’t want to do Sixth Form. So I came to high school in the states. I live in Vegas,” Persi explained, “I hid my accent as best I could because..I didn’t want all the hard-ons and wet panties simply off of my accent. It’s so northern and rough and mixed up. I don’t see how anyone would like it, and it slips...”

“I like your accent..” Isla says, a little quieter, not intending to stare at the girl so long, but she smiled when she saw the girl smile a little.

They parked a little further up on the beach and followed the crowd to the water. Both Isla and Persephone stripped to their underwear and splashed in the moonlight. They settled as they lit the bonfire and broke out the entertainment of sparklers, weed, and little games of touch football. Persi had gone to use the bathroom and left Isla for a few minutes, claiming that she could hold her own. While the redhead was coming back from the port-a-potties, she spotted her new friend being shuffled off and accosted by some chad and she didn’t know what came over her.

“Yo!” Persi called as she saw the girl trying to fight the man off from touching her. When nothing happened she started running and felt herself slipping away even though she had been drinking. On the way she grabbed an empty bottle out of the trash and came crashing into the two, bashing the big bottle against his head and yanking him back, throwing him to the sand and stomped on his head. “Stay away from her, you fucking creep!” she yelled and then realized she had knocked him clean out. It was a fairly large guy, and Isla was stunned. She hadn’t really been in too many situations like this, which is something she can be thankful her mom did, but it was so unlike her to not react to something she felt was coming out of her control. When Persi came up, Isla looked at the girl and their panting matched. Persi couldn’t see the girl, but the girl who stood in front of her liked what she saw.

“I know this is creepy as fuck but you look kinda cute when you’re scared,” she said with an unwavering English accent, “Persi tell you about me?”

Isla was so confused a little scared, “Uhh I don’t even know her name...and thanks?”

“Ah, she’s bad at that sometimes. I’m- well we’re Persephone. I like being called Persephone. Ya know, like the greek person. The one that made a deal with Hades to save her boyfriend and he straight left her and she ended up fucking Hades anyway. That one,” Persephone said, putting her hands in her pockets and flipping her hair over one shoulder, “She usually goes by Persi, like Percy Jackson, like the books? It’s nutted, anyway. I think she likes Greek Mythology or gender-neutral naming, but eh..Either way it’s nice to meet you sweetie.”

Isla was shocked, but she wasn’t too concerned. She had a mother who would just phase out, and she remembers her talking about a guy she went to school with who had a condition like this. Her father backed this up, so it’s gotta be true. She liked how the shift in her accent and her hair placement presented a completely different girl, who she had a harder crush on. Her legs rubbed together and she bit her lip, trying not to smile to big, “Uhmm..I’m Isla..Not Lila, Isla...Like Isla Fisher, like that crazy red-he-oh...sorry.” The girl blushed so hard and played with the dirt with her shoes.

“None taken, cutie! Isla is such a cute name. And yes I know she was the girl Shaggy liked in Scooby Doo, and yeah the crazy chick from Wedding Crashers. Gingers don’t get a good wrap, but it is true we’re amazing in the sack,” Persephone explained, smiling and giggling watching the other girl trying not to meet her gaze. She knew she was fighting with herself, but Persephone was willing to play ball, “So..you wanna get outta here? I think they’re bouta go home or something. I’ve already smuggled enough hooch, grass, and drugs that we can hit up a hotel now.”

“Can we go to a Wal-Mart, first? I wanna pick up some provisions,” Isla explained, “Is there a pool or a spa at the hotel?”

“Yeah I think so. It’s a homestay suite, so I guess I’m gonna cook for the next few days,” Persephone said, pulling the car keys out of her pocket and walking towards the car.

Isla was now very concerned, “Wait, cook for us? That’s romantic, and efficient...how..how old are you?”

“We’re 17. We turn 18 in a few months. I didn’t think it woulda mattered cus you look as old as me. Also I think I have some clothes that might fit you, we look about the same size, as cute as your outfit is, those desert nights aren’t kind,” she said, unlocking the car and opening the door for the girl. She takes some time to get her duffle bag out of the back and brought it to the back seat, pulling out a large heavy hoodie she had from Reiner- which is funny he hadn’t asked for it back yet after their rather interesting night on their field trip- and tossed it to the girl. She pulled about $100 and handed it to Isla to put it to the side for gas.

“Wow..you’re so organized..Have..have you done this before?” she asked, putting on the hoodie and smelled it, catching the tones of cologne and sweat and her body spray and deodorant. It made her melt into the passenger seat, but she wondered who’s cologne she smelled in the fabric of this comfy garment.

“Eh, sorta..I’ve thought about putting this little getaway together for about 6 months. You’re a nice add-on. I’m gonna go back after about 4 or 5 days, because..I just felt so trapped and I needed space to calm down. My parents are usually too busy with work and their own infidelity to give me time and attention like I should get, especially with..ya know..this..” she said, getting in the car and starting it, pulling out, “Where am I dropping you off when this is over, babe?”

Isla’s chest had a resounding bang again and she looked at Persephone. Why does she like this? She doesn’t even know if she likes girls. The GPS on the screen and the soft music in the background gave her time to think. She looked at her phone and saw a few missed calls from her dad then a simple message telling her to be safe and be careful, and that they love her. She swiped away the notifications and opened her phone, playing some game to take her mind off of abandoning her parents. She didn’t feel like a bad kid, she just felt like her mother steals her spotlight. This sweatshirt around her made her think of all the casual relationships she had on the road and how if they would have lasted, maybe she wouldn’t be so unfamiliar to love. Maybe she wouldn’t be so hesitant with her feelings for the girl driving them to a getaway. Even when the guy was simply a jerk, it felt like it was her fault. Watching her parents were no help either. It caused her to panic that she possibly didn’t know how to love or what good love looked like. She was a broken girl and never fit in anywhere. She blanked out when that guy grabbed her, her body barely fought him when his hand snaked up her torso while he pressed together. Coming to and seeing the ginger girl beating him down was so relieving. She’d usually come back and she’d be sore, emotionless, and alone. There, she wasn’t alone. The same girl who gave her a ride had saved her from something she didn’t know about. Her own mother had the same problem and couldn’t explain. Why can’t she fight? Isla now felt like she owed Persi. However, she’s not making it seem that way. She hasn’t even asked for any money; if anything, she gave her cash. What kinda rich kid reject is she, anyway? “You said your parents are gay, right?’ she asked, looking at her, “That’s still a new thing.”

“Yeah, gay. Two different surrogate mothers, AAND English immigrants. Well, I’m actually American. My brother isn’t. I was born in the States and my brother’s mum had her across the pond in Camden. My dad and Dan went to school in Montana, then they wanted two places for us to live-”

“Wait you said Montana?!” Isla jumped up, leaning over the center console “As in the high school and college in the Montana mountains, Montana?”

“Yeah..for YouTubers,” Persi looked at the girl while they stopped at a red light, a little wide-eyed and very surprised that she met someone who knew what she was talking about, “Wait..”

“My parents are Vincent Cyr and Leda Muir...who in the hell are your parents?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Dan Howell and Phil Lester-”

“yOUR pARENTS...Wait wait wait...Hang on. You share biological DNA with Amazing Phil? The Amazing Phil?! Who the fuck is your mom?”

“Cat Valdez...”

“Catrific?! Wow..you’re the heiress of YouTube royalty!”

“And you’re the heiress of YouTube controversy...As am I...So that means-”

“That we both have a base level of a fucked up family. I’ve heard stories about Phan being super toxic and so crazy!”

“Same..I remember when..uh..Cameron? Right? He stormed the campus and someone fucking took him out. It was amazing. Everybody thinks it fucked her up more-”

“It did. It really did. She’s still in denial.”

“She still move around a lot? They used to tell me that they never knew when she was on campus because she would run-”

“Uhh well, when my dad got her pregnant with me she was still running around and then around the time when she had me my parents lived together in the valley in a loft- we still live there now, but my mom would still leave and for a few years and sometimes I’d stay with my grandparents and sometimes I went with her until my dad put his foot down and I said I didn’t wanna move around anymore. So I’ve lived in Carmel Valley for the past 7 years going to school and shit, then tonight happened. My mom just snapped and told me to pack because we’re leaving. I didn’t wanna leave and we fought and I left.”

“..So, fuck I’m sorry, I’m Persi, by the way I forgot to introduc-”

“Persephone filled me in already. You have the same personality disorder your dad did...My mom told me about it before. Phil didn’t use to be the best guy in the world and Dan is dumb enough to be with him this whole time,” Isla said, not moving from the center console as they started on the road again, “No offense but I didn’t know they had kids in the mix.”

“I was a wedding gift, my mom says..then again my mum turned out to be a real psycho when it came to my dad. So yeah, like Persephone graciously explained, my dad does have the same thing, but it went away once he got my mum preggos. She told me his name was Zack. And it will usually tell you how they want to be addressed, but she usually doesn’t talk when she’s around...she just screams and causes havoc which leaves me in trouble..” Persi explained, “My baby brother only came around because Dan was being petty and got Bryonny knocked up. However, it’s way sweeter of a time being around her than Dan or my mom.”

“Oh, then the holidays must suck for you, huh,” Isla commented, “My parents were young and dumb and my mom had this crazy delusion that she couldn’t have kids because of what Cameron did to her or something..When in all reality her reproductive system had healed enough for me to be born. My dad tells me all of the time how she would freak out and stop taking care of herself because she was ‘scared to death of having to stay in one place in case he found her.’ And I’m just like-”

It just sounds like a fucked up way of saying they couldn’t get rid of me.

Persi and Isla had arrived at the store and looked at each other when they had said the sentence, they had looked away into their respective windows, but quickly turned heads to see they felt the same way. They were mistakes. Tactfully set upon this earth to make things worse for their parents regardless of their feelings. They didn’t feel like they belonged, and at the end of the day they didn’t even have the loving comfort of their parents. Just themselves.

“Let’s hurry up and get what we need so we can get to this room,” Persi said quickly, backing off and getting out of the car.

Isla was still frozen. She felt so much at once from once sentence than she ever had with anyone else. Someone who understood. Someone she could stay close to and trust because they were all they had. It made the pang in her chest take her breath away and she sat staring into the center console until Persi jolted her out of it with a hand on her shoulder, “Earth to Isla...Come on!” She hurried along, holding the girl’s hand. They were around the same height, Persi maybe a little taller. She wasn’t sure that the ginger even noticed that they had linked until they walked into the automatic doors and saw that she meant to do it, “Uhh, why are you holding my hand?”

“Because this is like the second time you’ve just spaced out on me. I can’t afford to bring you back to your family if I lose you. Also, remember I am somebody’s older sister, so habit I guess?” she said quickly, then let go but walked close to the girl.

Isla looked ahead again and blushed, snaking her hand into Persi’s again, and feeling a squeeze.

“Did you wanna ride in the cart?” Persi asked with a playful smile, “It is weird Wal-Mart hours, so nobody’s gonna care.”

“Actually, I don’t think we need that much stuff, let’s go for the scooter!” she jumped up and ran to the station, unattached one and hit the horn for Persi to hop on.

“Uh-uh, you sit in my lap and steer!” she blurted, pushing her and fixing it as they traversed the store.

They fooled around and had their fun, grabbing their essentials and some supplies for the room so they can eat and live from the suite for at least the first two days. The staff at the store gave them weird looks and didn’t say much, but told them to make sure to put the scooter back when they were done and let them know if it ran out of battery. They didn’t spend too long in the store and bought (almost) everything and left.

They finally pulled into the suite and went to the front desk where Persi gave the receptionist Dan’s name and remembered the hotel had his card on file from previous travel. This was a bonus. She could stay out longer on her parents’ dime. Only thing is that he would see that she went here and stayed so he’d be tempted to track her down. She sneaks out enough they know she’s coming back.

Once inside, she was pretty impressed with how homey the suite was, complete with all the works and one sofa bed and a large California king sized bed in the other room. Fits because her Dads’ are both 6 feet tall and over. “Fun fact: I almost never travel with my parents unless it’s the mandatory trips to see my grands. When they’re on tour they don’t even fly us out to a certain cluster of cities to watch them work. Given, it is a lot to fly your family around and worry about our safety and shit, but whatever,” Persi said as she put everything down and started to unpack.

“Wow..I’ve never been in a hotel room this nice,” Isla said, doing laps around the suite and checking everything out. She could hear what the girl was saying and felt for her. Even though she wanted to stay and have a more stable life like hers, but she could get used to these trips. She caught herself thinking about seeing her again and planning how their about to spend their summers and maybe even do more getaways with just them. She would love the air and the space- well the individualized attention. She remembered and thought of the first times she would run away with her mom and how this would feel. It feels more like the times they would all go as a family, instead of just her mother. Mostly because of how much fun she was having with the both of them and no tension of the constant worry of someone going to find them or even her mom’s manic energy. Those are the moments where her parent’s love doesn’t bother her and it feels like the love that she was made from.

“You want the soup first or do you want the spaghetti? Or do you wanna just pop one of these pizzas in the oven?” Persi called to the girl, where she had heard her loading up the dressers but didn’t know what she was doing. She waited and still didn’t hear anything, deciding to put the cheese pizza in the oven and started sifting thru the drinks they put in the refrigerator, cracking open a fresh bottle of whiskey and grabbed the cola and a glass with some ice, making the drink and sitting over in the common area to set up her PlayStation so that she can watch TV.

Isla strolled out of the bedroom, wearing some clothes that Persi recognized from her own duffle bag. She looked at Persi setting up the television on the couch and sat with her, taking a sip of her drink, “Mmmh! What is this?”

“Jack and Coke. I’m sorry if I drink a bit, I’m used to being able to drink in the UK, and I know the age to drink is 21 over here.”

“Wait, seriously? You can drink at 17 there?”

“Yeah in some places they let you at 16. But 17-18 is the age where you develop a drinking problem around there. Especially if you look like you’re old enough they don’t even card you-”

“Oh my god,” she gasped, curling up and crossing her legs on the couch, “That’s absolutely insane to me.”

“Well tonight we’re gonna drink like English sailors, love,” Persi said as she took the glass from the girl and sipped it again. She looked at the girl who was staring at her lips while she drank and took down the glass, “What’s your type?”

Isla blushed faster than the alcohol allowed her, “My what?!” she sputtered and before she could try to blubber her way out of the question, her face had a finger in front of it.

“I’m out, hold that thought and follow me into the kitchen, I’ll make you one of these too,” Persi interrupted, getting up and taking the girl’s hand with the glass in the other and then continued, “I don’t mean to be that gal, but you’ve been giving me stares all night and your face loses colour every time I called you out of your name out of respect for not knowing it. So is it your first time liking a girl or is it just unprecedented?”

“Uhh well when you put it that way, unprecedented, I guess,” Isla shrugged, “I think I just had stronger feelings cus I’m like plastered and here I am still drinking,” she giggled.

“It’s called a nightcap, but I’ll put Bailey’s in yours instead Coke, but if you want a smoother drink, remember creme is key so you can use vanilla flavours and coffee flavours. It softens alchy burn but keeps the potency, even masking it,” Persi said, dropping cubes into another glass and starting on the other girl’s glass, “Also the caffeine in Bailey’s or Kahlua liqueurs will help you sleep and regulate dehydration when you get up, staying off a monstrous hangover.”

“Wow I never thought about how drinks work because I usually am just grabbing what I can. It sounds like you’ve like sat down and thought about it,” Isla said, relaxing a little and taking the drink when it was complete, sipping it lightly and loving the taste, but tried to focus on the topic at hand, “Why’d you ask me about my sexuality?”

“Conversation mostly, but honestly I’m bi and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable and I can give you the option of sleeping on the bed bed, and I just pass out on the sofa,” Persi said leaning against the counter, making light gestures, “I know I like took you along with me on this adventure, but from what I saw, I’d just want to make sure you know I’m not some creep or something.”

“Uhh oh wow..I don’t mind! T-The bed looks big enough for the both of us to sleep comfortably. I like how...old fashioned you are, and you’re not afraid to share your wealth. I think that’s really cool, but I think I had never heard of someone in our day and age doing stuff like this. And- I’m just realizing that you have freckles on your cheeks. That’s really cute oh my god I’m sorry I’m so distracted. And it’s not your fault I think I might have had too much-” Isla’s rambling was halted by Persephone’s lips

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After their first night of kisses and cuddles, games, and Isla actually getting too drunk and throwing up most of her pizza, they woke holding one another on the gigantic bed, the TV blaring in the background. Persi stretched pulling her hair back with a hair tie and felt something hug her torso tighter. She looked down and saw the brunette, smiled and started to slide out of her grip.

Isla stirred, feeling a little lost, but watched the girl walk into the bathroom. She was so confused. What happened last night? Where was she? Why was this feeling like she went along with her mother anyway? But it wasn’t? She sat up in the comfortable bed and saw how ornate the room was and could hear that the room didn’t just end in those walls. She was so hungover. The sun was being blocked by the curtains, which helped her sensitivity to light. The girl in the bathroom was still foreign to her, but familiar as she looked through their social media. Clearly, she and the girl had hit it off. That’s a relief. She had seen her phone was fully charged, meaning that she had blacked out well before the other girl, who had been smart enough to charge it for her. She usually doesn’t use her phone or post when on the run just because her mother taught her about vigilance and stopping to look down at her phone means you’re giving someone an opportunity to sneak up on you and take your shit. Also, the mother feared the man who was no longer after her, meaning she had to reduce her presence in the one area where he could track her down or use a lot of sourcing to track her location. Her father, bless his heart, allowed her to have a phone. On her birthday a few years ago, the man had hidden the device in her suitcase, and left her some money for a case and a note informing her not to let her mother know he had given it to her, to take a picture of the case she chose, and send it to him. It allowed her and him to remain connected to his not-so-little girl anymore.

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Cyr had seen her posts that night and smiled: she was having fun. Leda was still an entire mess that her little girl wasn’t home. She had barely remembered her (almost) husband had given their daughter a cellphone until she remembered seeing the girl use it once before, she took a picture of the motel they were staying at. The girl rose from the bed and walked into the large room and was greeted by Cyr playing a video game. She didn’t really want to bother him but she had to make sure. “Vincent,” her voice was unable to reverberate through the loft, but the man looked up and paused the game.

“Yes honey bear, what’s up? You hungry or something? Do I gotta turn down the TV?” he started, pulling his headphones all the way off. The woman cringed at how much he still guesses what she wants and is right about 85% of the time.

“N-no...Vincent, do you know where Isla is?” she asked, staring at him carefully because the man she loved had a way with lying, it was almost pathological and giving him this look usually worked.

“Maybe I do...maybe I don’t. All I know is that she’s a smart girl, she can handle herself. She’ll be back. She wouldn’t leave us forever like that,” he explained carefully folding his hands and then spreading them, palms up. He’s not lying, he’s gas lighting. She felt her body heat up, rage building from his dismissal. She was Isla’s parent, too, goddammit, she had a right to know! He knew exactly where she was and he wasn’t going to tell her that easily.

“I remember seeing her with a phone. Don’t fucking talk to me like a fucking mental patient, Vincent! You went behind my back and gave her a phone, didn’t you?! She never had any money for her own and I barely had one so I know it had to be you. Where is our daughter?!” Leda asking more seriously, her cheeks going pink. Cyr was cornered, he had to let her baby she never knew she could have was alright. The man motioned the woman over and pulled her daughter’s Instagram and showed her story and all posts since the account was created. “The-These...These are so beautiful,” she referenced the pictures and cracked a warm smile at her daughter’s story of her prancing through a Wal-Mart, the bonfire, and the girl. That girl looked so familiar. She recognised the bright orange hair and little freckles. “Who’s phony.persi?” she asked towards the man, who shrugged.

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Phil had gotten smart about his daughter running off over the years. He follows her on social media just in case they have cute father-daughter time or people don’t believe that he’s her father. He went to her story and saw that she had been reposted in someone else’s story by the name of earth-name-isla. He didn’t want to pry, but he had a feeling about the girl that was pictured with his daughter was familiar. He got up and went to his husband, who would know which one of their ex-classmates this girl looked like. “Hey babe..can you come here for a second?” he asked into his ear, running a hand down his arm.

“What?! What’s going on? You know where Persephone is?” the other asked quickly, whipping his head around and followed his husband back into the office.

“Yes, but something is weird,” Phil said, handing him the phone and looked at the story and the pictures with her daughter and the mystery girl, “The girl she’s with...does she look familiar to you?”

Dan took a few moments and went through the girl’s profile and happened to find a little rare picture of a hard copy of a picture of Cyr and Leda when their daughter was a child and they had taken her to Universal Studios. He squinted a little so that he could see her parents and upon recognizing the girl’s father, his cheeks flushed. “Oh my god...Phillip,” he gasped and quietly called for his husband, “Look at this! Look who her dad is!”

Phil looked on and raised his eyebrows at the man he hadn’t seen in years, next to a girl he equally hadn’t seen in a long time. The memories flooding back to their days at the Institute and few in the Youniversity and how their relationship- similar to their own- was akin to that of a firecracker. “Her mom is Leda Muir..And that’s-”

“Vincent Cyr- yes! I didn’t know they had a daughter! And that she’s...she’s..! Making out with Persephone?! I c-can’t! Babe, I’m literally done! Bring her home. Right now. Where is she?!” Dan fussed and shoved the phone back into Phil’s chest and he began to pace in the office.

“She’s in LA. It must be where she lives,” he explained calmly, setting the device down on his desk.

“Yo-you-you don’t think that-”

“I doubt it. There’s no way that she would have known who she was.”

“You hope,” Dan said, “How did she even get all the way to LA from here?”

“Persi is a resourceful and smart girl. I’m surprised she’s not alone. When I find her, she’s usually been by herself for a few days..She’ll be back. Especially if she took a trip,” Phil said before hearing their son come up to the door to the office and saw their son looking a little worse for wear.

“Oh my god! Elliot, baby, what happened?! Come here,” Dan shrieked, running to embrace his son and gave him excessive love, only to be pushed back and Dan could feel tears forming.

“Otosan, I’m fine..really..Jareth and I-”

“Jareth had something to do with this? Did he hit you?! Oh, I knew I should have sent Harlan to go-”

“Otosaan! Stop! I’m fine. Harlan didn’t need to be there. We fought them off ourselves. They were these huge sophomores and they almost broke his camera, and I jumped two of them and then he helped me out...We took out 4 of them dad! I’m just like Persi!” the boy beamed as his fathers looked over his body, “We ended up rolling down the hill and...I got dirty, but I hope you don’t mind, I told Jareth he could clean up here..so..”

The men were so distraught to hear the words that came from his mouth. They looked at one another, sharing a soft chuckle at their fierce family. Phil pushed the boy’s hair back so he could check for anymore injury and seen all of the hickies on his skin, which he quickly let go of his hair and put a hand over his mouth and grabbing Dan, “You should call Sean or Charlie, let them know where their kid is,” he says to him, “Ellie, go ahead...is he staying for dinner?” When the boy nods, Dan gets up and returns to the kitchen to finish cooking.

“Awh, Otosan is cooking?!” Elliot whined, “Why didn’t you cook, Papa?!”

“I was busy with locating your sister and meetings until the time for dinner, so I trusted Otosan with some fish and shrimp noodle dish. It cooks too fast so it’ll work with his short attention span. Now...I know he can be dramatic, but can I inquire about those blotches on your neck?” Elliot had gotten nervous, “Look, I don’t mind you growing up and dating, but I just need to know you’re safe, okay? I don’t need you growing up too fast...Now go on, tend to your guest..And also, for next time: Ice seals up those bursted capillaries faster and prevents blood from staying in the dermis.”

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“Ugh..I don’t think it’s working!” Isla whined, holding the paper towel full of ice to her neck while Persi hung out on the counter, who also was holding ice to her own body.

“You kinda have to freeze that part of your skin,” Persi said, patiently holding ice to her own neck, “Why are we doing this again? I don’t really think it’s all that necessary.”

“Because, I feel better and I’m ready to go home and I don’t wanna show up with hickies on my neck and an older girl that I found in the desert. My parents will flip. They’ll think I purposely left for two days to go and party and be gay I guess. I wanna make a good first impression,” Isla said.

“Isla, I think I’m the least of your worries. Your dad and my Dan used to fuck, so if they have to speak to each other after such a long time I think they’ll be more worried about that, or when they realize that my baby brother is definitely fucking that rugged bad boy loner he found in the woods.”

“Ew,” Isla said, dropping the cloth and playing with it, listening to the ice clack, “You have a point. I did this to show that I’m growing up, but I guess if I’m gonna go for it, I should commit.”

“Also, you’re an only child, it’s not like you can avoid it. I’m not an only child, so I can always point out what goes on with Ellie,” she mentioned, throwing her ice in the sink.

“You call your brother Ellie?”

“Short for Elliot, duh,” she looks at her sitting on the counter when Isla touches her arm.

“You’re so mean...” Isla cooed, trying to hide her smile.

“That doesn’t sound like you hate it,” she looked bit her lip and nudged closer, pulling her in for a kiss then pulled away quick, “But for real? Like real shit? Only I can call him that. He’s Elliot to you at all times. Got me?”

“Yeah, I gotchu, babe,” she nods.

“Good!”

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

*phone rings*

“Babe answer it!” Phil exclaims from downstairs.

“Do I have to do it?”

“Yes! It might be our daughter and my hands are wet, just hurry up before it goes to voicemail!”

“Fine!” Dan goes to the phone in the studio and picks up the phone, “Hello?”

“Daniel James Howell...As I live and fucking breathe,” Vincent laughed, sounding mature and relaxed with age, “Uhh, so your daughter brought my daughter to me and I just...wanted to thank you for raising her so well..She is so sweet and generous.”

“Are you...wait..Cyr, you talking about my daughter? Persephone?”

“That’s her whole name? She told me it was Persi. That’s a beautiful name-”

“Enough! Where are you? Where is she?!” Dan snapped, “Also my last name is Howell-Lester nowadays. I haven’t been just Howell in a while..”

“She’s with Leda and I at my place in the valley. Carmel Valley. I can have her send you the address. The girls wanted to hang out, so we all thought we can take the time and catch up,” Vincent said a soft wind blowing into his phone, “Uhh yeah I figured, but you’re still a howler nonetheless-”

“Cyr I’m fucking married!” he snapped.

“I’m kidding, kidding. You have a whole family and I just want to show you how our little girls are having so much fun together. They’re inseparable. So yes I called to invite you up here, but to also thank you because I haven’t seen my little angel this happy in years. She made a real friend in her-”

“Hmph don’t speak so soon, she’s a force. She’s only like that now from therapy and her father being here. I couldn’t raise her on my own if I tried,” Dan replied, leaning against the desk.

“Daniel, is it her?” Phil asked in the doorway, causing Dan’s body to heat up a little as though he had been engaging in something wrong, but they were just talking about being dads.

“Yeah, it’s the girl’s father. I’ll put it on speaker,” he moved the phone from his face and pressed the button, “Say hi, Cyr.”

“Cyr? As in, Vincent Cyr? I haven’t heard that name in ages, how you been, sir?” Phil asks.

“I’ve been well, I’ve been well. I was just thanking Dan here about your daughter bringing my Isla back in one piece and they’re really good friends. Like it’s like she brought back a different girl. She’s so happy and they get along so well!” Vincent said, blowing smoke from his cigarette, “Leda and I are inviting you down to our place to come and get her, but why don’t we all go out to lunch or something? My treat.”

“Oh that sounds amazing! I’d like that just tell Persi to send me the address and we’ll be out tute-suite!” Phil beamed, looking at Dan with a playful smirk, which caused him to smile more comfortably.

“Alright, we’ll see you then!” Vincent said before hanging up.

“Only you Daniel. Only our daughter would seek out a girl who just so happens to be the spawn of your old flame,” Phil teased.

“Shut the fuck up, Phillip! That was really fucked up for me~” Dan whined, “Like I’m actually, literally sweating all over the fucking place!”

“Ooh sexy,” Phil said, then heard the notification on his phone and looked at it, “Oh wow we gotta buy these tickets...Elliot!” He exclaimed walking out of the room, “Sweetie you wanna go to LA for a day? We gotta go get your sister!”

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

Elliot was startled by his father’s raised voice and quirked an eyebrow, “Why is she in LA?”

Jareth looks over at him and shakes his head, pointing at his bed and Elliot gives him a look, “My sister would tear up a town if I went missing. I wanna see that she’s safe...” The other boy sighed and shrugged, gathering his bag and putting on his shirt slowly, wincing quietly, causing Elliot rushed to him and helped him put his shirt on but gave him very pleading eyes, trying to bring the other boy closer to him and he didn’t respond. He winced again when the boy was touched in an area where it hurt and he swiftly, yet gently, firmly grasped his boy and looked in his eyes, cupping his jaw. He laid a soft, long and deep kiss on his lips biting his lip a little as he pulled away as he struggled to get out the room through the window.

“Elliot!” the voice came from behind him and caused him to whip around and he gasped, “Did you hear me?”

“Y-Yeah..LA..we leaving soon?” he asked, his body tingling at the boy’s kiss.

“Uh huh..Pack a bag for like a night just in case. You get to see who your parents grew up with.”

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

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years

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Love in a Ruined World

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 7: A Meeting and a Reunion

David approached Gold and Belle's little corner in the Town Hall, where they dwelled, with a purposeful stride.

"Gold...we need to talk," David stated.

"It sounds serious...should I leave?" Belle asked.

"No...in fact I think he's going to need your support for what I'm about to tell him," David responded, as he led them behind a partition they had put up to allow for private conversations. David sighed.

"We had a few outsiders cross the town line again today. Fortunately, they weren't violent and we have let them join our ranks...for now," he explained.

"Do you really think that's wise?" Gold hissed.

"Let me explain," David insisted.

"The last outsiders that came through here nearly killed us and they're the reason there's no magic!" Rumple growled.

"Rumple...please," Belle pleaded.

"I know...if you recall, Snow and I dispatched those outsiders and we're the reason that potion ever existed in the first place from what you've told us," David snapped back, as the older man relaxed slightly.

"The reason we let them in was because there was someone with them that vouched for them and insisted that they weren't violent," the Prince explained.

"And who is this person that you suddenly trust? Because while I know your wife is quite trusting...you're not. You grew up like me. Poor as dirt with a father that betrayed you at a very early age. I know you don't trust so easily," Gold said, as their eyes met. It was true that they connected on that level and David had never expected Rumpelstiltskin had humbled beginnings like him.

"You're right...and there are things about this man that I'm still very angry about, but there is one thing about him that overrules that," David replied.

"And what is that?" Rumple questioned.

"Because he's your son," David stated, shocking both Belle and Rumple.

"Bae...Bae is here?" he questioned.

"That's what he says and we know it's true, because there's more. There's something else that none of us expected," David continued.

"What is it?" Belle asked.

"In this land, he goes by the name of Neal Cassidy," David responded.

"And that's supposed to mean something to us?" Rumple questioned.

"No...but it means something to Emma," David countered.

"Neal Cassidy is Henry's biological father and he is meeting his own son as we speak," he continued. Rumple was stunned. For all his foresight and planning for the future he had done from his visions, he had never seen this twist. His son, his precious Bae had somehow encountered the Savior in her youth. The son of the Dark One had conceived a child with the daughter of the truest love he had ever encountered; a virtual symbol of pure light. There was no way that this was coincidence; fate did not allow for such. Light and Dark joined in such a way...it was unprecedented and he was probably the only one that could fully appreciate the gravity of such.

"Rumple…" Belle cooed, snapping him back to reality.

"I need to see him…" he said. David nodded.

"I'll warn you...from what I gather, he's still angry with you. He told me outright that if the world hadn't ended that he would have tried to make sure you never found him," he warned.

"But since circumstances are a bit different, he recognizes that family is important and came to find you," David added.

"Thank you David," Belle said for him, as he was still too lost in his own musings to properly respond.

"You're welcome...guess this is one more thing we have in common. Emma would have every right to be angry with me and Snow. But she's gotten over it and so will your son," he offered.

"Except that your choice to give her up was forced. Mine was not...it's different," Rumple refuted.

"Perhaps...but like I said, things are different now. It's times like these that family becomes incredibly important and we all have to support each other. Family is all we have and I think your son realizes that," David stated.

"We?" Rumple asked. Charming smirked.

"Like it or not, Gold...but you now share a grandson with me and Snow," he replied, as he led them to the moment of truth and for some surprising reason, Rumple didn't find sharing something with the likes of Snow and Charming all that offensive as he thought he might.

~*~

"Is that why you're telling me now? Is he here?" Henry asked. She nodded and Neal stepped toward him.

"Yeah...I'm here," Neal said, as Henry looked up at him.

"You're my Dad?" Henry asked.

"Yeah...guess I am. If it helps...I didn't know," Neal replied. Henry shrugged.

"I get it...but how did you find out about me now and where I was?" he asked inquisitively.

"Well...I actually came here for a very different reason. I'm like everyone else here...I'm from there," he revealed. Henry perked up at that and his eyes widened.

"You are?" he asked, with avid interest.

"Yep...and so I came here looking for my father, even though I swore I never wanted to see him again," he said, just as David approached with Rumple and Belle. His eyes met his father's and Rumple looked as though he may fall apart right there. His usual composure was failing him and normally, he wouldn't let that show openly. But he couldn't help it.

"Bae…" he said tearfully.

"Papa…" Neal said stiffly. Henry looked at him in surprise.

"You're Baelfire?" he asked in amazement.

"Yeah...but I like going by Neal now," he answered.

"Did you know, Mom?" Henry asked.

"Not a clue, kid. Back then...I wouldn't have believed him even if he did tell me," Emma replied.

"It's not her fault Henry. August tracked me down and told me who she was. He convinced me to leave her and I was stupid enough to listen to him," Neal said, as he glanced at Emma.

"Where is that puppet anyway? I owe him a punch in his big lying nose," Neal mentioned. Emma shrugged.

"Get in line...but no one has seen him. I'm not sure if he survived," she replied quietly.

"Bae…" Rumple said, as he hobbled forth.

"I'm still pissed at you," Neal warned.

"Bae...the moment you were gone, I regretted ever letting you go. I spent...my entire life since then trying to find you," Rumple replied.

"Well you shouldn't have!" Neal snapped.

"I made a huge mistake…" Rumple pleaded.

"Yeah...you did and everyone else paid for it!" Neal roared.

"Did you even for a second care about the families you were ripping apart to come after me?" he questioned.

"All I could think about was finding you…" Rumple admitted. Neal snorted.

"Yeah and in the process, a lot of people got hurt. Emma and her parents didn't deserve to be ripped apart just so you could find me," he scolded.

"We didn't...but it got us Henry," Emma reminded and he sighed.

"Yeah...I guess it did," Neal said, as he knelt down in front of him.

"I hear you're the reason the curse was broken at all," he said fondly. Henry shrugged.

"Mom Emma broke the curse," he said.

"Yeah, but you found me and brought me to town, kid. None of it could have happened without you," Emma reminded.

"Oh yeah," Henry agreed, making them all chuckle. Neal stood up and noticed Regina standing there, looking half fondly at Henry and half threatened by them. He supposed that wasn't surprising. The son she had adopted and that used to be totally reliant on her was now surrounded by both his paternal and maternal biological family.

"I'm not sure whether to thank you for taking care of our son or to berate you for helping my father cause all this in the first place," Neal said boldly.

"Try thanking me. You may be his biological parents, but I am his mother. I have a say on who is in his life," Regina warned.

"Mom…" Henry chided.

"Yeah...August told me the story. The people you hate are the reason he exists at all," Neal retorted. David nodded.

"He's got a point...you're welcome," he quipped, earning him a sharp glare from the former Queen.

"I'm aware…" she admitted.

"He loves them...and he loves you. Emma and I are pretty screwed up, because of my father's and your actions. I think we should try to avoid that with him, yeah?" Neal asked. Emma nodded.

"Agreed," Regina replied.

"Henry's grandparents no longer have anything to fear from me," she added and Henry hugged her for that.

"Thanks Mom...that's all I want. For us all to be a family," Henry said.

"I want that too Henry," she admitted.

"You think that's sincere?" Neal questioned. Emma shrugged.

"Deep down...I think so. It helps that there's no magic, you know?" she asked.

"Oh yeah...trust me, it's a blessing in disguise. Magic just royally fu…" he started to say and she gave him a look.

"You have to watch your swears around the kid," she warned. He chuckled.

"Right...magic screws things up, let's just leave at that," he said. She nodded.

"Neither of them, Regina or your Dad, are particularly comfortable without it. They've had to rely on my parents to survive more than they like. I have to, honestly. I had no idea how to hunt, forage, farm...none of it. But they're really good at it. We haven't lost anyone yet, because of them, save for the ones that died when that plane crashed into town," she explained.

"Yeah...trust me, Storybrooke is way better off than I've seen," he said.

"Then the cities are as bad as we've heard?" Emma asked.

"Probably worse. New York is the home base for this new faction that's taken over all the major cities. Whoever is leading it has pretty much recruited most of the former military and anyone that wants to fight or remain on top of the food chain, so to speak," Neal replied, catching David's attention.

"Do you think they'll come here?" he asked. Neal shrugged.

"It's possible...they've pretty much scavenged most of the country for guns and ammunition so they have a pretty good supply. We'll be in trouble if they do come here," he admitted.

"With winter coming, I'd say they'll try to move on any settlements then. It's the most vulnerable time," he surmised.

"We might have a solution for that and it might make the difference this winter. Then next spring, we can move north and settle. There's still a lot of untouched farmland up state," he mentioned.

"Plus we have the benefit of the harbor and being able to fish," Snow added. He nodded.

"I assume you and your friends at least have some useful skills?" David questioned. Neal chuckled.

"I'm afraid most of them worked in cubicles before now, but they can learn. Me...just tell me what you need help with. I've had to forage and hunt for food before. Henry and I could go see what we can catch for dinner," he suggested, as he looked at Emma and Regina for approval.

"Can I Moms?" he asked eagerly.

"Sure...its fine with me," Emma replied, with a shrug.

"Me too," Regina agreed a bit uncertainly.

"Bae...can we please talk later?" Rumple requested. Neal sighed.

"I've said what I need to say. Not sure what else there is," he refuted.

"But I have much to atone for...please," Gold pleaded.

"Yeah...you do. But I have a feeling that if there was magic here that you'd be too busy scheming and screwing people over with your deals to atone for anything. You haven't changed...you just don't have any choice but to behave, because you're now depending on others for survival. Things would be very different if there was magic here and so far, I haven't seen any reason to believe otherwise," Neal said coldly.

"Please Bae...I have changed. I can show you," Rumple pleaded. He scoffed.

"Like I said, you haven't really changed. Your circumstances are making you be on your best behavior, because Emma's parents are the reason you're alive and have food in your stomach. And to be honest...I hope magic never comes back," he added, as he and Henry left together. Emma winced and turned to her parents.

"How are you holding up, sweetie?" Snow asked.

"Okay I guess...I expected that to be a lot worse. I thought Henry was going to hate me," she admitted. Snow squeezed her hand.

"He knows you love him and that you didn't really want to give him up. And I think he understands why you told him his father was dead. None of this has been easy for anyone," Snow reasoned.

"Only because Dad explained it to him and got through. Thank you," she told her father. David smiled.

"I love that kid, as much as I love you," he assured, as he hugged her and cradled her head.

"We never wanted to give you up, Emma," he reminded. She sniffed.

"I know...and I'm not angry with you guys anymore. I love you both," she confessed. Snow sniffed.

"Oh Emma…" Snow gushed, as they hugged her between them. David chuckled and gently wiped a few of the tears away on both their faces with his thumb, even though he had his own staining his cheeks.

"Come on...let's go get a fire started for whatever they bring back," David suggested.

"Okay...but they might come back empty, because I'm not sure Henry can stay quiet enough to catch any fish," Emma joked, as they started walking toward the woods to build a fire, when she turned back briefly.

"Are you guys coming?" she asked.

"I'm not sure we're welcome," Gold replied. She sighed.

"Look, I know you both would probably be ruling this town with magic and have us at your mercy and everything if you could...but that's not the case. Add to that, like it or not, we're all family now. And Henry wants us to be a family, so we all owe it to him to be that for him," Emma said sternly. Belle smiled and urged him along.

"I couldn't agree more," she agreed, as they followed.

"That means you too, Queenie," Emma called and her parents chuckled.

"Excuse me?" Regina asked in an accusatory tone.

"You heard me. Come on and keep up...you need to stop wearing those dumb heels you have on too," Emma called back.

"I'm a Queen...I'm a bit more refined than you and your woods-dwelling parents," she quipped.

"Aren't you technically Queen too, Mom?" Emma retorted.

"Um...well, I suppose, but there was never an official coronation, so technically, I'm still a Princess," Snow responded.

"You were born into the crown...a coronation is just a formality," Rumple interjected.

"I'm still Queen...I married into it," Regina protested.

"Which technically makes you Queen Mother," Rumple argued.

"And that would make my Dad the King, right?" Emma questioned.

"Absolutely not...he's not royal by birth. He married into it and is only Prince Consort," Regina protested.

"Except that Snow has the power as Queen to bestow the title of King on him if she so chooses to do so," Rumple interjected.

"And I choose to...because he is King of my heart," Snow agreed, as she kissed him tenderly.

"Ugh...that's probably the most sickening thing you've ever said," Regina grumbled.

"And with them...that's saying something, believe me," Emma said, as her parents continued to kiss, hearing none of their complaints.

"Hello? Are you two going to come up for air and start this stupid fire? I for one would like to eat," Regina replied. Snow and David's lips finally parted. They started gathering firewood and mused at their circumstances. None of them could have ever imagined things would have turned out this way and lead them to all being a family. But it had worked out that way and no one really seemed too upset about that...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #Charming-Mills Clan #plus Rumbelle #Rumbelle #Swanfire #Henry Mills #romance #adventure #family #AU #post apocalyptic storybrooke #love in a ruined world

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salmankhanholics · 5 years

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★ ‘Bharat is a beautiful story’!

May 31, 2019

ALI ABBAS ZAFAR ON HIS BOND WITH SALMAN KHAN, LATEST MOVIE AND PRIYANKA CHOPRA’S EXIT FROM THE PROJECT

by MOHNISH SINGH

Ali Abbas Zafar has cemented his position as one of the most successful young filmmakers in Hindi cinema with a series of commercially profitable movies like Gunday (2014), Sultan (2016) and Tiger Zinda Hai (2017).

His next film, Bharat, stars his favourites Salman Khan and Katrina Kaif in the lead roles. Bharat, which is an official remake of South Korean drama, Ode to My Father (2014), is the big Eid release and is expected to clock-up big numbers.

Eastern Eye caught up with Ali to talk about Bharat, the extremely strong women of his films and how his relationship has evolved with the megastar Salman Khan after doing three back-to-back movies with him.

The talented filmmaker also opened up about Priyanka Chopra’s last-minute exit from the film.

You perfectly blend content and commercial cinema. How do you manage to do that so effortlessly? I feel that there is nothing bigger than a story in a film. The story is the biggest hero. When you have a good, strong story coupled with Salman’s star power, it becomes amplified with the audience. So, my first and foremost attempt is to work on a story that resonates with Hindustan (India), its soil and people. When I feel I am satisfied with the basic idea, only then I start writing the film.

Bharat seems to be another example of that? In this case, Salman himself asked me to watch Ode to My Father, which is a hit Korean film. Before this film came to me, I was determined to never remake a film, and wanted to write my own stories and then direct them. But when I sawOde To My Father, I could understand why Salman asked me to watch it. It’s a simple, sweet and beautiful story of a displaced family. It’s about a family which comes to the other side of the country after its partition. Amid all of this, a son makes a promise to his father. Now, what does this man do to keep that promise is the film.

How did you feel after finishing the movie? I went to Salman and said, ‘the story is beautiful, but to Indianise it, we will have to rewrite it completely.’ So, now when you watch Bharat, you will find it’s completely different from Ode To My Father.

Tell us, how did you come about naming Salman’s character Bharat? When I realised the story could be worked upon, the most important thing was the name of the main character. A character whose journey starts in 1947 and ends in 2010 has lived as much as this country India. So, it was very important to find a character name, which can be a parallel between the two things. And then I came up the word Bharat. Once that was done, I was clear about the film that I was making.

Was it easy to get the movie title? No, that was the most difficult thing. We were unable to come up with an apt title for the film. Initially, I was thinking that what could a film be called which is about your country? The biggest hero of our country is (Lord) Ram. There are Arjun and Karna also. They are heroes who developed from our mythology. But then, I thought he should be named after the country, because the film is about the evolution of the country as well as him as a person. Then one day, I suddenly thought that there could not be a better title than Bharat.

What happened next? I shared the title with Salman and Atul (Agnihotri), who is the producer of the film, and they were very excited. They asked me to find out if somebody else had registered the same title. Luckily, the title was with (filmmaker) Sajid Nadiadwala. They are like one big family and we were fortunate that he gave us the title.

How difficult was it to create the different looks of Salman? Thorough research went into the looks. We saw albums of people’s families. I dug out my family’s album, my art director dug out his family’s album and we saw how our parents and grandparents evolved over a period of time. We took many references from there. I incorporated some of the things in my writing as well. Not just the looks, the language of the film also changes throughout. Having said that, we also used prosthetics and had VFX support in creating Salman’s various looks. It has been a long and tough process.

While designing Salman’s look for the movie, did you have any apprehensions about some fans not accepting certain looks? I personally think that fans related to Salman in the context of the story. Everybody knew Salman would age in the film. The only thing is that when he ages and that first look is seen, does that look exactly like how Salman would look when he grows old? That was my aim - that I don’t let down his fans and give them any chance to say, ‘Oh! The old man is not looking like a gracefully aged Salman.’ Also, we were clear that when you see Salman as a 70-year-old man, you should feel that yes, he looks like a man who has 70 years of experience and that he has gone through a lot in his life.

Did Salman give any inputs in the film? Yeah, which he does in every film, I think. See, I just feel that he knows his fans really well. When you present him a text, he would say that how can the same scene be looked into a little differently and his fans are going to like him do that. Sometimes you have to take it, sometimes you have to leave it because that’s the call that you take as a director.

Has Bharat been the most challenging film of your career? Yes, it is. But it’s not only because of the star cast. I think it’s just a very ambitious project because, some way or the other, you are going to see 70 years of a man’s life. You also see a parallel journey of a country and what the film is talking about at heart is a very relevant question.

Tell us more… The film questions the fact that as a nation we are one big family and what we need to co-exist is a lot of love and harmony, something which I think has been the pillar of this country over a period of time. The whole idea is that when you travel outside the country and people ask, ‘who are you?’ you don’t tell them your religion. The first thing you say is that ‘I am an Indian.’ Then you tell them which faith you follow. What the film, in a nutshell, is talking about is a lot of togetherness and love. And where does all that love start from? It starts within the family you belong to. So, that’s the byline of the film.

How do you decide the budget of a film, which has such a huge canvas? On a film like this, the budget is very important because you cannot make a film like Bharat until and unless you have a budget. Luckily, I was fortunate enough that I had producers who backed my vision. Salman really backed it and so did Atul. They gave me full liberty to make the film that I wanted to make.

This is your third film with Salman in a row. How has the comfort level grown between both of you? (Laughs). There is no comfort level. With Salman, the point is that he does not change. He is permanent. Even if I do 10 films with him, I don’t think he is going to change. The only thing is that ours is more than a director-actor relationship. It is like an older brother-younger brother relationship because he is very senior to me. Our relationship hinges on honesty. If he does something and I don’t like it, then I won’t disguise it and say to him, ‘Bhai, this is not happening. I don’t like it.’ Similarly, if he does not like something I have written, he will let me know, to my face. He does not disguise anything either. Salman is not like, ‘oh, he is my director, so I’ll have to be little diplomatic with my words.’ That’s a good thing because what happens then is that if you are honest about your first reaction, then we both can pull our socks up and say, ‘let’s do something together, which is new and relevant.’ That’s a great relationship.

Did Priyanka Chopra’s last minute exit impact the film? I would say no. See, she had a valid reason for leaving the film. If we had accommodated her dates because she was getting married, we would not have completed the film for an Eid release. The entire shooting schedule would have got pushed. So, we all sat together and decided. She made me sign a pact that I would do another film with her, (smiles). I said, ‘yes, we will work together.’ That’s how she let this film go and Katrina came into it.

Bharat will be in cinemas on June 5

#salman khan #bharat #Ali Abbas Zafar #Ali iv #iv #eastern eye

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hit-by-a-truck · 4 years

Text

snooping

The elevator opens directly into the apartment. An upside down pink parasol shades the overhead light in the front hall. Past the collection of shoes and jackets near the elevator the hallway opens up to the bright main room. The kitchen is small but fancy in the perfect Brooklyn way where everything has its place, nestled tightly next to something else. Each spice has a handwritten label taped to the top and they’re organized by flavor pallet. The microwave is above the fridge, if I was any shorter I couldn’t reach it. There are fancy teas in the cabinet above the counter, but I can’t find anything to make coffee in.

It feels strange to make myself comfortable in someone else’s home. We’re renting the apartment from a covid-runner family waiting out the pandemic in their second home upstate. Sasha is a postpartum doula, Eric is a writer, and they have two young-ish kids. On the other side of the island five chairs congregate around a circular wooden table with a floral tablecloth, which we are thankful for because we’re afraid of leaving any marks. The cabinets are filled with fancy glassware, and labels that say don’t use this shelf. We don’t, even though we are tempted. A big green couch fills most of the living room, and bright green plants poke out of every corner. With one wall covered by a massive mirror, and the other made of floor to ceiling windows, the room feels bright and warm. It holds you. There’s a set of five large Japanese prints on the wall in the living room that feel vaguely culturally appropriative, and which they probably brought back from a family trip one year.

I spend my first few hours in our new, temporary home, opening everything I can find. I’m a snooper, I can’t help it. I will eat your altoids, use your fancy hand lotion and read through the books on your shelves if you leave me alone in your room for an hour, though I know I shouldn’t. The hallway is plastered with photos of two white people in their twenties and thirties, their most memorable moments. In one black and white photo, Eric is shirtless with a tightly strapped leather vest and belt, and a matching leather hat with his arms around a man that looks sort of like him. Sasha smiles quietly, attracting your gaze without trying to. Their two daughters, around 10 and 13, don’t look very happy in any of the photos, but the youngest one looks exactly like Sasha—dark hair, bright eyes. In some photos, there’s a fluffy yellow dog, but there’s no trace of him in the apartment so I don’t think he belongs to them, at least not anymore. Above the sink in the bathroom off the hall, there are eight little figurines of men pooping.

Sasha and Eric’s bedroom at the end of the hall used to have a door, the hinges are still there, but it's been replaced by two wooden slatted panes that meet in the middle with a latch. You can mostly see through them, and hear everything. I wonder what this means about their sex life. The bed fills the whole room, and a large mirror sits on a shelf, slanted down towards the bed. The comforter matches the curtains, a gentle turquoise. The jewelry in the red jewelry box is trashier than I expected it to be. Maybe she’s taken the best pieces with her. They keep snacks in a drawer under the bed, and we try to have enough self-restraint not to eat them. In an old wooden box, is a wedding veil, a journal, newspaper clippings, and a blue comb. They are old, disintegrating, the only little pieces left of a grandparents’ life.

The room to the left is the largest in the house, and has its own bathroom with a jacuzzi tub. It seems they sacrificed the master bedroom to their daughters. The walls are light yellow, and the shelves are covered in neatly arranged childrens’ books and art supplies. A large set of bunk beds sits in the middle of the room, life-sized teddy bears on both bunks. A giant giraffe is tucked in the closet.

The last room, behind sliding glass doors off the living room, is partitioned into two. In the back, a bed is tucked into the corner, with a small built in closet and a nightstand, a guest room. The front, by the sunny windows, is their study. Two small desks, back to back, and floor to ceiling cubbyhole shelves. On one shelf at eye level sits a pristine collection of extraordinarily graphic spanish hentai in which the superhero protagonist charges her weapons by forcing them into her gaping asshole. I’m sort of shocked to find them so out in the open. Do their daughters never snoop?

Whenever I was home alone as a kid, I’d dig through my parents bedside table drawers. My dad’s, messy and difficult to open was filled with clove gum wrappers, old batteries, giant pairs of glasses left over from the early 90s when his hair was long and he had a beard, and a clay print of my five-year-old hand is crumbling in the back, covering the rest of the contents in a light red dust. My mom’s side is bare, but smells like the Badger Night Night Balm she rubs on the back of her neck every night before bed. Her reading glasses sit in front and sometimes a roll of tape, a pen or some push pins. Visiting my mother last summer, I opened my dad’s bedside table drawer, missing the smell of clove that reminds me of him. Though my dad’s been gone for years, it never occurred to me that I might not find what I was looking for. Instead of the messy assortment of my father’s things, it was filled with my mom’s new boyfriend’s astonishingly vast collection of sex toys. Sometimes, I forget snooping is dangerous. I closed the drawer and tried to forget what I had seen.

I dig through every shelf in Sasha and Eric’s study. There’s a large collection of Eric’s journals and Sasha’s doula notebooks, detailing the birth experiences of her clients. In the back of one of them, upside down on the last two pages, scrawled in red pen, Sasha writes about her family. I can only read half of it because someone spilled water on the top of the page, blurring the red pen. She’s angry at someone named Jade, who I think is her half-sister. I was raped when I was 15 and on one cared and now they all just talk about it and tell whoever they want even though it happened to ME. The whole page is covered in underlines and all-caps scribbles. I can feel her rage. I close the notebook, knowing I should feel guilty.

I started journaling because my dad did. He’d sit by the window drinking coffee from the huge Eeyore mug we got at Disneyland, and write his Morning Pages, an obligatory activity according to his therapist. I sat with him, drawing, doodling on pages of my own, and trying to read over his shoulder when he wasn’t looking. Now there are 23 journals on the shelves in my room, spanning the years from 2005 to 2021, and I wonder who has read them. My high school English teacher told me once that when she was diagnosed with cancer and she thought she might die, the first thing she did was destroy all her journals. She said they were a burden she didn’t want her daughter to have to hold. I think about this often.

I wonder if Sasha’s older daughter has ever read this journal, or any of the others on the shelf in this room. They aren’t very well hidden. I wonder how she holds her mother’s rage.

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momtemplative · 4 years

Text

The Long Game

A conversation about schools reopening: Part one (uno, un) of presumably many.

There was one year I celebrated the First Day Of School with such vigor and rebelliousness that the moment I got home from the double-drop-off, I stripped down to my undies and ate pesto from the jar, on the couch, like a crazy woman.

Last year, the first day of school was delayed for four days because of construction and I had a full-on meltdown. Get these kids out of the house!!

Now, here we sit, atop an entirely different perspective. That Holiest of Days means nothing.

Finish lines and dates-to-look-forward-to-with-certainty during this pandemic are as arbitrary as the outcome of a toddler game of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey. I’ve been applying a lowered-gaze to these long, long days, a here-and-now approach to get us through to the finish line of school starting. Not thinking about the Long Game has been a survival tactic to avoid an onslaught of overwhelm and to allow more room for joy and sanity. (There are plenty of tough days that happen organically, without the pressure of trying to figure it all out.)

Back in March, I thought, (many of us thought), ok this is crazy, but they’ll surely get back to school in the fall. And what an epic celebration THAT First Day will be!

Especially after this four+ month stint of no school, no sitters, no public places open (safely), no playdates or kid swaps, no summer camps or extracurriculars, and no travel! I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t holding up the First Day as a beacon of hope, grabbing at it like fruit for a starving soul that hangs way beyond my reach.

Up until last Wednesday, we could still speculate about school as some far-off agenda. Of course there was no way school could start up again as per usual, but I pushed that slippery little thought out of my mind every time it landed.

Now, heavy with reluctance, I am beginning to mourn the loss of the reality I was hoping for—to have Opal back in school and Ruth in preschool three full-days a week! (That was new, for the two years prior, she attended preschool for three half-days, which just barely covered my part-time work load.) The generous portions of un-scheduled time (that far surpass the needs of my job, which I will not be doing for the foreseeable future anyhow, since giving massage to elders with dementia and Alzheimers is such a dangerous gig right now) were joyfully staggering to think about.

Once the facts came to light, hard and fast on the computer screen, it no longer worked to play dumb about what the fall might look like. They announced this week that BVSD (Boulder Valley School District) would be opening schools for two days a week, a “hybrid model,” starting one week late, end of August. Half the class will attend Tuesday and Wednesday, half will attend Thursday and Friday. On the not-in-person days, kids will do online schooling. (Kids can also opt out of this for fully online, at-home schooling.)

The kids will be required to wear masks and keep their distance. There will be partitions and well-spaced desks and lots of outside time. The precautions will be thorough and lengthy, but necessary.

Joseph G. Allens, assistant professor of exposure assessment science at Harvard says, “On prevention, we are seeing that in many hospitals, the number of infections of front-line doctors and nurses has dropped way down. Why? Strict controls are in place focusing on just three things: mask-wearing, hand-washing and air-cleaning.”

This is positive news for the kids who are old enough to be mindful and take precautions. Luckily, Opal is old enough to be developmentally capable of following all the rules, not only because that is who she is, but because she understands this is what needs to happen for the public’s health. Five years ago, she may have had good intentions, but would’ve been developmentally unable of doing what needed to be done. Five years from now, she may be nursing a rebellious phase—who knows. So, we rejoice at the fact that she is eddying in the safest spot—age and development-wise—that she possibly could. (Not to mention her motivator-of-wise-choices is far more ubiquitous and scary than simply aiming to be a ‘good girl.’)

Ruth, who is four and still taste things from the ground, is another story altogether. And to intensify that reality is that she’d be in a classroom of 11 other small-children-examples. When I imagine a birds-eye-view of her classroom, I see piles of children, not individual bodies, all heaped onto a particular play area like puppies on a teat. The personified opposite of social distancing.

And because we have grandparents to think about, we have chosen to keep Ruth from the fray of preschool for the time being. (I acknowledge we are fortunate to have this choice.) This is devastating and confusing for her, she is longing for her friends and teachers, the world she cultivated for the prior two years, half her life. She still doesn’t understand why school stopped so abruptly, why she never got to say goodbye to her class, why she can’t see any of them now, except for on a screen.

(Ruth sometimes refers to The Virus as almost a villain-character. She’ll be lying in bed and suddenly, disgustedly, shout, “THAT VIRUS IS SO RUDE!”)

For the last few days, I’ve been saturating myself in news articles about how schools plan to re-open next month and the safety of it all—for grandparents, for teachers, for us. I vacillate between, this will be weird but fine and yikes and wait, is this the best approach?

There is a staggering amount to consider, and yet a minuscule amount of certain information out there. Almost every article I read about young kids and COVID—can they spread it??—is filed under the opinion section of the paper. Info feels sparse and mostly speculative. I don’t trust it. At least not on her grandparents’ lives. Schools in Europe reopened months ago, where is the research from that?

Brian P. Gill, senior fellow at Mathematica, (a nonpartisan public-policy research and analysis firm), had some optimistic things to say. He said, “When reopening schools, he’d most recommend a staggered start and to reduce the number of students in schools and classrooms. “We believe this can dramatically slow the spread of COVID-19—even if children are not especially good at wearing masks or maintaining physical distance.”

I really don’t know who or what to believe at this point. I find myself glomming on to the positive bits, sharing a hopeful thought or article with friends, accompanied by a prayer-hands emoji. Then I will read something that troubles me and I turn leaden and sink to the bottom of my mental well. I usually don’t share those articles. It cycles back and forth like this.

But returning to the bricks-and-mortar plans for Opal’s upcoming school year:

I try to imagine what this will all look like. The rooms will be half-full of socially distanced little bodies, all looking like mini-surgeons in their masks and ranging in age and size and from approximately 5 to 10 years old. Opal is on the older end, and I imagine her classroom to look like theater—where everyone has an excessive personal bubble and the plastic partition creates a glare from every angle and warps the images on either side. Connections will have to be made in code, sideways, or way too loud to overcome the cloth curtains that cover mouths. I imagine the resurgence of note-passing, like when I was a kid and we’d fold them into little origami packages and pass them along to the desired recipient, hopefully out of the teacher’s gaze. But in this case, they’d need to be tossed rather than passed—the closest desk will be six feet away.

Will they be able to see the preposterousness in all of it? Will they be able to share a good laugh about it or will it all seem like dreadful torture? I’m sure perspectives will vacillate from one end of the spectrum to the other, the way they do now.

I do solemnly wish that everyone enter the first day of school expecting nothing less than chaos and confusion, and because of that, they will offer each other more slack and kindness. This sucks equally for everyone, the whole dang village. There’s got to be some solace in that?

(And can I get a moment of silent mercy for all these teachers, even the grumpiest ones? I cannot fathom the ninja-brainwork required to hold all these pieces together. The effort is heroic.)

We would probably consider kiboshing the whole operation if it were to last any longer than two days. That’s plenty manageable. And Opal wants it so bad. The sense of purpose, of community, of life-beyond-the-walls-of-our-home. She told me she’s dying to see the eyes of all her friends, even above a mask, as long as it’s not on a screen! Preach.

I am well aware that this equation doesn’t help parents who are trying to get back to work, but, again, I appreciate what Brian P. Gill has to say about it:

“As parents ourselves, we would much prefer that our child’s school be open for a predictable two days a week than a highly unpredictable cycle of opening and closing. But more important than our own preferences are these facts: Unpredictably difficult experiences create more stress and more downstream health problems than predictably difficult experiences, even if the experience itself is equivalent in all other respects. And for children, more predictability yields better emotional health, a key predictor of life outcomes.”

SO here we are, bouncing around the map of this pandemic with, what often feels like, no real direction. At the entrance of yet another entirely foreign trail to blaze—with kids, with grandparents, woven into the threads of our decision making more than ever before in our previous lives.

We want to give our kids the moon, but for right now, maybe the best thing we can give them is predictability.

Joseph Allen said it well, “I wish it was different. We can continue to push for things to get better — and maybe our government will course-correct. Until then, we must forge a path forward with the reality we have, not the one we want.”

#momtemplative #LongGame #COVIDwords #mindfulparenting

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ruffsficstuffplace · 7 years

Text

And The AWRD Goes To... (Part 22)

Instead of upwards to the heavens like the rest of the R&D building, Freya and her intern’s laboratories went downwards, into the foundations, and indeed, the mountains that Mistral was built on. The view from the clear sides of the elevators was like peering into a vast, complex, and gigantic ant farm, human and Faunus all busy working on various projects, all arranged in a neat grid.

They were all sectioned off or opened up by sliding wall panels, made of modern materials and proofed against pretty much any sort of accident or disaster short of a highly coordinated, intentional attempt at destroying them, or a catastrophe that would likely take the rest of the academy with it. But, true to Mistral’s love for aesthetics and tradition, they still looked like paper fusuma, even if it tended to clash with the increasingly modern and sleek equipment they were importing from all over Remnant or constructing and developing on-site.

Weiss had been down here exactly twice before, both visits years apart, but she could never truly get rid off the feeling of awe, of dread, of nervousness washing over her as she stepped out of the elevator and to the laboratory at the very bottom of the lift.

She supposed Freya’s personal robot secretary/security turret never really helped matters.

“Good morning. Weiss. Sucy. Winter.” Al said in his mechanical and monotone voice, his dozens of optic sensors glimmering slightly. “I hope you had an—enjoyable—trip down here?”

“What, not going to point your guns at me again?” Sucy asked calmly as they made their way out of the elevator.

“Again. Sucy. That was just an—honest—mistake. I sincerely apologize.” Al said, a few of his many robotic arms unfolding, the claws pressing together and his spherical body nudging forward as if he was bowing.

“Should I ask…?” Winter said as they stopped before the blast doors at the end of the hallway.

“Two days ago, one of my potion vials happened to leak before I got here,” Sucy replied as they were scanned. “Al detected the fumes, then threatened to turn me into Mantle cheese with the help of miniguns.”

“Again. I sincerely apologize.” Al said, repeating the gesture from earlier. “It is just that Dr. Freya prefers her security—extremely—thorough and cautious.”

“More like ‘paranoid and trigger-happy,’” Sucy muttered as the doors opened with a groan, a fog of cold, misty air poured out the crack as they slid apart.

“Well forgive me for wanting to ensure the safety of the oftentimes sensitive and valuable research and equipment I have down here!” Freya snapped as she stepped out, waving the clouds out of her face. “Also, you do realize that there’s a live video and audio feed of everything that happens in this hallway, yes?”

“Yes, yes I do.” Sucy replied flatly.

There was a brief moment of silence as Freya and Sucy looked at each other, before the former turned around and beckoned for them to follow. “Come in, time’s a-wasting!”

Like her office above ground, Freya’s laboratory was stuffed floor to ceiling with all manner of projects, equipment, supplies, screens, indicators, and wall partitions keeping it organized, if claustrophobic. The various experiments she had going on varied, but they all had one thing in common:

Dust.

In power cores, flowing through tubes as powder, crystals being fused together in new configurations or broken apart, catalysts for experiments and reactions on materials, or reagents themselves, it was like the whole facility was actually a miniature refinement and processing plant than a single scientist’s personal sanctum, the bright overhead lights and the natural radiance of dust casting almost everything in vivid colours.

Weiss, Sucy, and Winter passed through a green haze, steadily spinning orange bars, and a humming crystal in a tube that seemed to be sucking the light out of the immediate surroundings, before they finally came to one of the most important sections of her lab:

The Operating Room.

It really was just a reclining chair with an Atlesian “Auto-Doc” surgery apparatus above it, but Freya, Nick, or any of the other subjects strapped to it cared much about the name. Weiss gulped as Freya manned the console and the chair started to contract and readjust for a much less massive occupant, Winter squeezed her shoulder and gave her a reassuring look, Sucy grinned as she saw the Auto-Doc booting up, a few of its many arms unfolding and getting its hydraulics flowing again.

“On the chair, please, Weiss,” Freya said. “This won’t take more than a minute, I swear,” she continued, smiling.

Weiss tried to smile back, found she couldn’t, and just sighed as she put her feet onto the metal step, and hauled herself into the seat. She laid one arm on the metal armrest, straps appeared out of hidden crevices, robotic arms pulling them over to the buckles on the other side.

Click. Whirr…

The straps tightened, one of them acting as a tourniquet, the rest holding her in place. Weiss whimpered as she watched a robot arm with a sprayer attachment, and a second with a syringe had a freshly unsealed needle affixed to it. A third arm descended from the main body and reached out to Weiss’ free hand, its claw holding a stress toy in the shape of a smiling snowman.

Squeaky-squeaky!

The snowman’s eyes bugged out of its head with each squeeze. Weiss took it from the claw, closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth.

Fsshht!

She felt hospital-grade disinfectant on her skin, ice-cold, heard the arm with the syringe move into place and wait for a few moments, before it began to move in.

Squeaaaaaakkkk-kkkyyyy…!

The snowman’s eyes slowly shrank back into its head as Weiss released her grip, a cotton swab was placed over the tiny exit wound.

“And now, we play the waiting game...” Freya said as the syringe had its needle removed, the blood sample was handed off into a machine.

Sucy and Freya stood before a nearby screen, their scrolls in their hands as results came in; the two sisters sat on a nearby bench, Weiss resting her head on Winter’s shoulder and getting her hair stroked as they waited.

“Well, that’s really interesting...” Sucy muttered.

“What is?” Weiss asked as she sat up.

“Seems like our semblances work even better than I thought they would,” Sucy replied, still looking at the screens and her own notes. “Maybe a little too well.”

“Gee, ya think?!” Weiss snapped.

Winter gently held Weiss back. “Can you please explain that?” she asked.

“The Infinite Energy is still in Weiss’ bloodstream,” Freya replied. “It seems that even the minute infusion of raw dust in it was enough to be activated by her semblance, thus vastly amplifying its effects and longevity.

“In short, it seems we seriously overdosed.”

“Would you happen to have an antidote for the Infinite Energy drink?” Winter replied. “Surely, someone like you would have something as a fail-safe for that?”

“I don’t,” Sucy replied flatly. “Surprising as it may seem, even my brilliance has its limits, and I haven’t somehow unlocked all of the mysteries of caffeine and how it affects the human brain. Your genes don’t help, either:

“It seems like whatever it is the doctors fixed about your DNA thanks to all your grandparent’s mutated chromosomes, it left behind or possibly even severely amplified the stimulant-sensitivity on your Faunus side...”

“So what am I supposed to do now?” Weiss asked.

“Just ride it out, I guess,” Sucy replied. She looked back, and grinned. “Well… unless you want me to start experimenting with your liver, and how quickly it breaks down certain chemicals...”

Freya’s ears and tails twitched as she glared at Sucy. “Manbavaran, as the top authority of this facility, and the one giving consent in Weiss’ stead for the moment: there is no way in hell you are performing any such procedure on her, and especially not in this facility,” she said flatly.

Winter protectively clutched Weiss to her chest as the two of the nodded in agreement, their expressions saying much the same.

“Oh, and like you haven’t done worse things to your own husband?”

“That’s because I’m of the unshakable belief that absolutely nothing in Remnant can kill Nick,” Freya replied coolly. “He has suffered FAR worse than my rooting around in his internal organs and skeletal system, making modifications and repairs with the help of an autodoc or my own two hands, in the lab or out in the field.

“However, like myself, Weiss is FAR less durable.”

Sucy was about to counter, before one of Al’s many extensions in the walls and the ceilings activated, a glowing blue spherical optic sensor extending out on a metal arm. “Dr. Freya. You have a visitor at the—ground-level entrance—requesting access--” he began.

“And who is it?!” Freya snapped. “They better be important, and have an appointment on my record that I’ve somehow forgotten about!”

“According to their—student ID—scan: it is ‘Rose. Ruby.’ Cross-referencing the database reveals that she is—Weiss’--teammate. That is why I did not reject her outright. Should I let her in? Or simply proceed as normal?”

Freya turned to Weiss. “Your call, vnuchka,” she said.

“One moment,” Weiss said, before she turned to Al’s extension. “Did she say why she was here?”

“I did inquire. Her reply was that she wanted to—check up on you and see if you were okay. Should I start compiling a report of your—medical examination—and send it to her?” Al paused. “I am assuming from your—sudden and dramatic—change in facial expression and body language that this would be the—incorrect—course of action.”

“You haven’t told her yet, have you?” Sucy asked.

“Not yet!” Weiss cried. “But I will! In time! When I’m ready!”

“Weiss. Your decision...?” Al asked.

Weiss looked back at Sucy and Freya. “Is there anything in particular I might need to know?”

“Nothing I didn’t already warn you about yesterday,” Sucy replied as she returned to her scroll. “Might want to make doubly sure about having someone to carry you back, just in case, though.”

“Then I’ll meet her at the lobby,” Weiss said as she got up, Winter following her.

“I will inform—Ms. Rose—that you will be coming back up shortly.”

“Thanks, Al,” Weiss said as they made their way out of the laboratory.

“Take it easy for the rest of today, Weiss!” Freya called out.

“I will, grandma!” Weiss replied, before she and Winter stepped out of the blast doors.

The two giant metal slabs slid back into place, its locking mechanisms groaning and whirring as it reactivated.

“Is there anything you want me to do?” Winter asked as they headed back to the elevator.

“Can you… please pretend that it’s not nearly as bad as it is?” Weiss asked. “I don’t want Ruby to freak out. And especially not find out about… you know.”

“I’ll put my theater electives to good use,” Winter said, beaming with pride.

“Thanks, Winter,” Weiss said, a small smile on her face. “I owe you one.”

“Don’t even think about it, little sister,” Winter said, ruffling Weiss’ hair before she called for an elevator.

“Weiss!” Ruby cried, brightening up as she saw her and Winter step out of the elevator and back into the lobby. She frowned. “Oh… wow… you look terrible.”

“Sleep deprivation tends to do that to a person, yeah,” Weiss said jokingly.

“You want to head back to our dorm, and try and see if you can catch some more Z’s?” Ruby asked. “Maybe stop by the dining hall and grab some moon bloom tea to go? Because you look the aftermath of finals week, and it’s only just the start of school, so I’m really worried.”

“She’ll be fine, Ruby, we just need to wait for the Infinite Energy’s effects to wear off completely,” Winter said, smiling. “I’m really, very sorry for ruining your team’s plans, but I believe Weiss is in absolutely no shape to do any sort of studying or tutoring right now. Can we please just get the whole day off together? Sucy and Grandma mentioned that she might just suddenly crash again like last night, so someone needs to be with her all day.”

“I promise, come the weekend, I’ll be back to normal, and will be doing most of the legwork for the assignments we’ll inevitably have,” Weiss added, forcing a smile.

“Oh, sure, that won’t be a problem at all!” Ruby replied. “I’ll go tell Akko and Diana, and I’m sure they won’t have a problem either; you managed to finish most of the homework and reading assignments we had, anyway!”

“I did...?” Weiss asked.

“Yep!” Ruby said. “Your notes got kinda screwy and weird by the end, but you’ve got outlines or complete first drafts for all our papers, and Diana and Akko say they can totally fix the bad parts, AND start figuring out how to help Akko study better now!

“We’ve… basically got pretty much all of today free, all thanks to you!”

Weiss blinked. “… Huh.”

“Well!” Winter said, beaming. “Isn’t that incredibly fortunate?” Her scroll suddenly beeped, she opened it up, and frowned. “… And it seems I just successfully tempted Fate just now.”

Weiss tensed up. “What happened?”

Winter sighed. “It looks like Qrow’s attempt to recruit a ‘grade-A spelunker’ he knew for our next expedition to the Hills went horribly awry…”

“Did he only give an address?” Ruby asked.

“Yes, yes he did, and don’t worry, Ruby, I already know exactly what that means...” Winter said as she dejectedly cleared her entire day planner.

“What does it mean?” Weiss asked nervously.

Winter put her hands on Weiss shoulders, and brought her face level to hers. “It means I’m sorry, Weiss, it looks like I won’t be able to spend the day with you after all; duty calls in the form of a drunk in distress...” she kissed her on the forehead. “Come on, I’ll see you back to your dorm...”

Weiss sighed as Winter got up and put a hand to her back.

Ruby noticed, and frowned. “Actually… you want to spend the rest of the day with me, Weiss? I usually don’t get to my schoolwork till the afternoon because all my errands back home were always in the morning, and I actually have some stuff Diana and Yang wanted me to do down in the city.

“You know, shopping for supplies for Akko, meeting up with some friends of Yang’s, stuff like that.”

“Are you sure you want me coming with you?” Weiss asked. “I might just pass out in the middle of the street.”

“Eh, I’ve got a cart with a bicycle, anyway, and getting out of school for a while might be good for you; worst case scenario, I’ll just throw in an umbrella and a sleeping bag, and get you back home along with the rest of the stuff!” Ruby said.

“And you won’t be overloaded when you’re done?” Weiss asked.

“I’ll just do the supply runs last, and like I said: sniper-scythe muscles!” Ruby replied, pulling her skirt up and showing off the parts of her leg uncovered by the short shorts underneath.

Weiss looked, her eyes widened and her eyebrows rose.

“Sounds like a solid plan to me!” Winter said, unaware of Weiss’ reaction. “Seems like it might be a good time for you and your new teammate to do some bonding yourselves.”

“What’d you say, Weiss? Interested?” Ruby asked. “I’ll understand if you want to just stay back at our dorm and just try to get back to sleep ASAP...”

Weiss shook her head. “No, you know what? A change of scenery might be good, let’s do it; it’d be nice to talk something other than economic concepts and graphs with you, anyway.”

“Yay!” Ruby said, throwing her hands up in the air.

“Then it’s settled: you two have fun out there, and hope I’ll be back here with Qrow in time for dinner,” Winter said as she made for the exit.

Weiss laughed. “We will, Winter!” she called out, before she turned to Ruby. “So, what’s first up on the list?”

“I was planning on hitting the bathhouse first!” Ruby said. “I don’t want to be all stinky and awful to all the crowds there, and well, you can REALLY use a bath and a change of clothes… I’m pretty sure that’s the same uniform you’ve been wearing since yesterday morning and slept in last night...”

Weiss looked down at herself, and blinked. “Oh, dust, you’re right!” she groaned. “I knew I was forgetting something…!”

“Don’t worry, Weiss, it happens to all of us—especially my Uncle Qrow!” Ruby said as they began to leave. “You know, this one time, while he was staying over at our house, he was so hungover and sleepy he missed his pants and put on one of Yang’s skirts instead—and it was one of those black and red plaid skirts, really short with metal studs on the belt.”

“Oh my gosh, how did you find out?” Weiss asked as they passed by the benches at the lobby.

“We were all at the breakfast table when he walked in wearing it. Dad tried to tell him, but we all couldn’t stop laughing—I mean, even our dog Zwei looked like he couldn’t breath.”

Weiss smiled “Then what happened next?”

Ruby stopped by an empty chair. “Then, he figured it out, so he put his leg on our kitchen table like this”--she put one leg up in a seductive manner--”and he went, ‘So, how do I look…?’” she said in a poor imitation of a gravel-voiced man trying to be sexy.

Weiss covered her mouth, her cheeks turning red.

Ruby put her foot off the chair. “He totally did, I swear! It gets even better: turns out, that was the SECOND time he ever wore a skirt without realizing it.”

“What was the first time?” Weiss asked.

“Back when he and dad were studying at Beacon,” Ruby replied. “Turns out, Qrow’d never worn a uniform before, and they told him it was a kilt...”

Weiss shook her head, smiling. “Oh, that’s just mean.”

“He got the last laugh, though!” Ruby said as she opened the door for Weiss. “He said all the girls couldn’t stop talking about how great his legs were,” she said, grinning.

Weiss snorted and shook her head. “… Thanks Ruby, I needed that,” she said as she they began to descend the stairs.

“You’re welcome!” Ruby chirped. “Since you didn’t get much sleep last night, I thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”

As the two of them headed back to their dorm to get a fresh change of clothes for Weiss, she started to think to herself, maybe that terrible, sleepless night was just the prelude to a good, if groggy morning together with Ruby, running errands with her in Mistral.

And with that, Fate was tempted once more.

Note: Assume that Winter talked about Qrow while Weiss was in the hospital, and showed a picture of him, at least. She did not show the several others of him she’s saving for blackmail, and times when she’s sad and needs a laugh at his expense.Believe me, those two skirt incidents mentioned are only the ones Ruby is aware of.

#white rose #dianakko #rwby #little witch academia #and the awrd goes to #fanfic

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