#after being victims to it themselves during protests these past few years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

merakiaes · 3 years

Text

Hate You, Hate You Not - Armitage Hux

Pairing: General Armitage Hux x reader

Requested: By anon.

Prompts: #1 & #58 from the fluff-list.

Warnings/notes: (SHOULD I MAKE A PART 2 WITH MORE ROMANCE IN IT?) This ended up being much longer than I planned so it's most likely very boring and dull😭 Might be a bit, if not a lot, out of character since this is kinda my test-run for Hux and Star Wars in general. Getting the characters mannerisms in might take some practice. Not proofread so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. This is the first time ever that I write for Star Wars and the first time in like 5-6 months that I’m writing in general so I’m a bit rusty. Please reblog and leave comments to keep my motivation going and let me know if you’d like to be added to a Star Wars taglist <3

Wordcount: 5632

Summary: One of Kylo Ren’s many tantrums results in your room being inhabitable for a night, which in turn results in you having to share a room - and bed - with the person you hate the most.

Everyone who had ever, at some point in their lives, worked alongside Kylo Ren in his quest to bring the Order to power, knew how much of a hassle and inconvenience his temper, or lack thereof, could be.

Not much was needed for him to lose his cool and it happened on a much too frequent basis than what was considered normal for a man in his early 30s, at least according to you.

Of course, however, you couldn’t actually tell him that, nor could you think it, with the risk of him probing your mind.

So every time he came back from a failed mission and completely obliterated your hard work, you could do nothing but bite your tongue, clear your head and repair the damages like you’d done oh, so many times before.

That’s what you got for being one of the highest-ranked engineers of the Order, you supposed.

But on this day you would’ve, for the first time in your life, very much preferred to repair the damages left behind by your tantrum-prone leader like you always did. Because if that punishment had to be compared to the one you were now facing, you would’ve chosen the former without even a shadow of a doubt.

But, unfortunately, that was not an option this time around, as the room that had fallen victim to the sizzling beam of Kylo Ren’s lightsaber was your bedroom.

Well, not originally, of course, but sparks had flown from the totaled control panels and a piece of supposedly fireproof metal scrap had caught on fire before you and the other engineers reached the room for a damage-control, starting of as a small flame and then proceeding to spread like wildfire as fire did, in ways completely unbeknownst to you as, like already mentioned, the place was supposed to be safe from fires.

The licking flames had managed to melt through several walls before you got to the scene, and one of those walls was the wall to your bedroom.

It was late when it happened, only fifteen minutes before you were supposed to end your shift, and as you were on the verge of having a mental fucking breakdown, you personally requested an audience with Kylo and were granted permission by him after a very carefully-worded explanation to start early in the morning.

But that only took care of one of your problems, and only temporarily at that. Now you were left with the issue of finding other sleeping accommodations since your room was currently not habitable. You had no choice but to ask for another room and, of course, Hux thought that to be the perfect time to crack a sarcastic joke about throwing you into one of the prisoner cells.

You had never, in all your years of being alive, glared so fiercely at another human being as you did then. And in your moment of anger, you accidentally let your walls down and let your thoughts run freely through your head – your annoyance directed at the General, but also at Kylo Ren, being exposed.

You felt it before you saw it – that little prickle in your head, that little sting of your mind being probed – and only a second later, Kylo Ren turned his masked head in your direction, walked up to you with patronizingly slow steps and spoke:

“I think you’ll find that General Hux’s quarters will suffice for the night, until repairs can be done to your own. He has more than enough space for both of you.”

He turned his head to look at the baffled man standing behind him, all of the attitude he had previously been harboring against you now completely melted away.

“Isn’t that right, General?” Kylo continued asking, giving him the time he needed to regain his composure.

The general in question had never been very good at holding his tongue, not even when receiving orders from superiors, and was quick to protest.

As anyone would’ve been able to guess, that didn’t go very well, and you weren't even gonna try hiding the satisfaction you got from seeing Hux be force-choked against a wall for speaking out of turn.

No matter how good both of you were at hiding your spiteful thoughts toward him, Kylo knew how much the two of you hated him. And more than anything, he knew how much you hated each other.

Kylo had become very predictable to you during the time you had been there and you knew his ways good enough to know that he wouldn’t have wasted petty energy in putting the two most hateful people he knew in the same room if he hadn’t been pushed to do so.

You knew that you weren’t the reason in this scenario, despite the fact that he had probably felt your spite directed towards him, which only left one option; and that option was the bitter, infuriatingly stubborn ginger currently walking by your side.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and glared, clenching and unclenching your fists at your sides in the same manner you had been doing ever since Kylo had ruled his decision final and dismissed you for the night.

His eyes remained trained on the metallic corridor that seemed to be stretched out for miles in front of you and your blood boiled at the sight.

You would’ve lost your shit if he’d had the nerve to even consider looking at you after putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were also on the verge of losing your shit about him having the audacity to ignore you.

You wanted to scream at him like you’d never screamed at anyone before, but you knew that doing that would only fuel the petty grudge Kylo had against the two of you and give him more ways to cause you torment. The only thing you and the general would ever have in common was not wanting that.

But still, what harm could a tiny bit of friendly banter do?

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, Armitage?” The question you’d been sucking on for the past few minutes finally slipped out into the air, making your anger known.

“Don’t call me that.”

“My apologies.” You sarcastically shot back with a dry laugh. “You just couldn’t help yourself, could you, general?”

“No, it was awfully tempting.” Was all that he replied, his eyes not once flickering and neither his stone-cold scowl nor fast-paced stride faltering.

Well, you might have absolutely despised each other but in the very least, you never bothered lying to each other. That had to count for something, right? Not that either of you cared.

No more words were exchanged, and that was probably for the best. Engineers and stormtroopers all moved out of your way as the two of you marched through the corridors, side by side, knowing better at this point than to get on your bad sides when you were together and this obviously angry both with each other and in general.

Soon enough, you finally reached the corridor in which Hux’s sleeping quarters were located and once the mechanic doors slid open, you pushed yourself past him into the room before he even got the chance to react.

He fumed behind you as he watched you make yourself at home, dropping your dirty jacket on his perfectly made bed.

“You’ll take the floor, then?” You asked as you turned around, crossing your arms over your chest and shooting him a forced smile.

“Hardly.” He spat, eyes narrowing, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes in return.

“You must be a real hit with the ladies with those manners.”

At that, he stepped further into his room, allowing the sensory-triggered door to shut behind him, successfully shutting the two of you in together.

“I don’t have time for fooling around with women.” He spat out the last word with such malice that you automatically raised an eyebrow.

“Well, that explains it.” You mused, the corner of your lip tugging upwards ever so slightly.

“Explains what, exactly?” His eyes narrowed further, and this time it was his turn to cross his arms.

“That stick you have up your ass.” You wasted no time in shooting back, and before he got a chance to reply, you continued. “I know this might be news to you seeing as you’re, well, you, but gentlemen are supposed to sacrifice their comfort and offer themselves to take the floor when a lady, due to unfortunate circumstances, is forced to stay in their room.”

You sarcastically smiled at him and sank down his bed, something that he, judging by the snarl overtaking his face, didn’t appreciate.

“You, a lady? That will be the day.” He scoffed. “Even calling you a woman is a stretch with your mannerisms.”

You could only roll your eyes.

“Well, I’m not sharing a bed with you.” The glare that had temporarily been exchanged for a teasing smirk returned to your face. “I’d rather share a bed with Millicent.”

As you said that, you picked up a single strand of cat hair from his bed, held it up for further inspection and raised your lip in disgust.

He stared at you dead serious, hands clasped behind his back and eyes burning holes into the side of your face.

“You’re allergic to cats.” He pointed out, making your head whip back around to face him with a glare equally as fierce as the one you were met with.

“Yes, that’s my point.” You deadpanned. “But it would seem that said point just went right over your thick-skulled head.”

“Do you think I am any happier about this than you are?” He scowled, and you stood up, slowly approaching him and coming to a stop right in front of him.

He took a small step back, a move that made your lip tug upward ever so slightly. The fact that he was so obviously not as tough as he wanted people to believe gave you a special kind of satisfaction and he knew it, judging by the way he only turned stiffer after that.

“You should be.” You smiled sweetly at him, keeping your eyes connected to his. “Because you’re sure as hell lucky I haven’t choked the life out of you yet for getting us into this situation in the first place.”

He glared and you glared right back, challenging, no, daring him to fight back. You knew that he wanted to, you could see that he wanted to, but in the end, not even he was that stupid.

So he said nothing, and once you realized you had finally managed to successfully back him into a corner, you backed away from him again and plastered on another forced, overly sweet smile.

“Now, I need to take a shower. I reek of burnt plastic.” You stated flatly and pushed past him, making a beeline for the one extra door in the room that you could only assume was his bathroom.

You heard the squeak of his shoes rubbing against the floor as he quickly turned around behind you, and then came the determined steps and the proximity of his body closing in on you. However, before he got the chance to object or reach you, you entered his bathroom and slammed the door shut in his face, smiling contently to yourself as you listened to the muffled string of curses that followed.

You didn’t spend any more time thinking about it, though, not wasting any time before doing what you came in there to do.

You got out of your horrid-smelling clothes, released your equally as nasty-smelling hait from its ponytail and stepped into the shower.

If there was one thing you appreciated a little extra about living at the Starkiller Base, it was that everyone used the same scented soap. Because that meant that you wouldn’t have to go around smelling specifically like Hux, but rather just like you always smelled.

Once you finished washing your hair and body, you had to stop and think for a bit.

Your clothes obviously still reeked and needed a proper wash before they could be worn again, and you obviously couldn’t go naked.

After much thought back and forth, you finally settled with your own leggings as they were the one piece of clothing from your previous attire that smelled the least of smoke, and a plain black, long-sleeved undershirt that you found in a pile of Hux’s clean laundry.

Once you vad gotten dressed, braided your hair and re-entered the bedroom accompanied by a stream of steam, you found it to be empty, Hux nowhere in sight.

You couldn’t deny that you wondered where he’d gone off to, but you shook your head free of his face pretty quickly, settling with believing that he just went to take his frustration out on some poor stormtrooper or low-rank intern like he so often did when things didn’t go his way, much like Kylo Ren beat the shit out of any control panel he could get his hands on.

While you awaited his return, you occupied yourself with going around the room and lighting the small night-lamps like you normally did in your own room before going to bed.

That obviously didn’t take long, however, so you were soon enough once again left alone with your boredom and started walking around the room, inspecting all of Hux’s belongings.

You realized pretty quickly that he was not a person to whom inanimate things had much sentimental value, as he definitely didn’t have much to his name aside from the basic interior that all of the sleeping quarters on the base had.

He had a ring on his drawer, a few books in one of his two bookshelves while the other stood empty, a small bed in a corner for his cat, clothes in his wardrobe, and that was pretty much it. He had no pictures of family, no real personal belongings that could signify any kind of emotional value.

But then again, who did in these parts?

“Is that my shirt?”

You jumped when you heard the sudden voice behind you, quickly turning around where you stood twirling the ring you had found in the light of the lamp standing beside you.

Your eyes found his form immediately, shocked meeting stern.

“Why are you wearing my shirt?” He almost instantly repeated himself when not getting a reply the first time, slowly beginning to walk in your direction with his hands clasped behind his back.

You quickly put the ring back down on the dresser and turned towards him, regaining your composure.

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed, my room and everything in it was burnt to a crisp. The smokey smell on my clothes was giving me a headache and kind of would have ruined the purpose of taking a shower so when I just so conveniently noticed a pile of clean clothes, I helped myself.” You shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, and to you, it wasn’t.

Hux, however, didn’t seem amused in the slightest.

“Yes, you seem to have a habit of thinking you’re entitled to everything you want.” He spat back at you, coming to a stop while there was still a good amount of distance between the two of you.

Any chill you had previously had melted right off and your annoyance quickly returned at the sound of his words.

“Oh, do excuse me. I just thought one headache would be enough.” You retorted and rolled your eyes, before sighing and crossing your arms over your chest. “So, how are we doing this? It’s late and I need to be up early to see to the repairs.”

“I thought that I made myself clear.” Hux was quick to scoff, his glare not faltering for as much as a second. “I’m not giving you my bed.”

Once again, all you could do was roll your eyes. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to suck it up then.” You stated flatly and sat down on the bed, wasting no time in starting to divide the pillows into two piles rather than one.

You took a few seconds to adjust the pillows to suit your needs before looking back up, eyebrow raised at the fact that he had yet to say or do anything.

Your eyes once again met his and you almost laughed out loud at the sight you were faced with, but thankfully managed to control yourself and avoid making the situation even harder than it already was.

Long story short, Hux had never looked more horrified than he did in that moment.

He basically looked at you like you had killed his cat, and that was putting it lightly.

You took a few seconds to just enjoy watching him squirm and silently scramble to make sense of the situation, but even you knew when enough was enough and raised a questioning eyebrow at him in an attempt to get him moving.

“Well? What’s it going to be?” You asked. “It’s either this or the floor, just like it was for me.”

Hux opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. He obviously hadn’t been expecting you to actually agree on sharing his bed with him and now that you had, he was left at loss for words as he clearly hadn’t been preparing for anything other than you sleeping on the floor.

But after a good moment of just standing there and looking like an idiot, he finally picked himself back up, squared his shoulders and walked around the bed to the other side with frustrated strides and a snarling lip.

The feigned confidence melted right off, however, when he reached his destination and awkwardly shuffled into bed while simultaneously avoiding your amused and mocking stare, silently grabbing the extra blanket that was folded upon his bedside table.

Both of you laid down on your backs and a heavy silence fell like a thick blanket over the room. The only sound you could hear for a few moments were each other’s breaths and your own heartbeats. For a moment, only for a microscopical moment, you were actually on your way to admit to yourself that it was kind of nice.

But that thought went flying out the window just as quickly as it had knocked on the door of your mind when Hux broke the silence by beginning to adjust himself to get ready to sleep, and in the process of doing so made the active choice to tug the pillows from right under your head.

The back of your head hit the mattress with a soft thump and you closed your eyes, your lips pulling into a straight, tight line and one, sharp breath being released through your nose as you attempted to keep your cool.

You took a moment to calm down, before you turned your head to his side of the bed where he now laid with his back to you and tugged the pillows back – maybe with a little too much force than necessary.

Hux had quickly rolled over to his other side to take them back and in anger and an eagerness to get to sleep, you exclaimed: “Stop stealing the pillows!”

He met you with a stare cold enough to have anyone else shaking in their boots and spat back. “They’re my pillows.”

You grumbled under your breath and let go of one of the two pillows, letting him pull it back to his side while you held on to the last one.

You stared at each other for a moment, both of you eventually coming to a silent, mutual agreement that you were too tired to fight and therefore he'd let you keep the pillow you were holding on to as if your life depended on it.

He, once again, laid down and turned his back to you, his hands holding on to the pillows under his head while you struggled to get comfortable again, this time with only one pillow.

“Why is your bed so damn hard?” You muttered under your breath as you angrily shoved your elbow into the mattress in an attempt to make it more comfortable – as if that was ever going to help.

“Stop complaining.” He only snapped back.

“How could I when I’m stuck in a bed with you?”

“You could’ve asked for other accommodations when you had the chance.”

“And what, be the next victim of Ren’s lightsaber?” You scoffed. “I’m the one in charge of the repairs that are needed every time he throws a wobbly. I’ve seen the kind of damage that thing can do and I’m not in any hurry to find myself at the receiving end of it.”

You muttered the last part under your breath as you finally managed to get relatively comfortable, plopping back down on your back and folding your hands over your stomach.

“How did you know I’m allergic to cats, anyway?” The question spilled out before you could stop yourself, and before you could even register that it was on the way.

Where did that even come from? Cats weren’t even close to being the subject at hand.

Hux didn’t seem to care much about the random change of subject, however, simply muttering back a reply. “You start sniffling and scratching your arms every time you’re in the same room as me for more than five minutes.”

He was clearly tired. Tired in general or just tired of you, you didn’t really know, but you guessed that it was a mixture of both since that was the case for you.

“Maybe I’m just allergic to you.” You muttered back with a shrug, even though he couldn’t see you, and he scoffed at that.

“Had that been the case I’m fairly certain it would go both ways and, unlike you, I don’t go around oozing snot everywhere I go.”

“I don’t go oozing snot everywhere.” You calmly protested, throwing the back of his head a disapproving glare before turning to lay on your side so that your back was now turned to his.

He didn’t say anything else and neither did you, sleep coming in and catching you completely by surprise and having you knocked out within the next two minutes.

When you woke up early that next morning, Hux was unsurprisingly already gone, Millicent instead laying in his place and looking right at you.

With a disgusted snarl and hesitant movements, you reached over to the other side of the bed and awkwardly patted her head twice, probably very much in the incorrect manner as you had no experience whatsoever with animals.

You got out of bed after that, put on your jacket and shoes, and wasted no time in getting to work once you’d gotten some food into your system, your team joining you in the damage-inflicted area to start on repairs like you’d done so many times before.

Everything was going fine and dandy, just a light-reckon day that started off like any other – if you didn’t count waking up in Hux’s bed with his cat – but a few hours into your workday, the unmistakable sound of Kylo Ren’s heavy steps could be heard echoing through the entire corridor you found yourself working in.

A big share of the Order’s pilots had been either killed or badly hurt a few days prior in an ambush. No one had expected any pilots to be needed for at least a few days but Kylo had gotten a sudden lead on the map that would take him to Luke Skywalker and was now walking around the base recruiting anyone capable of helping him get what he wanted.

Unfortunately for you, you were not only a highly-ranked engineer, but also a pretty decent pilot, and couldn’t say anything in protest when you were whisked away to a ship.

As anyone who wasn’t driven by an unhealthy obsession would have been able to guess, the lead was just too good to be true with a way too simple access.

Just like the last lead, this one fell through when it was revealed to be another ambush. You weren’t completely sure what happened, but over the comms, you had heard something about Leia Organa and some scavenger.

You didn’t have time to think about retired war heroes though, no matter how much you’d love to pry and the get in on the gossip, as you had to shoot yourself through a big fleet of Resistance starfighter corps, barely getting through with your ship intact.

Your fellow pilots were shot down one by one, only a small amount of you managing to get out of there. And even then, you were met by more starfighter corps just as quickly as you’d gotten away from the last line.

Everything was just a mess after that. You weren’t able to get through to anyone over the comms, only barely being able to make out a “pull back!” before your comm system was blown to pieces along with one of your main engines.

Along with several other ships, you were forced to crash-land on a small planet filled with thick woods and when your ship collided with the ground, your head slammed into the controls, rendering you unconscious for who knows how long.

By the time you came back to it, you were hanging upside down, the only thing preventing you from falling down being the seatbelt keeping you strapped in.

You struggled to get out of there but you managed, and had to take a moment to get your surroundings to stop spinning before moving forward to look for survivors as well as a ship that wasn’t completely beyond salvation.

You weren’t sure who you’d find, but the person you’d shared a bed with the previous night was definitely the last person you’d expect to have crashed in the same place as you.

And still, you recognized his ship immediately. After all, you were the one who had personalized it to fit his liking.

Lucky for you, his ship seemed to have gotten a pretty soft landing. As you circled around it, you were able to determine that no major engines had been blown out. Damaged? Definitely. But they looked intact enough to at least be able to put some more distance between you and the Resistance pilots and get you to a safer place. Hopefully, the inside would be as untouched as the outside.

The ramp was lowered to the ground but didn’t look broken, so you wasted no time in jogging inside.

The lights were out completely in the entrance area, and just flickering in the ceiling when you came further in.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the piloting pit was that the pilot was not breathing. How could you tell from that far a distance? Well, let’s just say that something that was not supposed to be stuck in his eye, was stuck in his eye.

Upon further inspection, you noticed another body on the floor. However, this one was very much alive.

You would’ve expected to be met by a desperate “help me”, maybe even some begging and pleading or in the very least a “please”, but instead, even when in the process of bleeding out on the floor, Hux narrowed his eyes at you as you approached him and asked you with ragged breaths:

“Is that my shirt?”

You panted as you dropped to your knees at his side, still pretty shaken up from your own crash. “What? No.” You replied in a breath, and you wasted no time in starting to inspect his injuries.

“Yes, it is.”

“Why would I be wearing your shirt?” You asked simply, struggling to see in the dark as the flickering lights weren’t providing much assistance by means of light.

“That’s my shirt.” He kept insisting, and flinched when your hand made contact with his lower abdomen.

Only then did your eyes register the glimmering piece of metal through your blurred and disoriented vision, sticking out of his side.

You flinched at the sight, not needing any more light than you had to know that it was really bad.

Your heart suddenly picked up in speed in your chest, and your hands began shaking as they became covered in his blood.

You had never been in the middle of the action before now, you’d always just been surrounded by metal and electricity. The most exciting thing you’d ever experienced was when a new engineer circuited a control panel the wrong way, resulting in it blowing up right by your workplace.

But it wasn’t the action in itself that had your heart about ready to burst through your chest, nor was it the blood in general, but rather the fact that it was his blood covering your hands.

His life was completely dependent on you at this moment and you had absolutely no idea how to behave accordingly.

But if there was something you knew, it was that the last thing you were supposed to do was to show a dying man your panic, so you took a deep breath and tried your hardest to steady your racing heart, going back to the conversation at hand.

“How could you tell the difference, really?” You asked. “All of our shirts look the same. All black, all equally as sufficient when used to stop blood flows.”

As you said that last part, you released another breath and ripped off a big chunk of the lower part of the shirt you were wearing.

A shirt that was, in fact, Hux's.

The man in question let his head fall back against the wall that he was propped against and his eyes squeezed shut when feeling your hands return to his side.

“Do you always wear shirts several sizes too big?” He managed to get out through clenched teeth and you replied without missing a beat.

“There was a mix-up in the laundry room.”

“So it isn’t your shirt?” He continued to be persistent and despite the seriousness of the situation, you couldn’t help but to let a small smile slip.

“Do you want to keep fighting about whether or not this shirt is mine or would you rather maybe, oh, I don’t know, focus on getting the hell out of here?” You asked him lightly and at that, he raised his head to meet your eyes with a distrusting glare.

“Why are you helping me?”

You raised your eyebrow at him, sparing just a second to meet his eyes. “You have a piece of metal stuck in your side, why the hell would I not help you?” You asked and as quickly as you had looked up, you looked back down at your hands to see what you were doing.

“You hate me, and I hate you.” He deadpanned, and you couldn’t deny you felt your heart tug in your chest.

“Who told you I hated you?” You asked, and listened as he let out a dry, struggling laugh.

“You did. On countless occasions.”

He hissed when you accidentally bumped your hand against the piece of metal. You quietly apologized but didn’t stop, knowing you didn’t have much time before the enemy would catch up with you.

“Thinking that I’m entitled to everything I want isn’t the only bad habit I have. I also have a tendency to overexaggerate.” You joked with a smile. “I do find you insufferably infuriating, though.”

Another chuckle left his lips. “Likewise.” He said and dropped his head back against the wall.

You said nothing more, ripping another two pieces off of the shirt, tying them together and wrapping it around his waist like you had the first piece. You tightened this knot significantly more than the first one, though, right above the piece of metal, and just as quickly as he had relaxed, he jerked back forward with a yell.

“I need to stop the bleeding, you need to keep still.” You hurriedly scolded and sternly pushed him back down by his chest.

He muttered bitterly in return, but didn’t protest.

“I bet you’re enjoying this.” He seethed, and you raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Whenever I’m feeling down, I just think back to the multiple times I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing you being force-thrown across a room by Ren. Puts a smile on my face every time. But that doesn’t automatically mean I want you to die. So stop wallowing in your internalized self-hatred and put your hand over mine.” You told him, trying your hardest to keep a lighthearted attitude, more so for your own sake than his at this point as you were literally about to pass out.

But he did as told, contributing with the strength he had left when you got to your feet and started pulling him up and into one of the seats that were still intact.

He put a trembling hand over yours and in turn, you put your other one over his and pushed down. He hissed and you gave him a moment to adjust, and when you were sure he was pressing hard enough with his own hand, you slowly removed both of yours and fastened his seatbelt.

“Keep pressure and hold on tight. This is most likely going to be a rough ride.” You warned him, and he slowly looked up at you through a mess of ginger hair.

“It can’t be any worse than the ride here.” He retorted and you nodded, taking that as a “go ahead”.

You wasted no time in getting into the pilot’s seat after pulling the previous pilot out, as well as the thick tree branch on which his head had been impaled, and started up the controls. It took a few tries to get out of the hole the ship hade gotten stuck in when crashing, but soon enough you were up in the sky.

With a bit of dumb luck, you eventually reached your destination and got brought back in to the base by your team of fellow engineers, all ready to repair the wrecked ship.

Hux was immediately taken to the medical bay while you stayed behind to help with the ships, and from two ends of the base, the two of you silently and separately came to realize that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t hate each other as much as you thought, after all.

#hux x reader #hux imagine #hux #armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux imagine #general hux #general hux imagine #general hux x reader #domnhall gleeson #star wars #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #kylo ren #knights of ren #the first order

562 notes · View notes

flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

break my mind’s eye VII — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

JEON JUNGKOOK TIES THE KNOT!

‘It’s a sad day indeed as the most eligible bachelor in the city is now officially married! The ceremony took place in a garden like-setting on the grounds of the old Jeon manor where we could see the cherry blossoms falling on Kim Belle’s veil.

The couple absolutely glowed in the afternoon light and Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off his new bride. While this relationship came as a surprise to everyone, many sources speculate that the two had been liaising for years in secret. Leave it the Jeon family to be as extravagant yet discreet as possible.

As per the family’s tradition, they will be staying in the manor for two nights before going back to their shared home.

Belle’s dress had been a little underwhelming to some of us until we got word that her waistline is encrusted with approximately 96 5 carat diamonds, the whole dress designed and created by Madame Saito, her mentor and one of the leading designers of our country. So appearances are quite deceiving as we’re looking at an easily $20, 000 wedding dress adorned by the new heiress.

The whole ceremony moved as smoothly as the falling flowers. Definitely a step up from the previous few articles written for Kim Belle in poor taste. The new Mrs. Jeon takes the award for being the most elegantly majestic bride of the year.’

“Sorry, sir?” Yoongi asked to make sure he heard Jungkook ask him to come over to his office for a private meeting. There were two ways this could go. Either a bullet in his head or a bullet he has to put in someone else’s head. Namjoon told him a lot of stories of how newer members of any mafia made you kill someone at least once to test true loyalty. Because really one could die to save themselves from any more misery but living their entire life responsible for a murder was a whole other story.

Jungkooks’ expression did not falter in the slightest, still in his proper wedding attire with a light tint on his lips from Belle’s lipstick. “It’s only going to be a few minutes.” He walked past him having every expectation of being followed.

Yoongi did not hesitate to continue walking along the large regal hallway before turning right into a dark rustic office. A much older man already situated himself on the couch while two guards stood on each side of a figure resting on his knees in front of the table.

The usual bright and luxurious light in the rest of the mansion unfortunately did not reach this room. Scent of tobacco mixed in with expensive cologne and sweat swirling in a dark room adorned with deep brown furniture. This was a place of purely business. Despite the pretty lavenders on Jungkooks’ breast pockets matching the flowers in Belle’s hair.

“Park Jeongsu…he was found in midst of exchanging letters to the mayor.” The older male spoke in a gruff tone possibly from the smoke infecting his throat.

“Thank you, uncle.” Jungkook stared down at the wooden box lined in purple velvet. “Do you see that? That’s what you called loyalty.” Fingers traced the outline of some diagram on the top that Yoongi could quite catch but it shone in gold. “Chul has been mingling with the likes of our own gang…” He scoffed with a smile. “Clever.”

Yoongis’ heart seemed quickly tumble down into a tight cage situated somewhere deep in an endless abyss. There was more sources for the mayor. Just how many rats did they have in this place? The man understandably was given minimal information so it was easy for him to stay unknowing and a little confused.

“I despise disloyal people, Jeongsu. I really do.” He attempted to give the trembling male an apologetic look but anyone could sense there was no sincerity. “Especially on one of most joyous occasions of my life, I expected all my soldiers to stay by my side. To protect me as I have tried to protect you and your families. I’ve always tried to be a gracious leader.” Jungkook shrugged. “If it were my father, your own balls would be stuffed down your throat until you choke to death.”

The mere description and Yoongi saw the male on his knees breathing heavily, the cloth around his mouth inflating at every breath.

“Of course today I can’t get my hands dirty.” He moved both hands away from the box. “I need to be gracious and generous today in honor of my new beloved wife.” Jungkook leaned on the edge of the table by his hands. “Thankfully my uncle was nice enough to question you while I was gone…” He gestured towards his blood soaked shirt and swollen eye. “So if you’ve come this far to me, that means you’re of no use.”

The words barely settled into the room but muffled protesting began from the vulnerable target. Even if the cloth wasn’t hindering his clarity, Jungkook and his uncle probably would not have had any remorse to step away. This wasn’t a family or business of mercy.

Flickering open the wooden box, Jungkook in his most casual aura picked up the shining silver object. Each bullet placed inside with heartwarming care before the older mans’ voice slithered through the intimate moment.

“Jungkook…” His uncle warned with a stern tone, smoke riddling the air around him. “It’s bad luck to execute someone on your wedding day.”

“I know.” He muttered without sparing him a sideways glance. Once everything had been prepared, Jungkook walked around the table and stood in front of the traitor. The gun handed out in Yoongis’ direction.

All eyes were on the male now and he never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. He had been stuck in a trunk before so that was saying something. Eyes flickered from the older man to Jungkook to the male who clearly had been on his side. Of course refusing to do so would end with both their lives taken and then this whole operation would combust back into nothingness.

You’ve shot guns before. Not at innocent people.

No one was truly innocent. At least that was sentiment he plastered in his mind hiding away all the warnings and alarms from his conscience. Padding closer to where Jungkook stood, his heart raced faster at every step swallowing down any protest struggling to push through.

The thrashing faded away into a meek sob as Yoongi faced the man. Much to his discontent, the lack of lines on his face and the broken brightness in his eyes showed that he was but a boy. Possibly a tad younger than Jungkook himself or his age. Either way his mind now haunted itself with the prospect of killing a near child for the sake of his operation. Was it worth to take a life for this?

He was not the only one risking things however. This boy was one of many who were already victims of Jungkooks’ rule, at least Yoongi knew the one kneeling before him had fought for a cause.

Clicking back the safety, Yoongi tightened his jaw ignoring the tears streaming down their cheek and the giant eyes staring back at him.

For a few seconds the younger male calmed himself to an almost peaceful breathing state. It was brief and hard to truly notice but Yoongi saw the little nod he gave him. Reassuring the older male that this needed to be done. One life to protect the many.

In a rush of adrenaline Yoongi pulled the trigger. It wasn’t as loud as the guns he received in the precinct. Perfect for quick and quiet executions especially during these occasions. For a moment he could pretend that nothing even happened. Though blood leaking from the hole made on the others’ forehead spoke a truer story.

To the side he dropped, light thud echoing in the room before nothing but silence plunged comfortably.

“The den in Gongneung needs to be put under heavy security. I remember him one of the boys who was patrolling there.” Jungkook nodded towards the unmoving figure before fixated his gaze on the two guards who immediately bowed in response. “And I want a private meeting with the person who brought him in as a tribute.” He finally turned to Yoongi, expression softening a little at how frozen the man was. Carefully he patted him on the back. “You did well, Yoongi. I know being a medical apprentice, this isn’t exactly your line of work but I need to see whether it’s safe to have you around.” A small smile played on his lips. “I suppose I can always trust Belle’s judgement.”

Yoongi forced him to meet the younger male’s gaze, an awkward smile flickered but quickly faded away as he dumbly watched Jungkook take the gun away from him and put it on the table gently.

The boy lay limp on the dark wood slowly being painted with blood, deepening its hue into a deep wine glistening in the lowlight. Definitely not a sight supposed to be seen on an auspicious day.

Jungkook watched the blood ooze across the room and merely stood over it to move closer to the door. “Clean this up. No more tasks until I get to the mansion.” He ordered simply. “Yoongi…”

His attention flicked back to reality in a rush of cold air before following Jungkook along like a confused puppy.

As the bright light almost burned his eyes, Yoongi pretended that he just woke up from a really bad dream and nothing ever happened. He learned how to do that very quickly in his career especially after he shot his first person in the field. Not the healthiest way to cope but his pay did not actually cover for therapy.

Jungkook dug his hands into his pockets looking out the window. A bright, perfect day to be married after so long of hearing one proposal after the other. It was finally done. Eyes flickered towards the raven haired male who finally caught up to stand next to him. “Unfortunately I have to ask you another favor as well, Yoongi.”

“Does it involve me killing anyone? Can I have a five minute break first?”

The younger male chuckled before shaking his head. “No…it’s—it’s a little more delicate than that.”

Yoongis’ brows furrowed, all of his attention now dissipated into what he was going to say. Though he hated to admit he had a small idea of who it involved.

Jungkook stammered before glancing around the hallway and sighing. “It’s about the wedding night…”

The first thing she took off was her heavy earrings as they were led into one of the private rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Apparently Boyoung wanted to have a small word with the two of them before they went off to bed. Her limbs felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets with how exhausted she was. Who knew just wearing a heavy dress and walking around would take so much out of you.

Belle understand on a whole new level just how models felt having to create such a strong demeanor that even pain could not pass across their features. Hours spent on chatting people up and others admiring the now famous waistline on her dress. The girl loved the dress more because of the fact Saito made it just for her made her happy enough.

Jungkooks’ hand permanently set on the small of her back. The man had disappeared for a while during the party but from the way his face tensed when he walked back here, she knew it had to do with work.

The guide opened a door for them and they were led into a room similar to the one Belle dressed up in for the ceremony.

Giving a kind smile to the guide, she walked and placed her earrings on the small table next to the bathroom. For the moment the couple had finally stood on their lonesome with no one to disturb them.

The young lord took the opportunity to pounce at his new bride and take her lips into his.

Her veil toppled off her head from the force and Belle couldn’t help but giggle a little into the kiss. “Not now.” She whispered.

“A few minutes.” Jungkook breathed out pulling her veil off gently before pressing a few more pecks on her soft lips. Whatever strain tightened up his nerves significantly loosened being around his only source for relaxation.

Belle hummed in protest, pressing against his chest to have him pause. “Your aunt is going to be here in a few minutes. We need to be decent.”

Jungkook merely smirked and gave her another peck just at the moment the door opened.

Boyoung gave her nephew a cheeky smile as he backed shyly before closing the door behind them.

“What did you want to talk about?” Belle asked with a sweet smile gracing her lips.

The older woman let out a sigh but still kept a decent smile gracing her features. She looked over at Jungkook who hung his head for a moment. “Dear…” Her tone rung grim and serious. A rare sound coming from a lady who always looked extremely happy every day. Once again the usual habit of holding Belle’s hands when she spoke of something. “The Jeon family has been around for many generations. Possibly longer than the city itself.” Boyoung chuckled lightly. “So with that age and prestige, there comes…a few traditions that lived on for our family’s continual survival.”

Belle nodded, trying to search her expression with the hope that was just some simple task she had to undertake. Maybe eating more fruits or balancing stuff on her head. Except the other womans’ voice sounded far too serious for something like that. Eyes flickered over to Jungkook who had his arms folded over his chest and his expression softened.

“Family members must be married at 21…” Boyoung repeated the tradition the couple already fulfilled. “They also need to carry on the line of the Jeon family.” Her grip tightened on her hands. “Do you have any conditions that may prevent you from having a baby?”

She stammered lightly. “No—I don’t think so.”

Boyoung nodded before giving her a smile except it wasn’t as bright more consoling.

“Why are we talking about babies now?” Belle smiled nervously.

She glanced over at Jungkook for a moment who tightened his jaw, seemingly unable to look Belle straight in the eye. “You understand the world we live in, dear. At some point, you both will need to dedicate yourself to your own lives just like Jungkooks’ parents did. Which is why we make a point to marry and have children in their brisk days.”

Belle’s lips parted for a moment, sensing where this now dreaded conversation was headed. “When—when do you want us to have children?”

Boyoung took a deep breath as the younger female had the urge to yank her hands away. “There is a ceremony on the wedding night for every Jeon wedding. I’ve done it, Jungkooks’ mother has done it and many of our ancestors. You are to—lay with one another that will give you a child.” She spoke carefully. “Because of a few incidents in the past, there is a strict rule that this ceremony must have two witnesses. Preferably people that the couple trusts not to fib or lie about the consummation.”

Her whole body felt like it burst into flames but no one noticed or cared. A little voice inside her screamed out so loud, Belle was worried she might actually mimic the volume right there and then. She really thought this conversation would not happen until a few years after the wedding, maybe when her heart wore down to the subject. How much more of her naivety was going to be shredded to waste before she realized these people did not care who they hurt. Especially when it came to their ideals.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, dear but—we must prepare tonight.” She caressed her cheek.

Belle could almost feel a slight sting on her skin at the seemingly affectionate movement. Blood curdling screams still echoed through her insides but on the outside, she nodded as any captive trying to live would do. Just nod and hope it ends quick.

Boyoung immediately smiled using the minor response as a reassurance boost before grinning at Jungkook. “I will see you both bright and early tomorrow.” She announced walking out of the door.

The couple now standing in a pit of thick silence.

“You knew about this.” Belle whispered, eyes growing glossier by the second as they stood face to face with one another. “Is that the part you conveniently forgot? The part where I’m supposed to make children for you tonight too.” She winced while Jungkook was trying conjure up words that would be most appropriate to reassure her.

Unfortunately the way their family worked and the way society worked were so far off from each other that even he felt helpless against it. “Belle, we’ve been doing it without protection this whole time. What’s going to be so different now?”

“They want me to be impregnated!” She shouted making the male hurriedly glance over at the door worried someone might be listening in. “With witnesses…” She whispered under her trembling breath.

“Baby, calm down.” He raised his hands to cup her cheeks, give her some form of comfort that he could while still making Boyoung and the rest of his family happy.

Belle roughly pushed him away, her bracelet tinkling and tugging at the fabric of his shirt when she moved back. “No that’s why you chose me, isn’t it?” Voice shook down to her very core as she yanked away from Jungkook attempting to hold her hand. “You wouldn’t feel bad if I was in display as opposed to someone you actually cared about.”

The lord paused in his tracks for a moment feeling his heart clench at the dark thought swirling in his wifes’ head. “I don’t want to do this just as much as you, B.” His words faded more into a mutter trying to keep the conversation private because he knew with all his soul that there was one person pressing their ear against the door. Thankfully most of these doors in the mansion were decently sound-proof. “You think I want people to see us like that?” He grabbed her by the cheeks now forcing to keep her close, noses just brushing against each other. “This is my family. You should know more than anyone that we can do everything for family.”

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head, breathing out a small sob and attempting to pull away from him again but his hands were firm to keep her still. “Don’t do that, this is not the same. It’s a baby—”

“I know.” He whispered, her pulse pounding against his palm making his stomach drop. “I do care about you. I care about you a lot…”

“No you don’t—” Belle hated that she was not just feeling anger pump through her veins but fear. Genuine fear. The permanency of what they were about to do could terrify anyone but at least normal people had the chance to say no or turn back.

“I do.”

She took a deep breath gently pushed his hands away. “If you did care about me…we wouldn’t be married. And I wouldn’t be preparing to be bred like an animal.” Swallowing down the painful lump in her throat despite the tears already trailing down her cheeks. People cried at weddings after all but rarely for this reason.

Before Jungkook could say another word Belle rushed away into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it almost made even him jump.

No. No no no no no no no no no this was wrong. Of all the fucking things Yoongi witnessed in his entire life, this made him nauseous even thinking about it.

Witnessing impregnation. That’s what they called it, the men quietly smoking at the open area near the bedroom it was going to happen. The excited bastards looked to be about the age when it was acceptable in their time to behave in this manner, chin sagging down to their toes.

So along with mass selling drugs, the Jeon family loved impregnating their women in front of other people. How unsurprisingly disappointing.

The worst part was that Yoongi had a feeling Belle wasn’t a long-time girlfriend of Jungkook. He wasn’t even sure if the two were a real couple. But a child is fucking real. This wasn’t a fantasy game anymore for status, this was solidifying a future that the woman probably didn’t even want.

Silence plunged into the room when from the corner of his eye a lavender adorned figure stepped in next to Jungkooks’ aunt.

His plump lips curled up into a smile at the older female, bowing down before a grim expression flashed across his face and Yoongi immediately knew why he was here.

Jimin looked around at the people in the room and his heart dropped seeing the chortling men at the corner. He prayed to the high heavens none of them were going to be in the booth observing this horrendous ceremony. Instead his eyes flickered to the man he hoped was Yoongi. “Witness?” He asked briefly. Much to his somewhat relaxation, Yoongi nodded.

“This your first time?” One of the older man asked the two males.

They both agreed shortly and the older man laughed.

“Oh it’s better than it sounds. In all my experiences, they both loved it. Sometimes it’s a sweet affair.” He smiled.

“And other times?” Yoongi asked daringly.

Unfortunately the men shifted uncomfortably, the slightly younger ones cleared their throats while the older ones looked more grim than normal.

“Virgins are the worst to endure.” The oldest one there spoke up, shaking and sitting on the chair. “Crying…blood…those are the ones you need to worry for the most.”

“We haven’t had a virgin in a long time though.” A more springy man spoke up. “A few of us suggested that the mating ceremony should not be mixed in with losing one’s virginity. Not much fun for the to-be mother or father.”

Yoongi swallowed down thickly, their casual tone about this whole mess making him even more nauseous.

The conversation was immediately paused when Boyoung padded back into the room. “It’s time now, boys. Into the booth.” She muttered almost under her breath gesturing towards to the gap on the left of the entrance.

Taking calculated steps one after the other, Yoongi simply followed the lavender adorned male through the small opening into a tiny booth. Their shoulders brushing against each other as they observed the beautiful designed window, vectors formulating the letter ‘J’ mixed with butterflies and flowers.

However through the window was something far less pleasant.

Silence diseased the large room. Belle was left to hear her own hurdling thoughts just to stay sane. From the corner of her eye she noticed the shifting through the open window with a designed barrier to create some kind of class to this horrid tradition.

His hand pushed her chin so her gaze could be fixated on him. “It’s just you and me, okay?” Jungkook whispered. “Just us.”

Like a brainwashing scheme where Belle was stuck in a river between a bank of fantasy and a bank of reality. They were not alone. She could feel the familiar eyes burning right into core. But what was so new about pretending? She pretended this to a point where her entire life was now dedicated to the man before giving no chance of another life.

If Jungkook couldn’t get out this then how could she ever think the same? It wasn’t like she could run away either, there was no one around to help her. No one to stop this.

Hand gently cupped her cheek before leaning in for an initiating kiss, light warmth spreading through her. His lips became so familiar for comfort nowadays that Belle lost a little of her conscious sense for her own peace of mind.

However this was not meant to be an act of love or even attraction. She was reminded of this when Jungkook pushed the fabric of her dress up without warning. “I’m sorry.” He whispered in her ear. No this was a responsibility. A chore to get done on a to-do list curated for the young lord.

Made to lie on her back, Belle’s vision grew blurry feeling her legs being spread apart with the utmost care but hardly any of the warmth she usually remembered. Then there came the burn through her entrance as he pushed in. A trembling breath passed through her lips struggling to keep composure in such a vulnerable position.

Walls ached the deeper he moved in, his one hand gripping at the sheets until his hips stilled once she was completely full with his already throbbing cock.

Her gaze flickered up to the cherry blossom paintings on the ceiling, pretending a cool spring breeze touching her face and the sound of water flowing. This isn’t real. For a second Belle forced herself to drown into a pool of fantasy. This wasn’t real. The pain faded minutes ago and so did her sense of consciousness.

She wasn’t here, arms pinned down by strong hands and hot breath cascading down her neck. No it was back at the boutique. Belle spending hours sewing her favourite daffodil yellow dress with a tall cup of iced coffee and her hair in a comfortable bun.

Her head was pulled back into reality when Jungkook pressed a kiss on her lips and it all poured back into her. Legs aching from the spread, her heat a little numb from the friction while no sound passed her lips except for light heaving.

Yoongi struggled to control his heavy breathing as the scene took place before him. The man felt like a prisoner witnessing his inmate being beaten. He just had to watch cruel reality play out it’s painful dance. Having the stomach for it was not his biggest issue. Except he knew Belle was not here out of unconditional love for Jungkook. He promised himself to always help people in need but truly aiding someone to freedom required a hefty journey in the process.

Right at this moment however that sentiment seemed like empty words.

This was not Belle’s world. The idea itself was what caused a pit in his already upset stomach. She didn’t grow up in this life nor did she choose it. It was never supposed to a part of her but now she had to deal with evil test of fate.

Jungkook intertwined his fingers with her loose ones, pressing reassuring pecks on her jawline as his hips snapped against hers. Sneaking a free hand between her legs he rubbed onto her clit hoping to give her some kind of pleasure while his own orgasm rolled to the edge.

A light tickle shot through her but stopped midway when she could feel him reaching his release. The way his face contorted and his thrusts grew desperate but sloppy.

This isn’t real. Fingers fisted at the sheets. This isn’t real. A light groan uttered under his breath. This isn’t real. More tears burning and gathering at her overflowing eyes.

This is real.

The man stilled as his release burst through his veins.

Her body lay compliant as she felt herself being filled up to the brim. Belle sucked onto her bottom lip, closing her eyes almost trying to turn back time somehow.

Jungkook hesitantly leaned in and tried to press a kiss on her cheek.

“Get off me.” She whispered. “Please.”

The male paused feeling a burning behind his eyes when she still tried to be kind despite what he did. Pulling out of her gently, Jungkook got off the bed with a shaky sigh curling his hands into fists when he couldn’t comfort her. How could he? He was the reason she needed comfort in the first place. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jungkook turned away to the bathroom.

Yoongi didn’t realize he had been gripping onto the grill of the window the whole time, until he felt something wet on his palms. When he pulled away it felt like taking a splinter out tiny little bleeding holes interrupting the lines.

His ears pricked up at the trembling sigh the other let out.

When he looked over at him, his cheeks were already stained with tears while a few more flooded at the brim watching Belle slowly shift to the middle of the bed. “I have—” The male whispered before swallowing down painfully. “I have to go to work after this.”

The both of them helplessly watched the girl shake and force herself to sob quietly as she fixed her dress.

“Please…go see if she’s okay. If you can.” The pleading look in Jimin’s eyes mimicked the ache in his exhausted heart. They both knew Belle didn’t deserve this mess. They both witnessed her kindness and now saw her pain.

Yoongi nodded even though it was clear there was nothing any of them could do for her right now. Not at this moment. God if he could just tell him right there and then that he was trying his best to help her out of here.

But when he saw the way Belle curled into herself and tried to take to deep breaths while tears were still streaming down her face.

He knew he had to do a whole fucking more than his best.

Two nights later.

Sun felt warm on her skin, shoes crunched against the pavement as she relished in the murmurs and cheers of the market. How long had it been since the woman had just walked through this corner of wonders? All the high fashion shows, sleek garments and elegant wear were almost nothing compared to the raw simplicity of the red cotton or hand crafted jade jewelry. Belle remembered how she used to create necklaces out of flowers and little stones giving it to Taehyung as a gift because he was the only one who would accept it.

No matter how high she went in this pillar of success, this still brought a warmth in her heart without fail.

Wandering eyes paused on one clothing stall in particular. Padding closer, she saw the smallest pair of yellow shoes shining in the sunny day just at the edge of the display. A smile tugged at her lips when she noticed tiny daisy details embroidered onto it. Carefully the woman picked the pair up almost worried that it might fall apart because they looked so delicate and innocent.

“You have child?” The lady at the stall smiled at her kindly as she waved herself with a fan to waft away the heat.

Belle smiled, relishing the soft fabric under her fingers pads almost acting as a therapeutic substance. “Not yet.” She chuckled softly. “How much is this?”

The lady boxed the shoes up carefully before handing it to her with a bracelet for free. When Belle tried to refuse, she waved it off with that same sweet smile. “It’s for good fortune.”

With slight reluctance the girl thanked her again and moved onto the other stalls. As her eyes wandered, she stopped at the sight of a familiar figure walking out of the market area towards a pay phone. Forehead knitted and curiosity peeking, Belle moved to the more crowded areas so she could see what was happening without being caught. Sneaking around was not the most elegant behavior but at this point, the girl lost all care of what was proper and improper.

Pausing behind the payphone Belle hugged the bag to her chest finally catching Yoongis’ voice speak into the call.

“Jeon family is more traditional than you think, man. They had witnesses to watch the consummation.” Anger was clear in his tone especially in the way it rasped a little more when he tried to lower his volume. “Jungkook handpicked the damn witnesses, what kind of fucked up family is this?”

Belle felt a strange air of relief hearing someone else say those words other than her screaming it over and over again in her mind. Despite the urge to thank him for reassuring her sanity, she stood still to listen when he spoke up again.

“Jungkook is adding extra security to the Gongneung den, all his strongest supplies are there. He knows there’s rats in his empire so we need to get this done before he finds a way to hide all of it again.” His voice was much lower than before.

The woman still caught all the words that were needed however. Heart pounded against her ribcages padding closer to the payphone until the worry of Yoongi seeing her did not resonate anymore.

Yoongi gave a few more words of encouragement to Namjoon before doing his checks again and the sound around him numbed. He saw a familiar reddened and teary gaze fixated on him. For a moment he wanted to believe that she just arrived not hearing a word of their conversation but he knew better than to be so naïve.

Before he could think up a strategy, Belle rushed over to the male in a huff and stood merely a breath away from him with her back pressed slightly against the phone. There was a flash of anger on her face before it faded into something that made Yoongi wish the anger could come back again so he could endure it better.

“You’re a police officer?” Bottom lip trembled and her already exhausted eyes flooded with heavy tears. “And you just watched that happen?” Belle knew why Yoongi couldn’t just burst into the room and stop the event just like she couldn’t stop Jungkook or Boyoung from going on with tradition. But the sensible side of her lost its way that night and now the girl found it far too difficult to find it.

“If I could, I would’ve shot all of them right there and then.” He murmured feeling his stomach drop at the way her voice couldn’t keep any of its usual composure anymore. “I want you to get out of this. I really do. But we need to—we need to work together if this is ever going to stop.” His words dialed down to a whisper now that their faces were merely a breath apart. It took a few minutes for him to realize that his hand was caressing her cheek, sloppily wiping away the tear that flowed down to his thumb.

How long had it been since she wanted to hear someone say those words? Someone that could help her get out of this. A part of her would have agreed in seconds, for the first time falling into another’s arms and feeling like she did not have to do anything. But the tiny yellow shoes in the bag grew heavy on her. “Yoongi—” Belle breathed out staring down at her purchase, hands shaking.

Confused eyes flickered down to follow her gaze and immediately saw the miniscule box inside the bag. “What’s wrong?” He opted to search her expression now. “Belle?” Some side of his mind tried to shout that his hand should be back in his pocket. If anyone saw the two standing this way then they would both be in trouble and none of this would be worth it. But she felt so warm and broken that he was afraid they both would fall apart if he moved even the slightest away.

Belle stammered trying to form the words somehow before sniffling. “I’m pregnant.” She sobbed lightly.

The news lingered heavily in the air between them and Yoongi felt like the wall of his mind close into this one thing. All of the things—all of these goals now stripped down to these two words that he prayed would not be true. He knew it might be possibility. He saw the whole thing happen with his own two eyes but for some reason a more naïve part of him—whatever was left of it—wanted to believe they had time. Yoongi took a deep breath before shaking his head. “It’s okay…we’ll figure it out.” He made her meet his gaze. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

She closed her eyes, nodding while her tears seemed to take their own freedom down her face. “Okay.” Words came out in a whisper.

The older male couldn’t help but mimic her nodding for a moment, slowly moving his hand away and hoping no one in the town recognized them. “Do you need a ride home?”

Quickly the girl shook her head feeling an ache in her belly calling the place ‘home’. It would be their child’s home. She would have to accept that someday. “Can we—” She glanced over at the bustling market. “Can we walk through the market for a little bit?” A sad smile tugged at her lips though her eyes glinted with desperation to capture any sense of false joy that came across the path.

Yoongi swallowed a small, unexpected lump in his throat before glancing at the market. “Yeah…of course.”

Maybe a few more minutes of blinded excitement could redeem that little piece of sanity.

<< PREV CHAP | NEXT CHAP >>

#jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts imagines #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfiction #jungkook mafia au #bts mafia au

150 notes · View notes

izzymcfeegles · 3 years

Text

Yet another post about Sebastian Stan:

I'm seriously tired of making these posts, but over the past few days, there has been a lot of controversy surrounding Sebastian's most recent IG post, and as a result,more things are resurfacing and its become impossible for me to ignore. I'm going to try my best to give a fair assessment, but if I'm being honest, this all appears to be a pretty troublesome pattern of behavior. Before I get into any of that, I think it's important to mention where I stand on cancel culture. As someone who is a longtime fan of wrestling and classic rock, I'm no stranger to seeing some of my favorite artists act in ways that would be considered unacceptable by today's standards. I do think that stan Twitter has a tendency to be a bit harsh when it comes to judging things that people have done in the past. That being said:

Context is important. The reality is that there were many things that were considered to be socially acceptable at one point in time, that we've since learned can be harmful, particularly to those who are marginalized on the basis of race, gender, sexual orientation, gender identity, etc. Something that was considered to be acceptable 2005, we later find can be toxic and harmful. Do I think it's productive to cancel for someone for something they did decades ago that was considered to be acceptable at the time? Not necessarily. However, if this person continues to exhibit the same behaviors to this day, then yes, they should be rightfully taken to task.

In Sebastian's case, he has a documented history of saying and doing things that are ignorant and tone-deaf. In the early 2010's he made an comment about playing Bucky as a "transvestite," a word that is considered to be dated and offensive to Trans people. If I'm being honest, if I saw the interview the date it aired, I probably wouldn't have blinked twice as I was not as educated on Trans issues at that time. I now know that the comment was unacceptable and hope Sebastian does too.

Regarding the Jeff!Seb pedo memes, I'd be lying if I said my edgy 2009 self wouldn't have found them funny at one point, however in 2017, my adult self was not amused. And coming from someone who was playing an abuser at the time, liking those memes was a bad look. Same goes for the Kneegate meme, especially when you consider the amount of hatred black NFL players were receiving from people including the President of the United States for kneeling in protest during the national anthem. It was tasteless, tone-deaf, and he should have known better. The fact that his "apology" over the incident was surrounded by quotes, and as some fans speculated, copied and pasted did not help matters. Mind you, many fans were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and forgive him, and for a while things seemed okay.

Fast forward to 2020. After the man made it a point to shame Miami spring breakers for vacationing during the pandemic, he is seen months later vacationing in Ibiza and later Tulum. The fact that he used his money and Romanian passport to go on vacation while many of us were either stuck at home or worse, putting our lives at risk to put food on the table, understandably did not sit well with many people, especially when taking his previous comments about pandemic vacationers into account. The fact that his traveling partner is a socialite who has a history of doing cultural appropriation, including doing brown face and using the word "savage" in reference to her friend doing a native war cry made it sting even more. I'm not going to go into depth about her because she doesn't deserve the attention and this is about holding Sebastian accountable, but the fact that he is still with her and they appear to be inseparable, it's clear that her history of CA is a non-issue for him. Make what you will of that.

Moving to recent actions. The current project Sebastian is working on is controversial in its own right. As someone who has been a Mötley Crüe fan for almost 20 years, I am familiar with the history of that relationship and how toxic is was and will never defend Tommy and the abuse Pamela suffered at his hand. While my issue is mostly with the producers, it doesn't change the fact Sebastian and Lily are still willfully participating in a series that Pamela herself does not wish to be made.

Sebastian's most recent post seems to be catalyst for the most recent wave of Twitter outrage. I am well aware that Tommy is/was a practicing Buddhist and that things like Buddha statues were part of his home decor. That's not the issue. The issue lies in the face Sebastian chose to make in the photo where he appears to be prying to the statue, along with the caption "find your zen fuckerz." Once again, I am aware of Tommy's speech patterns and get that it was "in character," but to use the combination of that photo and that caption as a non-Buddhist, it's understandable why some Buddhist fans were offended and saw it as disrespectful. And as a non-Buddist, I don't think it's right to tell these people what they should and should not be offended by.

So for those of you who hate paragraphs, TL/DR:

Sebastian has a documented history of ignorant behavior and posts and as of now does not seem to be interested in addressing these things and learning about why the aforementioned behaviors are problematic and why some fans are hurt. This is not okay and we should not be defending him.

I understand that for many of you, he has been a source of joy. Bucky is still my comfort character and I will always be grateful to Seb for portraying the him with the nuance and care he deserves. I'm not asking anyone to stop staning Bucky or to take down your Seb x Reader fanfics. Life is short and you're entitled to the things that make you happy. Just understand that his actions have hurt a lot of people and why fans are upset and lashing out. While I do not condone any threats or doxxing aimed at his direction, the same goes to people who criticize him. I've seen people go to some vile lengths to defend him, from going after Pamela, a victim of abuse, to telling Buddhists how they should feel about their own religion, to anons telling the blogs who call him out to go kill themselves. None of this is ok. At the end of the day, Sebastian is a 38-year-old white man who has a great deal of money and influence and has more social capital than the people calling him out. He will be fine regardless of what happens and does not need people to protect him. The same cannot be said about the people he hurt through his actions.

#thats my ted talk folks. thanks for coming #if you're not happy with any what i posted i suggest you either do some relfecting or keep scrolling but dni. i am not here to debate #just getting my thoughts out #sebastian stan

64 notes · View notes

anerdinallherglory · 3 years

Text

Approaching Sun (30)

Author’s Note: Happy late Valentine’s Day! Fun note: I actually started A.S. on this very same holiday a couple years back. And I did not expect the length or plot this story has taken at allll. Again, I am sorry this is so late. I am hoping to update a LOT more this summer (only one summer class this time!) Unless I get the new job that I am hoping for (fingers crossed). But if I get this job, my free time to write will really open up for me. So it’s a win-win for this story either way.

Also, I want to especially thank these readers: adarkunicorn, softshelldefence, seafoamsands, hatakeliz, harza4925, peachop, cheese-and-biscuits, epitomeofprocrastination, tamnobela, and andreeastroe. These readers really encouraged me to keep writing this story after I was ready trash and take it off all of its publishing sites. You can thank them this story continues.

To all my reviewers, I seriously love you ALL. I am hoping I will get to a point where I can take a break from student emails and respond to each and every one of your reviews in the future. That will be my new year’s resolution this year! I am going to be better. You are all amazing and bring me so much joy and encouragement.

Pairing: SasuSaku

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29

Chapter 30: A Very Dangerous Game

Sasuke hated Kaguya’s sand dimension even more than he disliked the desert that covered the vast majority of the Land of Wind. This dimension was forever hot despite that the dimension’s otherworldly moon hung low in the dark horizon, a massive orb of blinding white that mirrored the Earth’s moon in exact replica. Sasuke had always felt like the illusion was a reminder of the Otsusuki people, and that Kaguya had designed this dimension to display something that reminded her of home. To Sasuke, the dimension moons eerily reminded him of Kaguya’s pupil-less irises, always watching the spaces that existed between nothing.

Glaring at it in paranoid response, Sasuke, deprived of chakra now, walked toward it slowly and determinedly as a challenge. He would show her exactly how her dimensions were now his domains. The Uchiha decided he would walk freely here because he couldn’t do as he pleased his own world. He wanted to scream curses at that eye-like globe, demanding the Otsusuki show up and take him on now in his weakened state.

“Come on!” he screamed. “All of you! What are you waiting for? Let’s get this over with! I will find you all eventually!” He wanted it done. He wanted this over. He wanted to have a life despite his promise to be the worlds’ sacrifice for peace.

As if to taunt him, Sasuke’s shuffling feet snagged over something in the sand, and he glanced down at his feet in surprise. A ninja’s vest, half-burnt away from acid, displayed itself like a green bearing flag left behind by those who had explored a barren planet. Even though Sasuke had been the only human to ever walk here, Sakura’s old vest that Sasuke had used as a teleport connection between dimensions back when he had been trapped here, always served as a call to his more current jumps. In other words, every time Sasuke had come here over the past couple of years, no matter where he opened the portal, he would always land within a few feet of it.

In the past, he had thought of removing it because it was a painful reminder in many ways. But as he returned consistently to the same spot, Sasuke began to theorize that it had something to do with his ability to travel here. At first, Sasuke believed it was because during teleportation, his path crisscrossed into a connection that had already been created and used before—this was the most likely explanation; his chakra simply wasn’t strong enough to rip a new tear in the fabric of space and time. But as he looked at it now, Sasuke wondered if there was more to it than that. Did emotions tie him to this piece of fabric? And because Sasuke’s friends always existed somewhere in the back of his mind, did his chakra seek it out as something familiar to secure itself to before flinging him through the vacuum of nothingness?

Sasuke glared back at the moon in hatred, wondering too, if it could be just a sick part of Kaguya’s illusions, knowing that the vest had in the past and always, always would continue to stop the Uchiha in his tracks. A temptation reminding him of a different life, one that would cause him to ignore the Otsusuki. Kaguya would want that.

He sat down beside it despite how much he wanted to turn and walk away from it as he always had. This time, he let it be his beacon out of the void, drawing some sort of strength from it in his chakra-deprived state. The whole point of being this exhausted was to avoid thinking of her, but the tattered shinobi vest always pricked him with guilt, especially now when he had left her alone in Sunagakure despite his promises of partnership. It was as if the green material had a voice of its own, saying “See how far she would go for you?” And Sasuke, keeping his thoughts private from the ever-watching rock above, would think to himself “I am doing this for her, too. She will understand eventually. She will accept just how far I am willing to go for this peace we both envision. We have the same goal.”

As Sasuke thought these thoughts again, Sasuke accepted that if they couldn’t be united in love, then at the very least, they would be united in the same goal, the same vision of happiness. It comforted him ever so slightly.

He sighed as he fingered the chakra pills at his waist, guilt invading his chest and suffocating him. How could he tell her his true feelings and make her accept what he was willing to accept? How could he satisfy the both of them and do the least damage?

Sasuke exhaled and leaned back in the sand once more to sleep, sweat beading across his brow in the high temperature. He turned on his side and faced the vest in exhaustion, pretending it was her—pretending to be satisfied with this small piece of the woman he loved and would ever allow himself to dream this close to.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The blackness pervaded all of Sakura’s senses as soon as her feet hit the ground opposite the giant hole she had just created in the sand. She blinked hard, hearing the cursing and alarmed proclamations of those she had attacked. The darkness was like a leaden mist before her eyes and Sakura instinctively created the sign of “release” for genjutsu. And whether it was from her lack of chakra, or because this was a ninjutsu, Sakura’s attempts yielded zero results. The blackness remained and blinded her past several inches in front of her face. When she heard Isao’s shout for her, she had no choice but to dart forward blindly, determined to reach him before someone else did.

“Let go of me!” the child screamed, his pursuer unfortunately catching up with him. Sakura navigated through the pillars of sand-dripping earth that now projected themselves in the air around her. With hands outstretched, she cursed herself. The blow had meant to disorient her opponents and it had, but this damn thickening darkness made it difficult to move forward through the landscape of her own destruction. Thankfully, the waterfalling crumble of sand masked her rushed footfalls.

The kunoichi drew upon her chakra once more, but it came as slowly as before, the medicine still lingering in her system with its toxic chakra clotting effects. Sakura moved hurriedly ahead, hoping that she wasn’t the only one choked with darkness.

Isao’s curses came and Sakura finally rounded a huge boulder to find herself facing the back of the thug’s head. He had his massive hands around the child’s throat, weapon tossed aside in favor of a crueler death to the victim that had caused him so much trouble. Despite his struggle for his life, Isao made eye contact with her the moment they were close enough to see each other. His attacker saw recognition register in the boy’s eyes and spun to face her. But it was too late. Sakura’s kunai was slicing the gray flesh of his throat before he even had time to see her, a final blow that had been delayed from earlier, but determined by fate to be his cause of death. The brutish ninja dropped to the ground instantly and Sakura justified the blood that pooled freely at her feet by remembering his cruel actions to the child that struggled to catch his breath before her.

Sakura picked up the abandoned weapon, the weight unfamiliar in her hands. The sound of the man’s death had betrayed her position, and the footsteps of his companions crunched closer to her location. Terrified, Sakura clutched the child, pushing him behind the jagged column of rock behind her.

“Isao,” she pleaded in a whisper. “You have to make a run for it.”

“I won’t leave you,” he declared, determined to fight to his death for her.

“The only thing you can do for me now is to go get help,” she said honestly. It was a half-truth. There were only a few realities before them, and Isao making it back to the village and bringing help was not likely due to how much time it would take. But Sakura was desperate to remove the brave child from the scenario. She cared too much to let him sacrifice himself for her.

“Miss—” he protested, but Sakura propelled him forward in the blinding darkness, an enemy’s footsteps rounding the earth that cloaked him. It was too late to argue, and Sakura turned to face the phantom-man who stepped toward her in visibility, shadows curling around him as he cleared a path through the inky mist.

Sakura faced him squarely, taking a defensive stance and raising the wicked katana with her sharper green eyes, sending a stare to him along the metal’s surface. The shadow-wielding ninja smirked and the rest of his crew appeared beside him.

“Go!” she screamed in final command at the child whose feet took off into the black at her back.

Sakura brandished the sword in confident threat at her attackers, herself serving as the shield between herself and Isao; they wouldn’t move an inch in pursuit of his direction if she had anything to do with it. Sakura had never wielded a sword before, but in the absence of chakra, she would become a master at it in this moment. Sakura was a kunoichi, a medic, a chakra control master, the pupil of a legendary Sanin, a rising legend herself, and today, she would add something else to her list. Scratch that. She would two things tonight: she would eradicate this new movement of anti-peace revolutionaries, and she would do it at disadvantage with the weapon of her enemy.

. . . . . . . .

As Isao ran, he clutched his side in pain, a sharp stab in his waist. The man who Sakura had killed moments before must have broken one of his ribs as he crushed Isao to the ground. At first, the young ninja pitched forward in blackness, half-debating to turn back to help the pink-haired ninja. But Isao knew the truth. He had been foolish to pursue her and her kidnappers alone and he cursed himself for his rash decisions in his fear of losing sight of them; he should have told someone else even if he lost their trail. Any of them, anyone at allwould have been better help to Miss Haruno than he had been.

Isao’s bravery amounted to nothing and it was evident in every piercing word from the medic kunoichi: The only thing you can do for me now is to go get help … Isao let the command fuel him forward despite the pain, until the night faded into morning hours later and the mighty walls of the Sand Village came into view.

He didn’t know how much time had passed and he didn’t wait to scream for help. The Kazekage was not in the village—he had overheard that much. Neither was the teammate that traveled with Miss Haruno. He yelled the only name he could think of, the name his heart still cried out to despite how much he hated him. The roaring sand shrouded his cries, and the prison walls would buffer it completely, but Isao begged to the air, shouting over and over, “FATHER! HELP ME!”

. . . . . . . .

The taste of the chakra pill was bitter, smoky and acrid. The Uchiha almost gagged trying to swallow it down, and he silently confirmed that Sai had been right—although Sasuke hated to agree with anything his entitled replacement said. What had he called them? Mudballs? Despite the accurate term, Sasuke feared his kunoichi companion more than he hated the taste, so he would keep the complaint to himself.

The pill pooled in his stomach and Sasuke took a breath, focusing on the ignition starting in his core. The rush of power was exhilarating as it topped off his chakra supply, overflowing visibly in a blue-purple halo around him. It sizzled along his skin and Sasuke grinned wickedly as a spiraling vortex appeared before him, much larger than any he had been able to create on his own before.

This was it! It was working! He pushed beyond the core dimension easily, his ready supply of chakra speedily fueling the tunnel between the void, but it ate and ate away at his energy and the color disappeared from his skin. Running off his own meager supply now, Sasuke exhaled and grinded his teeth in concentration. Finally, the connection was made and Sasuke threw himself through it.

He landed roughly, skidding to a halt, and he was ironically thankful for once for the Land of Wind’s high volume of sand. Sasuke found himself smirking up at the lightening sky as he recovered, because this was his first victory in a long struggle of jumping dimensions. To the Uchiha, it was proof that he was doing exactly what he was meant to do: beat Kaguya and the Otsusuki clan at their own game in their own territory. Giddy in his success, Sasuke used the last of his dwindling energy to rise to his feet, his thoughts immediately turning to the woman who had helped make this all possible—he hadn’t achieved this on his own; Sakura deserved the credit. And it was the first time that Sasuke could admit that he needed someone else’s help in his goal.

The dark walls of Sunagakure cut the bright morning horizon in half and Sasuke’s gut twisted in a combination of emptiness and guilt at the thought of returning to Sunagakure to face his friend after their… kiss. Sasuke was torn between finding her immediately to tell her that their plan had worked, pretending the kiss never happened in typical Uchiha fashion. But the time he had stolen away from her “to think” brought him to only one conclusion: he needed to apologize—again—and at least explain why. He had made her a promise to be a partner that depended on each other, and here Sakura was continuing to keep that promise, while Sasuke stole moments of happiness and bailed when he had to face the consequences. Suddenly remembering their sunset conversation the last time he had returned after leaving, Sasuke felt a fresh stab to his consciousness as he recalled her statement: “a part of partnership is communication.”

Sasuke slowly made his way toward the village gates. When he passed through the canyon-like entrance, people greeted him with “good mornings” while others stared openly at him. Their gazes were a little different, warmer, and Sasuke wondered if his teammate’s influence in the hospital had something to do with his newreception in Sunagakure now.

Feeling even more ashamed, Sasuke resolved himself for his female companion’s wrath and made a straight line for the hospital.

When he entered the hospital’s double doors, Sasuke came upon a scene that made his stomach drop into his feet. Kankuro, who was haggard from exhaustion, and had apparently returned sometime in the night, was fisting the collar of a hospital staff member.

“What do you mean they’re not here?” he bristled. “If she’s not in her rooms, then she should be here. Where’s Mako? Where’s the kid?”

“I don’t know sir,” came the panicked response from the employee, terrified to be facing the Kazekage’s right-hand man. “I’m sure they’re in the village somewhere.”

Hearing those words had Sasuke acting before thinking and the Uchiha rushed forward to fist the shirt of the same medic. “Are you talking about Sakura?” His eyes darted between the both of them and Kankuro’s grip released from the startled staff’s shirt in the same moment he shoved Sasuke’s own hand away.

“Where the hell have you been?” Kankuro accused icily, and a fire Sasuke didn’t even know he had left in him, surged from his throat in anger.

“What the hell is happening?” he demanded, taking another step toward the puppet wielder.

Kankuro pinched his nose in frustration, then beheld him in shock. “You mean Sakura isn’t with you?”

Sasuke eyes widened in immediate response, an answer refusing to form on his lips. Instead, he shouted, “You don’t know where she is?!”

Kankuro frowned deeper at his sudden animosity. “She hasn’t been seen since yesterday morning,” he explained quickly. “The innkeeper said she never came back to the inn. Mako, another medic, and Sakura’s young patient are missing too.”

Sasuke didn’t wait for any further explanation before he began sprinting up the stairs to the second floor of the hospital, the filter for his behavior now completely removed. Let everyone think what they want! That bastard! When Sasuke got ahold of Mako, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Sasuke’s feet were unusually heavy and his breath labored as he continued climbing to the third floor toward the medicine preparation room they had occupied together only recently.

“Sakura?!” He kicked open the door and furiously searched the vacant room with his eyes. After seeing no one, Sasuke stared at the empty couch where they had sat so close to one another the night before last. As if his memory of her there could recall her, Sasuke gazed openly at it, breathing hard.

Having followed the Uchiha, Kankuro appeared in the door behind him. “We’ve already checked the hospital. She isn’t here. We need to check the rest of the village, quickly!”

She couldn’t be missing. Was she really with that assistant of hers or that child? Were they off somewhere else doing something medical, or were they truly missing? Shit. Shit. Shit.

He turned on Kankuro in his unnerved rage. Sasuke wanted to demand where they had been, he and the Kazekage, but Sasuke remembered that Sakura had told him that they were investigating trouble near the border. He cursed himself again for being selfish and leaving her here alone.

As if reading his thoughts, Kankuro explained, “I was sent back by the Kazekage in the night. He is handling a situation regarding the ninja Sakura said ambushed you both in Tanigakure. The incidents were apparently related.”

“What do you mean?” Sasuke suddenly asked, a deep and cutting sensation coming over Sasuke that he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time: fear.

Kankuro looked down and away from him, debating on how much to reveal. “With some unmentionable methods, we were finally able to find out who their target was,” he finally informed with a sigh. His eyes rose to meet Sasuke’s and the Uchiha saw the same raw fear mirrored in Kankuro’s eyes. “It’s Sakura.”

At the very moment that Sasuke’s knees felt like collapsing beneath his weight, the same staff member that the two ninja had threatened seconds before, came running into the room, panting heavily from having hiked the floors.

“Come quickly,” he urged between breaths, turning immediately to run back down the steps. “Isao has returned.”

Kankuro made eye contact with the Uchiha before they both bolted back down the stairs, taking two and three steps at time. Sasuke cursed his lack of chakra that kept him from just teleporting downstairs.

Sitting in a chair, the child clutched his side. Sasuke noticed that he kept trying to rise, but the staff held him down as they tried to bandage a wound on his arm. Deep purple finger marks circled around the child’s neck like a collar.

“Not me! Her! Go find her, please!” he shouted as he struggled against them.

“Calm down boy,” a woman medic urged. “We have to staunch the flow of blood from your arm.” The child looked at his wound as if he didn’t even know it had been there.

When Isao caught sight of Sasuke and Kankuro, he started to cry. “HELP! Please help!” he shouted, and they quickly moved to hover over the child. Kankuro suddenly kneeled before him, taking the gauze from the medic and wrapped the child’s arm himself as he questioned.

“Speak kid,” Kankuro urged, “What is going on?”

“Miss Haruno,” he choked between tears. “She’s still out there! Please, we have to go!”

Before Kankuro could ask the child why, Sasuke did something appalling, an act that Sakura would be disappointed in him for. His sharingan flashed bright, soaking up the last of his chakra like a sponge, and he caught the panicked child’s stare in his own crimson and purple one.

Just as he had to Isao’s father, Sasuke stepped into the child’s memories. Isao’s recollections were almost too overwhelming for Sasuke to handle at the moment, each image dripping with the fear in which young ones saw the ninja world. There was also bravery in them and familial concern for the pink-haired kunoichi. Sasuke skipped through the memories like speeding up a film, an act that made his head throb in pain. He didn’t care about his own state at the moment though, seeking the green-eyed face of the woman he had come to love.

There. Isao’s most recent memory Sakura was of her telling him “to go get help.” Sasuke didn’t have time to go back further and he let the memories play out from that point, mapping the child’s nighttime desert sprint, hours long, from the empty desert back to the gates of the village.

Not needing to explore the child’s mind further, he released Isao and they both gasped. Sasuke clutched his eye, ignoring the angry glare on Kankuro’s face. He didn’t care about Kankuro’s morals or even the child’s shocked state at that moment. There was only one thing he cared about. He would let the child explain the details to Kankuro; Sasuke didn’t have the time to explain things to Kankuro. Instead, the Uchiha did the unthinkable, playing the very dangerous game of popping another chakra pill into his mouth as he sprinted out the hospital doors.

#approaching sun #approachingsun #sasusaku #Happy Valentine's Day #Sakura Haruno #sasuke and sakura #ssfanfiction #sasusakufanfiction #Sasuke Uchiha #sasukeshinden #sasuke shinden #sakura hiden #naruto fanfiction #narutolightnovels

90 notes · View notes

ladyfawkes · 3 years

Text

Eugene Appreciation Week - Day 1 - Childhood | The Trial and Tribulations of Fitzherbert and Schnitz

The Trial and Tribulations of Fitzherbert and Schnitz

Current word count: 3178

Current Rating: T for upcoming chapters

This is my version of that now-infamous RTA lost episode, "The Trial of Fitzherbert and Schnitz". Most of you are aware how I took issue with Disney having used both adoption AND Eugene's having adopted his lifelong persona as Flynn as a 20-minute throwaway plot. I'm gonna try to beef up that premise.

I suppose this is ALSO my way of refuting some of the (very limited) spoilery stuff I've read that's included in the upcoming traditionally published Flynn Rider novel.

My own plot line will be significantly darker than your average Disney plot, though.

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

Chapter 1: Sister Eunice

Several years into the past....

Arnie was skipping down the corridor just past the chapel, minding his own business, when suddenly a loud CRASH!!! sounded from just behind him. He whipped around to see an enormous new hole in a large ornate stained-glass window behind him that was intact just seconds ago.

Thinking one of the rowdier orphans to be at fault, Arnie ran to have a looksee outside. He was shocked to discover nobody except Sister Eunice opposite him next to the stone wall. Surely she couldn’t have been the one to shatter the window??

The young nun noticed him from outside the chapel though and hissed, “Arnie!! Arnie, don’t tell anybody you saw me here! Please. I’m trying to save Eugene!! I’m trying to save you all!! If anybody asks, especially Father Francis, tell them you saw Eugene throw a rock at the window. I can’t explain why, but it’ll help out. A LOT. Can you do that for me, please, Arnie? Would you do this to save your best friend, Eugene?” She was looking at him with frightened eyes, taking surreptitious furtive glances behind her.

Ten-year-old Arnie had stared back, wide-eyed, and had only barely begun to nod when Sis Eunice turned back, ran around the corner of the chapel toward Arnie’s right, and disappeared. Young Arnie was left standing there, mouth agape, wondering why on earth a nun - a nun!!! - would throw a heavy rock through a church-owned stained glass window. And especially a window that the children were told was hundreds of years old!

Not long after that, to his left, Arnie saw someone else outside out of the corner of his eye. The young boy instinctively hid behind the full partition of the wall where the stained glass window ended. It was Fr Francis, the priest for the local parish, walking at a brisk pace. And Arnie could’ve sworn the scary priest might be tracking Sis Eunice. Arnie and Eugene hadn’t ever been particularly fond of Francis. In fact, they went out of their way to avoid the older dour-faced man.

Although Fr. Francis was currently looking at the hole in the window from a ways off, he couldn’t see where Arnie was from his vantage point. Arnie slinked away to go find Eugene.

Turned out he bumped into Eugene almost immediately since Eugene had been in the chapel, waiting to meet up with Lord and Lady Boskin. Arnie stopped in his tracks at the sight of his friend, all freshly bathed, his hair combed, and so unexpectedly dressed in a new blue velvet skeleton suit, white stockings, silk shirt, and leather shoes. It was the latest modern fashion that all the rich boys were wearing in Vardaros. He knew that because Eugene told him every time they were fortunate enough to go to town with one of the sisters. Arnie would have to pry Eugene away from the shop window where Eugene’s face would sometimes get so close to the display that his nose print would remain on the glass. Arnie didn’t understand why Eugene cared about stuff like that. Fashion and velvet and lace. Orphans weren’t supposed to care. Food was more important anyway.

“I heard a terrible crash and came to investigate!” Eugene said breathlessly.

All thought of the broken window had flown from Arnie’s mind at the sight of his transformed best friend and he demanded, “What’re you wearing alla that for??”

Suddenly self-conscious, Eugene crammed his hands in his new pockets, stared at the floor, scuffed the sole of his new shoe against the mosaic tile and mumbled, “Fr Francis took me aside after breakfast to the rectory and said that Lord and Lady Boskin have chosen to adopt…..me.” He said it with the same amount of awe he felt when he first saw the suit in its parcel.

“....and….and you didn’t think to tell me any sooner? You were just gonna leave without saying goodbye?” accused Arnie, his eyes filling with tears. Eugene could see his pouting lips tremble from several yards away. “But...but I didn’t know either…!” protested Eugene, now fighting tears himself, before he was abruptly cut off.

As Arnie stood there simultaneously hating and envying Eugene, a whole crowd of people had arrived from both sides of the corridor, to all of the ensuing hullabaloo of the shattered window. Unfortunately, it was just in time to see these two boys standing by themselves right near the new gaping hole in the priceless stained glass window.

Fr Francis had reappeared inside followed by the Mthr Superior, Sis Eunice, several dozen children, and a few other nuns. Everyone was chattering and buzzing and arguing about which of the two boys had broken the window -- Arnie or Eugene. Perhaps both? Immediately they both protested their innocence and the bored aggressive older boys used the moment as an excuse to break out into a fight…

Two brawny red-headed boys quickly left the mob only to have one boy each bowl right into Eugene and Arnie. All four boys toppled over to the floor.

All of the other children started shouting, “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” and just before the redheads could land their first actual punches, Fr Francis easily intervened by grabbing both of their pulled-back fists, squeezing them, and ordering the boys to get up off their intended victims and up off the floor. They reluctantly complied. Then Francis ordered Arnie and Eugene off the floor and to follow him to his office.

As Eugene looked down in dismay at the visible dirt on his beautiful new suit, Sis Eunice surreptitiously put a comforting hand on his shoulder and said, in a voice so softly only he could hear, “Don’t worry -- these are play clothes. More than capable of taking a few layers of dirt from rambunctious young boys.” She always had a way to help him feel better….but this time, since he was effectively being frog-marched to the priest’s office over something he didn’t do, the good feeling didn’t last nearly long enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((0))((0))((0))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Hours Earlier…..

Eugene had been called to the rectory by Fr. Francis immediately following breakfast. Without any prior notice whatsoever, he informed Eugene that Lord and Lady Boskin had actually chosen to adopt him!!!

Young Eugene couldn’t believe his luck! He wondered why he’d been chosen. What had the wealthy young couple seen in him? Even though he’d only been formally introduced once or twice, and had spoken only a few sentences to them, they chose him. And he supposed they seemed nice enough.

Eugene and most of the orphans had already seen the younger couple several times. He learned from the nuns over the past couple of years that the pair were evidently unable to have children of their own and as such, had been growing their own family a different way. Twice per year for the past two years, they had chosen a new child from amongst the orphans at this orphanage. Prior to their more formal choosing-times for each child, they would come to the orphanage for several trips and take turns meeting and chatting with the children. Yet this time, they had actually chosen Eugene.

Sis. Eunice had entered the rectory right behind Fr Francis and his announcement; the latter then vacated the building. Sis Eunice had taken Eugene by the hand and led him to the home’s water closet. And already waiting for him was a fresh bath -- mid-week, even! He was accustomed to every Saturday at most. For the first time in his life, Eugene was treated to his very own bath where the water was actually extra warm and didn’t contain the sloughed-off post-bathing scoodge from a zillion other children lurking in the bottom.

Eugene had seen the nuns sniffle and get misty-eyed plenty of times when other children had been adopted. But their crying was always rather delicate and they always tried to smile through it. However, as Sis Eunice helped him to properly wash his fingers, toes, and ears during what Eugene thought of as his luxurious bath, Sis Eunice also kept repeatedly bursting into tears. And apologizing for it. She seemed genuinely….worried.

The nuns weren’t supposed to have favorites but Eugene knew Sis Eunice was easily the most fond of him. She had arrived at the orphanage during the height of a disease outbreak which had very nearly claimed little Eugene’s life. And it would have done so too, if it weren’t for Sis Eunice’s dogged persistence. They had originally bonded over their funny-sounding first names. She’d turned her own name into a joke to try and give him a reason to smile….and it worked. Most if not all of the other nuns were quite hands-off but Sis Eunice believed in healing touch. As Eugene’s stricken body fought the virulent infection, the Sister held him, rocked him, and sang to him. After that, she promised to come back to the room that housed the most ill children and read aloud a story once she finished her rounds. She had sat closest to little Eugene as she read aloud “Flynnigan Rider and the Pirates of Penzance” for the very first time. It was the first time Eugene had become familiar with the novels.

And though Eugene hadn’t really noticed before (nun’s habits often made it difficult to tell who was older than whom) right now, after he learned he would soon be leaving the orphanage forever that day, it was almost as if Eugene were seeing Sis Eunice for the first time. And for the first time, he noticed how young she truly was. She had a spray of freckles across her face and a little space between her front teeth. A halo of strawberry blonde curls framed her face and perpetually worked their way out of her wimpole. It’s possible Sis Eunice was even younger than Lady Boskin.

He couldn’t help but notice as she had him put on a clean slick-feeling shirt -- a brand-new one, just for him!! -- yet that was only the beginning. Apparently with each chosen child, the adoptive couple provided a freshly purchased outfit from the shops in town. Even Sis Eunice couldn’t help but smile this time as she presented Eugene’s new clothes to him. She asked him to tug open the string holding the paper parcel together. He stared at the parcel, eyes darting between the string and the Sister’s face. “Another present?” he whispered in awe. “For me?” Inside lay a brand new velvet suit. “It’s my favorite color!” he squeaked in delight. “Cornflower blue!” And Sis. Eunice nodded with the same huge smile on her face as him. “Shall I?” she asked softly, reaching into the parcel so he could see the whole suit. Eugene was utterly thunderstruck now. He stared wide-eyed at this beautiful boughten suit which was already quite familiar to him.

“But this is the same…..” he trailed off as Sis Eunice finished for him, “It’s the same suit you’ve had your eye on all year in that shop window?” Mouth agape, Eugene nodded slowly, clearly still in shock.

Eugene recalled how Sis Eunice had begun reading the Flynnigan Rider story with a splash, quite literally, and encompassed the first three chapters. The very first words of the book started with Flynnigan Rider on the mains’l full on the mast of a tall ship, shouting, “As long as I possess air in my lungs, I shall never surrender!!” And right before an enemy bullet could pierce him, Rider had sprinted and dove off the end of the mains’l to plunge down into the sea below. Sis Eunice had taken a fresh mildly damp cloth and spun it above her head, so everyone could feel the ‘splash’. That’s all it took for her to hook every single one of her charges. Sis Eunice had read aloud in every voice. Acted out each scene. She had as many props as feasible. And at the end of chapter 3 that first night, she closed the book amidst many “awwws”, protests, and left the children clamoring for more and some even wanting to help star in the show. Six-year-old Eugene had finally found the strength to speak for the first time in days and tugged Sis Eunice’s robes. “Tomorrow? Please?” he whispered breathlessly. The Sister knelt down close by his ear and pushed his hair away from his fevered brow. “I’ll tell you what,” she said softly. “If you think you can stick around for me by this time tomorrow morning, I promise to come back and read for you. Deal?”

And she turned to the rest of the room, “Tonight’s life lesson from Flynnigan is to hold air in those lungs -- by breathing deeply -- so that you can keep fighting.” Eager to prove to Sis Eunice that he could be brave like Flynnigan Rider, he concentrated on breathing as deeply as he could. Though it was by far the most difficult and painful thing he’d ever done in his young life, he followed through with it nonetheless. And Sis Eunice had returned each morning and night, as promised, to divulge more of Flynnigan’s adventures and life lessons. By the time he was well enough about a week later, she’d ask for Eugene to actually promise to wait for her the next night and bit by bit, little Eugene had found the strength to come back from the brink. And it was all because of one (or was it two?) very special people -- Sis Eunice and Flynnigan Rider.

“Shall we dress you smartly then? It’s not proper for a young man of your new status to be prancing around, half-dressed, you know,” Sis Eunice teased, bringing Eugene back to the present. Usually he’d act silly in return but right now….as soon as he had the new trousers on….Eugene was overcome and couldn’t help but throw his arms around the Sister’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, “so much.” It was the nicest clothing -- the nicest anything -- that anyone had ever given him. And Sis Eunice thought he was misinterpreting who’d provided for him this suit but he wasn’t. “I know it wasn’t your money,” as Eugene was well aware that the nuns scarcely had more than the orphans due in large part to their vows of charity and poverty. And yet he replied, still embracing her, “But I just know that you had something to do with it somehow, Sis Eunice.”

She briefly taught him the tricks with helping Eugene learn how to dress himself up in the fancy new suit. It had a lot of buttons. Big shiny brass ones. She was insistent that none of her charges was going to be reliant on servants to dress them, even after they left the orphanage. Once Eugene was fully dressed in his new comfortably-tailored playsuit, Sis Eunice also presented to him new stockings and new mahogany leather shoes.

Sis Eunice looked adoringly...and then somberly at Eugene as the thunderstruck little boy could not stop studying his own reflection in a full-length mirror.

Though most boys hated baths, he actually liked them (especially when they were warm with fresh water) almost as much as he liked playing in the dirt. He wondered if he’d have his own bed at his new home. He wondered if he’d get to have a mattress, bedclothes, and a pillow every night.

“Well, I suppose it’s time,” said Sis Eunice with a watery smile. The pair of them began to head over to the parish chapel just off the orphanage and across the compound from the rectory. Halfway through the walk, Sis Eunice asked him to continue onto the chapel and said that she’d meet up with him again in a very short few moments. And that was apparently where he was supposed to meet up with Lord and Lady Boskin to sign the final papers and officially become their latest son for real. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

After his arrival in the chapel, and within 3 minutes, he heard a very loud crash outside in the corridor to the right of his vantage point near the front of the chapel. He thought maybe he should stay put just in case, but his curiosity got the best of him and he went to investigate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((0))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in the Office of the Clergy….

Arnie had been called into the clergy office with Fr Francis, Mthr Superior, and Sis Eunice. Eugene had been left outside to stew and fret by himself.

“So you witnessed Eugene Fitzherbert throw a rock at the stained glass?” said Fr Francis imperiously. Arnie’s wide frightened eyes kept darting back and forth between Fr Francis’s unpleasant features and Sis Eunice’s equally terrified eyes. She nodded imperceptibly to encourage Arnie to say yes. Arnie didn’t want to lie but he didn’t want to be the one who got in trouble either. Not to mention….it utterly broke his heart that Eugene was getting adopted and that he wasn’t even gonna say goodbye to Arnie. Thus Arnie looked to the floor and nodded downward at it half-heartedly.

Eugene was brought into the office and not even given a chance to defend nor explain himself.

“Naughty misbehaving boys who destroy priceless works of church art don’t deserve to get adopted,” Fr Francis began imperiously. “Remove that clothing at once. It’s no longer yours and you are no longer fit to wear it.” Poor Eugene recoiled in shock and horror and Sis Eunice stepped in to try and intervene. She shared scared looks with Arnie, even more frightened than before. “There’s no need for that, he hasn’t physically harmed anybody,” Sis Eunice reasoned, “there’s no reason to treat him like he’s a criminal. He just had an accident, that's all.”

Eugene kept backing further and further away, “Not adopted??” was all he could manage to say. “That’s precisely it,” Fr Francis replied coldly. “I’ll tell Lord and Lady Boskin not to follow through with the paperwork because misbehaving children are evil children, and they shan’t have evil brought into their perfect home. Now give back that clothing or I shall turn you in for theft of property.” Sis Eunice’s hands flew to her mouth in open dismay. Arnie had correctly deduced that this was definitely not a development she had anticipated. Now the Mthr Superior and other church lackeys outside the door had begun to put their hands on Eugene in effort to take back his new boughten clothes.

Clearly, not knowing what else to do, Sis Eunice pressed her advantage, knelt down by Eugene's ear, and said, “You must run, Eugene!! Stay as far away from here as you can! Make certain they can’t ever catch you. I’ll take care of the rest.” His eyes bugged out and still he hesitated before Sis Eunice hissed, “GO! NOW!”

Eugene spun on the heel of his new shoe, managed to just barely pull away from the sea of grabbing hands, and sprinted out into the great beyond. P.S. Yes, I have every intention of continuing this. And hopefully even seeing it to completion, like a real "episode", even though the timelapse will be more like a full hour as opposed to 22 minutes? In fact, I've already written a bit more beyond it. I just have to write other things for the time being.....

@gleamful-lanterns @kingreywrites @autumn-ravenclaw

#EAW #Eugene Appreciation Week #Day 1 Childhood #fanfiction #ao3 fanfiction #my fanfiction #eugene fitzherbert #Flynn Rider #Arnwaldo Schnitz #lance strongbow

16 notes · View notes

lovelivingmydreams · 3 years

Text

The blame game

@sanderssides-secretsanta for @averykedavra

Rating: PG

Pairings: whatever you want. Any actions can be read as platonic or romantic I’m not telling you how to enjoy this fic. Aka I couldn't pic.

Hurt comfort

Triggers: hospital, injury, pain, burns, coma, mention of abduction

Summary: A couple of years ago people disappeared. And then months later they started showing up again. Some escaping, some being freed. No one knew what exactly went on in those months. All evidence was destroyed before answers could be found and the victims were unwilling to testify. Until one group, the first to break free, showed up when a building collapsed and used incredible abilities to save the day. They spoke out about what had happened, and swore themselves to serve and protect the public interest.

Time went on and now the victims that all had gained some type of power are accepted into society. The team is still doing what they can to save others and protect each other. This story takes place during what should've been a routine mission.

“We have to finish up. Under current circumstances we have 3.4 minutes until the building collapses.”

“I did a sweep, I didn’t hear anyone calling out and no heartbeats. Pat can you feel anyone?”

“No kiddo, it seems all clear on my end too.”

“Marvelous. Jan how is our cover holding up?”

“I’m fine Roman. I can hold it for a few more minutes.”

“Remus do you have yourself together?”

“All bits and pieces accounted for Bro! Though Jan can always check later to make sure.”

“And that’s enough. I’m taking you first.”

“Virgin! So forward!”

“If you upset him Remus, I swear to god!”

“Relax RoRo…”

…

“I’m back. Come on popstar. They are getting closer, we have to hurry.”

“Maybe take Lo first… If I’m too far I can’t…”

“It’s just for a minute Padre.”

The connection fell away. Indicating Virgil had indeed brought Patton out of range.

“Two more minutes,” Logan stated as he joined Janus at the street side of the shop they were hiding in.

“I am sooo glad the looters came to cause extra chaos. I was just thinking that evacuating the citizens from earthquake shaken buildings wasn’t enough of a challenge,” Janus grumbled annoyed.

“We shall deal with them once we are all outside,” Roman assured him as he too joined them.

“Next passenger please,” Virgil announced as he came to a halt right behind Roman, making him jump.

“Stop doing that!” he demanded.

“Only if you stop being funny when I do,” he teased while picking up Logan.

“This never seizes to be mildly embarrassing,” Logan huffed displeased. Being carried out bridal style by their youngest member was a little awkward for everyone. Well except for Remus. But he wasn’t bothered by anything. “Do you prefer a piggy back ride?” Virgil teased.

The circumstances that led to the formation of their team had been far from pleasant. Virgil especially still had nightmares and flashbacks. But they all enjoyed the power sets they were given. Though if they could choose they’d do without the trauma. The only thing they wouldn’t give up for that was each other.

“And you all secretly like being held,” Virgil insisted before taking off. Roman and Janus exchanged a glance wondering if Virgil was just teasing or if he actually could tell that they appreciated the rare opportunity to have Virgil actually welcome physical closeness.

They all were pretty close after everything. And any awkwardness about being emotionally vulnerable around one another had gone out the window long ago. Still Virgil felt the need to act tough to make them not worry about him. It didn't work, but he still tried.

“I better get going. I’m not fond of Logan’s ticking clock,” Roman stated.

“Yeah, I’ll give us a little more cover. V only needs 10 seconds to get me out anyway.” Jan didn’t want to risk the rioters seeing them now. There was no telling what they’d do.

Roman nodded and started to sprint to the exit.

Janus turned away, but then his heart stopped when he heard a crashing sound and a pained outcry.

“Roman!” Virgil gasped behind him.

“I’m fine, get J. I’ll-” Roman cut himself off with a loud curse.

“You hurt your ankle,” Virgil concluded. Janus looked back and watched as the young hero gathered Roman in his arms. “J I’ll be back for you soon okay?” He didn’t wait for an answer.

Janus considered just dropping the illusion of an empty trashed store with faulty wiring and make his way to the back to meet Virgil halfway. But the rioters were hot on their heels now. He couldn’t risk anyone following them. Not that anyone would be able to once Virgil had him. But if anyone was inside when the building gave out…

Suddenly something flew through a window. A flaming bottle? Janus could see it heading to an isle with cleaning products. He realized what was about to happen at the same time that he saw Virgil return and hesitate upon detecting something moving in his peripheral.

Janus acted without thinking. He dropped the illusion and tackled Virgil to the ground.

Janus moved to cover Virgil’s body with his own. There was an infinite fraction of a second of blinding pain. He never even registered the sound of the explosion. Just pain and then darkness.

He heard the murmuring and the zooming and beeping of machines. He felt disoriented. What happened…?

“Come on J. Please wake up,” Patton? He sounded like he’d been crying.

“Patton I… I don’t think…” Logan’s voice. Not quite as steady and certain as he normally sounded.

“Don’t finish that sentence! He has to wake up! I don’t know what we’re supposed to do if he… If he…” Patton started sobbing, the sounds muffled by something. That wasn’t right. Janus tried to open his eyes but it was hard.

“I can’t… We are supposed to stick together… and he… And then Virgil…”

Virgil? Suddenly Janus remembered. No. Virgil had to be fine. He made sure of that right?

Janus forced his eyes open and found Patton clinging to Logan’s frame on his right. Remus sitting uncharacteristically quiet and still behind them.

He blinked a few times. Something was off. His sight… And why did his face feel weird… Everything felt weird.

“Hi,” was all he was able to force out of his throat.

Remus perked up, Patton and Logan nearly jumped at the unexpected sound. All of them had bloodshot eyes. He’d expected as much from Patton. He was in a hospital and something was going on with Virgil. But it took a lot for Logan and Remus to cry.

“Janus,” Logan breathed as they all gathered at his bedside. Logan grabbed his hand to squeeze it. Janus squeezed back and felt Logan relax instantly.

“Wha…” Janus tried, hoping he managed to bring across the pleading tone he intended despite the pain in his throat keeping him from saying much.

“You’ve been unconscious for the past month. There were several operations and you have only been breathing on your own for the past 21 hours and 28 minutes.” That explained the pain in his throat.

“Pat? Eyes…” he asked. He was burned. He was no idiot. He just wanted to know how bad and Patton could show him.

“I don’t know Jan…” Patton bit his lip looking at Logan for help. Their academic friend nodded in agreement.

“There is… Someone like us on staff. We were to alert her once you’d awoken so she could heal you up some more. It is probably best not to distress you until she has,” Logan urged.

So it was really bad. “Call…” he managed. Maybe then he would be able to talk better afterwards.

“Very well…” Logan pressed a button.

“Re… V…” Remus didn’t do sugarcoating. He would tell him no matter how bad…

“Roman is watching the Emo. We’ll all go to see them together soon,” Remus murmured. Now Janus was getting really worried. What was going on? Remus was never this… restrained.

“Remus. We have all repetitively told you, you did not delay Virgil in any way,” Logan insisted sternly.

“Yeah Rem. None of us think you did anything wrong that day. And I’m sure Jan and V would agree.”

Wait, why hadn't. Virgil told him to stop moping yet? Why wasn’t he here? Why did he need someone to watch over him?

“I should have sat still. I knew we had little time left. Instead I made Virgil slow his step to make sure he didn't drop me.”

“We all delayed him in our own way Remus. It was a collection of circumstances. If anything, I should have taken the violent nature of the rioters into account and adjusted my timeframe accordingly.

We all relied too much on my prediction and…”

“Don’t you start that again. I could have tried to get a feel of the crowd and told you. Then you might've known there was a risk too consider!” Patton protested.

“Patton you couldn’t have possibly…”

“It’s my job Lo! I should look after all of you guys. I’m the one who keeps us happy and together and now everyone is sad and… and…” Patton was shaking with sobs again. Only now did Janus remember that when Patton was tired (physically or emotionally) his empathic ability played up without him wanting to. His telepathic link on the other became much harder to establish under such circumstances. Which meant that while Patton couldn’t find comfort in linking with the others, his usual coping tool for anything bad going on, he felt his own feelings on top of everyone else’s unfiltered.

Logan seemed to realize this too. “Patton, I’m sorry. I should have realized. You need not burden yourself with our guilt as well as your own. Please, please forgive me this oversight?” he asked with a comforting hand on Patton’s shoulder, the other still holding Janus’.

Patton gave a small tired smile. “It’s not your fault Lo… You guys don’t have to repress your own feelings just for me. We are all a bit stressed out and…”

“Pardon me?” Everyone immediately looked to the door. Well everyone except Janus who couldn’t turn his head very well. But he got there.

His left eye still was not right but he could discern a figure at the door. Hopefully this person was the one who could get him out of this bed so he could finally get answers.

“Ah. Doctor Laffeye. Thank you for coming. As you can see Janus has woken up. Could you…?”

The figure came closer and seemed to look down at Janus.

“Hello. Elena Lafeye, she/her… Your eye isn’t doing so well it seems.” She sounded kind and disappointed by her observation. That wasn't good.

“No See…” he croaked.

“And your troath probably feels pretty painful too. I’m going to do my best to help the healing process along. But I find that I get the best result in several sessions rather than one go. You just tell me when it starts to feel painful. That might indicate that I am rushing some stitches or something like that. Sometimes the body just protests being forced to heal. It is important that you are honest, or it’ll be worse in the end okay?”

Janus felt frustrated, what was the point of a healing ability if it couldn't get him back to normal right away? But, if he could get well enough to get out of the room to wherever Roman and Virgil were... Then that was enough right?

“Kay,” he promised.

“Good. I have told this to your friends, but I’ll repeat it to you. Thank you. For speaking out about it all. You guys make life much easier for the rest of us. Thank you.”

Janus thought she sounded sincere, but he could not see her face clearly enough to be sure.

“No prob…” No, that was as far as he got.

“Top to bottom then,” she said. It was not a question.

Janus expected Remus to laugh or make a joke, but he didn’t and that was terrifying. Did he really feel that responsible? Or did he look so terible that even Remus couldn't make light of the situation?

“Here we go.”

It started with a light tingling sensation in his left eye. It became warm and then it was kind of like a static… “Stop,” he croaked as he forcibly shut his eye when the first sting occurred.

When he opened his eye though he could see improvement. It wasn’t as sharp as he was used to. But he no longer felt like he was half blind.

“Wow, it looks a lot better!” Patton exclaimed, probably trying to assure Janus. Sadly Janus could only think about how Patton didn't say he was back to normal.

“I am going to focus on your face now,” the doctor warned and the tingling started again.

“Stop,” Janus rasped again when it started to feel like a web of glowing hot wires was put against his skin.

“Okay. I’ll move on to your throat. This shouldn’t hurt as much considering most of the trauma from the accident has healed on it’s own. Any damage left now is from the breathing and feeding tube. This is just to make you more comfortable with speaking.”

This time the doctor stopped before Janus got even a little uncomfortable.

“How’s that?” she asked.

“Well…” That didn’t hurt. “Better. Thank you.”

“Good. Now… Let’s see if we can get you well enough to leave the bed alright? I’m sure you’d like to check in on your other friends as well.”

Yes! Please, let me see them. “Okay.”

The doctor took in a deep breath and the warm sensation kept traveling up and down the left side of his body. From his fingertips to his shoulder, through his torso, down his leg to his toes and back.

Up and down, over and over again.

“S… Stop please,” he gasped when the warmth started to burn.

“Okay… how does that feel? Can you try and sit up?”

Janus blinked. Right, he’d stayed put so far. To be fair even moving his head had been exhausting a few minutes ago.

“Um… Yeah,” he murmured as he carefully moved his arms. His left stung a bit, but it was manageable. He’d deal with it if it meant they’d go to see Virgil.

“Carefull Jan!” Patton pleads as he frantically flayed his hands around wanting to push him down but scared to touch.

“It’s alright sir. I think he’s got it,” the doctor stated soothingly. Once Janus sat up the doctor nodded satisfied and left with the promise of checking on them again in an hour.

“Patton. Will you show me now?” Janus asked as soon as they were left alone.

“I…”

“Please. I need to know,” he pleaded. He could feel something wasn’t right with his body. He was too much of a coward to simply look down though. He told himself he wanted to see the full picture. That he wanted to see what the public would see when he inevitably would be swarmed by reporters. But honestly, he hoped that if he looked through Patton's eyes he wouldn't hate what he’d see as much.

Patton once again turned to the others. Remus squirmed, avoiding his eyes. Logan sighed and squeezed Patton’s shoulder, encouraging him to turn to him.

"He will only get more stressed by not knowing. We can hardly keep him away from reflective surfaces. Best he sees it when he has a chance to mentally prepare." With that Logan's steady gaze directed itself towards Janus.

"You were burned on the entire left side of your body. There were many skin transplants performed to help save your life. Are you really ready to see yourself?"

Janus wasn't sure if he was. But he knew he had to see.

He gave them a firm nod.

Patton sighed resigned to the decision "Ok... 3, 2... 1."

Janus struggled not to scream out in horror. The man he saw trough Patton's eyes wasn't him. The left side of his body was an awful patchwork. It couldn't be. And this was after accelerated healing?

"Is... is this why Roman and Virgil aren't here?" he asked with a shaking voice. He wasn't sure how he'd feel if the answer was yes.

"No! No of course not!" Paton exclaimed. It should have been a relief. But if they weren't avoiding him...

"Then... why? What happened?"

Silence filled the room.

"Patton was linked with the rest of us," Remus started, his voice unnervingly... normal.

"When the explosion went of... you know how we sometimes link up subconsciously. We all blanked for a second due to the pain." So he'd sent out an SOS...

And everyone had felt what did this to him...

“But Roman… He shot in action. By the time we realized you two were in danger he was already back at the building. He told us he found you two buried under some rubble. You were on top of Virgil who wasn’t burned at all, but he was unconscious. Roman managed to wake him up though and… Well we finally found out what happens when ‘survival’,” their nickname for Virgil’s power set, “Is pushed to the limit. Virgil told Roman to pick you up and next thing Roman knew you were all back with us and Virgil collapsed from overexertion.”

Patton and Logan nodded. “The doctors say he pushed his muscles so hard that they broke a few bones. There were hairline fractures all over. And… He still hasn’t woken up,” Patton explained sadly.

“Roman aggravated his injury going after you two, but he couldn't be made to care about his own recovery. He has refused to leave Virgil's side unless he knew one of us took his place. We’ve been taking turns to let him freshen up and visit you. Well Patton and Remus have. Apparently my care was unsatisfactory. Who knows what is going on in his head,” Logan added. Clearly still a little hurt by whatever had led to that decision, and frustrated by what must have been countless fruitless attempts to get Roman to listen to the doctors.

Janus could easily imagine why their theaterloving friend might be acting that way. Roman had declared himself to be their leader. Despite not being the oldest or most experienced in anything. It had been his idea to save people thought. And they all understood that he felt responsible for putting them on this path.

His guilt must run deep.

“I have to go see them,” Janus stated. This time everyone nodded without even a second’s hesitation.

“You won’t be able to walk on your own just yet. Even without your injuries, your muscles haven’t been used in a month. They will have to rebuild strength through physical therapy,” Logan informed him while Patton pulled up a wheelchair.

“I have used the past month to learn how to help you get settled without hurting you. I assumed you would prefer that over a nurse,” he added.

Janus smirked. “Oh no, I was totally hoping some random person would be yanking my body around.”

The other chuckled. “We missed you Jan,” Patton smiled warmly.

And Janus could feel how sincere he was. He could only really smile with his right side, so even when he tried to do it sincerely it probably looked like a smirk. So he gave his friends more of the humor they’d been missing. “I’d say I missed you to. But… I didn’t.”

He could feel the chuckle vibrate trough Logan’s chest as he carefully maneuvered him into the wheelchair.

Patton put himself in charge of steering him while Remus and Logan walked on either side of him, like they were escorting someone powerful or famous. And technically, Janus was both. They all were. They just tended to forget that around one another.

But it became rather apparent when they left the room and there were two armed police officers stationed in front of the door.

“We are going to see Instinct now. You may try to stop us, but it’ll only waste 13minutes and 29 seconds of all of our time before we convince you to let us trough. At the most.” Logan stated. He said it so firmly that anyone who didn’t know him would assume he knew this as a fact thanks to his predictive reasoning. But Janus, and the others surely too, could tell that he was lying. Meaning the guards might be able to stand their ground if they chose to do so.

But as no one bet against Logan’s predictions the guards stepped aside and let them trough.

There were guards in front of the room next to them too. These two however stepped aside right away.

Remus opened the door and they could hear Roman’s voice.

“I’ll let you pick the movies for a month. I won’t ever complain about your loud music again. I’ll admit I’m a big idiot! You can even have that in writing. Just please… Please V… I can’t… We can’t lose you.”

Janus’ heart ached. Their friends had gone through hell the past month.

Patton rolled Janus inside and he felt tears jump to his eyes. Well at least his tear ducts worked.

Roman was holding Virgil’s limp hand in his own. His head resting in the crook of his arm on the bed as he gazed up at their friend’s sleeping face. He was sitting in what looked like a very uncomfortable chair and had yet to realize he had company. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair was a mess.

Janus and Roman were easily the vainest in the group. They knew this and accepted this about themselves. They often bonded over fashion and the sorts.

Logan came closest, though he did not care for fashion or anything like that. He just carefully maintained a professional appearance at all times.

The others didn’t seem to live in the same world when it came to caring for ones appearance. Except for Remus he was from a different universe.

And yet here both theatric, normally impeccably groomed men were. Absolute messes.

“You look terrible,” Janus drawled casually. Because there is no right way to draw attention to your presence in these circumstances.

Roman looked up, his eyes wide, a small ghost of a smile, a tiny spark in his eyes as he took him in.

Well at least his new look didn’t gross him out. Then again, he had apparently seen him look worse.

“I mean, so do I. But I was in a coma for a month. What is your excuse?”

Now the smile did break free, though the spark turned into silent tears. Janus would take it.

He could see Roman was struggling with the desire to come over and check on him and the need to stay close to Virgil.

Luckily Patton rode Janus over to be right in front of Roman so he wouldn’t have to choose.

He turned in his seat, switching Virgil’s hand from his right to his left so he could place his now freed hand gently on the scarred side of Janus’ face. Janus gasped in awe. Leave it to Roman to know, to understand, that Janus needed someone to treat his ruined half as if nothing had changed.

Roman angled Janus’ head and his own so that their foreheads touched.

“Welcome back,” he whispered.

“Good to be back,” Janus responded, feeling an immense weight fall of his chest.

Roman sat back up again, now holding Janus’ hand instead of his face.

“I hope, though I do not deserve such a gift, that you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

And there it was. “For forgetting how to use a brush?” Janus scoffed.

Roman’s eyes flashed in annoyance. “This is no laughing matter! If I hadn’t tripped you and Virgil would have both been out of the building when that bomb went off! If anyone had ended up in the hospital it would have been me and rightfully so! I have no right to be left with nothing but a fractured ankle! It even healed over by now. Virgil however won’t be fully better for months! Even if he wakes up! And you… You could have died! We were told to prepare for… And the doctors don’t know why Virgil hasn’t woken up yet… and… and… I should’ve protected you both I…” Roman was full on sobbing now.

“Kiddo, no…” Patton whispered weakly.

“Don’t be stupid Romano. Anyone else would’ve waited for the V train and ended up caught in the blast as well or something,” Remus argued.

“Indeed. And there is always a chance that Virgil would have stopped to pick you up anyway and took a moment to tease you before taking you away. You know he likes carrying ‘the prince’ like a princess. You are his favorite to ‘whisk away’. There are an infinite amount of things that still could have gone wrong,” Logan reasoned earnestly.

Roman looked around at them in surprise. “But… I…” Then he stopped himself and allowed himself a chuckle.

“I guess… You all have some good points,” he sighed before letting go of Janus’ hand and turning back towards the bed. Switching his hands once more before dragging his left trough his hair and rubbing his eyes. “Now if only…”

“Tell me someone took a picture of the prince as a pauper.”

When they heard that everyone shot up in attention, except for Janus who didn’t have the strength to do more much more than hold his position right now. But he too turned his head to the bed where Virgil was blinking his eyes as he tried to take everyone in.

“You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he chuckled. Then his eyes landed on Janus and widened.

Janus prepared himself. Last time Virgil saw him he didn’t even have so much as a freckle to tarnish his complexion. Now…

“J? Are you… Does it hurt?” he asked tentatively.

Well… No point in lying. “I’ve felt better,” but he didn’t have to be too honest either.

“Well… For what it’s worth, I think you look wicked. And anyone who has a problem is going to have to deal with me… umph!”

Roman had had enough of sitting around and was embracing Virgil.

“You are awake!” He exclaimed in relieve.

“Okay… Um… How long…?”

“A month,” Logan supplied as he came to stand at Virgil’s other side and ran his hand affectionately trough his hair. “You have a few broken bones that have yet to fully heal and a lot of physical therapy ahead, but now that you are awake, rest assured that you will make a full recovery.”

Virgil nodded in understanding.

“Princey? Can you let go of me now?” he asked.

“I don’t think any of us are ready for that kiddo,” Patton stated trough his happy tears as he sat down on Logan’s side of the bed and placed a hand on Virgil’s knee.

“Yeah! I finally have my creep and horror buddy back!” Remus exclaimed with glee, finally back to normal now that everyone was awake and together it seemed.

“Virgil, I… I thought….” Roman gasped as sobs threatened to overtake him yet again.

“Relax Princey. You don’t get rid of me that easily…” Virgil chuckled. Then he looked at Janus with some sadness in his eyes.

“Thanks. For saving me. I wish it hadn’t been needed though.”

Janus met Virgil’s eyes earnestly. “Of course Virgil. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“And you have nothing to be sorry over okay kiddo? You did nothing wrong!” Patton insisted.

“Indeed...” Logan started probably about to do the same rational breakdown of Virgil’s actions and possible consequences of other decisions on his part as he’d done for everyone else but himself.

“I know,” Virgil chuckled with a roll of his eyes. Surprising everyone. If there was one member of their group they could assume would find a way to blame himself for everything wrong with the world, it was Virgil.

“What? You all have been helping me with my negative thinking remember? Hindsight 20/20 in this case. There is no use in dwelling on what happened if in the moment you acted with the right intentions and to the best of your ability. No point in playing the blame game,” he droned off the last part with a fond smile to Logan, who stared at him for a moment and then let out a single laugh. Followed by another , and another.

Patton joined in with giggles. Remus started cackling and Roman finally had to let Virgil go in order to laugh fully with tears in his eyes.

Janus had to settle for a warm smile on half his face and a slight shaking of his shoulders.

“Um… What did I say?” Virgil frowned.

“Nothing. It’s just that we have all been playing the blame game ourselves without even realizing,” Janus informed Virgil. “And now you, out of everyone, have put things in perspective again.

We are all here. And everything else, we can deal with.”

Virgil smiled at that. “Yeah… Yeah we can.”

Many challenges were still ahead. But that didn’t matter. They were all together again and all was right in the world.

Virgil=Instinct

Survival: he can choose to heighten his senses and increase his physical strength and speed to super human levels. His tolerance for pain is also heightened. Usually needs a nap and food after missions. Occasionally he'll discover he has injuries once he deactivates his power.

Roman= Prince

Equip: Basically full metal alchemist. If he can imagine the object clearly he can make it using molecules in the world around him. But for, by example, a working radio he'd have to know how all the parts fit together and work. So he has only a few of these complex objects in his arsenal.

Remus=Ragdoll

Asemble: Mr potato head from toy story. He can disassemble himself like a doll and put himself together again. If he pulls of a hand he can still use said hand as if it were attached. He lost his right little toe once and since then they all make sure Remus is in one piece before leaving.

Patton=Father

Connect: Can establish a telepathic bond with others and feel their emotions. The better he knows you the stronger both powers work. The team often uses this for group discussions, Patton shares his empathic powers with the rest through telepathy and that usually calms everyone right down. Hard to be mad when you feel how loved you are by the one your fighting with. Everyone agrees that if Patton wasn’t the cinnamon bun he is he'd make for a master manipulator.

As mentioned in the fic, his empathic abilities flare up when he is tired while his telepathy becomes harder to handle. He can connect briefly to one person at a time under those conditions.

Logan=MasterMind

Predictive reasoning: he can basically tell the future. Short term predictions are more accurate than long term. You can ask him the most likely outcome if you do action a as opposed to action b by example. He is still learning to take emotions into account but Patton helps him with that.

Janus=Fantasm

Mirage: he can create illusions. They work better when sight is limited by darkness fog or limited thinking of the spectator due to high emotions or the like. It does require more focus the more complex the vision is. He also can't move if he wants to keep it up. He usually takes care of distractions or hiding them.

#sanders sides #ts sides #sanderssidessecretsanta #fic #hurt comfort #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders

37 notes · View notes

pulaasul · 3 years

Text

Rising Dawn of Revelations

Trevor Wilson, known to Sunset Curve as Bobby, was someone racked with guilt for something out of his control. He decided to reveal what he was forced to do the first chance he got.

Or the "Bobby reveals the origins of his songs" fic no one asked.

[FFN] [Ao3]

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

It's been weeks since Julie's performance at the Orpheum.

Seeing the faces of his dead bandmates hurt. It was like holding a rose bouquet without protection from its thorns, and that was during every Julie and the Phantoms gig he went to.

Trevor Wilson never missed one, despite his daughter's protests.

Trevor was currently in his mansion when he received a phone call.

"Please tell me you have some good news."

Trevor listened attentively to his phone.

"Turn on my TV? What for?" Trevor asked but acquiesced nonetheless.

"Record Label, Callaghan Music Entertainment's owner and CEO has just been arrested for multiple counts of copyright infringement and human trafficking," The TV blared. "Here's Jeremy Kent for the report."

"Callaghan's been sacked? Copyright infringement?" Trevor parroted the TV. "What about my contract?"

"Johnny Callaghan himself discovered hit sensation, Trevor Wilson, whom kids of this generation still adore," The TV continued the report. "It's even more shocking that the victims of Callaghan's off the records operations targeted children from third world countries who wanted to make it big in the United States."

"That's airtight, huh." Trevor sighed.

"Thank you, William." The newscaster thanked.

"That's great news!" Trevor exclaimed, elated at the news he received. "Alright, as soon as I clear my name from Callaghan's scandal, got it."

--------

Trevor was able to clear his name and distance himself from the scandal that his previous record label's executives got themselves in.

Apparently, most of the people involved were the higher-ups of the record label while the sound mixers, record producers, even the in-house vocal coaches were left to flounder in the air.

But before he can help them, he needs to do what he should have done years ago.

"Carrie, could you call the Molinas and Flynn over?" Trevor requested her daughter.

"Why?"

"Daddy has a small presentation to make." Trevor admitted.

"Why do they have to be here?"

"Just trust me, baby."

---------

"What did Carrie want?" Alex questioned as Julie put down her phone.

"She said Trevor wanted Ray, Carlos, Tia, and I at the mansion." Julie offered, unsure how to feel. "She said she still has to call Flynn too."

"Which is a shocker!" Flynn just let herself inside the garage. "What do you think Trevor wants?"

"Maybe he finally told his daughter about him being a thief." Luke forcefully offered.

"Luke, we talked about this." Julie sighed.

"I know, Julie, but I still can't get what he did to us out of my head!"

"I won't lie and say, I know how you feel, but isn't it past the time of holding grudges?" Julie asked.

Flynn simply raised an eyebrow at her best friend.

"Right," Julie realized her best friend can't see the boys. "The boys seem to think that Trevor finally told Carrie about what he did to their songs."

"Julie's right, dude." Reggie offered. "We landed ourselves in trouble because we weren't contented with what we had done to Bobby previously."

"That…" Luke trailed off.

"I somewhat agree," Alex nodded. "I think Caleb would've thought of another way to catch us." He offered. "Willie said, he was threatened by us." He sighed.

"Still no signs of him?" Luke asked.

Alex simply shook his head.

"Mija, could you come over here for a second."

"Coming dad!" Julie replied.

"I'll come with."

"I'll go see, what's up." Reggie volunteered.

"Boundaries." Julie admonished as she closed the doors.

After a few moments of waiting, Reggie reappeared in the garage, with Luke and Alex anticipating the information Reggie has.

"Bobby's record label just got sacked," Reggie bluntly revealed. "That's what Carlos told Julie as soon as she entered the house."

"What's sacked?" Luke frowned.

"I don't know, but from everyone's faces, I'm guessing it's pretty bad."

"So something bad happened to the record label Bobby signed with." Alex clarified.

"Probably," Reggie nodded. "Ray was concerned for Bobby."

"Julie did say that Bobby has been telling her and his daughter stories before, Ray and the others must've also known them," Alex suggested.

"Serves him right." Luke scoffed.

"Dude, the man has a daughter to raise." Reggie called out.

"Reggie, he's rich. He probably made a lot of money from the songs he stole," Luke defended his stance. "It's not like this would affect him or his family."

"We're going to the Wilson's," Julie immediately informed her bandmates.

"Can't you just skip that?" Luke suggested. "You can just rehearse with us instead."

"No can do, the whole family's going there," Julie shook her head. "Tia's on her way here, and as soon as she arrives, we're going there together."

"Why's Ray worried about Bobby?" Reggie couldn't help but ask.

"Mom and Dad knew Trevor from way back, I'm guessing this was after you guys died," Julie answered. "I don't really know how they met, just that they've been close ever since I can remember."

"That's how you and Carrie became friends in the first place." Alex put the pieces together.

"Julie, Tia Victoria's here." Ray yelled from the house.

"Coming Papi!" Julie immediately responded.

---------

The boys arrived at the Wilson mansion, hearing the one song Luke had been mad that their former bandmate had recorded without giving the whole band credit – My Name is Luke.

"At least he didn't make it a pop song." Reggie offered.

"Or country." Alex added.

"How could he?!" Luke seethed. "Of all the songs he could have played for his little presentation, he chose this song."

-My Name is Luke.-

As the song's last note was sung, the boys saw Julie subtly signaling them to join the people inside the group.

They arrived at a conference area, where there were a lot of people in suits, some even had cameras and microphones with them. They decided to stand behind Julie and Carlos as they saw Tia Victoria and Ray go on opposite ends of the stage.

Julie's father simply stood at attention while her Tia began making refreshments.

"Thank you for coming, everyone," Trevor was in front, placing the guitar carefully on its stand, before facing the crowd he had gathered. "I especially thank the Pattersons, the Peters, and the Mercers for accepting my invitation to be here today."

The boys' eyes widened at the bomb that dropped before them. They looked around and they definitely saw Luke's parents nodding in acknowledgment.

Alex's family was only comprised of two people, two males. One of them was older than the other by a long shot, but the boys can see how Alex and the men were siblings, the resemblance was there.

The older Mercer was wearing a Trans pride flag bracelet while the younger Mercer wore a simple rainbow flag bracelet.

"I only have one brother?" Alex voiced out, confused.

"You have two," Julie whispered. "Look at his bracelet, it means he is being true to himself, being a man."

"You can do that?" Reggie questioned.

"I'm happy for him." Alex smiled.

Reggie's family also consisted of two people, two males. Both didn't have much of an age gap as the Mercers present, but you could clearly see who the elder brother between the two was.

"So I'm just going to rip the band-aid," Trevor announced. "The first few hits that I released aren't my actual compositions, they were written or co-written by my late bandmates Luke Patterson, Alex Mercer, and Reggie Peters."

"So you stole their songs," The Eldest Mercer present rolled his eyes. "Tell us something we don't know."

"So some people knew that Bobby stole our songs," Luke grinned as he gave Alex an appreciative nod.

"Stole, infringed, believe what you want, I thought the song 'My Name is Luke' was a dead giveaway that a lot of the songs I recorded weren't my original composition," Trevor replied. "I was upfront with my intention with the songs when I signed with Callaghan, a couple of memorial albums for them."

Luke narrowed his eyes at the revelation.

"I won't be giving any of you my excuses, but rather the legal clauses that prevented me from divulging that fact until now."

"Why now?" Reggie's youngest brother asked.

"As of last week, my contract with Callaghan Music Entertainment was voided with their arrest, "Meaning the non-disclosure clauses on those albums were null as well."

"I suppose even you can't argue with those non-disclosure clauses," The eldest Peters nodded. "It was still pretty stupid to get trapped in it in the first place."

"You are right, it was stupid," Trevor nodded. "Try being a teenager who just lost his entire band a few years prior if not for the empathy of one Orpheum worker and her boyfriend I would have joined them sooner," He couldn't help but bit out. "The only thing I could think of was rushing to record their songs so that the world could hear how insanely talented my bandmates were."

Julie and Carlos looked at their father in awe, who was standing on the sides, ready to catch Trevor whenever he falls.

"Callaghan being the douchebag that he was, trapped me in a non-disclosure clause that prevented me from speaking the truth about their songs." Trevor sighed.

"Daddy…" Carrie trailed off.

"Why didn't you just go to prison?" The youngest Mercer challenged. "The fact remains that you stole their songs, you could have just made a statement then went to prison for it, can't handle leaving your luxurious life?!"

"Theodore behave yourself." The eldest Mercer admonished.

"But, Jus, he stole Alex's songs, Sunset Curve's songs." Theodore Mercer justified himself.

"Imprisonment is not a typical penalty for breaches of contract, it's much, much worse." The eldest Peters corrected. "The youngest Mercer also presents a good point, Wilson," He continued. You could have paid for the monetary damages with the earnings you have had with the sales of those songs."

"No, he can't," One of Trevor's lawyers announced. "We are still in the process of determining if Mr. Wilson's contracts as illegal, there was also a penalty clause, and Mr. Wilson will have to pay the record company the total amount he got from the sales of the songs.

"Why are my parents silent in all of this?" Luke couldn't help but ask, still at a loss at the revelations.

"Maybe they already knew?" Reggie offered. "My brothers definitely moved away from Los Angeles after I died, apparently so did Alex's siblings."

"Trevor was probably able to inform your mother and father of what happened." Alex nodded.

"Shouldn't they be angry on my behalf?"

"I think they understood Trevor's plight." Julie whispered.

Luke couldn't help the resentment that bubbled up inside him.

"They can understand Bobby? Who stole our songs but couldn't understand me?!"

"We don't know the whole story, Luke." Julie offered.

"So yes, you can sue me for this," Trevor finally ended his presentation. "Just leave my daughter out of it."

"That's enough, Bobby." Mitch Patterson stood up. "No one is going to sue."

"But!" one-half of the Mercers and Peters wanted to protest.

"I will have words with the four of you." Mitch dismissed their protests.

"Bobby, please sit down." Emily stood up and approached the grieving man. "Your condition could worsen."

"Would the media personnel please file out of the conference room," Ray announced. "This has become a family meeting between the aggrieved families."

"Flynn, Julie please help your papa escort them out of the room." Victoria ushered the children, "Carlos please help me distribute the refreshments."

The children nodded as they immediately heeded their instructions.

"Hija," Victoria approached Carrie. "Why don't you join your father, he could use your company."

Carrie, who looked like she was still reeling from everything she learned today, silently nodded and went to sit with her father, who was comforted by an old lady she didn't know.

"We talked about this, Bobby," Emily gently chided. "You cannot hold yourself guilty over their deaths, we both lost the boys that day."

"Their songs, Emily."

"We appreciate your efforts, Bobby." Emily tearfully smiled at the man. "We really, do, just knowing how successful Luke's songs would have become if he were alive today, is enough for Mitch and me."

"How could you forgive me for this mistake, Emily?"

"Because you almost lost your life the same way Luke and the others did," Emily answered. "For years, you had sworn off of music, I can only thank Rose and then her boyfriend for getting you back on track."

The boys couldn't take any more revelations and simply poofed out of the Wilson mansion.

----------

As Julie helped her father and best friend keep the media personnel, company, she was suddenly called by her younger brother.

"They're calling for you," Carlos informed.

Julie simply nodded and went back inside. She had no idea why she was being called, her correspondence with Trevor and with the Pattersons were separate.

She was surprised when she saw the Pattersons inside the conference room, but it wasn't illogical as Trevor was a member of Sunset Curve.

"Emily, this is Rose's daughter, Julie." Trevor introduced her to Emily. "

"You're the girl who gave us Luke's song." Emily smiled at Julie.

"You mean, Unsaid Emily?" Trevor questioned the Molina.

"I found it at the loft in the garage while cleaning up mom's things." Julie lied.

In truth, Julie didn't know where it was, she didn't even know where Luke found his journal. She decided to stick with the story that she told the Pattersons the day she gave the song to them.

"I tried to find that song," Trevor admitted. "I'm happy that you got his song for you in the end, Emily.'"

"Music was really his passion," Emily gave a sad smile. "I wish I could just tell him how proud me and Mitch were of him."

"I believe he knew." Julie assured the elder woman.

"Is it true, daddy?" Carrie decided to voice out. "You did not sing because your bandmates died?"

"Yes, baby," Trevor admitted to his daughter. "If not for Julie's mom and dad, I would have left music for good."

Carrie gulped.

"Can I be excused?"

"You can be, baby girl." Trevor nodded. "We'll talk later, okay?"

-----------

"Bobby was trapped," Alex summarized everything he learned today.

"My parents knew." Luke couldn't believe what he just learned. "They knew my dream was worth chasing."

"It was a lot to take in," Reggie admitted. "I was ready to poof out when Alex's brother started challenging him."

"I have to hand it to your brothers, Alex, Reggie, they did not resort to shouting matches." Luke praised. "Despite the tension between our families."

"I think my brothers knew of Reggie's family life," Alex offered. "We've been talking loudly about everything even when they're with us."

"Still that was pretty impressive." Luke nodded.

"Reggie's and Alex's brothers won't sue Trevor," Julie delivered the news as soon as she entered the garage. "Mitch was able to convince them otherwise, he explained to them the circumstances behind the whole song theft thing."

"So they knew everything from the start," Luke sighed. "I thought they didn't know…" He trailed off.

"The reason Luke's parents were the only ones who knew, was because Reggie and Alex's families moved out of Los Angeles when they died," Julie delivered some more facts. "Alex's parents decided to bury Alex without a funeral while they took Reggie's remains with them and bury his body elsewhere."

"So that's why I didn't find my grave!" Reggie exclaimed. "And the house turning into a bike shack."

"Figures," Alex sighed. "I shouldn't be surprised that they didn't even bother to give me a funeral service."

"Alex…" Luke placed his arm over the drummer boy's shoulders.

"The church the Mercers were with, they refused to give Alex a funeral service, or that's what Alex's older brother told Trevor. "The reason they were here, apart from Trevor's invitation, was to relocate his body somewhere else."

"How do you know all this, Julie?" Luke asked.

"Trevor decided to introduce me to your parents," Julie shrugged. "He's also happy that Emily got the song you wrote for her."

"So he DID try to find that song."

"Trevor claims so that he could give it to your mother," Julie immediately added. "If your parents could be understanding, Luke, why can't you be?"

"It's just hard, alright!" Luke stood up, defending himself. "How could I get over this feeling of betrayal?!"

"I'm not saying you should get rid of it, I'm telling you to understand." Julie stomped forward.

Luke looked around, and he saw that Reggie was already clenching his fists, likely from the argument that broke out. Alex had already placed an arm over their bassist's shoulders.

He took a few deep breaths before he calmly responded to Julie. "He was like my brother, Julie," He took another deep breath. "For the longest time, I thought he had my back, I thought he wouldn't rip us off, but we come back 25 years later and find out that he's been profiting off of the songs I wrote."

"Theo was right, Julie," Alex added his thoughts. "Bobby could have just ignored the clause and told the truth anyway, I have no doubt that he could bounce right back up."

"Then let me finish," Julie responded calmly. "Let me help you, the three of you, understand the situation."

"What is there to understand?" Reggie questioned. "I know he was trapped, he still ripped us off."

"The situation isn't as black and white as the three of you might think," Julie shook her head. "I asked Tia and my dad about how contracts work, and believe me, there's no conceivable way for Trevor to bounce back."

"What do you mean?"

"Not only would other record labels not sign Trevor, as soon as he violated the non-disclosure clause, as they wouldn't trust him after that, but the damages that he has to pay the record label would also leave him broke, or at least that was what dad and Tia said."

"Is that really possible?" Reggie asked.

"The business side of every industry is brutal," Julie sighed. "I don't think anyone not signed to a record label knew that."

"The fact doesn't change that he ripped us off," Luke insisted. "The guy I viewed as a brother betrayed me, Julie!"

"And that is valid, I'm not saying it isn't," Julie assured the boys. "All I'm asking is your understanding and you to forgive him," She explained her side. "Just remember, it might've been just a few months for you, Trevor and the others have had 25 years to process their grief."

"25 years…" Alex trailed off.

"We were gone for a long time guys," Reggie informed his bandmates. "For a very long time."

"Everyone looks so old."

"Dude we already established that." Luke reminded his friend.

"You don't understand," Reggie insisted. "We've been gone for 25 years, everyone feels old, and everyone looks old."

"Reggie's right," Alex nodded, "We were so caught up with our second chances and with Caleb that we hadn't processed that fact."

"What do you mean?"

"Dude, your parents have had years to process everything Bobby did to us," Reggie tried to explain. "We decided to haunt him as soon as we knew what he did, they've had time to let Bobby explain his side of the story and were very understanding of it."

"Everyone has had time to grow while we practically stayed the same," Alex pointed out. "Bobby and I may have been the voices of reason within our band, but I'm still bound slip up without Bobby to reign all of us in, the same is true for him, without us with him, it's no wonder he'd made a few bad choices."

As the boys tried to explain their realization to their lead guitarist, Luke was busy processing every single fact he learned since he returned to the studio.

The boys were right, 25 years had passed. Everything around him changed while he and his bandmates remained the same.

"I'll let you boys process everything," Julie voiced out. "Let's continue tomorrow, okay?"

"We'll deal with Luke." Alex nodded.

As soon as Julie closed the door, Luke slumped on the couch.

"We've been gone for more than 25 years." Luke stated.

"What now?" Reggie asked.

"We clearly need time for ourselves, and I need to clear my head." Alex voiced out. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Be careful!" Reggie called out as Alex poofed out of the garage.

Reggie looked at Luke's unresponsive form, he was still in the middle of processing everything.

"Thanks for earlier," Reggie expressed his gratitude. "I know how stubborn you can be when someone challenges your views."

"Reg, I'm not heartless to argue with Julie with raised voices," Luke smiled at his bassist. "I know what happened in your family life, we're brothers and we're supposed to be there for each other."

"Still, thanks for not raising your voice at Julie." Reggie thanked his best friend.

"Any time Reg."

Reggie nodded and decided to poof out of the studio, leaving Luke to process everything on his own.

Not a moment soon, Luke decided to poof out of the studio, leaving the studio.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #luke patterson #regiie peters #trevor wilson #alex mercer #julie molina #story #rdr

5 notes · View notes

buck-nialled · 4 years

Text

Two Million Minutes (5) - N. Horan

NOTE: phew...hope y’all are ready for this one. Please let me know how you feel about this part, feedback is vv appreciated!

PLAYLIST // PART ONE // PART TWO // PART THREE // PART FOUR

Thick tension flooded the house in the days following Niall's outburst toward Veronica. They cooked their food and ate it in their respected rooms, or Veronica did at least. Niall usually obtained the couch to enjoy his golf matches, leaving her in a position too uncomfortable to approach him. Over this span of days, Niall ventured to play guitar and destress. While mentally, he was still dazed by what he had learned to play, his muscle memory was not lacking in the slightest. Foreign chord progressions and strings of lyrics he never remembered writing down but did remember singing flew from him like the last five years of his life was something he could evoke well.

The reoccurring dreams with Veronica also continued. Some innocent, others explicit but every one held intimate undertones. Niall was in the dark when it came to know if they were actual memories resurfacing in his unconscious or chaotic figmentations his mind introduced to mock his lack of a relationship. If Niall had continued his string of occasional one-night stands prior to his hospital visit, maybe this was a way of telling him he was overdue for one.

But to hook up with his roommate? His platonic roommate? Not only was the timing inopportune, but she was the single-most trustworthy person nearest to Niall in the central Los Angeles area. To ruin the enigma of a “bond” they had built over the last few weeks seemed like a step too far. Therefore, Niall concluded he would not risk such a thing just to appease his sexual frustrations. In fact, all Niall wanted to do in his moments of quiet was talk to her about something other than the problem.

It was one-night Niall entered the living room to find Veronica sat on the couch. Her dark tendrils fell along her back which was clad in a large sweatshirt as her back rested against one of the arms. Her eyes were focused on the television as she flicked through the channels with little care. It was obvious her mind was elsewhere by the countless number of shows she scrolled over that she adored. Wait, when did Niall suddenly remember she liked Real Housewives and Animal Planet? Shaking his head, he approached the sofa and sat himself down in front of her. Pausing her thumb against the channel button, her eyes flew to his.

“Hey…” she resituated her position on the couch, bringing her knees closer against her chest. Niall took in their silky-smooth appearance in her cotton shorts. “Did you want the TV? I wasn’t really—”

“I came to say I’m sorry.” Niall sighs, bowing his head. “I shouldn’t have yelled at ya like that. It’s just…tough remembering the hard stuff. And…I’m not sure how much hard stuff I can take.”

“What do you mean?” She warily replies, feeling goosebumps rise on her skin from the cold feeling flooded her insides.

“I’m saying…I don’t think I’m ready to start remembering for a while. Do ya reckon...we could just take a break?” Veronica strains to keep her features calm and expression solid, but Niall catches the twitch in her lips as she nods up and down.

“Yeah…that’s fine.” She whispers, looking back down to the warm remote in her grip. Niall caught tears brimming her eyelids before her head craned down. Though he does not quite recall how tight-knit his relationship with the girl was, he does know they must have cared for one another to a massive extent.

“Vee, what’s wrong?” A shattered gasp comes from the woman as her head snaps back up to face him. The nickname was something subconscious, but Niall knew it triggered something within her. “Was that…did I call you that a lot.” She nodded her head up and down, lips trembling.

“Only you called me that, always. Niall…”

“Yes, love?”

“I-I know you’re scared…” the way she began her sentence, Niall knew she would somehow manipulate the subject to point to her suffering. “But…god, this is gonna make me sound like an asshole.” For some reason, her acknowledging the words to come made Niall’s slow-boiling anger come to a simmer inside of him. Or maybe it was the soft spot he had grown for her, which is still very much being dug into him. “I’m scared, too. I know, I can’t know what it’s like to be in your shoes but…damnit I hate being in my own right now.” Niall only nods, allowing her to continue her flow of thoughts, uninterrupted.

“I-it’s just there are so many things for you to try and look back on and I know some of them you’re just gonna skim over. Like a book with a—a boring chapter or an episode to a show that makes no sense I feel like you’re just gonna glimpse and be done with it, and—and I—” Her chest heaves continually while her body crunches into broken sobs.

“I don’t want to be someone you throw away. I-I don’t want to be looked over, Ni. You mean so much to me and I—" Some syllables were drawn out more than others due to her uneven tone and shaky breath. There was no more she needed to say but Niall knew she needed to say it for her. Neither had noticed how they inched closer to one another until her tears fell from her chin, sprinkling, and soaking into Niall’s legs. Her hands flew to her face as she sniffed, but they remained for only a second before Niall’s larger ones blanketed them.

“Hey, hey…” Niall coos, slowly slotting their fingers together. How comfortably they fit together was something the man was ignorant of. But Veronica would be grateful for the gesture for the rest of the night, and weeks to follow. It was the most intimate the two had been in advance to his concussion. “I’m not going to throw you out, okay?” He comforts, dragging their joined hands away from her face. “I won’t.”

“P-promise?” She questions, voice quaky.

“How about this? I won’t give up on you, Vee, but you can’t give up on me, either. I’ll try and remember, but we gotta go at my pace, okay?” The woman sniffs, nodding her head frantically.

“Deal. Deal.” She repeats, removing her hands from his and slinging her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her. When his hands came to rest at her mid-back, the feeling of home Veronica had been so urgently pining after for weeks settled snugly at the bottom of her stomach. Meanwhile, Niall’s insides became victim to a nervous fluttering sensation he felt best he not let show.

“Do you want t’ watch a movie?” Niall offers once they untangle from one another. When the cold air hits her skin once more, Veronica wishes he would have held on longer. “Goonies always cheers ya up…” Niall points, before letting his lips part in surprise by his knowledge.

“That’s right.” Veronica bares a little of her teeth, and the sight is enough to make Niall regret his earlier words. Now he was digging around his head, trying to see if he could remember anything else about the woman, but was fruitless. Veronica began playing the film and snatched a soft blanket hanging off of the sofa’s back pillows. She swung it out to cloak both her and Niall in its clean-cotton softness. Each line the girl could recall, she would recite along with the character verbatim, and that was what she occupied herself with during most of the film in between small laughs. Niall, however, immersed himself in the sight of Veronica enjoying herself with him present in the same room with a similar grin. She paid little notice to his stares and sunk further into the couch every few minutes as the warm blanket aided the restlessness, she had suffered the past few days.

Eventually, Niall’s arm brought itself to rest on the back of the couch and Veronica had slouched against his side. Neither protested the organic attraction of their bodies and rather, situated themselves closer. Niall’s neck craned down at one point to inhale the refreshing aroma of her hair. A new set of images flashed through his mind this time. His view was fogged with steam, the showerhead projected scalding water over Niall’s and Veronica’s bodies as their bodies repeatedly collided against the tiled shower wall and each other. Their collective moans were a symphony and that same scent Niall was being subjected to now, at that moment, made Veronica particularly insatiable.

Veronica’s eyes nearly sealed themselves shut when the thumping of Niall’s heartbeat picked up rapidly and his build grew stiff. She picked her head up off of his shoulder to find him staring ahead at the living room wall.

“Niall? Is everything okay?” Her hand pressing itself against his chest made his throat tighten. A familiar feeling runs through him, but he was certain he had never felt it until then. A friendlier version of fight or flight overcame his system and exposed him to more endorphins than he reckoned the human body could hold. A lump formed in his throat and at that moment, Niall would not have been surprised If it was his heart trying to leap out onto his sleeve. Beads of sweat formed in his palms which he tried holding still to not concern the woman beside him. In addition, he felt his face grow hot with intensity from the thoughts appearing in his mind without his consent. They flooded him instantaneously but skipped like a broken record. The mysterious, reoccurring face who starred in Niall's dreams now held clarity, and confirmed Niall's ceaseless wonders. He and Veronica could not have been just roommates. Unless Niall was desperately in love with the girl and pretended to be okay with the fact. Once acknowledging that his acting was sub-par, the first one remained his hypothesis.

“Yeah. M’fine.” He insisted, pleading internally for his body to relax against his couch once more. So much for remembering at my own pace, he thought.

66 notes · View notes

popwasabi · 4 years

Text

Civilization is coming: “Black Sails” and when rage is justified

(SPOILERS ahead! You’ve been warned...)

There’s a moment late in the first episode of the highly underappreciated series “Black Sails” that hints not only at the troubled past of its lead character Captain Flint but also describes the larger theme of the story.

Flint has gotten himself into trouble. Along with his crewmember Billy “Bones,” in an effort to secure the financing he needs to capture the gold from the Spanish warship known as L’Urca de Lima, his recklessness has gotten Nassau’s governor shot and injured and his plans all but evaporated. Billy feels they are now in too deep and they should not only turn back but perhaps new leadership is needed for Flint’s crew. It is here that Flint reveals a bit where his true ambitions lie.

youtube

(Toby Stephens, ladies and gentlemen.)

On the first viewing, Flint ominously declaring the pending arrival of “civilization” to the new world could mean anything from simply the imperialistic tendencies of the British and Spanish empire, to the draconian rulership of the crown or just “taxes” as he makes light mention of in this speech. But as the series progresses, especially in the second season, “civilization” begins to take a darker, more personal meaning.

The story begins to reveal that the dangerous pirates of Nassau are not at least inherently dastardly, although certainly violent, but victims of their various circumstances; a former slave turned prostitute turned keeper of secrets in Max, a neglected daughter becoming the bookkeeper of the pirates with Eleanor Guthrie, another former slave turned ruthless pirate captain in the vicious Charles Vane, and an abused woman turned deadliest pirate on the island Anne Bony, and none more painfully revealing than that of Flint himself.

You see Flint didn’t always go by this name, he used to be a prominent officer in the British navy named James McGraw until he met Thomas Hamilton, a wealthy proprietor tasked with solving the problem of the pirates of Nassau many years prior. Thomas had the radical idea of pardoning the entire island to bring them back into society, to avoid violence and bloodshed, and to better understand the people who would turn to piracy.

As James gets to know him more and his revolutionary philosophies of empathy and enlightenment the two unexpectedly fall in love and thus seal the fates of both their downfalls from “civilized” society.

With England unwilling to see any other way to end the pirates without exterminating all of them and looking to exploit weaknesses in Thomas to Parliament, he is outed and imprisoned. James along with Thomas’s wife Miranda, who lives in a polyamorous relationship between the two, are persona non-grata-ed and the two flee to Nassau to finish what Thomas started in an act of rebellion.

(This is seriously one of the most heart-wrenching, tragic reveals I have ever seen on TV. I totally knew it was coming at the time and I was still not prepared for how it was delivered.)

There are few things as personal as love and “Black Sails” uses this to show how far society can go to villainize people. Flint wasn’t born a monster, and he is not one for loving Thomas; he is a monster because “civilization” wanted him to be one.

As our own civilization enters a timeline that may promise great change, people who have been othered and victimized by society are finding themselves grappling with their pain and grief in the same way as Flint. People have tried peaceful reconciliation and conformity into society to avoid violence throughout history despite the labels they have been given for no other crime than being who they are, but civilization’s need for a monster always brings people down no matter how hard they try to do it the “right way.”

(Tell me if you see a justice system in this picture that looks interested in listening...)

Native Americans tried playing by the white man’s rules when America began moving west. Compromising over and over again and yet they were killed and still killed and neglected today for it.

African Americans tried becoming rich like their white counterparts in places like “Black Wallstreet” in Tulsa, Oklahoma and were still bombed and massacred for it.

Asian and Latin Americans immigrated here to flee war and death largely caused by white imperialist countries, to survive and work jobs white Americans would not. Both are othered as foreigners, face violence from the state, and are deported everyday.

Poor working-class Americans try fruitlessly to keep their head above water as they become mired in debt, fighting a pandemic on slave wages essentially, all while our government cuts wealthy companies a fat paycheck annually with our own tax dollars. And anyone who fights back finds themselves without an income and health insurance during a recession and a pandemic.

And the LGBTQ+ community ask for the dignity to be left alone and treated normally but not only are they harassed for it but they are beaten, tortured, and killed for being different.

(Remember, Stonewall was a riot.)

Flint, himself, tries one last time, toward the end of season two, to peacefully resolve his vendetta with England and save Nassau from a war with them but instead finds himself facing the gallows anyways by the Charlestown government.

As they read out his charges, many of them real heinous things he did but also many that were fabricated, Flint stops them from proceeding any further and delivers a final act of defiance to the court.

“I have one regret,” he begins to the court of high society folks who are only interested in seeing him punished before the masses. “I regret ever coming to this place with the assumption that a reconciliation could be found. That reason could be a bridge between us. Everyone is a monster to someone. Since you are so convinced that I am yours, I will be it.”

It is at this point in the story that Flint, perhaps like other revolutionaries of the past, recognize that the system doesn’t want to reason with him, that these people aren’t looking to understand or empathize with him or even try for that matter. They wanted a monster, they made one in him, so he decides there that “civilization” as he had noted in the series first episode is not worth reconciling with and certainly not worthy of forgiveness.

And Flint spends the rest of the series in bloody war with them.

youtube

(From season 3. Again Toby Stephens, ladies and gentlemen)

“Black Sails” is about queerness, race, social politics, and the way conformity by force is used against it. It’s about the rage that boils underneath many of us as we are wronged over and over again by society, while being exploited to no end, and what happens when someone finally says “enough.”

Anyone who has experienced what it is like to be othered can find something deeply personal with the anger that Flint carries around with him in each scene of this series. We feel his pain of rejection by society, his grief for feeling ashamed of himself when he and the audience know he shouldn’t.

It's what makes the eventual reveal of his relationship with Thomas so cathartic, as we see the rage-filled guard of Flint drop as he reads Thomas’s words left for him in a book they both loved and shared.

(Again, I cannot emphasize enough how much of a gut-punch this reveal was watching this...)

"Know no shame” is so important to growth of this character and the message of this story. Civilization and those who wish to keep the status quo want those who do not fall in line with their authority and judgments to feel shame for who they are. They not only want monsters, they want you to feel like one and the reason Thomas line speaks so much to both Flint and the audience is that it reminds us there is no shame in who we are.

The country we live in is a powder keg right now experiencing the same rage that Flint feels and more specifically how he felt at the end of season 2. Though this country’s racist attitudes and subjugation of the vulnerable hardly started with this presidency it cannot be argued that it has brought all that hatred in our government and the people who support those views painfully to the surface. When people peacefully protest, peacefully assemble, and peacefully try to cast their vote and are still met with resistance, still met with hatred and violence, people have to start to wonder if operating within the system’s rules can actually affect change.

A lot has been made about the way protesters may have violently lashed out over the past three weeks, with media talking heads and privileged elites asking unironically why they couldn’t do things peacefully but more has been done as result of the rising tension than the previous 50 years combined. You can tell people to “#vote” all you want but it doesn’t change the fact that people have been trying that for decades and people are still getting quite literally killed for it.

(Again, I gotta ask, who is this protecting? Who is this serving?)

If there’s one takeaway I hope a viewer gets from “Black Sails” is that revolution, no matter how serious you are about it, should never be off the table when confronting systemic inequality. A racist, sexist, classist, and/or, in the case of Flint, homophobic power structure does not concede their power if you play to their convenience and when people are being put down, beaten, and often killed for showing their anger at this, calling for “law and order” becomes a slap in the face to the victims.

A government or system that treats you unjustly doesn’t deserve peace.

I’ll say it again.

A government or system that treats you unjustly doesn’t deserve peace.

No one wants it to get this far, I definitely don’t, and certainly not every peaceful mean has been exhausted yet in this fight perhaps but this country was literally founded on violent rebellion after being slighted all the same by out of balance power structures. I’m not advocating for violence or to take up arms against the state right now BUT no one should ever rule it out when the social contract keeps being broken and broken and broken again by those in charge who clearly don’t want to listen.

A government should always feel the threat of an uprising if it keeps wronging its people.

(See my blog post about “Do the Right Thing” if you need help understanding this quote.)

As the more fiery weeks of the protests seem to be in the rearview mirror and we find less activity and calls to action on our social media timelines, I want to remind you all to not let up with whatever you are choosing to do to help and keep fighting back out there. The people who stand to benefit from having angst of the general public leave and dissipate from our collective consciousness want us to forget how angry we are, they want us to feel fatigued and disinterested in continuing the push forward because “this is how they win” as Flint would say.

youtube

(Again, Toby Fucking Stephens, everyone.)

We have so much more power than we realize, just look at how much got done just by everyone uniting behind one marginalized group finally over the past three weeks. When we realize we are fighting essentially in the same battle for respect and dignity, justice in our society can be achieved. It can be done, and maybe just maybe we can finally change the world. Afterall who else has been as close to achieving it as we are right now?

Fight for your dignity and respect and stand in solidarity with others in their own fights as well, and always remember “know no shame.”

Raise the colors and Happy Pride, everyone! (credit: Luluxa on Tumblr)

62 notes · View notes

salthaven · 4 years

Note

not too much salt: Alya and Nino get Lila to babysit again. However an Akuma arrives at Alya's residence for her- your idea and motive. Since Alya wasn't there the villain took the children and Chat Noir and Ladybug fight them. THe parents become aware and Alya and Nino are doubt going to punished because taking care of the children was there responsibility

Thank you for the request, and my apologies for taking so long to get to it! With that said, here you go:

Alya thought it’d be fine. After all, Lila has saved celebrities (and their pets!), she can watch three kids, can’t she? It’s happened before, and Lila is always happy to help!

“That’s what friends are for!” Lila had said with a smile, and so Alya asked her to watch the siblings. Everything would be fine, and Nino and Alya got to go on their date.

It was great. Nino and Alya had plans to see a new movie, then go grab some food before returning home. They timed everything perfectly, so Nino could take Chris home before her older sister or parents found out they’d left someone else in charge. It was great, having someone so kind as Lila to offer her assistance, especially when Marinette was always busy, forgetting her promises, or just plain out flaking out of work.

Tonight wasn’t about that, though. It was about Nino and Alya. And they had a blast. The movie was interesting, and the night was perfect.

But then Gardienne attacked. Wild and rampant, and angry that she’d been unpaid for her work, the young girl had been an easy Akumatization. And then she went off, breaking into homes and taking their kids.

“If you won’t pay me to watch them,” she hissed out, “you’ll pay to get them back!”

Alya hadn’t even known about the villain du jour, not until she glanced out through the window of the café they were in, only to do a double take. Dozens of kids with blank faces roamed the streets, following a teenage girl who was dressed like a princess. With a flick of her wand, the kids chased down one that stood at the end of the street, tackling them and dragging the screaming boy back to Gardienne, who tapped him with her wand.

His screaming cut off quickly, his fear falling away as he stood numbly. A moment later, Gardienne resumed her stroll.

A moment later, Alya was pulling Nino after her, phone at the ready.

She didn’t even notice how her siblings were in the group, or that Nino’s little brother strolled right beside them.

It wasn’t Nino who pointed out Ella, Etta, or Chris’s presence, and Alya didn’t spot it for herself either.

No.

It was Ladybug herself. And the heroine looked pissed.

And it all happened as Alya live streamed.

Ladybug and Chat Noir leaped into action, fighting against Gardienne and avoiding the swarm of kids that the Akuma commanded. It was chaotic, and Alya was practically vibrating as she watched the duo defeat Gardienne. They were so quick, and so in sync with one another, Alya was going to get so many views.

‘Thank God for Lila,’ Alya thought.

She’d regret that thought later.

Ladybug cast her Miraculous cure, and the rush of ladybugs took the kids with them...except three.

Four people remained from the fight: the babysitter, Ella, Etta, and Chris. All four stared up at the spotted heroine with wide eyes.

Alya felt herself tense as Ladybug crouched down.

“Hey,” she said, voice soft. “Do you know where your parents are? Or siblings?”

And Ella turned and saw Alya. “She’s right there!” Ella cheered, and Ladybug snapped her attention to Alya.

Her eyes quickly lost any warmth, and Alya gulped. She’d never seen Ladybug look so… threatening.

“Is that so?” Ladybug asked, voice hardening. “These two are your siblings?”

“Yeah!” Chris said, nodding. “They’re out on a date! Hi, Nino!”

“Uh, hi, bro,” Nino responded, tugging on his hat.

“Who was watching you?” Ladybug asked, bringing their attention back to her.

“Lila!” Etta shouted, then she pouted. “But I wish it was Marinette. She was always more fun.”

“Yeah!” Ella agreed. “Marinette at least protected us during Akuma attacks!”

Chat Noir looked away from the Akuma victim, eyes narrowing as he sent a quick glance to Alya and Nino. “What did Lila do?”

“She ran,” Ella huffed, and Alya froze.

Ladybug froze, too, and then stood up. “Kids, give me and Chat Noir just a minute, and we’ll be right back.” The heroine grabbed Chat Noir by his tail, and then they were off.

“Guys, let’s go home!” Alya said, shutting off her livestream (she’d worry about the contents later). Right then, she had to worry about getting her siblings home, before her parents did. Later, much later, she’d question why Lila left.

But Ladybug and Chat Noir returned before the group was even half a block away.

“Ella, Etta, right?” Ladybug checked, and the girls nodded. “It’s rather cold out, I’ll swing you home.” She glared at Alya. “I’m sure you can make it on your own, considering you were already out and about?”

“I, uh,” Alya nodded. “Sure.”

“Little guy, I’ll get you home before you can count to thirty!” Chat Noir said, picking up Chris. “I’m sure your bro can get there before I reach fifty.”

“I can only count to seventeen!” Chris whined, but he smiled and cheered as Chat extended his staff and vaulted away, leaving Nino to chase after them.

Alya couldn’t help but worry as she raced home. The way Ladybug looked at her, the fact that Lila left her siblings to fend for themselves against an Akuma…

She felt sick.

The feeling only got worse when she opened the door, and her parents were waiting there, drinking hot cocoa with Ladybug and all three of her sisters.

Alya shut the door, and tried to smile at her parents. “Hey, mom-”

“Why weren’t you watching your sisters?” Her mom cut her off immediately, and Alya winced. “I go to work, and I come home to Ladybug telling me that you left Ella and Etta, and someone else’s kid, under the care of some girl we don’t even know?” She shook her head, disappointment clear. “I thought I raised you better.”

“Mom, I-”

“You what?” Her father interrupted. “You left them with someone incompetent! You left them with someone we don’t trust, and that’s not the only problem! You were supposed to watch them yourself, not pawn them off to a classmate so you could go on a date!”

“How was I supposed to know she’d leave them?” Alya retorted. “She’s Ladybug’s best friend, I thought she was better than that!”

“She isn’t my best friend,” Ladybug responded calmly, and Alya felt her jaw drop. “She and I have only interacted when she’s been Akumatized. Which, by the way, has been multiple times. She is a delusional liar, and I’d advise that you never trust her with your siblings.”

“We liked Marinette better, anyways,” Etta said again, then drank more of her hot cocoa.

“Wait, Marinette? Was she watching them, too?” Her mother asked, looking even angrier.

“Not anymore! She hasn’t watched them in over a month!”

“And when did she watch them?”

“Only a few times!”

“Ella? Etta?” Her mother asked, turning to the girls.

“Over a year!” Ella said sweetly, and her mother slammed her hands on the table.

“A year?! Alya, I’ve paid you for watching your siblings! I know your friend Marinette is busy, isn’t she the class president? A designer? A student, just like you? You took up so much of her time, and you never even gave her the money she deserved for her time?!”

“It’s- it’s what a friend would do!” Alya protested, face burning as she avoided Ladybug’s disappointed gaze.

“A friend should expect someone to do work for them, work they’re being paid to do?” Ladybug was the one to ask this, tone full of disapproval. “That’s called using them. I’d be surprised if Marinette is still your friend, it sounds very one-sided.”

“It does,” her father agreed. “But we’ll fix that. Alya, tomorrow you’re going to go to Marinette and give her all of the money you owe her.”

“What?” Alya shouted. “But that- that’s hundreds of euros! That’s nearly all of my money! I saved that up, I shouldn’t have to give it to her!”

“It’s saved up because you unfairly kept it from her,” her mother pointed out. “And I expect you to apologize to her.”

Alya huffed. As if they’ll know whether she actually gives Marinette the money… “Fine.”

“And to make sure you do, I’ll drop you off tomorrow and come in with you!” Her father decided. “I’m due a day off, anyways.”

“What?! No, you can’t do that!” Alya scrambled for excuses, then perked up. “Marinette is always late to school anyways, she won’t get there before you’ll have to go!”

“I’ll stay the whole day if I have to,” her father states, and Alya growled.

“Ugh! This is so unfair!”

“What’s unfair is what you did to Marinette and your siblings. Now, go to your room, I’m done with this conversation,” Her mother said at last, and Alya stormed off, slamming her door shut behind her.

Leaning against the door, she could hear her parents thanking Ladybug, and Ladybug’s cheerful response.

She thought everything would be fine… she thought wrong.

~~~~~

I hope you enjoyed this! And, as a little bonus, the aftermath:

Alya goes to school, a stuffed envelope in hand. Nino is the same, carrying an envelope and ducking his head in shame. It looks like he had a similar talk with his parents.

Marinette arrives twenty-five minutes before the bell, looking… oddly happy, compared to usual. (Although Alya hasn’t paid her much attention in the past month, being too interested in Lila’s tales...which she’s still realising are fake.)

The apology is awkward, and so is Nino’s, but they get through it as the whole class watches on. With shame, the couple gives Marinette the money she’s owed. Marinette accepts their apology with grace, albeit somewhat cold as she points out how they deceived her. She then excuses herself from the class, racing the money home before it can be stolen.

Later, Marinette buys some new fabric. She’ll have fun designing, something she’s been able to do much more since Alya stopped asking for babysitting help.

And life goes on.

443 notes · View notes

worryinglyinnocent · 3 years

Text

Fic: Haven (25/50)

Summary: They say Resembool is a haven, and they’re right. Lush pastures, quaint country town, farmers’ markets on Saturdays: a bucolic paradise.

But it’s more than that. Resembool is a haven for the runaways, the deserters, the people who don’t want to be found…

The Resembool community knows there’s something odd about Hohenheim, but they’re not going to let that stop them helping him out. This is Resembool after all, a place where no one has to hide and neighbours help neighbours, be they building a fence, chasing a sheep, or trying to save the country from an evil they inadvertently helped release centuries ago…

Or: A series of slices of life in an AU in which Hohenheim never leaves, and several broken state alchemists find hope and home in Resembool.

Rated: T

Haven

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [AO3]

Summary: At the annual Resembool bonfire, Pinako reflects on what has happened over the last few years and looks forward to the future.

Characters: Pinako, most of her friends and family

Pairings: Background Yuriy/Sarah and Trisha/Hohenheim

Resembool is not a village really known for its social calendar, but of the few events that take place throughout the year, the bonfire is definitely Pinako’s favourite. The whole town comes together and lets their hair down for an evening of celebration - although precisely what they’re celebrating has long since been forgotten, and now it’s just an excuse to drink and dance the night away.

It was at the bonfire that Pinako first persuaded Hohenheim to open up and get to know some of the rest of the town, and it was at the bonfire that she persuaded him to take a chance on Trisha. She looks over at them now as they twirl around the flames with ease, lost in each other and paying no mind to the rest of the couples, not really paying any mind to the music either. She’s glad that they’re still going strong.

Yuriy and Sarah glide past, just as besotted with each other. It’s the first bonfire that they’ve been to for a few years now, having been at the border in the field hospital for the previous ones. Pinako’s even more pleased to see that they’re still young at heart and having fun despite all the horrors that they saw during the war. They deserve this time, this chance to be unapologetically happy. Goodness knows that they’ve earned it.

Pinako looks sideways from her comfortable perch on a log, turning her gaze towards the children. Winry, Ed and Al are clustered together with a group of others from the school, and Pinako almost dreads to think what they might be conspiring to do. It certainly wouldn’t be anything remotely related to the dancing. They’ve reached that age where the opposite sex is some kind of strange disease, and whilst Winry and the Elric brothers get on like a house on fire as friends, they wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything as smushy as dancing.

Pinako remembers when Yuriy was the same age and had been in his own trio with Sarah and Trisha. She always knew he’d end up with one of them in the end, and despite all their protests that they were never going to get married ever, ever at all, she’s not surprised that it was Sarah, always the most vehemently opposed to matrimony of the three, that he ended up with.

She has to wonder what the eventual outcome of Winry, Ed and Al will be.

She thinks Ed. He and Winry tend to bicker the most and that’s usually a good indicator.

“Hey.”

Pinako breaks off her train of thought and looks up as another tankard of beer appears in front of her. She jabs her pipe back in her mouth and takes it as Kenneth from the guesthouse sits down beside her. For a while, nothing is said. Nothing needs to be said. Theirs is a small town and everyone knows everyone else. Even the new arrivals that they’ve had over the last few years, fleeing out of Ishval from all sides, are quickly becoming part of the furniture now.

“Well, it’s been a year,” Kenneth says eventually.

“It has indeed.” It’s been a tumultuous year, all of the good mixed in with a hefty dose of bad. The war in Ishval has officially ended now and there’s peace in the region - but that peace has come at the price of almost an entire population being wiped out. There are pockets of survivors here and there; their own Ishvalan community is thriving if living in a state of constant unease at the moment, and Pinako knows that a lot of them made it out to Xerxes.

(Hohenheim was very happy to hear that the place that was once his home is now becoming a home again, to a people who are ultimately victims of the same villain that wiped out Xerxes the first time around.)

It feels like they should be celebrating the bloodshed ending at last, but at the same time, the losses that they’ve faced have been sobering, especially when Resembool itself has escaped relatively unharmed and with few casualties, remaining the safe little haven that it’s always been.

She looks around at the other clusters of people around the bonfire. The Ishvalans generally keep to themselves but are happy to mingle when approached, and she’s not surprised that their small cohort of ex-state alchemists are absent from the festivities. Roy has never been near the bonfire and she can’t say she blames him. Maybe one day he’ll look on the fire in a different light, but she’ll be the last person to hold it against him if he never truly gets over that trauma.

Pinako wonders if they’ll get any more newcomers. During the war, when people started coming, they didn’t tend to stay very long for the most part, Resembool being so close to the action. Maybe that will start to change and people will make more long-term plans here. None of those who have stayed show any signs of moving on any time soon. Pinako hopes that people will stay. There’s more than enough room in the village’s collective heart for them.

There’s a definite shadow lurking over the bonfire this year, just as there has been for all of the previous years throughout the war. Pinako doesn’t think that it will ever go away, not when she knows what’s at stake and why everything has been happening. They’re living in a dark time. They’ve been living in a dark time for longer than they can ever fathom; it’s only now that they’ve really realised it.

Still, the bonfire has always traditionally been a time of celebration and happiness, and Pinako’s not going to let the dark thoughts get in the way of enjoying good beer and good company.

The kids rush over, pleading to be allowed to roast marshmallows on the bonfire now that the dancing has stopped to let the musicians get their breath back. Yuriy rolls his eyes and takes them to find long enough sticks as Sarah, Trisha and Hohenheim come over and settle down around Pinako.

Ultimately, despite everything that’s gone on over the last few years, Pinako feels that right now is a moment for happiness. She’s surrounded by her family, both blood and bond, and she knows that this is a time that she will hold in her heart for a long time to come.

#FMA:Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Pinako Rockbell #Fic: Haven

1 note · View note

murasaki-murasame · 3 years

Text

Since Higurashi Gou’s on break this week, I figure this would be a good excuse to make one big post going over all of my current theories, and also how I feel about the other popular theories in the fandom.

[This will have both Higurashi and Umineko spoilers in it]

On a meta level, my over-arching theory for Gou is that it’s basically a series of forgeries written by Featherine. Basically I think that some time after Matsuribayashi, Rika came into contact with Featherine, shared information about everything to do with Hinamizawa, and she decided to write her own stories based on that info.

Going down this route, I think the Rika we see in Gou [at least on the gameboard level] is basically a distinct fictional construct who more or less branches off from around Tsumihoroboshi or so. Basically I think this version of Rika doesn’t actually know the truth about Takano, or that her friends are starting to remember past timelines, and I also wouldn’t be surprised if whole elements of her backstory have been tweaked to fit the story that Featherine wants to write. I also think that the happy ending timeline she referenced in ep2, and her quoting stuff Keiichi said in the past in Tataridamashi, might instead be about some kind of original arc that’s just meant to trick us into assuming she’s talking about the last few arcs of the VN.

Mostly I just think that with how things have gone thus far, it really doesn’t come across like Rika actually knows about Takano being evil. This could just be a case of clunky writing where they don’t want to spoil it for new fans, so Rika’s being made to act weird and out of character in order to keep it a secret, but stuff like her rant to Keiichi in Watadamashi make me think that she straight up hasn’t been doing anything about Takano in these arcs, and her whole attitude in Tataridamashi of ‘we can change fate by saving Satoko’ while not saying or doing anything about Takano seems really weird if we assume that she remembers everything from the VN. The whole deal with Minagoroshi was that saving Satoko wasn’t actually enough to achieve a happy ending, since Takano ended up killing everyone anyway. So it’d be really weird for Rika to fall into that same mindset again.

And on the note of Takano, like most people I think she’s probably not the villain this time around, one way or another. For one thing it’d just be kinda underwhelming for old fans if they do that again, but I think they just don’t have time to actually do the whole Takano thing in Gou unless we get an entire second season after this. Which could happen, but I’m basing all of my theories on the assumption that Gou will just be 24 episodes, since that’s all that’s been confirmed.

There’s also the fact that the first half of Gou has provided far less evidence to allow new fans to even start piecing together what Takano’s deal would be. We haven’t seen Tomitake’s corpse get found with his throat clawed out, so it’d be pretty difficult for new fans to guess that Takano kills him in each arc. Technically they aren’t even shown to die in any arc in Gou yet, since they just go missing and their bodies are never found, so new fans wouldn’t even know if either or both of them die in any of the arcs. By extension, Watadamashi also didn’t have the whole plot point of ‘the police found Takano’s corpse in the mountains and figured out that it had died before the festival even ended’, which in the VN was a pretty massive hint that she was faking her own death. And since Tataridamashi avoided having Keiichi kill Teppei, while also ending before the festival can even get going, Takano and Tomitake don’t even do anything in that arc at all except show up to support the protests, even though Tatarigoroshi also provided it’s own massive hints toward Takano being suspicious, and her being responsible for Tomitake’s death.

Tatarigoroshi also ended with our first proper look at the GHD, but there was no reference to that happening in Tataridamashi, or any of the other arcs. If anything, it seems pretty intentional that every arc seems to end with a flash-forward to at least a few days after each arc ends, with no reference to the GHD happening. It’s possible everyone was just keeping it a secret from Keiichi at the end of each arc, but each arc has a different person telling him about what happened while he was unconscious, so it seems unlikely that they’re all coincidentally lying to him about the same thing. And in general I think that if the GHD happened in any arc, we would have gotten some obvious clues about it.

I know everyone disagrees about if Gou is actually meant to be accessible, let alone solvable, for new fans, but I’m on the side of thinking that it is, which is why I think the lack of any kind of evidence for the GHD happening [or Takano doing anything more suspicious than going missing in the first two arcs] says a lot about the direction Gou is taking with it’s mystery.

The question then is just whether Takano’s just being prevented from carrying out her plan in each arc, or if things have fundamentally changed with her. Personally, I’d prefer it if they committed to having her be genuinely innocent this time around. If she’s still evil but she’s just been getting killed off-screen or whatever, then presumably they’d still have to address her entire deal in order to explain why she needs to be taken out in each arc, which would defeat the whole point of not having her be the villain in Gou, and it’d feel super alienating for new fans. So I prefer the idea that she’s totally innocent. Which wouldn’t really work if Gou is a striaghtforward sequel to the VN, but it could work if Gou is an in-universe forgery. It could be built upon someone’s second-hand understanding of Hinamizawa and it’s history who doesn’t know about Takano being evil, or maybe the person writing it knows about that, but is intentionally changing it in order to set up a new mystery of their own for Rika to solve.

And one way or another, I do think that the whole meta purpose of Gou is to pose some sort of challenge or mystery for Rika to solve. It seems like some kind of third party is dragging her into a new loop with a new mystery she needs to solve, which could have a lot of different explanations, but it could be that Featherine is literally just presenting these new stories to Rika to see if she can solve them.

Anyway, when it comes to the murder mysteries themselves in each arc of Gou, my general theory is still that Keiichi’s been responsible for a lot of it, and one of the big conceits of Gou is that his whole perspective on things has been incomplete and subjective from the start.

In Onidamashi, I agree with the common theory that the events of Tsumihoroboshi were basically happening in the background, with Rena murdering people and falling into paranoia while nobody else realizes what’s going on. I think at the dump site she was genuinely considering killing Keiichi due to suspecting that he found out about her hiding the corpses there, and at the festival I think she ended up killing Takano and Tomitake because she assumed that Keiichi was somehow working with them and had told them about the murders she did.

In their fight scene in ep4, I think Rena was genuinely planning to murder him, and he only started full-on hallucinating about halfway into the fight, when he knocks her out on the table. I’ve seen a lot of people questioning her motives, but I think it’s pretty straight-forward. My theory that she killed Takano and Tomitake seems like it contradicts the idea that she’d still think later on that there needs to be more sacrifices for the curse, but considering how deep Rena’s paranoia is, it’s possible that even after killing them, she just continued to feel paranoid about everything, which made her think that those two weren’t enough to satisfy the curse for that year, and so she needed to kill more people. In general I think she was mostly just trying to protect her father out of fear that he was being targeted by Oyashiro-sama as one of the curse victims of the year, so she was trying to see if killing other people would let her father be spared.

I think that Rena probably got knocked unconscious when she hit the table during the fight, and Keiichi hallucinated her waking up and stabbing him, while in reality he was probably repeatedly stabbing her unconscious body.

Most importantly, I think that after that, instead of Keiichi passing out from blood loss [since I don’t think he actually got stabbed that much in reality], the Rena incident reignited his paranoia, and he jumped to the conclusion that Rika knew about Rena’s plans, and that she intentionally got him to lower his guard around her so that he’d get killed. So I think Keiichi took the knife Rena tried to use on him and then ran to Rika’s house and killed her, with Satoko probably being an unintended casualty. Which would also make the whole story Mion gave of the police suspecting that a burglar broke into their house surprisingly accurate.

I also think that Keiichi tried to claw his throat out after that, but he got found by the police and taken to the hospital before he died from it. Which is why I think he has a neck brace on when he wakes up later, and also why that one nurse asked him about his neck being itchy. Along the same lines of how I think Takano’s a complete red herring in Gou, I think there might not be anything going on with the clinic this time around either. That nurse might have just been asking a normal question about his condition, if they did indeed find him clawing his throat out.

So basically I think the whole arc was a mix of Rena and then Keiichi killing people, and that Takano and Tomitake were basically just innocent victims.

Watadamashi is the arc that I’m most iffy about, but basically my core theory is that Keiichi actually killed Takano and Tomitake off-screen during the festival after what happened at the Saiguden. It always stuck out to me that he seemed even more paranoid about things in this arc than he did in Watanagashi, and yet nothing really seems to come of it. But the way he freaked out at the Saiguden definitely makes me think he could have been capable of snapping and killing those two after everyone parted ways, and the show just kept that info from us.

I’m at least fairly confident about the idea that the whole phone conversation he had with Shion was her making up a fake cover story about what happened to Takano and Tomitake, and getting Keiichi to agree to it. I also think it was probably Mion on the phone posing as Shion. Either way, I think it was along the lines of how everyone in Tatarigoroshi agreed to a fake cover story to hide the fact that he killed Teppei.

After the festival, I think Mion ended up lashing out at the village elders and killing them due to them talking about how Shion and Keiichi broke into the Saiguden and needed to be punished for it. They may have also found out about Keiichi killing Takano and Tomitake, or they at least suspected him of it, so Mion ended up killing them to try and keep him safe. I’m not entirely sure if she killed Shion here, but it’s possible she did, at least if Shion agreed that Keiichi should get punished.

After that, I think a huge part of Keiichi’s paranoia was due to his fear that people would find out about everything he did, and so I think that he got set off by Rika venting at him about what he did at the festival, and her talking about how she was surprised that Takano and Tomitake’s corpses hadn’t been found yet. I think that what actually happened between that episode and the next one is that, instead of joining Satoko for dodgeball, he instead followed Rika and killed her where nobody could see them, and then he took her body to the septic tank. I think this is the whole reason why Satoko was so suspicious of him afterward.

When you think about it, with how condensed the whole flow of events there was, she’d have no real reason to suspect him if he had spent the whole time playing dodgeball with her, and there were probably other kids playing dodgeball as well who would have been able to say that Keiichi was with them the whole time. But the only person who tries to vouch for Keiich is just Mion.

Along the lines of her covering for Keiichi at the festival, I think she was just lying about seeing Rika talking to a construction worker to try and draw suspicion away from Keiichi. I guess it might have really happened, but either way I think she was just trying to cover for him. Which makes me think that maybe she witnessed what he did, and was maybe even the one who moved the corpse to the septic tank after Keiichi killed her. Which would also explain why Mion coincidentally distracted Keiichi right before he tried to go into the septic tank room.

I think she was telling the truth about suspecting that Rika was behind everything, even if she knew about Rika being dead by that point. I think it was more about her thinking that Rika is working with all of the village leaders to perpetuate the curse killings each year, so even if Rika’s dead, there’d still be people following her orders. If we assume that she really did see Rika talk to a construction worker, maybe that made her think that she was giving them orders, and then at the end of the arc when she sees them on the security footage, she thinks of them as her minions.

Then I think the rest is fairly straightforward, with Mion assuming that there’s still some nebulous organization following Rika’s orders who are a threat to Keiichi even after Rika’s death, so she arranges to get him locked up in the basement while she goes off to try and murder them all.

I think it was the construction workers who Mion saw on the security footage [like Keiichi did], but I’m not entirely sure what the deal is with Satoko being at the estate and winding up dead. My best guess is that she snuck into the estate to try and question Mion because she was suspicious about her covering for Keiichi, or maybe just because she thought Mion could help her figure things out, but then things went wrong. Maybe Mion ended up assuming that Satoko was in on the whole thing and killed her, but I’m not sure.

What happens with Keiichi is a lot more iffy. It’s possible that it just went the way it was shown, with him passing out in the safe room and then getting discovered by the police, but with how the other two arcs ended, I doubt it was that straight-forward. It’s possible that the whole scenario of him smashing his head into the door until he passed out was more like a narrative illusion or fantasy, and that Keiichi actually managed to get out of the safe room and head back to the estate, where maybe he was responsible for Satoko and/or Mion’s deaths. I’ve at least seen some people on the Higurashi subreddit point out that in a few shots you can see door handles on the inside of the door in the safe room, which seem to vanish when Keiichi’s trying to bust it open, which could imply that the whole idea of him being unable to open the door was a lie.

I’m not sure if he’d have any motive to kill Mion even if he went full L5, but it’s entirely possible he got suspicious of Satoko and wound up killing her, if he went back to the estate. Though one thing that I think is noteworthy is that, even though I think Shion was probably dead by that point, he actually would have had a motive to kill her if he at least had gone L5. He blamed her for luring him into the Saiguden, so he could have wound up murdering her as revenge for that. But I dunno if that’s actually what happened.

One idea I’ve been toying with is that maybe Keiichi actually killed Mion in the safe room, and the whole strange scenario of him smashing his head against the door and leaving a weirdly giant blood splatter behind was an illusion covering up something like him wrestling her gun off of her and shooting her with it. Then maybe he dumped her body in the well, and then went to the estate where he saw Shion, and wound up killing her. At least if we assume that maybe Mion and Shion were working together in this arc instead of one of them already being dead. Ooishi did say that it was Shion who was found in the well, but maybe it actually was Shion who took Keiich into the basement. At the very least, there’s that scene where Mion leaves him alone in her house for a while and then comes back in a different outfit, which could have represented the two of them switching places off-screen.

In general I’m kinda iffy on this arc in particular, lol. It feels a lot more ambiguous and open-ended than the other two. Or at least more so than Onidamashi.

Also on the note of Watadamashi, the biggest question mark to me in all of Gou at the moment is the whole scene with the statue in the Saiguden, and the empty slot we see in it’s neck. It’s just a really baffling scene since it feels like it’s the only scene in the entire show thus far where it comes up in any way, but it’s one of the most blatantly important pieces of evidence we’ve gotten, even if I dunno what it’s meant to imply. It even happens in the manga version, so it’s definitely an important plot point.

What I can gather from it is that someone had already broken the head off the statue, presumably to steal the sword inserted inside it, and then they stuck the pieces of the head back onto the statue to make it look intact. Although I suppose we can’t just assume that the head being broken and the sword being stolen happened back to back. It’s possible that someone broke the statue, and then at some point later on, maybe even years later, broke back into the Saiguden to steal the sword.

Part of why the statue’s so bizarre is that it seems to be fundamentally different to the statue in the VN. Or at least it’s state is different this time. Instead of how the statue’s hand was broken off in the VN, the hand is intact while the head had been broken off and put back into place. I’ve seen theories that the statue in Gou is a replica of the original, but I think that’s unlikely, both because it just sounds difficult and inconvenient to get rid of an entire statue and replace it with something else, but also because the statue we see in Gou still has the slot inside it’s neck, and it’s the one that had it’s head broken open. If the statue in Gou is just a replica, there’d be no reason to go as far as to replicate the sword slot that nobody can even see from the outside, and if the point of breaking the head was to let someone steal the sword, then there’d be no reason for the ‘replica’s’ head to be broken. So I think it might actually be one of the big hints toward Gou being a fundamentally different world altogether to the VN, where even the history of everything has been adjusted in subtle ways. Satoko originally broke the statue’s hand in the VN before the curse incidents even started, which is way earlier than the part of the timeline that Rika and Hanyuu can go back to by the end of the VN.

I think this is one of the bigger pieces of evidence people use for Satoko being a looper, since maybe she’d have the ability to go that far back in time, but I still doubt that whole theory, so I’m more inclined to think that this is Featherine straight up changing what happened with the statue as part of the new mystery she’s setting up.

One way or another it definitely comes across like the entire thing with Satoko breaking the statue’s hand has been more or less retconned out of existence in Gou. On top of the statue’s hand not being broken, Satoko also never mentions anything about believing it to be the source of her hardships like she does in Tatarigoroshi. Which is another thing where the absence of a certain plot point or clue from the VN feels very noteworthy, especially if you look at it from the perspective of new fans.

Either way, I don’t have much of an idea for who could have stolen the sword, let alone WHY they did it. There hasn’t even been any hint at all toward the sword being involved in any of the murders thus far, and I definitely think they would have pointed it out if it was. So what exactly is the whole point of it? It could just be a ritualistic thing to set up the idea of Oyashiro’s sacred statue being desecrated, but we only find out about it in one arc, and only because the group breaks into the Saiguden and then happens to bump into the statue and knock it’s head off. So if the culprit wanted it to be some public display to stir up talk of the curse or whatever, they kept it pretty hidden, lol.

There’s only a few people who should even know about the sword, but there’s been no real hints toward Rika being responsible for it, and Hanyuu seems totally distanced from the gameboard this time around. Maybe Satoko knows about it, but I’m not sure.

I also have to wonder when exactly the sword got stolen in the first place. It might have actually been way before each arc even starts.

In general it’s just a weird bit of the mystery and I don’t think anyone has any concrete idea of what the fuck’s going on with it, lol.

Anyway, for Tataridamashi, I think the whole arc was basically designed to make Satoko suspicious without her actually being responsible for anything. Across all three arcs I think she’s been set up as a bit of a red herring, but it’s pretty heavy in this arc.

Basically I think that the events of Tatarigoroshi/Minagoroshi really were just happening the same way as in the VN, even if a lot of it was off-screen this time around. And with my theory of this being Featherine’s own spin on events, it’s possible that her ‘version’ of Teppei was just abusing Satoko in a way that didn’t leave visible bruises like in the VN, to basically goad everyone into assuming that she wasn’t actually being abused in the first place. I don’t think Satoko would have any logical reason to fake the abuse, especially stuff like her panic attack which was completely identical to how it went in the VN as far as I remember. And mostly I just don’t think Ryukishi would be comfortable writing a whole plot point of a little girl intentionally faking abuse for some kind of malicious or manipulative reason, especially if it involved twisting an existing story about genuine, realistic abuse. So I just feel fundamentally put off by that whole theory, lol.

Either way, one important thing that’s central to my theory here is the idea that Keiichi was going through a lot more stress and paranoia in this arc than we were shown. Even though they seemed to avoid the Tatarigoroshi route and go down the Minagoroshi route instead with him, I think he still had a lot of paranoia and anger building up inside him about the entire situation with Satoko and Teppei. Same with how Rena and Shion seemed like they were always about two seconds away from snapping and running off to murder Teppei. i also think that an important part of this is how Rika kept talking in ominous and weirdly mature terms about fate and whatnot, and she kept quoting something that Keiichi apparently told her but he has no memory of. I think this ended up contributing a lot more to his stress than he let on, but we did still see how he caught onto what she was talking about and was uncomfortable with it.

At the festival, I think Satoko’s intentions with Keiichi were totally innocent, and that she was taking him back to her house so she could give him Satoshi’s baseball bat. I think that she also set up a harmless trap in her house where Keiichi would pull on the cord to turn on the lights, and some stuff would fall on his head. She probably just set it up to try and lighten the mood and bring things back to normal, and also as a parallel to how earlier in the arc she set up a similar trap in Keiichi’s house. Even in Onidamashi there was a scene where she set up a trap in the school with stuff falling from the ceiling during one of their games.

So basically I think it was a variation of how Onikakushi ended, where this time around it’s Satoko who’s pulling a harmless prank on Keiichi, who proceeds to completely misinterpret it as her trying to kill him.

I’ve seen people point out that it seems really sudden for him to immediately go L5 that fast at the end of the arc, but like I said, I think he’d been dealing with stress and paranoia the entire arc, and it all just burst out at the end. I think he 100% hallucinated Teppei being there because he didn’t want to imagine Satoko doing it, and what actually happened was he ended up beating her to death with the bat instead.

Like with the fight scene in Onidamashi, the way that the lighting effects and gratuitous blood splatter happen in this scene make it seem like an over-exaggerated hallucination, especially since in this scene you can also see smaller and more realistic blood sprays overlaid on top of the super exaggerated blood all over the room.

After that, I think that since Keiichi was already hallucinating Teppei being the one attacking him, it lead to him assuming it meant he was alive, and thus that the entire situation with the village elders and the police working to arrest him and save Satoko was actually a complete ruse, and that they never wanted to save her at all. So, similar to how I think Onidamashi ended, I think he then took the bat, ran back to the festival, and attacked Rika, Mion, and Shion, due to believing that they were involved in some kind of conspiracy to protect Teppei. And then I think Ooishi pulled out his gun and shot Keiichi in the head to stop him.

So that’s basically why I think only those three specifically died at the festival [ignoring Satoko who probably died at the house], and the apparent weirdness with Ooishi pulling out his gun at the festival. I think that’s just meant to mislead us, and that Rena was repressing her memory of what really happened due to being traumatized by it.

I also think that’s why it seems to take Keiichi long enough to wake up in the hospital for it to be autumn, and why he has severe headaches after waking up. It’s possible that instead of it being due to having his head bashed in by Teppei, it was because Ooishi shot him in the head, and he managed to survive it with lasting injuries, and probably memory loss.

Also, aside from all this, I think that literally nothing happened with Takano and Tomitake in this arc, even after the festival. We didn’t see how it all played out, but we didn’t hear anything about either of them going missing, and they didn’t imply anything about the GHD happening even though a lot of time had passed, so I think they probably just survived the festival without anything happening to them, and the GHD never happened. Which seems like it’d imply that Takano’s straight up innocent in Gou, and not just that she’s been killed by someone before the festival ends each time.

So yeah that’s how I think each arc went. There’s a lot of room for interpretation, but I think one of the most important clues we’ve gotten is how every arc ends in basically the same way, with Keiichi getting knocked unconscious and then waking up at the hospital days if not weeks later and being told about what happened while he was unconscious. This is a notable enough pattern that it has to be central to the mystery, which is one of the reasons why I think that the answer is more or less that Keiichi actually WAS involved in all of these off-screen incidents, or at least most of them, and he just doesn’t remember it, and we weren’t shown it.

Of course, this all would imply that there isn’t actually a central ‘villain’ orchestrating everything who needs to be dealt with, and that literally everything is just the result of everyone’s personal problems leading to tragedy. Which might disappoint some people, but I think it could still make for a perfectly satisfying resolution, and honestly if we only have 11 episodes left to work with, it’d be way easier to pull off this sort of an ending than it would be to go through the entire Takano thing, or to set up an entirely new villain and then deal with them.

I also think it might be a sort of meta commentary on how there’s always been criticism about Higurashi’s ending veering away from focusing on the main cast’s personal problems, and getting into full on political conspiracy stuff for it’s final act. So maybe this is Ryukishi’s way of basically rewriting the story so that it stays more ‘focused’ on it’s central cast and themes right to the end.

Also I just think it’d be fitting if the whole trick of Gou is that everyone’s overthinking it and looking for a deeper conspiracy that doesn’t actually exist. Which I think would honestly tie in really well with Higurashi’s central themes of paranoia and distrust, and be a fun way to mess with old fans who try and view Gou through the lens of how the VN plays out.

And even though it might seem like a surprisingly ‘simple’ answer to the mystery, I think it’s noteworthy that Rika spends all of Tataridamashi being 100% convinced that Keiichi’s going to challenge fate and save Satoko and achieve a happy ending, and since Gou feels like it’s designed to mess with Rika’s approach to fixing things, it feels like she’s being punished for having blind faith in Keiichi. So it might still take her a while to actually start suspecting him.

Anyway, that all aside, I know that the whole Satoko looper theory is probably the most popular one in the fandom at the moment, but like I said, I don’t really buy it. It feels like the obvious red herring solution that we’re being lead to believe, but I don’t think there’s any actual concrete evidence for it, especially when it comes to what her motive in any of this could be. I feel like a lot of the theory sorta ends up feeling like ‘I think Mystery Person X did the murder by using Mystery Tool Y’, where basically anyone could have done it instead of Satoko. I’m not entirely opposed to the theory as a whole though, especially with how what seems to be teenage Satoko shows up in the OP. There’s probably something going on with her, but I doubt that she’s been responsible for any murders or anything. If anything, I think it being *teenage* Satoko that shows up in the OP [presumably] might imply that whatever new importance she has is to do with stuff that hasn’t even happened yet in the story.

Considering that teenage Rika and the whole mystery of how and why she got dragged into this new loop when she did exists, I think that either the next arc or the final one might actually continue the timeline several years into the future when she and Satoko are teenagers, but I dunno how that’d play out.

There’s been lots of speculation that Lambda might tie into things here with Satoko, which I can’t help but like the idea of since I’m an Umineko fan, but I at least think that could happen without Satoko being the ‘mastermind’ or whatever.

I think they’d have to be very careful about how they portray Lambda, if she shows up in Gou, since even though Rika’s connection to Bernkastel and even Hanyuu’s connection to Featherine can be fairly easily explained to new fans, the connection between Satoko and Lambda has always been a bit more weird and ambiguous. But if the story of Gou is a fictional story in-universe, it’s possible that Lambda’s role here can contradict her role outside of Gou, for the sake of introducing her in a more understandable way.

Basically I think they might portray Lambda [if she shows up] as effectively being Satoko’s witch form, like Bernkastel is to Rika, with maybe her being responsible for the new loops, whether or not Satoko herself has been responsible for any murders.

Satoko’s motives in doing any of this is a bit iffy, but it’d be neat if they lean into the idea of how Satoshi’s fate was left kinda open-ended and unresolved after Matsuribayashi. Maybe in Gou she ends up wanting to turn back time in order to save him from disappearing to begin with, or something like that. I at least don’t think she’d have any reason to kill anyone, unless she’s being forced into it, in which case it just means there’d be a ‘real mastermind’ behind the scenes, which I doubt we have time for.

I at least think that her deaths in each arc can be easily explained as unfortunate accidents, and that a lot of the moments of her being suspicious could just be red herrings with innocent explanations. Like how maybe she was suspicious of Keiichi in Watadamashi not because she’s actually the mastermind and was trying to place blame on him, but because he didn’t actually join her for dodgeball and instead just followed Rika right before she ended up dead. And her not having any apparent bruises in Tataridamashi might be due to Teppei not using that sort of physical violence on her this time around. She also might have genuinely had her big character development moment from Minagoroshi off-screen, and was telling the truth about revealing her abuse to the CWS and letting them save her.

There’s also the whole theory of Ooishi being behind everything, which I can maybe buy for Tataridamashi and Watadamashi, but I can’t really see it with Onidamashi.

One of my favourite ‘out there’ theories I’ve seen is that Satoshi is basically the culprit this time around, but that’s just because I really want him to be more important this time around than he was in the VN. I don’t actually think there’s any solid evidence for him being responsible for anything in Gou, and even though I’ve seen some really detailed and well planned theories to do with it, it’s another one of those things where you could basically replace Satoshi with any random character you want to explain how everything happened. But I do respect how much thought some people have put into this whole theory, and part of me’s rooting for it even though I don’t thin kit’s true, just because I want to see more of Satoshi in Gou, lol.

Anyway, in terms of how the second half of Gou will play out, I’m really not sure. The fact that the next arc is called Nekodamashi really throws off some of my predictions, since I was assuming the next arc would basically be Gou’s version of Meakashi. And I still do hope that they cover Shion’s backstory from that arc, but we’ll see.

The weird thing is that it sounds like Nekodamashi might be based on the one-episode original OVA from the 2006 anime, but with that being one episode long and this being four episodes based on the BD listings, I think any inspiration it takes from that arc would be very loose, and Nekodamashi will be almost entirely original.

From what I’ve heard, the Nekogoroshi episode mainly existed to hint at the existence of the Yamainu and the stockpile of gas they had stored to trigger the GHD, which is kinda interesting, since I think that the GHD is being effectively written out of the story this time around.

It’s possible the name is just a coincidence, though. Like how there was an arc called Onidamashi in some sort of short story collection released ages ago, that has nothing to do with the Onidamashi arc in Gou.

At the very least, we have some preview images showing Rika in the fragment world, so I guess we’ll see more of her there, and maybe the focus will shift towards her trying to actually piece things together and solve the mystery.

#murasaki rambles #higurashi #higurashi gou #this is REALLY long but mainly just me going over stuff I've said before lol #I just wanted to make one big post compiling it all together #TL;DR: brown's pretty sus :/#I think I saw him venting at the Watanagashi festival >_>

8 notes · View notes

recommendedlisten · 3 years

Text

With so much great music being made, some albums are always going to be overlooked come the end of the year. Time is the biggest hurdle with that. Be it a lack there of to cover every artist with a new album cycle, needing more of it to give a great listen the full attention needed to digest, or the timing of a release just not hitting the same way it does months later, it can grow more difficult by the day to take in everything while appreciating it.

This year, Recommended Listen is taking a look at some of the best overlooked albums on these pages throughout 2020. These are albums that weren’t fully reviewed, found on any volume of Listen to These., on this year’s Best of 2020 lists in any form, and in some cases, not mentioned even in track or video coverage at all. You may already be familiar with some of them, but it would remiss to not given them their due. As the year wraps up, let this be a reminder that discovering new music has no expiration date either.

Arca - KiCk i [XL Recordings]

KiCk i is the the first in a purported four-part series from electronic music reinventor Arca, and with its timing of being released in the midst of the summer’s busy release schedule, it’s understandable how a listen that demands an attentive ear could get lost in the mix. KiCk i, similar to that of Arca’s kindred experimentalist Bjork and her own avant-pop rendering Volta, is still both the artist’s most accessible formation to date, and yet, an alien aural experience by modern pop music standards in the way its human construction collapses and glitches with intention. What we hear here, however, is Arca coming to the forefront of her sound with her voice being used as both instrument and narrator, blurring the lines between any one kind of convention.

Charli XCX - how i’m feeling now [Atlantic Records]

She’s the main reason this post exists, but when she released the year’s first certifiable quarantine album, it didn’t quite hit the same way it does now in December. That’s not to say that how i’m feeling now was not understood upon initial impact -- it seems to be a going theme that Charli XCX works her best experimental pop magic when she’s moving fast and quickly -- but at the start of springtime when the fears of the pandemic were at their most fresh and agonizing, it was difficult to get into the same space as that which she had carved out in the dark using black diamonds and digital euphoria. Time heals, though, and just as Pop 2 sparkled in its own winter, Charli’s isolation feeling wears better forever in the cold just like December.

Dua Lipa – Future Nostalgia [Warner Records]

To call Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia an overlooked album is technically a huge overstatement considering it has been near the top of most major publication’s year-end list and she’s earned the title of 2020’s biggest pop star not named Taylor Swift. Future Nostalgia, much like the Weeknd’s After Hours, came into view at the worst possible timing, however -- Those first arduous weeks of lockdown when the last fucking thing on your mind at that time was club music and dancing. Still, the UK songwriter’s energy has prevailed at the end of 2020 with its funky synthesis of disco, electronica, and futuristic pop production. It may be one of the few things in pop culture this year we feel wistful about when we hear it a decade from now.

Fontaines D.C. - A Hero’s Death [Partisan Records]

Another overlooked listen that fell victim to a super-saturated summer release schedule, maybe it’s better than Fontaines D.C.’s A Hero’s Death, in all of its desperate lamentations, be appreciated during these wintry months than late under the scorching July sun. The most surprising revelation behind the theatre curtain of the Dublin post-punk band’s sophomore effort is in the manner which frontman Grian Chatten has sunken his working class shouting matches into the foci of a bleaker state of mind, and yet, not at the expense of dark comedy and appropriate growl. A Hero’s Death may be a quieter raucous from Fontaines D.C., and also one that suggests that the depths of their sound are most visible when methodically circling the drain.

A Hero's Death by Fontaines D.C.

Infant Island - Beneath [Dog Knights Productions]

We are in the throes of a screamo revival, though Infant Island are a whole different behemoth in that realm on their sophomore outing Beneath. Here, the Virginia-based five-piece eviscerate the scene’s intensity through charring post-rock epics and answering back at the void with raw, bleeding screams. Their style -- a bastion of hardcore, black metal, and beautifully atmospheric rock echoes -- barrels in with it the heaviest kind of weight on the soul every time Infant Island awaken from the pitch black craters. Ultimately, it consumes you and leaves you in their ash.

Beneath by Infant Island

LOMA - Don’t Shy Away [Sub Pop]

One of the things we are slowly, but surely beginning to see in indie rock and guitar-based rock right now is that artists are once again gaining confidence in sounding atypical. LOMA -- the trio of songwriter Emily Cross, multi-instrumentalist and recording engineer Dan Duszynski, and Shearwater frontman Jonathan Meiburg -- quietly are making these strange moves in the further out regions of their sophomore effort Don’t Shy Away. Informed by desertscapes, forests, occult energy, and its own divinely defined relationship between earth and soul, the listen absorbs both the physical and spiritual worlds through sound with LOMA acting as its vessel to communicate between each.

Don't Shy Away by LOMA

Peel Dream Magazine - Agitprop Alterna [Slumberland Records]

Some of the most interesting sounds coming from the next generation of shoegaze shape-shifters this year weren’t always the ones that filtered feedback through a dark, brooding punk heaviness. Akin to fellow breakouts Dummy, Peel Dream Magazine -- the moniker of NYC songwriter Joe Stevens -- is veering far away from those boundaries as well as those in some of today’s indie rock traditionalism with a lush, sun-bent projection on the sound that is entrancingly weird and dilates inner elation. On Agitprop Altnerna, Peel Dream Magazine sophomore effort, the band’s music achieves a new level of metaphysical experience through its collaborative cast, enriching the colors dispersed by its prism.

Agitprop Alterna by Peel Dream Magazine

Porridge Radio - Every Bad [Secretly Canadian]

Porridge Radio were a victim of their own buzz here on Recommended Listen upon the UK post-punk band’s release of their acclaimed sophomore breakout Every Bad. It admittedly happens when an indie rock band with all of the press envy going for them already in every place else (especially with bigger publications) equates to putting their work on the backburner here so that other lesser-covered independent artists can get due coverage just as well. Every Bad is very good, though, with guitarist Dana Margolin tapping into a dynamic,, aggressive side of intimate melancholia with her emotional voice as keyboardist Georgie Stott, bassist Maddie Ryall and drummer Sam Yardley steer the storm in the rough seas of life around her.

Every Bad by Porridge Radio

R.A.P. Ferreira - purple moonlight pages [Ruby Yacht]

2020′s rap game was ruled by its underground hive, and purple moonlight pages was part of writing that story. As the restart button for R.A.P. Ferreria, f.k.a. the prolific Milo, this album hears the man behind the moniker, Rory Allen Philip Ferreira, breaking down the barriers surrounding his bars for an experimental foray into jazz-informed rhymes given a brassy luster by producer and multi-instrumentalists Kenny Segal and his crew, the Jefferson Park Boys. Coupled with poetry of both the personal and the philosophical, the limitless rhythm and flow moving throughout purple moonlight pages has found a place for R.A.P. Ferreira's work where the free art and the perfected in prose can coexist.

purple moonlight pages by R.A.P. Ferreira

Samia - The Baby [Grand Jury Music]

Emotional guitar music being vesseled inside finely-crafted indie rock songwriting is once again in a better place than it’s been left these past several years, and an artist like Samia Finnerty is going to be helping taking it further with her own pen in it after releasing this year’s breakout full-length debut The Baby. If you found yourself humming along to the coming-of-age buzz around the glossy Gen Z navel gazing of UK pop-rock export beabadoobee, this collection of songs by Samia may actually cut keeper below the surface thanks to the way she lyrically mediates life’s darkness and young tribulations adulting during a fucked up time in history with a rose-tinted canvas in her sound. She feels its all, and you’ll feel seen, too.

The Baby by Samia

SAULT - UNTITLED (Black Is) & UNTITLED (Rise) [Forever Living Originals]

The identities behind the collective members of SAULT are as hard to pin as the release dates of their albums themselves, which in 2020, had a tendency to drop out of nowhere and made for two of this year’s most enigmatic moments in alluring sounds from unknown places with their breakouts UNTITLED (Black Is) and UNTITLED (Rise). Each listen arrived as bookends between the epicenter of a summer of protest and resistance across the globe, with the UK band’s fusion of house, experimental electronic, and modern R&B creating a document on the ongoing cultural evolution of these Black-centric styles, but as a medium to confront racial issues through an artfully accessible message.

UNTITLED (Black Is) by SAULT

UNTITLED (Rise) by SAULT

The Weeknd – After Hours [Republic Records]

After Hours is another example on this list of an album you would handedly lose an argument in technically calling “overlooked” considering the Weeknd’s Starboy streaming power and chart-topping success is not losing momentum any time soon. It did go up against a huge emotional wall when it was initially released right as lockdown mode was more on the mind than donning fashionable heathen pop, though, even if it's Abel Tesfaye’s strongest collection of post-breakup wreckers and R&B sizzle perfected through the cool currents of his Uncut Gems score collaborator Oneohtrix Point Never and the always-slick singles synthesis of Max Martin’s hand. Grammys don’t mean a thing, but in the pop universe, it's weird when one of its biggest names can't get a nom at the top of their game.

#features #arca #charli xcx #dua lipa #fontaines d.c.#infant island #loma #peel dream magazine #porridge radio #r.a.p. ferreira #samia #sault #the weeknd

5 notes · View notes

duhragonball · 4 years

Text

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (124/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation. This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

[15 June, 233 Before Age. Planet Yars.]

The Jindan Cult's war against the Federation was essentially a coordinated series of raids. Small groups of Saiyan cultists would attempt to invade a planet, usually along the Federation's frontier, and the defenders would be forced to respond before they could entrench themselves. The Saiyan Free Company, led by Princess Seltiss, could be counted on to handle one or two Jindan cultists, and the Federation fleet could intercept the cult's ships and destroy them before their crews could bring their powers to bear. But when six or more of the cultists landed on a planet together, it was a job for Luffa. Only the Super Saiyan had the power to cope with so many of the alchemically-enhanced warriors. And even then, they managed to wear her down, battle by battle, to the point where she needed time to recover.

During Luffa's convalescence, the cult managed to conquer Yars and without Luffa available to stop them, they went to work on fortifying the planet to serve as a base of operations. All the Federation and its allies could do was to intercept any Jindan reinforcements before they could reach the occupied planet.

But the cult had other ways to strengthen its position. Later, Yartian witnesses would tell stories of a gruesome ritual they performed, where one of their priestesses vomited red liquid onto the ground, and then an enormous earthen figure emerged from below. Then they worshiped this walking idol with cheers, songs, and sacrifices. The Federation's defenders knew this creature was an avatar of the cult's leader, Trismegistus, also known as the Saiyan King Rehval III. These avatars were immensely powerful, and now that the occupiers had one of them on the planet, there would be no way of removing them without Luffa's help.

"I would have thought she'd have been here by now," the rock-Rehval said. He was seated upon a giant stone throne that his followers had built for him in what used to be the planet's capital city. "Fifteen of my followers would be tempting enough bait by themselves, but I was sure she'd jump at the chance to destroy another one of my bodies."

One of his flock stood on the armrest of his stone chair. His job was officially to oversee construction projects in the area and to see to his master's needs, but the rock creature needed nothing, as the real Rehval was controlling it from many light years away. He was mostly there to let the avatar know when it was time to fight.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Thrice Blessed One," the man said.

"Well, it can't be helped," Rehval said with a mighty shrug. "I'll just go dormant for a while and check in again. It's not like she can get close to the planet without one of you sensing her approach or detecting her ship."

And so the great stone form of Rehval grew still. And just as the attendant turned to consider his other duties, he was decapitated by a beam of red light. Had he survived this, or if his master had not withdrawn his presence from the earthen figure, one of them might have recognized this as Luffa's signature technique, the Vengeance Cannon. Instead, his headless body tumbled to the idol's feet, while the idol itself remained motionless. Luffa approached it a few seconds later, and waited patiently for the other fourteen cultists to sense her power and find her. Civilian witnesses would describe the yellow glow of her hair and tail, and a sense of unease. Most Federation citizens appreciated Luffa as a benevolent protector, but many had seconds thoughts after seeing her in action. The news media tended to edit footage of her battles for the sake of decorum, but those who saw her fight in person had no such filter.

"You fools make it so easy," she gloated when they finally arrived. "You thought I'd rush in on a battleship, full power, give you plenty of warning. It never occurred to you that I'd do it all sneaky-like, did it? Suppress my power, coast my way into the system, reconnoiter for a few days."

"We still should have detected your ship!" one of the cultists protested. They all surrounded her as she floated above their earthen idol, daring them to chase her away from it.

Luffa laughed. "You call yourselves Saiyans?" she scoffed. "You must have forgotten everything you know about warfare when you went for this magical nonsense. You took this planet, sure, but you're still behind enemy lines. All the defense systems are enemy tech, aren't they? Including the early-warning outpost on the twelfth planet in this system. You didn't think those guys were much of a threat, but they've been scrambling your sensors since before I got here. So if you didn't detect my ship, blame those guys. I'm surprised your 'all-knowing' leader didn't mention it to you earlier."

"You're still outmatched, infidel!" one of the cultists cried as she brandished her spear at Luffa. "Even if you could defeat all of us, we only have to touch Trismegistus' form to summon him back to aid us!"

"Yeah," Luffa said. "I'm counting on it. Should make things really interesting. How long would it take for him to get here? A minute? Two minutes? And how many of you will be alive to help him once he's ready? And that's assuming you can get past me long enough to touch this thing. So many variables. I'm getting excited just thinking about it."

Without warning, she suddenly pounced onto one of the Jindan Saiyans and wrapped her legs around his before any of them could react. As she locked in the hold, he cried out in agony.

None of then had expected her to do this. It was folly to use a jointlock on a single opponent during a battle with so many enemies. And yet Luffa had done it anyway, leaving herself wide open for an attack. Only the attack never came, because her foes were too confused to seize their chance.

When one of them finally did react, he got as far as crying "For the Glory of Trismegistus!" before Luffa flew into the air to dodge his blast. Then she slammed into him, dragging her captive behind her as she continued to torture him with her hold.

"She's mad!" one of the Saiyans said in a panicked voice.

Luffa's raucous laughter did little to dissuade them from this opinion. She flew around her enemies like a hornet weaving through a group of frightened picnickers. When they finally gained the sense to try to intercept her and box her in, she used her arms to fire back on them. A Saiyan tried to cone up from behind her, but she flipped around as he approached, and swung her captive into him like a club.

His now constant wailing had taken a severe toll on their morale. Only a short while ago, they had been confident about their mission, but now, they all felt they were in a battle for survival, and they were losing. None of them dared to go for the earthen giant below. As powerful as the avatar could be, they each feared that Luffa would pick them off unless they all fought together.

As Luffa dodged their attacks, one of them stood still, struggling to prepare an energy technique. A ball of light coalesced above his right hand, and he growled and gritted his teeth as he willed it into existence. When the moment was right, he would unleash the power, and then--!

Before he could finish, a plasma bolt struck him on the side of his head, and he collapsed. He was dead before he hit the ground. Six hundred yards away, Zatte smiled as she looked at his dead body in the scope of her rifle, then shifted her aim to pick out a new target.

On the battlefield, the Jindan Saiyans saw one of their own fall, and believed it was Luffa's doing. They began to fear that her attacks could come without warning, and their panic forced them to go on the defensive. Luffa had killed the man she had caught in her leglock, and now she was seeking out a fresh victim. No one wanted to volunteer. In this way, the Jindan Saiyans gave up their sole advantage over Luffa. Their numbers could only overwhelm her if they attacked her together. Now, as thy scattered and kept their distance, they were unable to coordinate anything. One of them went for the avatar on the throne. Luffa fired a ki blast that got there first, reducing Rehval's graven image into a cloud of dust.

Luffa grabbed a Saiyan woman and broke her neck with a single kick. Another Jindan Saiyan tried to fight back, but he was cut down by Zatte's sniper fire before he could act. Luffa spared a backward glance to where the plasma bolt had come from, but quickly turned around in time to block an elbow strike and reverse it into a hammerlock. She used the man as a shield for a moment, then fired a ki blast through his torso, killing him and one of his comrades in the same shot.

That left just six of the original fifteen. With the power of Jindan running through their veins, six Saiyans were more than a match for nearly any force in the galaxy. Against Luffa, six were nothing at all. Under different circumstances, Luffa might have toyed with them, but she felt that they had held this planet long enough, and deemed that their occupation would not last a moment longer than necessary.

Civilian witnesses would later speak of the brutal efficiency of those final moments of the battle, but also that Luffa was laughing with joy the entire time.

*******

[15 June, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

The Federation had managed to thwart or repel every Jindan invasion into their territory. The casualty rate on the cultist's side was 100%. They continued to send warriors anyway. The prevailing attitude among the Federation's military leaders was that if they could easily win this war, if only they could take the fight to the enemy. But the cultists' home base was its most carefully guarded secret. Here, on Nagaoka, if King Rehval knew or cared that Yars had been liberated, his fifteen warriors slaughtered, and his earthen idol destroyed, he did not show it. Instead, he spent his day poring over scrolls he had gathered over the years, choosing which would offer the best education for his new student.

For her part, Treekul had no interest in learning anything from him. She had only come to this planet because three Saiyans wanted to find the Jindan Cult, and she had been intrigued enough by the opportunity to join their quest. She was an archaeologist, one specializing in ancient alchemical texts and artifacts. She joined the Saiyans for the challenge, and because she knew that Saiyans tended to find a handsome profit whenever they wanted to do something. But the Jindan Cult was no ancient puzzle to be excavated and studied. There was no payday at the end of their search. Instead they were stolen away to a secret lair. Her Saiyan partners had been indoctrinated into the cult, while their leader, Rehval, or "Trismegistus" as they called him, decided to make her his apprentice in the alchemical arts.

It could have been much worse, she told herself. The cult only accepted Saiyans, so it stood to reason that an alien like herself would have been executed on the spot. Her only advantage in this predicament was that Rehval seemed to enjoy keeping her around. He often told her that he found her attractive, but he also seemed impressed with her alchemical knowledge, and maybe he found it refreshing to have someone to talk to who wasn't brainwashed into worshiping the ground he walked on.

And so, her best chance of escape lay in exploiting his fancy. He made her a priestess in his mad religion, and commanded her to wear a sort of dress made of torn robes, and so she did. He wanted to teach her his secrets, and so she played the eager student. He flirted with her constantly, and she did everything she could to hide her disgust. Because she knew that if she did this long enough, he would eventually come to trust her, and that would be when her opportunity would present itself.

That was her greatest strength on a planet full of mighty Saiyans. They all spoke highly of their pride, but Treekul didn't have much use for it herself. "Pride" was just another word for "stubborn" in her book, and she knew far too many stubborn, brittle people who broke because they refused to bend. A little flexibility went a long way. For one thing, stubborn, brittle people had a nasty habit of mistaking compromise with surrender, which made them careless. She didn't like wearing red rags, or being forbidden to cut her own hair, or having to listen to Rehval's lectures, but she could tolerate it if she had to, and Rehval would assume she had already submitted to his will.

As she sat in the underground cavern that served as his laboratory, he went on and on about his discoveries and achievements. She knew the type well. He wanted a woman to hang on his every word, to nod in fascination, and tell him how brilliant he was.

"What is Jindan?" he asked aloud. "The word 'jindan' is easily defined. It's simply another name for mercuric sulfide, commonly known as the mineral cinnabar, or the pigment vermilion. Common chemists would say that it's a toxic substance, and they're... mainly correct. Most carbon-based life forms are poisoned by mercury salts. However, alchemical thought sees beyond the mere physical nature of mercuric sulfide, and explores the deeper truth that the salt represents.

"In alchemy, the element mercury is considered an important symbol. Unlike most metals, it is liquid at room temperature. It flows like molten silver, which is how it came to be known as "quicksilver". It is rather slow to react with most chemical reagents, although it has a number of interesting interactions with other metals. Gold is soluble in mercury, which made it very useful for the ancient mining industries of many planets. With enough heat, a gold/mercury amalgam can be separated. The mercury boils away, leaving purified gold behind. Mercury also dissolves aluminum. It almost seems to devour these metals, which may have been what has fascinated ancient alchemists since the dawn of time.

"Then there's cinnabar. The deep scarlet color of mercuric sulfide is also of great importance to alchemical philosophy. Red, the color of blood, the color of fire. The color of change and life itself. The earliest practitioners of alchemy knew that it held the secret of the great mystery, the mystery that governed all changes in nature. Copper and tin could be refined from mineral ores. Nature provides the minerals, but the metals must be taken through artificial means. The process must be sped up to a time scale that is practical for mortals. That is the power of alchemy. To accelerate or manipulate the natural processes. Mercuric sulfide represents that power in its most basic form. Mix metal mercury with hydrogen sulfide, and they form red mercuric sulfide quite readily. Distill the mercuric sulfide, and the elements can be separated, and the mercury recovered once more. Just like with copper and tin and iron, only mercury can be refined much more easily."

Treekul had heard much of this before, as a college freshman. The professor who taught that course only offered one class every other semester, and only on two days a week in the middle of the day, which had been extremely inconvenient to her schedule. What struck her was how passionate Rehval was about it, as though he wanted to make love to a mercury atom. She had to suppress the urge to laugh at that image.

"The dream of alchemy," he said, finally coming to the point, "is to reduce all natural processes to the same simplicity of refining mercury from cinnabar."

That got Treekul's attention. Simplicity. The core tenet of alchemy was that every process was a natural reaction that could be sped up, slowed down, or even reversed. It was just a matter of knowing how, of discovering the "cheat codes" that made such miracles possible. Know the right shortcuts, and one could do the impossible.

Treekul began to wonder if there was an alchemical shortcut for escaping a Saiyan cult.

"Let us consider the other component of cinnabar, which is sulfur," Rehval continued. "It is native to fire, earth, air, and water. Volcanoes spew fire and air and geysers spew water, all rich in sulfur, which eventually deposits as a waxy yellow material resembling earth. From within the earth, sulfur is born, and to earth again it returns. Molten sulfur turns blood red, hinting at its ties to cinnabar. When sulfur is set aflame, it produces a blue color. Colloidal sulfur is white. The colors illustrate sulfur's connection to the sun. It is the principle of the sun.

"Likewise, mercury is the principle of the moon. Take a bottle of mercury and spill it across a surface. It scatters into droplets, both large and small, like the many moons of different sizes throughout the countless worlds of the universe. These droplets can be bound to sulfur, just as the moons of the universe are bound to their respective suns. However, the moons are defined by their connection with the planets they orbit. Just as the planets exist as the intermediaries of the suns and moons, so does life exist as an interface between the Principles of Mercury and Sulfur. Those with wisdom can recognize this sacred relationship, and thus study the nature of cinnabar, or jindan, in the search for the power over life. For what is life but a natural process, no different from the refining of metal from ore, or the burning of wood into smoke and ash? By manipulating the Principles of Mercury and Sulfur, an elixir can be prepared, one that reacts with the reagents of life itself, accelerating some processes, while slowing others. The ideal elixir would grant a being immortality, but the wise know that this is not a thing to be pursued for material gain, or as an escape from death. No, the elixir of life is an end unto itself. Discover that ultimate secret, and all other secrets, the Whole of the Great Mystery, will be laid bare. What is immortality, when weighed against that perfect and total knowledge?

"Though sulfur represents an equal portion of Jindan, we must consider mercury to be the superior portion. Mercury has the greater density, and its atoms are larger and more massive than those of sulfur. Every planet has a sun, but only some are blessed with the moonlight, of which mercury is a symbol. For this reason, the alchemical notation for mercury is depicted as an arc atop a ring atop a cross. The arc is the crescent moon, the ring is the sun, an the cross is the life on the planet sustained by them both. The cross represents the veins that carry blood through the body, sustaining life with the same color as jindan. Mercury is the moon, placed above the sun, which is Sulfur, placed above the planets, which are Life.

He paused here to write the symbol on a handheld electronic tablet: "☿". It was the only modern technology Treekul recognized in this laboratory. Everything else looked either archaic or unfamiliar, or both. She had seen the symbol before, of course, and the one for sulfur as well, which was a triangle atop a cross. But something about Rehval's fervor in describing it made her uneasy. To her it was a piece of trivia, but it was clearly something deep and meaningful to him.

"All of this," Rehval said, "Is a very elaborate way of saying that Jindan, my Jindan, is a way of harnessing planetary energy as a supplement to ones own ki. Cinnabar represents the connection between the Principles and living beings, but it's also just a mineral you dig up from the ground. Ancient scholars would drink potions of cinnabar and die, or go mad from mercury poisoning, because they took the connection too literally, too directly. The truth is more sublime, more complex.

"You see, there are three types of ki in the universe. The ki of living things is what makes the Saiyan race mighty. We Saiyans have more of this energy than most beings, which makes us stronger, better. Then there's the ki of the heavens. The sun and the moon. The stars themselves possess a ki which is inaccessible to us. Oh, the moonlight allows Saiyans to transform into giant apes, but the moonlight is only a catalyst for releasing latent ki we already possess. That's why I cut off my tail a long time ago, because I learned to harness that latent power without transforming. It's why I ask my followers to do the same. We don't need the moon. We don't need tails.

He pointed at the cavern floor. "What we need is the third ki, which is found in the ground beneath our feet. This is the interface where life and the heavens meet. Mercuric sulfide. The moon and the sun combine to form a mineral, which resembles lifeblood but can kill the uninitiated. My Jindan is the ki equivalent of that elixir. My technique is to draw power from within a planet. Done properly, it can magnify your strength many times over. But if the power is harnessed recklessly, it can destroy the user completely. Do you understand, Treekul?"

"Not entirely, but I get the general idea, I think. How'd you figure all of this out?" she asked.

"Alchemy has long been one of my passions," he said. "I wasn't blessed with great ki like other members of my family, and I sought an explanation for that injustice. Alchemy teaches us that the universe is governed by rules, but those rules can be manipulated by those who know how. Thus I was able to become as strong as I wished, as powerful as I wished to become. I turned lead into gold by transforming my base self into the golden King of the Saiyans. Soon to become King of the Universe. There remains only one obstacle, one stubborn impurity to be purged."

"Luffa," Treekul said.

"I've seen enough divinations to know that our destinies are intertwined, hers and mine. She is the Sun, bright and yellow and powerful. I am the Moon, lurking in the shadows, sublime and contemplative. The key is that our genders don't line up to that analogy. In alchemical thought, the Sun-Sulfur Principle is male, while the Moon-Mercury Principle is considered female."

"Cool, but what's that got to do with it?" she asked.

"It means that I must join with her, to complete the intermingling of our essences," Rehval said. "Well, that sounds a bit esoteric, doesn't it? The simpler explanation is that I need her, or some part of her, to complete my legacy. If she won't join me, then I'll have to take from her what I need. The Golden King must have the Super Saiyan power along with everything else. As a Saiyan myself, it stands to reason that if I defeat the Super Saiyan, that would mean I become the Super Saiyan."

"Wait, you think killing her would suddenly cause you to absorb her transformation into yourself?" Treekul asked.

He chuckled at that suggestion. "No, not really, though it is an interesting possibility. Perhaps the Super Saiyan only emerges once every thousand years because there must be one and only one. If the one that emerges were to die, would the power automatically go to another? Another natural process in the universe, one that I can study and master, but only when Luffa has been neutralized once and for all. I don't need to become a Super Saiyan literally, Treekul. Not when I can learn what the power is and how it works. If I find a way to make Super Saiyans at will, then I would be more powerful than any Super Saiyan before or after. That's the power I want. If my descendants can benefit from it, then the Saiyan race will have surely triumphed over all."

Treekul wasn't sure what to say. "You're a hell of a guy, King Rehval," was all she could manage.

"Thank you, my dear," he said. "And I think you'll make an excellent courtesan. It'll be nice to have someone to discuss spagyric theory with."

She made an audible gulp.

*******

[15 June, 233 Before Age. Planet Yars.]

Luffa's star-yacht, the Emerald Eye, had fifty cabins, most of which rarely ever saw use since Luffa took ownership of the vessel. She had occasionally used the extra living space for guests, though the only time it had approached the maximum capacity was when she had hosted strategic conferences between the Wist-Extraliga Wars. Among the many aliens on board during that time, there was once a Solarian monk who had left a letter on the bed during his stay. He had sensed great turmoil in Luffa's spirit, even by the standard of most warriors he had encountered, and his intention was that she would discover the letter at some later date, and perhaps find a measure of comfort in the words he had written. Also on the bed were a pair of the monk's headphones, which had no special significance. He had left those behind purely by accident.

When Luffa finally entered the cabin, she only noticed the letter and headphones long enough to sweep them aside as she laid her wife on the bed. The monk's letter fell to the floor, where it would never be seen again. They were too preoccupied with each other to worry about it.

"You... never... should have... got...gotten... so close to the....mmph... battlefield," Luffa said as she started pulling off whatever articles of clothing she could manage. She had some trouble speaking, as Zatte kept kissing her between each word.

"You're right," Zatte said. "But you were there, so I went in anyway."

"I almost didn't make it," Luffa whispered into her ear. "One of them was all set to blast half the city. The half you were in. He would have killed you--"

"But he hesitated," Zatte replied. She grabbed the front of Luffa's sleeveless shirt and pulled on it until it ripped apart. "They always hesitate, because they don't know who I am or what I'm doing there. More than enough time for my golden girl to come to my rescue."

"I was fighting twelve of them," Luffa panted.

"Eleven, after the one I shot," Zatte said. "Ten, if one of them managed to run off looking for the shooter. And they never find me until I want to be found."

"That's still too close, young lady," Luffa said. "You took a big gamble..."

"It felt like it," Zatte said. "But I wasn't really in any danger. Or are you saying those twelve Saiyans were too much for you?"

"You... ah!... you want the truth?" Luffa asked.

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't," Zatte asked.

She inhaled sharply and gripped Zatte's shoulders tightly. "I have no idea," she said.

"Say that again," Zatte said.

"I don't know for sure if I could have beaten all twelve of them or not," Luffa said, an octave higher than she usually spoke. "Not if one of them managed to bring that rock creature back to life. Dammit, your hair smells amazing."

"Thanks, but don't... wow... don't change the subject."

"I thought I was in a pinch," Luffa said. Her voice began to tremble as she went on. "I was actually... glad when you shot one of those guys... but then I wasn't sure I could hold them off and help you at the same time."

"But you did," Zatte said. "You won, just like always."

"Thanks to you," Luffa said. "Without your courage I... I..."

For some time after that, they each found they had little else to say, so they used their bodies instead. There was a great deal of theatrics to their intimacy. Luffa alternated between her transformed and normal states depending on the mood. Occasionally, Zatte would become invisible, or alter her own body temperature using her ability to manipulate energy, mostly for the novelty of it. Telepathic communion had proven corrosive to their relationship, though Luffa had recently discovered a way to work around that. Instead of opening their minds to one another completely, she could establish a connection very briefly, allowing only a very small exchange of their thoughts. Mostly these mental quanta were too small and random to be of any meaning. It was for fun, more than anything else. A way for each of them to hear the other's voice in her head, even if it was gibberish like "laundry", "perpendicular", "beloved", or "leftovers".

There was no clock in the room, and neither of them had any interest in asking the computer to tell them the time. The battle of Yars was won, and until there was any word on another attack, there was nothing to do but wait. At some point, Zatte stood by the cabin window and admired the view of the planet's dayside.

"Was this how you thought it would be?" she asked Luffa without looking away from the window.

"What do you mean?" Luffa asked.

"I mean, was this how you wanted your life to turn out?" Zatte asked.

"Well, the last couple of hours have gone great," Luffa said with a satisfied smile.

"I mean, the whole thing, dummy," Zatte said. "When I was a kid, this was pretty much how I thought it would be. I had this old book my uncle gave me before he died. It was all about space battles and all the characters in the illustrations weren't really dressed for it. There was this one picture of a princess staring out a window on a ship. I guess that's why I'm standing here right now."

"Yeah, but you don't really like to fight," Luffa said.

Zatte nodded. "I guess it's not exactly what I had in mind, but most of it worked out for me. You and me, together, roaming the stars in our ship." She turned from the window, and gestured to the ocular implant where her right eye used to be. "I guess I pictured myself having two eyes and a lot fewer scars, but I think it's worth it. I may not like to fight the way you do, but I take a lot of satisfaction in the results. I have a holy cause. Someone to belong to. That's worth a few injuries, I think."

She sat down on the bed and patted Luffa's shoulder. "So was this anything like what you expected?" Zatte asked.

"I don't want this to come out the wrong way," Luffa said. "But when I was a kid, I figured you'd be a Saiyan man, and I'd have six or seven brats underfoot."

"Oh, right," Zatte said. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked--"

"No, it's all right, Zattie," Luffa said. "It's just... I had no idea what I'd become. I still don't know what I am. I wasn't kidding before when I said I didn't know if I could beat those Saiyans. It was like, one minute I wasn't strong enough to take them, and the next minute I was. Maybe knowing you might be in trouble was what did it. It pushed me over the edge, like when I first transformed."

"That's wonderful," Zatte said. "If I helped you get stronger, then I'm honored..."

"Before, I would have died before accepting help from anyone in a fight," Luffa went on. "Now... well it doesn't bother me as much. I just sort of shrug and keep going. I've fought battles and won victories that would keep most Saiyans satisfied for a lifetime. But I see all the people who suffer on the sidelines, and that bugs me more than I thought it would."

"You're helping those people," Zatte said. "You should take pride in that."

"Maybe. It's just hard for me to say it's worth it, when I don't really know what 'it' is. Seems like it keeps changing on me. But one thing I do know..."

She took Zatte's hand and drew her closer. "There's a lot I'm not sure about, but hearing you say this is how you hoped it would be... well, that puts my mind at ease. People tell me I'm doing the right thing, and it's hard for me to know if that's true, but at least they're saying it. You guys can't all be wrong."

Zatte lay down beside her and put her head on her shoulder. "You'll see," she said. "One day, you'll understand what you've become. Until then, well, it's kind of cool that you don't get it, but you keep plugging away at it anyway."

*******

[15 June, 233 Before Age. Nagaoka.]

The acolytes waited on her hand and foot, as they always did. Rehval had arranged for Treekul to be a priestess in the cult, which granted her considerable freedom and privilege. Rank-and-file cultists had almost every aspect of their lives micromanaged. Their diet, exercise, sleep patterns, even their sex lives were strictly regulated by Rehval's priests. In turn, the priesthood answered to Rehval, though she had found that they were so thoroughly indoctrinated that they needed little direct guidance from him. Treekul was the only exception. She was mostly exempt from priestly duties, which was fortunate, since she had little understanding of what those duties were. Even so, the cultists treated her with the utmost devotion, if only out of respect for the office.

Rehval had multiple reasons for arranging this. First, it kept his followers off-balance. They had been taught to view outsiders as inferior or even wicked, and yet he had allowed an alien in their midst and given her a place of honor. Contradiction was one of many tools he used to control them all. Second, it suited his ego to work his "apprentice and/or consort" into his private religious order. Third, it kept Treekul off-balance. She was a prisoner here, and the "apprenticeship" made her feel more like a slave than a student. And yet, when she was dismissed from her lessons, she was treated like a queen, and free to do whatever she liked... except leave.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, mistress?" one of her attendants asked. The anxiety in his voice was depressingly typical for this place. It was the sound of a man who was constantly terrified of displeasing his superiors. Like all of the Saiyans here, he had come seeking power, only to find that it would be taken away if he displeased his benefactor.

Treekul finished her meal--a bland stew made with artificial proteins-- and shook her head. "Not unless you know where I can get a haircut," she said. "I could use my ki for that," the other Saiyan volunteered. He raised his hand and the tips of his fingers glowed with blue light.

"S-so could I!" the other man quickly added. Treekul was too tired to look at him, but she could tell from his voice that he was worried that he hadn't thought of the idea himself.

"I may have to take you up on that," Treekul said, "but I'd much rather do it myself. There's something pleasant about using a hair trimmer, you know? Too bad I don't have it..."

She was about to mention that her hair trimmer had been confiscated when she was brought to the planet, but then Treekul had an idea. "I mean... it's too bad that it broke down on me the other day," she said. "I haven't slept well since it stopped working."

She ran her hand over the shallow field of green hair on her scalp. "It relaxes me, is all. I know it's not that long, but there's a certain length where it's just right. Too short, and it's rough, like sandpaper. Too long, and it feels too soft. So I trim it constantly, or I used to, anyway."

"Perhaps the technicians could fix it," one of the Saiyan men suggested.

"Technicians?" Treekul asked. "Oh, I'm sure they're much too busy maintaining Trismegistus's more important equipment. It'd be selfish of me to impose."

"Not at all," he said. "I know one of the technicians, and she would be honored to serve you, mistress. She's my... well, she used to be my wife."

Treekul tried not to react to the barely-repressed emotion in his voice. Rehval had very strange notions about breeding practices. She wasn't entirely sure how he ran things as King of the Saiyans, but as Trismegistus, he dissolved all family ties and commanded his followers to participate in communal sex rituals. And yet, Treekul had never seen any children or pregnant women on this planet. Rehval seemed to want a new generation of Saiyans, but she had no idea where he was keeping them. Maybe he had a second underground facility for that.

"I'd like to meet her," Treekul said. "You know, just to see some of Trismegistus' followers working for his greater glory. Yeah, that kind of thing."

What Treekul really wanted was to get as much sleep as she could before reporting to Rehval for another lesson. But this was too good an opportunity to pass up. It had taken days for her to learn enough about the cult's inner workings to confirm that spaceships were routinely moving to and from whatever planet this was. Ships required regular maintenance, and if Treekul could find the maintenance crews, she could find a docking bay, or perhaps a flight schedule or cargo manifest. Even if all she found was a star chart to tell her where in the universe she was, Treekul believed it was worth losing a few more hours of sleep.

"At once!" he blurted out. Then the other Saiyan nudged him with his elbow, and he thought better of it. "Er, I mean... after we've finished our duty shift, that is," he said.

"With your permission," the other man offered, "we could take the device to her and bring it back once it's repaired."

"Nah, that's all right," Treekul said. "I'd really like to meet her in person, and I'm in no big hurry. We can work something out later."

They exchanged awkward pleasantries, the two men apologizing for any inconvenience, and she halfheartedly assuring them that she wasn't displeased with their work. Then she withdrew to her quarters, a space roughly the size of a studio apartment that had been hewn out of solid rock.

It wasn't a total loss, she thought to herself as she lay in her bed. At least she had learned that the technicians weren't off-limits to her. She just had to wait a little longer before seeing them. And once she knew where to go, she could return whenever she pleased

And there were other possibilities. She had hoped Endive might help her once she learned the truth about Trismegistus being Rehval, but so far nothing had come of that. If anything, her devotion to the man seemed to be even stronger for some reason. But maybe Endive just needed time to let the truth sink in. And there was still Lesseri, and Guwar, although she hardly ever saw him anymore.

And there was always the chance that Rehval's enemies might somehow track him down and invade the planet. Treekul wasn't sure she would survive a battle like that, but at least it was one more chance. She was building quite a collection of chances. One of them was bound to pan out.

An hour later, she fell asleep, in spite of the uncomfortable length of her hair.

NEXT: Fytpall.

#dragon ball #fanfiction #super saiyan #lssjluffafic #luffa #zatte #trismegistus #treekul #nagaoka #yars

4 notes · View notes