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crashingmeteorz · 4 years

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me and the ash can’t settle down ch. 2

lu ten goes on his first hunt, and his past comes back to haunt him.

read ch.1 here. word count: 5.8k. read on ao3.

trigger warnings for: death, violence, ptsd

"Tell me, Bǎi. What do you know about bounty hunting?"

The short answer is, not much.

Kōji is pleased with Lu Ten’s physical ability - Lu Ten has no intention of revealing his firebending, of course. Kōji may be unusually accepting, but theoretically housing an enemy is much easier when you don’t have the physical proof of their past in front of you.

So Lu Ten sticks to hand-to-hand combat and sword fighting. Of course, trying to beat Kōji in a fistfight is like trying to knock down a rock wall with your bare hands. Lu Ten tries to use his agility to his advantage, but it becomes clear very quickly that Kōji fights dirty. He bests Lu Ten at every turn, and what’s worse, it’s obvious the older man is holding back.

“These people we’re dealing with,” says Kōji in his rough voice, “they’re not gonna show you mercy so don’t you show them any, got it?”

Lu Ten listens to his new teacher and tries to forget the rigid rules he’d spent his whole life abiding by. It’s surprisingly easy to let go of the concept of fairness, and when Kōji stumbles for just a moment, Lu Ten punches him square in the face.

“Shit,” Lu Ten says panicking as blood pours out of Kōji’s nose. “Shit, shit, shit.” Kōji tries to stem the flow with one hand, which is growing redder by the second, and waves at Lu Ten nonchalantly with the other.

“You did what I asked,” says Kōji, the blood-flow making him sound congested. “Think you might’ve broke my nose though...”

Lu Ten procures a rag and hands it to Kōji, but the floor is already a blood-splattered mess. He can’t help but think that if he had been firebending and slipped up like that, Kōji would be dead.

Kōji pulls up a chair and sits with his newly crooked nose, courtesy of Lu Ten’s fist, and tells Lu Ten to show him what weapons he’s familiar with, to Lu Ten’s extreme relief. None of Kōji’s small arsenal of weapons is state of the art, every single one accompanied by scratches and dents, but there’s at least one katana in the mix. He inspects the blade carefully - it’s nowhere near the quality of the one he made with Piandao, but that was left at home in the palace. A thought arises unbidden: will his father include the katana in his memorial? Lu Ten closes his eyes tightly, so that it hurts, and then holds the blade steady.

He practices his forms blindly, never once opening his eyes as he dances around the room with the battered old katana. Suddenly he’s eight, practicing with some weapons he stole off the palace guards, his father laughing merrily as he lunges with the clumsiness of a child. Now he’s 14, and Piandao is patiently correcting his forms, demanding more but never implying Lu Ten is not enough. Now he’s 16 and his cousins are begging him to firebend at them, but they’re far too little, so he says conspiratorially, “what about a sword fight?” Now he’s 18 and killing one of his fellowmen-

“At least you can use that thing,” Kōji chuckles, and Lu Ten is grateful for the interruption from his thoughts. “You’re a piss-poor street fighter.”

“And you’re a fucking mountain,” Lu Ten retorts, setting the blade down gently. “How the hell am I supposed to get the jump on you?”

“There’s no weight classes in bounty hunting,” says Kōji, wagging his finger like a school teacher, upper lip still stained a bright red. Lu Ten finds a new rag and pours some water over it this time, tossing it to Kōji.

“I thought we’re not supposed to kill these guys?” Lu Ten asks curiously. Kōji had tried to explain his profession, but it had mostly resulted in a series of tangents and old stories about the job. Any important details Lu Ten had gleaned came exclusively from context clues.

“We’re not,” was Kōji’s reply, giving Lu Ten a look that seems to imply he’s said the stupidest thing Kōji’s ever heard. “But you need to be able to defend yourself. You know how to disarm, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Lu Ten replies tersely, looking for a sheath that might fit the sword. Piandao had taught him to disarm, obviously, but he had also said that the katana was a weapon of death. At the time, Lu Ten had hardly listened, too appreciative of the thin, curved design of the blade to really care for its purpose. Now it seemed Lu Ten had always been destined for violence.

“Good,” Kōji says gruffly, but his eyes are alight with excitement, “because I have a tip for us to follow, and we don’t have time for you to sit around all day figuring it out.”

The rules of the hunt are both straightforward and murky, if Lu Ten has understood anything from Kōji’s reminiscences. You track the target, capture them alive, and hand them over to the paying party, but you can work out a deal if things got messy. You don’t encroach on someone else’s territory, unless the bounty’s extraordinarily high. You always follow through and refuse to be bought, unless the offer is good. You never kill a target, unless it’s the only option. When he asks Kōji how to make the call on these flip-flopping rules Kōji brushes him off.

“Comes with practice,” he says, unconcerned. “Eventually you’ll learn to trust your gut.”

The man they’re after is, according to Kōji, your average lowlife. He started off small-time, scamming elderly couples and widows with too many children and not enough food.

“Now he’s gone to flat-out stealing, but he hit up the wrong guy,” Kōji tells him through a mouthful of rice that evening. “Rich kid like you. Influential family. The spoiled brat tried to fight, and he barely survived.”

Kōji suddenly and meaningfully points his chopsticks at Lu Ten.

“Don’t let the same thing happen to you, ‘cause I’m not hauling your sorry ass all the way back here again.”

“Again?” Lu Ten asks suspiciously. “I thought you said I showed up practically on your doorstep?”

Kōji grumbles something practically unintelligible about a couple of bodies in the valley below and practically shoves his face in his dinner. Kōji may put on a callous front, but Lu Ten doesn’t believe it for a second.

“Point is,” Kōji says after finishing his meal, “the rich kid comes from a rich family. Minor nobles, or something. We bring them this guy, they reward us with gold.”

“How much?” Lu Ten asks, not necessarily out of greed as much as curiosity. How much is a son’s life worth around here? How much is his attacker’s?

“That’s usually negotiable upon delivery,” is the only answer Kōji seems willing to give. “We leave at dawn, so get some rest.”

“What, that quick?” Lu Ten asks in surprise, rising from his seat. “We’re just going to leave without a plan? Do we even know where he is?”

In response, Kōji tosses a rolled-up sheet of parchment at him. Lu Ten unfurls it to reveal a wanted poster, and a note scrawled at the bottom that reads “Lower Mùchéng - Frogman”.

“Who the hell is Frogman?” Lu Ten asks.

“My informant, for this job anyway,” Kōji explains as he gets ready for bed. “You find something to keep that sword in? It’s not exactly a stroll in the park to Mùchéng, so we gotta leave early.”

Since that is apparently all the information he’s getting, Lu Ten sighs and mimics Kōji, climbing into the warm bed.

“You always have this laid out for unexpected guests?” Lu Ten asks after a while. On the rare occasion he’d had to intrude on someone’s home, they’d usually just roll out a mat or futon. Kōji, while comfortable, didn’t seem to live the most luxurious life, to provide such a thing for strange guests.

“Go to sleep,” Kōji grunts, turning over in his own bed. Just as well. Every man deserves his share of secrets.

He wakes up before the sun rises. Kōji is still snoring (and hell if Kōji isn’t a loud snorer), so Lu Ten splashes his face with water and dresses. It feels like a strangely serious moment, dusk making everything outside seem muted and foreign. Lu Ten was always an early riser, preferring the warmth of the sun to the cool of the night, but then, most firebenders are like him. As he slips the sheath he found, just a touch too big, beneath his belt, he feels for a moment the same as he did the morning he shipped out for the Earth Kingdom. He was still just shy of 18, then, and his father’s most recent letter had been clutched in his hand, creased from the way his fingers pressed into it.

“My dear son,” the general had written, “I challenge you to find a father who has ever been prouder than I am of you. Let me meet this man, and show him my son, and see if he still feels so certain.”

Kōji snorts loudly, and when Lu Ten looks over the older man is rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Someone’s eager to get going,” he grumbles, and Lu Ten wonders if Kōji’s ever happy. He tells the older man he'll be waiting, and when he steps outside the sun is just beginning to rise. Lu Ten hasn’t ventured beyond the garden since he arrived, and his heart sounds loudly against his ribcage as inhales the smell of the world around them. Something childish inside him whispers “adventure”, tickling his ears and pulling at his lips to form a smile. It’s terrifying. It’s invigorating.

Kōji joins him a few minutes later, a large weapon in hand.

"Is that a mace?" Lu Ten asks in disbelief.

“Mùchéng is that way,” is Kōji's reply, pointing towards the northern mountains, and he sounds more alive now than Lu Ten’s ever heard him. “The city is built practically on stilts. Lots of good hiding places, but I have an idea of where to look. Don’t be too obvious about it now.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lu Ten says easily, the contagious energy zipping through him like electricity. “You’re the one who sticks out like a sore thumb, colossus.”

Kōji laughs, loud and long and hearty, and Lu Ten has to fight the urge to suggest they race to a nearby yew tree, his giddy excitement is that strong.

“Okay, shrimpy,” Kōji rumbles, knocking his boots against each other to rid them of mud. “If you’re so slick, think you can beat me to that tree there?”

Lu Ten grins.

“You’re on, old man,” he retorts, but when Lu Ten steps out to run Kōji sticks his foot out, tripping him so that he falls face-first in the dirt. Kōji laughs uproariously the entire (slow, in Lu Ten’s opinion) run to the yew tree, yelling something about payback for a broken nose. Lu Ten can’t even be upset, as he hauls himself to his feet and jogs to catch up with Kōji. It feels good to have fun again.

They reach the mountain town by mid-afternoon, or Kōji says they do, anyway. All Lu Ten can see is a rocky path and a drop-off point. Kōji smirks at his confusion, raps a quick rhythm on the mountain, and then there is a loud creak followed by a descending platform. Kōji and Lu Ten step on and are slowly lifted into the air by a series of pulleys and ropes. When they reach the top, they are surrounded by a city made entirely of wood. Wooden planks and paths lead the way inward, wooden beams support the platforms and building, wooden stores and homes sit up and down on the mountainside.

“It’s all wood,” Lu Ten says, trying not to let his nerves show. He suddenly feels like a gemsbok bull in a pottery shop. This whole place is a fire hazard.

“Weren’t you listening?” asks Kōji, leading the way into town. “Mùchéng is a refugee city, or it used to be anyway. People came here and built this town to hide from the Fire Nation. When their villages were raided, most of their benders were taken, so this is what they had to work with.”

“You never said any of that, Kōji,” Lu Ten says irritably, unable to stop himself from tiptoeing. “Besides, of all the materials to build your secret city out of -“

“I know, I know, one big cookout,” Kōji agrees. “But it’s well-hidden.”

“So were the airbenders,” mutters Lu Ten, but Kōji either doesn’t hear the comment or just ignores it.

Lu Ten finds himself sticking close to Kōji as they make their way along the planks, like a small child afraid to stray from their parent's side the first time away from home. In any city there are varieties of people, but Mùchéng has a distinctly disjointed feel to it. In this corner, there are children playing under the watchful eye of their parents. Under a nearby archway, a young woman cries as she writes a letter to a loved one far away. The very next ramp drops down to reveal a group of shady characters discussing something fervently. Every single person seems like they don't belong here, but it's clear from the suspicious glances that Kōji and Lu Ten belong here the least.

To match the sinking feeling in Lu Ten's chest, Kōji leads them down the ramp near the probable-criminals. The narrow path is so tight they have to mumble excuse me's as they pass, and the politeness only seems to lower their credibility. They travel deeper, edging along what can only be a crevasse located within the mountain. Lu Ten practically falls into the black abyss but Kōji's arm shoots out to keep him firmly on the ground. The older man points down to a rope ladder, which seems to be the only way in or out of the hole.

"Popular hideout down there," says Kōji, gazing downwards. Lu Ten's never had a fear of heights, but something about the situation makes his stomach turn.

"We'd be pretty screwed if we ran into trouble down there," Lu Ten says, swallowing a knot that's been building in his throat. What is wrong with him?

"Yep," is all Kōji has to say. "You ready?"

Lu Ten lays a hand, lightly, over his katana, and nods sharply. It's clear now that any ideas about this being a straightforward job have gone out the window - and Kōji trusts him anyway. He's not about to back out now. In a moment of courage, Lu Ten descends the ladder first. When a strong breeze causes the old rope to swing this way and that, however, he regrets his decision.

Whatever Kōji's reward negotiation skills are, they better make this trip worth it.

It turns out to be an average bar, once you ignore the fact that it's buried so deep within a mountain wolfbats hang sleeping from its rafters. Kōji sits at the bar with practiced confidence, and Lu Ten wonders if it's just from frequenting places like this, or if Kōji's been to this bar in particular a few times. When Lu Ten sits beside him, however, Kōji rolls his head, twisting his neck left and right a few times, and the tension in his muscles seems to indicate he's not comfortable here.

"We're looking for a skinny guy, probably pretty arrogant. He's got a two-headed rat viper tattoo on his right shoulder," Kōji murmurs. "He may be a small fry, but he's lethal. I'm practically a stranger here, and he's not, so he's got the home-field advantage, too."

"Knowing this stuff upfront might have helped," Lu Ten hisses before taking a swig of whatever Kōji had ordered for them. His stomach is still nauseous, and his throat feels dry for some reason. The burning liquid doesn’t seem to help.

"You're shaking like a leaf as it is, didn't need any more stress," Kōji whispers back.

"I'm not-" Lu Ten begins to reply indignantly, but he's interrupted by a fight breaking out in a back corner. A pair of young men, a little older than Lu Ten, are arguing loudly about money. Everyone in the bar pays attention, and fast, the familiar sounds of drawn weapons ringing out around them. One man gives the other a shove, and that's all the patrons need to start an all-out brawl.

"Shit," says Lu Ten, ducking to avoid an errant swing from his neighbor at the bar. The bartender hit the floor the moment his customers started swinging, and now he, Lu Ten, and Kōji are the only ones not actively fighting. "What do we do now?"

"We stay right here and find our guy," Kōji says gruffly, before promptly smashing a bottle over the head of a man who had tried to engage him in a scuffle. "The fight started right after we showed up. Someone must have recognized me and needed to create a diversion. Come on."

Kōji pushes away from his seat and heads towards the back of the bar, navigating his way through the flying fists and falling bodies. Lu Ten has to cough a couple of times as he follows, his throat feeling tighter than before, probably because of all the dust the crowd is kicking up.

"Won't he leave through the front?" Lu Ten whisper-shouts in the chaos.

"I've been here once before, years ago," Kōji replies. "There's an exit out back. I'm willing to bet we can cut him off from there."

Lu Ten coughs again and follows, relieved to be getting away from the mess of the bar. They get to a wooden door where someone is beating the crap out of someone else, and Kōji effortlessly pushes him out of the way. He yanks open the door to reveal a dim hallway leading to a back room.

"In there," says Kōji as Lu Ten slams the door behind them. "You ready to fight?"

"Sure," Lu Ten says, more confidently than he feels. He lets out a breath that comes out like a wheeze, and he fights the oncoming cough so severely it feels like he's choking on it.

Kōji enters the room.

"Duck!" roars the older man, tackling Lu Ten to the ground as a large arrow whizzes past them into the dark hallway. At the end of the room, one man has a crossbow, and there have to be at least six or seven men besides that. They move at once, attempting to surround Kōji and Lu Ten, so Lu Ten rolls out from under the older man, withdrawing his katana as he does and leaping to a stand. He immediately goes to defend Kōji, but when Lu Ten glances over, Kōji’s already bludgeoned someone and is swinging his mace around furiously.

Lu Ten takes the shooter, leaping forward to slice in half the arrow that had been knocked and jabbing their attacker with his sword. The man yells out in pain, but when Lu Ten gets a good look it's not their target, so he withdraws the katana kicks high, hitting the man in the head and knocking him out.

They're down five versus two, now, and it would feel like fair odds if Lu Ten didn't think he was having an asthma attack. The thrill of the fight is familiar enough that his body responds practically on instinct, but he coughs and coughs the whole time, sounding as though he'll hack up a lung. The coughs wrack him so violently that when he takes down another opponent, two more manage to subdue him, grabbing him by his hair and pressing a blade to his throat.

I survived the war, Lu Ten thinks almost hysterically, and I'm going to die at the hands of thieves.

"Bǎi!" Kōji practically screeches, and the hand at his throat is knocked away by a mound of earth. Lu Ten processes in slow motion this turn of events - he looks out the window, which has shattered, and back to his assailants, who are fighting Kōji from across the room. Kōji is yelling and snarling and practically foaming at the mouth.

He is also earthbending, Lu Ten realizes too slowly, as more rocks go sailing past his head and into the attackers.

He's earthbending. There's earthbending here. Kōji, his friend, is an earthbender.

Lu Ten knows he's still kneeling on the ground, and that four very violent men are attacking Kōji, but it's just so hard to breathe, and earthbending is so loud, why is it always so loud?

There's a shout, somewhere, and another rock rushes past Lu Ten, but this time it nicks his ear. Lu Ten inhales, sharp and violent, and the noisy earth falls away to the crackle of flames and smoke. Someone is shrieking. Lu Ten inhales again, and everything around him is a reddish-orange color. It's good and bad all at once, but even though his lungs are working again, his chest still hurts so bad.

"Bǎi!" someone yells, and Lu Ten wonders who they're talking to. There are lots of Bǎis, in both the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom. He hopes it's not a fallen soldier - the man sounds worried. Lu Ten would hate for him to be disappointed.

"Bǎi!" comes the voice again, and Lu Ten's vision clears just long enough to see a round, worried face.

"Dad?" he asks, and the red-orange fades ever-so-slowly to black.

When Lu Ten comes to, he's surrounded by the bodies of his friends. Last he remembered the earthbenders had crossed no man's land in a desperate move, doubtlessly hoping to keep the firebenders from making way on yet another of their walls. Lu Ten had felt for the Earth Kingdom soldiers, of course, but he never thought for a minute they'd succeed. His father was the general, after all, and his father was very good at war.

But it would seem they had been successful, in the end, and the corpses that surrounded him proved it. They're piled on man-made mountains, crushed between enormous boulders, disfigured beyond all possible recognition. Lu Ten moves to stand, a dull ache in his core, and is shocked to find that his legs still work. A voice in his head insists they don't, but then how could he possibly be standing?

He limps around the massacre numbly, unsure what is up and what is down in the aftermath of what seems to have been an explosion, or maybe a very powerful earthquake. He checks every body he passes, even the ones without faces, but every single one is dead. Lu Ten realizes with a start he is the only surviving member of his regiment. That he, the captain, did not go down with his ship. What a miracle. What a shame.

The idea that strikes him is vile and cowardly, but he's removing his decorations and insignia before he can stop himself. The body at his feet is mangled and torn asunder, as though it has been held down and stretched. Its face is nothing but exposed bone and meat, and when Lu Ten switches out his identifiers for the dead body's, it almost feels like he really did die today.

Lu Ten climbs one of the hills created by the earthbenders and looks to the sky. He can see mountains beyond, the Northern Mountains, he's sure. Maybe he can get there. Steal some Earth Kingdom clothes. Pretend his life is not his own. Suddenly there is a low groan from the ground below, and Lu Ten practically tumbles off the hill in search of it. A man, no, a boy is lying at the base of the rocky hill, his leg trapped beneath it. He's pale, paler than Lu Ten has ever seen him -

"Zhen," Lu Ten whispers, cradling the boy's head. He's known Zhen since childhood, the younger brother of one of Lu Ten's closest schoolmates. Lu Ten had insisted he was too young to go to war, but Zhen had fought bitterly for the great honor of serving his nation.

"Lu Ten?" Zhen says, and when he coughs blood stains his lips. In a moment of weakness, Lu Ten wonders if it would have been easier if Zhen had just died with the rest. Lu Ten removes his coat one-armed, taking care to still hold Zhen's head.

"What are you doing, Captain?" the boy asks, barely keeping his eyes open.

"This is going to hurt," Lu Ten says bracingly, shoving the coat in Zhen's mouth and instructing him to bite down. Finally allowing Zhen's head to drop softly to the ground, he moves over to the spot where the boy's leg is stuck. Lu Ten unsheaths the katana he won in a gambling match from his belt and takes a breath, then slices clean through at the juncture between rock and flesh. Zhen barely has time to react before Lu Ten is creating flame against the skin to cauterize the wound, and even with the makeshift gag, Zhen’s screams of pain echo throughout the battlefield. They are going to have to move the minute the skin has closed.

After what feels like forever, Zhen's leg finally stops bleeding. Zhen has stopped screaming as well, and when Lu Ten stands he sees that the boy has passed out. He bends down, hauling Zhen up by the middle and tossing him over his shoulder. Lu Ten almost keels over with the weight, so he stops a moment, shedding his armor and sword and pack, hoping that they'll find a generous healer on their journey north. Lu Ten doesn't want to try their luck with the Earth Kingdom army. They've already shown their cards.

He heads towards the mountains in a daze, Zhen a dead weight on his back as he navigates the smoke and the rubble. Just getting out of the battlefield feels impossible, but the futility of his task does not slow him down.

Lu Ten needs to help Zhen. He needs to leave the war behind. He needs to be anywhere else right now.

Exhausted, delirious, and unaware of his own broken leg, Lu Ten marches on.

Lu Ten sits straight up in bed when he wakes, gasping for air. It takes him a few minutes to remember where he is, especially since he wakes up in the cool summer evening, and the room is illuminated by a bizarre twilight he can't remember noticing before. He lets his breathing slow as he realizes he's safe in Kōji's house, a bowl of water and a neatly-folded washcloth sitting on the table beside him. His lungs, blessedly, accept the air he brings in, without burning or hacking away.

The job, he assumes, did not go well.

Kōji is nowhere to be seen. Lu Ten wonders for a moment if maybe the older man gave up, packed his things and left, before realizing how stupid he's being. This is Kōji's house. Lu Ten splashes his face with the water and rises to a stand, wincing in pain as he does so. His head feels like someone hit it with a club.

Or a mace.

Pushing forward, Lu Ten walks out back to the garden, where Kōji is watering his plants. He barely even looks up, just makes a small nod of acknowledgment and continues his work. Lu Ten had intended to have this conversation standing, to retain some dignity, but his pounding head protests, and he all but collapses into the nearby chair.

Lu Ten rubs hard at the back of his head, knowing more pain is counterintuitive but digging in with the base of his palm anyway. After a few moments, Kōji joins him in the adjacent chair, his bones cracking as he leans back.

"You could've mentioned you were a firebender," the older man says at last. The wind chimes tinkle gently around them, and the scent of fresh berries carry over to where they sit. There is no anger, or even surprise in Kōji's voice. Just a gentle reprimand, like a father would give to their adventurous child.

"You could've mentioned it was a wooden city," Lu Ten says. Kōji smiles, a small, soft thing. He does not laugh like he usually might, and for some reason Lu Ten feels 15 again, sneaking his secret girlfriend into the palace at night, like his father is saying Lu Ten could've just told him.

"You were right," Kōji says, which definitely throws Lu Ten for a loop. "I should've mentioned some things upfront. I didn't want to spook you away from the job, and I didn't want to spook you away by earthbending, either."

Lu Ten doesn't say anything. Just the sound of the word makes him want to get up and run, which is pathetic of him, considering he probably burnt a building down and Kōji is talking like he took a few silver pieces without permission.

"Guess we gotta start being straight with each other, here on out," Kōji continues. "Either that, or maybe we shouldn't be working together."

Lu Ten's stomach somersaults at the very suggestion. He knows, logically, that this is only his first attempt at a new life, that things don't always work on the first try, and if this life with Kōji isn't what he's meant for, well, he'll find something else. The thing is, though, Lu Ten's always gotten stuff on the first try. It's kind of his thing. And Kōji...Kōji is everything and nothing like his father, just the right middle-ground that makes him feel safe at home and far from the Fire Nation all at once.

"There are some things I can't tell you," Lu Ten says plainly, trying not to let his nerves show. Kōji just sighs.

"Yeah, I don't know what I expected," he says, still smiling. "Is there anything you can tell me?"

Lu Ten hesitates, trying to parse through the pieces of his life and figure out what bits are need-to-know.

"Earthbenders killed my men. My friend," Lu Ten says slowly. "I grew up with him. I've known him since he was nine. They crushed his leg and left him there to die."

Kōji hums appreciatively.

"I was taking the low road to the west for a job, and that's when I spotted you and your friend to the south," Kōji says. "You weren't too far from here, but no, you didn't get all the way to my house on that leg. Also, I have a kid, but they're not around much. About your age."

The last admission is hardly a surprise. Kōji may be loathe to admit it, but he’s a natural caretaker, and there’s a terrible loneliness about him Lu Ten had never understood until now. Lu Ten and Kōji look at one another in a sort of mutual understanding. Neither man has said all that probably needs to be said, but still, the air is lighter and things feel easier between them. Cleaner, somehow.

“How’d I hurt my head?” asks Lu Ten after a while.

“Passed out,” Kōji chuckles. “Hit the floor hard.”

"What happened to the target?" Lu Ten asks, an afterthought he hadn't considered until just now.

"Dead. Fortunately, they still paid up. Showed them the tattoo as proof."

"And the others?" Lu Ten says cautiously.

"Burnt to a crisp," Kōji says simply. Then, upon seeing Lu Ten's nervous reaction, he adds, "Don't worry. I made sure they were dead before we left. As far as anyone in Mùchéng's concerned, some fool kicked over a candle."

Lu Ten nods in silent thanks, even as he feels a pang of guilt for the unecessary death. He trusts Kōji, likes him a lot, but he's not really sure why the older man keeps covering for him. Maybe it's for the same reason Lu Ten's so eager to stick around - they're both missing something they lost, and looking for something new.

"We'll have to get used to each other's, you know. Skills," Kōji says awkwardly. Lu Ten agrees, despite the fear in his chest. "I say we start small. Candles and clay and things like that."

Lu Ten nods again, snapping his fingers and producing a tiny flicker of light. Kōji follows suit, reaching down to pick up a rock and crushing it between his fingers. Lu Ten watches, making sure to keep his flame controlled, as Kōji shapes and reshapes the earth. It's not so bad, here, in this context, when Kōji's earthbending resembles pottery more than anything else.

"What do you say?" Kōji asks, finally bending the rock to sand and letting it float away on the summer wind. Lu Ten similarly closes his hand, putting out his fire. "You wanna give hunting another go?"

"Why not?" Lu Ten says grinning. Kōji smiles back at him, and Lu Ten feels with absolute certainty that their next expedition will go better. "Can I just ask one more thing?"

"Shoot, kid," Kōji says as he rises from his seat.

"Show me where you buried my friend?"

Kōji stops in place, eyes widening in surprise. Then he nods solemnly, leading Lu Ten out of the garden and down a winding valley path, which intersects with the road they traveled to Mùchéng. Lu Ten’s head is still pouding, but he fights it off in order to show some respect to Zhen. Kōji points Lu Ten to a small hill, a lump of freshly-turned earth marked by a large stone. At first, the sight makes Lu Ten's throat well up all over again, until he moves closer and finds that Kōji has shaped the stone into a crude rendering of the Fire Nation symbol. His chest loosens again as he reaches out to smooth his fingers over the stone. It's not so bad, really, to be buried beneath the earth, but it's not what Zhen would have wanted.

"Is it...is it possible we could dig him out?" Lu Ten asks in as steady a voice as he can muster. Kōji says nothing, just raises his eyebrows in confusion.

"I want to give him his funeral rites," Lu Ten clarifies.

Kōji moves forward and moves into a careful stance, his face furrowed in concentration. Slowly, gently, the mound rumbles and falls away to reveal an almost fully deteriorated body wrapped in a blanket. Lu Ten takes a deep breath, mumbles a few words of farewell and thanks, and bends a wall of fire befitting of such a soldier.

He moves to stand beside Kōji as Zhen's ashes scatter around them. Kōji stands with his hands clasped, head bowed solemnly. Lu Ten is in a similar stance, but refuses to look away from the pyre he has created, focusing all of his thoughts on his friend, a tribute that has come much too late. When it is done, only Zhen's bones remain. Kōji buries the bones, just as before, and Lu Ten resets the grave marker.

"Thank you," he tells Kōji. It doesn't feel like nearly enough, but it's all he can say, for now. Kōji just grunts in reply. As they walk back to the house, Lu Ten's stomach settles for the first time in days. He knows it's only temporary, but he thinks he feels at ease.

#avatar bebop au #lu ten #iroh #atla #avatar the last airbender #tw death #tw violence #tw ptsd #fanfiction #operation sfa #my stuff #my fanfic

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bluepenguinstories · 3 years

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Remoras Full Chapter XXII: Wendy City

As I sat outside with a few friends at the break of dawn, my mind kept returning to just last night. That scene couldn’t be shaken away and while those folks conversed with pudding cups and oranges in hand, I mulled over that lady’s words.

“Rhea? Is that you?” She asked.

“Rheain’t,” I should’ve replied with. Rather than such a statement as, “now that’s a name I haven’t heard in years.” God damn, could I have been any more ambiguous? Sure, it made sense to me at the time, but I probably gave my would-be bounty hunter the wrong impression.

Now that I thought of it, we were similar in stature and I suppose (although it was a bit of a stretch) that in the dark, my purple hair could have been mistaken for her blue. Still...the implications of being mistaken for such a person left me just a little unsettled.

Pensive, I fixed my gaze on the space between the four of us, then allowed a smile to form.

“Last night I ran into someone who mistook me for an old co-worker of mine,” I announced to the group.

My arms were crossed and I glanced around now and took note of the food in each person’s hand; Otis, with his thick red mittens which held a queen sized candy bar. Gloria, frail and heavy in perfume (who knows how she got hold of such a thing) shook her hands as she spooned pudding into her mouth. Bernard, whose brown and balding hair matched his brown leather clothing, all full of holes. He held an orange in his hand. All the while, my stomach growled.

“You had a job?” Bernard grunted in disbelief.

“Yes, I had a job. Why is that so hard to believe?” I protested. “In fact, it was a little over a couple years ago that I was laid off. Well, all of us were laid off. The company is no more. Just like that office building beside us. Whatever occupied it once doesn’t occupy it now.”

In some respects, good riddance. In others, good grief.

“What kind of job was it?” Gloria, now interested, set down her pudding cup and asked. Bless her frail heart.

Now what can I tell them to make it palatable?

“We were housekeepers, of sorts,” was the answer I came up with.

“What, like you cleaned houses?” Bernard again.

I put my elbow over my knee, palm on my forehead, and shook my head.

“We cleaned...messes. Going from place to place, each of us with our little jobs. Some of us were really good at getting rid of things, while others, it was more about tidying up or moving things around. Brooms, mops, sprays, vacuums, feather dusters. You name it. Everyone had their specialty.”

In truth, our organization never had a name. Those who knew of us outside of the organization would call us ‘janitors’. Then again, some of us did as well. That, or something like it. Custodians, waste disposal, cleaners, plumbers, renovators, whatever. To think that it all stemmed from a joke we all passed around about how we ‘cleaned up after others’ messes’. Then again, how many messes did we clean up and how many did we make?

“You know, back in the day there used to be a term for mafia hitmen. ‘Guy who paints houses’. Were you something like that?” Otis at last gave some input, and I wondered where he heard that bit of trivia. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty.

“No, nothing like that,” I chuckled. “Get that idea out of your head.”

Because it’s too close to the truth for comfort.

“Anyway, about this old co-worker of mine…” I began, but I was no storyteller; I could spend the rest of my bloody life reminiscing, but that didn’t mean I could give a recollection worth a damn. Yet I tried. Important or not, the need to tell these strangers I’ve shared light meals with tugged at me. “What you have to understand is that many of us shared a bond together. Despite the fact we’d always have our jobs at different places from one another and although sometimes we’d be asked to work as a group or paired together, more often than not, we were off doing our own thing. But we still got together, whether it be at taverns, or the…” headquarters. “Office.”

I paused. Not for effect. Not for feedback. But for the simple fact that I wasn’t sure what name to give this mystery co-worker.

“So if you think of us like a grade school classroom, this co-worker, let’s call her Rhonda. Rhonda…Civic. Yeah, that works. Anyway, Rhonda would’ve been the quiet kid in the back. She kept to herself, didn’t really interact with anyone, and had a few quirks. Some odd ways of speaking. Feeling. Others picked up on it, and of course, like a grade school, she’d get teased. Others would talk about her behind her back,” kinda what I’m doing now, except how else am I supposed to talk about someone who’s no longer around?

“I’ve had situations like that,” Bernard grunted as he gave his input. “I used to operate a forklift for a pet food company. Me an’ the boys would shoot the shit when the manager wasn’t watchin’. Most of us, ‘nyway. There was this youngish guy, flannel shirt and overalls. Same attire every day. Didn’t know how he got away wit’ it, but that’s what he wore. He moved bag after bag of dog food, but never once so much as said hi. Not a peep from the kid. We all thought it was weird. Anyway, he quit one day, we never found out why, and that was that. I didn’t even think much of him ‘til you mentioned somethin’.”

“Yeah, it was the same for me,” I replied, and I looked up at the clouds in the sky. “Funny that, I didn’t think much of her back when I worked for that company and now out of the blue someone mistook me for her and it was like, ‘oh yeah…’”

“What about you, Wendy? You’re always off on your own at night, going at it with your projects,” he countered.

“We all have our eccentricities,” I concurred. “I’m also not much for conversation, either, most of the time, but I still enjoy the company of others. If for nothing else than the spectacle.”

It was far too early in the morning, but how I wished to have a warm cup of tea or sake in my hands so I could take little sips as I spoke.

“I never thought anyone outside of the company ever knew her, be it an old friend or an old enemy,” I carried on, unsure if I had any conclusion to this or if it was just early morning rambling.

“What? You think she had enemies?” Otis spat and I could swear that bits of chocolate just flew right by me.

“That’s the thing: I don’t know. There wasn’t really anything I knew about her apart from I heard. Sure, I watched her a few times, but that didn’t tell me much. Whether she had friends or enemies, I could never tell. When I think back on it, I wish I did know. That I had tried to find out more. But it’s kind of that whole ‘you don’t know what you got ‘til it’s gone’ type of thing. Then again, here she is gone, and I still don’t know what to make of it.”

“Gone?” Gloria must have taken notice of my choice of words. For the record, I didn’t know what became of her. Not any more than I knew what became of the rest of the people I once associated with. Considering that I couldn’t go back to the headquarters (not that I had any desire to return), I had to assume they were all dead and that the place was no more. It made the most sense to me.

“Yeah. Terminated. It’s funny that way, how to them we were all replaceable and they had no problem exploiting us, but even that couldn’t save them.”

“Damn if I don’t know that,” Otis bemoaned. “I have a nephew, and my nephew has a friend who was working when a sign fell on him. Broke his leg. Next thing he knew, management fired him, worker’s comp didn’t cover for his injury, and when he tried to sue, the company’s lawyers blocked him. Then, I knew this other guy who did what he was supposed to. But he got paid scraps and the stress got to him, so one day he came to work all hopped up on coke and his boss fired him on the spot. All those days of doing what he was told and scraping by, and one day was all it took for it to come crashing down. He ended up killing himself some time after that,” after those last words came a sniffle. No tears, though. Maybe it was a runny nose.

I shook my head. Sympathy and grief was a difficult thing to muster given the life I had; countless moments of killing and watching others die. Those I worked with, laughed and shared drinks with, gone at any moment. It wasn’t a case of ‘kill or be killed’, but it was a life defined by the death of others, all the same. So what I felt when Otis relayed his tales of people he knew, all I could feel was hatred and disgust. If I knew their bosses, I would have killed them on the spot.

“You okay, Wendy?” Otis’ voice of concern broke through my thoughts. How I must have stared with that same pensive look I often did when lost in thought.

“It’s just not right, though, is it?” I glanced from person to person as I asked, my question rhetorical in nature. They all shook their heads and murmured, “no” or “not at all”.

Then Bernard waved his hand away and grumbled.

“Bah! Right, wrong, who gives a damn? I’m still alive,” he retorted, then turned to his back and laid himself down over sheets of newspaper.

That was a point I was willing to consider. To some, there was a profound difference between ‘alive’ and ‘survive’, but really, he was no less alive than someone with the privilege of a roof over their head and a bed to sleep in. Food in the pantry and some form of stability. Such things were all an illusion, anyway. People get busy, food goes bad. Bills pile up, costs increase, wage stays the same. To compensate, work extra hours, sleep less. Everything comes at a price few can afford and the compromises are seldom in one’s favor. Locked into a system in which the average person is always just on the verge of homelessness, yet the state of being homeless itself was punished.

Once I had asked Bernard, “if you were given a home, would you take it?” Based on that premise some other minds had, that people such as Bernard only lived that way because they wanted to. That it’s ‘on them’ or whatever. His response? Something like, “show me something that won’t be taken from me, otherwise don’t waste my time.”

That may have sounded like, “I’m here because I want to,” but at least to me, the difference couldn’t have been any more clear.

But enough rants. I stretched my arms out and yawned, then smiled a cheeky grin.

“Well, you know what they say, duty calls,” I announced as I got up. “Time for me to go digging for cash and get myself a bite to eat.”

That was how I went about most of my day: I’d get up, chat with a few folks around the docks, walk around the city ‘til I got a bit of cash, spend it on deep dish pizza and cheap beer (the staple of Chicago), then head back to the docks, bathe in the lake water, and resume my work in the office building. One of those days I’d have working lights, and then I could get to work on giving those folks a more comfortable place to sleep at night. Something like a home. Although it was unfortunate to think that in the eyes of the law, they’d still be considered homeless. Even the most idealistic of endeavors could result in a losing battle.

Whatever actions I might have to take in the future, I focused on the agenda for the day. It was during the day in which I was neither a rumor nor a killer. Daylight meant that I was just a person. Hell, at times a superhero; case in point, an old lady gave me a few bucks after I got her cat out of a tree (yes, as cliché as it was, such a thing happened quite often). Soon after that, I headed down to Cosmo Corner (a popular downtown tavern).

It was about noon now and my favorite bartender would be in soon: Wanda. Nice young lady, all covered in tattoos. At least a dozen on each arm, when I first met her I thought she was part of a crime ring or in a street gang, but nah. Apparently on the side, she liked to paint in her studio, but that was as hardcore as she got. Oh, well, being a bartender could be hardcore too. Not everyone can handle being a bartender.

Right now it was Stickbug (no, I don’t know why he was called that, but everyone called him that. Maybe that’s just his name). Fitness guru with a pencil thin mustache who was disastrous at mixing drinks. But amiable, I’d give him that. None of the conversations he’d strike up were ever ones I was interested in having, but he didn’t have a mean word to say about anyone. Maybe that was the problem: you had to have boundaries. You couldn’t show everyone the same level of sympathy.

“Say Wendy, have you heard of the fall of Constantinople?” Stickbug asked whilst he flung glass after glass in the air and began juggling them. Upon a quick glance, I noticed that there weren’t many people at the moment. Fine enough. I guess no one would give him dirty looks. As for me, I let my head fall onto the counter, the effects of my lack of sleep setting in.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied.

“D’ya wanna hear about it?” He continued to ask, and I already knew how insistent he could be with his topics.

“No,” I told him, to no avail.

“Okay, so we’ve got this city named Istanbul and…” he began, but it didn’t take long for my thoughts to drown out anything else he said.

Why couldn’t I have come in just a little bit later? No, it’s not bad. I could learn things if I listen, I’m just not in the mood to do so. I just want to eat and drink and...oh. Oh my. This must be what Rhea had to deal with all the time...wanting to order food, but never wanting to socialize. Not to mention how anxious she seemed to be in any situation that didn’t have to do with violence. Girl could kick ass but had trouble ordering a sandwich at a sub shop. Not to mention the general bodily discomfort she apparently dealt with.

‘I, and I cannot stressed this enough, am stressed’ I imagine she must have said at one point or another. Seemed to fit, anyway. That, or ‘I, and I cannot stress this enough, need a sweater’ or a blanket. Ugh. Why am I thinking of some weirdo who had such a minuscule presence in my life? Could it have to do with that woman last night? Yeah, probably. Well, a name’s a name. It could have been anyone named ‘Rhea’. Hell, the one I’m thinking of used a different name for each person she met, so I doubt anyone would know her by that name. Probably something else instead, like Sharpay D. Em.

Anyway, I ought to be thinking of more important things. Like the fact that the woman last night wanted to kill me. First of all, couldn’t she have waited? I was busy and I don’t really like being interrupted from my work. All I’m asking for is some fair warning and furthermore –

“...And that is why if you suspect you have a mouse in your home, you should leave a piece of cheese on the floor overnight,” Stickbug seemed to have concluded his little history lesson, except I must have missed many steps, because I wasn’t really sure how we got there.

“Wait, what?” I lifted my head and asked with a dull expression planted on my face.

“Want me to start all over?” He beamed, and I’m sure he could have talked all day and night if someone let him.

“How about later? Isn’t your shift over soon?” I reminded him with a slight sense of pride.

“Oh yeah! You’re right! So glad I got someone to remind me! Otherwise I’d be here all day!”

And nobody wants that. Hell, I don’t even think you’d want that.

“Before you go, I may as well order, seeing as I haven’t done that yet.”

“Oh no!” He gasped. “I hope you haven’t been hungry!”

Funny to think that his concern is real and not sarcasm.

“In fact, I am hungry right now,” I corrected him. “By the way, I’ll get my usual: pepperoni and spinach, large.”

“Right on!” I handed him the cash I had gotten from that old lady earlier. I still had some left over for sake, but I wanted to wait until Wanda got in.

I wonder what kind of food that woman from last night likes to eat. I feel like she’d eat chicken legs and large chunks of steaks. Just, a lot of steak. You know, why am I wondering such a thing? I’ve got better things to think about.

About five minutes later and a glass of water downed, Stickbug waved goodbye. In his place came Wanda with a bandanna over her head and covered in sweat which ran down her face.

“Intense painting session?” I asked.

She wiped her forehead and huffed.

“You know it. Were you waiting for me?”

“Heh,” I flashed her a smile. “It’s just not the same with Stickbug.” Really, how did that name come about? I think he said his name was Steven once, but I’ll be damned if I can remember.

“Is that so?” She asked, then went to the back to put her stuff away and get settled in. About the same time she came back out, the pizza arrived as well.

I took a heaping slice as layer upon layer of cheese and bits of spinach fell off of the pizza and back down onto the plate, unable to sustain itself on the thick cake of dough. Upon taking a large bite, my mouth was filled with the warm and gooey taste along with the combination of squishy spinach and savory pepperoni. One strong gulp later, and I was ready to take a drink. Next to me was my cup of sake, and when I looked up, Wanda winked.

“By the way, someone came in last night asking about any abandoned buildings,” Wanda mentioned as I sipped my cup of sake.

“Oh yeah?” I hummed, which came out more like a “mm-hmm.”

“Yeah. I just told her about the office building you’ve been hanging out in.”

I spat out my drink. Some might have gotten on her apron, but that was her problem, not mine.

“What did you do that for?! I don’t want people coming in and interrupting me while I’m working!”

Then I thought it over.

“Say, what did she look like?”

She put her finger on her chin and looked up.

“Hmm...big and muscular, brown poofy hair.”

Ugh. Yeah.

“Oh yeah. She came by and visited. Tried to kill me,” I replied, almost nonchalant about the whole ordeal, despite how much it had been on my mind.

“What? Are you serious?” She balked.

I shrugged and took another bite of my pizza.

“Yeah, but she wasn’t hard to deal with or anything.”

My main concern was why she was there at all. It’s not that I never expected anyone to come after me, especially when I all but deserted my job. But when no one came, I just expected that I was free and I could live out my life as I pleased.

“Jeez, did you kill her?” She accused. Rather baseless, too.

“No,” I scoffed. “I just sent her back home. Don’t know why she went after me, either.”

“Look, Wendy, I know you’ve killed people. Can’t really say I didn’t see something like this coming.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong: I get why, I just don’t get why, y’know?”

She shook her head.

“It’s like, she said there was a request for my death. She didn’t even know who I was, she mistook me for someone else. What I don’t get is why, rather, how such a request came about. Like, someone knows about me, but is sending people who don’t know about me to do the job.”

“Well, do you know what the request says?”

“No,” I admitted.

“Then maybe whoever made it didn’t know who you were either, but noticed some things around the area.”

“Yeah, maybe.” It was all too possible I was overthinking things. But when it came to things like that, a fair deal of suspicion was necessary. “Whatever the case, if such a request like that is out there, then I doubt the person last night will be the only one.

“It’s kind of an open secret among the circle you talk to that you’re the one behind the murder of those cops. I don’t blame you, plenty of people around here don’t like the police and I really do wish you well, but most people don’t have the privilege to do what you do. Most people don’t have the ability to murder those they see as committing an injustice. Not only that, but most people don’t have confidantes that would be willing to keep their secret. You know why?”

Great. Just what I wanted while I was at the bar with some good food and drinks: a lecture.

“If you’re going to tell me because it’s illegal, I’m going to argue that it’s only illegal if you don’t have a badge and a uniform. Most serial killers are the ones who are hired by the state and demand your respect.”

Her face lowered and she turned from me.

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not saying I disagree, just that the average person isn’t capable of doing such things, even if they wanted to. Even if they ignored the legality, it doesn’t matter. Just as you said, you’ve got got hordes willing to kill whoever they see fit without consequence, decked in highly-militarized outfits and weapons. Their numbers are too great, their power is too great, and if you even show the least bit resistance, they’ll throw in the rest of the military alongside them. So the best most of us can ask for is to avoid them as much as possible. But here you go, picking off anyone who rubs you the wrong way and not only do you manage to sneak on by and keep going, but it’s like you boast about it, too.”

“I don’t boast – I never said I enjoy it.”

“No, that’s not what I mean, sorry.”

“But you’re right: I am very fortunate. In the past, I’ve evaded my demise and have slaughtered entire armies that wished to pursue me. I’m not saying that to boast, though it is quite a feat, I admit. I’ve had a long life, a storied and bloody past, and I really wish I could stay out of trouble, but I just can’t seem to help myself. Old habits, I guess.”

“You’re not that old, are you? You don’t look much over thirty.”

I managed a chuckle.

“Would you believe me if I said I was well over five hundred years old?”

“Quit joking around.”

It’s not exactly wrong. I was born sometime early in the Sengoku period, but time travel sure does let you skip ahead a few years. There’s no way I could explain something like that, though.

“Let’s just say I’ve got a good skincare routine.”

That time, I was joking. There’s no way in hell that bathing in Lake Michigan would preserve your youth.

“Either way, I’m used to not sticking around places for very long. If things get too hot, I’ll leave town. So don’t worry about me,” I assured Wanda.

“I’d like it if it wouldn’t have to come to that,” she replied. “You’re a good customer, and make for good conversation.”

Well, I couldn’t say I wasn’t flattered, but hopefully she wouldn’t hold it against me if I did decide to ditch this place, reside elsewhere and try to lay low. Eventually I would have liked to settle down and be an old lady. Maybe knit sweaters in my spare time, or get a dog and a garden. Become the friendly old lady in the neighborhood that no one knows anything about.

None of that was likely. People like me weren’t meant to last long. As far as age went, I was already pushing it and as far as I knew, I really wasn’t much over thirty. It was just hard to tell where in my thirties, since my concept of time has been all screwed up.

I left the bar soon after. Despite my enjoyment of Wanda’s presence, my head just wasn’t as much in it as I thought it would be. So, still middle of the day, I returned to the docks, ready to get back to work.

I still don’t have the solution. Not enough power. Every time I think I’ve got a spark, it only lights one area. What I need is a lightning rod. Maybe I could stand one of my swords up to the roof to collect electricity. Or antennae. No. That still wouldn’t be enough, not without the right circuitry and places to send the electricity to. There’s more than one component and I can’t just do one without the other. If I’m lucky, there might be some generators downstairs I haven’t discovered. But even if I have to steal or build power generators, I want to give these places a semblance of a home. Some place to rest.

But even if I’m successful, it still wouldn’t be legal for them to reside there. What would I do, then? Fight off a whole force? Or would I run with the knowledge that I would be outnumbered? When I consider the eventual outcome, it was a futile effort and good intentions will only get me so far.

I shook my head as I entered the darkened building through an opening with a loose board. If that woman had been more attentive, she would have seen that not all of those boards were as well covered, and one of them actually served as a door.

Inside, an absence of light. I reached to my right and grabbed my helmet and katana which lay on top of a tall cabinet.

Upon placing the helmet on my head, I had a much clearer view of my surroundings. The infrared visor on my helmet allowed me to see in the dark, albeit some objects showed up blurry.

Outside, it was still light. Dusk wasn’t expected for another few hours. In other words, I had time. I could do my work in peace, take a little nap, not worry about anything. If no one was going to come after me until well after dark, then I could prepare.

So I did just that; I patrolled the area, climbed up each floor, checked out each room, then headed back down to the first floor. All around the first floor I searched for a hatch or a door, a flight of stairs, something that would lead to a basement. No such luck. It seemed that there were no passages, hidden or otherwise. No basement. No generators.

Maybe that’s what I’ll have to resort to. I’ll have to dig out a basement, fill it with concrete, get some generators built or setup...argh! Why is it so hard to get this going? I should just tell everyone, “sorry guys, I know I hate to make false promises, but looks like I just set my sights too high!”

I sunk down to the floor along a wall, right next to a door which would have led to someone’s office.

“Who am I kidding? It’ll be a miracle if I don’t leave before I get the chance to figure this out.”

I leaned my head over and soon felt the weight of the darkness creep up on me as it guided me to a gentle sleep.

When I awoke, I brought myself up to my feet and decided to climb up the many flight of stairs once more.

If I’m lucky, I’d like to at least get the elevator working. Something.

Short rests were all that were ever afforded to me. If I had gotten three hours or more, that was oversleep for me. With the way my body operated, perhaps adapted, I never worried myself with dreams. On the rare occasion where I had a dream, they were brief windows, photographs, still frames cascading down. Images of being beheaded. Of watching my head roll down into a river. Typical things like that. Such things weren’t memories, but just reminders of what should have been long ago.

Never mind. Several flights later, I saw the bits of collapsed roof on the floor. Above, the glow of the moon illuminated the floor. It was the only source of light I was afforded, save for the helmet.

So I see. It’s evening now.

“Damn, couldn’t she have found a different way in other than breaking down the roof? Now I’m going to have to repair that as well…”

If another came after me, I really hoped they wouldn’t drop down from the roof. That would make things too easy for me.

I’m going to consider that it’s still too early for something like that. Not that I have a watch or a phone, but I doubt it’s been night for very long. I just can’t imagine anyone attacking me until late into the night. Any time earlier and it would just be rude.

Just like the night before, I went down to where the top of the elevator was, along with the open panel in the wall. If I had to start somewhere, I figured I’d get done what I could. That was, if I could get anything done at all.

So as I crouched down and got to work, my helmet lifted as I did so. I struck a match and held it between my lips as I worked, plucking it out every now and then to help bind the wires together. There were two wires left with just a little bit of juice. I pulled out a pair of rubber gloves, then held the two wires together and rubbed them; as soon as there was a spark, I used the flame from the match to bind them together. Behind me, a couple rooms away, a light turned on.

Now let’s hope it stays on. Which reminds me: I need to get new light bulbs.

One day, if I ever got (or built) a generator and a basement to place it in, I would test the breaker board. It would be a beautiful sight if one day the whole building could light up. Even as it was, the light from the room remained and leaked out. I was impressed to see that it had stayed on.

Now if I flick the switch off, then on again, will it turn back on?

As I turned to work on the elevator, I was stopped in my place when I heard a thump in the distance. It could have been nothing. Those pipes were old, after all. The vents too.

But even if it was nothing, I had to check it out.

Down one flight of stairs, the sound of movement and creaks against the vents could be heard.

Could it be that I’ve got a guest?

That same sound continued in little spurts. Less noise, but still there. Unavoidable. I could tell, there was movement of some kind. Rat, pebble, raccoon, or a person. Further down the hallway, the sound grew closer, more pronounced. Little shimmies and brushes. Metallic clangs.

I stood in place as the sound seemed to be just above my head. I took off my helmet. No need for it.

“I know you’re up there,” I announced.

Silence. No more movement. Nothing.

Seconds went by. Still nothing.

Stillness passed through the air, and so I had no choice but to accept that I may have just been hearing the old building making noises.

I let out a heavy sigh. Defeat. So soon, too.

“Guess I was just hearing things. I’ll head back now.”

Still no sound of movement. How disappointing. I unsheathed my sword and flashed a toothy smile.

“...Just kidding,” I said before I plunged my katana into the vent and sliced the thing in half.

If there had been a person, or just a rat, surely they felt that.

As I did so, the noise of steel against steel, the grating being slashed apart couldn’t mask the undeniable sound of movement heading backward.

I held my katana up and dragged it against the ceiling as I walked toward the sound of someone retreating from within the vents.

Around the corner, I heard a drop, and the hard tap of a shoe against the floor.

So it was a person. And I missed. I really must be losing my touch.

As I approached, someone small and frail looking peeked out from the corner and threw a knife my way. I caught it between my fingertips and just as fast, threw it back. In a panic, the intruder let out a squeak and ducked back behind the corner, then picked up their knife and ran.

“Were you thinking you could kill me with that? Or were you planning on me blocking it, then running toward me with another knife, the thrown knife being a distraction?” My smile grew wider, almost a grin. It didn’t take much to know their strategy; too many times I’ve dealt with similar tactics. Smart, but amateurish.

Does this person really think they stand more of a chance than the person last night? Or are they just expecting to run around like this is some endurance test?

I wasn’t about to let them experience such a luxury. I ran after and watched as they almost got behind the door to an adjacent room, but before they could do so, I grabbed their wrist and held on tight. Once I pulled them forward, closer to me, it turned out the intruder was a young woman with wavy, green hair.

With my other hand, I raised my knife and readied myself to slice down against her arm.

She scowled, then with her free arm reached for my wrist to free herself. Before she could puncture me, I swung my blade down, at the same time let go of her wrist. Just in time, she jumped out of the way. I turned to make a quick slash, but she blocked it with her knife. Such a measly thing. All I had to do was push harder and it began to show little cracks.

She let go and jumped out of the way again.

“Nimble one, aren’t you?” I observed. Then she charged, but I moved out of the way. She tried to slash with her knife from the side, but I blocked it with my blade, then let go and kicked her to the floor.

Short on breath, she picked herself up. So far all of her efforts, while quick-witted, had been feeble at best.

“Let me ask you this: why do you want to kill me? Is there money involved?”

“I...I don’t want to kill you. That’s...that’s not why I came here,” she spoke, her voice rough, but high in pitch and she fixed her gaze on me as she tried to recover her breath.

“Then why?”

“I want to know who you are,” she answered.

That was such a ridiculous answer. But at least it was some kind of answer.

“I’m a serial killer,” I replied through my teeth. “I leave a trail of bodies in my wake. Sliced open, stabbed through the chest. Cut to ribbons. Does that answer your question?”

Her face turned to shock and she took a step back, but shook her head.

“No, I already knew that much from the request.”

“That again. The request to kill me, correct?”

She gave a nod.

“But I would rather not have to try. Not if you’re anything like who Sunny thought you were.”

“Sunny?”

“The one who tried to kill you last night and got herself beat real good. She thought you were –” I stopped her.

“Rhea?” I asked.

Another nod.

“What was so special about that name? There’s probably plenty of people in this city with that name.”

“Yes. And I looked up every single person with that name in Chicago. There were a lot more names than I thought, and not all of them were happy about receiving a phone call from a stranger.”

…

“Are you a dunce? Did you really?”

“Yes.”

I snorted. I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of someone actually doing that. I sunk down to the wall and sat.

“Sit,” I commanded. “And if you try anything funny, I will kill you.”

Wordless, she crouched down and sat against the wall across from me.

“So what does that name mean to you?” I questioned.

“Nothing. But it means plenty to a few of the people around me. Rhea Flection, they call her. Apparently she was both feared and admired. Some people want her dead, or revenge on her, others just seem to wish they could see her in action. My cousin and her wife were apparently one of her targets. Someone I admire apparently worked in the same company as her. Says that she died. Yet all these other people keep bringing her up.”

Damn. That name. So it really was the same one that I knew.

“Heh,” I leaned my head back. Absurd as it was, I not only stopped the fight, but also let my guard down. “I wonder if I’ll have my own fan club as well when I die.”

“I take it to mean that you’re not her?” She asked, something which I would have thought was obvious.

“You mean that socially awkward iceberg? No. I’m not her.”

“Iceberg?” She tilted her head, which made me wonder just how much she actually knew.

“You’d have to have been there.”

“So I take it you knew her?”

“Yes. We worked in the same company. But that’s ancient history. For the record, I’m Wendy Day. You?”

“Demetria. What kind of name is that, by the way?”

“I picked it out because I wanted an English sounding name, and it sounds like ‘windy day’. Not very clever, I know. I used to be called Mizue Soyokaze, but I threw that name away long ago, along with the rest of my younger self.”

“Cool. Lore. Can I sit next to you?” She asked, rather sudden, too.

“Go ahead. But I’ll remind you not to get any ideas.”

She got up and as she approached me, she looked away, ashamed or uneasy.

“I probably should have tried to kill you, seeing as I don’t want you to go around killing people, but I was more focused on getting some kind of answers,” she said as she sat down. Then turned away from me. I took it to mean she was shy.

“You don’t want me to go around killing people?” I scoffed. “I don’t want me to go around killing people. I’ve tried to put this life behind me, not get myself into trouble, but then I see others do things that I just can’t abide by.”

“Like what?” She asked, and her voice quivered. If only I had dragged out the battle, maybe she would have shown more bravery.

“Sexual abusers, for starters, but that should be obvious. Then there’s people like landlords and debt collectors who couldn’t care less if they let others die in the name of money. Greedy fucks all around. Still, I can’t catch everyone out there, only the ones that I see. Even then, I try not to let my blood boil, not let it get to me. I try to sit by, abide by the law, but then I witness a child running around with a toy gun with his best friend playing some kind of game, like cops and robbers. Then an actual cop comes and shoots the kid dead, a cruel irony. Said cop walks off, no remorse or recourse, all the while that kid just wanted to play and now their life ended. That I can’t abide by.”

“Wow,” she mouthed.

“But, in case you start thinking I’m some savior, acting only in the name of justice, let me remind you that I’m a murderer and violence is what I know. If anything, I find excuses to take lives, not unlike some of the people I so despise. It’s not even so much a craving or an addiction, but I don’t think this world will ever grow kind, and neither will I.”

“But why did you ever start?”

“Because,” I began. I had to pause, and I thought to myself, wait. Am I really going to go through my life story with a stranger I assumed wanted to kill me? Fuck it. I’m doing this. “I’m all too familiar with authority abusing their power. Back in my old life, when I was young and still had a family, there was a high ranking member of society who was found dead, a puncture wound through their chest. I was blamed for it, an unassuming girl who stayed home all the time and helped out with her family. But once I was accused, that same family disowned me, regardless of whether or not I had actually committed such a thing.”

“Did you?”

“No. But that didn’t matter, I was just a commoner, so my word didn’t mean much, and there was less proof that I didn’t than proof that I did, even if either way was inconclusive. Regardless, I was set to be executed; beheaded, actually. Two men with swords beside me, one in front. All against my throat. However, I managed to fight back and steal the two men’s swords, then cut them all down. After that, I hid out in an abandoned shack. Later on, I found out who the real killer had been and killed him myself. After, I fled. That didn’t stop me from being pursued, but I cut anyone down who dared to try.”

“That’s kinda badass,” she commented. I had to stop her right there.

“No, just bad. My life should have ended that day, as the person I am now was the person I was once accused of being. But no matter how many close calls I’ve had, I’m still here, like some kind of cockroach.”

“And your company?” She asked, and I knew where her real focus was.

“They picked me up a few years back, though in my mind it was centuries ago. They told me that they could offer me protection, be paid to take out those who would abuse their authority. By then, I knew it was only a matter of time, with whole armadas after me. So I accepted.”

“I see.”

“Do you know what we did in that company?” I pondered.

“I get the gist of it. It’s unpleasant, but I can’t just fault everyone when I don’t know them.”

“Huh. Interesting answer.”

I stared down at my blade, then sheathed it. It had been a while, but not unheard of, since I just...sat next to a would-be victim and heard them out. I kind of missed it, as often when it did happen, I would end up sparing said person and coming to a better understanding of them.

“Say, back when you worked there, did you know of someone named Remora?” She asked again.

Remora...Remora...does that ring any bells? No, I don’t think it does.

“No, sorry,” I replied.

“Uh...shivers a lot, always cold, doesn’t understand people well. Looks kind of like you, except not really. I mean, your guys’ faces and hair is totally different.”

“Oh, you mean Rhea,” I corrected, as there was no other person I could think of who was like that.

“No, no. Her name’s Remora. She says she knew of Rhea, but was never in the same place as her.”

Hmm...that was a curious thing, all right.

“Sorry, but I don’t think there was anyone named Remora, but you definitely described Rhea. One time, we were all at the bar, and she ordered a screwdriver. So I watched as she sat alone at a table and she pulled out an actual screwdriver. I watched her lick the screw driver, make a disgusted face, then looked around to make sure no one saw her. But I saw everything.”

“Is there a difference in taste?” Demetria asked, and I really had to wonder how someone so dense could exist.

“That’s not the point. The point is that she may have been this serious person who wanted to be left alone, but she was also just a total oddball. Even her attempts to be serious could be odd sometimes. Like one time, she tried to do this verbal takedown on a guy named Douglas Fir by listing out all his negative traits in alphabetical order.”

“I don’t think I could do that, but then again sometimes I wonder if I’m dyslexic,” she replied. Again, not the point.

“Whatever the case may be, I didn’t really think of her that much at the time, other than a few notable occurrences, but looking back, I kinda miss her. Then again, I miss most everyone in that company. Save the really shitty ones, but that’s neither here nor there. I know we were all eccentric amoral people, but it was like a community to me, and it felt like the closest thing I had to a home at the time.”

Really, I could reminisce for days.

“There was this other woman, Aurora B, and I suppose her, Rhea, and I could’ve been a ‘dream team’ except if put in a group, one of us would have killed the other two rather fast, thus negating the need for a group. Aurora because she wouldn’t be able to get us all to cooperate, Rhea because she prefers to work alone and would probably use her teammates as bait, and I’d probably notice something about the both of them that wouldn’t sit right with me and decide they’re both scum. Still, the idea is fun.”

“Wait, Aurora B? There’s an Aurora B in the arctic! She’s got a train and a band of thieves! I stabbed her and she robbed the restaurant I worked at!”

I blinked, then burst into laughter.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! There’s a version of her in this timeline and I bet she’s still just as rowdy! Oh, that must be fun!”

“What? Version of? This timeline?” She seemed confused.

“Yeah, like, you know, time travel and all that. Multiple universes, multiple versions of the same person.” I was surprised she knew about the company and yet didn’t know about that.

“I never considered that…” she muttered, then got up. “I think I’ll take off now. Thank you for that.”

“What? Already?”

“Yeah, I’ll just say that you were too strong for me and leave it at that.”

“Well if that’s all you needed, you should’ve just come by in the daytime. We could’ve had a nice chat over pizza.”

She waved goodbye, as if I wasn’t some dangerous force of nature, and I continued to sit and shake my head.

“I must be getting soft. First I injured someone rather than killed them, then I let the second person just walk away unscathed, and we had a nice little chat. I’m betting the third person who comes by I’ll end up buying them a drink.”

I couldn’t help but imagine the insanity of it all. My howls and laughter echoed through the almost empty building.

Once I calmed myself down, I stared up at the ceiling. How I wished I could fix up the place. Now I had to fix up the vents as well. There was always one more problem.

“What about you?” I addressed my last guest of the evening. “Have you come to kill me or just to chat?”

In one of the nearby rooms, a door opened up. Soon a figure approached me, a long rifle in hand.

“I’ll be quick. I just wanted to confirm that you were who I thought you were,” replied a low, icy voice.

“What, did you stalk her? Were you listening in on the whole thing?” Whoever said guest was, I would have at least liked a knock or something.

“No to the first one. Yes to the second.”

Direct. I liked that, at least.

“So what about the gun? I take it you’re the only person so far who even stands a chance against me.”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

“Mm,” I mulled it over. “I see. So I take it you know who I am already, but that’s what bothers me. I don’t seem to know who you are.”

“Yes. I’m not sure if you ever saw me. I was never around at the same time she was. I couldn’t have been. For the most part, I was kept isolated from most everybody else. Not that I minded.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t have. So, why Remora?” I wondered. “You’ve got over a thousand different names, don’t you? Couldn’t you have started a new life with one of those?”

“It’s because...I met someone important to me the day I chose that name.”

I shrugged. “Who am I to judge? One time an old man decided to call me Trout. True story.”

It didn’t take much for me to figure out what was going on. Who I was talking to.

“So you’re an alternate version, huh?” I asked. Rhetorical, I know.

“Yes. I am younger than she was, but I went through similar things and took on missions all the same.”

“They used you like a back up, I take it. In case the main one died. Which is what happened. Doesn’t that disgust you?”

“It is what it is.”

Right. Such emotionless responses.

“In a way, though, it’s relieving. Knowing that there’s a version of her that’s still around and can experience freedom, like me.”

“I’m just a version of myself. I’m me. Not her.”

“But you do share several names and a background, yes?”

“She was irresponsible. She knew what her job was and she got tired of it, so she died. That’s all. She didn’t even have to, she just wanted to. Yet people won’t shut up about her when she was never worth the attention to begin with,” she growled, working up a rant. It seemed I actually struck something of a nerve.

“Hey, that’s my friend you’re talking about. Don’t talk about my friend that way,” I shot back.

“You two weren’t friends,” she scoffed. I wondered if that was the most mad she had been in a while.

“I just decided that we were. Seeing as she’s not alive to object, I think I can make that decision,” I gave a sly grin.

“That’s not how that works. Did you two even talk?”

I lifted up my index finger and closed my eyes.

“Once. Just once.”

“About what?”

“Some guy was bothering her and she was uncomfortable, that much I could tell. She also looked ready to break a bottle over his head, and I wasn’t really interested in a fight breaking out. I think I said something like, ‘is he bothering you, queen?’ Then pushed him aside. She looked confused, asked ‘queen?’ And I think I laughed and said not to worry about it. I remember she thanked me, and chattered her teeth while trying to sound out the words to do so. I told her not to mention it and offered to help her with anything if she ever came to me.”

“And?”

“Needless to say, she never came to me. I think when I told her that, she said something like, ‘thanks, I’ll think about it’ while turning her head from side to side, so she probably wasn’t ever going to consider it. But makes me wonder about what could’ve been. Like maybe it would’ve changed something.”

“It wouldn’t. There’s nothing you could have done. That’s just how she was,” she replied, all brisk and choppy.

“Yeah, I guess so. Still –”

“Shut up about her,” she snapped, although her voice didn’t even manage to raise all that much. I could just tell with her gestures. The shake of her fist. Everywhere shook, in fact, like it was more than just a shiver.

“It bothers you that much, huh? Is it the name, or just being reminded?” I really wasn’t trying to push any buttons. I didn’t even realize there were any buttons to push. But I guess that’s what I needed to expect, with there being differences and all.

“No. I’m not bothered. It’s just a name. Just someone who’s not around anymore. That’s just why I think people should shut up about it. That person’s gone. Gone. Poof.”

Real convincing.

“Is it because it feels like you’re constantly being compared to with another version of yourself? Or how people might see her as a superior version of you?”

I waited for a response. When I got none, I figured I hit the nail on the head.

“I’m me. Just me. I’m the only version of me there is,” she concluded. Less robotic, but still choppy. Almost downtrodden in her tone.

That’s fine as long as you believe that.

“What about that friend of yours? Demetria?”

“We’re not friends.”

“But she’s important to you, isn’t she?”

“In a way.”

“So you care about her, then?”

“No.”

“Were you worried I was going to kill her if she found me, so you followed behind?”

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

Oh bother. It was fun at first, but now it’s like I was talking to a child.

“That whole aloof thing you got going isn’t a very good look for you,” I lectured.

“I’m not aloof.”

“Sure Jan,” I looked over and replied. “Look, I used to be like you, so I get it. I wanted to do everything on my own and I didn’t have much to share with others. But I’ve been blessed to have met a few good people here and there. I’ve survived due in part to the kindness of others.”

“Well…” She thought it over. “I don’t want to be aloof.”

“Bark like a dog, then,” I commanded.

To my surprise, she did just that: her best impression of a dog barking, anyway. I expected more of a Shiba Inu, but instead it came out as a yip, like a Chihuahua.

I cracked up; burst into laughter. Sides split and everything.

“Now you’re a woof,” I told her.

She growled, and I was inclined to say like a dog, as well.

“I hate you, you know that?” She whined.

“Aw, but I thought you loved puns,” I teased.

Changing the subject, she went back to a topic I thought would make her uncomfortable.

“By the way, do you even know what her last job was?”

Probably referring to the R-word.

“No. I was already here doing my own thing when it happened, so I never got to find out,” I explained.

“Well, if you ever want to know, I can give you Ves’ number.”

OK. Someone I don’t know about. Not useful at all.

“Why? Is she single?”

“Stop that. She’s got a cute wife.”

“Oh? Cute?” I should’ve told her I wasn’t really interested in either, as I knew she was the type to take everything seriously. “Like Demetria?”

“She’s cute too, yes.”

“So you admitted it,” I observed.

“Objectively speaking, anyway. Besides, that’s not the point – Ves was the one who killed her. She could fill you in better than I could.”

I see. She should’ve explained that sooner. I looked over and blinked.

“I don’t have a phone.”

She stared as well, then said, “oh.”

“Well, look: I’m working at this diner in the arctic for these people named Sunny and Ray. They thought I would be fun to work with, and not, well...me,” it seemed like Remora was just trying to proposition me with something, anything. I didn’t understand why. “So if you want to sometime, you could go up there. You’re probably more what they were looking for to begin with.”

I shook my head.

“No thanks. The cold’s your thing. I’m not really tied down to a motif. Besides, I’m a homeless old bat. How do you expect me to get up there?”

“I don’t know. You’re resourceful.”

True. I couldn’t deny that bit. Before I could answer, I started to cough. Like a tickle or a scratch at the back of my throat.

I leaned over and covered my mouth with my fist. Remora looked down.

“Are you sick?”

“Why do you care?” I smiled, even as I continued to cough.

“I don’t, but if you are, I don’t want to catch anything.”

As soon as she said that, the cough went away.

“Don’t worry. It’s not something you can catch.”

“What is it, then?”

If you or a loved one have been diagnosed with meso – no, it’s not that. I don’t think so, anyway.

“Sometimes a cough is just a cough. I’m getting old, anyway. I might die any day now.”

“Somehow I doubt it. You’re like a cockroach.”

“Yeah, but even cockroaches aren’t immortal,” I reminded her.

There was a moment of silence. That moment grew. Nothing more was said. Nothing more that I could recall. I soon drifted off to sleep, the silence having consumed me. In spite of the intrusions, I think I got the deepest sleep I had in a while.

#writing #stories #fiction #action #drama #crime #noir #remoras full #scifi #swords

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ericdeggans · 4 years

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A Tale of Two Videos: Why the Images of George Floyd Dying Broke the Nation

Why is the footage of George Floyd dying beneath a policeman’s knee the video that finally broke the nation?

I actually think the story of our current public chaos stems from two videos, brought to the public at nearly the same time, that outline both ends of a system which elevates white, moneyed people at the expense of everyone else -- especially those of us who are darker than blue.

In one, a white woman threatens a black man by telling him she will call the police and lie about him threatening her life. In another, a black man is pinned down by several police officers, pleading for help to breathe, until he dies.

One video shows the nightmare of overpolicing black bodies; losing your life because a store clerk thought you tried to pay with a counterfeit bill. The other shows a white woman well aware of the power that such overpolicing gives people like her when she calls 9-1-1. She knows – and assumes the black man she’s threatening also knows – whose interests will be defended, possibly with lethal force, when officers arrive.

Amy Cooper’s confrontation with Christian Cooper and the death of George Floyd have revealed the full scope of white supremacy non-white people live with every day in America. We have been talking about it for a long time; I wrote a book about it in 2012. But it is a reality many other Americans will not believe, until someone grabs a cellphone at a fateful moment, records it, and shows it to them. Again and again.

Because we have seen these videos before. We saw Philando Castile, a black man filmed in his last moments by his girlfriend, shot by a police officer during a traffic stop. We saw John Crawford, a black man who was going to buy a pellet gun at WalMart, shot to death by police within seconds of their arrival at the store after a 9-1-1 call. We saw 12-year-old Tamir Rice, playing with a toy gun in a park, gunned down within seconds of a police car driving on the scene.

We saw Levar Jones, a black man who survived being shot by a cop during a traffic stop at a gas station as he was retrieving his license (the reason the cop stopped him? He was driving without a seat belt just before turning into the gas station.)

Eric Garner. Darrien Hunt. Botham Jean. The list of black people hurt or killed by police under suspicious circumstances is long and infuriating. How can a white college student suspected in the murders of two people who inspired a nationwide manhunt get taken into custody without incident, while a black man accused of passing a bad $20 bill winds up dead on a street, killed in broad daylight while cellphone cameras captured it all?

Beyond the frustration of the rising body count, there is frustration at the high price America demands before it will believe there is a problem in the first place.

People of color constantly have to rip open their wounds to prove to white America that racism is killing us. The videos are a blur of bottomless tragedy; a parade of pain where victims are often left screaming at officers: What did I do? Why won’t you help me?

And every time a new video emerges, black America asks that same question of the nation.

The challenge we face is summed up in a statistic from my book. I quoted a September 2011 study which found 46 percent of Americans believe discrimination against white people had become as big a problem as discrimination against racial minorities.

A study published in November 2017 by NPR, the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation and Harvard University’s T.H. Chan School of Public Health came up with different numbers. In that study, 55 percent of white Americans said discrimination against white people exists and 63 percent of white Americans said local police were just as likely to use unnecessary force against white people as non-white people.

This is the question at the heart of so many political and social conflicts in America: The fight over the very existence of systemic racism and prejudice.

It’s one reason conservative-oriented Fox News Channel is often so tone deaf on issues of race. Many of the channel’s pundits resist the idea that systemic racism against people of color is a serious issue. Lots of conservatives have decried George Floyd’s death; but the question of whether that death is a result of a few bad cops acting out or a result of systemic overpolicing and overpunishing people of color is the real dividing line in this crisis.

When Fox News anchor Tucker Carlson interviewed Ted Cruz on the unrest in Minneapolis, both men were careful to note they were horrified by the actions of one officer, while extolling the bravery of most police officers. But what about the notion that police officers work inside a flawed system that can shield bad cops and make it tougher for good officers, regardless of their race, to stop something terrible as it is happening?

This “one bad apple” idea – a notion expertly dismantled by comedian Chris Rock years ago – was also advanced by White House National Security Advisor Robert O’Brien Sunday on Jake Tapper’s CNN show State of the Union.

“I don’t think there’s systemic racism,” O’Brien said during one exchange with Tapper, before praising “99.9 percent” of police officers. “But you know what, there are some bad apples in there.”

Given all the videos we all have seen of black people hurt or killed unfairly by law enforcement in recent years, that sure seems like a lot of bad apples. And again the question rises: How many videos do you need to see, before you consider another possibility? How much pain leads to contemplating another explanation?

Of course, Donald Trump has only made a volatile situation worse. I think his actions are summed up by a phrase I read or heard someone else say about him years ago: He can’t help saying the quiet part out loud.

So when Trump tweeted about the unrest in Minneapolis on Friday, he called protestors “thugs” – a word sometimes used as demeaning code for unruly black people – and dropped the phrase “when the looting starts, the shooting starts.” That’s a saying traced back to a speech by 1960s-era Miami police chief Walter Headley, often accused of racist policing tactics during the civil rights era.

In another tweet, Trump promised protestors who came close to breaching the White House fence would be “greeted with the most vicious dogs, and most ominous weapons,” invoking another terrible image from the 1960s, when segregationist police would use attack dogs to break up civil rights marches.

The quiet part. Tweeted out loud.

As cable TV news was filled with reports on looting and unrest in cities across the country, I was struck by a tweet from celebrity comic Chelsea Handler, who posted “Something for all white people to think about. Reflect on our privilege and ask ourselves if we’ve ever had to protest for the lives of our white brothers and sisters.”

With all respect, I suggested something a little different. Perhaps white people should find one element in their lives that supports or reflects white supremacy: that Fox News-loving relative, the pal who posts terrible things on Facebook or the boss/coworker who says awful things about non-white people when he thinks they aren’t listening (guess what: we usually know, anyway).

Find one element and do something to address it. Do what you can to dismantle the system where you can.

Beyond that, governmental leaders of all stripes need to learn that platitudes and the “one bad apple” philosophy will not satisfy people who feel like an endangered species in their own country.

Don’t make us rip open another wound to prove something we have been telling you for a long time. Maybe this time, when black people say they need help, you could just listen. And then help.

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buggre-alle-this-for-a-larke · 4 years

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I was having this conversation the other day and it really got me thinking. Most of that which we have constructed as basic fact about Remus Lupin, does not exist in canon (and I think that’s pretty sexy of it).

I’ve shoved it under a read more because it’s a little longer than I anticipated.

Chocolate Fiend. Starting off strong with this one, We never see Remus eat a single square of chocolate. The only chocolate we ever see him with is that which is given away as a result of a dementor attack. I don’t think that Remus having chocolate on him on the Hogwarts Express was an accident - given that he’d know the carriages would have to go past the dementors to get into the school grounds (and his life was horrid,I can’t imagine he was unaffected by the flying hell-beasts), and every other time, chocolate to stop Harry becoming a quivering mess on the floor was probably what he spent most of his teachers wages on. (because it was new robes was it Lupin). But there is actually no evidence to support the idea that Remus loves chocolate.

Bookworm. Another strong one. We see Remus read one (1) book, throughout the entire series and that book is the text book of the class he has an important exam for in like an hour. He even then he tried to give this book to Sirius to test him on transfiguration so really he’s not even reading the bloody thing. My mate pointed out that we could have collectively decided he’s a bookworm because we actively seek similarities between the Marauders (those that didn’t turn out to be the literal worst person on earth) and the golden trio - with Remus obviously sharing the similarities with Hermione. I thought this was bloody accurate so I’m sticking to that theory.

Tall. David Thewlis looks like a piece of blue tack that someones stretched too far, but Remus’ height is never once mentioned throughout the books. Considering he’s frequently seen standing next to Sirius, Whose vast height is mentioned every time Harry sets eyes on him, we can assume that it’s because it’s not much to write home about. Remus is probably average height, and doing it so fabulously.

Scarred. These exist in the films of course, but I’m going by book here. Harry points out every characters scars, and yet points out only the grey in Remus’ hair and the lines by his eyes (harsh really). Theres never any hint that Remus is visibly scarred. {On a side note, this is something that really confuses me within the books. Remus says himself that as a child locked in the shrieking shack he used to rip and tear at himself. It’s also Remus who points out to everyone ,once Bill’s been attacked, that wounds from werewolves do not heal very well and so Bill will be scarred. Where are yours then Loops?}

Excellent father figure. This one hurts me to write because like sure, but also not really. He was an excellent mentor to Harry, but as a father figure he fell dramatically short. He kept Harry at arms length the entire time he knew him - he hugged the kid one time in his life and that was when his own son was born. He also threw Harry against a fucking wall. Whether he was right to do so or not, he did it. Remus had excellent POTENTIAL to be Harry’s father figure, and he clearly cares about Harry A LOT. He just doesn’t seem to want Harry to see that. Most of this likely stems from the fact that he was Harry’s teacher for a year, and without going full Miss Honey and rollerskating around Grimmauld Place with him, it might have been a bit strange (or rather, He thought it’d be strange and giving Harry more attention than he wanted from him because of that whole set esteem issue)

Drinks more tea than Buckingham Palace on a bank holiday. I see the concept that Remus drinks tea all the time, and I think it comes down to the tea really suiting the aesthetic we’ve decided to bequeath onto him. In canon, of course, he drinks one cup of tea whilst he was working. I do that, I wouldn’t say tea drinking is a massive part of my personality… but maybe I’m wrong. You know what Remus does drink multiple times throughout the series? Wine. He also drinks eggnog at one point, why haven’t we decided he loves that because THAT is interesting.

*uwo soft angel boy* I don’t really have any concrete arguments against this one because I don’t really understand how we got here. Remus is nearly as much of a git as his friends, he literally tells us as much (multiple times), and as an adult he’s many things but soft angel boy is definitely not one of them. He’s diplomatic, kind and compassionate but he’s also a veteran. After the battle of the 7 Potters, he tells Harry that whilst he shouldn’t aim to kill necessarily he needed to start aiming to do damage - He survived one war and got down to the last couple of hours of the next the chances he that he killed or at least really injured someone are pretty high.

This got a little out of hand again didn’t it. Basically, most perceptions of Fanon!Remus don’t really hold up when you try to find the proof for them in canon so, and get this, DO WHAT YOU LIKE. GO NUTS.

Remus Lupin belongs to you now, take good care of him and don’t forget to water him.

#Remus Lupin #Fanon vs Canon Remus #Remus is yours now #and here's the proof

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exhakunobest · 4 years

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Fate/EXTELLA ZERO Plot

Original text from http://www.typemoon.org/bbb/diary/log/201611.html

translation from: https://forums.nrvnqsr.com/showthread.php/5875-The-BAMBOO-BROOM-DIARY-%28Nasu-and-Takeuchi-blog%29?p=2540101&viewfull=1#post2540101

Fate/EXTRA/EXTELLA Character Outline ※ There's only one route, so Nero takes the role of saving, guiding, and helping Hakuno grow. Don't forget that this is a boy-meets-girl story. ・ Kishinami Hakuno (Protagonist) The archetypal protagonist who wakes up in SE.RA.PH to find himself caught up as a participant in the Holy Grail War. He has memories of life (daily school life), but no other memories. His abilities are extremely mediocre as a wizard. Fortunately, he has a personality that never gives up, holds no grudges, and always tries to do the right thing. Miraculously, he attains victory. In short, he's someone who can't quit. 　→→ First Spoiler (revealed in the middle and later half of the story) His identity is the same as that of the NPCs on campus, merely "recreated data from past humans." (It is less expensive for the Moon Cell to model NPCs after past humans, but the Moon Cell fundamentally cannot understand humans (intelligent life forms)) He gained a self and passed the preliminary round as a human, so he was registered as a Master. 　→→ Second Spoiler (revealed at the end of the story) The human he was recreated from is in cold sleep on Earth, neither alive nor dead. This is why the NPC managed to gain an ego and autonomy. (This has to do with where souls reside in TYPE-MOON, but that isn't explained in this story.) ・ Saber (Nero) The Servant who was summoned in response to Hakuno's call. (Summoning details are in Material, under Saber's entry.) A female knight who acts as she pleases and whole-heartedly glorifies life. Her speech and attitude are pompous, but at her core, she respects all that is beautiful. She appears condescending, but actually reacts to most things with a "wow, that's amazing. How impressive! But I won't lose, either!" attitude. Her physical abilities are below average for a Servant, but her Skill "Imperial Privilege" is powerful. A true genius displays her talents in all areas. Red Saber's strength can be considered her ability to learn anything that is possible through human levels of effort or talent. Saber is reluctant to reveal her true name. It is not because she wishes to conceal her identity as the infamous tyrant Nero, but because she is afraid that Hakuno will dislike or be disappointed with her if he knows her name. During the fifth round, she moves past this hesitation and reveals it herself. ・ Girl Classmate (Female Protagonist) A girl who occasionally crosses paths with Hakuno, leaving him a casual word of advice. She's always eating a noodle sandwich. She wasn't in the PSP version, so the audience would misread her as "a new heroine!?" 　→→ 　Spoiler (Round 7) The same entity as Hakuno. Personnel data: a NPC created by SE.RA.PH, modeled after Kishinami Hakuno. However, she was configured as a female due to overlapping identity. She gained an ego in connection with the same event for Hakuno, and advanced as a Master. (※ She didn't gain a soul. Hakuno gained a soul, and the aftermath of this awakened her ego.) Because her data was modified further after recreation, she quickly becomes aware that she is not a legitimate being. As a degraded copy, she cannot withstand the installation of an ego (soul), so she is destined to disintegrate. (※ Even if she wins the seventh round, she will then disappear. Only Archer deduces this.) ・Archer (Nameless) The Female Protagonist's Servant. He is a Servant summoned to a Master without a soul, so his summoning circumstances are also irregular. Half of his body is crumbling and burned. Knowing the Female Protagonist's situation, he helps her fight to the bitter end. 　→ Every time Hakuno is alone and in a pinch, Archer saves him. As for why he does this, if Hakuno dies, so does the female protagonist. Archer is trying to give his Master a conclusion where she doesn't lose until the very end, and accepts her end even though she couldn't survive. 　→→ Archer is partially destroyed, so Nero and Tamamo don't recognize him in the world of EXTELLA. Also, the Nameless that appears in EXTELLA comes from a world where the Female Protagonist won. ・ Rin & Rani Fewer appearances than in the PSP version, but their position is unchanged. ・ Leo The heir to the Western European Conglomerate. A perfect prince. The strongest foe in the PSP version. His role is the same in the PSP version, but this time he is defeated in the sixth round. 　→→ Foreshadowing Out of curiosity, Leo talks to Kishinami Hakuno many times, but several of the conversations are inconsistent. "Oh, didn't we talk about this before?" "Yes, I'm interested in you, too." He says things like that, because he's interacted with the Female Protagonist in the same way. Leo loses to the Female Protagonist in the sixth round, so this time, he realizes that the Female Protagonist has the potential to defeat him. ・ Saber (Gawain) Leo's Servant. Unchanged from the PSP version. ・ Julius Leo's older brother. An assassin who handles the dirty work. On Earth, he doesn't have much time left to live. He eliminates Leo's enemies without regard for his own survival. His position is unchanged from the PSP version. He is openly hostile to Hakuno, and is Hakuno's greatest rival. Julius' special animosity towards Hakuno (and the Female Protagonist) is because Hakuno is the same type of person as Julius. On a deeply subconscious level, Julius rejects the notion that a normal person, possessing nothing and chosen by nobody, could rise to become Leo's greatest enemy. It also stems from Julius' irritation that he was unable to do the same. ・ Assassin (Li Shuwen) Julius' Servant. Position is unchanged from the PSP version. ・ Matou Shinji ・ Rider (Drake) The opponent in the first round, which has the theme of fighting a friend. Unchanged from the PSP version. ・ Atrum The opponent in the fourth round. His Servant is Caster (Tamamo no Mae). A new Master for the EXTRA storyline that was reorganized for EXTELLA. A user of sacrificial magic that kills and creates life. Acquainted with Leo on Earth. In the world of EXTRA where fossil fuel resources have run dry, he lacks the cockiness and carelessness of his Fate/stay night counterpart. However, his basic personality is the same. A self-proclaimed feminist, but it's obvious in reality that he views women only as tools. He speaks respectfully to Caster, but also looks down on her. After the Moratorium of Round 4, he sends Caster to seduce Hakuno (to gain his sympathy). "You don't need win the boy over. As long as you can ensnare him, it'll be a windfall for us." "Me? I have things to do. Dirty jobs are a Servant's duty, right?" Casko wearily follows his order, replying "By your command." After dispatching Casko, Atrum accesses a proprietary hidden circuit to Earth to find data on Kishinami Hakuno, but fails to turn up anything. This troubles him. After Atrum loses to Hakuno in their duel, Atrum uses Caster as a scapegoat to avoid the destruction of his own body, and flees. After he escapes from the firewall, he is dealt with by Julius or the Moon Cell. ・ Caster (Tamamo no Mae) Appears as Atrum's Servant. From the start, she is aware that she is expendable to Atrum, but she does not resist fulfilling their pact. (Of course, if Atrum were to sever their contract, it would be a different story.) When she comes to Hakuno on Atrum's orders to seduce him, Hakuno asks, "...Umm, I don't understand why you're doing this," which confuses her. Fox: "I suppose, in short, that my Master's naive strategy is to have me drown you in my charms and end you in your sleep. Failing that, sympathy might still move you to carelessness during your final duel..." Having heard Casko's circumstances and taking issue with them, Hakuno becomes serious. Hakuno: "Have a seat, Caster." Hakuno kneels across from Caster. Casko does the same. Hakuno begins to give her a stern lecture out of concern for her well-being. This is the first event that leads to Caster falling in love. After their duel, Casko burns away, as Atrum's scapegoat. The protagonist then uses his Command Spell to try and save her. Casko is restored, without a scratch. "Ah, I'm finally free!" The way she easily withstands the assault of the firewall is similar to Arcueid's scene. Afterwards, she cooperates with Hakuno as his (self-declared) true Servant. Nero: "Damn you -- who let this raccoon- no, this fox into our den!?" Fox: "That's obvious. As if the curse of a third-rate Master could roast me!" ・ Dan ・ Archer (Robin) The opponent in the second round, which has the theme of defeating one's senior and mentor in life. Position is unchanged from the PSP version. ・ Twice Pieceman The final Master who awaits Hakuno in front of the Moon Cell's core, after the seventh round. Position is unchanged from the PSP version. However, to make his appearance less sudden, he would appear frequently throughout the story. ※ He could also interact with the Female Protagonist instead of Hakuno. PART II Continuing on... 　　◆ ■ Reorganization ※ This is basically meant to be a shorter version of the plot, so it only contains the essentials. Unfortunately, I have to cut the excess fat. ※ That said, in the end this is a reorganization of the Nero route. There are differences from the Tamamo no Mae and Nameless routes. For example, in the Tamamo route, the event that occurs on the path to the core is completely opposite. ・ Awakening ~ Preliminary Round ~ Servant Summoning From the top... "A girl falls on the water's surface, lying face up. It's the Female Protagonist before she disappears, after losing to Hakuno in the sixth round." This scene would be interesting to include. The audience would be misled to believe she was someone who died in the preliminaries, but the truth would be revealed in after the sixth round. ※ This is just meant to be a surprise scene, without any bearing on the story. It doesn't have to be included. The protagonist notices the incongruity in school life, escapes from the Inside of the World (the Inside of the Texture), fights a doll, and summons a Servant. Unchanged from the introduction to the PSP version. ・ Round 1, Beginning Round 1 begins while the mood is still carefree, while explaining SE.RA.PH., the Moon Cell, the Holy Grail War, and the state of Earth. The atmosphere of Round 1 is "this is a game," "this is a proxy war," and "this feels like a game." The opponent in the first round is announced. Hakuno faces Shinji. → In the PSP version, the opponent in each round was announced on a bulletin board, but if we have the budget, I'd like to make it more flashy this time. We could show the audience the tournament brackets and where each character is. Also, the Masters can casually face off in in the halls, and we can also have Casko smugly appear. ・ Round 1, Conclusion Events from the competition against Shinji, to the elevator ride, until the final duel. Demonstrates that this isn't a game, but rather a ruthless battle for survival. Drake: "Don't you all realize that you were dead as soon as you got here?" They were all a great herd of fools lured in by the colorful promise that their wishes would be granted. Of course, some were staking their lives on the competition, but the majority of them had been deceived. Even Hakuno is troubled. "What reason and wish do I have for fighting in this war for survival?" 　　→→ Point It left a bad taste in his mouth to join this tournament with neither convictions nor goals, and fight his own friend. It struck him that unmindful murder and innocent fights to the death → Real death. Shinji: "I thought it just granted wishes! Why do I have to die!?" Drake: "Look, that's just what it means to live. All people are unaware that they trample on the wishes of others." ・ Round 2 The heartbroken protagonist fights Dan, the old soldier. The old man who fights with regrets about his life, and the Heroic Spirit Robin who died in regret. ・ Round 3 Round 3 is unchanged from the PSP version. After Hakuno wins, his next opponents Atrum and Casko appear to put on haughty airs. "You face us next, oh ho ho." ・ Round 4 Atrum is a character related to both Leo and Earth, so he serves the supporting but important role of explaining much of the setting, such as the state of Earth, and how it ended in the 2030s. Atrum affects goodwill, taking the "you should lose, so that I can live to save the world" approach to sway Hakuno's resolve. Hakuno, who has no identity, hesitates. However, he overcomes Atrum's intimidation by realizing that although Atrum's words are true, Atrum himself is not. They fight as Masters. As a result of the duel against Atrum, Casko decides to help Hakuno while avoiding detection by the Moon Cell. She becomes a useful and helpful friend. Of course, she schemes to defeat Nero and take her place as the main Servant, given an opening. Nero is aware of this, naturally. Casko and Nero share a friendly, combative relationship. →Their relationship is changed from "heroines of different worlds" to "heroines in the same world." ・ Round 5 Hakuno fights Julius in the fifth round. Nero is rendered unable to fight by Assassin's Noble Phantasm. With Casko's assistance, Hakuno challenges Julius and Assassin on his own. Thanks to Hakuno's efforts, Nero recovers, and the story proceeds as it does in the latter half ot the PSP version. After Nero recovers, she tells Hakuno her true name. Her Noble Phantasm is finally unsealed. ・ Missing Chapter This is when CCC takes place. Casko remembers all of it. Nero only remembers, "Elizabeth is my lifelong rival. But which round did we fight in?" ・ Round 6 ~ early Round 7 Rin and Rani are defeated in round 6, and say their farewells. Hakuno anticipates a showdown with Leo next... but Leo is reported to have been defeated. Leo has fallen, but the name of the Master who proceeded to round 7 is hidden by jamming, and the Master is nowhere to be found. Casko and Saber attempt to investigate, but they are unable to either locate the Master or remove the mosaic obscuring its name. In a dramatic development, they realize, "what if they aren't hiding? What if their name was always this way to begin with?" They proceed on the assumption that their next opponent is nameless. They report this irregularity to the priest, but the priest answers, "No. In a sense, your next battle is fair." Hakuno enters the elevator, not knowing who his next foe will be. No one is next to him. When he arrives at the arena, it's a wasteland resembling the Grand Canyon. Hakuno and the Female Protagonist face off, separated by a valley. The enemy Master was his classmate. "Ah, I knew it," Hakuno says in understanding. The girl: "Let's begin, Archer. This is my final fight." Archer appears in response to her order, facing Nero. The girl dispels the texture concealing her true face. There she stands, aloof, her hair blowing in the wind. For a moment, the story switches to the girl's perspective. It's the story of a girl who suddenly woke up like Hakuno did, and strove to move forward in spite of her lack of self and her impending collapse. The Female Protagonist's fight against Leo is the same as Round 7 of the PSP version. → Even though it was against the Female Protagonist, Leo still lost to "Kishinami Hakuno." Round 7 concludes. Archer disappears along with the girl. The Male Protagonist inherits the girl's memories and details of her fight with Leo as his own. ・ End of Moratorium ~ On the way to the core While traveling the path to the core of the Moon Cell, Hakuno is attacked by a debugging program. Its target is Casko, not Hakuno. The Moon Cell is enraged that a Servant which should have been defeated is still intact. → Hakuno parts ways with Casko. The tone is similar to parting with Casko in the CCC Route of CCC. The debugging is powerful enough to actually erase her in CCC, but the debugging is light in this case, so Casko won't disappear. Casko schemes to capture the Protagonist's heart and affections by risking her life (which is in no actual danger) in a heart-rending farewell, after sharing a tender scene with him. Nero sees right through it. "Come back out here!" "I'll beeeeee baaaaaaaack!" "She'll live," remarks Hakuno, as he dons his sunglasses. Hakuno and Saber arrive at the Moon Cell's core. There, they face Twice. ・ Moon Cell Core ~ Savior Hakuno confronts Twice. Twice gives a long speech. ※ The events here are described in the final entry of the Material glossary. His thoughts breaking down, Hakuno has a showdown with Twice. T: "No Servant can reach me. After all, heroes are little more than flowers that bloom in each age. He who saves the world. My answer is he who saves humanity." The Servant Savior appears. The duel against Twice becomes a reflection on human history in the Common Era. "All this consumption and bloodshed, and this is the conclusion we reach?" laments Twice solemnly. "So what!?" roar Nero and Hakuno in defiance. Twice is correct. Humanity is not. Yet, the final role and responsibility to decide and enforce what is right belongs to the people living in the current era. It would be even more unacceptable to have it decreed by a ghost from the past. After Twice is defeated, the ending of the PSP version proceeds to the Saber Route ending of CCC, and the story feels like it connects to EXTELLA. It leads to a new beginning that collects all of the previous components.

#fate/extra #fate/extra ccc #fate/extella #kishinami hakuno

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arcanesupern0va · 4 years

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RITW Series Oneshot: The Never Ending Why

Summary: Rick's gonna tell you why, in his own words, he left. fuck you very much for asking by the way.

A/N: I wrote this as if Rick was literally telling you, so he’s a little mean about it. idea courtesy @oh-no-a-whovian

CW: P*do mention, not in that way, but Rick vehemently denying it. I know some people are sensitive to that kind of thing, so I just wanted to be very clear. It is mentioned, but to say explain that was exactly what was NOT happening. Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Reader Word Count: 2295

My ao3

Masterlist

~Rick In The Water~

So you wanna know why I left? It’s a story for the ages, sure. If ages were long and boring and generally tedious, maybe it would be. Tales for the ages, hah. Put it like this. Grumpy old man has a daughter. Daughter has a friend. Grumpy old man leaves. See? Some story, huh?

God, you really wanna know, don’t you? Jesus fucking christ.

Look- Full disclosure, this tale will not be filled with some of my finest moments. Not that judgment from insignificant pricks like you really bother me, but I don’t need you running around saying that I’m some sick freak or that I’m some weirdo who shouldn’t be allowed two hundred feet close to a school. I left, okay? I knew how I felt was wrong. I took proactive measures against it. She should be allowed to grow up and lead a normal life, free from any weird old men that see the universe simplified whenever I looked into her eyes.

See, I sound like a hapless sap.

The first time Beth brought that shy ten-year-old girl around the house, I tried to make sure she would end up terrified of me. It was a favorite game of ours, trying to terrify the poor innocent kids Beth brought around. The little psycho that she was, she would tip me off before she brought a friend around the house for the first time and her little game would let her know which ones were, in her words, “cry-baby bitches”. I was ready by two-thirty, lumbering out of the garage in my favorite get-up, an old Ghostface robe from Halloween with an alien mask in search of children to traumatize.

“WHO GOES THERE?” I bellowed, turning sharply to face whatever poor soul Beth had unleashed me upon. There she stood, trembling in fear but rooted to the spot, staring up at me stubbornly. This was the first time I experienced the feeling of peace that she exuded for me.

Now I want to clarify something right now, this never started as a “romance” thing. An overwhelming urge to protect her, sure. An intense desire to give her anything she wanted, absolutely. Every Rick with a Nova experiences this. I-It’s like how Morty hides my brainwaves. It wasn’t even until I saw her after almost 20 years that I found myself attracted to her so you can go ahead and get that idea right the fuck out of your head. I am a lot of things, and I am a LOT of things but I am not some creepy child predator.

Beth seemed satisfied with the girl’s lack of fear, something that, as we would learn later, stemmed from her abusive household. She spent more days at our house than her own, huddled up in Beth’s room talking about boys and whatever middle school drama was going on. Her parents never even bothered to check up on her, never thought to call and check-in with the parents of the girl their own flesh and blood was spending all of her time with.

Nova. Her nickname. She hated her name, she hated it so much. Beth had gone on a kick when she was about eleven, wanting to ingest as much classic science fiction as possible. What can I say? She was a weird fucking kid. I indulged her, renting movie after movie from the local video store to feed her obsession but the one she really seemed to latch on to was the Planet of the Apes series. Every trip to the video store we would get four movies and one had to be good ol’ Charles Heston fighting the good fight against a bunch of damn dirty apes. I ended up buying the VHS and when she wore it out, I got her another one. And another and another…

One night, Beth started up another marathon and rather than peel myself off of the couch and slink back to my makeshift lab, I resigned to stick around for at least the first one. Beth sat in front of the TV, mouthing along with the characters as Nova and I sat on opposite ends of the couch with our elbows firmly planted on the armrest and our heads firmly supported.

“Seriously Beth?” she groaned, “Can’t we just watch the movie?”

“No one will listen to me,” Beth recited, turning around to face her with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Only you. You. Nova. You Nova.”

“Yeah, yeah, I Nova,” she rolled her eyes, sinking back into the couch.

And as weird as it was, it just kind of stuck. It didn’t have some stupid meaning, it was just something Beth teased her with for a little while until we were all doing it. Sometimes I forget her “real” name, to me she’s always just been Nova.

Ugh, this sappy shit is going to make me fucking hurl.

Moving on.

So what do you want to know? You’re here to find out why I left, right? Why can’t it just be as simple as me telling you I had to? I saw something in her I wanted to protect from the world. It was fine at first, I mean, who doesn’t want to help protect the poor little abused girl? She needed a place to stay when her parents got to be too much? I moved out into the garage and made her a room out of my lab. She liked watching me experiment in the garage? Sure, just stay out of my way. The last time she ever went home she came back with a black eye and busted lip? Guess it’s time to fuck her parents up-

No, I didn’t. But I almost did. And that’s what did it. Before I created my portal gun, I had never truly thought about how I would kill someone. I never thought it would be something I would do on a regular basis with sadistic glee as a shadow of the man I once was. So, the vicious rage I was consumed by when that girl came hom- came over to our house bruised and bloodied freaked my naive ass out. I started camping out in my garage, rarely emerging for anything other than food or more alcohol. Weeks after the cuts had healed and the bruises had faded, I was still fighting the urge to destroy them for even daring to lay a finger on her. It was the beginning of the end of my tenure on Earth. When I had finally talked my ass down from double homicide I started working on what would end up being my portal gun.

Fuck, there’s something I’m forgetting. Let me think. Beth’s shy friend, how she ended up being with us, how she got her nickname and why I ultimately left. I feel like I’m forgetting something. Something that reeks of failure and the lingering doubt in my head when I think about the future and whether or not Nova will be in it. What could it be…?

Oh, right, her.

Diane.

Look, there’s not much I can say about her that isn’t going to irritate the fuck out of me. We were never particularly close, she was a doctor while I worked in my garage so suffice to say she and I bonded over our love of science. It’s also what ended up driving us apart.

I already told you after narrowly avoiding prison time that I ended up spending all of my time in the garage. I ate in the garage, I passed out drunk in the garage, and when I woke back up I went right back to work on some kind of escape, something to get me away from what that small girl was turning me into.

Boy, I’m a real fucking genius, aren’t I?

This caused the rapid deterioration of my marriage. As I said, we weren’t really all that close and she would constantly nag me into spending time with her. When I started working on my portal gun, I told her enough was enough. I couldn’t take it anymore, I couldn’t stand the goddamn sight of her. Looking back now, I can’t blame her for what she did. She was starved for attention and I was in no place to take care of her needs. I came home one afternoon to find her parked in the driveway, cheeks stained with tears and lips locked with a male nurse. The sight stilled me to my core but I pushed all that pain aside and used it to work even harder on my portal gun. That moment of seeing her with someone else assured me that things would be better for everyone if I just fucked off.

I didn’t say anything out of the ordinary; that’s a minor regret I have looking back. I gave Beth a kiss on the head and hugged Nova before I disappeared back into my garage to run some final tests. First I tossed an apple through, then a lab rat. Both came out the other side unharmed. It was ready.

And, so yeah. I left. Big deal. Everyone seemed to turn out okay in the end. Sure, Beth ended up getting pregnant at seventeen and never became a doctor like her mom. And yeah, maybe Nova did go on to get herself locked into an abusive marriage but they’re okay now, aren’t they?

They would have been worse off if I stuck around, anyway.

So I spent the better part of twenty years adventuring around the cosmos. I got into fights I shouldn’t have survived and met people I wish I hadn’t. It wasn’t all bad, I guess. I met my best friends Birdperson and Squanchy, dated an entire fucking hivemind, and met enough versions of me to become convinced I really was a complete and total ass hole. But in those dark moments, in those three sheets to alcohol poisoning or overdose moments, I would think about her. I would think about those wide eyes that offered a sense of peace that I couldn’t replicate with any amount of drugs, alcohol, or faceless aliens. I had long since learned about the inevitability of our relationship, hell, I knew Scar’s Nova personally but I still couldn’t bring myself to go back. I couldn’t face her, not after walking out like she never mattered.

Jesus fucking christ, here I go again with the sappy ass bullshit.

Whatever, let’s just get this over with so I can get back to what I was doing.

So Unity dumped me, wanting to “settle down” and “take over a nice planet.” Apparently, she couldn’t see that in her future if I was in it. Ugh, whatever, it hurt and I was spiraling, I didn’t know what to do or where to go so I just went home with the tickling thought of a peace that could take the pain away in the back of my mind. Shouting preceded Beth answering the door but all of the frustration muddling her features melted off of her face at the sight of me standing sheepishly in front of her. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me down to her level and squeezing tightly as she wept. She broke the embrace, staring at me in amazement before detaching herself.

“J-Just wait here,” she pleaded, disappearing around the side of the garage. She returned, dragging that same frightened girl across the yard. She froze at the edge of the driveway, breaking out of Beth’s grasp wearing that same astounded look I’d dreamt about almost every night. Even just the sight of her offered a taste of that feeling of peace I’d been desperate for. I steeled myself, keeping my features as neutral as possible as she continued to stare at me in teary-eyed wonder.

“Oh, hey Nova,” I greeted her amicably enough, a small smile pulling at my cheek despite myself. She inched toward me hesitantly, unsure of how to proceed. Her mind was made up, however, when a deep voice broke her gaze and sent her searching for the source in horror.

“Honey… who is this?” a calculating man asked coolly, emerging from around the side of the garage. Nova stiffened immediately as he came to rest by her side, pulling her into him possessively. She explained to him who I was, twisting her hands over as her eyes darted between Ryan and me. His shoulders relaxed as a smirk covered his face as he introduced himself. He shook my hand, clearly trying to assert his dominance as he gripped my hand tighter than necessary and held my gaze with that smug smirk.

It didn’t take a fucking rocket scientist to see what was this was. The way Nova had distanced herself from me when our eyes met, how she cowered as he turned to speak to her under his breath. She bid us farewell, seemingly at his quiet insistence.

“Dad, are you back? T-T-To stay?” Beth asked, my gaze breaking from the sight of Ryan leading Nova back to their house with a firm grasp her forearm.

“Wh-What?” I asked, trying to steady myself before I stormed across the yard and pulled Nova out of that house.

“A-Are you staying? You could stay here with us,” she offered desperately.

“Y-Yeah, Beth. I came home to stay if you’ll have me.”

So I stayed. I really don’t know what else to tell you. I told you it wasn’t that interesting of a story. A-And if any of it doesn’t make sense to you, well, you can go fuck yourself. I don’t have time to come up with a perfectly streamlined story. Now if you don’t mind, I have shit to do.

Rick oooooooooouuuuuuuuuut.

#rick sanchez x reader #Rick Sanchez/reader #rick and morty fanfiction #rick in the water

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hellzyeahwebwielingessays · 4 years

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The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 18: MJ is lying to Peter but it definitely couldn’t be for his own sake

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This is something of a tangent on the last post, where I discussed why MJ would know better than to lie to Peter. However an angle I didn’t cover was the idea that she might be lying in order to protect Peter and his life interests in some way. Well today we’re going to tackle that very question.

This counterargument stems from the fact that MJ (obviously) wouldn’t want to see Peter come to harm and wouldn’t want to harm his chances in making more of his life. After all, Peter (circa AMJ #1) had only recently begun attending college again.

Informing him about Mysterio would likely prompt Peter to ride out to L.A. immediately and potentially jeopardise his academic career.

But this just doesn’t really hold up to scrutiny.

In part 16 I spoke a length about how MJ values the greater good above even her marriage to Peter. I demonstrated that since she values her marriage over her career it therefore means she values the greater good above her career.

Using the same logic it’s pretty obvious to deduce that MJ also values the greater good above Peter’s academic career.

In ASM #303 (covered in part 16) MJ was prepared to jeopardise or potentially give up her successful modelling career for the sake of her marriage. This was owed to Peter being offered a promising new job in Kansas.

However Peter turned the job down out of consideration for MJ and instead decided to go back to college (as he is in ASM v5) so he could get a job in NYC. Mary Jane doesn’t even try to protest against this.

I’m by no means suggesting MJ is being selfish here, but it does demonstrate that the value she places upon Peter’s career prospects (which his college education is an extension of) has it’s limits. She clearly values her marriage more than that in addition to her own career.

So if MJ’s priorities place Peter’s career below their marriage and their marriage below the greater good, by extension it means she actually doesn’t value Peter’s education above the greater good.

And so she wouldn’t avoid alerting Peter to the existence of potentially dangerous criminals simply because she doesn’t want to screw up his academic chances.

But if you want even more proof, remember ASM #286? MJ ultimately decides the risk to Peter’s life wasn’t as important as the innocent lives that could be saved. Are we seriously going to suggest MJ believes Peter’s career options are more important than his literal life?

Of course not. And let’s not forget that Peter has gone back to school four time by this point. I am unfamiliar with the American college education system, but that suggests to me that there is no limit on the number of times someone can stop and start their academic career. So even if MJ reluctantly has to kill Peter’s current chances in college, she knows that he could simply restart again. She also knows Peter would want it that way too.

Not to mention MJ could be honest with Peter without risking him riding down to L.A. to save the day.

Peter knows he can trust Mary Jane. She doesn’t have the ability to get him to agree with anything she wants. But nor is Peter going to be immovable on any topic that entails MJ somehow being in a dangerous situation. In Marvel Knights: Spider-Man #2 Peter is insistent that MJ leave New York in order for her to evade whomever had abducted Aunt May.

Whilst she reluctantly left, she soon returned despite what Peter wanted and continued to stick around in spite of him wanting her to leave again.

However he didn’t press the point a second time even though the situation hadn’t changed. There are various reasons as to why but the point is that Peter was able to accept that it was a reasonable decision even though he disliked it.

Later in ASM #536 following the public unveiling of his identity and his turning against the Super Human Registration Act, the Parker family find themselves on the run. Peter wants MJ and May to get as far away from him as possible, arguing it’d be safer and more efficient for him to operate on his own. Peter is however convinced by May and MJ’s arguments to the contrary.

Both examples demonstrate MJ being honest with Peter of being in direct danger but of her also convincing him to allow her to remain in that situation. Now for sure we could argue that these outcomes were ultimately the lesser of two evils from Peter’s POV. That what MJ wanted was actually ultimately safer over all.

However if somehow MJ had a solid argument for why her sticking around on the film set served the greater good or was ultimately better for her it’s far from impossible that Peter could be convinced to stay in NYC. Just spit balling here but she could argue that something very fishy is going on, Beck already tried something large scale recently and singling MJ out could mean he knows Peter’s identity As a result sending him to jail could risk exposing his identity and by extension endangering his friends and family. If MJ sticks around and Peter keeps a distance it puts her into a position to investigate and see what he knows.

I don’t know how much that idea holds up to scrutiny as I came up with it off the top of my head but it certainly makes a lot more sense than Mary Jane just straight up lying to Peter.

Even if hypothetically Peter just could never accept MJ being surrounded by criminals, she could simply promise him she would contact her various super hero associates. Or in fact ask him to do that on her behalf.

That’s not me suggesting MJ be passive or allow a man to sort out her problems for her either.

It’d be a strategic and diplomatic use of both her intimate knowledge of Peter’s psychology and her famous people skills. Having Peter on some level take an active role in helping/protecting her would make him feel in control in some way. Make him feel like he is living up to his responsibilities as a hero and as a partner and thus alleviate his urges to ride down and intervene personally.

Nowadays Peter isn’t opposed to this level of trust in his super hero friends. Even ignoring his years as an Avenger (which included living with them alongside MJ and May), Peter has called upon these people in the very recent past.

Throughout in Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man volume 2 Peter called upon the aid of his super hero associates to help him during various crises. These included the Doctor Strange, Iron Man, the Human Torch and the wider Fantastic Four.

Another example can be found during the ‘Absolute Carnage’ event, which definitely occurred after MJ left for L.A. We know this because in ASM v5 #29 and issues #30-31 were tie-ins to the event.* The Avengers in fact appear briefly in issue #30.

In Absolute Carnage #2 Venom/Eddie Brock suggests that they call upon the help of the Avengers to deal with Carnage’s impending rampage. Peter asserts that it’s best if he do that.

He is shown doing exactly that in Absolute Carnage: Avengers #1 where he teams up with Captain America, Wolverine and Ben Grimm.

Additionally this team contacts Hawkeye on the West Coast to deal with Carnage’s minions over in San Francisco.

It’s important to note that Hawkeye was on the West Coast because he was a part of the West Coast branch of the Avengers. Their headquarters specifically being…in Los Angeles…where Mary Jane is making her movie.

Granted, it’s not the same part of Los Angeles because MJ is in Hollywood and the West Coast Avengers HQ is in Venice Boulevard. And a quick Google search reveals that to travel between the two locations on foot it’d take…under three hours…Yeah…

Basically nowadays Peter is absolutely not going to be opposed to calling upon the aid of other heroes to help him directly or indirectly so asking them to show up and lookout for the woman he loves wouldn’t be out of character. Especially when one considers that Hawkeye alone is probably out of Mysterio’s league considering the threats he’s survived. But Mary Jane’s personal friends Iron Man and Ironheart? Unless Beck specifically prepared for them he would be unlikely to get away, let alone hurt them.

Now look I’m not suggesting we apply every single facet of the Marvel Universe into our analyses because that’d be ridiculous. Every Spider-Man or related story would fall apart because he could simply resolve his problems by calling other heroes. It’s part of the suspension of disbelief that Spidey is the only person available to deal with whatever crisis is at hand.**

But these are all very recent stories that, happened in the main Spider-Man titles; or tie-ins directly to those titles. In the Avengers’ case they were his teammates for over a decade and were for a time outright his supporting cast. Mary Jane was a major supporting character in the solo titles of two separate Avengers characters and that fact was acknowledged within ASM itself.

Is the idea of calling upon these characters really not fair game in this hypothetical scenario of ours?

I’d say no.

Regardless the fact remains that in AM #1 Mary Jane cannot be lying to Peter for his own sake and has no other justifiable reason either. She would know better than to do that.

Next time we take a look at MJ’s skills and whether they actually could protect her and others from Mysterio or not.

*It’s not entirely clear when the events of AMJ #1 happen in relation to ASM v5 #30-31. They must happen after ASM v5 #29 and AMj #1 was published the very same day as ASM v5 #32; being referenced in that same issue.

To me this implies that AMJ #1 slots in just prior to ASM v5 #32, but in fairness it could occur just after ASM v5 #29.

However, the events from the story I’m discussing were published before AMJ #1. They would also happen so close to it no matter what that Peter’s characterization in the former is still a fair source to cite.

**Although it should be noted that it has often been common practice for Spider-Man stories to directly address exactly why other heroes aren’t available to help Spidey. A great example would be ASM #361, Peter’s first encounter with Carnage, where the F4 and Avengers are occupied forcing Peter to call upon the aid of Venom.

P.S. For some additional food for thought check out ASM #291. In the issue a Spider Slayer robot was on the loose but Peter reluctantly left it to the authorities because a crying Mary Jane called him up and asked for his help.

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#Spider-Man #Leah Williams #Amazing Mary Jane #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #MJ Watson #Peter Parker #Quentin Beck #mysterio

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redstoreroom · 4 years

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The King of Singapore

The young man in blue paid him two dollars reluctantly then walked away. He dropped the money into his pouch and, with weathered fingers, zipped it up. His hands were still sticky so he wiped them on his shirt. His clothes looked like he had had years of sticky hands.

The sky was blushing mauve; he should start packing up. His ice-cream cart was parked by the suspension bridge over the river. He stretched his back with a groan. It had found an uncomfortable curve as its daily normal.

His precious cart was one of those with a large umbrella and conjoined to a bicycle. He looked too old to cycle, in my opinion. He knew it too. He also knew that one day, he wouldn’t be able to anymore. His joints were less like joints than bends lately. There weren’t much of muscles left on his bones either. And it worried him. Money, it worried him a lot. He could survive without shelter and homelessness was familiar. Food however… When that day comes, he’ll be fucked. His stomach too. Empty and fucked.

He lifted the metal lids of his cart, one after another, peeking into their freezing chambers. They usually contained many flavours of ice-cream. Vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, cookies and cream, mango, sweet corn, red bean, raspberry ripple. He even had durian flavoured ones; they taste better than you think, trust me. They cost more too; more than they should. You can buy them scooped on cones or cups, or sliced from icy blocks and sandwiched between wafers or bread. He had them on sticks too. However, that evening as he peered into the compartments, he saw that they were empty except for cold exhalations meeting his face and a single popsicle. The tubs were all scooped clean. The blocks for the sandwiches were all gone. It had been a busy day so he hadn’t noticed. Even the corn flavoured ice-cream had sold well. One more popsicle.

His heartbeat rushed. Happiness; he hadn’t felt it for a long time. He turned to the river and the towering buildings beyond it as he tried to girdle his emotions to his wasted body. He wanted his entire nervous system to experience every droplet of the contentment. He needed it to nest in him forever. He smiled. He listened to the distant of laughter that travelled from nearby bars and restaurants; laughter of smoking and drinking people. Feasting people. Joyful people. With them, he felt a shared glee from afar. It was lonely but not lonely.

This land, my land.

He was a king of this country, centuries ago; a raja, when the gods of the sea were still awake and sending bladed hordes from their depths to the shores of this island. A young boy, still unclaimed by puberty, but with smarts and banana trees, saved the land from the piscine attackers.

When his subjects—with mouths stuffed with panggang garfish—threw adorations at the child, our king grew worried the story would end with him throne-less. The boy was the David to his Saul.

He sent five men to kill the boy when the moon turned blind and unable to bear witness. They went to his home upon the hill and entered his room through the window. His parents were asleep. Five men. Five blades. Seven stabs each. They left quicker than they came.

As his life began its migration from his body, he wept to the gods. His final breaths called to the gods of the winds. His tears called to the gods of the waters. His temperature, lowering fast, called to the gods of fire. His blood seeped through the floor and called to the gods of the earth and thus began the slow and famous red-dyeing of the hill; Bukit Merah.

Forgiveness or revenge, the gods asked the boy.

Revenge, he said. Revenge and multiplied.

And so, they commenced the punishment. Food from the earth withered black in the mouths of our king’s family while water turned to poison down their throats. When they are shrivelled and broken, air then fled their lungs in slow hisses and rattles and so much pain. One by one, members of the royal family died, leaving our monarch completely alone. You see, fire, most cruel, cursed him with a promethean spark of life, so that he will never die. He will age, slow, but no death.

For hundreds of years, he searched for Death. He found her, one day, during the second world war, and asked her to take him. She laughed. Ask someone else, she told him. Then she left. She said she was rather busy. She had a lot of work to do.

It wasn’t till the nineteen eighties, that he met that ‘someone else’; at this very bridge, in fact. She looked like an old woman, greying hair and all that. Her ill-fitting blouse was a vomit of tiny purple and grey flowers, and dark patches of sweat under her arms, on her chest and her back. Her black trousers were too loose for her legs. He approached her.

“You’re the Devil, yes?” he asked her. “I need your help.”

“Cavenagh Bridge.” She placed a hand on a railing of the bridge. He wasn’t sure if it was for emphasis or support. “Did you know, it was built in Glasgow, dismantled and reassembled here in 1969?”

“Yes. I worked on it. Forced to. I was in prison then.” He placed a hand on the railing too but found it too hot from the sun and retreated his hand. She kept hers on it.

“My, my. From king to convict. When the mighty fall, they plummet.”

“At least I had meals behind bars. Out here… Empty belly and immortality; brutal combination.”

“Tell me, did they really sacrifice children when building bridges? Or is that just an urban myth? Oh, please tell me they did! It would really make my day!”

“Even if they did, who am I to judge?”

She laughed, hard and with bouts of coughs. “I like you. You’re hilarious. Your entire situation is hilarious. And you’re pathetic; that’s lovely too! Like a monkey. Like a drowning monkey. And that makes me smile. So, fine. How may I help you?”

“I want to die.”

“And in this heat, I want ice-cream. Boohoo! We all want something. You were given life without expiration. You could have earned every ounce of your riches back. Your land, even! I don’t understand how you managed to waste it all. Why are you such a failure?”

“Bad choices?”

She smiled a sigh. “Well, I can’t fault you for that, can I? Even God makes choices He regrets. I’m proof of that. Fine, I’ll help. But my dear, I can’t peel the curse off you. Amend it, however—”

“I’ll take it.”

And a contract was signed on Cavenagh Bridge, with the river and sun as witnesses, and the Devil gave the ex-convict king an ice-cream cart, telling him that once it is empty and frozen goods all sold, he will die. Easy, right? Yet for some reason, the thing never seemed to empty.

He could see its contents decreasing yet there was always more left. As time went on, the cart grew and accommodated more flavours and types of ice-cream. It even added a bicycle to itself. The king—now ice-cream man—could never remember when or how these changes to his cart occurred. He could only notice that it was different from before. Like realising there were now wrinkles under your eyes but never being too sure when they first appeared.

When he started selling popsicles, he tried counting them to keep track of their number but could never finish the task. So, he gave up. No surprises there. Once, he tried to buy his own wares. That didn’t work either. Everything in the cart doubled itself in quantity.

For years, he peddled. It turned his dark skin papery and covered it with wrinkles and spots. He joined the country’s army of the aged men and women who toiled—often disregarded—right up to their deaths. And like him, a small few toiled for their deaths as well; praying they lose balance at the next foodcourt table they cleaned or the next floor tile they swept, and fall, snapping their cervical spine, killing them instantly. It was the nation’s waiting game and our king feared he would be playing it forever.

Yet that night, he found his cart finally empty save a single popsicle, more than three decades after his compact began. He called to people to buy it. No luck. I was walking by his cart when he begged me. I asked him what flavour it was. Yam. Who the hell eats yam flavoured anything? So, I said no. He fell onto his knees, crying and pleading. I heard him screaming as I walked away.

I wonder whether anyone bought it. I really hope no one ever does. Such a waste of money. Living is so expensive as it is. I mean… yam, for god’s sake.

(Note 1: This story was inspired by the Singapore folktale, Attack of the Swordfish, a tale of how Singapore was attacked by schools of swordfish and saved by a young boy, Hang Nadim (using a wall of banana stems), who was then murdered by the king.

Note 2: An earlier version of this piece was initially posted on 12th June 2017 and has been edited and revised on 4th August 2020)

#short story #singapore gothic #singapore short story #singapore fiction

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destieltropecollection · 5 years

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Destiel Trope Collection 2019 Day 10: Creature AU

Operation Little Red Riding Cas | @dean-cas-in-the-impala Rating: Explicit Word Count: 17434 Main Tags and Warnings: Criminal, Action, Drama, Humor, Creature fic Summary: Castiel Novak is a bothersome reporter from a local newspaper, who has compromising evidence against a mob boss named Crowley, known as The King of Hell. Dean Winchester, who works for Crowley is commanded to get rid of Novak. His plan to charm and lure the victim into a trap fails, when the sneaky reporter vanishes from the bar where they meet. But the thing Castiel does not know is that Dean is a werewolf and he remembers his scent, enabling him to find the gorgeous but impudent reporter, no matter where he goes.

Walpurgis Moon | @jemariel Rating: Mature Word Count: 5486 Main Tags and Warnings: Dean/Cas, Fae Castiel, Fae & Fairies, Case fic, fairy wings Summary: Written for the SPN Holiday Reverse Mini-Bang! Art by Pimentogirl. Dean bends low and plucks a sprig of tiny blue flowers. They’re pretty, he supposes. If you like that sort of thing. He plucks a few more stems until he has a small bundle. Behind him he hears a tinkle, like chimes in the wind. But when he turns - nothing. Only dark tree trunks. A brush of wind, like a feather or a leaf brushing his cheek, and he whips around, ready with a cold iron crowbar in his fist, but again, nothing. Except - is that movement? Between the trees? No. Just a trick of the moonlight. Probably. Dean meets a stranger. Be he friend or foe?

sunflares | @reallyelegantsharkfish Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2684 Main Tags and Warnings: Incubus Castiel, Demons Are Known, Human Dean Winchester, Demon Castiel, Asexual Castiel, Asexual Character, Wings, Horns, Cuddling & Snuggling, Naked Cuddling, Kissing, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic Summary: Dean’s hand reaches to guide Cas’s chin into another kiss. This feels like the fore-warning to satiation, the promise of a rich meal to come, and Cas’s wings curve forward to hold Dean closer to him.

Interspecies | @destielshipper2017 + @callmemisshorizon Rating: Mature Word Count: 60551 Main Tags and Warnings: Creature Dean, Creature Sam, Shifters, Monsters, hurt Sam, Protective Sam, Protective Dean, Kaiju, Transgenics, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, antagonistic Ketch Summary: After being free for over 2 years, Sam and Dean were recaptured again by a secret government society that has been testing transgenic species for many years, in attempt to control them and use them for war purposes.

An Accidental Incubus | @jupiterjames Rating: Explicit Word Count: 40380 Main Tags and Warnings: incubus Dean, Angel Castiel, creature Dean, soul bonds, FOD Summary: On a hunt gone wrong, Dean finds himself cursed to be an incubus. While Sam and Charlie rush to find a cure before the change is permanent, Castiel decides to become Dean's "offering" when the hunter begins to deteriorate under the effects of the change.

The Quest for the Demon King's Heart | @cr-noble-writes Rating: Explicit Word Count: 12500 Main Tags and Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Major Injury, Angry Sex, Rough Sex, Fantasy AU, Major Character Injury, Demon King!Dean, Wood Elf!Castiel Summary: In a fantasy land, Dean, the Demon King, goes to a distant guild to take a break from evil, where he meets a young adventurer, Castiel, on a quest to slay the Demon King. For fun, Dean helps and protects the adventurer, and affection grows between them. Then, they arrive at the gates of his castle.

Rescue Mission for Two | @pherryt Rating: Mature Word Count: 48478 Main Tags and Warnings: Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Creature Fic, First Kiss, Dragon!Cas, stubborn!Cas, border skirmishes, Captured, brief non graphic torture scenes, Magic, self sacrificing characters, Secrets, bed sharing, Telepathy, nakedness (but no smut), Dragons, Fairies, sick!Cas, Comfort/Angst, Angst, hurt!Dean, drugged!cas, brief section of Cas being drugged against his will Summary: Castiel thinks he's the last of his kind and doomed to live a life alone. He's hiding in plain sight, as a human soldier in Angels Outfit, fighting alongside other companies - including Lord Winchesters renowned cavalry, the Silver Hooves - when his soul mark unbelievably flares to life. Either he's not the only Dragon to survive the war, or he's bonded with a human. Before he can figure out which of his fellow soldiers it could be, he's sent across into enemy territory on a rescue mission. Lord Winchester's eldest has been captured and last rumored to be in Alastair's hands. Castiel can't say no, but the clock is ticking and if he doesn't find his soul mate, he will die.

Little Blue Dragon | @saltnhalo Rating: Explicit Word Count: 23820 Main Tags and Warnings: Dragon Castiel, blacksmith Dean, magic, soulmates, pining Summary: Dean Winchester may have a reputation for being a skilled craftsman and blacksmith, but his life is just like anyone else’s. He’s over-worked and under-slept, and it’s all because of the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that tells him he’s… forgetting something. Still, he can’t let his weird dreams or errant thoughts get in the way of his work and his love for his craft. The strange feeling goes ignored. That is, until he meets a man with jewel-blue eyes and an aura of intrigue. Castiel slots into his life in a way that Dean had never thought possible, and Dean grows accustomed to the mysterious man’s visits and brilliant smiles and tales of far-away places. He’d never known he was missing a piece of himself until he met Castiel, and he thinks that Cas might feel the same way. Until Castiel disappears from Dean’s life completely.

Ensnared | @saltnhalo

Rating: Mature Word Count: 10359 Main Tags and Warnings: Siren Cas, sailor Dean, shipwrecked, desert island Summary: As the current pulls him a little closer to the island, the singing grows stronger. It’s deep and lyrical and the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard and he’s suddenly overcome by the desperate, searing need to be closer, to hear it in all its intended glory. And as he passes a single spur of rock that juts out a little further into the ocean than the others, Dean sees him.

The Captain's Fishy Admirer | @sheinthatfandom Rating: General Word Count: 1958 Main Tags and Warnings: alternative universe-pirate, pirate dean, merman castiel, pirate ship impala, based on fan art, Summary: Dean Winchester is the Captain of the Pirate ship Impala, feared on the seas and is a wanted criminal. He's someone to be feared and respected, so why can't he get this cute merman to leave him alone?

The Crane In White | @drawlight Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9994 Main Tags and Warnings: Creature Castiel, Romance, Pining, Fairytale, AU - Modern Setting Summary: Once upon a time, there was a little crane who fell in love with a human. He prayed every night to be made human to be with his love. Once upon a time, Dean Winchester finds a white crane.

Forget Me Not | @thebloggerbloggerfun Rating: General Word Count: 3638 Main Tags and Warnings: Ghost!Castiel, MCD (because he's a ghost), flowershop owner!Dean Summary: Dean gets a little more than he bargains for when he accidentally buys a haunted flower shop.

In the company of greatness | @angelneedshunter Rating: General Word Count: 4815 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate universe, Dragon!Cas, Knight!Dean, High Fantasy, Established Relationship, Praise kink, bonding, Summary: All Dean wants is to spend the holiday in peace with Cas. He spots trouble though as a girl approaches the mountain where he and the dragon Castiel resides in. That is the problem when you are dating a dragon. All the sacrifices interrupting your snuggle time.

secret of the sea | @saltnhalo Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2465 Main Tags and Warnings: Creature Castiel (Supernatural), Selkie Castiel (Supernatural), Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Castiel (Supernatural), First Meetings Summary: It feels like neither of them are breathing as Dean wades another half-step closer, the waves tugging at his waist now, his clothes soaked. How am I going to explain this? he thinks, this surreal moment that is happening even as he should be making his way back to the safety, the normalcy, of home. But instead he’s standing in the ocean as the sun disappears beneath the horizon and the stars begin to come out above, ignoring the bitter cold of the water to free a seal that watches him warily but almost seems to know that Dean is its only chance at survival right now.

As the World Falls Down (WIP) | @thursdays-fallen-angel Rating: Mature Word Count: 28251 Main Tags and Warnings: Fae!Cas, Half-Fae!Dean, King!Cas Summary: After his mom died, Dean swore off anything and everything relating to her heritage, going so far as to ignore the Fae blood in his own veins. The only magic he uses is to keep his inhuman qualities hidden, and as far as he’s concerned, that’s all he needs. However, when a Fae assassin suddenly appears and tries to kill Sam, everything is forced to change. With nowhere else to turn for help saving his brother’s life, Dean makes a desperate move and takes them both to the Fae Realm. Once they’re there, though, Dean quickly realizes that the Fae Realm isn’t nearly as idyllic as his mother wanted him to believe. Someone there wants Dean and Sam dead, everyone keeps secrets, and the king— The king may just be the most confusing part of it all.

The Offering | @deans-jiggly-pudding Rating: Explicit Word Count: 167703 Main Tags and Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, rape/non-con, incubus Cas, high school AU, religious homophobia, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, trans female character, porn with plot, smut, comfortably bisexual Dean Winchester, minor character death, conversion therapy, angst with a happy ending Summary: As a pastor's son, Dean Winchester is expected to be all the things he's not: the church poster child, compliant with every plan his father has for him, and of course, straight. Fighting the confines of his father's faith and the control it has over his life, Dean is caught in the middle of a teen lock-in activity that will change his life. The boys accidentally summon an incubus named Cas, and his demands are clear. Dean discovers Cas to be everything he expected... Yet, even the darkest of creatures has secrets of his own. Can they be together, despite who they are, and despite everything designed to keep them apart?

No Man's Waters (WIP) | @envydean Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 16326 Main Tags and Warnings: merman!cas, merman!Dean, merfolk, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, War, Treason, Touch-Starved!Cas Summary: When Castiel is cast out of his territory for disobeying orders for war, he’s left to perish in No Man’s Waters, the treacherous depth between the Garrison Territory and the Huntsman’s Territory. Nothing survives there, and Castiel is barely holding on to life when one of the Huntsmen Merfolk comes to his aid.

Never Give All the Heart | @castielrisingabove Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 82096 Main Tags and Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Fae Castiel, Hunter Dean, Slow Burn Summary: Dean knows that fae are dangerous, but he's never crossed paths with one until he stumbled into the realm of the mysterious Castiel. Meanwhile, Castiel has spent centuries having no interest in humans...until Dean appears in his life, strange and demanding and intriguing. They can't really be falling for each other, right?

Inked Feathers, Wounded Skin | @lunastories Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 59237 Main Tags and Warnings: Fantasy Au, hurt/comfort, Harpy!Cas, Angst with a happy ending Summary: Retired hunters Dean and Sam live in a cabin in the woods, only occasionally taking cases from nearby villagers and those who need their help. Castiel is the very protective harpy that has been awkwardly following (stalking) Dean for years. After Castiel injures a wing, he is taken in by the Winchesters. As Dean tends to him, they form a relationship, and Dean slowly falls for the harpy. But the unique peach cream color of Castiel’s wings hides a secret; one he isn’t sure Dean could accept.

Dean and Castiel's Lagoon of Love | @almaasi Rating: Explicit Word Count: 12519 Main Tags and Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Romance, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Tentacle Porn, Explicit Consent, Dean's Tentacle Fetish, Sexual Roleplay, Octopus Castiel, Human Castiel, Cursed Castiel, Top Castiel, Bottom Dean, Witch Curses Summary: Castiel is presently an octopus from the waist down. But the curse is only going to last a few more hours, and there's only so long Dean can delay before asking Cas to act out the erotic anime closest to his heart: "Sweet Princess Asuka Meets the Tentacles of Pleasure". Cas is the tentacle monster. And Dean is the heartbroken princess, seeking renewal in the monster's lagoon of love. The storyline may not be complicated, but when their half-innocent roleplay becomes more sensual than they planned, their feelings grow complex. Dean can leave the paddling pool in the bunker garage behind, but once Cas has his legs back, he can follow. There are still feelings to resolve. Their story isn't over yet.

Lucid Nightmare | @almaasi Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 10202 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe, Emotional Intimacy or Die, Spooky Fluff, Darkfic, Romance, Adventure, Siren Castiel, Winged Castiel, Prisoner Castiel, Supernatural Elements, Doubting Reality, Lucid Dreaming, Dreams and Nightmares, Running Away, Road Trips, Consent, Dreamwalking, Sharing a Bed, Unconventional Format, Rhyming, Poetry, Unsettling Summary: there's fire in this city // sirens, ghosts, and earthquakes // one night, you protect me // and we run until dawn breaks // Or: A spooky, fluffy, mind-warping existential-themed half-fic half-poem, in which Dean saves siren!Cas from a real-life waking nightmare and drives him to Bobby's house for safety. But as Cas reveals more about himself and his past, Dean comes to realise he has to let his new winged friend enter his mind and dreamwalk, or else Cas will die.

The Tailor of Fairy Ridge | @almaasi Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 17957 Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Historical, Fantasy, Friendship, Pre-Slash, Fluff, Adventure, Tailor Castiel, Fairy Dean, Mute Dean, Dean Loves Pie, Dean Loves Clothes, Fairy Sam, Fairy Mary, Witch Charlie, Magic, Spring, Festivals, Kidnapping, Mind Control, Profound Bond Summary: A lonely, struggling tailor named Castiel discovers he has a fairy living in his shop, supplying him with clever new ideas for clothes every night. Dean is a glutton for all things sugary, and he doesn't speak a word. Of course, Castiel can't help but adore his company.

A Severe Case Of Fairy | @sternchencas Rating: Explicit Word Count: 38464 Main Tags and Warnings: fairy tale AU, fairy!Cas, angst and fluff and smut Summary: When Dean gets thrown into another world during a hunt, it seems like a fever dream that he wishes to escape, but it could also become the best thing that has ever happened to him.

#destiel #writersofdestiel #destielfanfic #destiel fanfic #supernatural #deancasfanficnet #destielfanficnet #destiel trope collection #tropes #creature au #2019

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atopearth · 4 years

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Subarashiki Hibi (Wonderful Everyday Down the Rabbit-Hole) Part 6 - Jabberwocky II & Hill of Sunflowers, Wonderful Everyday and End Sky II Endings + Overall Review

Jabberwocky II Oh..so we actually get to see the past!! Lmao at Hasaki being scared of Tomosane at their “first meeting” since they lived separately. Although it’s kinda crappy to think about how Takuji and Hasaki lived with the mother that betrayed the dad and it seems like they don’t treat Hasaki well. In Takuji’s case, I assume he treats her badly because the mother forces the most strict teachings etc on him? I guess it was “lucky” for Tomosane to be able to live in Sawaimura and become friends with Yuki (the real one, not the personality!) etc. And I guess the father is too stressed and sick to really be able to take care of them all… I see… Tomosane had to come here because he had no qualms with hitting his mother back whenever she hit him for fighting with Takuji. And Tomosane has no respect for her after what she did to betray the family, he doesn’t even think of her as his mum. Omggg the incident that led to Tomosane having to live here isn’t his fault at all! Takuji and his mother were consumed by their religion and thoughts that Takuji would be the saviour, so they bullied Hasaki for being “nothing” I guess? And the dad couldn’t stop them since he probably wasn’t always home and he didn’t want to treat his wife and kid badly I guess. But then every time Hasaki was bullied, Tomosane would protect her, except one time, the crazy mother took out a knife and she ended up getting a stab wound when Tomosane tried to stop her. Omggg, seriously, they were such a crazy family before Takuji even died yet… I’m such an idiot…lol I should have known that the most probable reason for them to bully Hasaki was actually because she’s the illegitimate child, not Tomosane. Her mother probably looks at her and thinks about all the mistakes and pain she had to go through because of her existence.

Just like the Yuki personality said though, Yuki-nee really is older than Tomosane huh? She really is practically his big sister haha. Yuki teases Tomosane so much, it’s hilarious. I think I can see how deep Hasaki’s feelings went when she told Tomosane/Yuki how she wanted to stay like that with them forever now, they were such good buddies in the past. Lmaoo at Tomosane picking a swimsuit with man-eating rabbits for Hasaki hahahaha, Hasaki is so adorable to say she thinks it’s cute and that she’ll take it since she likes Tomosane, and likes that he still remembers who she is and what she likes. The rabbit in the shop isn’t as cute as the one Tomosane made for her~~ but omg, the reason why Hasaki is fond of rabbits is so saddening… It’s because rabbits die when they get too lonely, so she thinks that even if she’s useless, she can at least stay beside it forever (since she’s always alone), that’s why she always carries the rabbit around when she’s older… It was so nice to see them making a sandcastle together~ As expected, the father died and we get to see an extension of Hasaki’s memory of her looking for the edge of the world and Tomosane coming to find her. So that’s where Wakatsuki came from huh? Wakatsuki is the name of the shop that sells the big rabbit. And Hasaki gave Tomosane her little twin rabbit dolls that their father initially gave to her and Takuji (but he didn’t want it) because Tomosane said he’d get her the big one, so she said she’d become the big one’s twin so it won’t be lonely. It’s really cute and heartwarming, but at the same time pretty devastating since you know what happens in their future. It was hard to watch Tomosane and Hasaki cry over their father’s death though, it was heart wrenching to think about how he was the one keeping everything together, but it also made me think whether he died because of all the stress from the betrayal, the current family situation etc since he’s such a nice person, it was probably difficult for him to have to experience all this…

I guess it’s not surprising that Takuji is basically what the Tomosane personality looked like, he probably swapped the appearances in his mind because he thought of himself as the “evil” one. It’s so cute how Yuki is now treating him more like a guy than a kid now, especially when she blushed at him seeing her underwear, if it was before, she would have instead teased him for blushing at seeing it lol. I think it would have been so nice if they really did get the chance to be together, it’s just saddening that it won’t happen. I never thought I’d hear about Footprints in the Sand in this game hahaha! But wow, it really seems like Yuki made up Tomosane’s whole world, I feel like his whole three personalities, his philosophy and his knowledge all stemmed from Yuki and he only expanded his knowledge on these things due to her existence, but I guess that’s normal, she’s a big part of his childhood, a big part of himself before he “broke”. Ohh, so the reason they’re obsessed with trying to kill Hasaki is because they think that she stole Takuji’s powers from him since they’re “twins”. Yuki is so strong and brave, Takuji pushed Hasaki off the cliff and she didn’t even hesitate to jump and hold her to take all the damage from the fall to save Hasaki… Although Takuji is terrible, the mother is the worst. She’s the one who brainwashed him since he was a child about this whole saviour thing after she got thrown away by that pastor that took advantage of her and made up stuff. If it wasn’t for her, nothing would have gone wrong! I can’t believe she would make her child kill her other child, it’s just crazy and disgusting, I don’t care how delusional she is, it’s absolutely unforgivable. I wonder if they were ever able to take her to a psychiatrist or something tbh… But I can see why Hasaki blames herself so much, since it was her existence that made everyone suffer. But at the same time, I’m sure they would have made up some other delusion for his lack of powers even if she didn’t exist, so she really isn’t to blame at all, what’s to blame is the mother that couldn’t accept her wrecked life. Wow, Takuji staring into Tomosane’s eyes saying even if he dies, he’ll just take Tomosane’s body must have been the creepiest thought and moment ever, I’m so not surprised Tomosane became how he was with Yuki’s death accompanied with this… It’s also no wonder why in the previous chapters, both Takuji and Tomosane wanted Yuki to always be the one personality to “survive”, I’m sure Tomosane loved her so much, he wanted her to keep existing even if it was in this way. I’m glad that in his last moments (most likely), Yuki was able to call Tomosane back, and he could talk to Hasaki and protect her again (since she refused to let go of him when he was about to fall so they ended up falling together).

Wonderful Everyday Ending So…the reason why Kotomi (their mother) ended up getting tricked by that pastor was because she was trying her best (in her own way) to find a way to save Hiroo (their father) since they knew about his illness? Is that why no matter what, Hiroo wasn’t able to leave her? Because he felt that he drove her to this and caused her to get tricked? He understood how much of a victim she was so he couldn’t blame her regardless of what she did? Honestly, that probably just made his condition worse though. I don’t blame her for getting tricked because it’s not like she wanted to, but the fact is, Kotomi caused everything by continuing to believe her delusions that everyone would be saved if Takuji became the saviour that can then revive Hasaki and Hiroo. The moment she believed the pastor’s words was when she should have realised this was a mistake and that she shouldn’t continue, but she refused to believe it could possibly be a lie when she already sacrificed her body to someone she didn’t love, and what happened? It only caused Hiroo to probably die even earlier, and with so many regrets as well. And then she destroyed Takuji’s life by brainwashing him. She also made him turn against his siblings and nearly kill them both, all because she chose to believe in this delusion that everything would be okay once he killed Hasaki and everyone, she didn’t want to accept that everything was all for naught even when Hiroo became a journalist to show her evidence that the pastor was a fraud that took advantage of heaps of other women! He was so sick already and he still had to try and help her come to her senses! She was supposed to support him and help him for everything he had done for her (eloping from the village, caring for her when others persecuted her), and yet she made his last moments to be full of worry and regret because he had to leave behind his young children! Hasaki can say all she wants about understanding her and empathising with her feelings, but that doesn’t mean you can destroy everyone around you to keep your “dream” that everything will be okay if you did something like this alive. I don’t think I could ever forgive her tbh. She also caused Tomosane to become who he was and practically ruin his life alongside all those “believers” at school, her actions caused such a big chain reaction and such repercussions that even if everything was done in good intentions (which I honestly find rather meh as a “conclusion”), it’s just…terrible.

Honestly, I’m surprised Tomosane was not guilty of anything. I like Tomosane and I want him to be happy, but really as an outsider, if I were to know about everything “Takuji” did, who can really prove he is really okay now and is really just Tomosane? It’s rather shocking that he didn’t need to go to rehab or anything etc. Overall, the chapter was nice but also unnecessarily long winded imo, however, I do think that the long winded slice of life stuff did add to the story since it shows how happy their childhood was despite their problems, so it was important. It can just get kinda tiring though haha. Especially when they tried to kinda like “redeem” the mother’s actions. Not too fond of the ending either since it felt rather lacklustre compared to everything else, but I guess achieving a wonderful everyday is probably a boring thing to be happy about haha.

Hill of Sunflowers Ending Ooh, so Takuji does go to see a psychiatrist every week or so and he’s kinda been forced to live in Sawaimura to “recover” with the doctors here, which in a sense doesn’t feel like a punishment or anything at all since I’m sure he’d be glad to stay here. Although it’s where most things happened, it’s also a happy place after all. And it’s nice to see that in this ending, Yuki is still here! I think it’s wonderful for Yuki to still be “alive”. Oh and lol, so many CGs for their H-scene but I guess that was to be expected, since it’s Yuki, but dang, if you think about it from an outside perspective, he’s practically doing it with himself (or a ghost?) hahaha, so it’s weird but at the same time not weird since Yuki feels like such an individual by herself lol. Oooh, she’s separate from him!? She’s a ghost or a hallucination? But Hasaki can see her…so maybe she is a ghost hahaha. Either way, it doesn’t really matter I guess, since it means that the three of them really can live together forever. I loved that they went to visit the hill of sunflowers together and Yuki joked about disappearing loll. But it is true that she could disappear at any time without any warning since it’s not like she’s “real”, but as they say, humans can die/disappear at any moment as well, so it’s fine for them to just enjoy their everyday lives. I definitely prefer this ending tbh hahhaha, I feel like it felt more personal and more like a happy ending haha.

End Sky II Ending Hmm I guess this ending was to round up all the inner world, outer world mysterious stuff that Down the Rabbit Hole etc kinda showed. I’m not sure what to think of it since it kinda just tells you that whatever you think it could be is what it is, so rather than giving an explanation of what exactly went on and all the mystery, it kinda leaves you to interpret it yourself. Whether it be something like Yuki has a soul that transcends everything and basically appears as different people to reach the ending she wants for her or Tomosane, or that this world is really just her and every single thing and person in this world was her and her dream, and it repeats until she gets the conclusion she wants etc, as Ayana says, there’s more than one hypothesis and who knows what is true~ But I do feel more like it’s something she repeats until she’s satisfied at the wonderful everyday achieved and that doesn’t mean there’s only one ending, there’s many different wonderful everyday scenarios and that’s why there’s Tsukasa and Kagami endings etc. In those, Zakuro never interfered with whatever Yuki did because she was happy and satisfied with “her life”, so I think it’s just kinda like that? It’s just that for the Yuki in Tomosane’s life, it was a bit more complicated so there needed more to be done to achieve that life?

Overall Review

Hahaha, oh well, whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, I’m not too fascinated about that part anymore because I honestly thought the whole Tomosane, Yuki and Takuji thing was the most interesting thing about this novel. Although I wouldn’t say it’s a masterpiece for me, I did enjoy it more than I thought I would when I read the first chapter. Honestly, the fact that Steam only has the first chapter is ridiculous and useless because if I only read that chapter, I would have instantly just dropped this novel as this silly confusing thing that I didn’t care about. After It’s My Own Invention, my impression of the novel vastly improved because I really liked how it presented a different perspective but also kept to the storyline. It never really deviates, it focuses on the different thoughts and feelings of each character’s perspective and what they came to learn about what happened, and in this way, it helped you as the reader to slowly unravel the mystery of the story itself alongside the scenarios. The story explains to you what it implies and gives you answers bit by bit on what questions you would have whilst reading it and I really enjoyed that it did that. It slowly gives you answers through the story and the characters and it really makes the experience fulfilling because what you thought was right, mainly because the story gives lots of hints and everything to lead up to what it does.

Aside from the philosophical stuff about the world and everything, even if you just enjoy the story for what it is, it’s great because it depicts people’s emotions very well imo. I felt like I could really understand each character’s thoughts and feelings because of how detailed things were (to the point that it was such a long novel lol! I took ~59 hours to finish it all!). Honestly, I felt like a lot of things could be cut shorter such as the Kiyokawa stuff etc because they weren’t “necessary” to the novel and it made it unnecessarily long imo, especially a lot of the H-scenes loll, but I guess if it has a market, it’s understandable, I just skim through them lol. For me, Tomosane’s perspective in Jabberwocky I was my favourite chapter because I felt that it really showed how great of a character he was. I went from knowing nothing about him (aside from being violent) to him becoming my favourite character because you get to see his whole growth, his whole experience and how he handled his relationships and in fights with being a “personality” etc. It was really interesting, really fun and very emotional, it also answered the most important question of the existence of Hasaki. The bullying was so terrible that I’m not sure I want to feel all that again tbh because it really pained me and it was so uncomfortable to have to witness, but I do agree that it’s important to the whole experience of the characters. But yeah, I definitely liked the novel more than I thought and I would recommend it for people who don’t mind quite a bit of graphic stuff, it’s more to do with the imagination and thought of these things happening but there are some CGs accompanied with it that make it more disturbing though lol. Otherwise, I really enjoyed the story of how one person with multiple personalities could create such a complicated situation and cause such repercussions, yet make you want them to be happy haha.

#subarashiki hibi #subahibi

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mimikoflamemaker · 4 years

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Responding to @briarfox13‘s question:

@mimikoflamemaker if you don't mind me asking how does she change? I'd be curious to know compared to my Witcher, Reynard. Thank you ^^

I was expecting that this might get a wee bit confusing - the Neve I play on Witcher School and Neve I’m writing about are two different people. I stems from the fact that according to the witcher lore, non humans and people with elven blood cannot undergo the mutations (now allowing women to do so is also against the rules, but let’s be honest it wouldn’t go down well in today’s day and age ;) Besides who wouldn’t want to pretend to be a witcher if only for a few days?)

Therefore, the “original” Neve is half-elven mercenary and, honestly, quite a bit of a bitter bitch. She was born within a scoia’tael commando to Rhoena one of the fighters and an unknown father. Her mother was the one who declared her a half-blood. Neve received all the education young rebel could dream of, but when her commando falls prey to a conspiracy of local nobles and is exterminated, she was pointed as a culprit by the few survivors and blamed for everything. To which she says “fuck it” and decides to make her own way in the world. Which is sadly not nice to nonhumans. She finds a brief respite in the temple of Melitele, where the priestesses were willing to teach every girl and least at the time. The priesthood is not for her and neither is the profession of a travelling healer, mostly due to her blood - so she turns towards less subtle means to survival. She learns to fight, to steal, to lie her way out of trouble... or use her pretty face to her advantage. At some point she meets Alven, an elven mercenary, and the two form a sort of a team with certain “benefits”. Years later, they become a part of the squad of the famous Mohar Posch and spent next few years doing all sorts of business with them. During one such business Neve path crosses with that of Geralt which quite literally turns her entire life upside down. From this point onward, she has to kind of “build herself up again” and find another reason to live... and revenge, at least at the beginning seems as good a reason as any.

Now, “WS Neve” had to be different for two main reasons - 1) no pointy ears for me, because lore forbids it and 2) per the rules of the game your character can only do what you can do which made creating a character who knows how to fight impossible for me :(. But I have to say that what I’ve been given instead tickled me just fine - Neve was a daughter of a farmer, living in Zakole in the ass end of Temeria almost at the feet of Mahakam Mountains. She was planning on getting married to a local beekeeper, when her village was razed to the ground by Blue Stripes and Temerian infantry - zakole had long history of trading with local elves even after the kings proclaimed them all rebels (action of the larp takes place about 200 years before the events of the books). And since the soldiers came to the village when it was also visited by scoia’tael commando, the whole thing quickly turned to slaughter. Neve managed to escape the fray with her intended, but the beekeeper was killed by a Blue Stripe following them. She tried to hide in the hut, but it was obviously a bad idea. When the soldier was about to take advantage of her, he was ended by Chiarro a young elf that escaped the massacre as well. Since she tended to his would not two hours prior, she didn’t have to think much about it when she took his hand and bolted for for the woods. From this point onward he helped her survive until they met with the other rebels. then Neve tried to repay, but working in anyway she could, but she was no fighter, so one day the command leader told her that “who doesn’t fight doesn’t deserve to eat” - then Neve had an epiphany - elves couldn’t go to the cities to buy supplies but she could - and she did. For seven years she posed as a merchant, riding from city to city selling and buying wares - just the half of it ended up disappearing in the forests of Mahakam. But years passed, elves numbers were decimated and there were less and less people to help out. Chiarro, whom she considered more than a friend, was tortured and murdered by the Blue Stripes and she slowly lost a reason to live. One day when she was about to rely another transport, instead of elves waiting for her she found a wyvern. And she would have surely become it’s dinner if fete would put a witcher nearby - Finn, “last of the Vipers” currently residing is Kaer Tiele, school of the Wolf. Not having anything better to do, she came with him to the castle - because becoming a witcher sounded like not a bad idea an she had nothing more to lose....

Heh, I knew this was going to get out of the hand - to sum it up, I have two girls going by the same name and if I had more time I would surely explore more of witcher Neve” through my writing. As to how the Trials changed her - she was absolutely frightened to forget everything that made her “her” so she clinged to her memories - and right now she is just very confused. She doesn’t want to be a coward anymore. She doesn’t want to be scared and she is desperate to survive. i will have to see how scenario team will play into that, so i guess I will find out how much she had changed during the game in May ;)

#the witcher oc #of monsters and men #neve #answers answers

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holographic-chogi · 5 years

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Protector pt.6/?

Author: holographic-chogi

Pairing: fem!reader x stray kids

Warnings: guns, swearing, violence, blood, and mentions of attempted sexual assault. Please let me know if I’ve missed anything!

A/N: Wow this took ages, thanks everyone for being so patient! Things were super hectic medically and with school, and as soon as things got on track the whole burning sun case went down and it put me in a pretty bad place. However! I was feeling pretty good today and decided to get part six done and posted. Also! If anyone wants to know what yarrow looks like, it’s the flower in Chanbin’s moodboard (near the bottom).

Summary: a virus has wiped out most of humanity, and society has collapsed. People survive in groups where they live in constant fear and a struggle to survive. Women were the primary victim of the virus, leaving few behind. You are one of the few, kept in secret since the beginning. However, you’ve just been caught.

Masterlist

The following moments had passed in a blur. You heard shouting, but it sounded distant; everything felt like white noise. You had almost died. The gravity of this had hit you minutes ago, leaving you to sink to the ground, gripping your knees to your chest. You were vaguely aware of the tears pooling at your eyes and spilling down your legs, and you could feel your shaky, shallow breaths moving at an alarming rate. You hear the side door open. More shouting. There are hands on your shoulders. The faint sound of shushing in your ears as you sink further into yourself. Everything feels light for a moment, like you’re floating, and then nothing.

You were only out for a few minutes, before you come to on a couch. You blinked against the light for a moment, before sitting up. You were still in the shack, but things seemed to have calmed down. Somewhat.

Chan seems to have reappeared, along with someone you hadn’t seen before. He had blush colored hair, shorter than Hyojong’s, and looked like the tallest of the bunch. There was a cut across the bridge of his nose that was beginning to bruise. Every once in awhile, amongst the harsh arguing, you noticed him rub it, seemingly sub-consciously.

Chan and Changbin faced the three strangers, two of which were on the ground. Hyuna was still clutching her leg, blood seeping from her calf. Hyojong was beside her, rubbing her back and muttering in her ears. You could see his hands shake from across the room.

The new, blush-haired stranger was pleading to Chan, desperation clear in his eyes. “She’s going to bleed out if she doesn’t get first aid and-”

Changbin cut him off, venom in his tone. “She’s lucky I don’t just kill her now. She sure as hell didn’t have any mercy for our friend, why should we have any for her?”

Changbin’s hands inched towards the gun strapped at his side, fingers ghosting over the trigger. Chan quickly put a hand over his, staring at him sternly as a silent warning before looking back at the man. “You’re in no place to be making demands. JYP has a rule against killing women, but what’s done is done. We can’t spare the supplies to help her. We barely have enough to care for our own.”

That’s weird, you don’t see anyone your side with any injuries…

Your eyes widened in alarm when the realization hit you. Felix.

You hastily scanned the area in front of you, before whipping around, and you let out a breath of relief when you saw him. Felix was behind you the entire time, clutching his shoulder with his eyes screwed shut. Blood was soaking his sleeve, and dripping over his fingers. Still slightly in a daze, you pulled yourself off the couch, and stumbled beside him.

Once your hand made contact with his arm, his eyes shot open. He looked at you quickly, before an uncomfortable smile spread across his lips. He murmured, “You’re awake.”

You shook your head, “Doesn’t matter. We need to fix this.” You knew there wasn’t enough first aid to treat a possible infection, but they had to gauze it to stop the bleeding. You racked your brain for anything that could help, when you remembered the clustered, white flowers speckled outside around the porch.

You stood up, knees slightly shaking from exhaustion before you bolted for the door. Both Chan and Changbin shouted after you, but you chose to ignore it. The panic from earlier felt washed from your system, and replaced with urgency. After scanning the front lawn, you finally spotted the plants you were in search of, and hurriedly scooped as many up as you could carry before heading inside.

All gazes went to you as you reentered. You beelined to Felix, sitting beside him with all the supplies in your lap. He was still gripping the wound, thankfully having offered enough pressure to keep him alive this long. You gripped his chin gently, pulling his head to face you before speaking softly,

“Is there a bullet I need to take out?”

He shook his head groggily.

Chan spoke from behind the couch “It went clean through. The bullet’s outside.”

You released the breath you had been holding, thankful you didn’t have to fish anything out. He was already in enough pain.

The others had begun to gather around you, watching the situation unfold. Chan spoke again, “Y/N, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

You nodded, gathering the first stem from your lap.

Changbin spoke this time, staring at the fluffy, white flower. “What are those?”

You twisted the petals from their base while answering, “It’s yarrow. Kills infections and speeds up the healing process.”

You popped the first stem in your mouth and began chewing it into a pulp. Felix stared at you quizzically, though he was barely conscious. You removed his hand from the wound, and tore away his sleeve, revealing the gash from which the bullet entered. You gathered some of the poultice from your lips before pressing it into the wound. Felix hissed in pain, and while you felt your heart pang from for him in this state, you couldn’t afford to do this slowly. Quickly, you pressed more yarrow pulp into the other side of the wound, before wrapping it all in copious amounts of gauze.

Relieved, you sat back on your heels and took a deep breath. Looking back up, you noticed the obvious relief on Felix’s eyes as well. Almost as if on impulse, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, “You’re going to be totally fine, it just needs to heal. The plants will help, I promise.”

Changbin cleared his throat from above you, and you rolled your eyes, before letting Felix go.

Chan placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him to see he was just as relieved as you were, “Thank you, Y/N. I don’t know if we could’ve handled an infection. I think you just saved his arm.”

Changbin spoke quietly, almost to himself, “How did you know how to do that?”

You felt satisfaction in impressing the gremlin himself, and it showed in your smirk when you turned to face him, “I know all kinds of things Changbin.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “Anything else we should know about?”

You shrugged, “My mom was kind of a survival enthusiast. She really drilled a lot of these skills into my head as a kid.”

Changbin chuckled, “Well clearly she didn’t teach you to check your surroundings. This Hyuna chick got the drop on you pretty damn easily.”

He’s right. She had a gun up to your temple, about to pull the trigger not long ago. Changbin had saved you.

You opened your mouth to thank him, when Hyuna’s muffled cries sounded from across the room. The stranger stood up and moved towards you, pushing past Chan and Changbin, before kneeling down to your level. “I’m sorry about what she did earlier, she was just trying to protect Hyojong. I know how much I’m asking, but please, help her. She’ll die if it ends up infected.

Changbin scoffed, “No way in hell.”

You glared at him, before standing up. “I didn’t ask for your permission Changbin.”

Chan spoke this time, “We don’t have any gauze left.”

You shook your head, “It’s fine, I’ll make it work.”

Hyuna was beginning to lose consciousness from the pain and blood loss, and as you kneeled beside her, she barely seemed to register your presence. Hyojong was still clinging to her, his limbs desperating wrapping around her limp body as his tears soaked the collar of her shirt. You were sat in the puddle blood that had began to accumulate beneath her calf. You tried to stay calm in your expression, but you knew that she was barely hanging on to life. No one had stopped the blood flow like Felix did to his own injury, so it had freely flowed this entire time.

First, yarrow. You chewed the green plant much faster this time, before pressing copious amounts of pulp into the wound. There was a bloody bullet tossed on the floor beside her, which meant someone had already fished it out. Possibly Hyuna.

There was no gauze, but any kind of cloth would do the trick. The yarrow prevented infection, so cleaning the material wouldn’t be an issue. You looked down at the white blouse you were already wearing. It had been owned, you presume, by the woman who owned the farmhouse before the virus, and when you decided to stay, Chan let you had free reign of the clothes she left behind. It had already been stained with a spray of blood from Felix, but you still felt a bit bad for what you were about to do. You tugged at the seam on the edge of the shirt before you tore away at the fabric. Once it tore clean around, you had a long strip you could wrap around her leg at least three times.

Once the wound was wrapped tight enough, you stood up, wiping your hands on your jeans. You giggled at the sight of your clothes. The shirt tore so the bottom reached halfway down your ribcage, revealing most of your stomach and midriff, and your jeans were soaked red at the bottom, with bloodstains scattering the top. You felt like a final girl from an 80s horror movie, bloodstained crop top and all.

The stranger made his way past you, kneeling beside her to inspect your handiwork. “You did a damn good job.” He turned his head to look up at you, genuine appreciation in his gaze, “Thank you so much.”

You smiled, feeling giddy over helping not one, but two people today. You turned towards the others, and your smile immediately fell in surprise.

Chan was busy tending to Felix, but Changbin simply stood next to them. His eyes were laser focused on your exposed stomach, his bottom lip between his teeth; the way he looked at you made your knees weak. You could feel heat beginning to radiate from your cheeks, and shyly, you covered yourself with your arms. At this, Changbin’s eyes shot up to meet yours, widening as he stumbled down to the ground in an attempt to look like he was helping Felix.

Over the next few hours, the stranger, who you’ve come to learn is named Hoetaek, explained what they were doing there.

The three of them had just joined a group of survivors within the JYP district, so recently that they hadn’t had the chance to meet Chan and crew yet. Apparently, a few days ago, Hyuna had got into an altercation with one of the survivors. He had tried to sexually assault her, and she, well, stabbed him. Hoetaek and Hyojong tried to help her when the others had discovered the scene, but their efforts were fruitless. The JYP code states that you cannot kill another member of the JYP district, but it also states that due to the steep population decline, all JYP are banned from killing women. Due to these circumstances, Hyuna was banished while the other two had to escape to avoid execution. The three of them had made it impressively far on foot, but their resources were close to none, and they wouldn’t last long.

Everyone except Felix, Hyuna and Hyojong were sat at the lone kitchen table as Hoetaek recounted these events. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Chan running his thumb and forefinger together. You’ve come to learn that he did this whenever he was trying to make a difficult decision. He then sat back in the chair and crossed his arms.

“So you’re wanted by JYP?”

Hoetaek nodded solemnly, “Technically, yes. Our old group has the full right to...execute Hyojong and I if we’re found. I’m not sure how much mercy they’d have for Hyuna either.”

Changbin stirred in his seat, “We’re one of the highest ranking groups in the district. It’s our duty to carry these things out too. We’re breaking our code having let you live this long.”

Chan shot an angry gaze at Chanbin, before Hoetaek chimed in, “Changbin, right? We aren’t guilty. We weren’t even there when Hyuna stabbed that asshole, and even then what she did was in self defense.”

Changbin averted his gaze, clearly feeling some kind of sympathy. Chan cleared his throat before speaking, “What do you suggest we do then?”

“Just let us go, pretend you never saw us.” He paused, and looked at you, “This young woman went through all the trouble of helping us, she must have done it for a reason. What’s the point in offing us now?” He looked at Changbin this time, “I promise, we won’t cause any issues and leave the district immediately.”

This didn’t feel fair. They didn’t do anything wrong, but they were forced to leave one of the very few safe places left in this wasteland. You sat up with determination, “What if we take them with us? Let them make their case to Jaebum and the rest.”

Changbin spun to face you, “No. Absolutely not. They could be dangerous. Who knows if they’re telling the truth?”

You smirked at him, “What, you don’t think you could take ‘em?”

“It’s not me I’m worried about, they’d be in the back with y-” he stopped, looking away in embarrassment. “It isn’t happening. Period.”

Hoetaek spoke from the other side of the table, “Hyuna’s injured, we aren’t in any shape to try anything.” He looked at you earnestly, “And you saved her. We owe you. There’s no way we’d hurt you or your friends.”

You looked at Chan pleadingly, who had continued to rub his thumb and forefinger in thought. You spoke in a low voice, “They deserve a chance Chan. What if you hadn’t decided to trust me that day in the prison? I’d probably be dead.” You sighed, “It wouldn’t be fair to help me but leave them behind.”

Changbin murmured from behind you, “This is different.”

You turn to glare at him, “How, Changbin? You didn’t know me either. In fact, I was apart of your opponent's group! If anything, they’re less of a threat.”

A snarl began to form on his lips as he stared you down, “This is different Y/N.”

This wasn’t about the group anymore, you were tired of Changbin arguing with you constantly. He was being irrational, and you were sick of him disregarding what you had to say. Your voice had begun to rise, “How the hell is this different Changbin?”

Anger seeped into his expression, his own voice raising, “There’s more at stake!”

Your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “No there isn’t! There’s nothing else at stake.”

As quickly as you spoke, he slammed a fist on the table, making you jump. “You. You’re fucking at stake Y/N. Why won’t you just let me prote-” he froze, realizing what he had just said. You simply stared at him at a loss for words as he turned away from you.

You spoke softly, “I see what you’re saying, but you just need to trust me.”

Slowly, he turned back to look at you, his expression much less hostile. “It’s on you if they fuck up.”

You nodded, “That’s fair.”

Hoetaek stared at you two in bewilderment, “Don’t worry, Y/N. You won’t even know we’re there.”

You and Hoetaek looked at Chan expectantly. He had simply been observing the argument play out, arms crossed stoically. He spoke hesitantly, “Y/N, are you sure about this?”

You nodded once more, “I’m sure. We can’t leave them like this.”

At that he stood from his chair, stretching his back before looking at Hoetaek. “Get you and your group packed quickly. We’re leaving as soon as Felix wakes up.”

You smile brightly at Chan, mouthing a thank you before standing up as well, following by everyone else. Hoetaek bowed deeply, “Thank you, so much. I promise we’ll find a way to repay you.”

Changbin scoffed, “Fat chance.”

It took a mere five minutes for Hoetaek to gather all of their belongings and pack them into the truck. Hyojong gingerly lifted Hyuna and set her in the truck bed, making sure to support her sides with bags so she didn’t roll over. Once Felix had woken up, about ten minutes later, Chan and Changbin helped him out of the house, leaving you alone with Hoetaek. You were about to leave behind them, when Hoetaek gently grabbed your wrist. You turned to face him and he released his grasp. “Sorry, I just wanted to have a word with you before we left.”

You nodded, “No problem, what’s up?”

He smiled solemnly, “I’m really grateful for what you did, and what you’re doing. We all are.”

You smiled back, much warmer, “I’m glad I could help.”

His smile fell a bit as he continued, “How long have you known these guys?”

“Not long.”

He looked worried, “Are you with them voluntarily?”

You nodded quickly, “Completely! And they’ve really had my back lately. I owe them so much.”

He chuckled, “That makes two of us.” He nodded towards the door, “let’s head out before Changbin shoots me too. God knows he wouldn’t be thrilled that I’m alone with you.”

You looked up at him quizzically, “Changbin? He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about me. He only got heated earlier because he’s argumentative. I can hardly argue against my own safety and sound logical.”

Hoetaek raised an eyebrow, amused, “Do you seriously believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He chuckled again and shook his head, “Nevermind, let’s go.”

#skz #stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #protector #stray kids apocalypse au

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dhbelzinone · 5 years

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𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓼 (ᴬⁿᵈ ᴬˡˡ ᵀʰᵃᵗ ᴶᵃᶻᶻ)

𝓞𝓞𝓒 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸 𝓟𝓸𝓼𝓽

Hi hello I’ve never done anything like this before but it looks like there’s a blog specifically for ooc intros so here’s my best. ♡

Hi my name is Sal, I go by they/them/theirs, and I’m a med school reject turned gender studies honors student. I’m currently working on a thesis about sex worker rights so I’m balls deep I can be in the industry without the good money and devoting the rest of my undergrad career to fighting for their right to make theirs. I’m also an artist and run an indie if y'all wanna see more of my muse’s roots. Bel’s been my emotional support muse for a good while and has gone through more character development than I have my entire lifetime, so although she may seem like a big softie compared to the rest of the muse crowd here, here’s hoping she can hold her own!

Bel Zinone Abridged: Devil’s Highway Vers.

Her mama is an undocumented immigrant who fought tooth and nail for her piece of the American dream. Much of this was due to the help of a vigilante organization that helped her flee from Europe, but her reputation was volatile enough to charm them into seeking out her membership.

Thanks to their international influence, she was able to keep running with the Wallflowers across the continental U. S. She soon settled down with her husband, a high profile (albeit black market) doctor, and raised her two children beneath the protection of the empire they built all the way from the city underbelly up to the high class elite.

Bel and her older brother Beau were relatively spoiled children until he left for the army and the family secrets started to leak. Adolescence was already hard on her, with her elusive sexuality and growing dysphoria yanking her identity chains, but as soon as she discovered her parents’ reign over the criminal underground, Bel doubted the authenticity of her upbringing and fled to the southern inlands with the resolve to make it on her own.

Little did she know that she’d find herself right smack in the middle of a gang war of the very nature she tried to escape. However, this time was going to be different. She wasn’t going to be at their mercy.

They were going to be at hers, for she offered one of the few medical resources in the entire desert that didn’t come with the liability of a paper trail.

In the meantime, she floats between bunny ranches, strip clubs, and the odd burlesque show. When she’s not working, she can be found frequenting bars, on Instagram, streaming her cam, tinkering with her Widowmaker, or looking for a good meatball sub.

Whereas she would’ve used her earnings to run as far away as possible from her past, Bel ironically finds solace in the lucrative lifestyle, calling a cozy studio apartment home and splurging on the occasional odds and ends that make the closeted queer life she embodies just a bit more bearable.

Relationships for her? I’m not gonna lie: despite the past rancor she’s had for her parent’s occupations, she genuinely wants to help and support people, patching them up so they’re good to go back to whatever they were doing without judgement. Her view of the life’s changed and she’s come to understand the institutions (as well as will) that brings people to commit and run with crime. She’s yet to make peace with her family, but she’s come to terms with the blood she’s from and wants to make a difference in peoples’ lives. That being said:

Give her your tired, your poor, your horny

A job @ Paradise, maybe? Maybe she could learn about the surrounding gang activity from other dancers / affiliates or Kimi when she applies?

Maybe she could’ve known Esmeray from medical school?

Seeing other muses in the medical field are inspiring some joint black market clinic potential~

Maybe she could’ve known Rodrigo from when he was doing his work, possibly from Backpage before it got shut down?

On this note, maybe Nikki too? (Hello~)

If there are any other queer muses around, maybe they can shine a community light on her? Potentially while she’s yanking a shank out of their shoulder?

If there are any single muses too, I’d love to develop a ride-or-die boo or friend for her.

Last but not least, if we still need prospects and other make characters I’d be game af to have Beau go AWOL and trade his fatigues for a potential patch (maybe through the Mexican border with Nikki, if she’s gonna hate Bel asdkjfnaks). ♡

𝓐𝓹𝓹𝓵𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

OUT OF CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION: Sal (24) they/them/theirs ; PST ACTIVITY: I'm in my last year of undergraduate study and will have class three days a week on average. I'll be online at least once a day and will be able to devote most of my week to nitty-gritty writing as well as plotting. PASSCODE: angel wings and/or crown MISCELLANEOUS: I've been running an indie oc rp blog for almost five years (same character @belzinone) and this will be my first group/skeleton/rl fc rp. I'm worried about being ignored/left behind/largely uninvolved in threads and plotting because that has largely been my experience in discord server rp groups, but y'all seem to have good administration going on so I'm not feeling so worried anymore. I look forward to the experience if you'll have me. :)

IN CHARACTER

NAME: Bel Zinone DATE OF BIRTH: (March/08/1991) (28) PLACE OF BIRTH: San Francisco, California GENDER/PRONOUNS: demifemme｜she/her/hers AFFILIATION: N/A RANKING: N/A OCCUPATION: freelance sex worker, hitwoman, & black market physician FACE CLAIM: Antonia Thomas

BIOGRAPHY

triggers: domestic violence, murder, abuse, misandry, severe burns, sex work Her mother was an undocumented immigrant, fleeing from her orphaned past and domestic abuse in the Italian slums. A headstrong, promiscuous, and violent woman, it wasn't long until she found sisterhood amongst a like-minded gang of vigilante women with international influence called the Wallflowers, well-versed in her infamy and coming to her aid while she was pregnant with her son and escaping prosecution for murdering her husband. Risa Zinone, codenamed La Eglantina, docked in New York city, giving birth to her son Beau Zinone and raising him with the rest of her sorella while continuing her bloodthirsty occupation of murdering abusive men and liberating survivors from their regimes of terror. However, one could only run with the Wallflowers for so long before beginning to challenge their belief system, however righteous it claimed to be. The murderer mother fell in love with the black market doctor who saved her life and once again fled across the country and retired so she could live a peaceful life with him, safe from the constraints and watchful eyes of the sisterhood, but not without heavy cost. She suffered major burns to her entire body by a fire and had to undergo near total facial reconstruction, a miracle performed by the love of her life. In exchange for her life, she'd no longer bear resemblance to her children. Thus Bel Zinone was born on the opposite side of the country as her brother, hilly San Franscisco. She was a wildly rambunctious child, calmed only by the sounds of her brother's guitar strings and a profound interest in her father's work. Little did she know, her living was earned via the illicit means of her parents and their continued association with the country's underbelly. Shambled by the loss of one of their most valuable members, the Wallflowers had undergone a civil war. A near complete overhaul of organizational structure and creed had taken place, leading to an abysmal divide between the matriarchal supremacy of days past and the new order. Enemies of the new regime all around the world were sought out, assassinated, and replaced with a stronger, more diverse membership. During that witch hunt, Risa was reinstated into the Wallflowers with her husband Dmitri and the power couple ruled the pacific branch. The Zinone's hid their criminal affiliations well. Dmitri, a renowned surgeon specializing in the central nervous system, Risa, an uptown socialite who moonlighted cabaret clubs as a jazz singer. Their children had a generous, almost spotless adolescence until Beau graduated high school and joined the military. He was an upstanding, self-righteous man, yet his fatigues all but killed the respect his little sister had for him. As the Zinone siblings grew up, their parents had to try all that much harder to hide their criminal affiliations, often leaving the two with ample bonding time and hiding various criminal survival skills (like how to fight and use firearms among other things) under the guise of "street smarts". Combined with her surfacing struggles with her sexuality and gender identity, Beau's abandonment was very hard on Bel. Her high school antics began to resemble those of her mother during her youth, starting fights, finishing others' fights, and getting dress coded nearly every day. If not for physical altercations, the young lady spent most of her time in the principal's office for getting into arguments with teachers and staff over technicalities in her STEM courses and exposing discrimination in curriculums and attitudes throughout. If not for her parents' powerful influence, she never would've dodged juvie, let alone made it to college. Fortunately, she found her calling and started settling down as soon as her father invited her to his workplace in the hospital. College was a breeze for her, even as a fierce insistence to be independent led to her paying her own tuition. She was no party animal or sorority sister, but the continuing troubles she had with her sexuality and gender identity pushed her towards casual sex work and the porn industry when work-study wasn't enough. Bel was steadily making her way through adult life, planning to devote the rest of it to medicine like her father. However, as she started having to use her special "survival skills" more and more, she slowly began to realize there was more to her parents than she thought. The Wallflowers were growing in influence, and La Eglantina's daughter was growing a bounty on her head as well. By the time she cornered her parents with the truth, she was already well into medical school and bore nods of her mother's pseudonym and her father's occupation on her back. The betrayal she felt when her brother left her resurfaced as she uncovered her parents lies, spurring her to cut her familial ties and live her own life exclusively by her own means. Bel rejected her father's footsteps in favor of sex work, something she pursued entirely of her own volition, and eventually found herself amongst the "bunny ranches" in Las Vegas, where her life in the crossfire between the Sinners and Jokers would begin. CHARACTER QUOTE: "Do no harm but take no shit." CHARACTER ANTHEM: Half God Half Devil｜In This Moment

EDIT: Risa Zinone fled from Europe as a result of Romani persecution.

P.S.: I reiterate that this is my first group/skeleton/rl fc rp. This is all pretty overwhelming so please have patience with me and for those of y’all who have a lot of experience with these things, please help me out <3

#info

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mystrangerfics · 5 years

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Damaged Goods Ch. 6

A/N: This is my first Reader story I’ve really ever written and my first Billy fic. Hope it’s not horrible.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

Description: This was a request by @satansparklesworld. “ Can you make a fic about Billy falling for a punk chick who is almost like him (family life and how they deal with the pain) and they learn to trust and be vulnerable with each other. Can she be on thicc side too? ” – This will be a few chapters long as it went with an idea I was working on at the time.

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Work Count: 3281

Complete Story Warnings: Abuse, Language, Smut, Death & Violence. 18+

Your mother was angry with you to say the least. She wouldn't speak to you, which only made you more upset. You felt bad enough because you hadn't actually meant to kill Daryl. A week had passed since everything had happened and you hadn’t returned to school or seen much of anyone besides your mom. You had put on a black dress on the day of Daryl’s funeral only for your mother to leave without you, not wanting you there. She wouldn’t speak to you, she wouldn’t look at you. You could feel her hatred and it broke your heart. You had never wanted things to be like this with her.

You sat across from your mother as you both silently pushed around your food. “Mom, when are you going to talk to me?” You finally asked her with a sigh. She didn't even meet your gaze. Your mother hadn't been the same since your father died, she had once told you that he was her one true love and now she just had you. The comment had stung because it wasn't said lovingly. It was kind of mumbled against her glass of gin.

The abuse with Daryl had started before she even married him. He never laid a hand on her and she didn't seem to mind him beating on you. She just seemed to ignore it and part of you resented her, another part of you believed you deserved it. You had taken her one true love from her, you didn't think she'd ever forgive you.

“Fine. When are you going to look at me?” You asked as she continued to stare at her.

“You murdered my husband!” She shouted and slammed the table, making you flinch from her sudden outburst. “You killed your father and now you killed my husband! What more do you want to take from me!?”

“I didn't kill dad!” You argued, your eyes already flaring. You tried not to think about the accident.

“If he hadn't been taking you to the fucking ice cream parlor he would still be here! But you whined and got your way like you always did!” She hollered and you looked down as your eyes poured over. You couldn’t meet her furious gaze, her eyes holding so much hate “You have ruined every good thing I ever had! I hate you!” You looked at the hatred in your mother's eyes and believed her. You had always been angry with her for letting Daryl abuse you but you had never been able to bring yourself to hate her.

“I cannot wait until you finally turn eighteen because you're fucking gone!” She got up from the table and stomped off to her room, slamming the door hard enough for you to flinch. You finally released a shaky breath you had been holding in.

You sat at the table for a little longer before you got up and tore open the fridge. You grabbed the beer Daryl had had in there along with the bottle of whiskey from the freezer and stormed out of the house, slamming the door. You crammed the beer and liquor into your saddlebags before you backed your bike into the road and started it.

You drove down the road quickly and didn't even stop when you sped passed Billy's Camaro that pulled onto the road. You drove down one of the old back roads, heading towards the ice cream parlor that was only open during the summer. You stopped your bike on a turn and parked it off the road before you angrily dug out the drinks from your bags.

You walked down the steep slope a little before dropping to your ass, staring at a little white cross that was faded. You sat the beers beside you, the liquor bottle in your hand. You unscrewed the cap and tipped it back, chugged from the bottle even through the burn in your throat. You sat for about ten minutes, just swigging from the bottle in your hand as you glared at the cross.

“Let's just take the bike,” your dad said as you came out of the house. “Your moms staying home. She has a headache,” your dad mumbled as he walked into the garage.

You noticed your moms headaches normally happened whenever you wanted to do anything but always kept quiet. You knew your father tried to act like everything was okay. So you ignored that your mother didn't take interest in you like the other moms the girls had at school. She didn’t braid your hair, she didn’t take you shopping for the Snow Ball and she never seemed to want to be around you. She would sit with her gin and glare at you, sometimes that felt like the most attention she gave you.

“Dad, I don't want to take the bike. It scares me,” you said quietly, frowning as he was about to uncover it. You felt bad but you really didn't feel safe riding on the back.

He frowned a bit but nodded. “Fine, car it is,” he said before smiling. “Hop in,” he patted the hood of the car and you went around to jump in the passenger side.

The ride there was like most any ride with your father. Music blaring, laughs and smiles. He always played rock music when your mother wasn't in the car because he loved it, she hated it. Your father had put the top down and you remember sticking your hands up into the air, feeling the wind whip around. You smiled brightly, feeling the warm sun on your face. You saw your father staring a bit and looked to him. “What?”

“You're the best thing in my life, kiddo. You know that right?” He said, glancing back to the road for a moment before back to you. “I love you, pumpkin,” he said with a smile.

You smiled back at your father. “You're the best thing in my life too.” You glanced away from his eyes for a moment to the road ahead. “Dad, stop!” You saw a car, it was stalled out in the middle of the road around the turn.

You heard screeching tires and screamed as the car swerved back and forth violently before you felt yourself being violently chostled. You held your head down towards your lap so you could cover your ears. The next thing you remembered was opening your eyes and smelling hot rubber.

“Dad,” you whimpered, trying to shift your leg before you screamed, realizing it was broken. Your head span and ached painfully. “Dad,” you said a little more seriously as you tried to steady your spanning vision. You shifted your neck and shoulder against something hard before turning your head, the once blue sky was now rocky ground. The car was upside down, you tried the door but it wouldn't budge, you were trapped. You grit your teeth as you unbuckled your seatbelt and cried out when you shifted to the ground and it pulled on your leg. You wiggled around a bit, trying to find a way out.

You turned frantically to your father before you stopped, your hands shaking. Your father laid still on the ground, his head and chest covered in blood. “Dad!” You said and shook him, trying to deny what you already knew. “Daddy, wake up! Wake up! Wake up!” You screamed before sobbing. “Daddy, please?” He didn't move and you let your head fall onto his shoulder. You sobbed brokenly and gripped onto him. “I can't lose you,” you whined.

It took the paramedics and fire department about an hour to get one of the doors off the car. It took them another twenty minutes to get you to let go of your father. You had curled up to him and didn't want to leave him, refusing to believe he was gone.

The police had told you that you were lucky to be alive. They all talked about how dangerous it was to roll a convertible and that your father hadn’t been as lucky.

“I wish I had died instead,” you mumbled to the cross, trying to forget the memories.

“I bet he doesn't wish that,” you turned your head quickly to see Billy behind you, standing beside your bike, up the slope. You cursed yourself for leaving the bike by the road, having lead him to find you.

“Go away, Billy.” Your voice had a bitter edge to it, mixed with the sadness. You hugged your knees and rested your chin on the inside of your elbow, looking back to the cross.

“I don’t think you should be alone,” he said before he walked down and sat beside you.

“I didn't ask you to be here!” You snapped and swigged off the bottle again.

“Well get over it! I'm here now!” He snapped back, knowing your anger was stemming from somewhere else. “Give me that,” he snipped and tried grabbing the liquor bottle you were swigging from.

You shoved him away from you and moved the bottle back from his reach, he looked a bit surprised at you. “Fine. Why are you here? Just sitting in self-pity?” Billy asked bitterly, glaring. He didn’t mean to sound so harsh but you had avoided him for the entire week. He knew you were going through stuff but he wanted to be there for you and you were denying him that.

“I’m a murderer,” you mumbled before swigging from the liquor bottle again. You were definitely feeling it, the bottle was half empty in your hand. You looked down at the bottle and felt like you might start crying but you didn’t let yourself. “Why do I have to feel bad for not letting someone kill me!?” You snapped angrily. “Why do I have to feel bad for surviving a car accident!?”

Billy let his elbows rest on his bent knees and his arms hang as he looked to you. You were angry, you were pissed and he knew this meant you were sad. He’d seen himself do this because sometimes being angry felt better than crying. Yelling felt better than sobbing and breaking things felt better than feeling your own heart breaking.

“I never did anything to deserve this! I fucking tried! I was a good kid! I let my mom’s boyfriend fucking beat me! I said nothing!” You hollered before swigging off the liquor bottle again and you held it out for Billy. He looked at it for a moment before he took it from you and tipped it back, letting the liquid burn his throat. He was happy you weren’t mad at him at this moment, the bottle being offered was a sign of that but Billy knew that could change in an instant. He handed the bottle back to you, trying to keep things from getting worse.

“Why the fuck does life have to be so unfair?!” You screamed and stood up, swaying a little in your spot. Billy stood beside you and rested a hand on your back, worried you might fall. “Stop fucking touching me!” You screamed and shoved him back, he looked shocked and stumbled a little. “I don’t want you to touch me! I don’t want you near me! If you hadn’t come over that night I wouldn’t have had to kill him!”

Billy stood staring at you for a moment as anger built inside him. “You didn't fucking kill him! He had a heart attack!” This was what he was afraid of, that you were blaming him. That you looked at this as his fault. “You know you don’t mean that!” He tried and reached for your arm again but you pulled it away. “Everything was fine! We were talking about getting away together! We were going to go to California!”

“Fuck California!” You hollered before taking another swig from the bottle in your hand, there was only about a quarter of it left. “I’m not going anywhere with you! You’re just like everyone else! With your fucking pity and your stupid plans! I don’t fucking need you! I was fine without you and I’m still fine!” You screamed before you finished chugging the bottle and threw it, smashing it off a tree. “I don’t care about you!” You said like you were admitting something and you lifted your arms before dropping them. “Okay?!”

Billy remained silent as you screamed and hollered, he kept his gaze down, unable to look you in the face. He felt angry but he also felt hurt and it was all swirling inside him. Part of him felt betrayed and stupid for letting himself think that you cared about him. The other part prayed you were just upset and didn’t mean anything you were saying. “You’re lying,” he finally managed.

You reached down to pick up one of the beers at Billy’s feet and he grabbed your arm before kicking the beers down the hill. “What the fuck?!” You screamed angrily and motioned to where Billy had kicked them.

“You’re drunk enough!” Billy said. He watched you sigh and start walking up the hill to your bike, digging for your keys in your jacket pocket. He quickly followed behind you as you walked up the rocky edge and made it to the top as you got on your bike. He straddled the front tire and held onto the handlebars, standing in front of you. “We’re not finished!” He said as he looked at you, his expression angered. He didn’t want you driving off drunk but he really didn’t want you driving off and leaving things like this.

“We are so finished!” You spat bitterly. “Billy Hargrove, I am fucking done with you,” you slurred before shoving his shoulder. “Get away from me. Don’t talk to me, don’t look at me. Don’t even fucking think about me,” you said with an angered look in your eyes, glaring at Billy.

“Fine! Go back on everything you said! Everything we did,” Billy hollered back angrily but found his eyes watering.

“I never said shit! I told you I wasn’t going to fall in love with you and I did what I said. I don’t love you,” you hollered bluntly and motioned between you both. “We are nothing. It was just some fun,” you slurred.

Billy glared at you and his hands were shaking as his knuckles turned white from gripping your handlebars. He grabbed your wrist tightly when you moved your hand forward. He ignored your arguing and ripped the keys from your hand. He backed up when you tried grabbing them back.

“Give it to me!” You slurred as you got off your bike and came around, trying to get closer to him. He held the keys behind his back and kept a hand in front of him, keeping you away. “They’re my fucking keys!”

“You’re drunk as hell! I’m not letting you drive home!” Billy reasoned as he held onto the keys.

“Why?!” You screamed, irritated before you stopped and started laugh. Billy looked at you confused for a moment but still kept his hand up to block you. “Aw, Billy. Did you fall in love?” Your voice sounded taunting and Billy flinched a little at how cold your words came out.

“No!” Billy hollered before he realized he was lying. He looked up into your eyes and felt pained. You just had this little, pitying smirk on your lips.

“Don’t fall in love with damaged people Billy,” you whispered but your voice was still full of ridicule. “Just ends up getting you hurt,” you said and drunkenly placed your hand on his arm, he didn’t move away. You slowly inched closer to him as he remained unmoving and wrapped your arms around his neck, looking into his face. The anger on his features was entirely gone, he looked destroyed. His eyes were cast downward and there was a frown on his slightly parted lips. He looked so lost and when he looked up to you a tear ran down his cheek. “I’m a damaged person,” you whispered as you looked into his eyes. “I hurt people.”

Billy looked at you for a minute before he spoke. His voice was quiet, it sounded meek and it surprised you a little. You’d never heard him sound so broken, even the night he’d come to you after being hurt by Neil. “I thought you could love me.”

Some of the anger left your features. Your eyes softened and Billy felt you gently wipe the tear from his neck. You looked to Billy and he swore he saw sadness in your eyes, this broken expression. You opened your mouth like you were going to say something before you reached and snatched the keys that dangled from his hand. You instantly let him go and headed back towards your bike.

It took Billy a moment to register what happened before he was walking up to you. He stood in front of you so you couldn't get to your bike. “No, no, no, no.” He said quickly. “You don't just get to run away.”

“Billy, just stop!” You said as you tried to get around him but he stopped you.

“You can't tell me you don't care about me because I know you do!” Billy said and you looked down, not meeting his gaze. “You're just scared! You're scared because the people who are supposed to love you most in this world have left you or have hurt you more than anyone ever should! Don't put that on me,” he said the last sentence with a weak voice.

You glanced up to him a little and he saw your eyes brimming with tears. He didn't stop, afraid he'd lose you to your anger again. “You are the best thing in my life,” Billy said before he slowly took your face in his hands. You tried to pull away and interrupt but he stopped you. “And (Y/N) (Y/L/N), you were right. I did fall in love,” he whispered and you let out a sob. “And I think you did too.”

You looked into his blue eyes before you started sobbing and hid your face in your hands. Billy kissed the top of your head and he felt your hands grip his jacket near his waist.

“I'm sorry,” you whimpered to him and looked up at him again. “I'm so sorry that I'm like this.”

“Sh,” he whispered as he kept his nose buried in your hair. He gently rubbed your back and pulled you against him.

“I didn't mean what I said,” you sobbed and shook your head. He gently brought a hand up and brushed it over your hair.

“I know,” he whispered and pulled you back. He looked at your face, your makeup smeared over your cheeks. He carefully wiped under your eyes. “I love you,” Billy said quietly, staring into your face, looking at nothing but you.

You whimpered a little and let out a small, breathy sob before pursing your lips. “I love you too.” You sounded hesitant but Billy knew it was only from you being scared to actually admit it out loud, to make it real.

Billy slowly leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. He felt your hands come up and wrap around his neck, holding him close to you. Billy knew you were in pain, he knew you were suffering and would be for a while. This wasn't something that just went away but he would be there for you, he wanted to be. He was convinced you were the only one for him, he just prayed that you would let him be.

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Tag List: @kaitlinlexiexx

#my stranger fics #stranger things #Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #mystrangerfics #steve harrington #punk #fic request #dacre montgomery

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