#when i was young i wanted to be a lawyer or a politician

[theglitterypages]

JJK Boys' Jobs If They're Not In JJK Universe (Featuring Gojo, Geto, Toji, and Sukuna)

Gojo Satoru

Gojo is a rich kid, with a charisma and overflowing confidence. He's a trust find baby who was meant to inherit the business of his family so he graduated with a business degree but because he doesn't like how his parents forced him into it, so the moment he graduated he'll become a model just to spite them. He knew he was so cherished at home his parents wouldn't be able to stop him from doing what he wants, so he’ll be out there living his life flying from countries to countries for shoots. Since he loves the spotlight and his name is everywhere it wouldn't be long till someone offers him an acting role. He'll accept it in a heartbeat, his popularity will boom but because Gojo is always looking for something new, a time will come where this man will get tired of the spotlight and start looking for a "lowkey" life and that's the moment he'll finally take the CEO role of their company till he meets his little wife.

Geto Suguru

Geto is intelligent, this man is meant for a field where strategic thinking is a must and with his mindset, I could see Geto as a politician or a lawyer. He'll be an excellent lawyer,even at a very young age he'll make a name for himself and he'll be bagging big clients and he'll never lose a case. He's very picky with the clients he takes in though, so not everyone will have the luxury to be defended by Geto Suguru. Every law firm would get crazy trying to get this man but nah he'll build his own firm and be independent. Geto will probably get married a little later than his peers because he'll be so into his job and career.

Toji Zenin/Fushiguro

Toji is not very good with communicating, with this man's independent and lone wolf persona, Toji will be on a job that's freelance and wouldn't require him to talk or interact with too many people. But given his intelligence and skills in investigating, I'd say Toji would be a private investigator, a job that's not too public, he only interacts with people that he needs and there's no unnecessary dialogues etc. He'll love it that way, though it gets dangerous, Toji doesn't mind this kind of lifestyle, he actually loves this thrill in his life, but once he finds a woman he wants to settle with, he'll start taking care of himself to avoid danger and he'll be wary of the clients he takes in.

Sukuna

Sukuna is physically gifted, and he craves thrill in his life. He's gonna choose a profession that is physically demanding, he could either be a martial artist but he's not very good at playing the teacher part, I swear, he tried to be a coach but man is so tough he'll make his students cry or he'll fight them when they can't do what he wants them to do. So, he'll prefer to be the one to fight, so he could be a boxer or he might try MMA. His ego loves the screams of people whenever he beats his opponent and that is what kept him going in that industry. Sukuna won't stop doing this even if he gets a girl or he gets married, he'll probably retire when he thinks he's old but even then, I'd say he wouldn't go far from the industry, so this is where he'd start coaching.

[preet-01]

Maxiel Political AU

Word Count: 1243

Summary: Max Verstappen only had one goal - to be President. It's all he's wanted since he was just seven years old and all that he's worked towards. But bachelors don't get elected as Presidents, for the most part. Enter Daniel Ricciardo. Daniel's the ideal candidate for the country's most prominent and stressful unpaid job: the President's loving partner, a pretty bauble for the country to fall in love with and look towards. In secret meetings, contracts are signed and a marriage is arranged. Max and Daniel must convince the American people that they are a loving couple and perfect for the White House

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Chapter Two

In the political campaign business, there are certain names that everyone knows regardless of party lines or election levels. Campaign managers, press secretaries, and speechwriters became household names for politicians and politician hopefuls over the years. 

One such name is Sebastian Vettel. 

The German-American from Philly had entered the political scene fresh out of college and had carved out a space for himself. 

From local campaigns to presidential campaigns, he had worked on everything and anything. But his most notable career achievement was approximately four years ago when he was on the Hamilton presidential campaign as the press secretary. 

Now, years later and with many successful campaigns under his belt, Sebastian was looking towards another presidential campaign to put his name on. 

Max Verstappen, by all accounts that Sebastian had heard, was the next big thing after Lewis Hamilton came onto the scene. And by rumors that he’d heard from his contacts, Max Verstappen would be running for President in 2028. 

“You’re barely finished with your first term as a Senator,” Sebastian states when he finally has a meeting with Max Verstappen. The young senator is ambitious, but he does have the results to back it. Though Sebastian would not tell him that just yet, perhaps after they’ve won the presidency. 

“The election is still four years away. Plenty of time for any inexperience to become experience,” Max states. He has no doubts in his abilities. The next few years will be enough for him to fix any shortcomings and build an electable resume for himself. 

“Indeed, I do not doubt that. Your record so far speaks for itself,” Sebastian says, though he seems to be holding back on something. 

“But?” Max inquires. 

“But there are things outside of your work record that will influence your presidential campaign,” Sebastian replies. 

They leave it at that, despite Max wanting to know more about it. Sebastian says it is a matter for a later time, and that he needs to work out some things in the background before it becomes a pressing issue. 

While Max would like to know more about Sebastian’s pressing concerns, he does have committee meetings to go to, and- his train of thought is broken by a text he gets from one of his colleagues. 

S.4398 is going to the courts for constitutional violations 

Plaintiffs hired Ricciardo from Thompson and Lancaster. Should be an easy win 

Max is confused because is he supposed to know who Ricciardo is? There were too many lawyers in the district to know everyone.  

____

“Are you wearing a signet ring?” Oscar questions. When they said that he could get an intern, Daniel assumed that he would get a helpful intern eager to learn and do whatever Daniel needed. He had been like that, taking whatever scraps he could get. Instead, he received Oscar. And while Oscar was very polite at first glance, in Daniel’s opinion the twenty-three-year-old was a menace to society – well mainly to Daniel, but he was society. “Oh god, you’re one of those lawyers,” he groans. 

“It’s a family ring and my grandfather is in town,” Daniel sighs. He hadn’t worn the family signet ring consistently since they’d found out he was a carrier, but his grandfather was in town and he couldn’t get away with it. “Have you filed the McKinley documents?” he asks, changing the conversation from his family to the newest case that Daniel had been chosen as the head lawyer. His record of winning had made it an easy decision for the bosses and plaintiffs.

“Filed them this morning,” Oscar replies, “Vergne was sniffing around about the case when I was filing.” 

“Of course he was. Boss man’s not been very subtle that this case could potentially make me partner,” Daniel sighs. His once close friendship with Jev had suffered with both of them at the same firm and Daniel’s promotion potential being greater than his. He was sad about it, of course, law school would have been hell if it wasn’t for Jev’s friendship. But Daniel wanted to become partner and he’d do whatever was needed to achieve that. 

“We’re meeting with McKinley tomorrow morning, I want you there,” Daniel tells Oscar. Oscar had been his intern for months now, but he hadn’t sat in any of the meetings so far. 

“What?” And for probably the first time, Daniel is able to surprise Oscar. 

“I think you’re ready and it is the next step,” Daniel replies. 

The rest of the day goes by without a hitch. Daniel can avoid seeing his grandfather until it’s time to leave the office. 

His grandfather is waiting for him in front of the building with a town car. “Daniel,” he greets with a nod and motions to the town car. Daniel sighs as he enters the car. All he wanted was to go home and just be a blob in his bed as he contemplated some innocuous decision that he’d made. But when Joseph Ricciardo shows up at your job with a town car, you get in the town car. 

“How was your trip, grandfather?” Daniel inquires. 

“It was adequate,” the older man replies. “I spoke with your friend, the campaign manager,” he says. 

“Sebastian? Why?” Daniel questions. As far as Daniel knows, there was no reason for his grandfather to speak with Sebastian. Daniel knows that his grandfather had gotten acquainted with Seb when Seb worked on the Hamilton campaign the first time around and he endorsed Lewis Hamilton. But since then, as far as Daniel knew, Sebastian hadn’t worked on a campaign that would require an endorsement from his grandfather. 

“He is taking on a new presidential campaign for 28,” Joseph says. “A Senator from New York,” he adds. Daniel knows one of the Senators from New York – John Robbins – they’d gotten coffee a handful of times over the years. He doesn’t think John is a presidential hopeful and he isn’t the type of candidate that Seb likes to work with. No Seb likes younger politicians, not those over the retirement age. 

“Robbins?” 

“No, the other one. Verstappen,” Joseph answers. 

“Verstappen?” Daniel tries to think back to what he knows of the young Senator from New York. Relatively new to the Senate, younger than most of his colleagues, the same party as Lewis, unmarried, and not as established as other 2028 presidential hopefuls. “He’d never win. Not yet anyway,” Daniel says. The voters didn't like unmarried newcomers they barely knew. Politics was a game of strategy and name recognition.

“Hhm, at his present state, he would not win, but should his situation change and he gets more established support, then he does have a strong chance,” Joseph says, handing him a file. “Sebastian compiled a file on him. He will be contacting you soon to discuss a potential, mutually beneficial agreement for both parties involved,” he says. 

Daniel knows what a mutually beneficial agreement means. This wouldn’t be the first time that Daniel had gotten such a file from his grandfather. His cousin’s aspirations were more in line with the videogame industry than politics, so a presidency was far-fetched. Therefore, the attention had returned to getting Daniel hitched to some Senator or Governor who could take the Ricciardo name to the highest office in the country. 

Usually, he ignored them and found one reason or another to deny them. But this was someone that Seb would be working with and that intrigued him. 

He’d meet this Senator Verstappen.

________

I feel iffy about this chapter, but it's a necessary step to get to the first meeting in the next chapter

Updates will be every other week

[the-breath-in-air]

An "oh no what am I going to watch after Fellow Travelers is done?" List

When I first saw the trailer for Fellow Travelers I was disappointed because it looked predictable. Turns out it wasn't nearly as predictable as I thought, and is actually quite good. But then I got to thinking...why not share a list of series and movies that folks might be interested in watching once Fellow Travelers is done airing.

--

If you want to see more about McCarthyism, Roy Cohn and the Lavender Scare:

Bully. Coward. Victim. (2019) and Where's My Roy Cohn? (2019) - Both of these documentaries focus on the life of Roy Cohn, from his time at the McCarthy hearings, to his time as the Studio 54 lawyer, to his work during the Reagan era and his eventual death from AIDS. Where's My Roy Cohn? also focuses in on Roy Cohn's working relationship with Donald Trump. "Bully. Coward. Victim. was produced by the granddaughter of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg and as such, it also focuses more on the lasting impact of Cohn's role in their executions. There's a lot of overlap between the two documentaries, but I think they're both worth watching if you can.

--

If you want to see more stories of gay men in the 1950s:

Against the Law (2017) - This is a biopic about Peter Wildeblood, a man who was put on trial for homosexuality and who, remarkably, acknowledged that he was gay during the trial. This trial and Wildeblood's later actions, are considered pivotal in the movement toward decriminalizing homosexuality in the UK. The movie takes place mostly in the 1950s and, again, deals with queer men trying to find love in a time in which laws, social norms, etc. made it exceedingly difficult to do so. The drama is interspersed with interviews in 2017 with real queer men who were alive at the time of the trial.

--

If you want to see more stories of ruthless politicians trying to hide that they're gay:

A Very English Scandal (2018) - As the title suggests, this miniseries takes place in the UK. It's based on a true story...even the more outlandish moments. Jeremy Thorpe (Hugh Grant) is a career politician who's been hiding that he's gay for decades. He's developed a ruthlessness and callousness to his own situation and he, predictably, treats everyone around him as disposable. Then along comes Norman Scott (Ben Whishaw), a young man who Thorpe is instantly attracted to. But Scott struggles with self-acceptance and mental health issues, and Thorpe has no compassion nor patience for any of that. The result is a dark comedy about this doomed relationship alongside the change to the law in the UK to decriminalize homosexuality.

--

If you want to see more stories of queer folks in the 1980s:

It's A Sin (2021) - This is a miniseries that follows a group of queer folks during the 1980s in London. It's all about their search for love and finding themselves and whatnot, even as they are forced to deal with HIV and AIDS. It's a good show that is worth a watch, especially if you haven't seen much else about being queer in the '80s.

--

Angels in America (2003) - Of course Angels in America was going to end up on this list. It is one of the definitive pieces of fiction on living in New York during the AIDS crisis. The play was originally performed in 1991...just four years after AZT was approved for use in the US to treat HIV and AIDS. It's big, and complex, and as much about the state of the U.S. at the time as it is about these individual characters and their lives. Also, Roy Cohn shows up, working as a political operative for Reagan. It really is, as it's subtitle says, "A Gay Fantasia on National Themes."

[ppeonppeonhan]

2023 BL Breakout Actors

I really hope to see more of these actors next year.

Louis Chiang | Kiseki: Dear to Me

He played a tiny lovesick tyrant who pined for his childhood bff and fellow gang member. I could've watched an entire drama just about him and his journey from impulsive orphan thug to feisty romantic. He was simply electric.

Suggested Role: There's a sports trend in BL right now, and he's so good at the physicality of acting that I'd love to see him play a competitive professional tennis player who's conflicted when he's forced to partner with his nemesis.

Lim Ji Sub | The Eighth Sense

He had to play such a heavy character -- a college student and surfer suffering from depression and survivor's guilt -- and his heartbreaking performance made you want to reach through the screen and give him a hug.

Suggested Role: South Korea does slice of life SO well that I'd really love to see him switch it up and pine for someone in a quasi comedic role. He could play a young real estate agent who starts to fall for one of his picky clients, and they learn together that the perfect home is one you make and not one you find.

Film Thanapat Kawila | Laws of Attraction

I honestly did not enjoy this drama, but I did enjoy his performance. He is so captivating as Charn -- this scenery-chewing, maniacal, traumatized, good-boy-turned-bad lawyer -- that his romantic love interest could not manage to keep up.

Suggested Role: I dunno. I feel like I'd happily watch him play this role again, and take down another corrupt politician.

An Jeong Gyun | Love Class 2

It's so easy to get lost in an anthology when there's three couples and when you're not traditionally attractive, but his character stole the whole damn series. He was so bold and upfront about his emotions in a mature and refreshing way that it made you ignore the beige flags of playful manipulation that comes with courtship, and root for him to win his crush's heart.

Suggested Role: He's actually older (30), and I appreciate that South Korea is exploring more love stories between older men as Thailand conquers the under 25 demo. So for him, I'd say a divorced storyline. Maybe explore the story of how two ex-husbands rebuild their lives apart and rediscover their friendship while they fall for other people.

"Silvy" Pavida | The Warp Effect

Speaking of bloated casts, this series had like a million people in it playing characters of a variety of genders and sexualities, because it was intended to be -- in part -- a modern sex guide that pushed against traditional constructs. But in the midst of all that was a brief performance by Silvy, who was only tasked with playing an aspiring "plus size" actress, but managed to leave a lasting impression, making you want more.

Suggested Role: She's a singer and she's half-Italian. There's gotta be something we can do with that. Maybe the story of a shy singer, who is often hired to record tracks for rising tone-deaf artists, and is encouraged by one to make her debut as her opening act and help her write a romantic duet in Italian for her international audience.

***

Now...most of us agree that Step by Step was...not great. But it did have a lot of Thai actors that I hope to see again soon -- in an entirely different storyline far away from whatever the hell that was.

"Saint" Paramee Matthanadul | Step by Step

Was his character a whiny little shit? Yes. Is he so gorgeous you almost forgot how hot his big brother was? Also, yes. The fandom was pissed his romantic subplot did not get a resolution, because there was so much he could've done with this character if given the opportunity.

Suggested Role: I think he has baby girl potential, so I really want to see him either play a spoiled mafia kid who falls for his mentor OR a rich kid pretending to be a working class waiter at the restaurant he owns, marinated in gay panic every time the head chef scolds him.

Zorzo Nathanan Akkharakitwattanakul | Step by Step

I have yet to watch a proper GL series, but if she was starring in it, I'd clear my TV schedule. There's something so femme fatale about her and her features. She had no business stealing scenes from the nearly full cast of dudes, but she did. Every time.

Suggested Role: I really want to see her in a mystery produced by whoever is doing The Sign right now. Maybe she could play an undercover cop trying to solve a missing person's case in a small town, and her love interest is married to her prime suspect.

"Ben" Bunyapol Likhitamnuayporn | Step by Step

Last, but not least, is the adorable Ben. Who, in spite of wasting our time with the most anticlimactic drama ending, played a character that was an inspiration to every office employee who has been dying to tell their ungrateful and abusive boss to step back and let a bitch cook. He played him with such naiveté and earnestness that it made you want more for his character than a lustful boss who struggled not to abuse his power.

Suggested Role: It's so easy for him to get sucked into passive roles opposite the zaddys of BL, so I'd like to see how he fairs against an equal. Maybe another workplace ensemble comedy where he plays a reporter posing as an intern at a new social media company run by an unhinged mogul spreading fake news, and falls for another intern who helps him take the company down.

[oscar-fastri]

https://www.tumblr.com/oscar-fastri/741434686381883392/finding-out-nico-rosberg-attended-international?source=share

please elaborate on this, i'm very curious

hi anon!! so, here's some context first (from nico's wikipedia page)

i'm going to preface this by saying that this is based on my personal experience with international school and my interpretations of nico and his actions. this is in no way actually representative of his actual person or experience, i'm just a fan theorizing and analyzing :)

(this is continued beneath the cut because i got very rambly and long-winded)

a few things about international schools, particularly international private schools such as the ones nico attended:

it's typically parents from affluent backgrounds who send their children to these schools. think businessmen/entrepeneurs, celebrities, politicians, high-earning doctors/lawyers/etc, and yes, professional athletes.

it's very expensive. very, very expensive. ism's annual tuition starts at 8500€ and can reach 31200€, not including lunch or extracurricular activities (and if you don't participate in extracurricular activities like sports or clubs you'll be ostracized)

application processes are... interesting. yes, it's possible to get in on pure merit, but scholarships are few and far between and often decided arbitrarily. nepotism, money, and influence are very often stronger factors in a child's acceptance.

due to all this, it's a very insulated environment where your social circle consists almost entirely of other people from a similar social and financial background as you.

another effect is that there's typically a pretty small student body. international schools are often k-12 but can have as little as 200 students for all their grades combined, as opposed to public school, where it's quite easy for a high school (3-4 grades, depending on your educational system) to accept thousands of students.

students are therefore pretty hierarchical and, quite truthfully, malicious. social status is the currency in this environment because everyone is well-off. everyone has everything they could ever want, so how do you become more?

you become loved, of course—or at least as close as you can get to being loved in a place like this. or you become insanely successful, but then you'll be hated for shining brighter than everyone else.

you also guard everything you already have (popularity, beauty, reputation, resources, connections) jealously. you are possessive over what is yours because if you are not you will be left with nothing.

finally, true friends are few and far between. you're much more likely to make associations and alliances than actual, genuine connections.

(seem a little familiar yet? no? you don't think international schools parallel formula 1? okay then, let's continue)

now that i've finished psychoanalyzing this demographic, let's move on to nico, who:

grew up in this environment on top of competing in karting from a young age

was famously known for being pretty

was also famously known for being nice(r)

actually shared his resources with one lewis hamilton as a child

speaks five languages. random, but when you learn so many languages, you pick up things from people around you. you become malleable, in a sense. the way you think and the way you perceive the world is multi-faceted and has been shaped and reshaped so many times. (*cough* personal experience *cough*)

refused to be defined by his father's legacy, yet was always shadowed by it

was extremely cautious around the press as a young driver. he knew how to protect himself from those who were out to hurt him, not physically, but his reputation, psyche, emotional state, etc. i've found that most formula 1 drivers take at least a season to realize this and learn, but nico knew from the beginning

was notably a careful driver

genuinely believed he could keep a good relationship with lewis once they were teammates and given championship-challenging machinery

when everything went to shit, he put his head down and basically changed his entire lifestyle to make sure he would win

did everything he could to win. everything. there's a reason why lewis still seems to be traumatized from 2016, and it's not just because he lost the wdc. do you see him avoiding max? not really, but he's admitted to running away from nico in the lobby of his place in monaco (oh, did i mention that they're still living in the same building?)

retired once he had achieved his goal of winning the world driver's championship

retired before the title could be taken from him, because no matter what anyone says, having something taken from you is different from giving it up willingly. now, he gets to keep a piece of his victory that will never be tarnished by defeat

did not tell toto about his retirement in person

did everything he could to win his wdc

but also still considers lewis as his best friend

is once again living in the upper echelons of society, raising his daughters with his wife, the picture-perfect wdc who left with his head held high and is now enjoying the fruits of his labor

we see so many other wdcs continue to fight, to try to hold on to that glory. lewis, seb, nando—their golden days are arguably over, yet they won't stop until their bodies force them to. nico, on the other hand, left, something that seems impossible for any other driver.

i think it is because he grew up in privilege. he has always had something to fall back on. even if he fails, he will always be nico rosberg, formula 1 racer, son of world champion keke rosberg (who won his wdc in very unusual circumstances). if anyone else fails, they would have been a failed formula 1 driver first and foremost. he may have disliked comparisons with his father, but that doesn't mean they didn't protect him in a way.

that's not to say that nico didn't fear defeat just as much as anyone else or that he didn't crave the title. i don't deny that he wanted it just as much as anyone else and that he fought for it with everything he had. i hold a lot of respect for him for what he went through during those years.

it's just that nico, once he had it, no longer felt the need to keep chasing the high, especially when it comes with the risk of flaying himself open again. why would he do that, when he's already experienced it for the first time, when it's the purest?

there's a kind of hunger that only comes when all you have is racing, a kind of hunger that people like nico rosberg will never know. this is the hunger that sebastian vettel, fernando alonso, and lewis hamilton, who all came from less fortunate backgrounds and never had the perspective that nico has, will always have in them.

(some may ask, now, then why is max verstappen not like nico? why is he not satisfied yet? i contend that his father's way of raising him has instilled an even keener and rawer version of this hunger in max. also, he's already hinted at leaving in 2028. max and nico are the two sides of the coin that is being the formula 1 driver son of a formula 1 driver. ironically enough, they both clawed their first championship from the myth and legend that is lewis hamilton, triumphing over him in the dying moments of a season, but not before giving everything they had.)

on the other hand, the fact that nico was able to regard lewis as a friend for so long, even when they were competitors, and is still calling him his friend today, speaks volumes to me about his character. there are few people who are capable of experiencing the things he has and keep their heart open, if guarded.

hell, even keke rosberg barely trusted lewis in the early days of their friendship, but nico welcomed him in with open arms and still defends and praises him to this day.

however, there is also very few people who could have done everything he did to win—mind games, hard racing, burning a decades-long friendship to the ground (from both sides)—and not run away screaming whenever they hear lewis' name. i wonder what went through his head during that year and right after.

i just find it fascinating how this little piece of information sheds so much light, at least for me, into nico's character. he has layers! like an onion! isn't he neat?

(i wrote this at 1am please forgive any unhingedness)

[suckerforlovesblog]

A perfect match?

„A perfect match?“ - Masterlist

Everything was different when you opened your eyes. Everything was different once again. Without knowing where you were, you sat up, rubbed your tired eyes and took a look around you. A pair of bright green eyes starred back at you through the dark. Hearing a deep rumbling voice saying that everything is fine now , you felt a shiver run down your spine and everything turned. The darkness welcomed you back once again…

Series warning: ABO Dynamics, Smut, Unprotected PIV , Scenting, Knotting, Language, age gap, Claiming, Breeding Kink

Chapter 1: Why is nothing staying the same?

Summary: Easing into the story we get a lot of background about Y/N upbringing, her family dynamics and the world around her.

Chapter warning: Fluff, maybe angst.

Word count: 1.8k

This is my first fan fiction that I have written in a while. Please give me some feedback and let me know how you liked it. <3

~ taglist: @niiight-dreamerrrr ~

Anytime you remembered your childhood, you always started smiling because it all came down to this: You had lived the first years of your life in Europe and travelled a lot. Sadly you don’t remember too much about it now. But one memory still sticks out because everything was just perfect, from today’s perspective at least. You had spent the whole day at the beach, maybe in the Netherlands, you could not remember and honestly it doesn’t matter. The sun was shining warmly on your skin, you were sitting in the sand. Your mother was building sandcastles with you whilst your brother was swimming in the sea and your father went to get you all ice cream. Chocolate for you because that was your favorite and strawberry for your two year older brother. He came back with the ice cream, gave it to you and smiled. He brushed a hair behind your ear and then sat down next to you and your mother to help you build the sand castle of your dreams.

Eventually your brother joined you and the four of you build the perfect castle! It was two story’s tall with a lot of towers and surrounded by a moat. You were extremely proud of it…

Most of the summers of your childhood were spent like this, at a beach in Europe building sandcastles when you were younger or going surfing when you became older.

You did never spend two summers in the same place because your parents moved a lot. You never knew why and you never asked either. Your little brain couldn’t comprehend it anyway and you never saw the unfairness nor the cruel of the world around you.

Eventually you got to understand the environment surrounding you and that your family was very special. Thus explaining why you were always on the move. You went on traveling through Europe, then to Asia when you were about 12 years old. The periods you stayed in the same spot got even shorter because your brother “presented”, as your parents called it, two years after moving to Asia. Your parents were extremely scarred for your brother because he presented as Beta and the world leaders decided that Betas were even more worthless than Omegas.

Omegas had a purpose. They were used for breeding, caring for their pups and thus keeping the world population alive, being a rut bunny, serving their Alphas. But Betas on the other hand we’re worthless. At least that’s what was decided. They were taken from their families to work in all the jobs Alphas didn’t want. Most Alphas were lawyers, doctors, politicians, worked for the military or the police, meaning all important and good jobs were strictly reserved for Alpha men. There were very little Alpha women but on the other hand Omega’s were mostly women. You came to learn that barely any men was born an Omega. And if any young man presented as Omega they were killed shortly after because they’re was just no place for them in the system. Beta’s were both men and women and they worked all the other jobs imaginable.

Your parents explained this to you and your brother as well with some other basic facts about the world around you. They had done a very good job at keeping all of this away from you so that you could enjoy your childhood and live a happy life. Even though you never went to school because you never stayed long enough in a place you were very well educated. You were able to read, write, do mathematics, learn other languages besides English and even pursue other interests as well. You brother really enjoyed chemistry and physics whilst you liked history and literature. But apparently you knew barely anything about the world you lived in.

You and your brother were really mad when your parents finally told you about everything. But from today’s perspective you are really happy that your parents let you live like this - unbothered with not a care in the world, truly happy.

They explained to you further that most Alpha men lived in packs. Your father used to live in one as well because he was a purebred Alpha. He eventually decided to leave his pack when he met your mother because he wanted to live an unbothered life and not share her with anyone. You came to learn that your mother was an Omega. It is common that Alpha males went to a place where they decided on an Omega, mated and claimed them and took them home to their packs. Claiming was supposed to be something very special, to form an unbreakable bond between an Alpha and their Omega but most Alphas didn’t live this ways anymore. Many had more than one Omega and lived in Harem like situations in packs and it was expected to share the Omegas between the Alpha men in the pack. When an Omega became round with a pup, the child was accepted and got the clan name. Alpha men in clans didn’t care for their pups anyways because they see Omegas as toys, rut bunny’s, and left the Omega women to care for all the pups together.

Your farther never liked the way Omegas were treated and didn’t want to participate in these cruel ways. He did however life in a pack when he was younger because he had likeminded young men around him, they enjoyed the same interests like soccer or hockey and pursued the same careers. They all studied law. But as soon as the pack leaders, one of the older Alphas claimed an Omega he expected everyone to follow in his footsteps since they were all about the same age. Your farther was the only one who didn’t follow his orders and tried to wait it out. All the other men followed their leader, went to get an Omega, mated and claimed them and afterwards ignored the poor women most of the times. Their Omegas kept the household running, cooked, did laundry and were passed amongst the men to have their fun with them.

Your farther despised the way the others treated their Omegas. That’s simply the reason he left. He wanted his Omega all to himself, not having to share. He believed in true love and soulmates. He wanted to have pups with his Omega, raise them, be a farther and make memories with his children.

When he randomly meet a young girl on a night out they both felt extremely drawn to one another. The young girl turned out to be your mother and the one love of your farther. Your mother told you she was out with some girlfriends because they hadn’t presented yet and because everything was different, more open back then. Anyways she saw your farther at a bar and still to this day she was able to tell you exactly what he was wearing and what he smelled like. They looked at each other and it was basically love at first sight.

When she went home later that night, she presented as Omega and went through her first heat.

Your farther followed her strong scent home and knocked on your grandparents door to claim your mother as his Omega.

They then also got married and moved from the state of Texas to Europe, the city of Berlin in Germany to be exact. Germany had the most relaxed rules back then and so your parents lived there until your mother became round with a pup. A little while later your brother Tyler was born. Your parents and brother then moved to the city of Wien in Austria. Your mother got pregnant again and shortly after your birth your family moved to the city of London, England. You then started moving around Europe every two years, like clockwork because your parents didn’t want to blood test you and your brother and then enroll you into the educational system. The result of the bloodwork determines your fate because the education you receive will be based upon your later role in society. Alphas will get the best education, suitable for packleading and families, also finances, law, guns… Omegas on the other hand will learn about devotion, housekeeping, childcare, cooking and other matters of making them good housewives. Betas will barely learn anything, most of them can’t read or write, they only learn about matters important for their future job.

When your brother presented as an Beta at the age of 15 while you were in Bali, Indonesia you started moving places even faster. The rules were even stricter now and your parents were really scared of you presenting soon as well. But that didn’t happen until 2 years later.

You woke up shortly after your 16th birthday, feeling feverish, sweat covering your face when you cried out to your mother. She came into your room really fast, kissed your head and then helped your through your first heat. It lasted only two days but was really hard on you, cramping, sweating, shivering as well as feeling nauseous. Your farther went to get some immune suppressant from a place somewhere and you moved shortly after. Your parents hoped the suppressants would not just change your hormonal balance so you didn’t get heats anymore but also suppress your scent because people looked at you not just a couple of times when you were out with your parents. You and your whole family knew you were living on borrowed time because what your parents were doing was illegal.

Your brother left your family when you where nearly 17 to move to Spain and take a position as a craftsman there. Spain and most of Europe seemed to be changing their strict rules surrounding Betas and becoming kind of a sanctuary and safe place for them. You were really happy for your brother and wished him all the best. Sadly you never got to know if he arrived in Europe because the American Law Enforcement found you…

[mikeysbabygirl]

DEAD GIRLS TELL NO TALES

Masterlist-

NEXT CHAPTER-

Pairing : Bonten!Rindou Haitani x fem!reader. Bonten! Ran Haitani x fem!reader

Synopsis : " 'cause two can keep a secret if one of them is dead "

" Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned"

What if their first love came back ? What if everything they thought had happened that night was a lie ?

WARNING : +18, Minors DNI. This story will contain explicit smut, heavy scenes as violence, sex work, sex trafficking.

Word count : 10k ( I talk a lot sorry )

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list !

CHAPTER 01:

And if you were asked, what could you say about being a woman ?

Being dismissed, raped, told to shut up and bake cookies. Because a man who speaks his opinion is still a man, but when a woman speaks her opinions out loud she suddenly turns into a bitch. And you were okay with it, really. If being a bitch means being a woman who won't bang her head against the wall obsessing over someone else's opinion, then you would gladly wear that name as a crown.

The rules are simple, If you're a girl, you are allowed to be pretty, cute, sexy, just don't act too smart, don't stand up for yourself. If you're a boy, on the other hand, there are no rules.

To not be mistaken for what you were not, you liked men, men sure are cool, and strong, and leaders.

But that alone wasn't enough to tell if they deserve to live or not. It wasn't enough for the man you were watching.

Gross...

Disgust increased inside you at the way he was eyeing you from his table, a young pretty raven haired girl sitting on his lap, barely seventeen...

It was way too easy for them to mistake the look on your eyes, full of murderous instinct with a seductive one, what a bummer... Not that it didn't work on your favor, you knew by the end of the night, he would be yours, eternally, the last one he would give himself to.

You sure were no one to decide who should live and who should not, you never claimed to be god. But in that case, where were him ? How could he let all of this happen to those young girls ?

He wouldn't allow all of this abuse, sure he was missing. And you were pretty sure he wouldn't mind if someone did the job until he would come back.

Masashi Ogawa, what a powerful, influential man. A forty-year-old politician, 6'2" full of empty promises and superficial smiles, 182 lbs of perversion.

Underneath it all, the designer suits and the perfect dad next door's hairstyle, sleeps a disgusting human being, one that only wakes up when ships from Saudi Arabia would anchor in Tokyo's harbor.

He was an essential part of the equation, was, because from the sultry looks he was giving you from his table on the club, you already got him wrapped around your finger.

He occupies a high place in the hierarchy of La Compagnie, an underground organization wearing a fresh cute french name, as fresh and cute as the colleen and high school girls working to fill their pockets.

La Compagnie is a living hell, managed by the dirtiest devil to ever grace the earth, Hiroto Mori.

Once upon a time, a man you called dad.

Politicians, lawyers, supreme court justices, doctors and many more involved in minor's trafficking and pimping. It would take a year to explain how it goes behind closer doors, but to summarize everything, La Compagnie has been active since so many years, maybe even before your birth, a very well planned organization.

He stood up, your heart missed a beat as you watched him hold the girl's hand and start walking down the stairs separating your floor from his VIP one, every step he was making, you knew toward you, made this huge club shrink in size. Your sweaty palm caressed your inner thigh discreetly, checking on the garrote attached to your garter belt, you sighed as he got closer.

Four years of planning, training, four years of hatred and grudge, this had to work, you took so many risks for it, everyone sacrificed so many things for it, It has nothing to do with your humanity or your conscience, these are of no use when dealing with such monsters.

This is the right thing to do, your mind kept repeating. So many broken families, so many destroyed lives, someone has to do something, otherwise this nightmare would perpetrate for years.

And as much as you worked for it, convinced yourself that it was not such a big deal, you knew your world and life was about to change completely.

Not that it didn't already...

He and his mistress passed by your table, his arm wrapped around her waist. She didn't look at you, like a rag doll she just stared straight ahead, but he did. He gave you a suggestive look followed by a supposedly charming smile, a silent invitation. You wouldn't have been able to hear his words anyway because of the cacophony and music of the club.

You returned his smile with a slight nod, faking your interest on his silent offer. You could feel his burning gaze on your body as he passed by, and suppressed a disgusted shiver. You hated to remember you only wore that dress for him, a tight short white dress that gave you that angelic air he adores, this surely was what caught his eye on you, and you hated that you had to use your body to get to him.

Women are not defined by their body, and if often they would use it to achieve their goals, it only showed how men got easily distracted. Right, why should a woman feel guilty about using her charm to fulfill her goal, if a man doesn't feel shameful to fall for it ? It was their fault in the first place if a nice ass got them losing their minds.

Just like Masashi, letting his guards down for a beautiful pair of breasts. If he took some time to overthink it a little bit, he would have figured out that there is nothing good in him that would make a twenty two lady interested in a threesome with him and a teenage girl, way too young to be in such a club.

Men will be men, you shrugged as you drank down what was left from your drink. Making sure your lipstick wasn't ruined before getting up, adjusting your dress and silently taking the same path they just walked to.

A few meters further on, you could see him pass the dance floor to rush into a rather dark corridor located at the corner of the club, surely the one that leads to his private apartments. A remote room, it was perfect, the plan followed the path traced. You felt like a god that night, the rules were yours, the destiny was yours to write, and the punisher was none other than you.

The sound of your heels clicking on the floor had something extremely empowering when you stepped inside the corridor, the loud music and people's voices from the dance floor were muffled now, your senses were sharp, alerted by every little sound since you couldn't see much of things due to the darkness, following slowly where their footsteps sounds were leading you.

Finally, you arrived at the end of that long corridor, and you were met by his sultry eyes analyzing you from head to toe with a huge smile, he was standing inside his room holding the door largely open.

He didn't recognize you, it's been years now, you grew up, you changed, you barely recognized yourself.

-" C'mon little lady, don't be shy " he opened the door he was holding a little bit more, making space for you to step inside.

Shy, you would have laughed if you could. If only he knew...

You entered the room silently with a smile, eyes roaming around every corner of that one. It was a spacious room, very refined. There is no doubt that this club belongs to him. The walls painted in dark colors contrasted with the light colors of the bedding, on which incidentally was sitting the teenager, wearing a dress much too tight for her own comfort.

Her features didn't show any fear, which told you she has been by his side long enough to turn numb to everything. Her brown eyes were so empty, and under the low light, you could see some bruises adorning her pale skin here and there. Just as a good puppet, she sat on the edge of the bed with her hands on her lap, and didn't moved an inche when Ogawa closed the door and slowly walked toward her, stood next to the teenager and moved her hair to the side to start placing kisses on her neck's skin.

His dark eyes looked up to you, who were still standing close to the door, and he smiled on her neck.

-" That's my good girl, her name's Shuko".

No, no she's not. Her name's Lisa, you stole it from her, as well as her life and youth.

-" as for me, you can call me daddy" he stated with a wry smile.

What if I called you dead, instead? You stopped yourself right in time from rolling your eyes.

A small laughter left his mouth when Lisa whimpered, he pulled her hair slightly to lift her head up so she was kissing him, and you had to swallow the bile coming up your throat.

The morality of this world has sunk deep down into its own unheard rock bottom, leaving a few bubbles to reach the visible layer. But the human eye has accepted its virtue on the merits of wealth, power, race, religion, fortune, fame and forged promises. Bypassing the penultimate truth. Every seed was conceived from the womb of unbiased morality.

And if you had doubts running to your head previously, now looking at the shell of a human being Lisa turned into after they stole her innocence, every bit of it disappeared into an ocean of hatred and rebellion.

She, as well as million other girls and boys could not do anything, they had to accept their fate. But you, you rose up from the death, the ball was in your court.

If the price of saving those lives was your humanity, your soul, then be it.

Then fucking be it, you thought as you watched him gesture you to come closer, sliding the straps of Lisa's dress to uncover her young bruised breasts.

Lions were raising from their slumbers, turning their head up to the sky. Hearing their roars felt like claps of thunder, breaking from the spell they were under.

Looking through her awakened eyes, lions were raising from your slumber.

With a slow, teasing step, you approached where he was standing. You could see he was struggling to contain his excitement through his eyes, and you wondered if he could see your hunger for blood through yours.

When you were in front of him, with a slight smile you ran your hands over his silk shirt, unbuttoning it at the same time under his burning glance.

-" gorgeous" he whispered, eyes lost on your features, your smile widened, eyes still focused on your task.

You chose to stay silent, he didn't have to hear your voice, he didn't even needed to, isn't it what they liked ? When women were being silent ?

Deathly silent. You were afraid that if you opened your mouth, all that would come out would be a sob. You were sure a strong woman now, but this, this was the most exciting event you ever experienced, and that meer fact was frightening.

Hell, just what kind of cursed dirty creature were you, to get excited for what you were about to do ?

You were done with his shirt, and lifted your head to look him in the eyes, feeling Lisa's hues on you as well. You couldn't quite tell what she was thinking about, her expressions were unreadable, and you were sorry she had to witness what would come, she already went through a lot...

-" What's your name ?" He asked, tilting his head to the side curiously.

And for a second you wondered, what would he think if you told him your real name ? Would he even remember ? Would he regret ? Would he be scared ?

Surely not, you were a little lamb back then, a seventeen little girl thrown to the wolves, just as Lisa.

Good, now you would give him a reason to be scared.

Ignoring his question, your palms laid flat on his chest to push him on the bed, his dark brown eyes flickered with surprise at the strength of your push, but it was soon replaced by lust when you straddled him, knees sinking in the mattress on each side of his body with your dress riding up your thighs. The man gulped down, his hands came caressing your skin, roaming way too high under your dress, but you let it slide, he wouldn't make it long enough anyway.

Looking at your brighter eyes, he lifted his head from the mattress, lips parted to welcome yours. You bend over a little more, reaching for the garrote and taking it out, his eyes widened slightly, burning with excitement.

-" I could never tell you were into this " his sly smile showed his ignorance, he was so wrong to think all of this was a kind of game, you were done playing long ago.

You saw the girl startling next to you two on the bed, you didn't gave it much attention, sure they used to beat her with things like that according to the bruises on her body. She must be thinking what her role was into this, wanting to be obedient and avoid any punishment , if only she knew from now on, she wouldn't have to take orders from anyone.

The garrote was a leather lace, very good looking, it had nothing to do with the weapon used since antiquity, so much that he had mistaken it for whatever sort of sex toy. But it was pretty strong, unfortunately he won't be alive to testify it after.

Impatient, he buckled his hips against yours, palms trying to get your closer to his body, your smile disappeared right then, frustration starting to get the best of you, you always had a short temper anyway.

Leaning just a little more against his ear, he moaned shamelessly, you did nothing but starting to wrap the garrote around his neck, so softly you didn't even recognized the strength you worked for four years to get. You were not really into those role plays or games, but sure rope games implied fake choking, and you started thinking he really was into it from the bulge growing in his pants.

He felt your smile widen against his ear, your eyes looked at the girl on the edge of the bed, heavy with meaning, then you whispered.

-" The hunt... Is on "

He couldn't comprehend your words, because as soon as you spoke, both of your hands pulled agressively at each side of the rope, and his eyes widened while his hands flew to his neck, trying to free himself from the grip.

Lisa got off from the bed, a cry left her mouth, eyes watering and body trembling, standing as far as possible from you. She eyed the door, thinking about running away but you shot her a look that immediately dissuaded her, which made her only start crying louder.

So, so burdened with a Machiavellian mind, diseased with hemorrhagic heart, sickened by corruption. You couldn't see him as a human being suffocating under your grip, you saw him as a result, the remnant of the bad in a corrupted society, and you had to eradicate it.

It was far from being easy, he moved like a ragged beast under you, flailing around, clutching and clawing at your thighs, trying to reach your neck, throwing a couple of hasty punches at your chest.

But evil isn't supposed to be easy, it never was. Human brain is coded for compassion, guilt, for a kind of empathic pain that causes the person inflicting harm to feel a degree of suffering that is in many ways as intense as what the victim is experiencing.

You looked at him trying and trying, turning blue and cyanotic, hearing his strangled sounds and the muffled cried and pleads of the teenage girl.

It was a mess, the rope burning your hands until almost drawning blood, the scratches on your skin, you tried your best to stay there straddling him while he fought for his life, just like he was drowning, he never seemed to reach the surface.

You could see the fear and anger in his eyes, and hear Lisa begging for whatever, but you were not there anymore, it was like you were looking at them, at you from above, like a god.

Taking a human's life was a weird experiment, somehow hard to describe. It was awful, it smelled like blood, brought unwelcomed fear of yourself and shame into you, but the adrenaline made you swallow it gladly, take it until the last breath of the life dying like a candlelight under your hands.

You were strangling him, and guilt was a demon strangling you from inside, but everytime you heard a broken cry from the girl struggling to keep her body steady near the window, you pulled at the rope harder, rage seeping through your eyes until he couldn't find the strength in him to hit you or scratch you anymore, to move anymore.

And you became too dizzy, dancing with your demons to notice his hands turning cold, the more his grip on your thighs loosened, the more you distanced yourself from reality, beasts roaring inside you commanding to surrender your soul. You kept losing your reigns, letting them take away every bit of life, as you lose humanity bit by bit, you kept blurring away from this world.

You looked at what used to scare you in the eye, and showed them the devils they created in you.

They told you. They told you to never look in their eyes, that it would make things easier for you, but you did. You stared at his eyes slowly getting lost in the background, and you took all the damage that came with it because taking a life isn't supposed to be easy, it is supposed to make you feel hideous, it is supposed to make you want to stop, and every fiber of your dying soul begged you to stop, that it still was not late. Yet, there was this rotten part, the one smiling deviously and making you wonder why would you stop when they didn't? Why would you have mercy on them when they didn't have any for you or for anyone else ?

His hands started slowly falling on each side of his body, you looked absent-mindedly as his pupils dilated, spiders crawling upon your brain, you could feel them wrestling for control.

You didn't let go of the garrote, even when his lips parted open, even when his head fall back on the mattress, not even when Lisa's cries stopped.

He was the first on a soon mountain of corpses you would lay your head on, the first stain of blood on your soul.

You killed yourself that day.

It wasn't a bad thing.

It wasn't the whole,you just cut the parts that don't define anymore. Embraced the truth, in order to make this world a better one, or at least this country.

You killed yourself, but the real you survived and was building from the pieces bit by bit.

He was now lying under you, lifeless, silent. The room was too silent, deathly. You couldn't stop looking at your mess, your masterpiece, from where he was now, he couldn't hurt anyone anymore.

The silent treatment was hard to take, you would rather take a verbal beating to fill the holes inside.

Surrender came in a different form, as if holding to the rope was a kind of denial for what you did, but as you as you let go of the weapon, the truth fell on your shoulders, and it stinks.

Your eyes trailed to the mirror on the vanity not far from the door, you looked at your reflection. Stared at the reaper into her deep cold eyes, and you weren't scared of her.

You lived in hell for years at a time, learned to accept that bringing your soul back from the abyss, you must have forgot some parts. It was strange to look at her reddened hands because they looked nothing like yours, they were heavy, weighting on you as a silent reminder for what you just did.

And you got up, taking your weapon by the way. You weren't guilty, maybe it was too soon to feel it, yet you were numb, and scared.

Scared that you were not yourself.

Or more precisely scared that you were yourself, this is you.

Afraid of what's hidden in the rotten parts, of what they turned you into.

They killed her, the young you.

Silent now was your heavy chest, for when she left your heart grew still, you wished to slay yourself for the thirst you felt even after this, the hunger. But what has died you cannot kill.

The young girl's eyes widened and her back pressed against the wall when you turned to look at her, Lisa couldn't believe it, the beautiful, stunning woman she saw on the club was now nothing more than a monster, your eyes were so lifeless, devoid of humanity when you made small steps toward her, and her heart was bleeding from fear and anxiousness. Though she already went through the worst, being sold and used at fifteen, she never saw something like you.

Never saw a man like you, no, you were a woman, graceful, Lucifer disguised as an angel, you held yourself so proudly that she thought the world belonged to you.

Like a god.

-" Please" her voice came out as a muffled cry, through your rough and numb surface, she managed to make your heart squeeze in your chest with those tears in the corner of her hues. You reached for the syringe that was also hidden in your garter belt, taking it out and seeing her gulping down, tears starting to run down her cheeks again.

- " Please no, I didn't do anything... "

-" I know." You took off the lid of the syringe, making eye contact with her shaking form again. " For your sake, it is better to not remember anything ".

Her eyes went from you to the drug in your hands, then back to your face. It was easy to figure out how frightened she was, fisting her hands on her sides when you came closer, she didn't even showed the same fear for the man previously, no, you were really something else.

-" When you'll wake up, they'll take you back to your family, 'kay, Lisa ?"

Her eyes widened, her chest tightened, it has been so long since no one called her by that name, your voice was so empty yet your words wanted her to relax, and made her relax despite she didn't wanted to.

Her family, so many ones promised this, just to take advantage of her body and leave her in that living hell again, no one could free her, all those were empty promises.

But you had nothing to do with them, you didn't even looked at her body, you looked at her without prejudice or expectations, you didn't asked for anything, you were frightening, but something about you had her wanting to surrender, she could do nothing even if she wanted to anyway.

Making a last step toward her, you thought it would be better to warn her about what would come. She grew into such a world, these last years, where no one asked for her permission, consent, treated her like an object. And though you would do what you had to do with or without her answer, she needed to feel like she took the wheel, like she has some power.

-" Now, gonna stick this needle into your jugular vein, and you're gonna fall into a deep slumber. " You explained, removing the bubbles from the syringe. " When you'll wake up, the cops would take your statement, but all you would remember is him taking you, and only you " your eyes warned her. " to this room, then, everything blacked out, and you found yourself in the hospital with your crying mother next to you, is it okay Lisa ?"

A lump forming in her throat, she nodded her head absent-mindedly. All of this seemed so unreal, ethereal, could she really trust you now ? Would you really bring her back to her family?

After two long years, it sounded impossible, but you just killed Masashi Ogawa, her worst nightmare, a man feared by thousand others on the underground. You made it possible and a desperate, immature part of her inner self wanted to believe you, as you rested your hand on her bruised neck to tilt her head to the side.

-" Gonna hurt ?" Her broken voice shattered your heart. She looked like an injured puppy, eyes wide stuck on yours, searching for some maternal instinct. You shook your head, shushing her as you slowly penetrated the needle inside her vein.

-" nothing will hurt anymore, I'll make sure of it " the liquid slips smoothly inside her body, emptying the syringe, she stared at your with fear and tears in her brown hues, slowly going half-lidded while her body started relaxing. You caught her, by wrapping your hand around her waist, and her head fall back, she whimpered faintly.

-" I've got you, I'm here to make it better ".

And she blacked out, finally closing her eyes and falling into a deep slumber. You rested her body carefully on the bed, as far as you could from the dead one.

Dead, you still struggled to believe it. Numb, you couldn't recognize your own body, as if you were projected out of it, flying somewhere and seeing it from above. Your actions were those of an automated, took the phone from his pocket, they gave you his password anyway.

Scrolling through many of his secret recorded videos at La Compagnie's hotel, you chose a random one of them, they were all equally incriminating.

The video was a short one, not more than four minutes but everything was there, from the way he used that obviously too young girl's body, to the way she wouldn't stop crying under him. You rolled your eyes, couldn't believe he held such an evidence with him so nonchalantly, but then only made your blood boil because it was once again a proof that they weren't scared of anything.

Except you. You swore to become their worst nightmare.

Alaya Kuuro, yes, this one would make the job. She was a honest journalist, dedicated her life fighting for the weak never asking for repay.

In less than an hour, everyone would know about Masashi Ogawa, a cheerful politician.

Involved into minors embezzlement , the one who takes care of their change of identity, false papers, and sell the girls at auction like vulgar antiques, to old perverts thirsty for power. You pressed the send button, not even bothering to type any text with it, they would eventually know it is a murder when the morning comes.

Sure this would create a huge hole in your dad's plans, his business would be put on hold, waiting to find someone else to change the girls names and identities, otherwise how could they send them to different places all around the world?

It was all that you needed to paralyze La Compagnie for now, so you could hunt properly.

This is it, this is the hunt.

You never claimed to be a hero, you knew killing would turn you into a villain yourself.

May god forgive them, they killed you, and you were born from your own ashes like a phoenix.

May god forgive you, you were born a villain in a world that needed a hero.

•••

He removed the last bouquet of flowers he brought, and another fresh one soon replaced the latter, much brighter, much younger. It was a routine for him that everytime he would come, a bouquet of your favorite flowers would be laid on the grave. If he could, he would do it everyday. He hated, loathed to see those flowers fading, somehow, it only exacerbated his pain and reminded him of how your body should be doing the same, six feet under. Therefore, he didn't knew it but replacing those ones were one of the few coping mechanisms he found, and if he wasn't more often busy with Bonten's business, it wouldn't bother him to do it every single day of the year.

Ran's nostrils were invaded by the scent of freshly cut grass and the freshly deposited flowers, the early winter's raindrops threatening to start pouring at anytime from the gray monotonous sky, everything around was just so depressing, he couldn't stop feeling that same emptiness he tried to fill with drinks, drugs, and many other thing he knew you would probably don't like. But you were not there anymore.

He couldn't believe that he would ever swallow the pain of missing you, just the sound of your name still strikes his heart in such a way that he couldn't breathe. And he understood four years ago that love was a bound that death could not part, gone from his arms, held in his heart, you were.

-" I always liked to call you angel " his lazy smile stretched a little more at the memory. " Never expected you to become a real one ".

It also became a routine to talk to that tombstone, Rindou used to find it stupid at first, but he saw him little by little starting to do it too, until telling you about everything, the most boring details of his life. This might have sounded weird or even out of character for what they were doing on daily basis, but when it came to you, nothing was out of character. They knew you even before they knew this delinquent life, nothing would change their rather soft nature when it comes to you.

-" I think rain's coming " he tilted his head to look at the heavy clouds above. " D'ya still hate it when It rains, even there ?".

He had to undo his necktie slightly, feeling a lump forming in his throat. It was like the words were choking him, he struggled to get them out yet he kept trying because he just couldn't bring himself to let go.

He tried, God knows Ran tried to overcome it, and he hated thinking about it but he even tried to replace you, it only made him feel even more pathetic since he never could.

Fuck, it happened four years ago, how much before he could finally wake up without an empty hole in his chest ? How much before he could finally be able to say he overcame the grief ?

He knew Rindou didn't neither, they both just cared about you so much that they were still there, visiting the grave every now and then. Talking about that one, he was standing few meters away, giving his brother some intimacy. It was weird because they both knew how much they were suffering, yet they hated talking about it or showing it, outside this cemetery at least.

It was like your name became something forbidden out of this place, a silent pact they both respected.

-" you sure would call me pathetic if you knew everytime it rains I feel nostalgic " a little laugher left his mouth, while his hand brushed his hair back. "I'm not pathetic, I just... "

Four years of him trying to put this into words, articulate this loss, and he still struggled to find the right ones. It just didn't felt right, at first, talking to this tombstone had something soothing, but now it only makes him cringe, and he would've stopped, but he wasn't ready to let go of the last thing that was left behind you.

The truth was that the pain was still there, the emptiness was still there. All your friends were done grieving, your family stopped coming to visit, or to change the flowers, and the world seemed to turn as if nothing happened. And the truth was that he hated it, the world seemed to only revolve around you when you were alive, around your smile, around the way you would curse them then fix their fight injuries as if nothing happened, how hypocritical it was that it didn't shattered when you left, that everyone except them carried on with their life.

Those memories made him close his eyes faintly, cursing under his breath because of how they were burning. He promised he would not shed another tear, yet everytime he remembered about your years together, his chest would tighten until he wanted to scream, to cry out for help or rather just die there and stop feeling anything.

-" If i could, I'd bargain with time itself to bring ya back t'me, to us" he turned slightly to look at his younger brother, who noticed him and kept his gaze as impassible as he could. " I'd do it. I'd give a piece of m'life to see ya again ".

But he could not, and he felt like the most useless man in the world. He let the world take you from them when he was supposed to protect both you and Rindou since your childhood, he promised he would, and he failed. And it was nothing compared to the failure he ever knew, this one tasted like a curse, this one would never be repaired.

-" I fucking can't. All I'd ever be able to do is to... love you... 'til my last fucking breath."

He barely believed you could hear him, he didn't believe in fairytales or anything else and knew for fact you were nothing more than old bones surrounded by worms, this habit of talking to the tombstone was mostly for him, his sanity, to keep him grounded. And it was unfortunate because he would have liked you to hear those words, the ones he had always been afraid to say to your face.

It was cruel to think that what drove him to realize his feelings was to see the earth being thrown over your coffin, if he could turn back time, he would say it, he knew he would say it until his tongue felt sore, but it was too late now, and he had to live with this heavy burden, carry it to his deathbed.

He stood up as best he could, dusting off his suit pants. Ran put his hands in his pockets and smiled faintly one last time.

-" your spirit's better not leave our side, angel. Or I'll bring it back by that cute ass of yours".

Without adding anything else, he turned his back and walked a little further away from the tombstone. He took out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket and lit it, while looking at his younger brother who was walking without a word to where he was crouching a few seconds earlier.

About Rindou, he usually preferred to sit, with his back against the tombstone. He was everytime careful to not crash the flowers his brother brought, and would lift his head to look at the sky, it was somehow better to forget about everything around.

Growing up, he had his own notion of grief, thought it was a sad time that follows the death of someone you loved and you had to push through it to get to the other side. But within these last years, he learned there was no other side, no pushing through, rather there is absorption, adjustment, and acceptance.

Rindou found out grief was not something to complete, but rather to endure. He wished it would have been a task to finish and move on, but it became little by little an element of himself, a new way of seeing, a new dimension of self.

He wasn't better than his brother in this matter, he tried by many ways to move on, to forget about it and just let you rest in peace, but this death... It exposed parts of him he should never have seen, it brought tears to his eyes he never shed before.

-" dummy" his strong voice calls, he remembered how you used to hate that nickname first, getting slowly used to it by the time. He still found it silly talking to a stone, but he saw Ran doing it, and Ran still looked like dealing with things better than himself, so he just took it from him, hoping it would help him as much as it did for his brother.

-" I saw ya again last night".

Ah, yes. There would be those cursed nights where he would dream of you, what a stereotype, yet it is logical when you think about it, sometimes when he falls asleep thinking about you, his subconscious finds nothing better to do than to torture him with memories or fantasies that never happened. Most of the time would it be those nights before he came to visit, which made sense since they would be talking about it with Ran.

He would not say he hated those dreams, or maybe he did, he could never tell. They were painful, annoying, still if it happened that you didn't wander in his sleep for too long, he would find himself grumbling about it.

In fact, he didn't hated the dreams themselves, rather hated waking up from them.

-" nothing new, you were jus' home, with us. I... I think at some point, I loved you back to life. Loved ya back t'me".

It is in these times where he would allow himself to let his guards down and take the time to acknowledge how badly scarred is his heart. When only Ran and you would be around.

His heart still suffered your loss, he woke up each morning feeling lost, and just pushed through his day, pushing those memories back in his head, and just sits between the black and white, the pain of your death and the memories of your life.

The dreams were cruel, a constant reminder that things could have been better, but will unfortunately never. And suddenly, he feels that time is moving too slowly, understanding that the whatever something he was waiting for would never happen, that he was even more lost than what he thought he was, with exhaustion seeping through his skin.

-" Then I wake up. Prolly high again, you would hate it, but let's be honest, it feels s'damn good 'cause it's like amnesia, makes me forget about all the stupid little things. "

Then he would finally come down from his high, and act like he was okay.

He learned to hide everything, to act as if he couldn't do any better. He would get through his day, do his job and laugh with his trio. He would party the whole night or feel the adrenaline of late night missions, and just pretend he didn't hated how his chest was full of hollow.

His eyes trailed to his brother's shape, from where he was standing and smoking his cigarette.

-" Ran says we'll be just fine. But I'm not fine at all." He scoffed, feeling frustration rising inside him again. It was always like this, he was always like this, he couldn't found why every emotion he struggled with was automatically assimilated to anger.

-" No I'm really not fine at all". He looked at the drop that had just wetted his wrist, and turned his gaze back to the sky. No, no it wasn't raining.

-" this has to be just another dream. You're fucking dead, why in hell what I feel for you is not ? Hm? "

There were many stages to grief, Rindou went through all of them without ever reaching the last final one, acceptance.

It all started with the denial, feeling shocked, numb and confused, avoiding to face the truth and letting himself be easily distracted by anything that could steal his attention from what was actually happening.

The one he never seemed to get over was the anger, though. It wasn't just rage and discomfort of not controlling anything, it was also the embarrassment of having done absolutely anything, the resentment. The more time passed by, the angrier he was against the world, the unknown one that did this to you, himself, and even against you.

-" Hate ya " a nervous laugh escaped his mouth, despite the burning sensation inside his chest, he kept a composed voice. " I hate ya with all the damn love I have f'ya".

Because him too, just like Ran, wished to tell you someday.

He even considered himself closer to you than what Ran was, and was fearless about confessing, making you his because he craved you all day long, but he never had the chance to, now he was only left with regrets.

-" bitch said it was jus' us three against the world, then just left it. You left-"

-" enough, ya losing your shit, Rin' ".

He gritted his teeth, frustrated that Ran cut him off, but he knew he was right, it was useless to keep letting his anger get the best of him. The truth was that he was just upset at himself for not being able to protect you, he couldn't help but wonder, what if you stayed inside that night ? What if they weren't so high and were actually able to walk you home ?

Then things would have been different, sure they would, nothing would have happened to you if he just stayed by your side.

He didn't truly blamed you, he just struggled with all the guilt and pain, with the thought that he could have made things better but would never have the chance to.

He thought Ran would find him pathetic, but against all odds he just patted his shoulder with one hand, while standing up next to Rindou's sitting form. The youngest brother refused to look up and meet his elder's eyes, they habitually never shared their thoughts and resentment about this, it was better to avoid any conversation about you, Ran managed to get a hold of himself without any help, he had to the same.

With a bitter taste in his mouth, he stood up and dusted off his pants and threw a last glance at the tombstone, holding back a cringe. Four years, still it was eerie to read your name on that stone, it just didn't look right, there were no mistake but he still couldn't comprehend what it was doing here, like it didn't belong to this place.

He welcomed the cigarette that his brother placed between his lips with a weary face and waited until he lit up this one.

" We'll be fine " he repeated, just as everytime they came here. He wasn't as naive as to think Rindou still swallowed his words, still he kept this routine more for himself than anyone else. And in exchange Rindou said nothing, accepted that Ran needed to have the upper hand and feel like he could control things, it kept him grounded to take care of him, even though he would never admit it.

Both silently walked out of the cemetery, eyeing from time to time the amount of people gathering somewhere for someone's funerals, hearing the mourners crying and sniffling. It had been a long time since crying affected them given the work they did, blood and death were their inevitable companions.

Once outside, they both climbed into Rindou's Bentley Mulsanne, Ran watched silently while this one were busy chosing the playlist, he never had a say in the matter when it came to music, and stared at his stern expression while he started the car, entering the main road and huffing in frustration at the traffic jams. The elder turned his head to the window, and tossed his cigarette before clearing his throat.

-" I think that's my last time coming here".

Silence. Ran's lavender eyes ventured toward the seat next to him, he caught the frown between his brother's brows and spoke again.

-" Enough of this shit. We should move on".

Rindou's hands gripped the steering wheel harder until his knuckles were pale, he couldn't believe those words came out from his mouth when he was the very one to insist on visiting so often.

" We should move on" he hated how he told it with such an ease, he never knew the words left his brother's mouth bitter.

If things were as easy as he made it sound, they wouldn't feel like this even after years, if moving on was an option, they would have. Yet it still haunted them like a nightmare, the biggest loss they experienced, did he really thought that stop visiting the graveyard would help with it?

-" easier said than done" Rindou scoffed, keeping his eyes on the road as he felt his brother's on him.

-" never said it was easy. But we can't keep being wrecks, this shit got the best of us, and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't want this for us. "

Though he was rather a stoic one, he didn't missed his micro reactions as the twitch of his eyebrows or his puffed chest.

And though he would never admit it, but Rindou was hurting, Ran's words felt like being stabbed in the back, from his closest one moreover.

He had his eyes narrowed on the road, mind in confusion. It was the first time he felt betrayal, and experienced the loneliness that came with it. Thinking that Ran might start moving on without him made him anxious and extremely frustrated, he didn't want to let go, he could never, but he also could never watch his brother overcoming the thing and be the only one left behind.

-" You have no idea what she would've wanted" he said through gritted teeth, the elder rolled his eyes, annoyed by the way Rindou always thought he was the only one suffering.

No one knew what took place behind closed doors, what Ran Haitani was behind his smiling mask, cognac glasses and random girls, ones that never seemed to be enough to fill the holes inside. He managed to hide it well during the day, but whether was he in an empty bed at night or sleeping with someone, your memory never left him, your face never faded. He had enough of his brother behaving as if your death impacted him the most.

-" why not ? She was my fucking person too, y'know it" He ran his hand on his hair, sighing from frustration and taking his eyes from his brother's shape who was still focused on the road. " I'd rather take a bullet to not feel this, she left us and took all the world with her, right ? That's how you feel, and I know it cause that's how I do too".

-" Don't... " He started, glaring at him, bulging veins on his forehead.

-" Feels like being flayed alive. Like you would rip up the whole world for daring to keep going without her, right ?" He insisted, watching Rin's ears reddening with anger. " Like she wasn't everything -"

-" and you wanna do the same !" His voice rose several octaves, he could feel his blood flowing faster from the outrage. Those words made no sense to him, Ran was just being hypocritical. He was talking about suffering from your absence and yet admitted that he wanted to move on. He was angry at the world for forgetting but he wanted to do the same, it was selfish but he hoped with all his heart that he would not succeed.

-" I never said I wanted to forget, I could not even if i wanted to " he scoffed bitterly, ignoring the way Rindou rolled his eyes. " But I can't pretend this is fine anymore. It's unhealthy, and miserable. Keep coming here won't bring her back."

If Rindou's throat tightened with a knot, Ran's one was burning like hell. Saying this out loud was a slap for both of them, though it was something obvious still letting go was a foreign fight that seemed scary, even the elder who was willing to still was reluctant toward it.

-" You said you'd never lemme down " he hid his helplessness by his cold demeanor and by avoiding his gaze, through his frustrated state, and even through the walls he built around his heart for so long, Ran still felt his chest tightening because of those words. him too, looked away and avoided to stare at him while answering.

-" Did I ever ?" He watched his reflexion through the half opened window, noticing his frown. " It's still us three against the world. I'd never quit hunting down the one who did this to our princess, we walked down this path for this after all".

He caught Rindou clenching his jaw just like everytime they would talk about that one man who stole everything from them, the only one who dared approaching what was theirs.

And he couldn't blame him, he has been in the same state though his rage was colder than his brother's one. Ran was more like an ocean that never settles, the calm before the storm and Rindou was the rage living within its center, his anger was eating him alive while the elder found a way to silence it and postpone it until that day, the one they would finally understand what happened.

-" What is it that the crackhead wants anyway?" Rindou ended up switching the subject, tired of the current one.

-" Said Mikey needed everyone, don't know no more " he shrugged, his brother hummed in silence and he took a turn that led them a few minutes later to the Bonten headquarters.

After parking the car, they entered the skyscraper and took the elevator to the second-to-last floor, to the meeting room. The soothing silence of the elevator was quickly replaced by the usual hubbub as they entered and saw their colleagues already seated around the large meeting table.

-" We almost waited " Takeomi grumbled from where he was sitting on a chair at the left side of the table, next to Kakucho.

-" You should know I don't give a fuck about that " Ran answered while getting to his usual seat next to Sanzu on the right side, just between him and Rindou who followed him silently.

As for the end of the table, it was occupied by Sano Manjiro who had his eyes glued to something on his laptop, ignoring his executive's conversations.

To Takeomi's left and in front of Rindou was sitting Mochizuki, and Koko was also working on his laptop at the other end of the table, sitting on the opposite of his boss.

-" Y'only do give a fuck when it comes to dead people anyway" Sanzu's words made almost everyone in the room go stiff, even their boss shifted his eyes from whatever he was working on to look at them. Him as well as everyone around knew how much of a faux pas it was to talk about it, Sanzu was a bastard to bring it up and by the way Ran's usual smile faltered and his eyes darkened and narrowed, everyone could easily say how mad he was.

-" Watch your fucking mouth" his tone was all but hostile, low and dangerous, Haruchiyo flashed a provoking smile and tilted his head to the side, earning death glares from both the brothers.

-" chill, I'm just saying this as Bonten's number two. It's inappropriate to make the boss wait for some dead chick ".

-" Still better than anyone alive" Rindou's firm voice cut like a knife, preventing his brother from going any further with Bonten's number two. He deserved anything that Ran would do to him, but not when Mikey was there, who knows how he would react and Ran's anger was more frightening than his brother's one, he had to admit.

-" in the meantime you're the one wasting our time Is you" Kakucho cleared his throat and replied to Sanzu who just rolled his eyes dramatically. " We didn't bring all of you here for that".

-" What is it about ?" Ran asked while his brother leaned against his seat, eyes venturing between Kokonoi and Manjiro who lifted both their eyes from their laptops.

-" This." Mikey's authoritative tone shut everyone down, he turned his computer so it faced everyone around the table and played the video on the screen, a journalist started talking right after in what it seemed like a crowded neighborhood, Rindou's eyes widened slightly when he recognized the place.

- " This morning the lifeless body of the famous entrepreneur Kaito Abe was found in his own house at around seven o'clock in the morning by his wife returning from a trip. Do you have any suspects Sergeant Kiba? "

The dark haired woman offered her microphone to the man with a police uniform, that one adjusted his hat before clearing his throat.

-" we still know nothing about the one who did this, Alaya. The primary investigation revealed nothing unusual, no signs of forced entry, the alarm was still active and the neighbors reported nothing suspicious. "

-" But we can tell for sure the one who did this is in fact the same one who killed mister Masashi Ogawa, isn't it ?"

-" We have no evidence to link the two crimes. "

-" what about both the videos my department received ?" Alaya asked, talking about the recordings her newspaper rushed to spread everywhere. " Both men appeared in a compromising situation with underage girls, did you start investigating about that ? Why haven't we heard anything from the girl that was found in mister Ogawa's room ? "

-" please excuse me, I am not allowed to talk about these cases "

-" Mister Kiba do you think the one who did this is trying to tell us something ? Mister Kiba ?"

But the sergeant was already leaving the camera's view, cutting through the crowd of journalists and civilians gathered in front of Kaito Abe's house.

-" it happened in our territory " concluded Rindou when the video stopped playing.

-" It is not a coincidence that two men of La Compagnie found themselves killed and exposed within such a short amount of time " added Ran, earning a significant glance from his brother to which he understood the meaning.

They learned about La Compagnie's existence only two years ago through their spy inside Hiroto Mori's political party, and if they had to be honest, the only thing they were satisfied about was that you never got to know your father's whereabouts. During your teenage years together, they always suspected your father to be more than just a politician, but it was only after the incident that they noticed how suspicious his acts were and started doubting his motivation to find his daughter's murderer.

It gave them a purpose for this dance of life, a purpose for this anger within , for the demons bleeding through their body and into their minds. They would have died to just torture Hiroto Mori's pathetic body slowly until they got the truth out of him, but they were only teenagers back then and needed someone greater behind them. One thing led to another, and they found themselves Bonten members, in exchange Sano Manjiro managed to turn one of his men into an informer inside that political system, and they ended up learning about the underground human trafficking organization your father created along with nine other influential men, well, seven now, since two of them were six feet under.

La compagnie has grown within the last years, extended to many other countries and established links all around the world. Their main goal was trapping young naive girls or kidnapping young tourists, changing their identities and creating fake identifications then selling them all around the world during auctions, or as for the one's who weren't bought by foreign men, forced to prostitution inside Hiroto Mori's gigantic Hotel.

Though Bonten was also implied in illegal activities such as prostitution, drug dealing and organized crime, they only hired consenting prostitutes and above anything else, of age, adult and legally responsible for their actions. They all loathed La compagnie, not only for this but also for competing with their business, on the other hand the brothers knew your heart would have shattered if you knew about it, you never really were close to your father still you had a strong sense of morality, things would have gone bad if you ever learned that.

For their great misfortune, they never seemed to reach the truth about you, or about what your father knew about that night. He accepted the totally improbable and non-credible suspect that the police arrested and did not inquire after that, which led them to suspect that he knew much more than he was saying.

-" I don't understand, why are we interested on this ?"

-" 'Cause it happened in our territory, Mochi. When two influential men get killed in an area dominated by our gang and we know nothing about, we can't just ignore it" replied a frustrated Kokonoi, rubbing his temple to soothe his headache. As if they weren't already busy enough with the decrease in their prostitution incomes, since apparently La compagnie stole most of the clients with their underage girls, they also had to deal with a new potential threat. He knew even more exhausting days were yet to come, and he had to figure out a way to catch up with the loss in incomes.

-" Isn't it something we should be happy about ?" Takeomi grunt. " Those assholes are in the way of our business".

-" for now, he seems to be only after La Compagnie's guys. But who says it's not some vigilante who wants to clean up the city ? Who says we're safe from any attempt ?" Kakucho argued with the man next to him who was busy lighting up his cigarette. The raven haired man growled when Sanzu leaned over the table to speak.

-" far be it from me to question your words, Boss" he started, earning a frown from the so-called Mikey. " But I don't think whoever did this could be a threat for us."

-" Those politicians are pretty average when it comes to fights " Ran agreed, rolling up his shirtsleeves. " There's no point in comparing or worrying".

After that, all eyes were on their boss sitting at the end of the table. The latter leaned back against his seat and intertwined his fingers, placing them against his chest, and looked back at his computer.

-" This, is not an angry murder" he acknowledged with austere tone. " This is pure malice. Have you learned nothing from me ? "

They all shut up. Looking at the blond man turning the computer towards them, two different images where represented the respective bodies of Masashi Ogawa and Kaito Abe, both stripped, bearing strangulation marks around the neck.

-" the execution-style-murder. The one who did this knew what he was doing".

-" leaving no trace each time " Kokonoi picked up. " Without being spotted either before or after".

At those words, Rindou leaned over the table and with the permission of his boss grabbed the laptop and started scrolling through the newspaper article, frowning a little more at every line he read.

-" they're goddamn right to be worried. Ogawa was killed inside his own crowded club, Abe inside his own house with both his children sleeping in their bedroom. And each time, no clue has been found, nothing."

-" the perfect crime." Concluded Kakucho, raising his eyebrows toward the others as a way to say " I told you so ".

Both Ran and Sanzu glanced at each other, while the others still proceeded the words. Well, maybe they were wrong to underestimate this murderer, his modus operandi was not violent, rather controlled and well calculated. The killer was not afraid of being caught in the act either, committing murders in such crowded places was not the work of any delinquent.

Each time, he exposed the truth of the men he killed to the entire world, and it happened to be influential man. It clearly was an act of rebellion.

-" That is mainly why I think we're dealing with a vigilante" the boss added as the others nodded in understanding.

-" is this why you wanted us here, boss ? " Ran questioned. " You want us to find the one who did this ?"

-" Let's say we did, are we gonna kill him ?"

Manjiro took the time to think about his subordinate's question. On the one hand, having a Zorro in their territory could be problematic, especially if he decided to meddle in their affairs, but on the other hand, this purge that he seemed to be leading against the members of Hiroto Mori's secret organization was working in their favor, eliminating their direct competitors without them having to do the dirty work. They sure could have dealt with La Compagnie for overshadowing their business but those ones had the whole Tokyo's police in their pocket, so many important people were involved into this and it would be a pain in the ass thing to deal with, even for Bonten.

He took another minute to ponder whether it would be wise to get involved into this vigilante's business, his dark eyes ventured toward Hajime who straightened his back as soon as his boss looked at him.

-" Koko, remind me what both their roles were within the organization."

Kokonoi cleared his throat " the first victim, Masashi Ogawa was the one in charge of the auctions and giving the girls fake ID. As for the second one, Abe manages a car and truck assembly line. His vehicles were used to transport the "merchandise" discreetly to the ports and ships where the auctions were held. "

-" not the top guys, still pretty useful ".

-" I don't get it" the elder of the Haitani's slapped his hands on the table, leaning over and earning everyone's attention. " If that vigilante wanted to ruin La Compagnie, why not attacking the leader ?"

-" guess it's not that easy to approach a man of such consequence " Sanzu shrugged, Ran hummed at his answer but they were all cut off by Rindou's edgy tone.

-" Fuck no, you don't get it, none of you. " He pushed the laptop back toward his boss and removed his gloves under everyone's curious eyes. " They are freezing La Compagnie. If they can't sell the girls worldwide anymore because of the lack of transport and fake IDs, their sales figures would drop considerably" he explained.

-" On the other hand, if they killed Hiroto" concluded Mikey, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.

-" His vice president would take over as if nothing happened" the youngest Haitani completed, things started getting clearer now for them. " Whoever is doing this is making sure La Compagnie would never rise again, that's fucking genius".

Silence fell on the room while they were all busy thinking about the words exchanged. The youngest Haitani was probably right, if he was not the strongest of the siblings, he was undoubtedly the most intelligent and calculating, he might even be the brain of Bonten after Koko of course. He was a logical thinker, and what he was saying actually made sense for everyone there, making them nod in understanding and making his boss raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth to talk.

-" In that case, I want you to find out who hides behind this shit".

All the executives turned their heads towards their boss, surprised by his decision, waiting for him to elaborate.

-" shall we get rid of the vigilante?" Sanzu was ready to start investigating for the identity of the latter, to launch a real manhunt if that was his king's will.

-" No. Not for now " the Sano's dry tone brought him out of his thoughts. "

-" The enemy of my enemy is my friend " Kokonoi stated in front of the executives questioning looks.

-" that's right. What he's doing now is unwillingly serving Bonten's pockets, let's just keep an eye on that man and see what his next move will be".

-" How are we even supposed to find him ? He's like a ghost " Ran grunt to which all of the men there agreed.

They all watched as their boss stood up from his seat, absolutely careless about their reluctance and started heading toward the door, quickly followed by Kokonoi and Kakucho.

-" I don't care how you do this. Hunt him down, turn the whole fucking town upside down, look for him in every single house and every shit hole if needed".

They were listening to their boss's orders without reluctance now, aware that a seething Manjiro Sano was the last thing they wanted to deal with.

-" I want his name on my desk by the end of the week".

[werewolfetone]

"this is like the twentieth (?) century equivalent of that story abt henry grattan and the corpses"

what on earth is the story about Grattan and the corpses

Sadly I don't have the book that I read it in on hand rn so I can't quote it verbatim but basically in the eighteenth century all Irish people wanting to go into law had to go to London for a time to gain some understanding of English law as part of their training, and there's a (possibly apocryphal?) story about how when famous Irish orator Henry Grattan was in London for this training he started going to watch debates in the British House of Commons a lot (⬅️ this part is definitely true) out of boredom and became so obsessed with wanting to be a politician rather than a lawyer that he started wandering around talking under his breath to "Mr Speaker" + pretending to address the house on then-current issues, which escalated to the point where someone eventually caught him giving a passionate speech about the subject of debate for that day to a group of corpses hanging from a gallows somewhere in London while pretending they were MPs. Certain later nineteenth century writers (Stephen Gwynne, WT Latimer, etc) latched on to the story as early proof of Grattan's natural success at oratory, which is why I said it's kind of like the much weirder 1700s version of seeing young Pearse with a gun and going "omg he was always described to be a rebel"

[an-otterly-adorable-being]

Wick x M!LocalPolitician!Reader

I'm back bitches/lh! And for my grand return, I did way too much research into St. Louis' city government. Look up the Board of Alderman, if you're curious. Anyways, hope y'all enjoy!

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• You're father was a decently wealthy man. Not old money level of money, but enough for him to afford a nice townhouse in St. Louis, specifically Lafayette Square.

• It was also enough money to earn him good will, and a few financing jobs for American politicians.

• With that money, comes amazing opportunities for a kid like you.

• Enter the 1904 World Fair and Olympic Games.

• You attended them both, and it lit a flame in you.

• You saw the wonder in the world, and you wanted to make sure people could find.

• Naturally, you wanted St. Louis to be the place to see that splendor.

• You became a lawyer at first, running a practice from a building, using the upstairs as your home.

• You had a pretty good thing going, with money coming in, most going back into the community, and a good reputation among the locals.

• But then you ended up finding out about some, not so great news.

• Turns out most of the city's were somewhat corrupt.

• Granted, the corruption isn't what you were upset with, it was with the fact that they weren't  helping the people.

• This simply wouldn't do in your eyes, and so you set out to win a local office.

• Eventually, you got your wish, and became the alderman for ward 8 of St. Louis.

• It was during this time you first met Mr. Sable.

• He was a fine young man, and you do mean fine.

• You didn't even know you had half of these feelings until you saw him!

• It started out simply enough, with you inviting him to business meetings and lunch.

• Eventually you started hanging out around town, as friends.

• Even later, and you ended up continuing the "business meetings" in his bedroom.

• (For my ace besties out there, or just those who aren't into it, y'all are just enjoying the privacy, and nothing more. Love y'all<3!)

• Wick also had a lot of confusing feelings as your relationship developed, but hey, you two figured it out together.

• It took a while for either of you to get things really going, relationship wise.

• And it still is difficult, with both of your jobs requiring so much time.

• Still, you try to spend as much time together as possible.

• Even if it is under the guise of reviewing his company's policies, or meeting to get "a better sense of how to help the people."

• That second one was at least somewhat true, though.

• Yeah, Wick probably wasn't the best person to be going to for the general public's opinion, but it did help.

• Especially when he introduced you to the Lackadaisy.

• It was a nice little place, even if you did first visit it at its decline.

• Wick would've brought you sooner, but you were a politician, and prohibition was in effect...

• Luckily, you never bought into the "alcohol is evil" thing, so you were more than happy to share a few drinks to loosen up.

• On top of that, the Lackadaisy gave you the opportunity to meet some of the actual citizens of St. Louis.

• Granted, there weren't many, as the place was already drying up, but it still gave you insight.

• Insight which, with a little bit of nudging, and financial backing, from Wick, let you make a difference, even if it was rather small.

• Now that terms are ending, though, and you aren't sure about your reelection, you have a nice little back up plan.

• And that plan is to be Wick's "advisor," which should give you more than enough time together.

[frostedlemonwriter]

Kitchen Adventures - Chapter 1

Mr. Moran’s old seafoam green pickup truck rumbled down the winding road that led through this old neighborhood. Past old but well-maintained houses with manicured lawns surrounded by trees on each side, the ancient heavy leaf-laden boughs hung over the road in a natural arch. Houses made of brick and wood were built during Acadia’s boom after the war when the fishing industry took off to help serve a hungry nation. Acadia wasn’t even a fraction of its former glory, but people remained. The pickup truck drove up to the intersection of St. Mary’s and Glenfiddich before it turned and disappeared in the evening mist.

A rough stone wall stained by the constant cold rain bordered a two-story home that housed an average family. Each window lit up from the inside with signs of movement and life. Oak-scented smoke rose from the chimney in an unbroken shaft into the clouds above, with a wrap-around porch covered by an awning held up by faux classical columns. High-backed wooden chairs painted white beside tables covered in empty bottles and wine glasses.

Two teenage women sat on the old stone wall with their hands clenched together. Ryan Byrnes ran her free hand through her dark brown hair and flipped to one side. A miniature cross dangled off the thin hoop through her earlobe; her thin lips painted an aubergine color with a silver stud piercing her bottom lip. While her girlfriend, the ginger-haired Kaytlin Amber, was clad in a denim jacket with various patches upon its surface. A messenger bag lay strapped around her torso.

“I hate these parties,” Ryan broke the silence.

Kat smirked while she brought her phone up to check her texts. Two from her mother and one from her father. In typical fashion, she rolled her eyes at the orders and summons to return home.

“At least your parents are normal,” Kat replied. “My parents throw dinner parties for political bullshit reasons with people they hate.”

“Your dad is a politician, babe.”

Kat waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, “I know. Still, everything is so fake.”

“He’s the fakest person I know,” Ryan kissed Kaytlin’s cheek. “You are the realist person I know.”

Kaytlin turned her head to give her girlfriend a soft kiss.

“I gotta head home,” Kat sighed.

With a sigh of her own, Ryan wanted to spend more time with her best friend and girlfriend. Still, there was plenty of time together once they graduated in just over a month. Kat’s father owned a condo in the city that he only used when he had to visit the city. As a graduation present to both young women, they will stay there through the next four years of college as long as they take care of it.

Kaytlin hopped off the wall while she gazed at Ryan for a moment. After a bit, Kat pulled out her camera from the messenger bag. After she fiddled with some settings, Kay kneeled in front of her girlfriend before urging her not to move. Ryan was used to it and loved being an impromptu model. Considering that a photo she was in helped Kaytlin get into Oregon State University’s photography program.

“My perfect muse,” Kat remarked before she leaned in to kiss Ryan. “I’ll text you. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Kaytlin waved before she walked over to the bike that she had had since they were in middle school. A depression in the grass from the bicycle corrected itself once Kat departed. Down the road where the town’s most expensive houses resided – the mayor, the DA, and various lawyers and doctors lived.

With a glance at the woman disappearing down the road, Ryan prepared to go back inside, where her parents and their friends were undoubtedly drunk. Another moment lingered before her stomach grumbled, which forced her hand as dinner called Ryan’s name. Her parents were always social with the neighbors, which meant a lot of food and alcohol. For Ryan, it meant she had to be social when all she wanted to do was watch her cooking shows; read her culinary books for the hundredth time; or even play a video game, which she did a bit more rare as Ryan got older.

While she made her way through the house with a bowl of chili, Mr. Henderson cooked and brought it over. Ryan went to her private sanctuary in the entire world – her bedroom. It was the smallest room in the home as her two older brothers got the bigger ones she preferred. Dozens of posters and photos cover her walls. Bands she had always loved dominated most of the walls, with the popstar Juju taking center stage. A twin-sized bed dominated the right side of the room with a shelf built into the wall above, which held books by famed chefs Niki Yoshimoto, Melissa Kim, and various others.

Upon a metal desk, her laptop opened with a green pipe screensaver that just caused various lights to play across the room. Purple and green lights strung around her room. Ryan's chef jacket hung off a hanger from the back of her open closet door. She turned on The Owl House on her laptop; this was her favorite of all time outside of culinary shows. Ryan locked the door after she finished her dinner and brushed her teeth. With her phone clutched in her hands, she curled up on her bed.

While Ryan was always an early riser, she decided to jog around the neighborhood to help let out some energy and work on her health. After working at Doc Henderson’s, a five-star Zagat restaurant catered to the elite of Acadia and its surrounding towns, Ryan discovered that stamina and fitness would make the intense professional kitchen a bit easier to handle. Ryan steeled herself for the long day ahead with her phone playing Tegan and Sara through her earbuds.

The school day was a drag since Kaytlin didn’t share many classes. They would see each other often until the lunch break, which allowed both of them to have jobs to save each cent for their move to the city. After a couple of hours spent hanging out, Kat would drop off Ryan before she took herself to work.

An old Victorian manor turned restaurant where the first doctor that lived in Acadia dwelled back when the town first formed. The back door led to a large dry storage room with a locker room off to the side. A space that smelt of the astringent chemicals that kept it clean. Several old metal lockers lined the wall. Ryan stuffed her backpack into the cubicle before she put on the whole chef’s outfit, including the jacket and pants, and made sure the black skull cap properly secured her hair.

“Miss Byrnes, good to see you,” Chef Joseph Woodward called out to the young lady as she entered the kitchen.

The Chef was an imposing man with broad shoulders, a well-trimmed graying beard, and a small American flag pinned to the chef jacket’s lapel. It was a sign that the man had cooked on the American Culinary team and was a certified Chef de Cuisine. Outside of Chef Ashly Willow, Ryan’s most revered chef, this man was the most influential in how she cooked. From dishwasher to prep to garde manger in less than a month, she had been on the most decorative and knife-heavy station for the past half year, which had improved her knife skills by leaps and bounds, along with plating.

“How are you, chef?” Ryan replied.

“Great,” Chef Joseph answered, “Can I have a moment of your time, please?”

Ryan nodded and followed the chef toward what used to be an old storeroom converted to a fully functional office. Photos of the owners and the chef with various great culinarians and chefs of the past and present.

“You aren’t in trouble. Please relax a little,” The chef said to Ryan.

Ryan’s shoulders softened as she sat down to listen to the chef. Who explained to her how well she had been doing and how quickly she had picked up the basics of knife work. Not to mention the design on the plates of the salads and desserts was quick and precise, and even Ryan would admit this is the part she enjoyed the most. She was making art on a blank plate canvas. Even if it was someone else’s design, Ryan learned something each time. The chef praised her but gave the young woman some more pointers on how to be more efficient in her movement. Before, he stated that Ryan would be working with Sous Chef Allison Daveys on the grill station tonight. One of the most prestigious and complex stations for it involved the precise cooking, cutting, and resting of proteins. Chef wanted her to work on each station for a week before going to culinary school. For her education, more than a need for help on the stations. The chef's goal was to expose the young woman to many other techniques before she left.

“I recognize the talent, potential, and natural understanding for cooking that you possess,” The chef wasn’t a man to give out compliments for no reason. “I think culinary school is the best thing for you. Just keep working on your skills. Find a part-time weekend job at a nice restaurant near the school. Join the ACF as a student.”

The chef liked to hear himself talk; however, Ryan made a mental note of his advice to write down later in the culinary notebook she kept in her backpack. The American Culinary Federation was already on the young woman’s radar, which solidified her wanting to join their student program. He explained more about what Ryan should do, tweak, or change, and after a bit, the chef sent Ryan off to work under the Sous Chef.

Ryan enjoyed the opportunity to work on the grill. To learn how to temp a piece of meat just by touch. To properly rest and cut a beautiful protein. It was a rather busy Monday night, but it wasn’t hard for the young woman to keep up with the demands of the guests. By the night's end, her steaks were perfect no matter what doneness the guest wanted. Her fish was properly cooked and not overdone. The chicken was juicy, not underdone, but not overdone. The young woman was proud of herself and even received praise from the cooks around here. Even the Sous Chef who was on the station with her seemed impressed.

By the time the restaurant was closed, Ryan was in the locker room, paying no heed to the other cooks around her who had changed into their street clothes. She wrote the advice the chef de cuisine gave her. The way to slice meat - against the grain! - written across the top of the page.

When her girlfriend called to tell Ryan to get her butt outside, Ryan was excited, still pumped from the night, that she got into Kat’s sedan and kissed her girlfriend. The young chef-to-be couldn’t help but go on about the evening, which Kaytlin found adorable. Despite her job at McDonald’s being awful. Kat was just happy for her girlfriend. Just like Ryan supported every step of Kat’s desire to be a photographer.

After a bit, Kaytlin stopped her car in front of Ryan’s home. They quickly kissed before Ryan made her way across the damp lawn. Once inside, she greeted her mother, ignored her brother's snide comment, and disappeared into her room. Ryan lay on her bed with a bit of a huff; when she closed her eyes, Ryan thought of her girlfriend, but her mind drifted to Portland. Kat would make waves in the photography world, while Ryan would open her food truck to help fund her future restaurants and catering business. It was a great idea, but Ryan knew it would be hard. A smile crossed her face because the idea she would be doing this with her best friend, girlfriend, and soulmate was such a great, awesome thing that many wouldn’t get.

The last few weeks in Acadia went by much quicker than anyone expected. Yet, the weekend before school started for both women, the young women packed up Kat’s car with both of their clothes, books, and anything they could fit, as they were thankful the furnished condo was an actual option. A dark and dreary day with heavy rain didn’t slow them down after a quick farewell to Ryan’s parents. Kat cranked the engine to life and looked at her girlfriend.

“Ready?” Kat asked.

There was a lot of weight to that singular word.

Ryan took her girlfriend’s hand for a moment, “Yes.”

Always Wit U by Juju played over the speakers after Ryan started her Spotify playlist. The two teens sang the lyrics together while Kat drove the car out of the neighborhood. One of the lovely sunny days to start their new lives together in the big city, at least it was a big city to them, and it couldn’t have been more perfect. Ryan’s left knee bounced as they rode on the highway. Kaytlin placed her hand on her girlfriend’s knee, which calmed both women as they got closer to their new home.

Portland was their favorite city as the place had a unique aura compared to Seattle or any of the major cities in California. There were tall buildings, yet no high rises like in Seattle. Plenty of trees and green areas, and once you enter the city, there’s a sign that welcomes you with the city’s unofficial motto - Keep Portland Weird. The young women truly loved the city because everyone seemed to be themselves without worry or the need to change. As if societal taboos didn’t exist here, though that was untrue, it is still great not to have to feel like changing themselves.

Kaytlin pulled off to the side close to the Willamette River, where several bridges spanned across the gentle elbow of the river’s bend. She knew her girlfriend well enough that Ryan didn’t say anything as Kat removed her camera. Despite having been best friends since elementary school and lovers since sophomore year. The sudden inspiration that Kat would receive always amazed Ryan as she would see something and knew it would make a great photo somehow. To work on pure creative intuition and instinct was something that Kat always had. Ryan didn’t know if she had such a thing despite what her former chef informed her some weeks ago.

“It’s beautiful,” Kat said.

Ryan looked over the river as the sun played off the water's surface. Without another word, she climbed back into the car. Kat pulled them into an underground car park with its code-activated gate and a fancy elevator.

After a long elevator ride, they carried their boxes and bags through the unremarkable hallway leading to their condo. Once Kat unlocked the door, they both had a key given to them by her father, but Kaytlin was always a bit of a gentleman, in a sense. Once inside, Ryan loved how minimalistic and modern the interior was.

“Dad paid a lot of money for some fancy-schmancy interior designer to make this place look good. Then his dumb ass never comes here,” Kat groaned, but the man had a lot of money.

Kaytlin always scoffed at the idea. Her parents had money, but Kat worked to save her own, not wanting a cent from either one, which was another thing Ryan admired about her girlfriend. The desire to truly become independent of her parents in every way. Kat was different than all the other rich, posh girls in school that Ryan knew.

Surprisingly it didn’t take them too long to unpack everything, which left Ryan some time to look down at Portland below. Like ants below her, people went about their daily lives. Cars drove through the streets that led to where they had to go, wherever that may be.

“Are you sure you don’t mind cooking tonight?” Kat whispered, arms wrapped around Ryan’s stomach.

“Don’t be silly,” Ryan replied. “I am 

They spent the weekend making their shared home their own with various posters, pictures, and the purple and green lights that Ryan had strung in her old bedroom. The future chef made every meal to practice her knife cuts and other techniques she had seen on YouTube or in the textbooks for her first semester. Kat proclaimed the food was excellent each time, and though Ryan thought it tasty, she knew it wasn’t as good as her girlfriend claimed. However, Ryan loved how much Kat supported her, as it pushed her to want to make great food every time.

“Let me take a picture of it,” Kat looked at the plate of food and glanced up at her girlfriend.

Ryan shook her head. Despite being pretty plates, Ryan felt her food wasn’t ready to be photographed. The young woman’s confidence did balloon a little as she couldn’t deny that they did look good.

Ryan kept her habit of jogging early in the morning, with Kat joining her sans camera. They would explore their area of the city with small boutiques, cafes, and bars. Not to mention the bus stops for Ryan and Kat. What stood out was the open-air market a few blocks from where they lived.

“Let’s stop a moment,” Ryan said, out of breath with her legs burning.

Kat nodded, “Yeah, babe. I need to catch my breath anyway. I am dying!”

Ryan glanced at her girlfriend, whose brow glistened in beads of sweat that glistened in the early morning sun. Her focus, however, switched to the sizable market that sat on the corner of a rather busy intersection. Despite the time of day, the market was a hub of activity. Workers filled their stalls with fresh produce, fish, and a few butchers with beautiful cuts of meats.

“Wow,” Ryan whispered to herself.

The young chef smelled produce and sampled everything she could as she and Kat talked with the vendors; this was one of the eye-opening moments of Ryan’s life as her palate acquired new flavors. Just like her old chef used to advise her to do every time the restaurant got fresh ingredients. The visit was great despite Kaytlin lamenting that she should have brought her camera. It made Ryan desire to create fantastic, award-winning food from those who cared about the quality of their produce, beef, fish, or what-have-you, even higher than before.

The weekend ended after a dinner of flank steak, shiitake mushrooms, and fingerling potatoes, all ingredients Ryan found at the open-air market. The two women sat down to watch a movie, snuggling against one another as the weekend drew close. With both of their classes starting on Monday, they made sure both of their backpacks were ready to go.

Kaytlin quickly fell asleep, but Ryan couldn’t catch more than an hour of sleep at any time. Like a ship lost at sea, she tossed and turned beside her girlfriend, who slept through it all. Ryan couldn’t even explain why she was so nervous about tomorrow as she stared at the ceiling. Not like tomorrow was an important test or exam, but it felt like the first step in the long journey of her life. After some time, Ryan fell asleep for a few solid hours before getting up for her morning jog.

Ryan’s nerves improved as the jog ended, and she sat down, freshly scrubbed from her shower, dressed in her chef’s outfit for class. Ryan sipped on her coffee with still over an hour before her first class began. The young woman knew which building and room her classes would reside in as all the culinary courses were in the same place. Kat was going to drive them both today since her class was later in the day, so there was no need for the bus today. Tomorrow would be different with the early morning baking class and the ServSafe sanitary course.

The campus was large, with well-manicured green lawns that separated several large brick-faced buildings. Large groups of students traveled between the parking lot and their classes. A decent amount of them dressed in the same uniform as Ryan.

“You got this, babe,” Kat assured as she stopped close to Ryan’s building.

After a quick kiss, Ryan smiled and thanked her girlfriend for the support. Then she stepped out into the cool, windy morning. The most significant first step on the journey of becoming one of the chefs she had admired her whole life. A few students like her outside the giant production kitchen made small talk as they waited for the introductory class to begin. Ryan paid most of them no attention as she watched the older students in the kitchen. They made soups and stocks in one part while several students chopped, sliced, and minced vegetables under the watchful gaze of a chef. In a separate part of the kitchen, students made candies with what appeared to be molten sugar. Another had students pulling loaves of bread from an actual wood-fired brick oven. An excellent, wonderful, glorious place in Ryan’s mind, and she couldn’t wait to get started with it all, especially as these students she watched were starting new classes in their second, third, and fourth semesters and already knew something.

“My name is Sally, and this is Joesph,” A young blonde-haired woman gestured toward her apparent twin brother.

Ryan snapped out of her mind and looked at two dressed the same as herself with their university-issued knife bags and backpacks.

“Oh, sorry, I’m Ryan. It is a pleasure to meet you both,” She cocked an eyebrow, “Twins?”

Joseph nodded his head and pushed his thick hipster-like black-rimmed glasses up his nose.

“Sally is three minutes older.

“And I always remind him of it,” The woman added.

Before the twins could continue, an older woman in a chef’s jacket with a briefcase, a backpack, and a knife roll arrived to herd the students into one of the many classrooms set off the production kitchen. The broad-shouldered woman’s voice was low and husky, which commanded the attention of all who heard her. She introduced herself as Chef Melissa and explained her history of working with some of the best chefs in the country. Then the chef spent most of the time describing what to expect this semester from the classes since the first semester was the same for every culinary student. After that, everyone had to introduce themselves to their classmates, and Ryan hated this part yet participated when it was time.

With false confidence, Ryan stood up, “My name is Ryan Byrnes. I’m from just up the road a bit in Acadia. I’m a double major student in culinary and baking. I want to open a food truck and run a restaurant one day. My favorite chef is Ashly Willow. Would love to meet her one day.”

Ryan had to will herself to shut up and sit down, and it felt like everyone judged her, despite no one outside of the twins thinking twice about it. As the chef-professor ended the hours-long class, she led the students through the kitchen, including the bakery, candy shop, ice carving room, and even the restaurant open daily. Then after the chef proclaimed that Wednesday would be a lecture followed by time in the kitchen, she wished everyone a good rest for the beginner's baking course started before the sun rose above the horizon since their baked goods are what the cafeteria and restaurant sell throughout the day.

Well into mid-afternoon, Ryan said goodbye to her classmates once the class was over. Who was quick to trade numbers with each other, but then it was off to the bus for the young woman. She was thankful it didn’t take long to get to the condo, and Ryan was in the apartment alone for the first time. When she went through the culinary textbook, she found a bolognese recipe that Ryan had tried before. Dinner was decided for tonight, and Ryan was determined to have her first photo-worthy dish.

And assuredly, Kaytlin would love to take the photo.

[yr-obedt-cicero]

Rank the hamkids in order of best option for the US Presidency to least!

Honestly, it would be either James or Alex Jr. In terms of agreeable politics, I tend to lean towards Alex more. But in all likelihood, James would have been the closest to ever becoming president — as he was the one to get the highest in power compared to the rest of his siblings, which was his position as acting-Secretary-of-State. Although James's politics is just yikes-worthy, and he was a super loyal Jacksonian (How disappointed Hamilton would have been). Although later in life he wasn't too terrible.

After them, John stands higher than William. William spent a very minor amount of his life actually dedicated to politics, and failed an election; so I don't see him even wanting to be president, let alone a good one. He preferred his private wilderness life much more, and he was too anti-aristocrat to actually even get a decent following or voted. And still, John also didn't seem interested in presidency, but he was a very politically-active man and seemed to support Van Buren.

And last on the list is Phil II, because Phil was much more interested in law and his work as an attorney and judge to even really participate in politics. He seemed similar to William, and just preferred living a more quiet life.

Side note though, because this doesn't really count but it's for a piece of mind; I'm pretty sure Philip, the first, would have at least tried. He was already getting involved into politics at a young age, and with all his education and tutoring there is no doubt he would have become a successful politician besides being a lawyer. Especially when his whole life was dedicated and purposed to carrying on Hamilton's legacy. That is to assume he wouldn't have become a despised and mouthy figure like his father though. It's all up to interpretation since he died so young, and I wouldn't include this as part of the list just because considering how much his brother's politics were a shit-show, there isn't any reason to assume his wouldn't be either. So it's unclear to determine how successful he would be in this subject.

With all that being said; Eliza Hamilton Holly for president.

[msclaritea]

How the trans activists fooled Ireland - UnHerd

Ireland is the trans activists’s trump card. Whenever debate flares up about self-identification or the Gender Recognition Act or transgender rights, campaigners can say “There has never been any trouble in Ireland.” And governments believe them.

The Irish “success story” has been trotted out and swallowed down whole. Ireland was an early adopter of “self-ID”: since 2015 the state has allowed individuals to change their “gender” — their legal sex, effectively — just because they want to. There are no background checks and no medical reports.

Let’s be clear, that is an affront to safeguarding. But that has not stopped activists claiming Ireland to be an example of “international best practice”, and framing it as a great model for Westminster and Holyrood. But while politicians may still be lapping up whatever activists tell them, recent polling suggests that the Irish public is not convinced.

It does not take a legal expert to see the dangers. If biological males can access women’s single-sex spaces including hospital wards and prisons simply by making a statutory declaration, it was only a matter of time before there was an outrage. In fact, there have been at least two in one prison.

Barbie Kardashian is a troubled teenager who was “born a male but identifies as female”, and has a history of particularly nasty physical and sexual violence towards women. Having previously torn the eyelids from a female care worker, Kardashian was jailed last year in the women’s wing of Limerick prison following threats of violence against two individuals. According to the court report, Kardashian was “very anxious she be detained in a prison facility for females, as she identifies as a female”.

Already there was a “pre-operative, pre-hormone therapy”, male-to-female transgender prisoner who had been convicted of ten counts of sexual assault and one count of cruelty against a child.

Whatever Irish politicians had been thinking when they waved through the 2015 Gender Recognition Act, there had not been any proper public debate to inform the new legislation. But that is not surprising; the law was changed swiftly and quietly, just the way the activists like it.

“Nobody spoke about the GRA,” says the Irish writer Stella O’Malley. It wasn’t even mentioned in the media: “We were all about the gay marriage referendum and the GRA just didn’t come up. I’ve always been interested in trans issues and I would have noticed if it had.”

This strategy is straight from an activists’ handbook, or to be precise the “Denton’s Document”. This guidance – officially titled, Only adults? Good practices in legal gender recognition for youth – was published two years ago. Backed by an unlikely triumvirate of Dentons (the world’s largest law firm by number of lawyers), Thomson Reuters Foundation and IGLYO – the International Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer and Intersex Youth & Student Organisation – it was an instruction manual for lobbying groups who wanted to extend gender recognition to young people with or without their parents’ permission.

The tactics are detailed in full within the handbook, including the instruction to “avoid excessive press coverage and exposure.” And specific reference was made to Ireland where, “activists have directly lobbied individual politicians and tried to keep press coverage to a minimum.”

O’Malley was right: the events of 2015 had been carefully managed.

“In Ireland, Denmark and Norway, changes to the law on legal gender recognition were put through at the same time as other more popular reforms such as marriage equality legislation. This provided a veil of protection, particularly in Ireland, where marriage equality was strongly supported, but gender identity remained a more difficult issue to win public support for.”

It’s only now, six years on from the Irish Gender Recognition Act, that the public has been consulted. Not by the government, even now, but by The Countess, an Irish campaign to restore the privacy, dignity and safety of women and children in schools, workplaces, sport, changing rooms, toilets, hospitals, prisons and refuges. Opinion polling carried out for them by Red C – found that respondents were not impressed.

Only 17% agreed with the 2015 law that allows someone to change their birth certificate as soon as they self-identify as the opposite sex. Rather more (34%) thought it should be permitted once a trans person has partially or fully transitioned through hormone treatment and/or genital surgery. But 28% felt that individuals should not be allowed to change the sex on their birth certificates at all.

Even younger people (aged 18-34) favoured no changes to birth certificates, as opposed to the laissez-faire approach that was pushed through parliament. Overall, men were more cautious than women — perhaps because they better understand what men can be like.

Birth certificates are the last line of defence for service providers trying to maintain single-sex provision for women. If these can be changed on demand, then the safeguards become worthless. We can probably safely assume that few men would ever seek a Gender Recognition Certificate but mixed in with those suffering from gender dysphoria — a diagnosable medical condition — would be those who women need to worry about most. There’s little point of locking a door if a potential abuser can cut his own key.

As the polls show, while Irish politicians were captured by the transgender activist lobbying, the Irish public understands the dangers. When asked about transgender people who had not been through gender reassignment surgery, more people than not opposed their inclusion in changing rooms, sports, refuges and prisons. Clearly, the naïve government policy that led to the outrage in Limerick women’s prison is not supported by the electorate.

Laoise Uí Aodha de Brún, founder of The Countess said, “This is the first time the public has been given a say on gender self-identification. When the government passed the Gender Recognition Act in 2015 it did so with little thought of the effect it would have on the wider community, let alone consultation with groups that would be most affected, particularly women.”

This does not mean that The Countess and the Irish public are transphobic. Rather they are pro-science, and supportive of the rights of women to defend their own boundaries. As a transgender person myself, I know transphobia when I see it and this is not it. It is not hateful to make factual claims such as “transwomen are not female and therefore not women”, nor is it transphobic to apply safeguarding procedures appropriate to an individual’s biological sex. That is necessary to protect everyone’s welfare. Accusations of transphobia are thrown around far too easily and they deflect attention from genuine hate.

Unfortunately, though, the Irish self-identification “success story” has been misrepresented and disseminated by activists who are desperate to extend it far and wide. On this side of the Irish sea, the Westminster government has, to their credit, thrown out self-identification, despite the howls of protest from some quarters — but gender recognition is a devolved matter. North of the border, Nicola Sturgeon’s SNP government seems determined to make the same mistakes as the Irish one, despite the furore surrounding the debate. Scotland has already cited alignment with “international best practice” as a rationale for introducing self-identification, using Ireland as an example.

All these leaders have been hoodwinked by a narrow group of self-interested activists who have seized the agenda and are loath to let go. I’m a teacher and my pupils are taught to think critically. Some of our politicians need to learn a similar lesson. Instead of following blindly, then need to start asking themselves some hard questions. I suggest they kick off with “Who told us that self-ID was international best practice and why did we believe them?” Because this polling suggests that their electorates would like some answers.

[purplesong1028]

Of Men and Games

Chapter 5: Storm

Pacho lets out a sigh. He tells himself it’s simply out of frustration and annoyance, so he can ignore the subtle tightness in his chest. “What are you asking, Fernando?”

“I want to know if I got a man killed.”

Rating: Mature

Paring: Pacho/Male OC

Words: 2,945

The room is dim and the bed is soft, scented candles burning on the nightstand, right next to the half finished champagne bottle. Pacho sighs contentedly, buries himself deeper inside the beautiful body. The sex is great, phenomenal, but it’s more than the sheer physical pleasure. There’s something incredibly addictive to have the perfect young governor pinned under him, consumed for his own pleasure. Pacho picks up the pace and smashes their lips together, swallowing Fernando’s blissful moans. This is only their second time together, but it already feels comfortable and familiar, like they’ve been lovers for a long time. He grunts and gives it a few final thrusts, pushing them over the edge. The overwhelming pleasure takes over his body in a glorious blast of cathartic sensations.

*

They lay side by side catching their breath. The candlelight shines on Fernando’s naked chest, painting it with a shade of golden glow. Pacho reaches over to put his palm there, feeling the elevated heartbeat under smooth, moist skin.

Fernando exhales with a smile, and turns to meet his gaze. “Shit, that was good.”

“Were you expecting otherwise?”

“No, not with you.”

At that exact moment, in the state of complete relaxation, without thinking, Pacho almost asks “so who disappointed you?” But he catches himself before the words could come out. It would be strange to ask about other people they sleep with.

He sits up and grabs his box of cigarettes from the nightstand. The lighter is a little further away and he doesn’t want to move, so he just lights a cigarette on the candle.

“So? What’s on your mind?”

Fernando shrugs, eyeing him up and down. “Right now? Not much.”

“Well, I suppose you didn’t come just for this.”

“Why? Would that be unreasonable?”

Pacho smiles with the cigarette between his lips. Usually he’s not a fan of speaking in circles. He’s perfectly capable of doing it for business reasons, but has never taken pleasure from it. However, this isn’t some convoluted mind game. It’s just their style of bantering, and a little harmless back and forth can be fun.

“It’s reasonable, but unlike you.”

“Fair enough.” Fernando snatches the cigarette from him to take a puff himself, and Pacho realizes this is the first time he’s seen the young governor do that.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t usually, but I know how to.” Fernando gives the cigarette back. He waves it off, thinking he’ll just get another one, but Fernando reaches over and naughtily sticks it back in his mouth.

Part of him is truly a little shocked by the audacity, but mostly he can’t suppress a big smile from the playfulness.

“Alright, enough.” He gives Fernando a light push, just enough force to get him back to the other half of the bed. “What are you doing here, besides this?”

Fernando remains silent for several seconds, a layer of seriousness finally clouding his dark brown eyes, and then he sighs, and pulls the blanket up to his waist. “I’m just thinking a lot about what’s been happening recently.”

“About Escobar? He really spooked you at that party, huh?” Pacho laughs a little, finding it amusing how easily this cunning, intelligent politician can be bothered by something no more than a regular Tuesday for himself.

“It’s not just that.” Fernando quickly denies it, and it doesn’t look like a lie to protect the ego. “I’ve been paying attention, ok? And I do my own research. They tried to keep it out of the news, but the lawyer and the judge who worked on his case years ago are both now dead, just when the election is coming to an end.”

“You’re not wrong.” He inhales deeply, and then slowly blows out the smoke. “But why are you worried? You didn’t work on his case, and you aren’t running against him.”

Fernando gives him an observing stare. “Why are you not worried?”

He scoffs, stubbing the cigarette out. “Do you think I would be here right now if I were scared of Escobar?”

“That’s not what I mean. How are you suddenly so okay with it? You were the one who asked me to look for information, and now you just…”

Pacho turns to directly face the young governor. He doesn’t feel offended but maybe something changed in his eyes, because Fernando stops talking promptly. He nods, urging him to go on.

“Now you just seem like you don’t care what happens when he becomes a senator.”

Pacho studies the younger man’s face, the slightly furrowed brows and the tight jawline, all serious yet still so handsome. Everyone is complicated, especially if they’re smart, but nevertheless, Fernando’s dichotomy never ceases to amaze him. On one hand, there’s this promising politician who schemes and lies, hiding his true ambitions behind a charming, harmless act. On the other hand, in rare moments of vulnerability, glimpses of real naivety stir under the surface, barely noticeable, but clear as day to him. Maybe that’s why Fernando’s pretense always works so well. Because it’s never fully a lie, and the most believable lies always have elements of truth in it.

“What would you do then, hmm?” He brushes a lock of hair away from Fernando’s forehead, indulging themselves in this thought game. “Tell me, if you were me, and you’re so concerned, what would you be doing right now?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been you.” Fernando doesn’t lean into the touch, still immersed in his thoughts. “But he’s a threat, a lot more so to you than to me, at least at the moment. I would imagine you guys are working on some way to eliminate it.”

“Eliminate it,” he chuckles at the choice of words, “and I thought I was the criminal.”

“No, that’s not…” Fernando laughs out too, “well, I guess that word means very different things for us.”

“Does it though?” Pacho leans closer, which is an intimate gesture in their current state, but intimacy can turn into danger in an instant. Both of them know it. “Does it mean something different for you in this case?”

Fernando meets his gaze and holds it, doesn’t shift away from him but doesn’t move closer either. For a moment, it doesn’t feel like they’re both naked in the same bed, but sitting across from each other at a negotiation table.

“I don’t know enough to speak on that. That’s why I’m asking you.” Eventually Fernando says, safe and honest, a flawless, pointless statement made by a politician.

*

They face each other in silence for a while, their faces inches away as their breathing gets hotter, more elevated. Pacho feels his eyes slowly travel down to the pair of red lips. He could kiss them again right now, a perfect way to make use of all the tension.

He slowly backs away to his own side of bed. “Not all threats can be eliminated immediately, querido, whatever ‘eliminated’ means to you.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“I know you are, but you have this idea that…” Pacho thinks about what it must have been like for someone like Fernando, to always have exactly what he needs to achieve what he wants, to be able to take action and immediately see results. “There are always clear steps to take, a detailed plan to be made and carried out, and it will just work.”

Fernando shrugs, “is that not the case?”

“It is when you’re doing the right thing.” He rolls off the bed and picks up a bathrobe from the armchair, smirking at the burning gaze on his back. “When you’re doing bad things, sometimes the best course of action is waiting for the other person to fuck up first.”

“So that’s it? Waiting for Escobar to make a mistake on his own?” Fernando also gets out of the warm bed, looking for his underwear among pieces of soothing scattered around the carpet. “I don’t know. He seems to be pretty good at covering up for himself, you know, the dead judges and all.”

“So far he is.” Pacho pours two glasses of whiskey. “We’ve been having this back and forth with him for years. The more success he has, the more reckless he becomes, the more bullshit lies he needs to make up.”

He offers a glass to Fernando, who’s now buttoning up his white shirt. “And Escobar has never been a great liar. Just think about what happens when he’s surrounded by people like you.”

“Alright, I see where this is going.” Fernando takes the drink from his hand. “You guys want to just sit tight and watch him get burned in a game he doesn’t know how to play.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he takes a small sip, “and there are many ways to make his old game more difficult for him, at the same time.”

“Do I want to know the details?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Fair enough.” Fernando lifts his eyebrows and puts down the whiskey. “I have to say, you never seemed like such a patient man to me. I’m surprised.”

“I didn’t say I enjoyed it, but it’s necessary.”

*

Fernando picks up his suit jacket from the floor and carefully places it on the back of the couch. “Actually, there is something else that I want to talk to you about.”

“I figured.” Pacho sits down on the couch. “It’d be uncharacteristic of you to just come questioning our strategy against Escobar.”

“Please, I wasn’t questioning you.” Fernando laughs it off, although they both know that was exactly what he was doing. “This is about another senator-to-be, someone from here.”

Pacho thinks about the candidates that he knows. He can come up with several names, but can’t seem to remember what they look like or where they stand politically. Gilberto had always been the one who’s closer to all that stuff.

“Diego Garcia.” Fernando takes out a folder and hands it to him, the exact same plain folder as the one he gave him weeks ago, with Carlos Vasquez’s information. “Maybe you don’t know him, but you’ve definitely heard of him. He isn’t exactly the quiet type.”

Pacho opens the folder, and yes, the picture definitely rings a bell. He’s seen this guy on tv or newspapers, maybe both, but every other candidate has been overshadowed by Escobar recently, so he hasn’t been paying much attention.

“And how exactly did he piss you off?” Pacho teases. “By being too loud?”

“God, I wish.” Fernando rolls his eyes, “he’s the type of person who hates everyone and everything, and gained his popularity by appealing to people who also hate everything! I’ve always thought he’s better off hanging out with the guerillas.”

Pacho can’t help but smile at the vivid description. “Then what’s the problem if he hates everyone equally?”

“I’m a bigger target than almost everyone else. That’s the problem. He hasn't been speaking kindly of me or anyone else since his campaign.” Fernando picks the glass of whiskey back up, gently shakes it. “I’ve tried to smooth things over but nothing works with him. Now he’s going to be a senator, and the last thing I need is to have this fucking guy trash me in front of the entire congress.”

Pacho closes the folder. “I assume this is where you are going to ask that favor from me.”

“It is.” Fernando admits, but then he seems to realize something, and hurries to add more explanation. “I don’t need you to…eliminate him. I just want your help to get more information, private information.”

“What kind of private information?”

“I don’t know, but no one’s perfect, so there has to be something I could use. They don’t call you guys Cali KGB for no reason, right?”

He puts the folder aside and leans in. There’s something extremely alluring about such constraints, a moral system that dictates where the line is, to decide which sins are acceptable and which ones are not. It’s like a cracked mirror, inviting him to break it down completely. “I can get you the info if that’s what you want, but I don’t mind offering you another solution, an easier one.”

For a second, he sees the crack become deeper in Fernando’s eyes as the pupils enlarge, maybe out of shock or fear, but maybe due to something else, something much darker.

“Information will suffice for now.”

“As you wish.” Pacho offers a comforting smile. He isn’t particularly disappointed or surprised. He knows the other man isn’t ready to go down that path yet, but what’s important is to plant the idea now, to prepare him from a very likely possibility. “It’s your favor to ask.”

“Thank you, I’ll wait for your call.” Fernando slowly exhales, and then looks at the watch. “I should get going.”

“Be careful recently, try to upgrade your security.” Pacho watches him putting his jacket back on. “Things are going to start moving a lot faster.”

“I know.” Fernando says as he walks towards the door, but then he turns back when his hand is already on the door handle. “You know what’s funny though? Eduardo Sandoval warned me about the exact same thing.”

*

Turns out he and Eduardo Sandoval are both right. Even that thought alone sounds funny in his ears. To put it simply, Lara kicked Escobar’s ass on his very first Congress meeting. Pacho watched it on the news with Gilberto and Miguel. Later that day, Fernando called him too, all excited and cheerful, offering him a lot more juicy details from the inside.

Long story short, Escobar’s political dream was over as soon as it started, but the story doesn’t end there, far from it.

On the topic of Diego Garcia, Jorge did manage to find some scandalous things, but nothing crazy, just the regular stuff with women and drugs, their drugs. Fucking whores and snorting powder don’t sound great for a new senator, but they aren’t necessarily career ending. He sent all the information to Fernando. How the young governor wants to use it is none of his business. What concerns him more is how Garcia seems to find a new political alliance in Lara, joining in on the efforts to condemn narcos, which is fucking ironic since the man literally snorts what they sell.

Pacho is not an expert on politics, but he doesn’t need to be to understand what’s going on. Men like Garcia will jump on the hottest train regardless where the train’s going: if people are angry, he would use their anger for his own benefit; if Escobar ended up taking power instead, he would have no problem opposing extradition.

A few weeks later, Lara’s car gets shot up, days before he’s arranged to leave the country. It’s sad news for a lot of people, but not for Pacho. In fact, it’s barely even news. He knew it was going to happen, and he knew Lara would not be the only victim.

He receives the phone call another week later, on a rainy night. For a minute or so, no sound comes from the other side besides the faint background noise of the storm.

“I just came back from the funeral.” Fernando says eventually. His voice sounds deep and strained, blurred out as a crack of thunder breaks out.

“My condolences.”

“Was it Escobar?”

“It would make sense,” Pacho lights a cigarette, “Garcia wasn’t subtle with his support for Lara.”

“But it’s a little strange, don’t you think? It didn’t happen in Madellín or Bogotá. He was hunting in the mountains, and he was…” There’s a pause, and then a shaky breath. “Someone shot him in the head from behind.”

Pacho lets out a sigh. He tells himself it’s simply out of frustration and annoyance, so he can ignore the subtle tightness in his chest. “What are you asking, Fernando?”

“I want to know if I got a man killed.”

“No.” He answers firmly, and it’s the truth, but part of him feels ridiculous that he’s even attempting to offer any kind of comfort. “He made the decision, and he should know the risks. This has nothing to do with you.”

There’s no response, and even the sound of breathing is barely audible. He considers just hanging up, but he decides not to. If anything, maybe Fernando will hang up first.

“I met his family, you know? He has a son, an eight year old.” Fernando speaks again, just when Pacho expects the call to disconnect. “He was holding a toy car at the funeral, the last birthday present from his dad.”

“He should be safe. There’s no reason to touch a child who has nothing to do with it.” He stubs the cigarette out and runs a hand down his face. Seriously, what does Fernando expect to get out of this conversation? “Think about the bright side. Now he’s no longer a problem for you, right?”

Fernando lets out a short laugh. It sounds like a laugh for sure, but feels like a sob. Then there’s more silence, but this time he knows the conversation isn’t over.

“Are you doing anything now?”

Pacho looks outside of the window, and then at the clock. “I don’t think this is a great time to meet.”

“No, I’m not trying to meet.” Fernando takes a heavy deep breath, like he’s making up his mind for a grand decision. “Just stay on for a while?”

Pacho feels his eyes widen at the strange request. He can’t think of any possible explanation for this, but he also doesn’t plan to ask.

After all, it takes no effort by just being there, in the midst of a storm.

Tag List: @ashlingiswriting @yourlocalspacewitxch @mandaloria314 @drabbles-mc @narcolini @cherixrosa @cositapreciosa @cositapreciosa @dashavau @alreadywritten @smoke-n-fiire @artemiseamoon @sikkui (Let me know if you want to be added or taken off the tag list of this story)

[memestockpile]

the magnificent ambersons (1942) feel free to change as needed.

in those days, they had time for everything.

she’s kind of a delightful looking young lady.

well, what do you know?

i guess you think you own this town. 

why don’t you pick on someone your own size?

you ought to be ashamed.

shut up about my mother.

that’s not what we’re talking about.

you must promise me never to use those bad words again.

from now on, you’re going to see a lot of me, i hope.

i don’t care much for that sort of thing. 

who sent you those flowers you keep making such a fuss over?

are you enjoying the party?

when times are gone, they’re old, they’re dead. there aren’t any times but new times. 

what are you studying at school?

lawyers, bankers, politicians: what they ever get out of life, i’d like to know. what do they know about real things?

i think it’s ever so interesting. 

most girls at sixteen are pretty bad dancers. 

think you’ll be warm enough?

do you think [name] is terribly arrogant and domineering?

dear, have you had trouble sleeping?

you little silly. 

i’ll be in to say goodnight. 

what in the world is the matter with you?

you just march straight on up into your room.

sometimes you say things that show you have a pretty mean little mind. 

you attend to your own affairs. 

don’t make a fuss. 

sometimes one doesn’t realize the shock. 

you’ll have to sit on my lap, there’s not room enough. 

you’re a divinely ridiculous woman. 

how about that kiss?

don’t eat so fast. 

want some more milk?

you certainly know how to make things taste good. 

we were only teasing. 

you ought to come here every time you get the blues. 

did you ever see anything so lovely?

everything is so unsettled. 

you are a puzzle. 

you’re always picking on me. 

how did you get ahold of that? you answer me. 

don’t be so theatrical. 

you shall have happiness and only happiness.

i want to talk to you. 

i don’t expect to have a particularly nice time. 

it’s quite a shock to find out just how deeply you care. 

i think it’s goodbye for good. 

you’re going to get well again. 

darling, did you get something to eat?

are you sure you didn’t catch cold? 

life and money both behave like loose quicksilver.

i had too much unpleasant excitement, i don’t want anymore. 

i don’t want anything but you. 

it’s not doing either of us any good going on arguing this way. 

you certainly are the most practical young man i ever met. 

i wouldn’t tell this to anybody but you. 

[randomleafoflove]

Modern AU (which I still hate), where Wen Kexing was lost in the foster care system after his parents’ deaths. (They left behind a lot of money, and Kexing’s disappearance was mostly a comedy of errors, with the family lawyers just hours late each time. Like everyone knows Kexing is alive and heir to a fortune, therefore he can’t be declared dead and the next in line (Zhao Jing, Gu Miaomiao’s second cousin, or something) to inherit can’t get their hands on the money, but good luck finding him.)

Then when he finally makes it out of the system at eighteen (with the eight-year-old A-Xiang hanging onto him like a limpet), he fucking goes to war against the system, and becomes an activist/politician.

The actual story starts with an election coming up, and Kexing meets the recently resigned former security consultant of Helian Yi, Zhou Zishu.

Zhou Zishu, of course, had his privileged upbringing, but it all went down in literal flames. He’d graduated high school early, and was already in college when it happened, but he still ended up with student loans for his last two years of college. In exchange for his cousin Helian Yi to take care of them (the loans, and Jiuxiao), Zishu pledged his undying loyalty, or what have you. Never mind going to the official army, Helian Yi had him trained by the best (assassins/spies/retired soldiers, etc. Beiyuan was one of them). When he’s ready, Zishu started spying on Helian Yi’s political opponents, and managing smear campaigns. The last nail that broke the camel’s back for Zishu, was when he had to set up Jiuxiao as having been raped by some politician’s daughter (princess Jing’an). He resigned after Jiuxiao screamed at him to never contact him again, moved and changed his phone number. Given that Zishu hasn’t been feeling well lately either, it just made sense to quit, find out if he’s having stress ulcers or dying of cancer (as coughing up blood could mean either) and try to make up with his brother.

Or not make up, if the small but inoperable tumor in his lungs has anything to say about it. Zishu walked out of the hospital after that diagnosis. He could have asked for treatment, but it would be a half-life for the next however many years (and however expensive), or he could walk away, live his next few years trying to be comfortable and leave Jiuxiao enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life.

This is the Zhou Zishu who meets the young upstart, Wen Kexing, intent on throwing the status quo into chaos.

-

I really just want a modern politician!AU! Nothing wrong with mob!AUs, but politicians would be a better allegory for everything but the literal assassins.

[reasoningdaily]

 Portrait of Charles Curtis Strauss Peyton, Kansas City, Missouri, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons 

In 2021, Senator Kamala Harris made history as the first woman, first African American, and first person of South Asian heritage to become vice president of the United States. But she wasn’t the first person of color to take the office. That honor belongs to Charles Curtis, an enrolled member of the Kaw Nation who served as President Herbert Hoover’s veep for his entire first term from 1929 to 1933. Prejudice against Native Americans was widespread and intense at the time, but Curtis’s ascent to the office speaks to his skillful navigation of the political system. His rise also tells a broader story of how prominent Native Americans viewed how their communities should assimilate within a predominately white society and government. The policies Curtis pursued in Congress and then as vice president, specifically those on Native issues, cloud his legacy today despite his groundbreaking achievements.

Curtis was born in 1860 to a white father from a wealthy Topeka family and a mother who was one quarter Kaw (a tribe also known as Kanza or Kansa). When he was young, Curtis’ mother died, and his father fought in the Civil War for the United States. Growing up, he spent time living with both his sets of grandparents and for eight years, he lived on the Kaw reservation. Curtis grew up speaking Kanza and French before he learned English.

Mark Brooks, site administrator for the Kansas Historical Society’s Kaw Mission site, says Curtis was known for his personal charisma.

“He had a knack for conversation,” Brooks says. “He was just a very likeable person even early on when he was just a young boy in Topeka.”

In 1873, the federal government forced the Kaw south to Indian Territory, which would later become Oklahoma. The adolescent Curtis wanted to move with his community, but, according to his Senate biography, his Kaw grandmother talked him into staying with his paternal grandparents and continuing his education.

“I took her splendid advice and the next morning as the wagons pulled out for the south, bound for Indian Territory, I mounted my pony and with my belongings in a flour sack, returned to Topeka and school,” Curtis later recalled, in a flourish of self-mythologizing. “No man or boy ever received better advice, it was the turning point in my life.”

Curtis gained some fame as a talented horse rider, known on the circuit as “Indian Charlie.” But his grandparents on both sides encouraged him to pursue a professional career, and he became a lawyer and then a politician. Contemporary accounts cite his personal charm and willingness to work hard served him well in politics. Kansas politician and newspaper editor William Allen White described him carrying books with the names of Republicans in each Kansas township, mumbling the names “like a pious worshiper out of a prayer book” so that he could greet each of them by name and ask about their family.

Despite the racist treatment of the Kaw by white Kansans—which included land theft and murder—many whites were obviously willing to vote for Curtis.

“The one thing that might have lightened the persecution of Curtis was that he was half white,” Brooks says. “He’s light-complected, he’s not dark-skinned like a lot of Kanza. His personality wins people over—unfortunately, racists can like a person of color and still be a racist, and I think that’s kind of what happened with Charlie. He was just a popular kid.”

Curtis rose within the Republican Party that dominated Kansas and became a congressman, then senator, and eventually Senate majority leader. In office, he was a loyal Republican and an advocate for women’s suffrage and child labor laws.

Throughout his time in Congress, Curtis also consistently pushed for policies that many Native Americans today say were a disaster for their nations. He favored the Dawes Act of 1887, passed a few years before he entered Congress, which allowed the federal government to divide tribal lands into individual plots, which eventually led to the selling of their land to the public. And in 1898, as a member of the Committee on Indian Affairs, he drafted what became known as the Curtis Act, extending the Dawes Act’s provisions to the so-called “Five Civilized Tribes” of Oklahoma.

“[The Curtis Act] enabled the dissolution of many tribal governments in Oklahoma on the path to Oklahoma becoming a state,” says Donald Grinde, a historian at the University at Buffalo who has Yamasse heritage. “And of course, that [opened up] tribal land in Oklahoma to white settlers, sooners.”

Curtis also supported Native American boarding schools, in which children were taken from their families and denied access to their own languages and cultures. Abuse was rampant. Grinde cites the schools as a factor in the population decline of Native Americans between 1870 and the 1930s.

“You tell mothers, ‘OK, you’re going to give birth to a child, but at 5 they’re going to be taken from you,’” Grinede says. “Lots of Indian women chose not to have children.”

Historian Jeanne Eder Rhodes, a retired professor at the University of Alaska and enrolled member of the Assiniboine and Sioux tribes, says land division under the Dawes and Curtis Acts ultimately “destroyed everything” for many Native American tribes. At the time, however, Curtis’ positions were far from unique among Native Americans. While many were dead set against land division and other policies pushed by the federal Bureau of Indian Affairs, others believed that tribes must assimilate into white American society and adopt norms like individual land ownership.

“At the turn of the century when he’s working there are very prominent Indian scholars and writers and professional Indian people who are all talking about these issues,” Rhodes says. “Some of them are opposed to the idea, some of them are opposed to the Bureau of Indian Affairs, some of them are working for the Bureau of Indian Affairs.”

She said Curtis, like other Native American assimilationists, was concerned with issues like the education and health of Native American people, who were already suffering immensely in a pre-Dawes Act United States. And, she said, if Curtis hadn’t supported assimilation, he would never have gotten far in the era’s white-dominated politics.

“What do you do when you’re in a situation like Curtis?” Rhodes says. “He’s proud of his heritage and yet he wants to be in a position where he can do something to support Native issues. I think he tried his best and I think he regretted, in the end, being assimilationist.”

As Curtis approached his late 60s, already having achieved so much, he had one more rung to climb on the political ladder. In 1927, when Republican President Calvin Coolidge announced that he would not run for another term, he saw his chance to run for President the following year.

His plan was to run a behind-the-scenes campaign, seeking support from delegates who he hoped would see him as a compromise candidate if they couldn’t come together behind one of the frontrunners. Unfortunately for him, that scenario didn’t pan out; Secretary of Commerce Herbert Hoover won on the first ballot.

By this time, there was already bad blood between Curtis and Hoover. The senator had bristled at Hoover’s choice in 1918 to campaign for Democratic candidates and tried to stop then-President Warren G. Harding from appointing him to his cabinet, which he did anyway in 1921. Seven years later, the Republican Party saw putting the two together on their ticket as the solution to a serious problem: Hoover was tremendously unpopular with farmers. Curtis, Kansas’ beloved veteran senator, offered the perfect choice to balance out the Commerce Secretary.

But what about his race? Grinde says Republican Party leaders and voters would have been aware of Curtis’ Kaw identity.

“They recognized that he was one-eighth Indian, but he had served the interests of white people for a long, long time,” Grinde says.

He also notes that the relationship of white Americans of the time with Native American identity was complicated. For some white people with no cultural links to Native nations, it might be a point of pride to claim that their high cheekbones marked them as descendants of an “American Indian princess.”

Despite his assimilationist politics, throughout his career Curtis honored his Kaw heritage. He had an Indian jazz band play at the 1928 inauguration and decorated the vice presidential office with Native American artifacts. And, even if many Native American people were unhappy with the land allotment plans he had championed, many Kaw were proud of him. When he was chosen for the vice presidential slot on the Republican ticket, Kaw communities in Oklahoma declared “Curtis Day,” and some of his Kaw relations attended the inauguration.

After all he had achieved to reach the vice presidency, Curtis’ time in office was anticlimactic. Hoover remained suspicious of his former rival and, despite Curtis’ enormous expertise in the workings of Congress, kept him away from policy. Washington insiders joked that the vice president could only get into the White House if he bought a ticket for the tour. The best-known event of his term involved a dispute over social protocol between Curtis’ sister, Dolly, and Theodore Roosevelt’s daughter, Alice. Dolly acted as Curtis’s hostess since his wife had died before he became vice president, and asserted that this gave her the right to be seated before the wives of congressmen and diplomats at formal dinners. Alice bristled over what she characterized as the questionable “propriety of designating any one not a wife to hold the rank of one.” And, aside from personal squabbles, the onset of the Great Depression made the White House a difficult place to be. In 1932 the Hoover-Curtis ticket lost in a landslide defeat to New York Governor Franklin Delano Roosevelt and Speaker of the House John Nance Garner.

And yet, Brooks says, Curtis did not lose his taste for politics. After his defeat he chose to stay in Washington as a lawyer rather than go home to Topeka. When he died of a heart attack in 1936, he was still living in the capital.

“That had become who he was,” Brooks says.