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critical-rollmops · 6 years

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Just some post C2e26 vent fiction

Under the cut, because spoilers.

Reaching the innermost chambers of the Iron Shepherds’ hideout, Caleb realized he was alone. Not in the metaphorical sense, but the rest of the Nein were currently preoccupied with the gaggle of hired bodies Lorenzo threw at them as his last line of the defense. Which, in Caleb’s mind, incidentally underlined how Lorenzo himself was alone as well. Allowing himself to slip into memory for a split-second, Caleb thought about how much quieter than usual Beauregard was in the past few weeks, her mind focussed on but a single task: Bringing down each and everyone of Lorenzo’s cronies. Calling in favors borne from her own sordid past dealings, collecting information, and spinning a web of intrigue and deceit that was, to an analytical mind, quite magnificent to behold. And with a regularity that the Zemnian in him couldn’t help but admire, all three of Lorenzo’s still-living cohorts fell victim to quick yet ignoble ends.

And not much later, they found the safehouse their leader had retreated to and fortified with what felt like half the population of Shady Creek Run’s worth of mercenaries. While the ensuing battle was not an easy one, the Nein, now reunited with their stolen friends fought their way through them with a cold fury that seemed to unsettle those simple hired thugs.

But as they were fighting through an underground corridor, Caleb was seemingly the only one who noticed the tattooed, scarred head flashing through an adjacent corridor. Only quietly mentioning his intend to pursue, for reasons he still does not quite understand, he went after what he assumed to be their target immediately.

Finally catching up in what seemed to be a larger chamber connecting to several mineshafts, Lorenzo noticed his pursuer and turned to face him, wicked glaive in hand. “Well, well, well. Just… couldn’t leave things well enough alone, couldya? See, when you don’t keep the necessary professional distance in your affairs, you might end up doing something really stupid. Like you did just now.”

Lorenzo snapped his fingers, and immediately Caleb noticed a flash and a thunderous noise erupt from one of the mineshafts, closely followed by a sharp pain and a trickle of blood soaking into the left shoulder of his tattered coat. Shortly after that, two trios of thugs wielding gunpowder rifles emerged from the shafts and flanked the slaver.

“Unlike you, I appreciate the timely appearance of some armed backup. Now, you got anything to say for yourself, you naughty boy?”

His face completely devoid of expression, seemingly not even acknowledging the grazing wound on his shoulder, Caleb gazed upon his mark. “My name is Caleb Widogast. You killed my friend. Prepare to die.”

Almost baffled by the audacious response, Lorenzo could not help but chuckle.

“Mhm, boldly stated. Tell me, how do you figure that’s gonna happen, eh?” For the faintest moment, Caleb allowed himself the luxury of a smirk.

“Unlike you, I appreciate a cluster of targets.“ And then he snapped his fingers of his right hand, tightly clenching the tiny ball of foul-smelling material dissipating in his left one.

Having barely the time to even register the fireball sailing past them, Lorenzo and his thugs felt the sudden rush of heat behind them before being engulfed in a wave of flames.

Being close enough to feel the erupting heat on his exposed skin and singeing his hair, Caleb gazed upon the impact of his spell. Immediately his mind flashed back to the images of that fateful day at his parents’ house. And yet, something quickly interposed itself between the haunting memories: the ever-smiling, cocky face of Mollymauk. Holding onto this image like a lifeline, Caleb tore his attention back to the task at hand, noticing the smoldering form of Lorenzo rise from the inferno, the merriment completely wiped from his scorched face.

“Alright… I’ll give you that one. Gotta admit, just blowing up a cave like that is pretty damn ballsy. But I do not appreciate you lot continuing to interrupt my operations, so I’ll just have to make another example.” Steadying himself with his glaive, took a breath in preparation to unleash a cone of cold against his opponent.

“My name is Caleb Widogast. You killed my friend. Prepare to die.” Snapping his fingers again, scattering a piece of phosphorous as he does so, a circular wall of fire erupted around Lorenzo, encircling him in a wreath of flames.

Unseen by the wizard, Lorenzo’s form began to shift as the already singed and burned leather straps on his body snapped, powerless against the expanding form of the giant. “A nutty one, just great. I’ll show you how usually deal with rabid anim-” As he emerged from the wall of fire, ignoring the flames lapping hungrily across his skin, he was pushed back almost immediately by eight tiny meteors slamming into him in quick succession, brutally burning more scorch marks into his torso and forcing him back into the awaiting flames.

“My name is Caleb Widogast. You killed my friend. Prepare to die.” Tugging on the Glove of Blasting, just as much to keep his composure in the inferno of his own creation as much as to prepare his next attack, he launched a trio of scorching rays straight ahead, taking the corresponding trio of pained grunts accompanied by the sizzling of flesh as confirmation that he hit his mark.

Slowly catching his breath in the hot air, Lorenzo knelt down on one leg, putting his free hand on the ground.

“Getting real fuckin’ tired... of you sayin’ that… how ‘bout you chill?” With all his gathered strength, he pushed his cone of cold through the circle of flame ahead of him. Despite having taken some distance from the inferno, Caleb was caught by the wave of frost pushing through it, the sudden shift in temperature causing him to lose concentration on keeping the wall of flame erect. Feeling the stinging pain on his left side now covered in rime, he muttered a quick incantation and moved to the side. As he watched the sheet of flame in the center of the chamber falter, a wave of darkness immediately erupted from behind it, stopping halfway towards him.

“Looking for something? Someone? Heh… can’t burn what you can’t see!” Jumping out from the wafting, impenetrable shadow, the severely burned but still massive form of Lorenzo lunged at Caleb, glaive raised for a downward swing. As he brought it down towards the wizard, it cleaved right through him and impacting the rough stone floor with a jarring clang.

“My name is Caleb Widogast.” A man, standing behind and looking just like the dissipating shape he so easily cleaved, said.

“You killed my friend.” Another man, identical in form to the first one but standing further away to the right, said.

“Prepare to die.” Yet another identical man, this time somewhere back to his left, finished. And then all was white as another fireball impacted just to the right of him.

Lorenzo wasn’t entirely sure when the world stopped being just heat and white. As he caught his bearings, he realized that his depth perception was off, and so was the right side of his field of vision. Feeling up the right side of his face, what he found was crusted, burnt flesh and a warm liquid leaking from his right eye socket. Forcing himself through the pain covering most of the smoldering right side of his body, he got up on one knee, scanning the vicinity for his glaive. However, the first sight that greeted him was that of a human man, still clad in his dirty, rime-covered rags, standing barely ten feet in front of him. Coughing from smoke and residual heat, he grinned.

“Think this is done? Think that you won? I can come back from just about anything you throw at me.... and if you run now, all you’ll do is give me a breather, so that I may finish you and the rest of your meddlesome friends all fresh and fancy.” As if to underline his point, flakes of charred skin crumbled off of Lorenzo’s body, the grey-pink strands of flesh and muscle below already knitting together. “This is far from ov-” Before he could finish his sentence, another snap from Caleb sounded, engulfing Lorenzo in a sphere of consuming flames.

“You are right about one thing. This is far from over, du Stück Scheiße.” He proceeded to hurl a series of firebolts into the sphere, each one eliciting increasingly pained shouts from Lorenzo.

After about a minute of time later the flaming sphere dissipated, revealing a severely burnt but still breathing Oni.

“You… you’re good, heh… think you got… got it in you… to finish this-” His every attempt to breathe in accompanied by pain, Lorenzo’s ragged voice descended into dry coughs, unable to speak further for the moment. Caleb, meanwhile, tightly gripped his gloved right hand with the left one, knuckles clearly visible.

“I would love nothing more than to burn your broken, blasted carcass until it is but ashes.” Hearing footsteps approach from behind, Caleb took a few steps backwards. “But ultimately, I think the final blow is not mine to make.” From behind Caleb, Lorenzo could make out six figures entering the chamber, lining up next to his tormentor one by one.

The blue tiefling, one of the ones they snatched. Looking at him in anger, yet also with the faintest note of pity in her eyes.

The half-breed, another snatched one. Looking at him almost expressionless, his balefully yellow eyes beheld a depth that threatened to drown him were he to gaze into them for too long.

The goblin, no longer wearing that creepy porcelain mask. Who couldn’t decide between glaring daggers at him and look up worryingly at the damnable wizard.

The wizard himself, who seemed to concentrate more on keeping himself from shaking rather than directing his almost empty eyes at him.

The cobalt monk bitch, who boasted about taking his crew from him. Clinging to her staff, he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was to keep herself steady or to keeping herself from pounding him into dust with her bare hands right then and there. Her hateful stare certainly leaned towards the latter.

The stout form of Keg, to his surprise. Looking down on him with trepidation barely hidden behind her baleful gaze.

He couldn’t help to take the slightest degree of amusement from her presence, chuckling despite the obvious pain it caused him.

“K-Keg… coming to fin… finish the job… respect. You gonna keep me wait-” “No.” Spoke two voices in not-quite-unison.

One last person came forward, passing the others arrayed in front of him.

The aasimar woman, the last one of those snatched. Her eyes replaced by orbs of black, her hair tainted black to the tips, trailing skeletal wings behind her. Surrounded by a fog of darkness, oddly intermixed with wisps lavender. In her hands, a long, ornate greatsword, surrounded by a dim lavender glow. Choosing to forego any words in this moment, she simply raised the greatsword in preparation for an overhead swing. As she swung it downward towards his neck, Lorenzo noticed it slowing down as it closed in.. Not knowing whether something magical was suddenly happening or if his own senses simply were playing a trick on him, he smirked inwardly, awaiting his fate. But as his death approached slowly but inexorably, the lavender wisps surrounding his executioner and her weapon suddenly coalesced right in front of his eyes, forming the shape of a face he had last seen when it spat blood at him as a last act of defiance. And a smooth, merry voice whispered into his ear.

“Surprise, bitch. Bet you thought you’d seen the last of me.” And then Lorenzo knew no more.

#critical role #cr2 spoilers #writing #venting #it'll happen some way someday #but for now this will do #also I did not proofread this so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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kayluh1915 · 4 years

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103 (?) Questions Answered.

I know this isn’t how this “game” works, but I had him on my mind and I needed a distraction. So, here’s 103 questions about me answered... I think. I’m pretty sure I numbered it wrong somewhere, but I don’t have the mental strength to fix it right now. Enjoy all of this completely useless information! It helped me forget, at least for a while.

1. Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? Spotify.

2. Is your room messy or clean? Clean…ish... most of the time...

3. What color are your eyes? Sea foam blue-green.

4. Do you like your name? why? Yes. IDK, I guess it just sounds pretty.

5. What is your relationship status? Engaged.

6. Describe your personality in 3 words or less. Witty, absent minded, empathetic.

7. What color hair do you have? Dark Brown.

8. What kind of car do you drive? color? I don't have a car yet.

9. Where do you shop? Walmart mostly.

10. How would you describe your style? Girly casual.

11. Favorite social media account? Tumblr.

12. What size bed do you have? Queen.

13. Any siblings? One blood younger bother and one adopted younger sister.

14. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be? Why? Japan because I love their culture.

15. Favorite Snapchat filter? It’s an old one and I don’t think it’s there anymore, but the butterfly crown.

16. Favorite makeup brand(s)? Maybelline and Covergirl. I don’t like to spend a lot of money on makeup.

17. How many times a week do you shower? Three to four.

18. Favorite TV show? Avatar: The Last Airbender.

19. Shoe size? 7½ US

20. How tall are you? 5’0

21. Sandals or sneakers? Sandals!

22. Do you go to the gym? Occasionally. Been meaning to start going more.

23. Describe your dream date A day in Disney or Hawaii.

24. How much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? Bold of you to assume I have money at all.

25. What color socks are you wearing? I'm barefoot at the moment.

26. How many pillows do you sleep with? Only one. I hate a crowded bed.

27. Do you have a job? What do you do? Currently unemployed at the moment due to certain circumstances.

28. How many friends do you have? I have a lot of friends, but only about six or seven close ones.

29. What’s the worst thing you have ever done? I used a guy’s feelings for me to get free food. I know that sounds bad, but they were aware that I was dating my fiancé and they were supposed to be getting married themselves, but still continued to try and pursue me anyway. Figured I may as well get a Big Mac and some Pepsi out of it.

30. Whats your favorite candle scent? Vanilla!

31. Three favorite boy names? Eric, Mason, and Xander.

32. Three favorite girl names? Brielle, Brooklyn, and Scarlett.

33. Favorite actor? Adam Driver.

34. Favorite actress? Jennifer Lawrence.

35.Who is your celebrity crush? Well, I just found out that he’s secretly been a manipulative monster all this time… so no one right now.

36. Favorite movie? Titanic.

37. Do you read a lot? What’s your favorite book? I hardly ever read “traditional” literature, but among the ones I have read my favorites are Hatchet and Bud not Buddy.

38. Money or brains? Brains.

39. Do you have a nickname? What is it? Usually just Kay. My Papaw used to call me Booch. I don’t know where he got it or why he called me that, but he did. He passed away in 2013, though, so no one calls me that anymore.

40. How many times have you been to the hospital? Admitted? About 5 or 6 times. Visited? More than I can count.

41. Top 10 favorite songs? These change on a regular basis, but for now they are:

43.Do you take any medications daily? I take a total of 4 medications every night before bed

44. What is your skin type (oily, dry, etc)? Combination.

45. What is your biggest fear? This is going to sound childish, but the dark. Well, I guess it’s not actually the dark its self that scares me, it’s knowing that there could be something standing less than five feet in front of you and you’d have no way of knowing. It’s more of what could be hiding in the dark than the actual dark.

46. How many kids do you want? Zero, zip, nadda.

47. Whats your go to hair style? Braid for a day or two then down until I wash my hair again.

48.What type of house do you live in? Small-medium apartment.

49. Who is your role model? I really look up to my old band teacher a lot. He always has something inspiring to say and makes you feel like you can conquer the world.

50. What was the last compliment you received? I was told that I was super kind and sweet.

51. What was the last text you sent? “Well, if I ever play it with you you’ll get to hear me freaking the fuck out. 😂😂😂”- Sent to my buddy James when he told me about Phasmophobia.

52. How old were you when you found out Santa wasn’t real? My mom never told us that Santa was real to begin with. She felt like lying to us was wrong so she just… told us straight up.

53. What is your dream car? Just your typical, modern Chevy or Nissan. I don’t really want anything flashy, just something that can get me from point A to point B in comfort.

54. Opinion on smoking? I've lost three of my four grandparents to smoking induced lung cancer. One of those was my Mamaw who I watched cough up her lungs through a tube when I was only six. Don’t fucking do it.

55. Do you go to college? I did at one point. Hoping to return one day.

56. What is your dream job? Running my own YouTube channel or marching band… or both. Being an Achievement Hunter doesn’t sound like a bad gig either.

57. Would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? Suburbs. People love the rural lifestyle until they hear about these new, hip things like Uber, Grub Hub, on time delivery, and fast internet.

58. Do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? Are you… not supposed to?

59. Do you have freckles? Nope.

60. Do you smile for pictures? Usually, yes.

61. How many pictures do you have on your phone? 570. Had a shit ton more, but I backed them up to my Google account and freed up a bunch of space.

62. Have you ever peed in the woods? I grew up in the middle of redneck county where camping is an extension of one's self… of course I have.

63. Do you still watch cartoons? ...Duh?

64. Do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonald's? Mick D's!

65. Favorite dipping sauce? Ranch or honey mustard.

66. What do you wear to bed? Panties and a large nightshirt.

67. Have you ever won a spelling bee? Hell no. I can spell, but not unless I’m writing it.

68. What are your hobbies? Playing the trumpet, singing, sewing, writing, cooking, and video games.

69. Can you draw? Can pigs fly?

70. Do you play an instrument? Yes! I play trumpet (as mentioned earlier), flute, and piano.

71.What was the last concert you saw? I've never been to a concert unless you consider all the choir and band concerts I've participated in over the years.

72. Tea or coffee? Coffee.

73. Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? Starbucks.

74. Do you want to get married? Currently engaged, so yes.

75. What is your crush’s first and last initial? WI

76. Are you going to change your last name when you get married? Yes.

78. What color looks best on you? Red.

79. Do you miss anyone right now? Oof… too soon… Well, I miss the person I thought he was, not him... does that count?

80. Do you sleep with your door open or closed? Open. If my cats can’t sleep with me, they bring hell.

81. Do you believe in ghosts? Yes… and no. It’s hard to explain.

82. What is your biggest pet peeve? Someone telling me to go do something when I'm already doing it or was on my way to do it.

83. Last person you called? The fiancé.

84. Favorite ice cream flavor? Moose Tracks or Vanilla.

85. Regular Oreo's or golden Oreo's? Regular double stuffed or nothing.

86. Chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? Rainbow.

87. What shirt are you wearing? My old marching band shirt.

89. What is your phone background?

Created by this artist.

90. Are you outgoing or shy? Depends on situation. If I'm comfortable, I'm outgoing. If I’m not, I'm quiet and shy.

91. Do you like it when people play with your hair? Yes, but my hair is curly and it frizzes up when people run their fingers through it so no.

92. Do you like your neighbors? Yeah, they’re okay.

93. Do you wash your face? At night? In the morning? I wash my face every night before bed.

94. Have you ever been high? Nope.

95. Have you ever been drunk? Yes.

96. Last thing you ate? Homemade air-fried popcorn chicken. Made it myself and it was delicious.

97. Favorite lyrics right now? “It’s OK not to be OK.”

98. Summer or winter? Summer!

99. Day or Night? Night!

100. Dark, milk, or white chocolate? Milk!

101. Favorite month? June.

102. What is your zodiac sign? Gemini.

103. Who was the last person you cried in front of? The fiancé.

#kayla's ramblings #103 (?) questions answered #I don't miss him #but i really do miss the man who I thought he was #and it's really starting to get to me #i understand that the man i miss isn't reality #I accept that #but i still miss who i thought he was and the normalcy

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happiness-in-oblivion · 6 years

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Senior Szn No. 4: Random Thoughts

Today, I have the sweet pleasure of having to meet not a single obligation. So, here goes! This is literally a post that I’ve been wanting to write for a while, but I was too worried that it was a bit of an existential crisis, if you know what I mean. Two days ago, however, I had a little epiphany and I just need to write. But first, here goes the newest description.

Currently, I should be at my dance institute to workstudy, but I decided I could complete my task at a local coffee shop. So, here I am, twenty minutes later, ready to start writing.

It’s overwhelming how much description this battered-down coffee shop actually has. For one, I managed to snatch my favorite spot, which is a tall black table with a cushioned stool that has uneven legs, so it’s mildly uncomfortable. But it’s definitely not uncomfortable enough to make me move. The table is obviously repurposed because it has eccentric colored nails haphazardly poking through the table. This quirky location happens to be right next to the window. Now, this window happens to hold about five different potted plants, one of which is a miniature tree that has grown large enough to drape over the table. If I perk my back completely straight, the bright green leaves give me a little scalp massage. It’s quite wonderful.

Straight in front of me is a vintage bar area with no alcohol. Actually, on some days, the space is occupied by an old man who sales his used books with vintage covers for a few bucks. I often come to this bookstore before Barnes and Noble in search for an original copy of a book.

Today, the walls are painted light green, light orange, and peach. I say today because every other week a new artist comes to redo the place. Last week, the walls were completely white and filled with local poetry. Today, the walls are adorned with elementary students’ canvases, bringing even more colors into the equation.

This place is called Winning Coffee, and it is known as the pot and hobo infested coffee shop with really good coffee. Looking outside, a group of homeless men chill at a round table, smoking their cigarettes between thoughtful conversations. After a while of observing them, it seems that they put out their cigarette just so that they can have the pleasure of relighting another cigarette. It seems they have a plethora of cigarettes, in fact.

Unfortunately, I have not been listening to the conversations around me because I did not forget my headphones. But looking around, every type of human is here, displaying the true diversity that Albuquerque houses. We have the college students (one of them is in my class), the business men, the homeless men with a husky, a stressed out blonde mom, a transgendered, my dance teacher, and literally so many other people. Most of them incredibly familiar, so much so that I feel the need to disguise my face and avoid actual eye contact.

Alright, now onto what happened to me on Tuesday. Let’s do this.

It was obviously a regular day. Nothing about it was different. Like usual, I jaywalked to cross the street from the university to the coffee shops. As I was waiting for the cars to pass, however, I looked down and noticed a card.

It was a playing card. Specifically, a nine of hearts (or diamonds, I can’t remember, just the fact that it was a bright red). The card looked pretty worn, either from great use or being frequently run over or both. I looked at it for a few seconds, wondering what its journey was. I get it, cheesy as hell. But it’s true. I came up with a story that a bunch of hobos were walking the streets playing cards and probably drunk, and happened to slip one on the ground without noticing. Before the thought could actually be developed, I crossed the street and walked into my favorite sushi-esque restaurant.

After ordering my food, I decided to sit outside. The outside patio is guarded by a nice, wooden fence that actually has a few slits that gives customers a peek into the outside street. Actually, this is a good thing, because the street actually houses a plethora of homeless people that are actually pretty dangerous and unashamed.

As I worked on my math homework, a homeless man hobbled on the other side of the fence holding a can of Sprite, presumably full. The only reason I assume it full is because he presently chucked the Sprite past the fence, surprisingly going through one of the slits and landing a few feet away from me, and the can emitted a good amount of soda. I have trained myself to not look up to avoid conflict or confrontation, but I nodded my head up to see a bit of his features as he murmured words to himself.

As he left, I gave the can on the brick ground one last look. In that moment, I couldn’t help but think that only I will know how that can ended up there. Everyone else sitting in this area in five minutes will assume a customer dropped their drink without picking it up. They’d formulate a reasonable answer to their inquiry, almost like I’d done when I saw the cards. Suddenly, I was compelled to know his story. How he was raised, how he became homeless, and so much more.

I learned the next day that there is an unofficial word for this feeling: sonder.

It’s funny to discover a word like this, because I have felt this way so often. There was once a veteran at Barnes and Noble reading a magazine, and as he carefully caressed each page with a swift and gentle slip of his index finger, the expression in his face changed with little jerks of muscle underneath his eyebrows. I remember my heart flittered, and I desperately wanted to gain the confidence to ask him about his experiences.

I also constantly feel the need to learn languages. After all, it is quite true that knowing someone’s language shows a sense of camaraderie among two people, and an unspoken connection. It is easier to relate to others, and that is something I constantly crave.

That night I attended my first ever slam poetry show. The poet grew up in Albuquerque, so her poetry is hilariously relatable. As I was in the audience listening to her passion on the stage, I felt a great wave of satisfaction and admiration. Now to seg-way into my constant thought-process.

If I listed my passions in no particular order, they would be:

- Dancing

- Computer Science / Math

- Writing

I’m often in a state of reverie where I imagine myself on the coast of Italy, sitting in a grimy beach house with my typewriter facing the beautiful open doors with the blue ocean. There, I write stories and live. Just live.

I’ve come to realize that I admire dancers and writers so much more than others. I can’t help but witness their confidence and bravery everyday in rehearsals. These people literally live on nothing (most of the time) because they are that in love with their profession. They are willing to sacrifice everything to express themselves genuinely.

I have also come to realize that I will never have the bravery it takes to become a dancer or a writer. Currently, these two things are reliable for a mental escape, a willing break that I give myself to focus on the beautiful while simultaneously improving my physique (physically and mentally). Don’t get me wrong, I also love programming and mathematics. Everything I actually pursue is because it is addicting to me, and I feel the urge to finish every task I am given. All my passions are all synonymous with the fact that they are always changing, and so there is always room for improvement (hence the addiction).

In the end, I know that I will choose computer science because it is the safe option. I love it just as much, but I feel a sense of responsibility when I choose that as my future major. After all, it is something I can enjoy and also have financial stability. Also, it is something that I already see as work, so it is very natural for me to continue in that path. I would never want my financial stability to rely on my dance technique or my ability to write as judged by others. I truly believe that I do not have the willpower to endure that. By that I mean having a job like dancing that I eventually hate because it brings me financial stress. And that’s okay.

I am glad I have acknowledged this about myself. It is okay for me to be a coward, because in the end, I always choose to be a realist. In my mind, however, I will always sympathize more with someone who opens an art studio, or self-publishes a book. There is something to be said about someone who can do that.

I don’t know how to end this post other than to say I hope you learned a new word.

#albuquerque #college #senior #sonder

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akirakurusufoollink · 7 years

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Pegoryu Prompt: Confession

@littlemissmellodeeThis took longer than expected, but here is the prompt you submitted to me. I hope you enjoy it!

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Ryuji’s heart sinks in his chest as he watches Akira drop to the floor. An angel shadow looms over Akira, grabbing him by the hair as it readies another kouha to strike a finishing blow. Captain Kidd’s electric skills will do nothing, but he has to act fast. He takes a deep breath and rushes angel with all he has, taking a bit of damage from the light attack. Ryuji’s blow knocks the massive angel out of the air, crashing it into the tile floor. He looms over it and pulls out his shot gun, pointing it to the center of the thing’s forehead. Its eyes water.

“Please spare me!” It wails in a shrill voice. It spreads its wings, they bristle and ready to take flight.

Ann runs to Akira’s side and places a hand to his back. “What do you want to do?”

Ryuji grits his teeth and looks at Akira from the corner of his eye. Akira is still on the ground, quaking in a bloody mess, unresponsive to Ann’s question. His gaze refocuses on the angel, brown eyes burning with unbridled hatred. He cocks the gun.

Ann looks back up in a panic. “Ryuji! What are you doing! This has to be una-“

Too late. A bang resounds through the room. The angel is dead with a large smoking hole through its forehead. Ryuji turns around and paces over to Akira as the shadow evaporates in a torrent of blood and black mist. He kneels down, back facing Akira. The brunet looks up, eyes barely able to open.

Ryuji looks over his shoulder. “Gimme your arms, Dude…”

Akira reaches up and places his hands on Ryuji’s shoulders. Long rips run along his red gloves, making several sections hang by mere threads off of his fingers. He can’t grip onto Ryuji at all, any exertion sends sensations of pain up his arms. He lets out a soft whimper.

Ryuji’s eyebrows knit together. He gently maneuvers back against Akira, draping his arms over his shoulders. Akira shudders and sags against Ryuji’s back. He grabs onto Akira’s legs and hefts him up onto his back. Akira’s head lulls over Ryuji’s right shoulder. Ryuji looks toward Ann, Yusuke, Morgana, and Makoto.

“Cover my ass, I’m gonna sprint.”

Everyone nods and readies their guns. Ryuji readies himself and takes off running, even with his right knee quivering and every nerve feeling like it’s on fire. He looks ahead, blowing through groups of guards, alarms blare and bullets are whizzing by them. His back and shoulders grow warm and sticky from Akira’s blood. His breaths grow shallow. Ryuji’s eyes widen, he pushes harder. He needs to move faster. Nothing else matters except getting Akira out of the palace. He would blow his knee out before letting Akira die here.

The doors to the bank are in view. One large guard blocks the way. Ryuji grits his teeth and lets out a growl as he bowls the thing over, rushing through the doorway. Morgana shoots through the door next, with Makoto in tow. Yusuke and Ann bring up the rear, spraying bullets into the horde of pursuing shadows.

The palace falls away, revealing the real Shibuya. Everyone is in their regular clothes, even Akira seems normal. The evidence of the cuts and bruises are gone, but something is wrong. His breaths are still shallow. Ryuji’s knees give out and he collapses to the ground. He gives Akira’s leg a squeeze. No response.

“Hey, this ain’t funny, Man…”

He squeezes harder. Still no response. He takes hold of Akira’s hand. It’s too cold to the touch, like there’s no longer anything inside keeping him warm. His lips are turning blue.

“No…no, no, no!” Ryuji looks up in a panic.

The rest of the group gathers around them. Their faces all pale. Yusuke approaches Ryuji and attempts to take Akira from him. Ryuji stumbles to his feet. His eyes are wild. The dark haired boy steps back in bewilderment.

“Eff off!” Ryuji stumbles on his bad leg, but wills it to hold his and Akira’s weight any way. “I know a place… just help me get to the train.”

“Kay…let’s go.” Ann goes to support Ryuji’s weaker side. The group maneuvers through the crowd, attracting strange looks from passersby.

They send the boys off on the train to Yongenjaya. They all want to go, but they could barely stuff Ryuji and Akira into the remaining space with Morgana enduring the tight squeeze inside of Akira’s book bag.

A young couple sees Ryuji’s predicament with Akira and attempt to give up their seats to them, but an older couple manages to steal them away before Ryuji even has time to react. He shoots the old bastards a scathing glare, but doesn’t have any further energy to waste being mad. Akira needs every ounce of strength he has to safely make it to the shady doctor.

As soon as the doors slide open, Ryuji shoves past everyone and bolts toward the clinic. He stumbles along the road, clipping and sometimes outright shoving past people going about their business on the narrow road. He tackles the door open, breathless and cheeks flush. Tae looks at him as if he is absolutely nuts until she sees Akira’s limp body on his back.

“Go to the examination room.”

Ryuji takes a bit too long to move, his knees quake and his mind is pulling him in too many directions. Tae’s eyes narrow as she gets up and slaps a hand against the desk.

“Move it!”

Ryuji snaps out of his stupor and hurries past the doors into the back room.

Tae sets to work immediately. She maneuvers IV hangers and various monitors around the room. She readies the examination table as Ryuji carefully eases Akira off of his back and onto the wax paper on top of the stiff table.

“Take his clothes off while I set up the transfusion.”

Ryuji hesitantly begins pulling off Akira’s uniform shirt. His vision blurs as he sees the scars from this evening’s angel attacks. They litter his body, up and down the toned planes of his abdomen and dangerously close to his heart. Ryuji’s hands don’t want to cooperate as they hover over the button of his pants. It feels like he is violating his best friend. Even in such a situation, he can’t help but linger too long. He looks out of the corner of his eye and sees Tae is about ready to turn around. Ryuji figures that it is better him than her that does this. At least that is the best justification to set his hands in motion. The button and zipper give way easy enough, revealing black boxer briefs and even more scars as he pulls Akira’s pants down his slender legs. Ryuji can hardly stand to look at them.

Tae whips around places a mask over Akira’s mouth and hurriedly sanitizes the area over his right antecubital. She does a quick blood pressure check and lets out a ghasp. As she inserts several items into Akira’s arm, Ryuji’s vision blurs then goes white. The last thing his sees is Tae’s shocked face and Akira’s feint breaths against a respirator.

He wakes up with a massive headache from, what he assumes, his head hitting the floor. His head is elevated, but his only view is of Tae’s outrageous choice of footwear. He groans as he lifts himself off of the floor by the examination table. Tae sits at the desk, scribbling down notes while keeping a watchful eye on the monitor. Ryuji winces at the pains in his knee and head as he pulls himself up to kneel by Akira. His complexion is better, but Ryuji is still unsure of his friend’s condition.

“He’s stable…I calculate that he will regain consciousness shortly.” Tae assesses Ryuji without so much as a glance.

“Thank-“

“Look, I don’t want thanks for this and though I’m curious I don’t want to know. Whatever it is though, it’s put him in no position to do it again.” She slowly pivots her chair around.

Ryuji turns to face her stern eyes. “I…yeah. He ain’t doing this again.”

Tae nods her approval and hands Ryuji two capsules.

“The hell’s this?” Ryuji stares at them, skeptical of their contents.

“The yellow is for your head and the green one is for your knee. Take them sooner rather than later. He’ll need your help to get home.” She gets up and nudges Ryuji aside so she can pull the needle out and put a tourniquet on his arm.

Ryuji turns away as Tae performs her tasks. He stares at the pills for a moment before dry swallowing them. It can’t be helped.

Akira lets out a little groan as he starts to wake up. All of the tension falls from Ryuji’s body as he turns his complete attention to Akira. Heat is welling within his chest. His heart feels like it could burst out of him at any moment and he’d be fine with it. His best friend is okay. That’s all that matters. Akira ain’t going anywhere. He’s not leaving him.

“Akira! How are you feeling? Are you okay? Jesus Christ, you had me going there for a bit!” Even with the relief, Ryuji is entirely too frazzled.

Akira drapes an arm over his eyes and smiles. “Sorry that I scared you, Ryuji…and thanks.”

“Don’t be sorry…just…” the blond takes Akira’s other hand in his. “Don’t fucken do that again…” Ryuji begins to quiver slightly. He places his forehead against the brunet’s hand. Tear drops drip from brown eyes across Akira’s pale skin.

Tae gets up and writes a prescription. She places it next to Ryuji’s hand and walks to the door. “I’m closing shop for today. Make sure he gets home safely. And no more of whatever it is that caused this.”

The door clicks closed and the room is left in an awkward silence. Akira turns his head to look at Ryuji, whose face is still buried against his hand. He’s never seen his best friend so panicked. He pushes himself up on one elbow and strokes the mess of blond hair gently with his free hand.

As soon as Ryuji feels this, he calms a bit. He can still feel that heat throughout him. Why though? When he thought Akira could die from his wounds, he totally lost it. He then remembers how he acted toward Yusuke, not wanting anyone else to touch Akira. Not wanting anyone to take him away. There’s nothing to that, right? He was just being protective of his best friend. He raises his head only to be face to face with Akira’s silver eyes. His cheeks and ears instantly flush. Shit… this isn’t just friendship any more, huh? When did this even happen? Fuck…who cares right now.

“Hey, Ryuji? You okay there?” Akira’s features fill with concern. “Your face is red…and you’re spacing out.”

Ryuji shakes his head. “Sorry, guess I’m still on an adrenaline high, eh?” He pulls back and flashes a genuine smile. That is, until he realizes that Akira is still naked. He hurriedly searches and locates the folded clothes that were under his head and shoves them at Akira.

“Your clothes, Dude. You can’t walk home like that.”

Akira flushes a little. Ryuji catches it and his own turns into a deep crimson hue. This guy is too cute. What the hell.

Akira struggles with his clothes. Apparently he’s still pretty weak.

“This is a little embarrassing, but Ryuji…” Akira holds his shirt and pants out to the blond. “Could you help me get dressed?”

Ryuji hesitates for a moment, but takes the clothes back and starts to redress Akira.The shirt goes on without much trouble. Now the pants… Ryuji carefully places each foot in a pant leg and keeps hold of the waist.

“Ehhh…I know this is gonna be kind of awk sauce.” Ryuji’s brown eyes shift back and forth.

“What do I need to do?” Akira stares up at him, equally flushed and just as awkward.

“I need you to lean on me.”

Akira nods.

Ryuji places both of the brunet’s hands on his shoulders. “Put all your weight on me.”

“Seems like I’ve been doing that all night.” Akira catches what he says too late. That sounded really weird.

Ryuji’s entire face goes red. “C’mon, Akira, how the eff can you say shit like that at a time like this?” The blond struggles to focus properly as he eases Akira to his feet, taking the brunt of the weight into his shoulders and chest.

“Just wanted to lighten the mood a little?” The words come out muffled due to the brunet’s face lulling in Ryuji’s neck.

Ryuji tugs the pants up and buttons them closed. Akira stumbles, but Ryuji quickly catches him by the waist. He’s so slender… Ryuji huffs and lets out a frustrated noise into Akira’s neck. Akira startles, but continues to cling to his best friend.

“What’s up with you? You’re acting strange-“

“Awe fuck it…”

And with that, Ryuji hefts Akira back onto the table, cups his face, and kisses him in a single smooth motion. Akira’s eyes go wide as Ryuji’s brown eyes close. He can’t take this any more. He’s too impatient to try and take time to figure this shit out or to try and read Akira’s signals. He can make amends and excuses later. He just has to do this.

Akira leans into the kiss and clings tighter to Ryuji’s shoulders. They remain this way for a few moments before they both pull back for air.

Akira brings the tips of his fingers up to feel the slight swell of his lips. “Is…is this a confession?”

Ryuji, in shock of what he just had the guts to do, drops back to his knees and buries his face in his hands.

“Because I accept.” Akira’s face still maintains a slight flush as he smiles down at Ryuji.

Ryuji’s expression shifts from incredulous to excited to elated in a matter of seconds. “You serious?”

Akira nods.

Ryuji releases a giant sigh and smiles. He turns around and pulls Akira back onto his shoulders. “Let’s get you home.”

Akira happily leans into the warm planes of Ryuji’s back. They walk to the café in silence, relishing in their own relief and these new budding feelings.

#pegoryu #i finally got one done #sorry for being so slow #akira kusuru #ryuji sakamoto #happy birthday ryuji #fanfiction #pegoryu prompts #akira x ryuji #long post

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veronica-rich · 7 years

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POTC5 thoughts, spoilers

GIANT MASSIVE MOVIE-RUINING SPOILERS AHEAD FOR DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES.

I've only seen the movie once, but I wanted to put a night of sleep between me and it before I tried to convey my thoughts on it. I see my job as a fan here to tell you generally what happens and my thoughts on it, as well as whether you should spend your time going to see it. All only opinions of course. (I'll refer to the movies in numerals - 1 for the first, 5 for this, and then of course the in-betweens. Mainly because I don't want to try to remember the abbreviations OST and DMTNT. See how annoying? LOL)

Here we go ...

Except for where the regulars have ended up and the state of the Black Pearl in movie 5, you really don't need to have seen 4 to understand this one. You don't strictly HAVE to have seen the first three movies, either - this movie can stand on its own as an entertaining single viewing. If you've never seen a POTC movie and you come in with this one, you will probably laugh at most of the jokes (if you have that kind of sense of humor) and like some of the characters.

Since I doubt anyone who hasn't seen at least the first movie is going to read through this, I'll assume you all are familiar with the original characters from 1-3 as I go forth.

THE SPOILERS The movie opens with young Henry Turner tying rocks to his foot to drown himself in the bay just off the land where he lives; he's anywhere from 11-14 years old. His father is Death's Ferryman of the ocean, you see, so the fastest way to raise Will Turner is to get himself killed or nearly killed. He lands on the deck of the Dutchman, it surfaces, and Will emerges to talk with his son. Henry tells him he may have found a way to break the curse that ties Will to the ship, but he needs to find Jack Sparrow to help. Will commands him to not go anywhere near Jack and to go back home and leave him to his fate. Will is barnacled in Davy Jones-lite fashion; just enough to see the sea is winning against his resolve not to succumb to the hopelessness of the job. Unlike Davy Jones, he is not bitter or angry, but resigned and almost tired. We also get a hint that he is not exactly in command of his crew anymore, by how quickly he ushers Henry away and sinks the Dutchman to put distance between them and the boy. (This may also explain why you don't see Will again until the end of the movie, despite all the water-based shenanigans and near-death experiences throughout ... like he's not really in charge of the Dutchman anymore.)

Nine years later, Henry, now anywhere from 20-23 ish, is a low-ranking sailor on a Navy ship. We find out he's searching for Jack and the Pearl. He sees the ship is headed for the cursed Devil's Triangle and tries to warn the captain, telling the man he's read all the lore of the sea and this place is Bad News. The captain not only scolds and mocks him, but strips him of his lowly rank as a traitor and jails him. Of course the ship goes in; of course the cursed Captain Salazar and his undead crew overrun the ship and kill everyone on board - save Henry, whom Salazar tells to relay a message to Jack when he finds him. (We'll find out later Salazar used to be a pirate-hunter and perished in a fire in the Devil's Triangle while chasing newly-captained Jack Sparrow, while Jack escaped. So, he's hunting Jack. Trouble is, he can't leave the Triangle unless something happens - which it will, later.)

Through a series of events, Henry ends up at the same Caribbean English outpost as Jack and a young woman roughly Henry's age, Caryna Smith (Smyth?). Caryna keeps landing in Navy custody and escaping it - she's a scientist, and female in the 18th century, which is enough to get her convicted as a witch. Caryna is an orphan who is amazingly well-educated for having no resources other than a mysterious diary left to her by her father, a man of science who was searching for the Trident of Poseiden - which can break any curse laid at sea. The island shenanigans are pretty entertaining; suffice to say they all end up stealing the same ship with Gibbs, Marty, and the rest of Jack's paltry, pissed-off (at Jack) crew. Also, Jack trades his magic compass away for a bottle of rum (more on this later) and, in willingly giving it up, breaks Salazar's imprisonment miles away, allowing him to sail out on the open waters in his ship-eating ship (you read that right).

More shenanigans happen, McGuffins are pursued (chiefly the Trident, which everybody wants for different reasons), innuendos are made, young romance is set up (of course), we run into Barbossa and his crew, which includes Murtogg and Mullroy (but no Pintel and Ragetti!), Salazar's in the mix, and we find out his crew can't set foot on land any more than the Dutchman's crew or captain (they vanish in a puff of black smoke if they get out of the water). Shenanigans, shenanigans, it turns out Caryna is totally NOT the daughter of Jack Sparrow as most of us suspected (mainly because making Jack and Will co-parents-in-law would have been too delicious) - but the reality is possibly more entertaining, since it turns out Barbossa is her father.

(I really did want the after-credits scene to be Will and Elizabeth finding out their daughter-in-law-probably-to-be is a Barbossa, then the camera pans back to a general shot of the island, a la "Home Alone 2" while in the far distance you can still hear the two of them screaming "NOOOOOOOOOO!" with birds flying off in every direction.)

So - they find the Trident, break the curse on Salazar's ship (and we'll find out later, on Will Turner, too, elsewhere in the ocean) turning them all back human, and the good guys manage to escape back to the Pearl while Salazar falls to his death. Well ... not actually. Caryna briefly finds out that Barbossa is her father, after which he sacrifices himself to drown with Salazar to ensure her ability to escape his clutches unharmed. Once they're all safe, Caryna decides to change her last name to Barbossa from Smith. Cut to the cliffs outside Henry's childhood home, where he and Caryna are engaging in their form of verbal foreplay and smooching, when the Dutchman shows up in the distance, uncursed and gleaming brown and beige sails. Will climbs the hill to hug his son, confused as to how he's come to be uncursed and human again ... but just as Henry's going to take old man to the pub for a grog and a tale, Elizabeth appears in the distance hiking her skirts. She and Will run to each other and embrace, then kiss, while Henry and Caryna look on from a distance ... and from an even further distance on the Pearl, Jack watches through his spyglass, revolted by the whole picture of domesticity porn. And then he and his crew sail off.

The after-credits scene is Will and Elizabeth sleeping in their seaside bedroom - they are both dressed in clean white linen sleep-gowns, and they've had baths, and all I could think was This is the cleanest I've ever seen these two. Something menacing is coming up the steps and creaking open their door and looming toward the bed, and we catch a glimpse of some barnacled sea creature reaching for them when Will jerks awake from his bad dream. He looks around, turns over, hugs Elizabeth, and goes back to sleep ... and the camera pans down to the floor to close on a puddle of water and corals snapped off in it.

WHAT I WAS 'MEH' ABOUT OR DISLIKED: For me, it's easier to start with what I don't care for about a movie, if I'm ambivalent. And I sure was about 5.

Plot holes - SO many. I won't list them all, but there is not adequate explanation for many things. Of course, 1-3 also had fantastical elements, but they were explained and largely made sense in-universe. People do things that don't always make sense; magical objects aren't always explained. There's a lot of suspending of disbelief you have to do for this one.

Characterization - The nuance of the first three movies is lacking in a lot of characters here. Everyone who's Navy is efficient, duty-driven, and arrogant or head-down-following-orders. There's no Norrington-type in this movie (BTW, Norrington is not mentioned - which I think will actually make a lot of his fans happy, especially after movies 2 and 3). Nobody in authority seems to be a benevolent person - they're not all Trump, but neither are there any Bernies. The pirates are kind of dumb, more than they need to be. Which brings us to ...

Jack Sparrow - Oh, man. I gotta limit myself on this one. I don't know if Depp had much input into Jack's characterization in this one, but if he did, it honestly looks like his IRL troubles were leaking in to the point of almost drowning the character. In movies 1-3 Jack is a buffoon only insofar as it serves his purpose to make people think he's not as smart as he really is, so he can sneak under the radar with his cleverness and charm a lot of people he needs to do things for him. Conversely, if you only saw this movie and not the earlier ones, you would think Jack is a fall-down dissolute drunk and whoremonger who isn't very bright and whose fortunes come almost entirely on luck and other people's allowances for him. There are only a handful of flashes of the old brilliance and character, and I really miss That Guy. Whereas young Will Turner was trying to second-guess what Jack was really up to in 1, young Henry Turner seems most of the time like he's Jack's guardian trying to keep him propped upright and marching forward like you would that uncle you always heard used to be ripping brilliant but now is "ehhhh."

The lack of callbacks - I wanted more callbacks in this movie. I wanted Henry to talk more about his mom and dad and stories he'd grown up hearing, and what his mom was doing, and some line from Barbossa or Gibbs about something they remembered of his parents, bad or good. There are a couple of little moments, but it's not enough. Which brings me to ...

The retconning - I won't wade too deep into this, except to say it's very clear these are different screenwriters than worked on the first three movies. I won't say Jack's entire backstory is retconned, but you have to be a somewhat skillful fanfic writer to take what they give us and work it in with what we've learned in movies 2 and 3, particularly. Also, I'm not wild about what they did to Will Turner's personality as captain of the Dutchman, but we can discuss that later - at least it *might* have a basis in logical explanation.

Green-screening - I shouldn't say this was "bad" so much as there were moments it was too obvious some actor was hanging from something or standing on something to look like they were hanging on something, and the camera was too close and it just looked a little fake-y. Still, I understand FX isn't an easy thing (and where were a lot of FX shots that were really good in this one, so maybe this isn't a "MEH" so much as "A FEW SHOTS THAT COULD HAVE BEEN EXECUTED BETTER").

Too little Will and Elizabeth - There should have been more of both in the movie. If you're going to pay your actors as much as they likely got (as much as I HOPE they were paid to be in it), use them. I'm just saying. I wanted some more of them.

THINGS I LIKED: Henry and Caryna - As separate characters, that is. I have nothing against their romance; they're cute, and their style of banter is something I could see them keeping up into old age. But I prefer a character to stand on their own, and they're all right. The actor who plays Henry is not quite the treasure young Tom "Spider-Man" Holland is turning out to be, but he's got talent and he does a pretty good job of getting across an amalgamation of the personalities of Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann. My favorite thing about Henry is that he seems to be only an OK swordsman; he's not his father - but what he lacks there he makes up for in what seems to be a preternatural affinity for hand-to-hand combat. He hits, he kicks, he kneels to trip people over him, he even grabs a couple and bodyslams them like The Undertaker. (I am sincerely hoping Elizabeth taught him these moves.) And Caryna - she's not like Elizabeth. She doesn't fight or confront the same way, but she's direct and unafraid, and good at getting herself out of jail and other tight spots. Plus, she's book-smart and scientifically literate. I swear to Christ if their kid inherit both their traits, they're going to be either Sherlock Holmes or Lara Croft.

Will Turner - Shut up. Of course I like him. I'm not entirely wild what the writers did with him or the fact he's in this so little, but I enjoy the fact he's middle-aged and looks like it with facial lines and sadness in his eyes at the right time (and some humor), and it was nice to see him and Elizabeth happy again. Of course, I can still pair him just as easily with Jack in fanfic, which brings us to ...

Jack/Will potential - Yes, it's still there. If you're an industrious fanfic writer or reader, you can make it happen. They're both older and a little more defeated, and Will definitely wouldn't be putting up with any of Jack's bullshit at this point, but you can slash them. What I really liked is how Jack didn't really show any favoritism or fondness for Henry 94 percent of the time, but there were 3-4 instances he did something to save the kid, because why not. He does ask after Elizabeth at one point and if she said his name in her sleep (LOL), and Henry is "no ... no." (I saw someone online comment that this is patently untrue, since how else would Henry know about Jack in the first place, and that the more likely explanation is that Elizabeth probably shit-talked Jack through most of the kid's childhood, sprinkled with some fond allowances for the fact Jack wasn't always a selfish prick or one or both of Henry's parents would be dead, okay?) Granted, I think most of the slash at this point in their lives would be less about Jack and Will having sex everywhere and more about Will overlooking the fact Jack cheats at cards and drawing a sword on anyone who tries to shoot him for it at the pub. But, you know. You can have the nookie too. (And yeah, there's OT3 fic to be had too, probably in Elizabeth being the one every so often who pulls the gun on Jack and Will lets her. Or she bodyslams Jack.)

ANYWAY ... I won't say it's a bad movie and I won't say it's a really good movie. It's entertaining. Had this been the first POTC movie, I don't believe there would be any sequels. There are things I could've done better if they'd hired me to write it, easily; there are things a lot of us in the old fandom could've done better if they'd only hired US instead. But it has enough holes in it that if you like the fanfic thing, you can spend lots of time patching up missing scenes and what-not.

#potc spoilers #potc5

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rolandfontana · 6 years

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Seizing a Second Chance: An Ex-Inmate Brings Hope Back to Her Community

Karen Loftin sits on the edge of the park bench. She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear, her long, perfectly manicured nails shining in the afternoon sunlight. A gold chain clinks around her neck. She wears a shirt embossed with one bold word — “Confident.”

Turning to the camera, she smiles unwaveringly. After the shutter goes off, she stands up.

“Take a photograph of me near the tree!” she says, her face lighting up with childlike energy. She runs towards a trunk covered in vines.

Karen’s warm demeanor is one of her most striking traits.

I first met her at PEACE Inc.’s Emma L. Johnston Southside Family Resource Center in Syracuse, N.Y. PEACE is a non-profit organization which provides services to the community, one of which is re-entry support for former prisoners and parolees.

Before I met Karen, I was aware she had served some jail time on drug abuse and prostitution charges, but that was the extent of what I knew about her.

A few days after our first meeting, Karen told me about her involvement with PEACE. Over banana bread and coffee, she told me that after being off parole for 16 years, PEACE hired her to work under the Family Reunification Pilot grant. Her job was to work with each former prisoner and parolee and give them specialized support to smooth their transition from prison to family life.

On our way to the center that morning, Karen told me she was HIV positive. She said she had discovered her status more than 25 years ago after the birth of her second child. She told me in the most matter-of-fact way, but shared talking about her disease hasn’t always been this easy because of the stigma that surrounds her condition.

A regular volunteer at the center, Karen helps people in the community living with HIV by showing them how they can effectively manage the disease and stay positive throughout it all.

“Society says once you’re something, you’re always going to be that. There’s no room to change,” Karen said. “That was one thing I have always had to fight through.”

A Rebel At 12

Karen was born in 1965 on the southwest side of Syracuse to a family of seven children. From a young age, she was rebellious and outspoken. At 12, she was smoking marijuana and constantly getting suspended from middle school.

Her childhood was unstable. Her father was abusive towards her mother, but Karen often found herself taking his side when the police showed up at home.

“I was a daddy’s girl,” she said.

This caused deep cracks in Karen’s relationship with her mother that never fully healed. Her mother passed away while Karen was in prison.

“One of my biggest regrets is that I never got the chance to fix things with my mom. No matter what good things I do in my life, that’s one thing I can’t ever fix,” Karen told me in her apartment, one rainy afternoon.

If you come into contact with young people that are struggling, and their dreams have somehow turned, just encourage them to not give up,” says Loftin. Photo by Zachary Krahmer/The Stand

She pointed to a picture of a serious woman with steady eyes. An uncanny resemblance.

“When I look back on my life, I realize she loved me, she cared for me, she supported me, but because of how I was internalizing things, I couldn’t see it that way,” she said.

A few years later, Karen’s mother sent her to live with her dad and his new family in Puerto Rico. Although passing in school was an effortless task for Karen, she felt under-motivated and abandoned.

“I was searching for something. I felt so abandoned at home; I was always in the streets, searching and searching,” she said. “Finding a place where I could be me.”

Karen says she has seen children in her neighborhood who have gone through similar experiences because they feel so misunderstood and neglected.

“The kids internalize these perceptions of who they are and how the world looks at them,” Karen said. “I was one of them.”

After graduating from school with no foreseeable plans for the future, Karen took to the streets. It was there at age 19 that she got into a relationship with a man 10 years her senior.

Karen’s relationship with the man quickly turned abusive after she discovered he was a heavy narcotics user. It was out of shame that she stayed with him, she said.

It was around that time that Karen went to jail for the first time for stealing and cashing checks. She received probation, but violated it at 21. By then, she was doing cocaine, working as a prostitute, cashing checks and doing whatever else she could to support her drug habits, she said.

In 1985, Karen went to county jail, and three years later, served her first prison term. What followed was a series of back and forths in and out of jail. In 1990, Karen’s father passed away and she violated parole. She took off with a man to Connecticut. He ended up becoming the father of her two children.

Karen gave birth to her daughter in 1991 at age 25, and her son in 1994. During this time, HIV was transitioning between gay, white men to intravenous drug users, spreading primarily through shared needles and syringes. Because she was still an active drug user, Karen got HIV tested after each of her pregnancies. The first time, the results came out negative. But the second time, she tested positive.

It was a result that turned her world upside down.

Behind Bars, Again

After discovering her status, Karen had another prison sentence waiting for her. She found herself behind bars, yet again.

Karen wasn’t HIV tested when she entered prison and didn’t end up sharing her status until two years into her sentence.

“I felt like if I could just smoke marijuana in jail and stay under the radar, I’d be fine,” she said. “Telling people about my status would have made me vulnerable. I couldn’t deal with that.”

Karen says during the 1980s, the HIV epidemic was growing at a much faster pace than people could handle. She says she remembers sitting in prison with other women and wondering how they would protect themselves, considering many high-risk groups go to jail.

Shortly after this, the prison Karen started a program to educate and empower women coming in. Karen and her inmates wanted to quell fears about HIV, so they pushed legislation from inside the prison.

Through a close friend she made at the program, Karen met her “guardian angel,” Kathy Bouldin, another prisoner and social activist. Bouldin pushed Karen to disclose her HIV status to the other inmates, as well as become a peer educator for the HIV program.

“Here was this white Jewish woman from Brooklyn telling me all I had was a big mouth, and that I should use it for something good.”

“It was just so funny because I’d grown up being such a black radical — black power this, black power that,” Karen said. “And here was this white Jewish woman from Brooklyn telling me all I had was a big mouth, and that I should use it for something good.”

Under Bouldin’s guidance, Karen became an educator in the program. She helped develop workshops for new inmates. She grew into her position and says she found her calling. But there were difficult times.

Karen recalls one particular support group for female inmates she spent a great deal of time organizing. But when it came time to talk about HIV, the women weren’t interested. They told her they’d rather watch a movie.

“I was so hurt,” Karen said. “I asked them, do you not want this information? And they were like, no, because we got you for that!”

Karen says she remembers going back to Bouldin and crying. Through her tears, Karen had an epiphany.

“You can set everything before some people and they still wouldn’t know what to do with it. Working with the women, I realized because of their circumstances and how they were raised, they actually didn’t know any better,” Karen said. “They needed someone to speak for them. They needed me.”

Karen says forcing people to speak up about what they are facing is not social advocacy.

“I don’t have a problem speaking up and talking about my status because I know people out there that are afraid and they look to me and people like me for empowerment,” Karen said. “But that doesn’t mean they have to pick up a microphone and declare they are positive themselves.”

Returning Home: The Disconnect

A few months after her epiphany, Karen finished her prison sentence and was able to go back to her family.

By this time, her children were already walking and talking. But from the first day, Karen felt an utter disconnect from her son and daughter. Karen says she remembers her children crying because they didn’t want to leave their old home and family behind.

“They might have assumed that everything they learned from the people who had them when they were young was what they should go by,” Karen said.

Loftin, now pursuing a Masters at Syracuse U, hopes to help troubled youth in the community by opening her own resource center. Photo by Saniya More/The Stand

“I felt like any of the values and standards that I was implementing in my household were kind of overlooked, like I was this lady that just came home and got her kids back.”

Time has helped Karen’s relationship with her children, she says. But there are times when she feels like they don’t know each other as a family.

“I still feel like my incarceration is playing a part in our relationship. If I could, I would love to go to therapy with my children, because we never sat down and talked about how me not being in their lives affected them,” Karen said.

“We just never had those conversations.”

Bruce Western, author of “Homeward: Life in the Year After Prison,” examines how incarceration impacts the individual and the family. His recently released book shows how failures of social support trap many fresh out of prison in a cycle of vulnerability despite their best efforts to rejoin society.

The perspectives of women are unique to this study, the author says, with each sharing their specific challenges in reestablishing connections with family, particularly on bonding again with offspring.

“When women enter prison, they have accumulated long histories as victims of sexual and other violence and are also more likely than men to have serious drug problems,” Western writes in his book.

“After prison, they were much more likely than men to be living with family. Finding work was a leading challenge for men after incarceration, but for women employment often took a back seat to staying clean and rebuilding family relationships.”

A few weeks after Karen and I started talking, I met her 23-year-old son Joshua Loftin. I wondered if he felt the same disconnect with his mother.

We meet on the first floor of Bird Library on the Syracuse University campus. He’s wearing a Syracuse sweatshirt and tells me Karen dropped him off. He has her smile.

He tells me about finding out his mother is HIV positive.

“We were in the car, I was about 9 or 10. My mom was talking to my older sister about it, but I didn’t understand what was doing on, so I asked,” he said. “I remember feeling like nothing had changed in that moment. It didn’t matter. This was the only mother I was gonna get, and this was the only mother I wanted.”

Karen says her relationship with her parents has, more than anything, shown her what kind of parent she does not want to be. Raising children after going through incarceration presented its own challenges, though, and Karen rarely discussed her prison experiences or her status with her children.

“I didn’t want to overwhelm them,” she said.

Joshua said Karen only really started to open up about her experiences after he started going to community outreach events with her.

After discovering his mother’s status, Joshua went through a period where he blamed himself for it. Because Karen found out she was HIV positive after he was born, he felt like it was his fault she was living with the condition. He has gotten over it over the years, he says, but it’s still hard sometimes.

“She would sometimes come to our school and talk, and she’d ask my sister and I, ‘Am I embarrassing you at all?’ We would always say ‘not at all. This is what helps you. You’re teaching others. Teaching us; teaching yourself,’” Joshua said.

“I don’t want her to feel like she can’t tell her story because of the way I felt back then.”

Karen says one of the hardest things about parenting has been to ensure her children don’t take to the streets like she once did. At the same time, Karen is wary of stopping them from living their own lives.

“I never wanted my children to think I was afraid of them turning out to be like me,” Karen said. “I want them to grow into themselves.”

Joshua says that at times, he feels that Karen expects unrealistic things from him — expectations he doesn’t think he can live up to, like getting a specific job or living life a certain way.

“She pushes and pushes and pushes,” he tells me. “Growing up, I felt like I wasn’t the golden child that she wanted me to be.”

But Joshua says he understands where his mother comes from. He says he is incredibly proud of how far she has come, even if they bump heads often.

“She can heat up quicker than me,” he says with a laugh. “I know she’s been through way more though, that’s probably why.”

The Stigma of Prison

When Karen left prison about 20 years ago, she faced a lot of stigma, especially when it came to job-hunting.

Since then, she says society has become much more understanding of a person’s criminal history, even though people like her still face discrimination every day, particularly because of their race, gender and HIV status.

“The African-American community continues to dominate the top of every negative list,” Karen said. “Local leaders are somewhat negligent when it comes to addressing the needs of black people.”

Loftin with Nicky Jennings, the PrEP Education Specialist at Upstate, co-hosted a talent showcase in April to give local teens a space to perform and to provide HIV awareness education. Photo courtesy The Stand.

Karen says state-funded grants like the one PEACE received, and which is still under review for renewal, aren’t always designed to help the community.

“It all comes down to politics,” she said.

She says working in some sort of human service capacity is the perfect job for someone who has just left prison, because many organizations are looking for people who can form meaningful connections with members of the community going through similar problems. It is also a way for ex-prisoners to redeem themselves by improving their community.

“We need to be willing to seize whatever opportunities we can find, rather than wait to be given them,” Karen said. “By being the generation before them, we started this problem and it’s going to take us to fix it.”

Structural reform is a much-needed development in Syracuse, particularly when it comes to prison management and community outreach, Karen says.

“There is a need for therapeutic assistance, community outreach and counseling, especially for young adults about to move away from home,” Karen said. “This is when they develop their perceptions of the world and their place in it. After that, their way of life is set and it’s harder to change them.”

Not too long after getting involved in PEACE, Karen enrolled at Syracuse University and graduated with a bachelor’s degree in child and family studies in 2017. Her degree sits in her living room, illuminated by the lamp next to it. It’s a source of great pride for her.

Karen hopes to use her degree to start her own youth center in the future. She believes there needs to be more centers that provide emotional support and resources for Syracuse’s youth — a place where children from troubled households can feel safe and appreciated.

Through her youth center, Karen hopes to instill a renewed sense of togetherness in her community. Her primary goal is to focus on youth and family development — strengthening relationships between children and their parents.

Gazing at the hail that has unexpectedly started to fall outside her window, I ask Karen if she plans to stay in Syracuse forever.

She smiles for a moment. “I’m here for now,” she answers.

“I recently asked an old friend of mine who owns a business here, why are you still here?” she shared. “You know what he told me? If everyone left, there’ll be no one to keep this town running, and the kids in this community are going to suffer,” she said.

Finding Herself

When Karen was little, she struggled with her dark complexion. It was a source of great insecurity for her.

“One of those days, I remember my grandma pulling me onto her lap and telling me ‘God makes no mistakes. No one is better than you in the eyes of God, but always remember, you’re not better than anyone either,’” she said.

Karen’s confidence is something she has developed over time, and she is well aware that people have judged her and will perhaps never stop judging her.

One of the last times we meet, I ask her what she would say to people who made assumptions about her. She doesn’t think twice before responding.

“I probably wouldn’t say anything,” she said. “I’ve never been one to try and convince someone that I’m someone I’m not. I’ve definitely made some mistakes in my life, and I might agree with some things people say and disagree with others, but I’m not going to have that conversation. It’d be a waste of time.”

Instead, Karen has a message for the whole world.

“If you come into contact with young people that are struggling, and their dreams have somehow turned, just encourage them to not give up,” she says, looking directly into the video camera recording her.

“I think that’s an important thing we can all do.”

Watch a Video of Karen Loftin

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See also Part One of the series, ‘The Day I Came Out of the Shadows’

This is a condensed and slightly edited version of a story published in The Stand, a community newspaper produced in Syracuse, N.Y., in partnership with S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications. Ashley Kang, director of The Stand, is a 2018 John Jay/H.F. Guggenheim Justice Reporting Fellow. Readers’ comments are welcome.

Seizing a Second Chance: An Ex-Inmate Brings Hope Back to Her Community syndicated from https://immigrationattorneyto.wordpress.com/

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