#( and he was running out of time to evict hunger anyways. hunger was so close to consuming everything pax was ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scullysexual · 4 years ago

Text

hunger games au (with mulder and scully)

Just a little self-indulgence fic and an idea that wouldn’t leave me alone. I’m sorta proud of it rn and decided to post it. This is pretty much for myself and I’m not gonna much in terms of making sure everyone reads it. If you like it, feel free to let me know if not bye. Not much is gonna be changed in terms of plot, this is literally going to be fanfiction in it’s finest form. It might have elements of a crossover if I can’t find the appropriate xf character to play the hunger games character but we’ll see. Words: 2809.

- - -

There’s nothing there except a swirling black void, harsh waves crashing, screams of men, and a father drowning in the sea.

Dana wakes just before her father goes under. Her stomach tightly coiled with a realisation that her consciousness has yet to remember.

It’s chilly, the tips of Dana’s fingers red raw from the cold night. She tucks them beneath the blankets and rolls over to the other side. Adjacent to her lies her sister, buried beneath three blankets. Only the tip of her noise is really visible, the rest of her obscured by blankets or vibrant red hair.

Not too far away is her younger brother spread out in the space left by their elder. And finally, on the double bed near the corner, her mother sleeps.

Dana rises, pulling off the covers and bracing the chill. She dresses quickly and quietly, careful not to wake her remaining family members. She pulls on yesterday’s clothes, her boots, clips her hair back in its familiar style and heads towards the kitchen.

“Morning.”

Bill Jr. sits at the table, lacing up his shoes, his miner’s hat beside him.

His presence startles Dana.

“I thought you’d be gone by now,” Dana says. She makes her way towards the jug of water.

“I’m going now,” he tells her.

Bill stands almost immediately after and picks up his hat.

“There’s not a lot of bread left. Make sure you leave enough for Mom, Missy, and Charlie.”

Dana’s eyes move to the basket holding the bread. Bill was right, there’s barely any left. She adds trading with the baker onto her mental list of things to do today.

Bill hasn’t gotten far down the street before Dana’s following him but he doesn’t slow down to walk with her or even take note that she’s behind him. It’s no bother to Dana anyway, as he turns left, she turns right, headed towards the woods.

Technically, entering this area of the District is illegal. Hunting and trading is high on the list of crimes and the punishment for it is death. At least it should be. Most turn a blind-eye to it. The Peacekeepers that guard the city are just as poor and hungry as many of the other residents and while only a few will venture into the woods themselves to procure food and plants, they won’t say anything if they catch you trading.

It’s the Capitol you really need to look out for and their cameras. While it’s not been confirmed, it’s rumoured that they hide cameras so as to spy on the Districts. Dana has yet to find any cameras walking around town and with the fence meant to keep wild animals out, she doubts there would be any cameras in the woods.

But still, she bares it in mind when she enters.

There was a time when she didn’t need to hunt. There was a time she didn’t live in the Seam. Most residents of District 12 are miners however her father was one of the fortunate ones not to have that profession. He was a sailor, in charge of carting coal in a ship back and forth to the Capitol. He was also one of the rare ones to be allowed to leave.

He used to say the Scullys were for fit for District 4- the fishing district. There was even some speculation that the family was from there originally and somehow ended up in this district.

She can still the remember the house they lived in, caught between the Merchant Town and the Seam. Her only problem back then was having a sense that she didn’t belong anywhere. Too poor for the Merchant Town residents, too rich for the Seam residents. Even when they had to move, the Seam residents still viewed her as one of the more fortunate ones.

The move had been caused by the death of her father. Caught in a storm just off District 4, his ship had capsized, killing all members onboard. The family had been notified of his death via an eviction notice. Her mother had crumbled, becoming just a shell of her former self. Billy had tried to become the man of the house and, in theory, he was but he was too much of a rule abider and even when things began to take a sharper turn for the worse, he still wouldn’t venture into the woods to hunt. Melissa was just too soft to hunt. Dana had tried to teach her but Missy had started crying at the sight of the wounded creature. Charlie, the youngest, was just too young at the time. He was seven- too scared and confused to really do it anything. So it had all fallen down to Dana, at eleven years old, her stomach grumbling, it came down to her to get the food on the table and it had been that way ever since.

Dana follows the path of stamped grass and weeds all the way to the entrance to the woods. Not a real entrance, just heavy-duty netting that’s been ripped and nobody’s bothered to fix. The fence is supposed to be electrified all day, every day but there’s barely enough electricity to power the important buildings, nobody wants to waste it on this. Still though, Dana listens for the faint buzzing and if there isn’t one, it’s safe and she sneaks through.

The woods don’t scare her anymore. There are still the wild animals lurking about but as soon as she’s armed with her dagger and spear she feels practically invincible against them.

She reaches for her weapons now, hidden behind a fallen tree, deep down in a hole. It’s nothing fancy, metal is hard to come by so the spear is just pieces of wood stuck together but it’s effective and sharp and does the job.

Her dagger, however, is the real treasure. On one of her father’s trips a man had given it to him and when her father returned he kept it hidden from the rest of his family, presenting it to her the first time they came out here.

While they had no reason to hunt when her father was alive, her dad had still taught her to. That had surprised her, he always appeared much like Bill Jr., always following the laws. Until Bill, however, William Scully was smart. He knew his profession made him stand out against the miners, knew the Capitol would see him as a looming problem, knew that one of these days his time would be up, his family would finally suffer the consequences and they would need every help they could get.

The dagger was expensive. A green and gold handle with real sharp steel at the end of it. They would have a lot of anything they wished for if Dana sold it but none of her family members knew about it and it was the last gift her father ever gave her.

“What took you so long?”

Dana turns to see Ethan standing behind her, already prepared with his bow on his back and his own wooden spear at his side. He was the closest thing she had to a friend, having found each other the first time Dana fully ventured into the woods without her father. She had been scared when she saw him, tried to run for it but fell over instead. Ethan had been furious, screaming at her that she had scared his dinner away. Dana felt tears prick her eyes but she would not cry even as he called her stupid and useless. Finally he asked what she was here for.

“To hunt,” Dana said meekly.

Ethan had laughed, shaking his head and walked away.

A few days past since at incident and she hadn’t seen him again, not until she was trying to kill a rabbit. Leaning against a tree, watching her struggle. He hadn’t announced himself, for the longest time Dana didn’t even know he was behind her but an arrow had pierced the rabbits head and that’s when she spun around and saw him.

After that they became hunting partners. He would shoot the smaller animals with his arrows, her the bigger animals with her spear. Eventually, Dana had mastered stealth. She knew how to sneak up on the animals without startling it and kill it with her dagger.

She also looked for plants, too. Some for eating, some for healing. There were no hospitals here, most replied solely on homecare or you could pay a visit to the Scullys where they would stitch you up and allow you to live a little longer.

And that was her day. Hunting animals and trading in the early mornings, school till three o’clock, and a healer in the evenings.

All except today.

“How are you feeling?” Ethan asks as they begin their usual route through the woods.

Dana thinks back to the way her stomach coiled when she woke. The worry for herself, for her family. For Ethan and his family.

“How everyone feels on this day,” she answers.

This day. By law, written as a holiday but in reality it is as far away from one as possible. School is shut, businesses close early, everyone meets at the Square by 2pm, dressed in their best preparing themselves to cry themselves to sleep or sigh in relief that they have survived another year.

“We’ve been lucky this far,” says Ethan with a shrug.

It’s all bravado, she knows. He’s just as worried as she is. But she has gotten lucky. Three siblings and herself and not once since becoming of age has any of them got chosen. Still, each year becomes more nerve-wrecking. Melissa’s eighteen, her name is in that box eight times. Bill’s aged out, thank god. Dana lost count how many times her name has been entered (taking tesserae means your name is added each time as a trade but there’s only enough for one person so Dana’s had to take out one for each member of her family already making her name being entered four times more. The tesserae given out isn’t enough to last which means taking out more and in return her name being entered multiple times more). It’s only Charlie, who only turned twelve last month, who’s name has been entered once. He’s the least of her worries.

Ethan isn’t much better. While he only has an older brother, who has also now aged out, he’s just as poor as her, his name is also in that box more than it should be.

“Come on,” says Ethan pulling her thoughts away from boxes and names. “Let’s focus on hunting. Maybe find something nice to celebrate later.”

Dana watches him walk off for a moment, temporarily stunned.

“You’re really not worried?” she asks.

He stops and looks over to her, his eyes scarily vacant.

“We don’t need to worry till 2.”

He’s right, Dana realises. Worry makes her clumsy, loud, and if she wants her family and herself to eat tonight, she needs to push that worry away.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Dana pushes the front door open carrying her winnings in a bag at her side. She’d done good today, most people at the Hob were anxious to sell before they had to shut down for the day. In the woods, she had managed to kill three squirrels, earning her one and a half loafs of bread from the baker, a few coins for selling the strawberries, and even a turkey to eat tonight. The greens she found, she kept herself, rabbit pelts she traded for a blanket, and a few herbs to add to the medicine cabinet.

Melissa greets her when she enters, already dressed in what looks to be one of their mother’s old dresses from when she was younger. Her hair is pulled back and braided in parts. She looks beautiful but then Melissa always looks beautiful no matter what.

“Dana’s back!” she calls.

“Send her in!” Mom shouts back.

Melissa takes the bag, putting the stuff away and Dana enters the bedroom here her mother is currently having a fight with Charlie’s hair.

“Put that on.” She nods to the floral dress laying on the bed.

Dana hates dresses but it’s almost customary to wear one. That or a skirt. Something feminine.

“That’s gonna have to do.” Maggie pats Charlie on the shoulder telling him he can go. “Is Bill back yet?” Maggie asks.

“He wasn’t in the kitchen,” Dana answers as she climbs into the dress.

“I don’t want us being late,” Maggie mutters.

Her mother almost becomes unbearable on this day. Stressing and running around like times is going to go quicker just because it’s today. They could have a whole 24 hours and she’ll still be worrying that if someone isn’t back at this time it’s just going to make them late.

Once dressed, Dana sits as Maggie pulls the clips out of her hair along with leaves and dirt.

“If you’d come back sooner you’d have had time to bathe.”

“Sorry, I was out getting our dinner for tonight.” There’s a harshness to Dana’s tone as she says the words. She still felt a slight resentment towards her mother. She went away in many of her children’s eyes, leaving them to fend for themselves. Had it not been for Dana, Maggie would have watched all her children die of starvation and not done anything about it while she withered away herself.

Her mother’s proclaims of she was grieving weren’t a good enough excuse for Dana. They were all grieving after all, all coming to terms with his new life, yet they didn’t stay in bed all day.

Her mother was better now but Dana was waiting for the day she would disappear again. It happened once, it can happen again.

There’s a slight tug on her hair in response to her words and Dana tells herself to keep quiet.

Melissa enters and seats herself on the other stool. Her presence is sure to stop any more awkward conversations and stray comment between Dana and their mother.

“You okay?” Missy asks.

Dana nods. She tries to draw on Ethan’s strength, his optimism.

“Lasted this long, haven’t I?”

Melissa smiles. “One more year and it’s over.” She’s talking about herself. One more year and it is over for her. She no longer has to worry. She just has to suit up for the mines or follow her mother and become an official healer.

A silence passes over all three women for a moment. Dana watches her mother braid her hair in the mirror, Melissa messes with one of the clips her sister was wearing earlier. It’s quiet except for the sound of the door opening and Charlie saying hi to their brother. There’s a bit of chatter between the two by the door but nothing the girls really pay attention to.

“It’s barbaric.”

Dana’s eyes widen and Melissa stops playing with the clip. They eye each other in shock as if their mother has just broken the law or something.

In some cases, she just did.

Negative words aren’t supposed to be said about the Games, even in the safety of their houses. They’re a holiday, a festivity meant to be enjoyed and looked forward to.

At least that is the case in the Capitol and the Career Districts.

In all the others, the Games are seen, as their mother just said, as barbaric. Brutal, cruel, and vicious. To put 24 kids in an arena and watch them fight to the death is viewed with the heaviest of contempt. But it’s a punishment and a reminder of a history that can’t be forgotten.

“You should watch what you say,” says Dana calmly. “People could be listening.”

Melissa’s eyes look wearily around the room as if trying to find who could be listening. Dana doesn’t believe they are but on a day like today, she couldn’t be completely sure about that.

“You’re done,” says Maggie moving away. “I’ll make sure Bill looks presentable and then we’ll leave.”

Dana runs her hand through the braid, silently admiring her mother’s work.

“Do you really think they’re listening to us?” Melissa whispers. “Patty Bullock said that at school once. Nobody believed her but…”

“They film everything today, don’t they?” Dana says, her attention still on her hair. “Do you really think they start at 2?”

It was almost unheard of for Dana to speak like this but she had her doubts about the validity of this theory. Still, it was good to be mindful of it’s possible truth.

“You sound like a boy in my class,” says Melissa. “His nickname is Spooky.”

The door opens with Charlie telling them it’s time to go. They follow each other out, headed for the Square, and Dana doesn’t think much more of this Spooky.

#my little self-indulgence fic #hunger games au #i write

16 notes · View notes

deejadabbles · 5 years ago

Text

Crime and Consequence (Atem x Reader) Chapter 2

Two: The Avenger

One //// Two //// Three //// Four //// [Five coming soon]

Summary: Years have passed since Atem's crimes came to light. Years have passed, but in some cases the wounds of that time were still fresh. Despite that, however, you've done your best to rebuild your life for you...and for your son. So, when Atem's crimes come back to hurt you and your boy, how will you survive and protect what little you have left?

Years have passed since Atem last saw you. Years have passed, and he had never been able to meet his son. Despite that, Atem carried on with his life, as limited and meaningless as it was, locked away for his crimes. So, when a threat is made against the only ones he still holds dear, how will he defend the love of his life and his boy?

(Modern, season 0 inspired AU. Contains some disturbing themes, depictions of violence, cursing/vulgar language, and sexual content.)

A.N. I usually keep it ambiguous in my AUs, whether my versions of Domino are based on western, or Japanese cultures, and I'm doing the same thing here. Though I'm using the Japnese versions of the character's names, the way I portray the prison system in this chapter (as well as the next) is likely more contemporary with American prisons. Just thought I'd warn you guys about that since I know next to nothing about Japanese prisons and for the purpose of the story is had to make it more American.

Dan was still getting used to his job, but the longer his first week went by, the more he was certain that he just wouldn’t ‘get used’ to it at all. The Domino City Penitentiary- more commonly called “Burngate”, was one scary-ass place, to put it mildly. Dan knew the risk of working in the buildings where they housed the city’s worst, literally worst, criminals, but with so few jobs out there, he figured the high risk was worth it. Better than getting evicted from his apartment and ending up on the streets anyway.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was a guard, hell, he was pretty much a glorified errand boy for the prison. Like his task today for instance: mail delivery. So long as he widely ignored the mild threats and graphic comments the inmates threw at him as he passed their mail into their cells, it wasn’t too bad. Dan was actually surprised with how many inmates got mail in the first place, though most only had one letter, maybe two if they were lucky. Why anyone would take time to write letters to these monsters was beyond him.

But there was one stack that had caught Dan’s interest as he made his rounds through the prison. A stack of mail six letters thick, all heading for the same cell. They didn’t all bear the same name, one was even addressed to “the savior”, so Dan kept telling himself it was probably just split among two cellmates who were good at keeping girlfriends on the outside or something. Still, as the stack of bulging envelopes stood stark against the dwindling piles on his cart, Dan wondered.

Finally he came to that lonely little cell, and the fading name card beside the door simply read “Inmate 27748, Atem Mutou”. Finding himself suddenly nervous, Dan stepped closer to the door and peered in through the small, barred window.

Inside was a man, much younger and scrawnier looking than he had expected, sitting cross-legged with his back against the far wall. Wild hair sporting several colors stuck up in crazed spikes and Dan knew the hair could easily add to any deranged look that might come across that youthful face. His eyes were closed as if he was sleeping or meditating and Dan had the sudden urge to bolt past the cell before the guy woke up and saw-

Violet eyes snapped open to meet Dan’s and the poor worker actually jumped at the sudden action. Too late to run now. Though, the urge to do just that increased tenfold when the man’s lips curled into a smirk, eyes lighting up.

“You’re new,” the inmate said simply, smile never leaving his face.

Dan felt his heart pounding in his ears as the man rose to his feet with a grace that was almost eerie. As he took a step closer to the door Dan didn’t resist the urge to step back.

The man- Atem, made a tutting noise as he came as close to the door and Dan as he could. “Come now, there’s no need to be scared. You have my word that I mean you no harm.” When Dan only answered with an audible gulp, Atem sighed and continued. “Look up my name or ask around and you’ll find that I only kill scum who’ve escaped justice. So,” Atem’s eyes traveled down to the nametag pinned to his shirt, “Dan, as long as you aren’t a murderer, rapist, pedophile, or any other example of human vermin blighting the earth, you have no reason to fear me.” The smirk that was getting creepier by the second actually softened a bit as Atem’s eyes peered down at the mail cart. “Besides, I wish to be friends with anyone who brings me my only contact to the outside world.”

Somehow feeling a bit more at ease, or at least enough to regain his curiosity, Dan grabbed the stack of mail and prepped to pass it through the meal slot in the door. “That’s a lot of letters for one guy, I figured you had to have a cellmate or two.”

Atem hummed, “No, this cell is all my own. The warden seems to be under the impression that I would find a way to kill any criminal they put in here with me.” The smirk turned to one that sent a cold shiver down Dan’s spine, “And given the kind of animals that are housed here, I think that’s a fair impression to have.” With that Atem snatched the letters from the slot and snapped it shut. “Thank you for delivering my mail. Now, I won’t keep you from your job any longer, I hope you stay safe during your employment here, Dan.”

Atem watched as the man scurried off without another word or a backwards glance and almost felt guilty for scaring him. He supposed he couldn’t help it anymore, five years in this pit had taken its toll on his social skill, among other things. He truly was grateful though, and turned to the letters with hope bubbling in his chest.

He flipped through them all, eyes scanning over the handwriting with an odd kind of hunger. He recognized most of the scrawls in an instant, one was new and another only vaguely familiar- but hot anger and disappointment rose in his chest when he went through all six and didn’t see the handwriting he truly longed for.

In a moment of madness, he growled and threw the papers across the room! He couldn’t help it, he was angry and desperate- he was at the end of his rope! Almost a year since your last letter, a year since he got to see the words your lovely hands crafted just for him, a year since he got to hear about his son. The beautiful baby boy you both made before his life went to hell.

Didn’t you realize your letters were the only bright light in his imprisonment? Didn’t you know every week that passed without your written words were hell for him?!

Atem caught himself before another harsh thought crossed his mind, it wasn’t fair to think those things of you. To calm his suddenly ragged breathing, he closed his eyes and took in a few deep breaths, remembering his mantra. He couldn’t be impatient with you. You had your own life, a life you had to live and provide for without him. You had responsibilities, his son paramount among them, he couldn't blame you for neglecting to write to him.

Besides, Atem was no delusion fool. He knew the only reason you wrote him and sent him pictures of Yugi at all was because you thought it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t some romantic gesture of devotion on your part. Some part of him hoped and clung to the idea that somewhere, deep in the heart he had broken, you still loved him; but the letters were not sent because you were still clinging to him and the life you had before.

Despite that, despite all of that, he still held tight to every word you wrote him as if they were his life line- the only things making his life here worth while. Atem sighed, slumped against his cell door, and ran a hand over his face, a pitiful feeling rolling in his chest. Honestly, he was lucky you wrote to him at all, considering what had happened the last time he saw you.

His leg was shaking. It was a sign of nerves that he had never exhibited before. Of all the panic-inducing things that had happened to him this past week, he supposed it made sense this was the most nerve-wracking. The detectives who questioned him were pitiful, bearly worth the sweat on his brow as they tried to intimidate a confession out of him. It was only because one of them had the gall to threaten the love of his life that they got him to confess to more than the one murder they witnessed him committing. Then the others in the jail they kept him in were even more pitiful. Thugs who tried to threaten and scare him through the bars of their cells like children playing bully in a schoolyard. They realized very quickly that they were nothing when he showed them just how much damage he could do even with the bars separating them. None of that had made him this nervous, even as the threat of life in prison, or execution itself loomed over his head.

None of it had scared him more than facing you.

There was a buzzing sound and his eyes snapped up from the metal table to watch the barred door of the visiting room. A moment later it opened, and there you stood.

You looked unwell. Eyes red and tired looking, as if you hadn’t slept in days and spent all the waking moments crying. Perhaps that was exactly the hell you had been through. He had no idea what the detectives had told you, or what the news anchors were saying about his crimes. And he had no idea how you were taking the truths of his sins being brought to light.

As you stepped into the secured room he stood, tried to hold his hands out to you- but the chains clasped to his wrists yanked him back down. Something flashed in your eyes as they lingered on the cuffs. It must have hurt, seeing him like this.

“Kitten,” he whispered, trying desperately to draw your attention back to him and away from the shackles. But when your eyes met his, he saw a fury in them that made him want to recoil.

“Don’t call me that.”

Shame reared its head and all he could do was nod, waiting for you to take the seat across from him. He never took his eyes off of you as you approached the table and bench, casting a wary glance at the armed officers standing in the corners of the room. This was all wrong, someone as pure and precious as you shouldn’t be subjected to a place like this.

When you sat, a thick and stale silence hovered between you both. He didn’t want to speak first, lest he say the wrong thing and bring out your ire again, so he continued to wait.

Eventually, you let out a shaky breath and shook your head.

“I don’t know what to say or where to start.”

He heard the strain in your voice, the tears threatening to break through. In all your years together, only once before had he done something foolish enough to make you cry and he still felt twinges of guilt at the memory. How long would this haunt him? How long until the pain of knowing how much he hurt you faded?

“Please, my love, please let me explain.”

“Explain why you confessed to murdering thirty people?” you snapped. “I couldn’t believe it at first, when they brought me in for questioning. I couldn’t believe that my noble, sweet Atem did anything they were accusing you of. But then you confessed- you confessed to it all!”

All he could do was look back at you and he was sure his eyes were desperate and pleading. If it wasn’t for these damned chains he would pull you into his arms and hold you- let you cry and beat on his chest all you wanted, let you take whatever vengeance you wanted from him for making you feel this way.

After another minute, you ask in a simple and tired tone, “Why?”

“Because I couldn’t save Yugi.” For all the complexity of his crimes, his reasoning really was simple. “He was taken from us, killed like- like an animal, and his murderer was let go. They let the filth that killed my little brother go, because of a technicality.”

He couldn’t keep the anger from clawing through his voice. Even now, years and years later, he still felt the raw pain and rage over Yugi’s death. His little brother was as pure and bright as the sun, never causing or wishing anyone harm, always doing what was right and kind even when others didn’t deserve it. And what had the world done to reward his kindness? He was beaten and cut up by a psychopath who preyed on teenage boys. A psychopath that was free to kill again because of an error in the investigation, a mistake that made the case against him null and void.

Atem saw a numbed version of understanding in your eyes while he spoke, as if he had confirmed something the back of your mind had already told you. Did you forgive him, then? Did you understand his need for justice? You had loved Yugi like a brother, you had known him even longer than you had known Atem himself. So then, did a part of you forgive his bloody actions, understanding first hand how devastating Yugi’s death had been?

“I thought that was why,” you whispered, “when they said Chopman was one of your victims, I thought...I tried to tell them that you may have killed him but-...but thirty other people, Atem?”

“Not people, monsters,” he corrected in a careful, delicate tone, “monsters like the thing that took Yugi from us. When I killed him it-”

He averted his eyes from yours, his explanation becoming jumbled and desperate in his head. He took a moment to recollect, and he thought about keeping his eyes downcast as he explained the rest, but no, you deserved to be looked in the eye, no matter how much it killed him to see your horror.

“When I killed him, it didn’t help. I had this...void in me, this darkness that kept telling me others just like him were out there. Killers and predators that were walking free to hurt more people… And that I had to be the one who brought them to justice, I was the was one who could put a stop to their killing and raping and drug pedaling and-” He drew in a sharp breath. He had gotten carried away, the look in your eyes had shifted, but he wasn’t sure he could read it.

One thing was certain though, he was scaring you. No matter how you felt about the people he killed, his words were scaring you. After all, you had never seen a side of him that was this...disturbing.

“I never hurt an innocent person.” It was a desperate move. A truth that he was bringing out because above all, above what anyone else thought of him, the idea of you being disgusted with him tore him apart inside. “I was always careful to never endangered an innocent life. If you believe anything I say, please believe that I wasn’t so mad as to hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.”

“I’m not the only one who knows that,” you said in a tone devoid of any particular strong emotion. Your eyes shifted to the small window placed high on the wall, “did they tell you that people are gathering outside the jail, holding up signs supporting you? They’re calling you The Avenger.”

He had heard. Even through the thick concrete walls, he heard the cheering and shouting from his cell- but he didn’t care about all that! Right now the only person he gave a damn about was you. The only opinion that mattered to him at all, was yours!

“A lot are going to think you’re a hero.” Your eyes finally turned back to meet his.

He held your gaze, careful and steady, “And what do you think?”

He watched as your eyes finally glossed over with a sheen of tears. Only one broke free to run down your cheek as you whispered, lowly, almost broken, “I don’t know.”

His hands reacted, reaching out to you, longing- needing to hold you, to wipe away the tears and make amends. But again the shackles stopped him, clanging in an ear-splitting wrench as they slid and caught on the metal table. You flinched at the sound, or...or were you flinching away from him? Nails clawed at his chest at the thought, at the idea that you were scared of him. That you ever thought he could harm you .

He barely registered that the guards had surged forward at his action, but seeing that his chains stopped him, were hanging back, observing and ready to strike.

“I’m sorry.” He had never sounded so desperate, but Atem didn’t care. “I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to-”

“Stop!”

He flinched that time, you were at the end of your rope, angry and hurt and scared. All of it was there in your tone.

“You’re sorry?” you accused, appalled disbelief etched on your face. “How many times did you lie to me to cover up this- this sick mission of yours? How many times did you come home and put hands on me right after murdering someone? You ‘never meant to hurt me’? From what I can tell you weren’t thinking of anyone but yourself- your needs!” You jumped to your feet, glaring down at him with that righteous fury. “Did you know Jonouchi might be kicked off the force because of his ties to you? Do you know how many people have sent me death threats and cussed me out on the street because they think I knew what you were doing this whole time? Even throwing aside the moral question of what you did, every crime you admitted to is bleeding over onto everyone you love!”

He jumped to his feet as well, “Everything I did was to protect others!” he was angry, ashamed, confused and- so many other damn things and his head was spinning! “I’ll make this right- I’ll- I’ll find a way, but don’t ever question why I did the things I did. I wanted justice for all those victims, I wanted to stop any more harm from being done! And I won’t let you or Jonouchi or anyone else pay for my crimes, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you, I’ll-”

“I’m pregnant!”

His mind stalled. The words, blurted out almost frantically, rang in his ears….Pregnant?

More tears were rolling down your cheeks now, and after a moment of silence, you threw your hands in defeat, body practically going limp; all the fight slowly draining from you. “I was going to tell you on our next date night. Was going to plan this big romantic reveal...to tell you we were having a baby.” You looked at him as if you didn’t know him anymore, and only held his gaze for a slow heartbeat, “Now I don’t know what to do.”

And with that, you turned away. He blinked to snap out of his stupor and called out your name, but you didn’t look back. The officer by the door jumped to open it for you, giving the others a gesture to take the prisoner away. Even as they grabbed his arms he called for you, but you kept your back turned to him. He started to struggle, as if he had any chance to break free, chase after you, and make this even an ounce better. He must have sounded deranged as he screamed your name over and over, until the door slammed shut behind you.

Atem scrubbed his hands over his face again, the memory still raw and painful in his mind. At the time, he thought that was the end, that that was the last we would ever hear of you and the child you were supposed to have and raise together. For six months he went through life in a haze, his sentencing, his transfer to Burngate, the stunts he had to pull in order to show the scum here that he was not to be trifled with, all of it. He admitted that he became a bit more...brutal in those months. The other prisoners who tried to jump him to make an example of him or take their revenge for some associate he had killed met a very...bloody end. More bloody than he had extended to the criminals he was put in there for killing. In truth, he simply didn’t give a damn about much of anything at that point.

But then, he received your first letter.

It was a simple thing, short, but enough to make him regain his sense of self, even just a bit. “I thought long and hard about this,” you had written, “but in the end, you’re still his father and you deserve to know him, even if it’s from afar.” And with the letter, was a picture of a beautiful newborn baby, wrapped in a deep purple blanket, eyes closed and little pink face passive with sleep. “I named him Yugi. If he becomes half the man his uncle and namesake was, then I know we’ll both be proud.”

Atem smiled at the thought of that first picture. The warm expanse of emotions that rose in his chest at the sight of his boy, his son. But there was also regret. And anger. He had no one to blame but himself, and because of his actions you had to raise their little one on your own. He had no worries that you couldn’t, but, the fact that him building a happy, loving home with you was now unattainable broke his heart. And the saddest part? He had been so close, so damn close to stopping. Quitting his ‘bloody mission’ and focusing on his future with you.

Too little too late, he supposed.

“You awake in there, creep?”

Atem, who’s eyes had been scanning over one of the letters he had gotten that day, barely moved the paper enough to look at his door’s window. It was Ushio. One of the guards who showed just how cruel men could be when they had power over another. He was always looking for an excuse to beat prisoners half to death. Even relished when there were riots despite how often they resulted in the deaths of his coworkers.

Ushio snarled when all Atem did was stare from his reclined position on the bed. “Put your girly poems away, you got a visitor.”

A visitor? But, who? No one had ever been given authorization to visit him, as prisoners in this penitentiary were rarely given that privilege and visitors had to be thoroughly screened before getting permission.

Carefully, Atem folded the letter and put it on his bed before rising. “And who may I ask, wants to see me?”

A nasty smirk covered Ushio’s face. “You’ll find out soon enough, creep.”

Accompanied by three other guards, Ushio led Atem down the stark hallways of the prison and as they walked, Atem wondered. None of his old friends had contacted him since his sentencing, sadly, so he doubted it was any of them. You wouldn’t come to visit him without mentioning it in a letter, surely...unless something was very wrong.

Atem shook the thought from his mind. It had to be one of his fans. Many had expressed interest in meeting him face to face and some were surely determined enough to jump through the hoops required to get put on the visitor’s list.

When they were buzzed through the several doors that blocked off the visiting rooms from the main prison, Ushio gave a silent nod to the other guards, who promptly scurried off down the hallway. That caught Atem’s interest too. Never was a prisoner allowed to be with a visitor with only one guard to contain any ‘trouble’. Ushio made no comment of the fact, only turning and opening the thick metal door.

It was a private visiting room, yet another abnormality, and inside there was only one man. Atem instantly recognized the look of a two-bit thug. He was looking at Atem over the rim of expensive-looking sunglasses, one hand clutched tight over a case of sorts, the other playing idly with the gold chains on his neck. His head was shaved, with a gaudy tattoo of a snake in place of hair, another tattoo of a scorpion crawling down his neck. He smiled at Atem with a look of knowing and anticipation, as if he had been waiting for this meeting for some time. Atem only stared back, stone-faced and still.

When Ushio moved to cuff Atem to the table in the room, the man waved him off. “Don’t bother with those. I ain't afraid of this punk.” He then stepped closer to Ushio and presented a wad of twenties to him, “As promised. Just make sure you give me the room for as long as I need it.”

Ushio chuckled and took the money, stuffing it inside his jacket pocket. “Gladly.”

With that, Ushio walked out, closed the door, and left Atem alone with the lowlife. Said thug stared at Atem for a long moment, looking rather satisfied. “You know who I am?”

“A drug dealing roach who thinks he’s something special?” Atem said in a bored tone.

The roach in question only scoffed at him, “Names Haru...Haru Hirutani.”

Ah, Hirutani, now that did trip something in Atem’s memory. A tall, blonde crime lord who met his end face down in a puddle of rainwater, with lethal currents of electricity running through his body. Atem had come very close to ridding Domino of the entire Rintama gang that night, but knew that many had escaped his grasp. He always hoped that taking out the heads of the gang was enough. Apparently he had missed one.

“You killed my brother,” the thug said, face dropping some of that smug contentment and shifting to something even more sinister.

“And now you’re here to gloat over my incarceration?” Atem asked, still sounding rather bored. “Or are you going to try getting your payback with your fists?”

Again Hirutani scoffed, “Nah. I’m here because my revenge’s been five years in the making. I finally have all the power and money I need to make you pay for what you did to him. Took a long time for me to rebuild my brother’s empire, but now it’s even greater than he imagined.”

Atem smirked at that. “Empire? Your brother was gutter trash who built his reputation by selling drugs to children.” Spurred on by the memories- the righteous anger he felt when he saw what that rat did to literal children, Atem narrowed his eyes at the man before him and leaned in. He looked the second Hirutani brother in the eyes as he said, tone low and dangerous, “Your brother deserved everything I did to him.”

To Atem’s surprise, the man only smirked. “And your girl is gonna deserve everything I do to her.”

Atem felt his blood go cold, but he tried his damnedest to make sure the surprise and fear didn’t show on his face. Before Atem could reply, Hirutani turned and walked over to the table in the room, opened the case in his hands and started setting papers on the metal surface. No, not papers, pictures.

“I could do something mainstream and simple, like pay the guards to look the other way while I put holes in you right here, but I ain’t a fool.” the thug said, still with that smirk as Atem walked closer until the pictures were in view.

His heart was thundering in his ears now. They were all of you, and of Yugi. You, walking in the dark parking lot of the hospital. Yugi, playing games on a small apartment porch. Both of you eating icecream as you walked down the sidewalk together. A mother tucking her sleepy son into bed, taken through a bedroom window.

“See, I know with a man like you, it don’t matter if I stab you or beat you,” Hirutani continued, voice full of malicious glee. “Nah, the real pain is knowing the people you love are gonna pay instead.”

“Stay away from them,” Atem growled, losing his grip, rage and fury taking over. How easy it would be to end this scum right here and now. Half a dozen means of doing just that flashed through his mind, most of which could be done before Ushio could get that door open- but no, he had to keep a grip on himself. Chances were this man had a legion of lackeys who would hurt the love of Atem’s life and his son for nothing but to honor their boss’ reputation.

“They go to the park every Wednesday and Saturday,” Hirutani continued, unperturbed by Atem’s threat as he pulled out another picture. This one was of you pushing Yugi on a swing in a small park surrounded by trees and wildflowers. “And they walk home down a nice isolated road.” He gave a perverse hum of appreciation. “Hm, she’s a real looker. I’m gonna have a lot of fun with her. But I ain’t a monster, the kid- cute kid by the way, real happy boy, now him, I’ll make sure he goes quick. Won’t hardly suffer at all. Your girl on the other hand,” he whistled, then looked Atem in the eyes as if to silently convey all his sick plans. “And I’ll enjoy every second of it.” He flashed Atem that sick smile. “What I’ll enjoy more though, is how much it’ll kill you, knowing it’s all your fault, and being stuck in here, helpless to stop it.”

Despite the fire in his veins and all the violent thoughts running through his mind, Atem kept calm. Despite how much he wanted to set this- this parasite ablaze and watch him burn for even thinking of harming you or the son you shared, despite it all, Atem kept calm. He had always been a man of strategy, it was what kept him and his mission going for so long. Attacking the thug now would feel good, but it wouldn’t save you and Yugi, and being thrown into solitary confinement would hinder the plan that was already forming in his mind.

So, instead, Atem smiled and got a rush of satisfaction when something faltered in Hirutani’s eyes. “Are you sure I’m so helpless to stop you?”

That scared the punk. He stepped back and ran a suddenly nervous hand over his tattooed head. “Even if you try to shank me right now, my guys will go ahead with my plan, just like I told them to.”

“I know.” Atem was enjoying this. Watching the rat squirm and wonder. And he was going to enjoy making him pay for threatening the only things that mattered to him anymore. “I’m going to make what I did to your brother look tame and merciful.”

“You’re just making this worse for your girl and kid,” Hirutani spat, then called for Ushio at the top of his lungs. “You're gonna regret all of this, Mutou!”

Atem said nothing as Ushio opened the door and grabbed him by the arm. He kept his eyes, as well as his smirk, on Hirutani as the guards pulled him away.

Ushio said nothing as they escorted him back down the halls, down the prison cell blocks. Atem was looking, waiting for an opportunity to obtain something- anything that would help the plan reeling in his head.

He was lucky, because soon several prisoners turned a corner, marching towards them with two other guards. When Atem saw that among them was a particularly hot head that was far too easy to manipulate, an idea sparked. Atem had never been one for gossip or rumors, but he had heard one swapped by the guards that might provide a perfect distraction.

“Evening, Jin.” Atem greeted as he and the other prisoners intersected in the hall. “Did you know that your wife has been sending some very naughty letters to Milo?”

“The hell did you just say!?” Jin spat, blazing eyes flashing to the man walking in front of him. He actually stepped out of the line up to look the accused more directly, ignoring the snapped warning from the guards.

Milo, a tall mountain of a man, looked over his shoulder and down at Jin as if he were a roach. “Don’t even try. I aint above crushing you under by boot, fool.”

Just as Atem had predicted Jin’s short fuse blew and he practically howled in rage as he jumped at the mountain. The other’s in the line up had mixed reactions as the guards surged forward, some hooted with laughter, others egged them on, and finally, as Atem had hoped, two actually joined in on the fight.

That caused Ushio and his cronies to step in and Atem took the moment to strike. Ushio was a chain smoker, and chain smokers should always have a source of fire on their person, even if it was against the prison’s rules. The abusive guard was too distracted to notice the deft hand slipping into his pocket, or the next when that one came up empty. Unfortunately Atem’s luck ran thin when someone in the scuffle knocked into him and he fell against Ushio’s back, hard.

That got attention.

“Back in line, Mutou!” Ushio spat and a large fist collided with Atem’s face.

Atem was sent back across the hall from the blow and tumbled to the ground. Shouts echoed behind and above him, excited cries from the inmates, guards spewing threats, but Atem didn’t care about any of it now. He got to his hands and knees, letting his vision settle after the jarring punch. A familiar iron tang filled his mouth as his teeth ached and a moment later Atem spat a small pool of blood onto the gray floor. He ignored the stark red and instead opened his palm, the object held there hidden from the view of anyone else. His plan was already coming together as he smiled down at the small black lighter.

Yes, this would do nicely.

#atem x reader #yami x reader #Atem #yami yugi #yami #ygo #yugioh x reader #Yu-Gi-Oh #yu-gi-oh reader insert #series: crime and consequence

25 notes · View notes

aleatoryalarmalligator · 5 years ago

Text

Okay, so let me take this back to a week or two ago.

I owe one of my roommates 1200 dollars. My rent is 800 bills included. I make ten dollars over what counts for me getting no food stamps of financial assistance. I kept going to this job, because i was hoping that an opening would soon happen for me to get a job that i had before the closure of the other location. The explanation of this, in order to make it remotely interesting, would be a story in and of itself and would take too long.

I have had a rough go of it. I fell back into an eating disorder this winter, i went to home feeling sick and cold and heartbroken. Every night. I was completely isolated, i never went to anyone's house, i stopped even seeing a future for myself. the best days i had were ones where i would walk around the mall and stare at clothing i couldn't afford. Because the guy i was in love with randomly flipped on me one morning and told me to leave. I felt completely used, and gross about myself, and i just stopped eating. My bus home always took an hour and a half, i was shaking starving and so fucking poor that even if i wanted to eat more i couldn't afford it. I wanted to cry on the bus after work every night, but i forced myself to choke it down. I listened to last podcast on the left constantly to entertain myself. I texted him even though he had hurt me, and he ran back and apologized after, but somehow it was never the same. I'm not even mad. It just wasn't the same.

Anyway, i snapped about three weeks ago. I woke up, did my budget, and realize the reason i was having such a hard time was that i was literally not making enough money. Everything was about suppression and reduction of needs, to the point where i had very few enjoyments, and i was becoming so lonely i was becoming neurotic. And the more neurotic and lonely i became, i feel like the less people would want to hang out with me. After awhile, any attention i got from this guy was better than nothing. If i didn't have someone that paid some attention to me i was losing my will to even get up in the morning. Because what is the point of getting up for nothing, to do another day that makes you sad, with no purpose or friends? I felt like i was withering away, and nobody would even notice when i was finally just gone. I mean, maybe that is for the best, but i don't know. I feel like the initial love i poured into coming to this city has become dark and uncertain, and i miss the early days a lot. I feel like i am always chasing a feeling, that i am whatever chemical combination is hitting my neurotransmitters.

I made the decision to find a better job, realizing I wasn't going to get out of this mess unless i had money to at least rid myself of the basic and constant fear of not having enough. I'm tired of being in debt. So, i kinda did that. I ended up getting offered this job, and i just let myself run around with my money moreso, for the last few weeks with the mindset that i would have at least seven hundred more a month. I stopped dieting (unfortunately gaining back some weight). It's not that i don't need to diet, but i need something to distract myself if i am going to run around shaking with hunger all the time. I can't live on self hatred, at least not for too long.

Then, the covid 19 virus just started spreading, and at first it was nothing, but then i kind of turned into this thing where sickly people are going down in numbers. And now nobody is going to hire me because all restaurants are closed and the economy fell apart and everyone is pretty scared, i got laid off from the place i work at now, which i feel like it's not even going to reopen at this point. Thousands of workers in the city just like me now have no way to pay their rent, meanwhile the hospitals will likely continue to fill with patients, and grocery stores are half empty, and this is just a small taste of what the future likely holds. So even when this virus comes and goes and does it's damage, i think things like this are just going to keep happening. And rich people will be fine, but poor people won't be. I mean, funny memes aside. Our entire economic system and healthcare system and so many things are going to collapse in my lifetime, it seems futile to even try to make it now. I know that sounds really pesimistic.

The last few weeks i have been meeting him in secret, but he's not really cuddly like before, and he seems like he wants me to be gone when he's done with me, and he dotes on his other friends and I just feel very taken for granted and when we are with our friends who aren't supposed to know, i just don't feel like someone he's that excited to be around. And he seems to engage in conversation, but with me he just kind of talks over me to imply i am dumb, and i get tired of that. Honestly, there is nothing endearing about it. It's insulting and tiring and i am so deeply worried about the world around me, that even my own heartbreak seems like nothing. I am genuinely very scared about the state of the world, and even an idea relationship would not save me from this. Like, yeah, i feel really used and hurt, but also we are losing animal species and the ocean is polluted and there is a pandemic, and overpopulation in certain areas of the world that are going to be swallowed by global warming. Sometimes this train of thought takes me into an entire three sixty because i wonder if it isn't just best to enjoy every person and experience for what it is because my life might not give me that much to look forward to in the future, and there is only so much i can do to fix the world or the people in it. Do i really want to put my foot down and tell him i don't want to see him anymore, when he's the only person i have, and i know too that he struggles with addiction?

Furthermore, my brother panicked and lost his mind and went on attack towards my sister who he was living with, and now he's moving back with my abusive parents. That's a whole story in and of itself. And that is that. I won't be seeing him anymore. He was so scared about economic and societal collapse. And then my workplace wrote me and said they don't have money to even give me my last paycheck, and i am lucky that my old dad is working overtime at the factory to send me money. Honestly, i was panicked before, but now i just feel resigned and afraid. It helps that there is no way i can get evicted right now, but at this point i just have a bad feeling that things are just going to keep getting worse.

I feel like poor people are being spread too thin, and it's going to eventually create a sense of rage. It's been happening for a long time. They just keep cutting programs, or making it harder to afford rent, or go to school. For instance, i have a friend who is an ambulance driver. He makes twelve dollars an hour, he's literally scraped up dead children off the side of the road, but he doesn't get free healthcare. If he ends up on the other end of his ambulance van he's fucked. It's stuff like this that is unbelievable. You'd think someone with his job of all people would be more than entitled to free healthcare, not that we all don't, but like, it might come with some benefits given he works in the industry and the level of seriousness his job entails. But there aren't any. And truly, he doesn't even make as much hourly as someone who works in a restaurant. It's nonsense. And it's accepted. And we need ambulance drivers.

Anyway, there is a lot that branches off. I don't know what direction i should go in, the mental health aspect of myself, or my family dynamics, the economy, the healthcare industry, my personal strifes, my conflicting relationship stuff, or what the future holds. All i can say is i feel terribly alone and terribly scared and it's hard to articulate it or feel grounded in myself at all. Sometimes it's like a numbness that tells you to keep pushing forward because it's the routine and it's supposed to lead to somewhere, right? I feel like in the last year, i am learning how to put my foot down and say no. I am learning to love people and know i am not loved back, and not even care anymore. I am also exhausted. When i am not around people, i fall asleep. A mysterious exhaustion i have never had before has taken over and i really just want to sleep for days and days straight, and some little part of me just wonders if it wouldn't be better if i didn't wake up again. I am not suicidal, but what's the point?

And I guess lastly, who am I to even complain? So many people have had it worse and now everyone is falling apart and struggling around me, so I am nothing special. It’s just hard to know what to do right now. There seems to be no distraction from the nothingness of it all.

26 notes · View notes

truck-fump · 4 years ago

Text

Brace Yourself for Trump’s Great Recession Trump and businesses...

New Post has been published on https://truckfump.life/2020/07/06/brace-yourself-for-trumps-great-recession-trump-and-businesses/

Brace Yourself for Trump’s Great Recession Trump and businesses...

youtube

Brace Yourself for Trump’s Great Recession

Trump and businesses demanded America “reopen” to revive the economy. But we’ve reopened too soon, before Covid-19 is under control. So we’re needing to close or partly close again, which will prolong the economic downturn and wreak even more havoc on millions of Americans’ livelihoods.

It never should have been a contest between public health and the economy, anyway. The economy has always depended on getting public health right. And we still haven’t.

Trump has downplayed the risks. He got in the way of governors trying to keep people safe. And now all of us are paying the price.

Brace yourself. The wave of evictions and foreclosures in the next 2 months will be unlike anything America has experienced since the Great Depression. And unless Congress extends extra unemployment benefits beyond July 31, we’re also going to have unparalleled hunger.

Eviction protections for federally subsidized properties run out at the end of July. In some states that enacted their own moratoria on evictions, renter protections are already running out. One study estimates that 19 to 23 million renters, or 1 in 5 people who live in renter households, are at risk of eviction by September 30th.

The people most likely to be evicted are Black and Latinx people, single mothers, people with disabilities, formerly incarcerated people, and undocumented people. This is systemic racism playing out in real time.

Meanwhile, delinquency rates on mortgages have more than doubled since March.

Unemployment itself is different than what we saw back in March and April. Today’s layoffs are permanent, the result of businesses throwing in the towel or permanently slimming down.

In the public sector, loss of state tax revenue is running up against state constitutions that bar deficits. This is putting vital public services on the chopping block – schools, childcare, supplemental nutrition, mental health services, low-income housing, healthcare – at a time when the public needs them more than ever.

In April and May alone, states and localities furloughed or laid off some 1.5 million workers, about twice as many as in the entire aftermath of the Great Recession a decade ago. These cuts will be just the tip of the iceberg if the federal government doesn’t provide more fiscal aid for states and localities.

Let me remind you: Expanded unemployment benefits are set to expire by July 31, leaving at least 21 million unemployed Americans with a 60% income reduction and no stimulus check to fall back on.

To make matters worse, over 16.2 million households have lost employer-provided health insurance. The Census Household Pulse Survey shows large losses in income in coming months, along with high food and housing insecurity.

So what’s Trump’s and Mitch McConnell’s response to this looming catastrophe?

Do nothing.

Don’t extend supplemental unemployment benefits beyond July 31, when they’re due to expire.

Don’t help states and cities.

Reject the HEROES Act, passed by the House of Representatives to keep struggling families afloat and the economy from going into a tailspin.

Trump has even asked the Supreme Court to strike down the Affordable Care Act. If the Court agrees, 23 million Americans will lose their health insurance, and the richest 0.1 percent of households with annual incomes of over $3 million will receive tax cuts averaging about $198,000 per year.

This is lunacy. The priority must be getting control over this pandemic and helping Americans survive it physically and financially. Extra unemployment benefits must be extended.

The HEROES Act must be signed into law. Moratoriums on evictions and foreclosures must be extended. If it’s necessary to go back to sheltering in place to contain this pandemic, we must be willing to do so.

This shouldn’t be controversial. It’s the bare minimum of what our government must do to prevent an even worse economic and human catastrophe.

Anything less is indefensible.

#Uncategorized

0 notes

nathanjhill · 8 years ago

Text

Upside Down - an Easter sermon

Easter Sunday 2017 | John 20:1-18

This morning, I want to invite us to see things a little differently.

Upside down, if you will…

For example, consider this image - what do you see?

But what happens when we flip it? What do you see now?

It’s called a stereographic image - and there a whole bunch of these out there, that transform the picture of an old man into a young woman, for instance. It’s a visual illusion - a trick - but it’s also about perspective. From what angle are we viewing the world?

On this Easter morning, with flowers above and below, I want to make the case that resurrection is more than just a spiritual reality, a religious church word, but an event that challenges us to see and know the world differently.

That first Easter morning, nearly two thousand years ago, was an upside down kind of day.

Let’s recap, in case this is the first time you are hearing this story.

Quickly, there was a man named Jesus, born in ancient Israel under provocative circumstances, with angels, shepherds, and prophets proclaiming him to the messiah, the one to lead his people out of darkness into light. This man began a powerful ministry, teaching a new wisdom and a new way of living, healing the sick, loving the outcast, eating with rejects, and challenging the status quo. And for this - for this provocative ministry, Jesus was arrested, charged in a sham trial, and publicly executed on a cross by the Roman empire to shame his followers and to preserve the precious status quo.

Executed for radically loving the stranger, the diseased, the unlovable.

On this morning, we pick up the story - his followers are defeated and scattered. The one man in their life who had brought them hope and rekindled their belief that there was a brighter future for their people and maybe for the world was gone, buried in a tomb. A stone rolled over the entrance. There would be no revolution through Jesus.

But on that Easter morning, the revolution began anyway. In the gospel of John, this revolution did not begin with a display of military power like those images you might have seen in our reclusive neighbors in North Korea or with the mushroom cloud of a 110 ton bomb dropped on enemy targets. In the other gospels, there is an earthquake, stunned soldiers, a little more shock and awe.

But in the gospel of John, the revolution begins in the stillness of the dawn, when the earth is quiet and the rising sun casts that soft hazy glow over a waking creation.

Suddenly, there is resurrection.

Mary Magdalena is the first to witness it, one of Jesus’ faithful followers, whose heart is heavy with grief and has come to shed her tears. Mary may seem like an unlikely messenger - but God is always pushing and prodding us. God loves to use whoever society thinks is unlikely and unworthy to share an important message. Women have too often been considered second class citizens throughout history - but here God makes this beautiful woman the first to see that something wondrous is unfolding.

Mary walks up to that tomb and knows something is wrong - the stone has been rolled away.

Fearing the worst, that grave robbers have stolen the body of her beloved or the Romans want to make further ridicule of this supposed revolutionary, she runs to tell the other disciples that something terrible has happened.

Peter and one of Jesus’ closest disciples turn it into a footrace to see with their own eyes. They peer into the tomb, climbing in even, to find - no crime scene - but linen cloths neatly folded on the place where he was laid. Jesus didn’t stumble out of his tomb, wrapped in linen cloths. Quietly and confidently, in mystery, Jesus awoke, laid his funeral garbs to the side, and continued his life-giving revolution.

No doubt, Peter and the other disciple there wonder what has happened - what to believe, if what Jesus had taught them was coming true, what might happen next. They return to their home, full of questions, concern - their world already beginning to twist upside down in mystery and wonder.

But Mary lingers. She cannot return home. Her heart is bursting. She weeps.

Why does she weep? Theologian Scott Hoezee writes this, “Mary wept because death had done to Jesus’ body what death does to each person’s body: renders it vulnerable to decay, decomposition, as well as totally defenseless against the whims of those who might be minded to abuse a corpse.”

Mary weeps for us - with us - with all of humanity - with anyone who has ever known or encountered death.

In an ER when a doctor comes in head hung low, unable to look you in the eye to share the diagnosis for your loved one

In a crime scene on a city street, another young life claimed to senseless, shallow violence

In the eyes of a Syrian refugee, unable to go home and nowhere to call home

In the tired haggard face of a drug addict on your street corner

In the war zone, in the nation overwhelmed by famine, in the slums, in the eviction notices, in the deep division that gives neighbor cause to hate another

Hoezee says, “Easter happens where death is, because that is the only place it is needed.”

Mary weeps for the work of death that steal and mar the goodness and beauty of Creation.

But suddenly, even as the tears come, Mary is not alone. She has visitors. Maybe through the tears she cannot see that they are angels. She cannot see that suddenly, asking her why she is crying, is Jesus himself.

Finally Jesus says, “Mary!”

And Mary can see. Her Savior. Her teacher. Her friend.

Scripture does not tell us explicitly that she reached out and grabbed hold of Jesus, but you know she did. She hugged him, clung to him, tears of grief giving to tears of joy. She never wants to let go of him again.

Jesus cannot be held on to however. Jesus in this moment has to tell Mary to let go. He was not to be kept bottled up and tethered down to this one place - but it was time for his ministry to continue, for the revolution to continue, for the world to be turned upside down through his love.

“Do not hold on to me, Mary,” says Jesus. “But go to my brothers and tell them what you have seen.”

The world turned upside down. The Risen One alive!

Mary becomes the first preacher, the first evangelist, the first proclaimer of the good news. She runs to meet the other disciples - “I have seen the Lord! Christ has risen!”

Writer Anne Lamott reminds her audiences that the first of the week on that Easter so long ago felt like a victory for the Romans and those who opposed Jesus. They still had the power. The people were still oppressed. Hope seemed distant. The revolution had been put down.

But that Easter morning so long ago began that quiet revolution nonetheless that would eventually challenge the empire, transform lives that had been outcast, create an alternative community to that of domination and power, and threaten to flip upside down the values of this broken world.

Through the resurrection, “God could transmute defeat into triumph, ugliness into beauty, despair into hope, the cross into the resurrection.” - James Cone

It is this “upside down”-ness that we gather to enact here in this church. And I don’t pretend that we are experts at it. We do not make space for hungry and homeless because it makes us feel good about ourselves - we do it because it’s right. We don’t offer second chances because it’s the decent thing to do. We don’t try our best to bite our tongues and open our minds and hearts to new perspectives because it earns us Heaven points.

We attempt this upside down because our lives are desperate for another way - because the world is desperate for another way.

It was Jesus who taught us this way -

that the first will be last and the last will be first

blessed are those who hunger now for they will be filled

to go and sell all of your possessions and give to the poor

to forgive seventy-times seven

to take up our cross and follow Him

And it is this way that continues to challenge and turn upside down the broken narratives and evil that we see on our TV screens, on our Facebook feeds, on our city streets, and in our hearts.

Resurrection invites us into our transformation, our own “metanoia”, to live the way of Jesus in this fragmented world.

What is it in your life that needs to be turned upside down? What place of sin needs to be transformed from a tomb into a garden? What do you weep for that God might begin to transform through you?

This morning, I want you to know that Jesus is calling Your name. [Insert names here.] Why are you weeping?

Jesus, with open arms, says

“Come to me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.”

To know Jesus is to know that there is more to this world than weeping - more than the sirens and wails of tragedy - more than the drumbeat of war - there is more beyond even this life and more to this life now. This is the gift of resurrection in which Jesus invites us to live each day.

Close with the story of Steve McDonald (from: God’s Cop: A Tribute to Steven McDonald: Friend, Hero, Saint by Sam Hine)

I heard and read about this interesting man who lived out his faith in incredible circumstances. Steve as a police officer in NYC, shot by a teenager, paralyzed, wife and family, devastation:

My wife, twenty-three years old, was three months pregnant. Patti Ann was crying uncontrollably at the cards she had been dealt, and I cried too. I was locked in my body, unable to speak, move, or reach out to her.

A week after I was shot, the media asked to speak to my wife. Though still in shock, Patti Ann bravely told everybody that she would trust God to do what was best for her family. That set the tone not only for my recovery but also for the rest of our lives.

At this son’s baptism - forgiveness for Shavod Jones, the teen who shot him:

I wanted to free myself of all the negative, destructive emotions that this act of violence awoke in me – the anger, the bitterness, the hatred. I needed to free myself of those so I could be free to love my wife and our child and those around us. I often tell people that the only thing worse than a bullet in my spine would have been to nurture revenge in my heart.

McDonald and Jones offered each other forgiveness - reconciliation - a chance to do work together.

I’ve been able to reach out to children in particular, because it was a child of my city that did this terrible thing to me. I have spoken at hundreds of schools about nonviolence, and I know from responses I get that many of the children have embraced my message and internalized it. Instead of responding to violence with more violence they have decided to choose forgiveness and love. So God has turned something terrible into something beautiful.

Upside down!

Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!

#easter #sermon #resurrection #upsidedown #john #jesus

0 notes