#I refuse to go through a rescue too many potential issues here
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border-collie · 2 years ago
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Have another potential lead for a young female washed sheep dog who is local to me. I'm going to see if I can meet her, she is clicker trained and was posted by my training club which is promising behavioral wise
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sonnet009 · 5 years ago
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Wilder: Royo’s Story (Route Summary)
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PROLOGUE:
MC decides not to flee Ziya but to instead wait for the guards to arrive, trusting that justice and truth will prevail. She is promptly arrested and thrown in prison to await her execution.
CHAPTER I:
Weeks pass and MC grows weak and despondent. Then one day an audaciously dressed djinn appears, knocks out the guards, and rescues MC from her cell. The djinn introduces herself as Royo and says that she has been sent here by an important man with a lot of coin. Royo smuggles MC out of the palace in an empty wine barrel, barely keeping her cover intact when one of the palace servants treats her like a lowly slave.
Outside and in the clear MC learns to her dismay that Royo was not sent by Uncle Makram to bring MC home, but by some mysterious other man to whom Royo intends to take her. Unable to overpower her or call out for help without being sent straight back to the dungeon, MC reluctantly goes along with Royo who has a horse waiting to carry both of them away into the desert.
In the Shining Sands Royo and MC cross paths with slavers returning to the city. One of the men recognises MC and Royo kills all of them before they can cause trouble. MC is horrified but Royo only shrugs. “Problem solved, princess.”
CHAPTER II:
Royo takes MC up into the Western Hills in an attempt to shake off any potential pursuers. She refuses to divulge the identity of her employer and will say only that he is a man who believes in MC's innocence. MC asks if Royo believes she is innocent, but Royo only replies that she doesn't care. Suddenly the two women are surrounded by a hunting party of wild djinn. Royo whispers to MC that they should bide their time for now and allows the djinn to escort them to their leader.
The tribe's chief is quickly charmed by Royo and agrees to let them stay there for the night, though he insists that MC is tied to a tree. During dinner two djinn children come to bring MC some food. Royo later takes MC – hands still tied – to a river to wash the grime away, claiming that her employer will be annoyed if MC is delivered to him looking so disheveled. MC notes that Royo seems to be enjoying MC's humiliation. Royo doesn't deny it. After all, she had to endure debasement at the hands of humans for years. “You will survive one night of indignity, princess.”
In the night a sudden storm rolls in. One of the children MC met before is swept into the river but is only noticed by MC, and no one will listen to her. Unable to swim but with no choice, MC leaps into the river to save the child. She manages to drag him to the bank before collapsing. As soon as the storm passes, Royo insists that she and MC move on.
CHAPTER III:
Royo and MC head up into the mountains known as the Knives. Feeling weaker and weaker, injuries from her clumsy rescue throbbing, MC finally passes out and falls to the ground. When she wakes it is in a cave, lit by firelight, resting in Royo's lap. Royo, unaware she is awake, is murmuring apologies for not realising MC had a fever and commendations for being brave enough to jump in the river and insults for being stupid enough to jump in the river.
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When MC reveals that she is awake Royo nearly jumps out of her skin. She caught some rabbits earlier and has been cooking them on the fire. The two eat dinner together and Royo finally opens up a little more. She explains that her employer is Yasir, a member of the Guild that rules the city of Umar. He is famous as the human who emancipated the djinn of Umar and has taken great interest in MC, who killed the shah in the name of the slaves. MC protests that she didn't kill the shah, not for the slaves or anyone, but Royo already knows. It's simply a rumour that Yasir wants to capitalise on.
Once MC has recovered she and Royo continue their journey, though now they are more at ease with each other. Royo hits MC with her first snowball. They bathe together in a hot spring. Royo checks MC's still-healing wounds and tells her, “Next time, count on me.” She also muses that the tribe will probably remember MC's actions for a long time. It's not the kind of revolutionary action that will force change on a grand scale, but it wasn't bad. For a princess.
CHAPTER IV:
Past the Knives now, on the way to the port town of Dijarah, Royo finally tells MC the truth about Yasir's expectations. He wants MC to marry him. MC is appalled. Royo is sympathetic but firm, insisting that Yasir is a great man and her best option.
She tells the story of her young life as a criminal, slave to a gang of thieves. One day she tried to rob Yasir, just a simple merchant back then, only to have him declare that, if she helped him, he would free not just her but everyone like her. It was like being reborn, she says with a profound solemnity. MC starts to wonder if Royo is in love with Yasir.
Hamza and his men ambush them on the road. Hamza overpowers Royo but is unprepared for the headbutt she plants on him. Fleeing with MC on her back, Royo gives the soldiers the slip and comes to rest in an old barn. Royo tells MC to sleep while she keeps watch for the night but MC instead chooses to stay awake by her side.
CHAPTER V:
Once they arrive in Dijarah Royo buys dinner for them both at a local inn. A drunk man bumps into them and takes offence to Royo's lack of subservience. Royo brushes him off and suggests to MC that they take in the sights at the Fish Festival that is happening tonight, though that means delaying their journey by a day. MC is touched that Royo would do that for her, though Royo denies any sentimentality.
During the festival they walk through the lively streets and Royo seems to be on a mission to give MC as many new experiences as she can. “I wish we could see more things like this,” she says quietly, but they both know that she cannot be swayed from her duty to Yasir. The drunkard from earlier reappears with his friends, hurling insults at Royo and threatening violence. Royo handily disarms him – his friends are no help – and sends them all running.
This incident has upset Royo in a way MC has never seen before. Royo says that she is sick of people like him. She is a free woman but they'll never see her as anything but beneath them. The next day she and MC board a ship bound for Umar, Royo distant and closed off again.
CHAPTER VI:
MC is treated like nobility on the ship, at Royo's insistence. Royo says it is what Yasir would want but MC suspects this is another way for Royo to distance herself from her. Every night MC sleeps in a luxurious cabin while Royo sleeps outside.
One day, alone on deck, MC is grabbed from behind by a mysterious figure who whispers into her ear, “Justice for the shah,” before pushing her overboard. Royo arrives in time to save her but does not see the would-be assassin. She investigates the ship but cannot find any passenger without an alibi. That night she sleeps on the floor in MC's cabin and they fall asleep holding hands, a vow to protect MC on Royo's lips.
Days pass with no further attempts on MC's life. Royo is stuck to MC like glue, but their unresolved issues turn this into a volatile situation. During an argument Royo nearly kisses MC, then backs off – horrified at herself – and leaves the room. While MC waits for her to return and sorts through her own feelings, the assassin slips into the room.
CHAPTER VII:
Though MC is injured in the ensuing struggle Royo returns in time to thwart the assassin – a man hired by Hamza to shadow MC and wait for the right moment to enact “justice”. While tending to MC's new wounds Royo berates herself for being a terrible escort so far. She admits that it's because she's starting to want not to hand MC over to Yasir.
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Giving in to their growing passion and feeling the looming threat of their time journeying together coming to an end, MC and Royo embrace each other and spend the rest of the voyage together in MC's cabin. Royo calls it “making the most of the time we still have”.
But eventually their stolen time together must end. The ship reaches Umar and they disembark. Though pained, Royo makes sure MC knows that they can never speak of this or do it again.
CHAPTER VIII:
When MC is brought before Yasir, it is not him alone waiting for her. Hamza stands beside him, intent on arresting MC and taking her back to Ziya for her execution. With no other way to protect herself, MC accepts Yasir's marriage proposal on the spot and Hamza leaves to avoid a diplomatic incident. Yasir introduces MC to the Guild, the seven most important people in Umar who rule the city as one. Though they should be equal, Yasir clearly leads them.
Yasir throws a ball to celebrate the engagement. MC ends up fleeing to a guest room and Royo follows. Both longing for each other, they give in to temptation but soon stop when the miserable reality of the situation becomes too heavy to ignore.
The night before the wedding MC cannot sleep and wanders Yasir's manor, wanting nothing more than to find Royo and beg her to run away with her. She finds Royo in furtive conversation with another djinn and eavesdrops on them. Through this MC learns three devastating things: 1. Royo and her co-conspirators arranged for the shah of Ziya's murder. 2. They plan to kill Yasir tomorrow before the wedding. And 3. They intend to frame MC as the culprit, and Yasir as the second husband she has had killed.
CHAPTER IX:
The manor is too abuzz with wedding preparations for MC to find anyone who will listen to her. Yasir is cloistered in his chambers and has no interest in seeing her until just before the ceremony. When it is just her, Yasir and Royo in the room, MC is surprised when nothing happens. No assassination. Things are not going according to the plan she heard last night at all.
The wedding goes ahead, vows are spoken, but everything is suddenly interrupted by a number of black-clad and masked djinn who storm the ceremony. While one stabs Yasir through the heart, killing him, another attacks MC. Royo cries out, “No!” and shields MC from the dagger, taking the wound herself. As chaos erupts throughout the crowd MC only has eyes for Royo, cradling her as she bleeds out on the ground. Through shuddering breaths Royo tells MC that she wasn't supposed to be hurt. MC confronts her about the plan but Royo says she changed the plan, not wanting MC to be a pawn in anyone's plots anymore – especially not hers. MC doesn't understand why this has happened. Royo's final words before she is dragged away by guards is, “His...coffer...”
While Royo is confined to the dungeon, MC searches Yasir's chambers. She unlocks the golden coffer by his bed and finds a mountain of evidence that he was far from the good-hearted revolutionary he pretended to be. His freeing of the slaves was a political stunt and the ultimate goal was to have them slide back into chains over time. Royo must have discovered this some time ago and has been plotting his downfall ever since. Not just his, but the downfall of all the tyrants who would keep her people enslaved. The documents also implicate the Guild in a lot of shady practices. MC takes what she knows to them and promises not to expose them; she just has one demand...
BITTER END:
MC demands that Royo is freed and pardoned. The Guild accepts and gifts MC her late husband's manor and wealth as further insurance that she will not be a problem for them.
Royo stays with MC for a while while she recovers but living in the manor in wilful ignorance of the injustice still present in Umar and beyond becomes suffocating for her. One night MC catches her trying to slip away from their bed leaving behind only a note. Royo says that she has to go, has to see the change she wants in the world be done, but promises to return if she can.
SWEET END:
MC demands her late husband's place in the Guild. With little choice, they accept. MC uses her new power to free and pardon Royo. The two of them return to Yasir's (now MC's) manor and spend most of their time working together to draw up proposals to bring before the Guild, forcing them to enact real and lasting change for the djinn. The one MC is most excited to put in place would be increasing the Guild's number by making Royo a member.
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MC and Royo make no secret of their relationship, now able to be lovers openly and without shame. Royo proposes marriage –  when enough time of “mourning” has passed, of course. The large scar Royo has from the wedding day has become both a point of pride for her and a reminder not to forget that she isn't alone in this anymore.
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rosemaryentombed · 4 years ago
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On Yamihime & the Politics of Toxic Loyalty
I think about Yami’s history and his struggles, and wonder just how deeply Julius’ arrival affected his psyche. Here’s a man who collects squad members like they’re Pokemon, and has no problem giving them a home and a military title because, quite frankly, that’s what Julius did for him, and because Julius gave him a reason to live, then maybe the people Yami collects will also find their will to live.
Except Julius didn’t pick him off the street because he felt bad for him; he took him in because he had magic power, and magic/mana is what makes the man in Clover Kingdom.
It’s not to say Yami doesn’t know he’s a cog in the greater Clover military machine; I’m sure he does! I just think it’s important to note that even though Yami is aware he was brought in to be a tool, he has no problem making others tools as well, because his perception of loyalty and service is inherently warped. For Yami, it’s OK to give your life for someone, no matter what kind of person they are, if you owe your loyalty to that person. It’s also probably why Yami, despite being so perceptive and intelligent, has never questioned Julius’ authority, even though the kingdom is a shitshow from the capital all the way to the boonies.
Asta is critical to Yami’s narrative because Asta, despite being a magicless manlet, is also the only person in the Black Bulls who doesn’t come into the squad looking for comfort, family, and a place to belong. Asta already has all of that. He has comfort in the fact that he’s an ambitious little fuck, he has a family he’ll literally die for, and his home is Hage. The Magic Knights are a path to his goals, not the goal itself. This is a clear opposite of the Black Bulls at large, who are mostly depressed, prone to loitering, and have no motivation to heal and improve their magical abilities because they’re all suffering from depression, anxiety, etc., and the Black Bulls and Yami are really all they have, because they have nothing and no one else.
Prior to Asta’s arrival, the Black Bulls were largely fractured, and barely functioned as individuals, much less a team. Yami did nothing to foster camaraderie. He didn’t have to! They didn’t have to be loyal to each other, only Yami, because it wasn’t a brigade, it was a halfway house, and he was house master. Again, it’s not to say Yami willingly fostered toxicity in his ranks, but he definitely let it fester for so long that it took a whole arc for them to come together as a cohesive unit. And why? Because Asta was the only one well-adjusted enough to recognize his squad’s potential as a whole, versus Yami who wanted them to surpass their limits individually.
But through Asta, I truly believe Yami learned the meaning of family and individual agency in ways Julius could never teach him. I don’t see Yami as a father figure for the Black Bulls at all. In fact, if there’s anyone I think Yami resembles the most, it’s Rukia from Bleach, and that’s as a mentor, a friend, and an ideal to be achieved. Yami is someone who, despite fundamentally being a good person, is bound by his toxic loyalty to his king, wrapped in politics beyond his comprehension, and ultimately a tool who’s been sacrificed time and time again to keep up appearances. The Black Bulls are some of the strongest people in the realm, and led by the King’s ward himself, and yet no one respects the Black Bulls, and no one looks to or respects Yami as ward of the King. He’s treated like garbage despite the military clout. He’s a monster to be feared, when he could have been a beacon of hope for other immigrants, but in the greater narrative of Clover’s military, that just wasn’t possible, and so Yami’s dignity had to be sacrificed in order for him to coexist with the natives.
And now that he’s literally about to be sacrificed, I think it’s poignant that Yami smiled one last before his transformation into Yamihime. It’s his way of apologizing for his shortcomings as squad leader because, in a way, he knows it’s his fault Vanessa, Finral, Grey, Gauche, and Henry still aren’t emotionally well enough to duke it out in tough spots, and Asta can’t save them at the end of the day because Asta is but one human. Yami knows he fucked up, and that he should have tried harder, but he didn’t. Of course we know that it’s not Yami’s fault he got snatched up, but for Yami, it’s a culmination of all of his shortcomings, so he has to smile at the end, because he needs the Black Bulls to understand that it aint their fault. AKA, if we follow through with the Bleach parallel, then the Black Bulls are mini-Ichigos, with Asta being Alpha Ichigo.
The power structure that birthed the Black Bulls can’t be allowed to continue, because how many others like Yami are serving the Crown while willfully ignoring the injustices happening to the civilians? How about the crimes against military personnel? How many more Zara Ideale’s are there? How many more Vanessa’s, and Finral’s, and Henry’s? More than enough, probably, but they’re stuck in this hateful cycle because they have a central figurehead willing to sacrifice them to keep the institution running. That’s why Julius has to die, not because Julius is inherently evil (he’s not), but the institution he serves, upholds, and strengthens is corrupt and fundamentally evil. It’s the same institution that carried out a genocide, and created the tragedy of Yamihime and those like him, those who were sacrificed one way or another to keep the Crown looking pretty.
So why the wall of text? Simple. I feel like Yami’s one of those characters whose physical appearance is a reflection of his deepest insecurities. Here’s a guy who’s three hundred pounds of pure muscle and bulging neck veins, but not only is he objectively ugly, he also has the social skills of a wet leaf. He doesn’t know how to navigate socially, can’t read the room, is crazy intelligent and observant, but too damn stupid to catch a cue. And it’s not his fault! He’s dumb! Lonely! He wants friends, but he’s bad at it! So what does he do? Overcompensate with his muscles and emotionally detach himself enough that his squad members can’t get too close to him, so then he becomes more of an ideal than a person. 
With his transformation into Yamihime, I think Yami is finally in a place where he’s finally humanized, not only to the Black Bulls, but to the audience as well. Now we know that despite three hundred pounds of muscles, anyone can be a victim. Despite being a physical representation of oozing masculinity, anyone can be harassed, hurt, and victimized by violent predators like Dante and Zenon. The transformation into Yamihime thus serves as the critical juncture where Yami is now a person rather than just Julius’ tool, the Black Bulls’ idealized leader, and Charlotte’s love interest. Yami is now a deeply flawed human being who has his own shortcomings and insecurities, recognizes these issues, and who has accepted his failure in order to emotionally relieve his squad of having to feel the guilt of losing him. I know I joke about the Yamihime a lot, but it really is a powerful tool when used properly, because Tabata didn’t fridge Yami, he made Yami the very human being Clover refused to believe he was.
And his rescue now is staked on his humanity, because Yami is a friend and a potential lover, and not just a monster, or a captain, or the dude who’s made of three hundred pounds of pure muscle. And with Yami’s transformation into Yamihime, it comes time for Julius to be removed from the narrative as a proponent of the old Yami and all that he stood for, because Yamihime can’t be the tool of the state after this. Yami can’t uphold the dirty institution after this because the institution has spent this whole time stripping away Yami’s humanity, so for Yami to return to Clover as Julius’ soldier does nothing to reflect the change that’s necessary for the story to further develop as a whole. 
See with Yami’s humanization came Julius’ breakdown as a figurehead. I now understand why Tabata had to deage him. If he’d killed him off during the elven invasion, then he would have died a martyr and thrown the country into a civil war with a Spade invasion on its heels. No - Julius needed to be deaged so that it would be much easier for both the audience and characters to consume his true death because it’s easier to woobify a thirteen year old babie than a forty year old man. Because despite how kind Julius is to Yami, he’s still a propagator of violence and a leading figure of a corrupt institution. For Yami’s sacrifice to even make a modicum of narrative sense, Julius must die. The civil war, which has been brewing since the first chapter, is practically imminent.
tl;dr: Yamihime is an excellent developmental point for Yami, Julius needs to die in order to start the Clover civil war, Jack the Ripper is Renji Abarai and will rescue and eventually go onto marry the Yamihime, and Henry’s bussy pops SEVERELY. No, I will not be taking questions.
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emachinescat · 4 years ago
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Febuwhump day 25 / alt. 8 - allergies
Once again, I tried to write a story today, and because I’m sick with Covid, didn’t have the energy to finish the whole thing.  I do plan on finishing this up and posting the full thing once I’m recovered enough to do so.  Until then, I want to post what I have so that I can still claim victory for Febuwhump! :)  Please be aware that I wrote this while having a low-grade fever and that it’s not been edited, so if it is clunky or has issues, that’s why.  I’ll fine-tune everything when I finish writing it.  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the rough product I have for you so far!  TW: PTSD
Mac + Allergies + The Goodest Boy
Angus MacGyver hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in over four weeks.  He’d tell you otherwise if you asked, of course, but the evidence was overwhelming.  Every day, Mac's face grew paler, the darkness under his eyes deepened, and the look in his eyes became more distant.  Jack had seen this happen to many soldiers – hell, it had happened to him.  This tour hadn’t been as bad as some of the previous ones Jack had experienced, but in the past … 
Well, suffice it to say that Jack Dalton knew a thing or two about PTSD.
And as ugly of a look as it had been on him, as it was on anyone else, nothing had prepared him for how much it would hurt to see it on his little burger buddy.  Shoot, when Jack had signed up for another tour to keep an eye on the kid, it was to keep him safe in the Sandbox, but now that he was home, Jack felt like Mac was in just as much danger of losing himself here as he had been losing his life in Afghanistan.  That was part of the reason Jack had found a place in L.A. instead of going straight back home to Texas.  That, and a potential job for the two of them he was investigating at the DXS, but ultimately, it wouldn’t have mattered where the jobs were.  Jack had already decided to locate himself wherever Mac was.
Jack had tried to help the best that he could.  He’d been on call all hours of the night, had had Mac over at his place when the nightmares got too bad, had crashed at Mac’s place whenever his roommate was out of town and Mac couldn’t be alone.  He’d tried to get Mac to talk many times, but one thing he’d learned about the kid was that although he could go on and on for hours about geek squad science stuff, he was a master at talking a lot without actually saying anything important.  And he didn’t talk about himself at all.
Jack knew there was a lot to unpack.  Hell, Mac’s C.O. had been killed in front of him.  The kid had screamed awake from many a nightmare about that one.  He’d nearly been killed multiple times, been under fire, disarmed over a hundred IEDs in a single day, had been through hell right alongside Jack in the Sandbox, and Jack sometimes had to remind himself that the kid was still, well, a kid.  Fresh out of school, hadn’t even finished college before joining the army.  He’d seen more violence and bloodshed than most people twice his age.  His skill set put him right there in the middle of the death and danger, a twenty-year-old bomb nerd with a glowing neon target on his back.  
And now he was back home, and everything was different.  Jack knew this because he had been here too, once, not because Mac talked about it.  He understood exactly what his friend was going through – he was home, but home wasn’t the same.  He smiled when he spoke to his friends, his roommate, even Jack, sometimes, but the smile was hollow and so were his eyes.  The nightmares followed him wherever he went and he couldn’t adjust, and he kept all the turmoil to himself, not wanting to be a bother, not thinking he deserved sympathy or whatever help his friends wanted to give him.
Finally, Jack reached the point where he had no idea what to do.  What had ultimately pulled him out of his own personal hell after the worst tour of his career had been a very good friend, but no one, not Jack, not Bozer, not Mac’s childhood friend Penny, seemed able to penetrate the layers of protection that Mac had built up around himself.
Maybe, he thought, as he stared pensively at the computer screen, Mac needed a friend who didn’t try to get him to talk at all, one who would just be there for him and listen and drool all over his hand and tak dumps in his backyard.  Maybe, Jack ventured, the light bulb going off in his brain at the ad for the Battle Buddy Foundation and their service dogs for vets, Mac needed a dog.
.
Bozer was out of town at some movie convention the next weekend, so Jack put his plan into motion.  He hadn’t had a chance to run it by Mac’s oldest friend yet, but he knew that if a dog would help Mac, then Bozer wouldn’t mind a new addition to the household.  Bozer would just be in for a surprise when he got home.
It had taken a lot of trips to animal shelters to find just the right fit for his partner, but Jack had been determined.  He’d tried the Battle Buddy Foundation, but since he wasn’t looking for a service dog for himself, that had been a no-go.  Plus, there were just so many hoops to jump through and qualifications to meet and interviews to be had, and Mac needed help now.  So he had scoured shelters and rescues, looking for a dog of just the right size and temperament for his buddy.  The next two weeks were going to be a trial basis, and if Mac and the pup clicked, Jack would seal the deal.  If not, then there was already another interested party lined up for the adoption.
The dog’s name was Cheese, and he was a four-year-old golden retriever mix who loved cuddles, thrived on attention and exercise, and even looked a little like Mac with his long, flowing blonde locks.  Also, Jack couldn’t get past how perfectly the names synced up – how could he pass up the possibility of Mac and Cheese?
.
As Jack had predicted, Mac fell in love with Cheese the moment he laid eyes on him.
“Jack!” Mac grinned, falling to one knee right in the middle of the sidewalk.  “Who’s this?”  Jack let Cheese wag his little tail happily over to Mac and watched with rising excitement as the pooch immediately began nuzzling and licking a laughing Mac all over.  He watched as Mac scratched Cheese’s furry head, found the sweet spot behind the ears, and buried his hands in the fur around the dog’s neck.  
“This,” Jack said, “is your new best friend.”
Mac looked up from having his face licked off and narrowed his eyes.  “What did you do to Bozer?”
Jack tried to act like he wasn’t offended that Bozer had been Mac’s go-to on the “best friend” front.  “Nothing.”
“Then are you leaving me?”  Despite the joke, a bit of uncertainty had wormed its way into Mac’s voice, and Jack could have kicked himself.
“No, man, I don’t mean it like that!  Cheese ain’t replacing anybody, he’s just the newest member of the family!”
A hesitant half-smile pulled at Mac’s lips.  “You got me a dog?”  He cocked his head.  Cheese mimicked him, ears flopping as his head tilted adorably to one side.  “I’m sorry – did you say his name is Cheese?”
Jack nodded proudly.  
Mac kept scratching Cheese behind the ears, but he stared at Jack suspiciously.  “Did you name him that?”
Jack’s nod turned into a vigorous shake.  “No, that’s what he was called at the shelter, man.  It helped me pick him out for ya.  It was like fate.”
“Fate?”  Mac looked like he really didn’t want to know.
“Mac and Cheese, hoss.”
“No,” Mac said shortly.  “Just… no.”
.
Mac ended up keeping the name.
It wasn’t that he liked the lame pun or anything, but Cheese had apparently been called Cheese for a long time and refused to respond to anything else.  Mac wanted to call him Fibonacci, but one look into those big brown eyes that lit up when Mac said Cheese, and one glimpse of the way his tail flopped around excitedly at the sound of his name, made Mac change his mind.  Cheese obviously liked being Cheese, and who was Mac to try to change him?  
“Besides,” Jack pointed out no less than five times on the day he introduced them, “Mac and Cheese belong together, man.  Cheese without Mac is pretty good, I’ll admit, but Mac without Cheese is just a noodle.”  He shook his head sadly, and Mac couldn’t help but grin.  “Just a limp noodle.”
.
Cheese slept in the bed with Mac that night, curled up close beside him, warm and big and furry.  Mac didn’t have nightmares, mostly because he didn’t sleep.  He couldn’t sleep.  He could feel a cold coming on, and the persistent scratch in his throat kept him firmly tethered in that awful middle ground between waking and sleeping, where sleep is the most appealing thing you can imagine, but it is also the most unattainable.  It would have been a thoroughly miserable night, except Cheese was wonderful company, and his soft snores, twitchy feet, and dog dreams were a balm to Mac’s sleepless jitters.
Despite how much Mac loved Cheese already, he spent a large portion of the night thinking of reasons why it wasn’t practical for him to have a dog.  Bozer didn’t know about Cheese, for one.  Jack claimed that everything was fine, that Boze would be completely on board once he got home.  But Mac didn’t just want to spring a pet on his roommate.  Having a dog was a huge responsibility, one that wouldn’t affect just Mac, but anyone he lived with as well.  Of course, there was the fact that Mac himself wasn’t prepared to take care of a dog at all, either, even if Jack had taken it upon himself to buy half of Pet Smart on his way back from the shelter.  Mac felt like he could barely take care of himself half the time; what made him think that he could keep another creature alive and healthy?  
Peña had died on his watch, after all.  How long until his dog got hurt because of him?  
It was at that thought that Mac realized he was spiraling into very dangerous thought patterns, and he only managed to drag himself away from them by distracting himself with the snuffling noises Cheese made while he slept and by feeling the soft warmth of his fur.
Maybe Jack was right – maybe a dog would do Mac some good.
Of course, there was the one problem that Mac found himself avoiding more earnestly the more attached he found himself growing to Cheese.  It was perhaps the most glaring reason for not having a dog, but it was also he one Mac avoided acknowledging at all costs, and yet he knew full well that he was not getting a cold as he had told himself when the symptoms first started.  He recognized that tell-tale itch at the back of the throat and the heaviness of the head all too well, though he’d held out hope he’d grow out of it someday.  The truth was in the sneezes, though, which started after midnight and only got more numerous and violent as the night progressed.
No, there had been a reason that Archimedes had been an outside dog.  There was a reason Mac felt like he had a head cold coming on.  And there was a reason that he should have told Jack no the second his friend had made it clear that Cheese was to be his dog.
Angus MacGyver was allergic to dogs.
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queerofthedagger · 5 years ago
Note
hello! i noticed you have prompts open, and i love your writing! no pressure ofc but do you think you could write james and sirius rescuing regulus? maybe getting him out of grimmauld, or maybe when they're all older, getting him away from the death eaters?? james and sirius CAN be in a relationship, or they could be just uselessly giving each other heart eyes until reggie does something to facilitate their boyfriendhood?? i don't know, the ball is in your court, now :')
Hey nonnie, thank you so much for the prompt! ❤️ It really took me a while, but on the bright side, it also got quite long (most of it is under the cut.) I hope it’s more or less what you were aiming for - it got angst-y, but there’s a happy ending.
The first part of this was also written for a writing exercise on discord, “Have your character write a letter to their younger self.” All of the fic was heavily inspired by this video, and by the song used in it, which also provided me with the title.
or maybe you were the ocean (when I was just a stone)
Teen and Up || Graphic Depictions of Violence || 5,7k words || AO3
Pairings: Sirius Black/James Potter; Sirius Black & Regulus Black
Tags: Regulus Black Lives; Fix It; Established Relationship; Angst with a Happy Ending
Summary: There are only two ways this can end, and James refuses both of them. Refuses to accept that they will die here, like this, joining the hundreds of dead bodies in their eternal grave; refuses to be the one who has to drag Sirius out of here, to tell him that he’s failed in the last second. To watch him shatter underneath the weight of his grief. ---  Kreacher does not like Master Regulus' plan. Kreacher has his orders about them, but they don't include a piece of parchment, meant to join Regulus the following day. Kreacher thinks there's only one person able to help, loath as he is to admit it.
Kreacher's right.
*
Dear “younger self,”
I would never write this if I wasn’t going to die tomorrow, but there is a strange urge to acknowledge everything in a place outside my own head, and this seems the easiest way. At least it is a dying wish easily fulfilled.
That is a horrible way to start a letter. I suppose it is of no consequence though, seeing that these words will disappear with me.
If I could give you only one piece of advice, it would be this; listen to Sirius. Listen to Sirius and go with him when he leaves – do anything, anything at all to get away from this house that has never been a home to either of you.
I know what you’re thinking; he abandoned you first. He is the one who replaced you. He made everything so much harder on himself with his stubbornness, his constant need to be contrary; by always stepping into the line of mother’s fury.
But he is also right, about so many things.
Most importantly though, he is right about this – no matter what you do, it will never be enough to make them proud. Not getting sorted into Slytherin, not upholding traditions and echoing their beliefs and, most of all, not joining the Dark Lord. Nothing will ever be enough.
You will only burn yourself up by trying; you will do everything that is expected of you and more, and it won’t be enough. You will do unspeakable things that leave you shaking for days on end, will wake you up every night with screams lodged behind your teeth and fear buried in your bones.
Will leave you aged decades within a year, and still mother will only stare at you blankly and ask where Sirius is.
You won’t know either, but you’ll wish you did. You will wish that you could find him, warn him, beg him for help. But not only will you have aged decades, you will have drifted away so far that there’s no way to go back anymore.
Not a point in trying either.
You may think that I’m dramatizing in typical Black manner, but to be honest, it’s still so much worse than it sounds.
Tomorrow, I will die in a cave, and nobody will know. Tomorrow, I will die in a cave, and all I’ll be remembered as is a spineless coward who has been wrong all along.
At least I won’t have to deal with Sirius’ ‘I told you so.’
I’d take a hundred of those if only to see that grin one more time.
There always is a choice, and there always are consequences. Sometimes, they just come for you as an army of Inferi and the Drink of Despair.
-          Regulus
* * *
Regulus doesn't know that Kreacher slips the letter out of his pocket later that night; doesn’t know that his always loyal elf is still searching for his least favourite family member when Regulus leaves for the last time, in the early hours of dawn.
Anything, anything at all to save Master Regulus.
* * *
James hears the crashes and the shouting already on the staircase, Sirius’ voice unmistakable. He breaks into a run, taking the steps two, three at a time, wand drawn and ready to fight whoever has found them.
An old, wrinkled house-elf is not what he expects to find sneering up at Sirius, and it effectively stops him in his tracks. Sirius doesn’t seem to notice him though, glaring down at the creature with so much hatred written over his face that James doesn’t dare let his guard down just yet.
“I’m not going to promise you anything without knowing what you want from me,” Sirius just spits, contempt dripping from his every word. His hands are shaking at his sides though, muscle in his jaw jumping, and James knows that this isn’t a usual threat.
Knows that there’s something personal in this because Sirius’ anger only ever burns bright and hot like this when he’s terrified; when there’s something on the line beyond his own life.
Sirius only ever loses control when it comes to his loved ones, and just like that, James knows whose elf this is; knows with startling certainty spreading through his lungs that this has the potential to break Sirius, and inevitably himself.
Neither of them has noticed him yet, or at least not considered him noteworthy enough to avert their glares from each other, and James takes a second to take in the details.
The living room looks wrecked, books and papers littering the floor and the coffee table lying overturned. Sirius has a cut on his cheek, slowly oozing blood while the elf appears to be unharmed. It’s clenching a crumpled piece of parchment in one gnarled fist though, and underneath the disdain spilling from its eyes, James can make out a deep wariness.
“Sirius,” he says, taking a few steps into the room without lowering his wand. “I don’t think he’d be here if it wasn’t important.”
Because there’s only one reason James can come up with for the elf of the Blacks to appear in their home; only one reason, and he knows that Sirius knows it too, sees it in the thin line of his lips and the tightness of his shoulders.
“It could still be a trick,” Sirius presses out, not taking his eyes off the elf, and there’s a plea ringing in his words, desperation for it to not be what they both fear it is.
“Kreacher would not expose himself to the presence of filthy blood-traitors for – “
“Shut up!” Sirius snaps, eyes flashing, and James quickly wraps his fingers around his wrist. Looks at him and silently says, not now, not yet, it’s not worth it.
“What are the terms?” he asks out loud, glancing at the elf whose face twists as if contemplating if James is even worth answering to.
He seems to decide that it’ll have higher chances than with Sirius, though he turns his nose up when he speaks. “Kreacher has a message that was not intended to reach the – you. Kreacher will deliver it still, if the blood-traitor son promises to help.”
And yeah, that would be a problem, James thinks. Looks at Sirius and sees the conflict there, twitching fingers and working jaw, and thinks to hell with it.
“You were not ordered to not deliver it either, then?” he asks, because he might be reckless, but he’s not stupid; might be willing to risk everything and anything for Sirius every second of the day, but never once Sirius himself.
The elf’s sneer slips by a fraction. “Kreacher received no orders at all about the letter. Kreacher does want to add that time is an issue. He will be needing help soon.”
Sirius still doesn’t look convinced, but James knows what will happen if they refuse; knows that Sirius will run himself in circles, will drive himself mad with not knowing. Knows that it might be the deciding push to finally plunge them off the precipice this war has them balancing on.
Thinks that if it’s as bad as he thinks it is, refusing might end up being worse than whatever potential trap they’re about to walk into.
His grip on Sirius’ wrist tightens, but he doesn’t glance away from the elf when he says, “We accept. Give us the letter, and we’ll help.”
Sirius makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat but he’s also already gripping for the parchment, nearly tearing it in his haste.
James is barely able to take in the words with the way Sirius is shaking beside him, and still, all he can think is that it’s so, so much worse than he could’ve ever anticipated.
“Where,” Sirius finally chokes out, his face pale and haunted, and he’s swaying on his feet, knuckles white around his wand. “Where,” he repeats, voice breaking over the shout.
James does the only thing he can do; takes Sirius’ face between his hands and digs his fingers into his skin. Presses their foreheads together and says, “No, not like this.” Holds on even as Sirius struggles, eyes wild and caught so firmly between anger and desperation that it makes James’ heart ache. “You’ll kill us both like this,” he says, shaking him for good measure. Says, “Breathe,” again and again until Sirius finally starts listening, or at least accepting that it’s the only way James will let him out of this flat anytime soon.
“Better,” he finally allows, but he only lets his hand drop to Sirius’ wrist once more as he turns back to the elf.
There’s disdain again, but also poorly hidden relief, and James could honestly not care less about what a house-elf thinks of them right now.
“When is he planning to go?” Sirius asks, and his voice is still strained, full of fear buried underneath fury, but at least he’s thinking again.
Of course, it all flies out of the window when Kreacher answers, “He left an hour ago. Kreacher can take you to the entrance of the cave but not further.”
James doesn’t protest when Sirius snarls, “Take us,” doesn’t think that Kreacher would be willing to give them more information even if he’d get Sirius to listen for another second.
The words Inferi and Drink of Despair are still echoing through his head, and they’re mixing with the guilt that is already radiating off of Sirius in waves, mixing with it’s my fault, and I should’ve tried harder, and if he dies, it’s because of me, that he knows are running rampage in Sirius’ own head.
As they’re pulled into the Apparation, James silently lists defences against Inferi and poison, hoping that they’re the only things he will have to fight tonight.
The sounds hit him first; desperate, guttural sobs that seem to echo, magnified and thrown around between what turn out to be the smooth, dark walls of a large cave. There are pleas in between, broken off words and swallowed fractures, though through the seconds it takes them to orientate themselves, two words are repeated over and over.
Sirius, please.
The words twist themselves underneath James’ ribs, race down his spine, and still he is glad for them. They freeze Sirius in place just long enough for James to reach out and hold him back from storming straight into the water stretching out between them and the small island Regulus seems to be kneeling on.
A green glow coming from a basin spends just enough eerie light to illuminate Regulus’ trembling figure, curled in on himself and pleading, crying, screaming himself hoarse.
It’s only Kreacher’s voice that prevents James from having to outright fight Sirius to keep him where he is.
“There’s a boat,” he says. “It will only take one of you.”
“Can’t you take us?” James asks before Sirius can, one arm still tightly wrapped around his chest as his own stomach sinks, panic clawing its way slowly up his throat.
Kreacher’s jaw sets and he shakes his head. “The wards would be tripped, and Master Regulus forbade me from doing anything to alert him.”
There’s no way, no way in hell that James will let Sirius go alone, or leave him behind, and he spares a thought to curse whoever set up this nightmare of a setting. He has some suspicions but no time to really bother with them, Sirius already struggling again, glaring and spitting and snarling at James as if he’s seriously contemplating to hex him within the next few seconds.
He needs an answer, a solution, anything, but there’s nothing, and then there’s movement from the small island, the sudden sound of waves drawing their attention.
It shouldn’t be loud enough, shouldn’t drown out Regulus’ cries and Sirius’ curses, but still they both stop moving, eyes forcibly dragged to witness Regulus bowing low over the edge of the lake.
Grey hands are breaking the surface of the water, followed by heads and bodies, so many of them that they appear to be moving as one. The green light reflects on the dead skin, catching on empty eyes and white teeth, and James has to clench his jaw against the bile rising in his throat.
“Take us,” Sirius says, and his voice is cold all of a sudden, tightly controlled fury pressed into two words as he stares at Kreacher.
“Kreacher cannot – “
“Take. Us,” Sirius repeats, drawing himself up. “I command you to take us, or I swear by all that I hold dear, my mother will look like a bloody joke when I’m done with you.”
Kreacher’s still hesitating, visibly struggling with himself in a way that would give James a pause in different circumstances, but they’re losing time they can’t afford.
Regulus’ screams have turned hoarse, barely audible over the other noises filling up the cavern now, and it’s impossible to spot him any longer in between the throng of Inferi.
“You want him to survive as well, don’t you?” James tries, and there’s terror ringing through his words.
Finally, Kreacher nods, and they don’t get another second to prepare themselves for the lurch of Apparation; to question just who they’re alerting by tripping the wards.
Sirius twists out of his grip the second they have solid ground under their feet again, wand slashing through the air in ferocious precision. Still, for every cutting curse that hits its target, three more seem to appear, and the whole bulk of them is already moving back into the murky water.
“Fire,” James snaps, unceremoniously digging his elbow into Sirius’ side when he doesn’t seem to hear him. “Fire, but not directly at them, come on.”
An incantation rolls off Sirius’ tongue that James has only ever read about and his blood runs cold. His own movement slows and stops as he watches white-hot flames burst forward, rushing over the surface of the lake surrounding them, forming indistinct shapes.
“Sirius,” he tries, grabbing his arm. “Sirius,” he shouts, shaking him, but to no avail. There are no Inferi left in the vicinity of the island. No other bodies either but for Kreacher cowering by the basin, and James knows, knows that Sirius has noticed too. That he’ll burn the whole cave down, no matter how little it will serve an actual purpose, and himself with it if James lets him.
The light of the flames is breaking on Sirius’ face, all hard lines and pain etched into every crease as his eyes seem to burn, grey blazing just as bright.
There are only two ways this can end, and James refuses both of them. Refuses to accept that they will die here, like this, joining the hundreds of dead bodies in their eternal grave; refuses to be the one who has to drag Sirius out of here, to tell him that he’s failed in the last second. To watch him shatter underneath the weight of his grief.
It’s not a plan. It’s not even something he expects to work or to not go horribly wrong, but it’s the only thing he can think off beyond forcing Sirius to give up for his sake.
The Summoning Spell shouldn’t work on people, and the seconds after he casts tick by so very slowly. The heat keeps scorching his skin, licking at his hands and his face and supplying a painfully tangible warning of Sirius’ suffering.
Then there’s a ripple in the water close to them, a body hurling out of it and barrelling into James with a force that knocks him off his feet. Sharp stones are digging into his back, his head is thundering with the strength of the impact but he’s laughing, laughing and crying and only just making sure that it’s Regulus lying on top of him, unconscious but with breath brushing against James’ neck.
Somehow, he manages to climb back to his feet, pulling Regulus up as he goes. Manages to stumble through the thick smoke that’s curling through the air, through his lungs, threatening to choke them all before they can burn or drown.
A distant, hysterical corner of his mind that he tries to ignore as best as he can helpfully points out that it at least keeps out whoever created this cavern from hell, and he wants to laugh again.
Finally, he reaches Sirius, standing rigid at the very edge of the water with tears streaming down his face but wand still raised, staring straight into the flames. James wraps his free hand around his neck, pressing his nails into his skin and shaking him until Sirius finally turns his head to look at him.
It takes several seconds until the haze leaves Sirius’ eyes and they widen, realization bleeding into them, swiftly followed by guilt. James wants to feel relief, wants to reassure him that there’s nothing to be guilty about; wants to shove Regulus at him and shout, see, everything will be fine, you idiot. As if I’d ever let you down.
He’s not sure yet that he believes it himself though and does none of those things. Does only tighten his grip on both brothers and shouts for Kreacher, the words scraping against his raw throat, and he nearly slumps in relief when the elf appears next to them with wide, terrified eyes.
“Take us to our flat,” he orders, praying and begging silently that he will listen. The fire is breaking through the barrier Sirius must’ve kept up, heat already singing their clothes, and he thinks he can hear a shriek of rage even over the roaring of the flames.
The sight of Regulus must’ve convinced Kreacher because he doesn’t waste a second to grab the limp hand, and then the world is twisting, lurching, and the last thing James sees is white and red and yellow, and a person materializing out of black smoke in the spot they’re just leaving behind.
Regulus’ weight drags James down as soon as they land, and he pulls Sirius with him. The quiet and cold of their living room is like a punch, adrenaline snatched away with the sudden absence of heat.
For long moments, he’s unable to move, to do anything but breathe. Unable to comprehend that they made it out, all three of them still alive and here, maybe not unharmed but not on the bottom of a lake full of Inferi either.
“Is he - ?” Sirius breaks the silence, and when James turns his head to look at him, his eyes are clenched shut, hands still trembling where they press against the floor, and lips white with the force his teeth are biting into them.
“He’s breathing,” he answers quietly because he has no idea if Regulus is fine, will be fine again, and he can’t lie to Sirius, never could, not even about something like this.
Sirius gives a jerky nod, still not opening his eyes but reaching out a hand to wrap around James’ own so tightly that he can feel his bones shift. “I could’ve killed you. I could’ve killed you and you didn’t stop me.”
It’s not an accusation, not even a reprimand. It’s only horror, and guilt, and James wants to erase the previous hours from all of their minds. Wants to take all three of them far away from a family that pitches brothers against each other, from a war that’s eating away at all of them, and from whatever it is that led Regulus to the cave and his near self-sacrifice in the first place.
Wants to take them far away and forget about the terror that’s still woven tightly around his ribs, pressing into his lungs and choking up his throat with a grip so crushing, he’s not sure if it’ll ever leave again.
“As if I’d let you,” he finally chokes out, squeezing Sirius’ hand in return and pulling them both into a sitting position.
It falls flat and they both know it, but Sirius merely gives another nod and scrambles until he’s kneeling at Regulus’ side, hands shaking as they hover helplessly over his still body.
James wants to take them far away from here, or scream and rage until the memories don’t feel so achingly raw anymore, and does none of it. Instead, he pulls himself together with more effort than it’s ever taken him and knocks his head softly against Sirius’ in wordless reassurance.
Taking a deep breath, he starts pulling away Regulus’ torn robes. “Kreacher, could you get me the potions from the bathroom?” he asks when he finds deep gashes underneath the fabric, littering his arms and chest, bleeding into their faded blue carpet.
The elf disappears, the crack of his Apparition startling Sirius out of his shock. The following minutes pass in silence, both of them working on closing the wounds, dispelling the water from Regulus’ lungs, and checking for invisible injuries.
After Kreacher reappears with the potions, he watches them closely but otherwise stays silent and keeps his distance, hands wrung tight into the hem of the pillowcase he’s wearing.
“That’s it,” James finally says, sitting back on his haunches and rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion. “Some of it will scar, but he should wake up soon.”
At least he hopes so; neither of them is a Healer even if they’d inevitably picked up the basics since leaving Hogwarts. He doesn’t want to consider what would happen if he doesn’t.
Sirius doesn’t answer, merely sits back to lean against the back of the couch and carefully moving Regulus until his head is resting in Sirius’ lap.
For long moments, James only watches the slow movements of Sirius’ hand carding through Regulus’ hair, the way his eyes keep roaming over his body as if expecting new injuries to appear. Watches how two of his fingers stay pressed against Regulus’ pulse point at his throat, hand twitching every other second.
Eventually though, James forces himself back to his feet, legs trembling underneath him as he makes his way into the kitchen. His throat is parched, his eyes are still burning from the smoke, and he knows that Sirius must be in a similar state; knows that he won’t get up and take care of himself until Regulus opens his eyes because it’s what he’d do if it was James lying there.
It’s what James would do if the roles were reversed, and that’s a scenario he shoves away as best as he can whenever the thought so much as tries to form.
When he steps back into the room with two glasses of water and PepperUp Potion, Sirius is still in the same position, but he’s talking quietly, words barely audible. “Come on, lionheart, you have to wake up. I owe you several I told you so’s, remember?” he’s just saying, voice rough and still so, so heavy with regrets.
“Sir-us?”
James freezes where he’s just sitting down next to them, nearly forgetting to keep up the levitation spell, and watches with fear and relief warring in his chest as Regulus’ eyelids flutter, eyes slowly blinking open to reveal a grey several shades darker than Sirius’.
“You idiot,” is the first thing Sirius chokes out, his grip on Regulus’ shoulder visibly tightening, and in spite of everything, James smiles faintly. “You complete, utter idiot, how could you?”
Regulus’ eyes widen, his body going rigid while his hands curl into fists at his sides. “What – where – “
“You nearly died,” Sirius spits before James can even think about answering, and he winces at the note of anger creeping back into Sirius’ tone. “What were you thinking? If Kreacher hadn’t – “
“Kreacher came to you?” Regulus interrupts, surprisingly alert all of a sudden as he sits up, and James wonders if it’s only adrenaline that’s fuelling him. He twists so he can keep looking at them, pushing himself onto his knees, and his eyes flicker between them as fear and disbelief chase each other over his expression. “I – you – you got me out of the cave?”
Before Sirius can answer, James reaches out to squeeze his knee.
Sirius swallows, eyes closing briefly, but his voice is much calmer when he says, “Yes, though if it wasn’t for James, I doubt – we only arrived when you – when the Inferi attacked you.”
Regulus’ expression doesn’t change, confusion and wariness still shining in his eyes. “But how – I forbade Kreacher from telling anyone and anyway, why? Why would you – “
Care is what he doesn’t say, what he doesn’t have to say if the flinch from Sirius is anything to go by.
James watches out of the corner of his eye as Sirius’ jaw clenches and unclenches, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his legs, and he eventually draws his shoulders back.
“Because you’re my brother. And I – even though I never regretted leaving Grimmauld’s, I regretted leaving you behind. That we grew apart so badly and I – that you thought you couldn’t come to me with whatever insane thing you were attempting tonight. Because the thought of you dying – I couldn’t – I’d never let that happen,” Sirius finally says, his voice quiet but gaze boring into Regulus’.
Regulus stares with wide eyes, a frown etched between his brows as if he isn’t quite sure that any of this is real. “But you’re – I’m everything you hate,” he finally spits, face twisting into a snarl while his hands tremble at his sides. “I joined the Dark Lord! I did things so horrible, you wouldn’t – “ he chokes off, turning his head away.
James thinks it’s startling how similar the two of them are, after all, despite everything. He’s itching to make this easier for both of them, but all he can do is press his leg against Sirius’ and hope that it’ll be enough to get through this.
“And you realised what a shit-choice that was,” Sirius shoots back, and for the briefest of seconds, his lips twitch into a smile. “I told you so, by the way.”
Regulus’ head whips back around, and James wants to bury his face in his hands.
“The letter,” Regulus whispers, his whole posture slumping. “Of course. I should’ve – “
“If you finish that sentence, I’ll kill you myself,” Sirius growls, then shakes his head and huffs. “I just – are you really so keen to die that you wouldn’t even consider asking me for help?”
There’s desperation bleeding through his words now, and Regulus must’ve heard it too because his head snaps up, his hand twitching as if he wants to reach out.
“It’s not – no,” he presses out, running a hand over his face. “But I – not only didn’t I expect you to believe me, it’s also dangerous. More dangerous than this war already is, and you have a traitor in your precious Order and I couldn’t – he’ll hunt me down anyway.“
“You betrayed Voldemort,” James says before Sirius can, the final pieces clicking into place, and it reminds him of the flash of white skin materialising just as they’d left the cave behind.
Regulus flinches at the name and seems to hesitate. Eventually, he nods, resolve hardening his features. “He’s mad, completely, utterly mental. I just – I couldn’t do it anymore and when Kreacher – when I found out something important, something that could help bring him down, I – “ he pauses, biting his lips. Takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before looking back at Sirius. “I thought I could at least do one good thing. What does it matter if I die in a raid, in a cave, or because he decides to kill me?”
“Because I couldn’t bear to lose you!” Sirius snaps. “Because it was already bad enough to lose you once, and I won’t let Voldemort, or anyone else for that matter, lay a fucking hand on you, alright? And you’ll better get used to that, you complete idiot, because I won’t make the same mistake twice.”
There’s a beat of silence in which the words seem to ring through the room, and then a dry sob wrenches itself out of Regulus’ throat, his hand flying up to press against his mouth.
Sirius instantly moves forward, wrapping his arms around Regulus and burying his head in the crook of his neck, his own shoulders shaking. It takes only a second until Regulus’ arms come up, his hands clenching in the fabric of Sirius’ hoodie as if holding on for dear life.
James watches, something loosening in his chest, and when he looks at Kreacher for the first time since Regulus woke up, there’s barely any disdain left on his old face.
The two of them stay in their embrace for a long time, murmuring to each other so quietly that James can’t make out the words.
As much as he wants to give them their time, to leave them to make up for all those lost years, there’s still a memory at the forefront of his mind that is impossible to ignore. He doesn’t want to think about it, wants to think about nothing but all three of them being alive and well, but if he truly wants to keep it that way, they still have more important things to worry about first.
Clearing his throat and flashing them a strained, apologetic smile, he waits until he has both of their attention. “I’m not sure that we weren’t seen just before we disappeared.”
All the blood drains from Regulus’ face and he flinches back as if he’s been slapped. His hand finds Sirius’ arm, fingers twisting into his sleeve, and James’ heart aches at having to do this at all.
Sirius’ features only harden, jaw setting and lips pressing into a thin line.
James knows what he’s going to say and shakes his head. “We have to leave,” he says, raising his hand to stall Sirius’ protest. “We could go into hiding, but Regulus is right. We have a traitor in the Order, and whatever it is Regulus attempted to do tonight, you and I both know that it was too well-guarded to draw anything but Voldemort’s utmost attention.”
“A Horcrux,” Regulus says quietly, turning his head to send Sirius a look full of meaning that’s lost on James. “Did you take a locket, by any chance?”
“A Horcrux,” Sirius echoes, his voice suddenly hoarse again, and he slowly shakes his head. “We didn’t but I – well I guess it got probably caught up in the Fiendfyre.”
“You – “ Regulus starts, then cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Never mind. James is right though, we can’t stay here. We have to – I need to, I’m – “ he stammers, hands starting to shake and fear filling his eyes.
Sirius’ eyes meet James’, and he finds the same resolve that he’s feeling mirrored back at him, a silent, old promise between the two of them that now includes a third one.
“My parents had a house in the middle of nowhere in Iceland,” he says, a plan starting to take shape in his mind. “We’ve never been there but I know the coordinates to create a Portkey, and that there are a few elves who’ve taken care of it over the years.”
“I should be able to ward it and make it unplottable,” Sirius picks up, already getting to his feet and dragging Regulus with him. “We’ll contact Dumbledore, get a message to him with the information we have and that we’re leaving, nothing more.”
“What about mother?” Regulus asks, the panic receding even though there’s still uncertainty in his eyes. “I know you don’t care but if he saw me, if I disappear…”
Sirius sighs, closing his eyes briefly, but he nods. “Send Kreacher back, order him to not tell anyone but report to her that he hasn’t seen you in days. Voldemort won’t outright kill her if she doesn’t know what’s going on, the support of the family is too important for him.”
There’s a beat of silence as Regulus and Sirius stare at each other, but eventually, Regulus nods, exhaling a sigh. “I hope you’re right.”
Summoning parchment, James hands it to him. “Write down everything you know about – whatever it is you were talking about; I’ll call one of the Potter elves to deliver it later. We’re going to pack a few things, I think Sirius has some clothes that should fit you.”
Regulus nods, fiddling with the quill, and James decides to leave him to it. Just as he and Sirius are about to leave the room, Regulus calls, “Wait!”
Turning back around, James watches him, hoping that there won’t be another argument coming; it’s all a mess already, all of them running on their last reserves of strength, and they can’t afford to lose any more time.
“Thank you,” Regulus says, the words quiet but sincere.
James smiles, but it’s Sirius who answers. “Always.”
As soon as the door to their bedroom closes behind them, Sirius twists, pushing James against the wood and crashing their mouths together.
His own hands come up on instinct, wrapping around Sirius’ waist, and he keeps his eyes closed even as Sirius pulls back to lean their foreheads together.
“We’d all be dead without you,” Sirius chokes out, voice breaking over the words, and his fingers press against James’ jaw so harshly that it’s bordering on painful. “We’d be all dead, and now we have to leave everything behind. Are you – I won’t force you to come with us.”
James huffs a laugh, wet and nearly hysterical. “Merlin, sometimes you’re such an idiot,” he presses out, his own throat closing up. “I’d go anywhere with you, anywhere at all. You should know that by now. And we’ll be safe. At least, we’ll finally be safe.”
The last words linger in his mind, circling as they haphazardly throw clothes and trinkets into bags, packing up only what they’ll need most. Linger as they send off the letter to Dumbledore and create a Portkey out of the mug that Lily gave them as a house-warming gift. As the three of them grab it tightly and are whisked away.
Circle through his mind still, as they set foot into the small cottage at the foot of a mountain, waves crashing in the distance, dark wood cracked with age but warm and cosy and safe.
They’ll be safe.
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astxlphe-fics · 5 years ago
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Pink Flowers  // Fukumori
Mori had his feelings for Fukuzawa cut out of him years ago. Hanahaki AU
Word count : ~1700
CW some blood, one murder, one medical malpractice 
When they’re younger, when they’re still a doctor and his bodyguard, Mori is the target of many attempted murders and kidnappings.  
Despite his constant misgivings about bodyguarding, despite the simple fact that Mori doesn’t, actually, need any kind of rescuing, Fukuzawa comes for him.  
Every single time.  
Then they fight together, back to back, as a team, against threats to the fragile balance of Mori’s world, of the neutrality of his underground clinic.  
It’s during those fights that Mori realizes than yes, sometimes he needs Fukuzawa by his side, and that he enjoys his company. They collapse, letting themselves fall sitting on the ground, side by side, bloody and tired.  
Mori sighs and there is a tingle in his throat.  
He doesn’t think much of it, barely notices it, but he does feel the beginning of a fondness for the man.  
+  
The itch at the back of his throat takes months to turn into a full cough, and he spits out the first petal in his own sink, thankfully.  
Having a patient around while he discovers his own illness would be less than ideal. Rumors go fast in the underbelly of Yokohama, and if the news escape his office it’ll quickly make its way to his enemies.  
He picks it up and studies it carefully.  
“How bothersome,” he declares, throwing it in the trash.  
But what can he do about it?  
There are several things he can do, in fact.  
First option — kill Fukuzawa before this disease takes a hold of him. But it’ll upset Natsume, and he isn’t sure he is capable of killing his bodyguard.  
Second option — get rid of the feeling altogether. While this is something he can eventually do on his own, letting it fade, an operation would be a sure way to fix the issue. The problem: he can’t operate himself.
Third option — seduce the man. Make sure that what Mori apparently feels for him is returned. Keep him by his sides, for good.  
This thought is infinitely more appealing than the first two.  
He doesn’t have to decide immediately. He doesn’t want to.  
“What do you think, Elise?”  
She looks up from her picture book. “I think you’re gross.”  
His laughter makes him cough again. Another petal comes out, and he thinks of every possibility again. He thinks of Fukuzawa, of the flowers fading from his lungs as the man holds him close.  
He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. Hanahaki isn’t a kind illness, but it’s considerate enough to make the killing slow.  
+  
Elise doesn’t start looking worried until a few months later, when he wakes up gasping for breath, petals sticking to the back of his throat and spilling out of his mouth.  
Her reaction tells him the situation might become critical soon.  
It’s more anger than worry, to be fair, and she throws some of his tools to the ground in a fit of rage. “Just kill him!” she yells, before crossing her arms and setting her face into a pout. “I’m starting to feel sick too, so get rid of him before he kills the both of us.”  
He would, usually, cave in to whatever Elise demands of him. He loves her, after all, and anything she wants is worth getting for her.  
But not this. This is something he can’t give her.  
+  
By the time Fukuzawa finds out about Yosano, Mori is throwing up whole flowers. It’s starting to affect his work, but it doesn’t look like Fukuzawa has noticed.  
If he has, he hasn’t said anything about it, which is fine by Mori.  
They fight — of course they fight, but it’s not like they usually do.  
Everyday fighting is banter and annoying each other, it’s Fukuzawa coming for him every time he gets into trouble, no matter how much he doesn’t need it.  
Everyday fighting makes the flowers in Mori’s lungs grow larger. It makes Mori want this man to love him.  
His chest tightens, thinking about what they have the potential to be, about how much they could do for this city just by being together, about the kind of embrace he could give him.
Fukuzawa draws his sword, and Mori almost chokes, swallowing down the flowers threatening to fall from his lips.
There is no fixing it now.  
+  
Their partnership broken, the illness gains more ground, with no hope of recovery through more...traditional means.  
It quickly becomes urgent to do something about it. The flowers are larger than ever, and if he was a lesser man, he would cry thinking about what they could have been, he would go back to Fukuzawa and ask him to reconsider, to come back to him.  
Gritting his teeth, he closes his eyes, grieving for a relationship that doesn’t exist, which was doomed from the day he threw up that first petal.
He is not a lesser man, however. He shoves his own fingers down his throat to drag the flowers out. They clog the sink, bloodied and of a horribly cheerful pink color.  
How those feelings have made him weak. They make him sick with a deadly disease, shift his focus, make him yearn for something he knows he can never have.  
He needs to get rid of them as soon as he can.  
“Look at you!” Elise scolds him. “I told you, we should have killed him.”  
“I’m sorry Elise.” He smiles at her sheepishly, because she is right. He should have dealt with it a long time ago. He just hadn’t wanted to.  
They make him irrational.  
There are other underground doctors in the city, though none of them as skilled, none of them as reputed, as he is. He will find someone to take care of it.  
She scowls, eyebrows drawing together, and she tugs at his sleeve. “You’re so stupid, Rintarou.”  
+  
The other doctor is surprised to see him, of all people, but he gets to work quickly. He looks smug, knowing such a thing about Mori Ougai, about the weakness taking over him.  
He will use it against him, in the future, if he can.  
Mori doesn’t let him entertain the idea.  
He refuses any kind of anesthetics, unwilling to put himself at the mercy of another person with a scalpel, and Elise stands guard. The other doctor underestimates her, but Mori knows she can recognize any suspicious medical action and rise up to protect him with barely any prompting.  
The doctor opens him up and fixes him, and the pain means nothing when he’s finally getting rid of the feelings he has for Fukuzawa Yukichi, for they have been weighing on him since the beginning, far more than he ever admitted to.  
When it’s done, he’s both curious and satisfied to realize that what he feels is now little more than indifference. Everything he has wished for since the start, to have him standing by his side, for lips on his skin and to be the only one in his eyes, seems ludicrous now. A waste of time and energy.  
He cuts the doctor’s throat once he’s done and looks for any witness. Then, he puts Fukuzawa out of his mind, and moves on.  
His work won’t do itself. He has a Mafia boss to take care of.  
Time to get down to business.  
+  
"It’s a pity.”  
Blood seeps out of Fukuzawa’s neck, and Mori is regretful, surprising even himself, though it’s not as personal as it could have been, once.  
His feelings for Fukuzawa were cut out of him years ago.  
Without this virus, they could have been a team again and crushed those rats with ease. They were always a deadly combination, so this is nothing but a missed opportunity.  
But first comes the security and well-being of his own, and any feeling he allows himself those days is for them, for the Mafia — and for Elise, of course, but she is something else entirely.
He still apologizes for cheating. He may not love the man anymore, but he respects his strength and a fair fight would have ended in Mori’s defeat. It’s not something he can allow again, not with so much at stake.
All he needs now, is to wait for Elise to pop back up into existence, stay here until Fukuzawa dies — it’s the least he can do for his old teammate — and prepare for the rage of the Detective Agency.  
Until Natsume shows up to scold them and drags them away to Dostoievski’s hideout.  
Later, as they’re on their way, it’s plain in the way Natsume looks at him that he knows. Mori doesn’t care. He has done what needed to be done.  
Elise reappears soon after, and he gives her a hug that she pretends to protest to. She will always be the most constant thing in his life, the only one who he knows will stand by him until his last breath.  
+  
The virus fades, and the ability user at the origin of it tries to run. Fukuzawa and Mori grab him before he can, together, like old times.
It makes Fukuzawa nostalgic, in a sense. He misses the team they used to be, before they each took a different walk of life. Before he learned of Yosano.
A part of him wishes that, when this is over, when they have won against Dostoievski, they can stay this way — a little bit of a team, again.
He wonders what Dazai is planning, forcing Akutagawa and Atsushi together.  
Both boys are like rough diamonds, and Dazai is playing a dangerous game, hitting them against each other like this. There is little he can do but trust Dazai’s judgement and hope the sparks he makes don’t start too big of a fire.
Though, knowing him, he would probably say it’s the point.
Mori, he can tell, is thinking the same, though he doesn’t speak of it. He catches him glancing at the pair, eyes lingering on Atsushi, and Fukuzawa can’t blame him for it. He’s just as doubtful of the black-clad young man with whom his subordinate already seems to have a quiet understanding.
The Mafia leaves. Fukuzawa watches as Mori’s red scarf billows in the wind.  
There is an itch in his throat.  
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persephonemine · 5 years ago
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RP Masterlist
Plots. Prompts. AUs. Tropes. What have you.
#YAS #UNF-- GOOD SHIT #👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 GOOD SHIT GO౦Ԁ SHIT👌 THATS ✔ SOME GOOD👌👌SHIT RIGHT👌👌THERE👌👌👌 RIGHT✔THERE ✔✔IF I DO ƼAҮ SO MY SELF 💯 I SAY SO �
Please know this: These will be updated from time to time! Many of these plots I’ve worked hard on and am eager to try out. Yes, a lot of them are romantic or darkly romantic -- sorry. Most of these can be altered to fit whatever we want. Some of them will be pretty hard to RP, I recognize. Whoops! Plenty of these can be really angsty, dark, and well -- hopefully we can have some fun with that.
                                                         Plots.
“Take it Back” // Pink Floyd Post-Apocalyptic AU Ten or so years after the Zombie Outbreak.
“The Scout.”
1.) Muse A is from a well secured township and is sent to scout as to why its sister location has gone radio silent. They run into Muse B on the way. Do they work together and travel to the sister location or is Muse B the reason the sister location is down?
1.2) If Muse B is the cause of the fall of the sister location, why? What were the reasons? What happened behind closed doors of that township?
“Supplies.”
2.) Muse A is on a supply run and runs into Muse B. Do they decide to band together for survival or do they fight for the supplies Muse A has found? 2.1.) Muse A is on a supply run and runs into Muse B. Muse B is wounded and Muse A manages to rescue and heal Muse B. Do they stick together afterwards or does Muse B skip town?
2.2) Muse B tells Muse A of their plans to go to a place that is claimed to be some sort of sanctuary by someone on the radio they’ve found. Muse A decides to accompany Muse B. Is it truly sanctuary or is there something rotten afoot?
“Provisions.”
3.) Muse B is caught by Muse A for hoarding rations and keeping more than their fair share. In a desperate attempt to keep Muse A from outing them and potentially being ejected from the group, Muse B confides in them that they’re pregnant and unsure of how they’re going to be able to survive with a child and so have kept extras for future use.
3.1) Muse A decides to kick it up a notch and has quickly placed themselves at Muse A’s side and vows to fulfill whatever roles Muse B needs, spouse, parent, provider, etc.
“Just a peek.” Life Could Be A Dream // The Crew-Cuts
1.) Muse B gets a furtive glance of the future. They see a fulfilling, wonderful life with Muse A -- kids, house, stability, true love, real happiness. Do they want it? Is this something they’ve dreamt of? Is it something they want with Muse A? Or is it something they never considered before? Something they never wanted at all? Do they pursue it or do they fight it? 
1.2) Muse B and Muse A do not get along or are enemies. What changes in Muse B’s behaviour after seeing the vision or do they maintain their stance?
1.3) Muse B got the vision wrong -- and it is not their future with Muse A but instead Muse C’s. Do they attempt to take it for themselves or let it go?
“Pack it up.” Send Me On My Way // Rusted Root
1.) The muses have to live with each other for some reason or another despite not liking each other. They’ve got to make it work. The apartment is cramped with only one bathroom. It’s up to them to make it into a cozy home. The muses must decorate and furnish their new apartment. To the shopping centers they go! 1.2) Muse A has been standoffish, cold towards Muse B for whatever reasons until they see Muse B do mundane, domestic, pedestrian things and finds themselves quickly falling for them. 1.3) Muse B has been nursing a crush on Muse A but due to Muse A’s standoffish nature towards them, they never let their feelings be known.
“If you go, I’ll stay. If you come back, I’ll be right here.” Where’s My Love // SYML Reincarnation!AU 
1.) The muses have spent every lifetime together, whether they know it or not. From their first incarnation, throughout every era, they have found each other, fought for each other, and loved each other. They’ve belonged together in any form. This time, it’s different… Muse A remembers all their past lives with Muse B. They know that they’re missing Muse B in this lifetime -- where are they?
1.2) Muse B is with someone else and it’s up to Muse A to win them back. Do they tell them of their past lives? How are they going to get the love of their lives back to where they belong: with them?
“Funnel cake madness.” Younger // Tony Anderson
1.) The muses go to the carnival! Rides, food, fireworks, and showing off at the games to win each other stuffed animals.
“Someone to stay.” Amnesia!AU Crimson and Clover // Tommy James and the Shondells
1.) Muse A suffers from amnesia and must rely on Muse B for just about everything.
1.2) Dark! Muse A actually doesn’t know Muse B and Muse B chooses to falsify memories and a whole life together with Muse A.
“absentia” The Night We Met // Lord Huron
1.) Muse A suddenly vanishes but no one is talking about it. Muse B is absolutely panicked over this as Muse A is special to them. But no one even recalls Muse A and think Muse B is losing it. Was Muse A even real or were they someone Muse B created to deal with trauma? Looking through photos and videos, there is no Muse A. When Muse B is about to accept that Muse A was never real… they find an old wallet photo of Muse A and Muse B together.
1.2) Muse B has a choice. Show others of this proof of Muse A or keep it hidden. Who is in on Muse A’s vanishing and erasure of their life? How will Muse B get them back? How far will they go to reclaim what’s theirs?
“Operation: Romance their pants off.” Fake Date!AU Tonight You Belong To Me // Patience and Prudence
1.) Muse A goes to Muse B to help them woo Muse C. Muse B is secretly in love with Muse A but they just want them to be happy, so they suck it up, and help Muse A.
1.2) Muse A decides the best way to get Muse C’s attention is through jealousy and convinces Muse B to fake date them.
1.3) Eventually it comes to light as to what Muse A is up to. Muse A made a move on Muse C and Muse C wants to know why Muse A is trying to cheat on Muse B. Muse A fesses up to what’s been happening and Muse C laughs it off and accidentally outs Muse B’s romantic feelings towards Muse A.
1.4) OR -- Muse A begins developing feelings for Muse B as they fake date and they have to figure out a way to stop fake-dating and start real-dating.
“Oh, god. It’s you.” Mr. Sandman // SYML
1.) Muse B does a summoning spell to locate their one true love. Muse A appears. These two do not get along. Confusion is had.
1.2) Muse A wants to know what the spell was. Muse B refuses to say.
1.3) Bonus. Muse B has done the spell wrong and now Muse A cannot go too far from them, forcing them to live together, work together, etc. Muse B starts to see why they’re their true love in the pedestrian, domestic, everyday things they witness Muse A doing.
“Second chances.” Mona
1.) After a one night stand, Mona doesn’t think she’s going to see Muse B ever again -- until she finds out she’s pregnant. Having fertility issues, she sees this as a second chance and seeks out Muse B to tell them she is keeping the offspring whether they want to be a part of it or not.
1.2) Muse B wants to be a part of the pregnancy and the child’s life, and so Mona moves in with them to give the relationship a shot, platonic or otherwise. 
“The Guy in the American Flag Onesie.” Josette
1.) Freshly new to this dimension, Jo attempts to settle into a typical terran life. But she’s no idea who all these heroes are. Watching the news at a diner, she cracks a joke about not knowing who Captain America is.
1.2) Overhearing this, someone sits down across from her, and tells her just who Captain America is -- from Steve Rogers himself.
                                                       AUs.
Grease Arranged Marriage Mermaid Fake Date Bodyguard Fake Engagement Love Potion Undercover Couple Wrongfully Convicted/Hiding from the Law College High School Soulmates [ fave ] Zombie Reincarnation Amnesia Time Traveling Roommates Forced Roommates Suddenly Parents Royalty (Victorian, Elizabethan, Medieval, Modern, etc) Spies Assassins Werewolf/Vampire ABO Yandere
                                                      Pairings.
Bad Guy/Good Girl Good Guy/Bad Girl Bad Guy/Bad Girl Neighbors Friends to lovers Friends with benefits to lovers Love at first sight Enemies to lovers Hero/Villain Hero/Civilian Hero/Antihero Villain/Civilian Teacher/Student Age Gap [legal!] Supernatural Creature/Human Supernatural Creature/Supernatural Creature Friends to enemies to lovers
                                       Prompts // Tropes.
Friends to enemies to lovers.
Magic Made Me Do It!
reverse fake dating: very in love couple has to pretend they’re not actually together.
Seasonal Things: Carving pumpkins, going on hayrides, going to haunted houses, trick ‘r treating, gift shopping, skiing, camping, hanging up Christmas lights, etc.
Mutual Pining. [ fave ]
The hero and villain falling in love.
Slowburn. [ f a v e ]
soft/hard: basically where one character is cold, ruthless, driven, and other is kind, forgiving, and gentle. Just complete opposites. How the cold one can be merciless to everyone else except the one person they love and how fiercely loyal and loving they are towards that person. On the flip side, the soft person soothes the cold one and has a way to make them feel truly happy, truly at peace for the first time in their lives. [ f a v e ]
Grungy, rogue, uncivilized Muse A and the proper, tidy, law-abiding Muse B falling in love with one another.
Opposites attract.
Blind dates.
Age differences.
Height differences.
You bonded with my kid and now we’re kind of a couple. [ fave ] // my kid adopted the quiet loner at the park and now I kinda have a boyfriend. [ fave ]
Mistaken identity. Shy muse and outgoing muse.
                                                       Songs.
I Found // Amber Run Into Dust // Mazzy Star Take it Back // Pink Floyd Coming Back to Life // Pink Floyd High Hopes // Pink Floyd Show Me Love // Laura Mvula Your Way Is The Way Home // Tired Pony Younger // Tony Anderson Tonight You Belong To Me // Patience and Prudence Mr. Sandman // SYML Where is my love? // SYML Body // SYML Life Could Be A Dream // The Crew-Cuts Be My Baby // The Ronettes yes to heaven // Lana Del Rey Crimson and Clover // Tommy James and the Shondells Crazy On You // Heart The Night We Met // Lord Huron Send Me On My Way // Rusted Root Where Is My Mind? // Pixies Someone to Stay // Vancouver Sleep Clinic Night Moves // Bob Seger Nights In White Satin // The Moody Blues Bad Blood // Neil Sedaka & Elton John Rocket Man // Elton John To Build a Home // The Cinematic Orchestra You // The Pretty Reckless I'm On Fire // Bruce Springsteen When the Night is Over // Lord Huron Hurts Like Hell // Fleurie
If anything here catches your interest, hit me up! I also have a discord I don’t mind sharing. :)
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commentaryvorg · 5 years ago
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Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 6.9
Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.
Last time as we got even deeper into the fiction reveals of trial 6, I tried probably too hard to justify the auditionees’ nonsensical ideas of how any of this even works, those assholes were nonetheless not the same people as our friends in here in any meaningful way, Tsumugi’s claim that she scripted Maki’s feelings for Kaito was total bullshit but still hit Maki right in the issues about being her own person, her similarly bullshit claim that Kaede and Kaito were never real hit Shuichi right in his own dependency issues, the audience completely stopped being even remotely believable human beings in their reactions to this, and Shuichi broke down and needs to reboot.
While we’re waiting for that to happen, we’ll have to make do with Keebo.
BAD END
Keebo:  “Is this the end? Please tell me. I’m asking you.”
I suppose we’re meant to believe that the Bad End message is something that Keebo sees? Which seems kind of odd. Or maybe it’s just something that the in-universe audience were shown through Keebo’s eyes.
But it also kind of reads as more of an out-universe thing, since we the players are the only ones playing this as an actual game that could potentially have bad endings. This kind of gives this the effect that Keebo is also speaking to us, the out-universe audience, and that we’ve been his inner voice this whole time. Which doesn’t actually make sense – if we’ve been anyone’s inner voice it’s been Shuichi’s, but that’s obviously not really an in-universe thing.
This is probably for the sake of trying to fool us into feeling like the in-universe audience is a force for good, just like Keebo is going to still naively believe for a while. Not sure how convincing that is after a proportion of the audience last time had absolutely zero empathy with Shuichi’s despair, though.
Keebo:  “Whenever I was in trouble, my inner voice would always guide me. That guidance is what brought me here. I don’t believe that’s a mistake.”
His inner voice’s guidance has done fuck all to bring him here. He’s here because he was lucky enough that nobody happened to try to murder him, and sensible enough not to kill anyone himself. I would like to give Keebo enough credit to think that he didn’t need his inner voice to talk him out of murder (…well, at least until this chapter, apparently). All the voice has done is make his actions a bit more proactive and optimistic, but that has meaningfully affected basically nothing of note that’s happened here.
Save this situation?
-      No
Remedy this situation?
-      Yes
It is perhaps a little confusing that you’re meant to say no to the first prompt, because one might have already realised that it’s not necessarily a literal save-the-game prompt and is instead talking about saving Keebo’s friends. This probably works better in Japanese, in which the first word is the English loanword “save”, which I don’t think has any meanings other than the save-the-game meaning, and then it changes to an actual Japanese word for save/rescue/ etc.
Keebo:  “My inner voice is telling me I need to… remedy this situation.”
Apparently this is very much not the same part of the audience that was just mindlessly and sadistically laughing about Shuichi’s despair last time. Since Keebo’s inner voice is an audience survey, it must be a majority that wants this instead, which means we have to assume that those comments we saw before were deliberately cherry-picked to be all the despair-loving ones.
At least this does a decent job of actually making the in-universe audience feel like the good guys, then, since they don’t want Shuichi and friends to be in despair. It makes them seem that way for now, at least.
Oh hey, here’s the music from Danganronpa 1 that was essentially Makoto’s “objection” theme. Of course that’s showing up in this game now. Keebo is basically supposed to be playing Makoto’s role, after all. (Emphasis on supposed.)
Keebo:  “We can’t give up. No matter what, hope is always within reach. We must keep our heads high and search for hope, even in the deepest despair.”
Aaaaaand it’s meaningless buzzword time! You can’t search for hope itself. The act of searching is hope, but only if you’re searching for something that will meaningfully, tangibly make your situation better!
Shuichi:  “Hope…?”
I wonder if Shuichi’s realising that what Keebo’s saying doesn’t mean anything and is wondering why he’s throwing this word around so eagerly for no reason. Nothing is going to give Shuichi hope without actually addressing the reason he’s in despair, encouraging him to believe that he’s not all just fictional and his friends weren’t just empty lies. Without that, Keebo is just spouting meaningless platitudes that won’t solve a thing.
Keebo:  “…You said so yourself – this killing game is the Ultimate Real Fiction. If this is both real and fiction, then logically it can’t all be fiction.”
This is an actually useful argument he’s making, at least. But he really shouldn’t need to use logical deduction from Tsumugi’s words to realise that obviously they’re still real in the sense that they exist and have physical bodies and will really die – and therefore that all of that applied to their friends who died, too.
Tsumugi:  “Oh, your inner voice? That’s the voice of the outside world.”
It should be a huge risk for her to be telling him this. Logically this should immediately lead to Keebo refusing to listen to anything his inner voice is saying to him. He won’t for a long while, though, because he’s apparently kind of an idiot. Or just very, very brainwashed. Or a bit of both.
Tsumugi:  “I know cuz I wrote your plotline, too.”
That’s not a “plotline”, that’s just a neat audience-participation feature. The actual plotline that Keebo would follow based on that is entirely up to the audience.
Tsumugi:  “You’re the audience surrogate.”
This might partly explain why Keebo’s character has always been rather vaguely defined and they never did much with all the interesting potential of him being a robot who’s trying his hardest to learn to be human: because he’s supposed to be a blank-slate self-insert for the in-universe audience to see themselves as. They’re obviously not going to be able to relate his thing of being a robot. Makoto and Hajime were both pretty ordinary guys without anything too overly distinctive about them because they were basically audience surrogates, too.
(And Kaede and Shuichi have far more distinct personalities and characters because they’re not audience surrogates like the previous two games’ protagonists were.)
“Hifumi”:  “That function exists to keep the audience entertained.”
Yes, because clearly they’d all have been super bored by this whole killing game if they hadn’t been giving Keebo meaningless nudges to be a little more optimistic from time to time. Nothing else about this game has been remotely entertaining without him, right!?
The hints earlier that Danganronpa might have been getting stale and on its last legs by now do support the idea that this is something they did to try and keep people interested, but Tsumugi is still giving herself way too much credit here.
“Chihiro”:  “It’s two-way communication that lets you participate in the program from home.”
Oh, boy, is this the line that’s supposed to justify how Shuichi will ultimately change the outside world by yelling at them a bunch – because he does it through Keebo’s nebulous “communication” feature? Yeah, because that’s totally so different from them simply listening to him because they’re watching this trial.
Tsumugi:  “The outside world has been watching from your eyes the whole time! It lets them feel like they’re really a part of the Danganronpa world!”
This cannot be the whole truth. For one thing, if they’ve only ever seen through Keebo’s eyes, then outside of trials, the audience must have been really, really bored? All of the interesting character interactions – all of the watching Shuichi grow and develop which was in-universely meant to be one of the main plotlines of this story – happened nowhere near Keebo. The audience should have been poking Keebo to hang out with more people, maybe get closer to Shuichi, so that they could actually see any of that.
(Although the fact that Keebo apparently spent more of his time with Miu than anyone else is… unfortunately probably quite an accurate representation of what an audience would do. I have seen way too many LPers of this game hang out with Miu for reasons that completely elude me because why would anyone ever want more of her than necessary unless they’re shallowly taken in by the fanservice. I feel very bad for the sensible minority watching through Keebo’s eyes who were fed up with her but didn’t have enough of a majority vote to do anything about it.)
But that collage of illustrations we had a while ago that Tsumugi presented as part of “Danganronpa V3” rather proves that Keebo’s camera is not the audience’s only viewing option. Why would they want to limit the viewers to just that when they have Nanokumas everywhere and could be giving them the choice to follow whichever character they want? And since the Nanokumas are so invisible and mobile that they can get any angle, watching via them would also make one feel as though they’re really in the Danganronpa world anyway, even if it’s not literally through a character’s eyes.
Tsumugi:  “That’s why I’m so glad you survived all the way through!”
What the hell were you planning to do if he didn’t? Did you not even have any kind of failsafe in place to try and make sure nobody happened to murder him?
“Junko”:  “If the audience surrogate falls into despair, then the audience does, too. By making you fall into despair, I can make the entire world fall into despair!”
That’s, uh, not how audience surrogates work. The audience only feels the same thing their surrogate characters feel through the power of empathy and imagination, but that’s not the same thing as actually being in despair when their character is. If anything, seeing Keebo fall into despair should just make the audience cheer more for him to not give up and keep having hope. You know, just like they should also be cheering for Shuichi and his friends to not despair right now, if they were a halfway reasonable and decent audience.
“Junko”:  “My despair will turn from fiction to fact and destroy reality itself.”
However, Tsumugi most likely knows that this doesn’t make sense and is really just saying this to try and pander to the audience and make them feel like this matters. While it’s kind of half her fault for practically telling them herself, the characters in this story have completely messed up her script by figuring out how fictional this all is. But hey! Never mind them (who cares about them anyway they’re not real, right), this is totally all about you guys in the audience! She’s trying to make everyone ignore the fact that her story has gone completely off the rails and is no longer remotely about what it’s supposed to be about by enticing them with the idea that it’s now the audience’s story. You’re the ones in danger now! You’re the ones who get to fight and defeat Junko! Isn’t that just so fun, you guys???
Which, A, doesn’t even make any sense in the first place and, B, is horrendously bad storytelling to suddenly abandon the characters this story was supposed to be about like they’re irrelevant. But it’s going to work on this audience, because apparently they never really gave a fuck about any of this story’s characters in the first place, even though that’s the exact opposite of how an audience should act!
Maki:  “Is that why… you want the world to fall into despair?”
Maki Roll, don’t fall for it! That’s not what she’s trying to do and she doesn’t care about any of that! Maki has always been the most subsceptible to manipulation, and it seems like that one Flashback Light that brainwashed them into thinking that “despair” is always bad and that they are symbols of “hope” who must always defeat despair is still affecting her in ways she doesn’t realise are manipulation.
Himiko:  “Th-That’s… messed up!”
Himiko also briefly comments on this here like she might be buying this. Shuichi does not. He’s just staying quiet and watching.
“Nekomaru”:  “The outside world wants to see horrible setups and payoffs!”
That should be the case, because those are the kind of things that make a good story. But suddenly yelling about despair taking over the world in a way that makes no sense and is unconnected to any of the setup we’ve had this whole time? Not a payoff for anything. Should not be something the audience wants. They should want actual payoff for the characters they’ve been watching all this time.
“Nagito”:  “What could be more horrible than a fictional despair eroding the real world?”
“Junko”:  “No one could’ve imagined an end this hopeless.”
Yes, look, you guys, this is totally a super awesome plotline she’s come up with and it’s one that lets all of you be the heroes! please keep watching don’t change the channel just because things have gone off-script help
Keebo:  “…No. I won’t give in to despair!”
Tsumugi:  “Huuuh?”
Tsumugi has a gleeful “oh, I’m so surprised!” face here. She is making it quite obvious that Keebo’s reaction is exactly what she was going for. Keebo, no.
Keebo:  “If that’s the voice of the outside world, then the outside world actually wants hope!”
At this point, now that Tsumugi’s veered things around to totally be about the audience’s despair because who even cares about these people who aren’t real, is Keebo even talking about “hope” for Shuichi and the others? Or is this just “hope” for the audience to protect them from the evil despair that’s totally going to be inflicted on them? Almost certainly the latter.
K1-B0 – Ultimate Hope Robot
This is so clearly trying to rip off the ending of DR1. Which the audience is going to lap up because they’re raging genwunners. But this doesn’t work anything like that, because that hope was used to inspire the rest of the characters that the story was actually about. This is very emphatically not going to be that.
“Junko”:  “What is this?”
Keebo:  “This is the power of hope!”
It’s really not. It’s one guy who doesn’t have a clue what’s really going on yelling a bunch of meaningless words.
“Makoto”:  “The final battle between hope and despair!”
It was never a fucking battle! But no, of course it was, that’s definitely always been what those two words are about.
“Nagito”:  “The class trial is in disarray because Monokuma broke a rule…”
Himiko:  “You’re the one who broke the rule…”
Hah, I like that someone calls her out on that. Tsumugi’s still running away from all responsibility, because of course she is.
(“Smiling, putting on a mask, never saying what you really think. That kind of cowardice is just like Monokuma!” Kaito was really talking about the mastermind hiding behind Monokuma rather than Monokuma himself when he said that – and now she’s putting on even more literal masks than ever before.)
“Sayaka”:  “How about we start over and have a special vote?”
Keebo:  “…A special vote? But you’re the one who broke the rules in the first place—”
Keebo is quite right to point out that Tsumugi does not have the right to do any kind of life-or-death vote now that she’s broken the rules and messed everything up. Tsumugi, of course, completely brushes off his protest and does it anyway… and the audience lets her.
Trial 5’s whole premise of “Monokuma can’t do what he likes once he’s provably broken the rules” only works because the audience was supposed to agree that it’s unfair and cry foul, but… it turns out the audience is actually a bunch of mindless idiots who are totally okay with a meaningless vote and meaningless deaths to get them their hope fix. So… Kaito’s attempted best-case outcome in trial 5, which he was going for in the hope of saving his friends’ lives and ending the killing game, would actually have saved no-one and ended nothing anyway??? And what Kaito did achieve – letting Shuichi know that Monokuma can’t get things wrong because of the audience, which is why Shuichi went into this trial to prove Kaede spotless in another attempt to end the killing game – is also meaningless? Kaito faked his death and lied to his friends for a whole trial for nothing?
Out-universe writers, no. Why would you ever think this is okay? How can you just completely undermine the best case of the game like this?
(They’re also clearly not trying to go for a deliberate gut-punch of making Kaito’s efforts pointless, because the narrative isn’t acknowledging this at all. Apparently the in-universe writers are not the only ones who have no idea what they’re doing here.)
“Kazuichi”:  “Let’s just do one last vote!”
Monokuma:  “Cuz that’s what Danganronpa’s all about!”
The fact that DR1 and DR2’s stories happened to work fairly well with a final vote does not mean that it should be taken as a necessary part of a Danganronpa storyline to the point of shoehorning one in even when it doesn’t work.
The final vote in DR2 worked because that wasn’t decided on by Junko and was just a result of the way the world had been programmed. And the final vote in DR1 may have been also forced through by Junko when she didn’t really have the right to do so any more – but she was never entertaining her audience, she was forcing them to watch in order to make a point. Her vote continued that theme, because it was essentially Junko making Makoto stake his life on the belief that his friends would agree with his philosophy of hope (in her attempt to prove that they wouldn’t). Only Makoto’s life was on the line in it, and it was for a reason that was relevant to what had been happening and what he’d been advocating, so it didn’t feel especially unfair, at least not more so than you’d expect Junko to be given she wanted lives to be at stake for everything.
The vote we’re about to be forced into here is almost nothing like that. Oh boy.
Tsumugi:  “Between Keebo and I… Which of us should get punished?”
If that was all, that’d be fairly analogous to the DR1 final vote, and fairly acceptable. Keebo and Tsumugi are (supposedly) having a clash of philosophies, so this would just be them staking their lives on that. If it was only their lives on the line.
Himiko:  “To end in hope…?”
Maki:  “To end in despair…?”
Shuichi:  “We decide…?”
Yeah, why should these three get to decide? I thought this story was suddenly all about the audience now, not them! They’re not even real people, right? Why should they get to determine which out of hope or despair the audience wants to see?
But the vote they’re about to have doesn’t have anything to do with this whole deal of “bringing despair to the outside world” or about which one the audience prefers. Because Tsumugi doesn’t have a goddamn clue what she’s doing with any of this nonsense and might as well have not even done that whole bit in the first place. I hope this is out-universely deliberate at least, but at this point my faith in the out-universe writers is slipping.
Tsumugi explains that the “Despair wins” choice will result in everyone except Keebo continuing to live in the school, technically continuing the killing game but presumably never actually killing each other any more now that they know all the motives will be lies.
Keebo:  “No! That’s no way to live! Imprisoned in this school, living lives of despair—”
How exactly would that be a life of “despair”, Keebo? They’d be stuck there, sure, but at least the three of them would be alive, and they’re friends (minus Tsumugi, who would hopefully fuck off and leave them alone), so they should be able to find some semblance of happiness in it. You’re only saying it’d be “despair” because Tsumugi has arbitrarily slapped that label on it and therefore it must be nothing but bad, because “hope” is always good and “despair” is always evil, right?
“Toko”:  “E-Even if you went outside, there’d be n-no point.”
“Byakuya”:  “As I said, all your memories are nothing but fiction.”
“Imposter Byakuya”:  “Your hometowns, your families, your friends… they never existed in the first place.”
Wow, Tsumugi, you sure are making the option where they get to escape look more despairing than the one where they stay inside here and never have to face any of that stuff.
…Which actually is kind of analogous to the first game in that they’d be going out into a hostile world where they’re going to struggle to find their feet, and they’ll have to hope that they’ll be okay in that world despite everything. If the narrative was going to present it that way and have Keebo encourage them to still try and live in that world even if it’s scary because it’s better than being boringly trapped in here forever, this’d be acceptably similar to DR1. But nope, that’s not remotely what we’re going to be doing here.
Himiko:  “Th-Then at least put us back how we were!”
No, Himiko! Admittedly we didn’t see Himiko’s audition so she didn’t see what she “used to be” like, but the auditions they did see should make it very clear to all of them that the people they “used to be” weren’t them. None of you want to go back to being those people, guys; you should be able to see that! The people that you are now would stop existing if you did that! For all intents and purposes, you’d die!
Tsumugi explains that that’s impossible because Flashback Lights don’t actually retrieve lost memories and can only overwrite existing memories with fake ones. But it being impossible should not be the point anyway. None of them should even want this in the first place.
Shuichi:  “So… we can’t go back to the way we were?”
Shuichi, you saw the person who used to live in your body! You can’t possibly want to be him! You’d forget everything about Kaito and Kaede and become someone who wants to get executed in a killing game!
Apparently Tsumugi’s insistence that they’re all entirely “fake” has got to them so much that, despite all the evidence, they’re just clinging to the idea that “real” has got to be better, and nooooooo, guys, snap out of it!
Buuut it’s the “hope wins” outcome of the vote that’s the really stupid part. Tsumugi is punished and they get to escape, except…
“Taka”:  “However, you must follow the rules! The game will continue until the final two!”
Tsumugi:  “So only two of you can graduate.”
And why, pray tell, the absolute fuck, is this remotely necessary? The only reason that two-person rule exists should be as a minimum, because it’s not possible to hold a class trial with only two people left. If it’s also a strict maximum, then that means that this game is designed to kill fourteen people no matter what, even if there aren’t enough in-game murders for that. The point of this killing game is supposed to be that the participants brought all the deaths upon themselves (even though that’s not really a fair assessment at all when they were manipulated into it). Executing more people anyway even when it’s not prompted by someone becoming blackened in the first place is arbitrarily cruel and not in the spirit of the game at all. This rule should have completely ceased to apply any more, now that we’re in “endgame” mode where clearly nobody is going to commit any more murders. Killing two of them at this point just to adhere to this pointless rule is meaningless as fuck.
Plus, what right does Tsumugi even have any more to insist that they adhere to the rules when she broke them first? Oh, right, because the audience are mindless morons who don’t actually care if she breaks them despite the entire point of trial 5. (Geez, even Kokichi expected better from the audience than this.)
So, the bottom line is that this “hope wins” ending is… two of them get to escape into an outside world that doesn’t even see them as real people, after watching two more of their friends get completely pointlessly and arbitrarily killed. Such hope! Such meaning! Such narrative!
(Okay, they won’t get killed, as we’ll learn later on, but still. It is no less arbitrary.)
Shuichi:  “… We got this far… and you’re telling us to sacrifice more of our friends?”
Shuichi is crying and I don’t blame him. Why? Why should he have to lose even more of his friends for no reason? This isn’t fair! At least Kaede and Kaito’s sacrifices happened because they tried to make a difference, but this would be nothing like that!
“Gundham”:  “However… even if you do escape to the outside world, you will find it most unwelcoming.”
Keebo:  “…No! As long as we never give up, there will always be hope!”
Keebo. Dude. If you were trying to reassure everyone to stay hopeful about things that actually mattered, namely the idea that the outside world wouldn’t welcome them, or the thought of losing more friends, then maybe this would kinda sorta work and be a bit like Makoto was in DR1. But you’re just spouting meaningless platitudes! Stop it!
Keebo:  “If it will bring hope to everyone and the outside world, I will gladly sacrifice myself.”
You dying for completely arbitrary reasons is not going to make your friends hope for anything, Keebo! And you especially shouldn’t give a fuck what the outside world that’s gleefully watched your friends die wants from you!
I don’t hold it against Keebo, because he is genuinely well-meaning and trying to do a good thing here, but he is so, so deluded and misled.
“Makoto”:  “In order for hope to win, there needs to be one more sacrifice.”
That sentence doesn’t make any sense! That’s not hope! In the real Makoto’s story, hope winning didn’t sacrifice anyone except the mastermind! Makoto himself would have called total bullshit on the idea that pointlessly sacrificing his friends would be for the sake of any kind of hope!
“Sonia”:  “Do you understand now? Even if you choose hope, you will still suffer.”
Okay, so, look, I’m not saying that hope doesn’t involve suffering. Remember when I talked about my first-time experience of Kaito’s trial and how the rekindled hope that he might be alive was utterly terrifying? Yeah, hope is scary. But real hope is scary because it’s uncertain, because of the constant possibility that you might not get what you’re hoping for and fall back into despair. Being forced to feel completely arbitrary separate pain that has nothing to do with what you’re hoping for (in this context, they’d be hoping they can fit in in an outside world that doesn’t see them as real people) is not part of the reason that hope itself is difficult and scary and is completely beside the fucking point.
Tsumugi using Sonia here is the beginning of a sequence of her cosplaying almost all of the female characters (plus Chihiro) and having them be all “won’t you stay here with us~? *blush*”. Which is obviously deliberate pandering.
But, like… who is this pandering to? Isn’t she supposed to be persuading Maki, Himiko and Shuichi right now? There’s no evidence that Maki and Himiko are into girls, and while Shuichi apparently is, why should he care about these people that are, to his fake memories, historical figures and nothing more? Why would he be that shallow just because they’re girls? And if this is for the audience, first of all, why, they can’t influence this outside of Keebo’s one vote, and second of all… does she not fucking realise that only about half of her audience is even going to be into girls, and only a proportion of those people should be shallow enough to be swayed by this? Female characters are more than just objects of fanservice and romantic fantasy! There are plenty of people who enjoy this franchise who aren’t here for that, you know! Tsumugi is a girl, she should have more respect for her own goddamn gender than this!
Really, if Tsumugi was properly trying to persuade Shuichi, Maki and Himiko, then the best (cruellest) move would be for her to suddenly start cosplaying Kaede, Tenko and Kaito and being all like “hey, if you stayed here I could be them for you!” (the cospox thing was dumb and there should be no reason she couldn’t do that). Which would of course make all three of them do an immediate huge revolted NOPE, a lot like the time Maki thought Exisal Kaito was Kokichi pretending to be him except worse – but it’d be an impactful moment, at least. Honestly, Tsumugi cosplaying the dead V3 characters here would make this whole part of the trial far more viscerally uncomfortable, like it’s clearly trying to be, than just seeing the DR1 and 2 characters be the face of the villain when they’re not a part of this actual story.
(Man, imagine her doing the part last time where she reminded Shuichi of Kaede and Kaito’s inspiring lines by actually cosplaying them and reciting those lines in their voices, that would be awful, I would hate it and love it at the same time. It’d hammer home the supposed idea that they were always just lies even more.)
Keebo:  “Despair won’t end this killing game! Only hope will!”
Keebo says this just before we get dragged into a Mass Panic Debate in which Keebo’s only available bullet is “Hope”. When the only weapon you have is hope, every problem’s got to be able to be solved with it, right? No, Keebo.
This Mass Panic Debate is the worst and the reason I equipped Librarian’s Glare at the beginning, because then all the loud voices get silenced automatically and all I have to focus on is firing. If you don’t hit every single statement’s worth of “despair” in one round, you have to do it all over again, and a bunch of them have loud voices getting in the way. It’s far, far more mechanically difficult than any other debate in the game, which is not at all deserved on a narrative level when what’s happening right now is such a ridiculous mess.
Story time: when I got to this Mass Panic Debate on my first time through, since I was watching not playing and therefore had a little break to let my thoughts flow without having to pay as much attention to what was happening… I was really upset. I had loved almost everything about this game up to this point, and I really wanted it to have a good ending worthy of the rest of it. But this was currently presenting itself as that ending, and this was just bad.
This is supposedly analogous to the part in DR1 where Makoto fired bullets of hope at all of his friends, and I liked that part. It was refreshing and inspiring after a whole game supposedly all about despair to realise that it was actually about hope as well. But here, first-time-me just felt vaguely insulted at the idea that I was supposed to like this as much as I did that. This is just a cheap imitation of that which completely misses the actual point.
The protagonist is supposed to be meaningfully inspiring his friends to not give up and to face the hostile outside world with the hope that things will work out okay. But this “hope” choice they’re being given here is arbitrarily cruel, and Keebo’s words are not even addressing his friends, let alone any of the actual problems that his friends are despairing over. He’s just shooting the “hope” at Tsumugi’s “despair” like this is some kind of good-versus-evil battle. This is exactly the kind of one-dimensional, meaningless hope the characters were filled with when they saw the Flashback Light in chapter 5 – empty platitudes that don’t even remotely address the actual reason for their despair and therefore don’t fix anything at all. And that reason for their despair right now isn’t just the thought of the outside world but also simply the notion that they’re not real, which was pretty compelling when it came up and first-time-me wanted them to get back to that and address that more and hated the fact that it’d apparently been completely forgotten like it didn’t matter.
Of course, I don’t hate this part nearly as much now, because this isn’t the real endpoint of this trial, and with that in mind, Keebo missing the point like this is very out-universely deliberate. This is showing the “battle between hope and despair” that the outside world apparently craves that is the reason they’ve been watching these killing games for fifty-three seasons. Shuichi is going to figure this out quite soon, and then things will get back on track with the characters we’ve actually grown to care about properly addressing the question of how real they are.
But I’m still not super happy with this. Keebo is so obviously failing at presenting any kind of actual hope or compelling story here that it’s a stretch to believe that a sensible in-universe audience would want this either. Shouldn’t they care about the characters they’ve been watching this whole time and be frustrated, like I was, when the story abruptly veers away from being about them into this empty nonsense? Shouldn’t they be calling bullshit on the arbitrary unfair sacrifices for the vote, especially after Tsumugi broke the rules and had no more right to even punish anyone at all? (That was literally supposed to be the point of trial 5, dammit! Kaito deserves better than this!) Heck, shouldn’t the characters be calling bullshit on the vote rather than accepting it? (I can let them off a bit more though, since they’re still mostly in despair and not quite thinking straight.)
This would work a lot better if it was still trying to be mostly about the characters, and Keebo was actually trying to inspire them with hope. Instead of shooting at Tsumugi’s despair, he should, like Makoto did, be shooting the hope at his friends and trying to reassure them that surely they’ll find a place in the outside world that’ll accept them, that surely whichever two of them survive will be able to overcome these last deaths as well and find happiness somehow. That would be a kind of hope that would be reasonably believable as making a satisfying if bittersweet ending. That way, it’d be a lot easier to believe that the audience wants this, and to therefore realise that this is why the killing game has gone on for so long and will still continue if they let this ending happen here.
The fact that this isn’t what happens when it easily could have been makes me wonder how much of this part’s one-dimensionality was deliberate, and how much is the out-universe writers not actually realising that the situation they’re presenting here isn’t “hope” in any meaningful or compelling way at all. My faith in them on this particular front is not very strong, I must admit.
“Keebo! Keebo!”
“Keebo’s on fire!”
“gooooo Keebo!”
The audience has been there in the background throughout all of this – probably as what Keebo’s hearing in his inner voice – but up until now they’ve just been saying “Hope” or “Despair”. As this debate finishes, they finally start saying something of more substance, most of them cheering Keebo on like so. It sure sounds like they care about him as a character, which is what you’d expect if they’d been experiencing this game through him as the protagonist. But they don’t; we’ll see that very clearly later. They only care about him representing their own voices and nothing else.
“i wanna see the color of shuichi’s blood <3”
Wow, fuck, geez, okay. That “fan” of Shuichi’s from before has gone from “somewhat realistic if rather creepy considering that he’s real” to “absolute sicko”. What the hell.
“Now this is Danganronpa.”
Apparently we really are supposed to believe that this kind of meaninglessness is what people have come to like from this show over the years. It so incredibly shouldn’t be, though. What about all the actual class trials before the endgame? The characters struggling with the pain of watching their friends die or realising that their friend killed someone? Isn’t that more compelling than just yelling about hope being better than despair? Apparently not to these idiots.
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overdrivels · 6 years ago
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Self destruction and self sabotage seems to be Hanzo Shimada’s very own modus operandi. It’s not that he was not trustworthy—no, he is a man who could be given orders to and expected to complete them with professionalism and such efficiency it is hard to argue his place on the team regardless of how certain members felt about the arrangement—but his presence left many uneasy.
For all the orders and missions he completes, he still had a lot of learn about teamwork or at least entrusting his back to someone else. Genji chalks it up to being on the run while solo for ten years. Others are quick to blame his personality. One or two even think that it may just be a ploy of sorts (but those thoughts are never really voiced). There were several close calls of Hanzo nearly breaking someone's nose for coming too close unannounced or not communicating his position enough (leading to someone nearly shooting him) only strengthens people's unvoiced doubts. 
Regardless, it was decided by the powers that be (Winston) that the benefits outweigh the risks and still assigned Hanzo to group missions. 
Like now. 
Hanzo nearly chokes on his breath when he spots the blur from the corner of his eye. Too fast. Dangerous. He pulls hard on his bow string, spins sharply— 
The muscles on his shoulders spasm with the abruptness in which he forces himself to stop. His heart hammers in his throat and head, frantic with a visceral fear that he had not felt in a long time. It almost makes him want to vomit. He barely avoids letting loose an arrow straight into your helmet. 
Especially when you amble toward him, nonchalant in that pangolin hardlight suit of yours, hands together like the meek animal you represent, unaware of the danger you just were in, unaware you were just a hair away from death by his hands and if he had realized who you were a moment too late, you wouldn't even be standing or breathing or kneeling next to him or able to use your voice to ask:
"Are you all right, Hanzo?"
He slaps away your hand, barely aware of the fiery sting of his forearm. 
"Get away," he snarls between panicked gasps. 
Emotions make an assassin inefficient. An inefficient assassin is a liability. Liabilities need to be disposed. 
He barely notices the appraising look on your face, too focused on steering himself away from his weaknesses as a professional. 
"Excuse me."
So he could be forgiven for nearly smashing his elbow into your face when you grab him by the waist and hoist him over your shoulder. Hands scrambling, he seeks leverage to throw you from his position—he's done it before on bigger and stronger opponents—but the armor is smooth, the momentum too little, your grip a little too skillful, and the intent and motion too gentle. 
You begin to run and not a moment later, the sound of gunfire follows. Snapping out of his head for a moment, he shouts, “What are you doing?”
“Saving you. Watch your head.”
He ducks just in time to avoid getting hit in the head by a metal bar twisted out from it's structure. 
He could easily break your arms and choke you in at least thirty different ways, but you manhandle him like you don't care. 
“I could kill you," he hisses as menacingly as he can. It's not just to remind you but to remind himself, will his body into action. He does not need to be rescued or carried. This sort of thing is for damsels in distress, injured persons, or the dead, and he is certainly none of the above. 
“Yeah, I know. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t, but just in case, I already have my will and power of attorney set up."
For once, Hanzo is completely dumbstruck, staring down at your profile. The blatant disregard for his threats seem to be almost on-par with some of the other agents who act like he isn't as dangerous as he truly is. But he never got a handle on you or your thoughts on having a brother killer on the team. Your reaction would be funny if you weren't both running for your lives, pursuers audibly behind you. 
Using what little leverage he has, Hanzo disposes of his useless thoughts, swings his bow over your head and focuses on what he can do best: killing. 
With you to absorb any attacks with your Pangolin suit, he only has to worry about accurate headshots from the enemies, and at this distance, they weren't going to accomplish that any time soon. Your scales were raised, able to deflect the full brunt of any stray bullets that came for his face. 
The suit is just an over glorified suit of sectored hardlight armor, scales that form out of everywhere and can fire like a porcupine. In truth, it's a mess. Something that would be worthy of being called "Junker quality". 
Regardless, it did its job long enough for you to carry him to relative safety and for him to take his shots, bringing the numbers down enough for Soldier: 76 and Mercy to take the remainder down from behind. A beautiful, but unexpected, pincer. 
Even you give a satisfied hum, hands together and head bowed much like one of those ass-kissers back at Shimada Castle.
And your words, "We did pretty nicely," cements that thought even further, and he snarls, yanking his head away from the view of the other two approaching to make his way back to the ship. With or without you. 
He expects this to be the last time he'll ever have to get manhandled or carried to 'safety'. 
So needless to say, Hanzo gets surprised again when you jump in front of him during another, more harrowing mission, the sound of pulse bullets smashing into your armor, but his recovery is quicker as his mind snaps the situation into clarity. 
He fires off three arrows right at you. By some trick, they twist around your helmet. Each make their mark, to his glee, and the rocking explosion resulting from the damaged reactor would’ve knocked him to the ground if you did not position yourself in front of him. 
Through the stream of smoke and dust, he can see the bodies of his fallen enemies, thrown to the ground like ragdolls. 
Mission accomplished. The reactor is destroyed. 
But his relief is short lived when you turn again. The entire backside of your armor has been burnt off, revealing the crackling technology beneath it. And his victory curdles into rage. 
"Why did you do that!?"
It allowed him to take that shot, yes, but he could have dodged and found another opportunity that was not fraught with risks and potential bullet holes through anyone. 
No, he's not grateful even if your timely appearance did end the mission quickly. 
You merely shrug at him, press some buttons to regenerate the bullet bitten scales of your suit. 
He refuses to thank you for it. Or say anything else for the matter. 
The next time you cover him—serving as his decoy more like, you're shot in the head. The force of it takes off your helmet. 
Parts of it shatters, crystalline shards of hard light fall around you, shimmering in light. If the situation were not so sure, he might have thought it beautiful. 
But as it is, the illusion is broken. You tuck and roll out of harm's way just as a rain of shrapnel comes down on you. Hanzo's arrows manage to fell them, allowing you to make your way to him without losing your head. 
A very small head.
The contrast between your bare face and the rest of you is almost humorous. You're so much smaller than your armor would imply. That's a given, of course. Reinhardt and Brigitte are much smaller outside of their suits, but both hold themselves proudly, their personalities matching and exceeding the size of the suits they both wear. 
But you're...you. Neither so strong in will or personality that it makes up for the gap between your current size and the size that the armor portrays. 
Hanzo has seen you meander through the halls, posture weak and hands together. If he didn't know any better, he'd think you some ghost from Overwatch past, tossed and lost in the stream of time. 
But you're here, beside him, watching out with a deceptively lazy gaze. He can't tell what's in your head or why you even care enough to stick by him. Is it because he's a liability? Or because he's a killer and you're keeping tabs on him? Or could it be that you are just waiting to stab him in the back? 
Hanzo dares another glance at you, still watching out over the distance, unaware or uncaring of his scrutiny. Empty. Your head must be empty. 
"They're coming. Let's go," you say suddenly. Snapping his attention back to the horizon, he sees that their targets have indeed regrouped and are making their way towards you both. He huffs, annoyed he didn't notice first and makes his way down with you hovering at his back. 
He's reluctant to say he's gotten used to you covering him. Hanzo barely reacts during another mission when an enemy appears at his back just as he lines up his perfect shot. He feels the ground vibrate, guns firing but never feels the impact, and the enemy hit the ground with a loud shout. Inelegant, but effective. He's not surprised when he turns around to see you behind him, your back to his like you trust him. 
It is a dangerous thing: trusting someone with your back. One could never know if that trust would ever be misplaced. Or if that trust will make him weak. A lonely night with his inner musings and a bottle helps him make up his mind. 
Nipping it in the bud, so to speak, he asks Winston to stop putting the two of you together on missions. To which he gets a very deadpan look that makes him just slightly regret asking. 
"Agent Hanzo, if there is an issue, I'd like it to be taken care of between the both of you or have it brought up now so we can handle it. With as few agents as there are, we cannot afford to be infighting or choosey about partners."
"...I understand," he says through gritted teeth. Hanzo leaves with nothing done except making it clear to Winston he has an issue with you that he isn't even brave enough to confront you about himself. 
It doesn't take him long to find you alone in the kitchen, slowly eating what seems to be a late lunch, the wrapper of some meal wrinkled on the table. 
"Cease what you're doing."
You look up at him incredulously, a fry hovering precariously off your fork halfway to your mouth. "Eating?"
"No." He wonders if you're being obtuse on purpose or if this is just how you are. "No. I ask you stop covering me on the field. It interferes with my work."
Slowly, the fork comes further down onto your plate as you squints harder and harder at him, measuring his request. A prickle straightens his spine and he refuses to take back his words or feel remotely bad for telling you to stop doing your job. 
You rub your face for a moment, the cheeriness and glow in your eyes wiped away, replaced by a look that Hanzo knows all too well: one that screams, ‘I need a drink’. 
"You know I can't stop protecting you."
Unconsciously, his upper lip curls. "I never asked for your protection."
"Genji did."
Time stops. 
It could have been a fraction of a second, a million years, he doesn't know. The words bounce in his brain, growing louder with each echo, the defeated tone twisting itself into mockery.
He’s a Shimada, not a coward. But the moment those two words left your mouth, he could not stop himself. In an instant, he has you by the collar, pressed against the wall. The clothes you wear becomes your noose as he curls his hands into them as if that'll be enough to silent you. 
“What. Did you just say.”
Even now, you look upon him dispassionately. Even when you struggle to give a voice to your explanation, face red—nearly purple, your demeanor is not shaken. “Gen..ji, asked-d me. 'Pro...tect Hanz..o-o. No matt-matter what he’s done. He’s...still my br..other. I forgave...h—'” 
You choke on your words when Hanzo slams you against the wall again. Twice, thrice, four times until he’s sure you’re not going to speak anymore of the accursed words he loathed to hear from anyone. 
It’s a lie.
A lie.
An insult.
Genji is making fun of him again. 
Touting that he’s better. 
He was always more recognized. 
Always had father’s attention. 
Always fawned over by their peers. 
Always watched by their elders. 
And now he wants to flaunt it again. 
That he’s survived death and he’s stronger and deems Hanzo so worthless that he requires protection. 
Protection from what. 
Hanzo was the one who received all the awards, the honors, the higher marks, killed the most, gotten the most targets, the envy of those who would consider themselves his peers, the right to inherit his father's position, the clan.
And yet— 
Yet…
With an animalistic yell, he slams you against the wall once more, a resounding crack covered up by his voice before he just drops you and flees the room, desperate to drown the renewed flames of his fury in alcohol. 
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cutepresea · 5 years ago
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4-11 A Light That Pierces the Clouds: Erosion
Sorry again for the spam.
If you want to blacklist these, you can use either the tag #a light that pierces the clouds for just this event, or #xdu event scripts or #xdu scripts
Reminder that these are copied straight from XD Unlimited itself, so any grammatical weirdness, mistranslations, and/or mischaracterizations are not my doing.
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Hibiki Tachibana: (My chest feels suffocated... It burns...)
Hibki Tachibana: (It hurts! Somebody help me...)
Hibiki Tachibana: (No... No one will come. No matter how close they get, they'll always leave in the end.)
Miku Kohinata: "Hibiki. Come on, Hibiki..."
Hibiki Tachibana: "...Huh?"
Miku Kohinata: "It's impressive that you're eating breakfast while sleeping, but keep it up and you'll be late for class."
Hibiki Tachibana: "Class? At Lydian? Why are you wearing that uniform?"
Miku Kohinata: "Are you still half asleep? We got to school together. Of course I'm wearing my uniform."
Miku Kohinata: "Here's your bag. I put in all your textbooks. We can run to class after you finish eating."
Miku Kohinata: "Are you done eating? Then let's go."
Hibiki Tachibana: "Huh?! Just... another dream?"
Hibki Tachibana: (She said she was here from a parallel world. Why have I been having  these dreams since meeting her?) [1]
Hibiki Tachibana: "...What does it matter? I'm always along, anyway."
Hibiki Tachibana: "Again... What is this? A stone? It's... metal?"
Hibiki Tachibana: "......"
Hibiki Tachibana: (It feels like there's been gradually more of these things in proportion to the pain in my chest.)
Hibiki Tachibana: "......"
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Tsubasa Kazanari: "I can't believe there're so many Noise. I wonder if those three on the other side are all right."
Kirika Akatsuki: "We should be worried about ourselves first... Things are getting pretty rough."
Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Even so, we have to do this. Let's keep it up, Kiri-chan."
Kirika Akatsuki: "Of course. But if we could use X-Drive, we could clear out these Noise easily."
Tsubasa Kazanari: "No point in asking for what you can't have. We'll just have to do our best!"
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Sakuya Fujitaka: "We've got more Noise signals in the vicinity!"
Aoi Tomosato: "Wielder vital signs are declining! If they carry on fighting any longer..."
Genjuro Kazanari: "Grr, fine then! We'll seal off the area and order the wielders to retreat."
Tsubasa Kazanari: "I refuse to retreat!"
Genjuro Kazanari: "Tsubasa?!"
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Tsubasa Kazanari: "There's too many Noise. If we retreat now, who knows how much damage they'll do?"
Tsubasa Kazanari: "With Tachibana as she is and Maria's group in the parallel world, our job is hold this line to the death!"
Kirika Akatsuki: "Yeah... Maria's doing everything she can."
Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "We were entrusted with this world, so we'll see this through to the end!"
Genjuro Kazanari: "...Fine. But don't do anything stupid! We're sending out a rescue squad right now!"
Tsubasa Kazanari: "Well said, you two. Now... Let's do this!"
Kirika Akatsuki: "Haah... Haah... G-Got it..."
Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "...I can still fight!"
Tsubasa Kazanari: "That's right... Wring out whatever power's left in you!"
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Kirika Akatsuki: "Haah... Haah... Haah... How's that?"
Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "Did we defeat them all?"
Genjuro Kazanari: "All Noise signals in the vicinity have vanished."
Genjuro Kazanari: "That was a hard fought battle out there. Well done!"
Tsubasa Kazanari: "Understood. Returning to base immediately."
Genjuro Kazanari: "No, we've sent a helicopter to get you. Stand by."
Tsubasa Kazanari: "Roger that."
Kirika Akatsuki: "Standby? I can barely walk, let alone stand."
Shirabe Tsukuyomi: "I want to lay down here and sleep..."
Tsubasa Kazanari: (That huge swarm was like something from Solomon's Cane.)
Tsubasa Kazanari: "What's going on?"
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Genjuro Kazanari: "A big welcome back to the three of you."
Elfnein: "I'm glad you're all safe."
Maria: "Never mind us. How are things going here?"
Chris Yukine: "Man... I could cut the tension here with a butter knife."
Miku Kohinata: "Tsubasa-san and the others aren't here..."
Genjuro Kazanari: "They were fighting Noise for a few days straight, which exhausted them. They're recuperating now."
Miku Kohinata: "Oh, no... Are they all right?!"
Genjuro Kazanari: "No need to worry. They aren't injured, just fatigued. They'll make a full recovery after a day of rest."
Miku Kohinata: "That's good to hear."
Chris Yukine: "Yikes. We came back at just the right time, then."
Maria: "Yeah, too close for my liking."
Miku Kohinata: "So, um... How's Hibiki doing?"
Elfnein: "She sometimes has fits and becomes very restless. When it gets really bad, we put her under sedatives."
Miku Kohinata: "Oh, no..."
Miku Kohinata: "I need to go check up on her!"
Maria: "There she goes... Let's leave those two alone for now."
Maria: "So, what's going on with the Gjallarhorn alert?"
Genjuro Kazanari: "It's still active. Actually, it seems to be getting worse."
Chris Yukine: "Getting worse? But we beat two of those Karma Noise! What's going on here?!"
Maria: "Considering the situation, it could be due to a threat even more deadly than the Karma Noise."
Chris Yukine: "Guh... Then it must be that big thing."
Genjuro Kazanari: "What big thing? What happened over there?"
Maria: "I'll explain. Have you heard of the complete relic, Goliath?"
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Miku Kohinata: "Hibiki? She's still sleeping."
Miku Kohinata: (She looks so thin and pale... Even more so than before I went to the other side.)
Miku Kohinata: (Her hand... A hand that's joined so many others together...)
Miku Kohinata: "I will save you. So please, just hang on a little longer..."
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Genjuro Kazanari: "The complete relic, Goliath. Something like that showed up?"
Chris Yukine: "You know about it?! Tell us in layman's terms!"
Genjuro Kazanari: "Sorry. This is the first I've heard of it."
Maria: "On the other side, they said that the U.S. entrusted them with it. Maybe their government is hiding it?"
Genjuro Kazanari: "It's not completely impossible, but I can't imagine they'd just reveal that information to us."
Chris Yukine: "Then it was all a waste of time..."
Elfnein: "Hold on. I think there is still a potential solution we can find from the information at our disposal."
Maria: "Elfnein?"
Elfnein: "It retreats when night falls, right? If so, how does Goliath differentiate between night and day?"
Chris Yukine: "What do you mean? It retreats when the sun goes down."
Elfnein: "Is it visually looking at the sun set?"
Maria: "You mean a change in the amount of light? I'm not sure if it has what we would call eyes."
Elfnein: "Yes, that is likely true. Which implies that its hours of hibernation and waking follow a fixed cycle."
Elfnein: "If it is determining night and day based on the amount of light, we might be able to trick it."
Maria: "That seems worth a shot."
Chris Yukine: "Sounds fun. So how do we prepare that kind of light?"
Genjuro Kazanari: "Ask Section 2 on the other side. They should be able to figure something out."
Maria: "Yeah. This just might work."
Chris Yukine: "All right! Then let's go back and mess up the big guy!"
Maria: "Wait. What about this side? We should at least wait until Tsubasa and the others fully heal."
Chris Yukine: "Oh, right..."
Genjuro Kazanari: "It'd be a big help if you wait here. Tsubasa and the others should wake up in a day or so."
Tsubasa Kazanari: "That won't be necessary..."
Maria: "Tsubasa?!"
Chris Yukine: "Are you sure you should be up?!"
Elfnein: "You must rest. Successive fights have caused your body fatigue and stress. You cannot recover this quickly."
Tsubasa Kazanari: "It's just fatigue. It's nothing compared to what Tachibana's going through."
Tsubasa Kazanari: "I will protect this world in her place."
Chris Yukine: "You may say that, but the others haven't woken up yet. As it stands--"
Tsubasa Kazanari: "No, they feel the same way, too. They're straining, but they're awake, and they're worried for Tachibana."
Tsubasa Kazanari: "If resolving the issues in the other world leads to Tachibana's recovery, then that's our top priority."
Maria: "Is she really looking that bad?"
Tsubasa: "Yes... I can't bear to look at her."
Elfnein: "Hibiki-san's fits are progressively becoming more frequent and intense."
Elfnein: "And her strength continues to weaken. If this continues, her life may be in danger."
Chris Yukine: "Are you serious?"
Maria: "I see now. We need to hurry back there."
Chris Yukine: "Yeah, you're right."
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Hibiki Tachibana: "Hmph!"
Hibiki Tachibana: "Raaaaaaagh!"
Hibiki Tachibana: "Haah... Haah... Haah..."
Hibiki Tachibana: "This rumbling... Something's coming!"
Hibiki Tachibana: "Guh..."
Hibiki Tachibana: "I don't know what the hell you are..."
Hibiki Tachibana: "But since you're here now... I'll tear you down, too!"
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Aoi Tomosato: "Oh no! We're detecting a signal thought to be Goliath!"
Genjuro Kazanari: "What's going on?!"
Aoi Tomosato: "Gungnir's signal is on-site! Hibiki-chan... She's out there fighting alone!"
Genjuro Kazanari: "What?! She's mad! Where's Tsubasa?!"
Sakuya  Fujitaka: "She can't move due to the after-effects of the Superb Song."
Genjuro Kazanari: "Gah... Do as much as you can to support Hibiki-kun! Hurry!"
Sakuya Fujitaka: "U-Understood!"
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Hibiki Tachibana: "Guh! It's strong!"
Hibiki Tachibana: (It's way too powerful to fight head-on. If I take a clean hit, that'll probably be it for me.)
Hibiki Tachibana: (If only I had more power... more strength.)
Hibiki Tachibana: "Guh! Wh-What's going on? I feel... hot."
Hibiki Tachibana: (It's like my entire body's boiling... But!)
Hibiki Tachibana: "Hyaaaaah!"
Hibiki Tachibana: "I feel power flowing through me!"
Hibiki Tachibana: "I can fight now! I can beat it by myself!"
Hibiki Tachibana: "Raaaaaaaagh! Guh... What?!"
Boy: "No! S-Somebody help me!"
Hibiki Tachibana: (He hasn't evacuated yet?! Why now?!)
Hibiki Tachibana: (Guh... I have to help him... No, I want to kill him...)
Hibiki Tachibana: "Huh? Wh-What was that?"
Hibiki Tachibana: (He's human, so I have to help him.) (Kill him! Slaughter the human!)
Hibiki Tachibana: "What... is this? Is there something inside me?"
Hibiki Tachibana: (It's like a vortex deep in my body... Spinning around and making me feel sick!)
Hibiki Tachibana: "Guh... Raaaaaaaagh!"
Hibiki Tachibana: "Get away! Run if you don't want to die!"
Boy: "A-Aaaaaaaah!"
Hibiki Tachibana: (No... I don't want to kill him... What's going on with me?)
Hibiki Tachibana: (Was it... what that Black Noise did to me?)
Hibiki Tachibana: "Oh, no! Crap!"
Hibiki Tachibana; "Ah... Gah!"
Hibiki Tachibana: (I can't move. I've taken too much damage...)
Hibiki Tachibana: "......"
Hibiki Tachibana: (Is this the end for me?)
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Hibiki Tachibana: "It's gone... Why?"
Notes:
[1] There's a double space between "having" and "these"
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mobius-prime · 5 years ago
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123. Knuckles the Echidna #24
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Dark Alliance (Part Three of Three): Primary Evil
Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Jim Valentino Colors: Barry Grossman
This issue's intro quote thing is from Spectre, rallying the citizenry of Echidnaopolis on the eve of a Dark Legion takeover of the city. His exact sentiment isn't important -it's basically a rephrasing of the whole "the only thing we have to fear is fear itself" concept. What I find interesting, rather, is the very vague description given of when this occurred. We're not given a time frame at all. We know that the Legion has made more than one attempt to take over the city in the past, but it's not at all clear whether this occurred, say, back during Spectre's own tenure as Guardian, or if it was just before the events of KtE#9 when the Dark Legion attacked Echidnaopolis in the modern day, or what. It's not at all clear, and for that reason I find it bizarre, especially since you'd think someone like Spectre showing his edgy face in modern, mildly technophobic Echidnaopolis might raise a few eyebrows.
Anyway, onto the issue itself. Archimedes is often forgotten and neglected as a character in a lot of these more action-packed later issues, now that he's not solely focused on training Knuckles anymore, but it turns out that after Knuckles and Julie-Su were captured by Xenin, he went straight to Locke and told him what happened. Spectre, the only other member of the Brotherhood not in Haven when it was taken over, arrives in the Chaos Chamber to demand Locke's help in retaking it.
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Despite Locke's reluctance, Spectre's sheer edginess what with the literal cloud of mist always following him everywhere wins out, and Archimedes poofs them to the basement level of Haven so they can have the element of surprise in attacking. Meanwhile, in the Legion's current hideout within the city, Knuckles continues to trash talk Dimitri, even as Dimitri tries to insist that he's merely restoring echidna society to the way it once was and the way it should be. Really, dude, you think you're gonna convince Knuckles with your villain schtick? He's defiant to literally everyone who tries to tell him what to do, whether they're strangers, best friends, or his own flesh and blood. You're not gonna have much luck there. We hop over to Remington, who's been taken back to Pravda's office so that Benedict can lay out his own plot.
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Ah, yes, this old trick. Remington retorts that Benedict doesn't even know yet if he'll be elected, to which Benedict responds that they've gone and installed fibre-optic systems in every echidna home allowing them to vote in mere days rather than the months it would usually take for an election to happen, and that they have control over the system to influence the results of the election to ensure his win. While the idea of in-home direct democracy does sound pretty sweet, how the hell did you go about installing this in every single echidna household so quickly considering it's been like, half a day since your rally? Remington, of course, is an upstanding individual (I actually do find him genuinely likable as a character) and tries to insist he won't go along with the plan regardless, to which Benedict decides to try to blackmail him by threatening to spill any secrets from his past that they find. While this is going on, we head back to the Legion's medical room, where Dimitri and his team of scientists are getting ready to put Knuckles under…
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He intends to study his physiology while he's unconscious to figure out why he seems so powerful, and perhaps then use this power to restore his own emerald-enhanced abilities lost when Mammoth Mogul sucked them out of him. Ah, Dimitri, trying to pretend he isn't a selfish bastard as always, and failing utterly. While this is going on, Xenin finds his entertainment in taunting General Stryker and Julie-Su, still hanging upside down in their pod-things, and Locke and Spectre make their way through the halls of Haven, taking out stray soldiers on their way to their main objective. Back in Pravda's office, Remington, despite Benedict's threats, continues to refuse to support his candidacy, and Benedict becomes furious, shoving the brainwashed Pravda at him and stomping out of the room. Remington gently lowers the unresponsive, blank-faced former High Councilor to the floor and calls for someone to get him medical attention, then races after Benedict, hoping to catch him before he can get away. He's already found himself a taxi, but luckily for Remington, an old acquaintance is waiting for his own fare nearby…
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Ah, Harry, good to see you again! Back in the medbay, Dimitri and his scientists are amazed to find that Knuckles, through entirely natural biological processes, seems to possess power equivalent to a Chaos Emerald. Dimitri is shocked, as after all he only managed to gain his own powers through the Chaos Syphon mishap centuries ago, and wonders if Knuckles was actually bioengineered to have this power - but before he can wonder much further, alarms start screeching within the room.
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Looks like you guys done messed up plugging Knuckles in. Apparently, the rate of radiation discharge coming from Knuckles is so strong he's dangerously close to rendering the room uninhabitable. The technician operating gives Dimitri a choice - either he issues the order for evacuation, or he kills Knuckles to eliminate the problem. Meanwhile in the taxi, Harry stops driving abruptly, and when Remington yells at him he says that the car they're following has headed into the headquarters of the Technology Now party, AKA the Dark Legion's territory. Remington orders him to drive around back so he can attempt to infiltrate, deciding not to call for backup. Within Haven, Moritori Rex and the Kommissar are discussing Haven's benefits as a base for the Legion, when the lights abruptly go out and they lose contact with their main facility. They go to investigate, with Moritori using his visor to see in infrared, but a sudden flash of light blinds him.
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I suppose Locke and Spectre are unaffected by the knockout gas because they're super powerful Guardians or something? Also keep in mind that again, Spectre was Tobor's son, and after the revelation a few issues ago he's essentially come to realize that the man he thought was his father all along was actually an imposter, and he never knew his real father. No wonder he's so determined to retake Haven at any cost. With Moritori not even being a real Guardian or receiving any of the proper training, it's amazing Spectre learned his duties properly and the line of the Brotherhood continued successfully at all.
As conditions deteriorate in the Legion's medbay, Dimitri, unwilling to give up on studying Knuckles yet, gives the order to retreat, and Xenin happily leaves Julie-Su and Stryker hanging where they are, not bothered with rescuing them. Benedict, running back into the facility, is alarmed by the chaos he's returned to, and as a sudden electromagnetic pulse sweeps through the facility…
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Okay, I take it back, my line from two issues ago. This is the most disturbing page in the comic so far. The guy just melts, dude. It's like Kenders looked at the scene from the first Terminator movie where the T-800's flesh burns off in the truck explosion and was like "Nah, this isn't freaky enough. Let's turn it up a notch!" This isn't to say I disapprove, really. I just wonder how many young nightmares this inspired. Remington and Harry run past the nonfunctional endoskeleton with bits of melted flesh around it, and find Julie-Su and Stryker, releasing them from captivity. All the Legionnaires around the facility have dropped to the floor in shock, as the energy pulse has fried their cybernetics. While Harry is left to call the police headquarters for backup in cleaning up the mess, Remington runs through the halls and finds the medbay, with Knuckles still inside.
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Dimitri, of course, has escaped in a private shuttle hidden within the facility, and gives us a final narration of the events after the chaos. He intends to rescue in the future any Legionnaires who survived the events within both bases, and with Benedict having won the city's election for High Councilor after all, Dimitri already has a replacement in mind given that Benedict has, well, fallen apart a little too literally. Apparently the power surge also took out Pravda's neural implants, and now he's a mindless vegetable, which is honestly quite a grim fate for him. No happy endings for Mr. Kidnapped From His Own Home in Front of His Wife, here. Dimitri, however, doesn't consider this event quite a loss, as now that he's aware of Knuckles' power potential, he's more determined than ever to gain this power for himself…
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jj-lives · 6 years ago
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Unperfect Roommates - excerpt Waterfall - bmblb (little bit WR)
“We're here!” Ruby yells dashing off into the trees, leaving her ever present trail of rose petals behind for everyone to follow.
Weiss sighs loudly before picking up her pace. She's not about to run through the forest but you can tell she doesn't like Ruby being too far away. Their relationship is new to both of them and they’re still trying to figure out each others needs. It's been a constant battle of Weiss being very clingy and Ruby excitedly forgetting about her girlfriend’s need for reassurance.
“She's just eager to get there.” Weiss looks back over her shoulder at your voice. She seems slightly embarrassed that you've noticed her exasperation towards Ruby. You can sympathize with her, not having many friends yourself, when you are in the mood for company and no one is around or busy with other things- it sucks to feel like you've been forgotten.
“I know, it’s just…” her feet pause on the path allowing you to catch up. “I mean, she knows her semblance can carry more than just her. If she’s in such a hurry to get there than why not bring me along?” In a rare moment of wanting to console Weiss you reach out and place a comforting hand on her back. Pulling her along so her feet start moving you hold her in a half embrace. Weiss takes a minute to relax, knowing her anger at Ruby would only lead to an argument none of you want. Ruby didn't charge ahead maliciously. She hadn't forgotten Weiss behind on purpose after all. “It’s just, I kind of wanted her beside me when we got there. She's said how beautiful it is and how it's her favourite spot on Patch. I just wanted her beside me when I first experience it.”  She growls slightly under her breath. “That makes me pathetic doesn't it?”
“No i-“
“Grab her hand next time.” Yang cuts you off.  Weiss flinches and you can’t blame her, Ruby’s elder sister has been so silent during your hike you actually forgot she was there for a moment.
“Excuse me?” Weiss questions.
“Next time she’s all hopping on the balls of her feet, grab her hand.” Yang shrugs as she comes up on Weiss’ other side.  “She’ll have no choice but to drag you with her.”
“I don’t think that’s the point.” You speak up In Weiss’ defense.
“Then what is the point?” Yang eyes you curiously.  “I thought the point was Weiss wanted to be by Ruby’s side when we got there.  That would accomplish that goal.”
“Ruby shouldn’t be running off leaving Weiss behind in the first place.  That’s the issue.”
“Look, my little sister is easily excitable, she doesn’t always think every painfully minute detail through. So-“
“You’re saying Weiss is a minute detail?” You accuse heatedly.
Yang groans. “That is not what I’m saying. I’m ju-“
“Sounds like it to me.”
Yang glares at you, and you glare right back.  She had no right stepping into your and Weiss’ conversation.  She shouldn’t even be on this trip with you in the first place, and you would appreciate it if she would continue to remain as silent as she previously had been. Weiss side eyes you and Yang before carefully stepping forward, obviously not comfortable being the barrier keeping you both apart.  Yang turns fully to face you and folds her arms across her chest.  
“If you would let me finish a damn sentence,” she pauses, waiting for your rebuttal. You stay silent this time. “I’m just saying Ruby doesn’t think the way you two do.  She acts and then thinks of the consequences later. She’s a pretty good strategist on the battlefield, but she’s shit when it comes to personal interactions.”  
“That’s no excuse.”  You argue.  You know Ruby can be awkward meeting new people, but this isn’t the same thing.  Weiss and Ruby are dating now and Ruby has to start making some concessions, she has to put some effort into this relationship.
“When she met you, when she met Weiss, she made a positive impression? You and Weiss were her friends right away?” Yang’s eyes are still heated but her voice has lost some of it’s bite.
A scoff is torn from your throat and you cant help your eyes rolling back in your head. “No, we were not.”  You remember the arguments Ruby and Weiss used to have about leadership and responsibilities, the way you’d held a soft spot for Ruby’s romanticized view of the world while you secretly thought she was foolishly naive.  You’d kept your distance from Weiss because of her prejudices of the Faunus and you’d kept Ruby at arms reach, no closer because her skewed view of the world, you thought, would bring your team down. You secretly thought Ruby was going to bring you down and you hate that Yang makes you remember that.  It’s not something you’ve ever told any of your teammates and it’s something that you’ve tried not to think about in years. It is simply untrue.  Ruby’s outlook was strength.  It was a view in which everyone should try to see the world in.  Seeing the world through Ruby’s eyes, though occurrences were few and far between, had awed Blake. More people should have the determination and trust and faith in the world that Ruby had.  
“Because my little sister cannot figure out how to best portray herself, be it excitement, sadness, anxiety, or any other strong emotion.  The only emotion she even has a hold over is her anger.” Yang chuckles. “Guess she got that gene instead of me. She’s awkward, and that isn’t a part of Ruby that is just going to disappear because Weiss and her are suddenly dating. It’s a part of her personality that has people making snap decisions about her, and has Ruby misinterpret others reactions to her.”
“It’s not the same thing.  Weiss isn’t a stranger, she knows Ruby and Ruby knows her.  This isn’t an awkward first introduction.”
“Isn’t it?”  
“What?”
“This is as new to Ruby as her first day of Beacon was.  Ruby’s never had a girlfriend before.” Yang throws her hands above her head and turns to make her way up the path once more, trying to catch up to Weiss.  “Heck, she’s never had a relationship of any kind before.  You’re right though,” she looked over her shoulder at you, her lavender eyes show concern. “This isn’t like meeting potential new friends, this is much more awkward for my baby sister, because she has more to lose.”
“But she should-” you start, jogging to take up a position beside Yang.
“She should stop being herself and be someone you and Weiss want her to be?” Yang questions and you can see a sharp, cutting edge to the way she’s looking at you. You’d seen anger, frustration, teasing, happiness, concern all etched within Yang’s eyes at one point or another, but this look is new.  It’s raw and powerful.  Yang blinks and suddenly the look is gone. “Ruby is just reverting back to what she normally does on her own.  I can’t count how many times she’s left me behind at that exact spot back there.” A gloved hand lifts to indicate the path behind you.  
“If you want to get through to the Rose-Xiao Long girls you have to make them see, before they will learn.” Yang chuckles. “Ruby won’t see it any other way without it being obviously pointed out to her.  So yes, next time,” she claps her hand on Weiss shoulder as they catch up to her finally. “Grab her hand and make her see you.”
Weiss stops on the path as a rumble reverberates through the ground beneath your feet.  When you stop to look back at her questiongly she’s sporting an almost defiant expression.  You open your mouth to ask her what’s wrong when Yang’s hand gently grasps your wrist and pulls you forward.  You let yourself be pulled for a few strides before dislodging Yang’s hold on you.  Thinking Weiss needs some space you continue forward, following Yang until you make it around a bend in the trees and suddenly your face is being splattered with a fine mist.  
The rumbling has become a roar and and you quickly find its source.  Water from a stream tumbles down over the side of a cliff in front of you.  The noise being created as the heavy liquid crashes into the rocks below.  You’ve seen many beautiful scenes in your travels, but this one would definitely rank pretty high on your list of top ten.  
“I told you!” Ruby squeals, suddenly at your side. “Where’s Weiss?” She inquiries quickly realizing she’s missing.  You point towards the path and Ruby takes off with another flurry of rose petals.  
“Let’s go.” Tearing your eyes away from the white mist floating up into the sky you see Yang motioning for you to follow her.  You watch as she approaches the cliff and starts climbing.  She makes it halfway up before she looks back to make sure you’re following.  Hanging from one arm she sees you haven’t taken a single step in her direction.  “Come on, don’t tell me a little cliff has Kitten scared.”  You glare but cross your arms, refusing to move. “I promise if you get stuck up a tree or something I’ll come rescue you.”
“I’m not scared and I doubt I’ll ever need you to rescue me, least of all when I’m in a tree.”
“Meh,” Yang shrugs, reaching up to continue her climb.  “Guess the term scaredy-cat is around for a reason.”
You’ve had about enough of her cat references, but she’s challenged you and you curse your competitive nature as you sprint forward towards the sheer rock wall.  You spring up onto a large boulder at its base and jump, catching your foot into a deep crevice.  Nimble fingers find cracks in the surface and you push vertical with both legs and arms springing up to reduce the distance between you and Yang.  She’s probably got more upper body strength - who are you kidding - she’s got more overall body strength than you, but you’re lighter and definitely more agile.  You’re able to swing and pivot against the wall where Yang’s bulkier form would be hard pressed to follow, and in this way you’re able to move more quickly up the jagged surface.  The last hold you find is a root sticking out from a tree above, growing too close to the cliff’s edge.  There’s just enough space for you to half crouch on its surface and you look at the remaining fifteen feet to the edge above you.  Timing your last jump perfectly you land squarely on Yang’s shoulders and you hear her grunt beneath you, digging her fingers more tightly into the cracks holding her to the rock face.  You leap and perform a flip before gracefully landing at the top of the cliff.  
Crouching you peek over the side at Yang’s angered face.  “You still coming?”  The muscles of Yang’s jaw pop as she grinds her teeth.  “Or do you need me to rescue you?”  
What you expect is for Yang’s anger to bubble, for her to grumble and fume and call you out for almost making her fall off the cliff with your actions. You expect her to retaliate in some way.  From what you’ve heard, her anger is the way in which she loses control and since you’ve known her you’ve never seen Yang frazzled.  She’s always been confident, bordering cocky at times, and she shows this in the way she gives her advice without being asked or in the way she teases you. She’s strong, self aware, put together, and just Yang.  That’s who she’s always been in your three summers worth of memories of her, but you remember Ruby telling stories of her sister’s unchecked temper.  You remember the stories of an irritable Yang, one that got into trouble, picked fights with those out of her league, and created problems with her rash decisions.  As far as you know Ruby is the most credible source for information on Yang, but you’ve never seen that side of the older girl.  It comes as a surprise when Yang’s angered expression morphs into something altogether pleased.  It’s shocking how disappointed you are.
You back away from the ledge when she reaches for it to pull herself the final distance to your level.  She stands there, only two strides separating you and just looks with that odd half-smile plastered on her lips. There’s a loud silence between you and you’re not sure what it is or what it means so you avert your eyes and wrap your arms around your middle.  
Yang clucks her tongue against her teeth and turns to approach the stream. “Come on.” She calls over her shoulder.
Following only because you don’t know what else you’re supposed to do now that you’re up here.  Pausing on the bank as Yang hops onto a boulder in the middle of the rapidly moving stream. She makes a few more leaps until she’s perched comfortably on the largest rock, right at the edge of the cliff.  Yang leans forward to peer down at the water falling directly below her than turns her challenging lilac eyes to you.
“Let’s go already.” She calls to you excitedly. “Hurry up.”
“You’re crazy, I’m not coming out there.”
If it weren’t for your extra pair of ears you’re sure her responding snort would have been drowned out by the noise drifting up from below.  
“Don’t tell me Kitten doesn’t enjoy getting wet.”
A scoff is pulled from your throat. “Grow up and don’t be so crude.”
“What are you talk-“ Yang’s eyes widen comically, she stares at you in almost awe before her trademark sly cheshire grin replaces it.  “I hadn’t even meant it that way.” She states, eyes smiling. “But good to know that’s where your mind is.” Her wink has you blushing and your teeth find the corner of your bottom lip. “And Kitten?” You hum as a response but keep her eyes. “If you’re not enjoying being wet in that way, you’re doing it all wrong.”
With that she lets herself fall backwards, arms spread out at fom her body. You watch in horror as she slowly disappears over the edge of the falls. Rushing forward you frantically scan the water below for her body; seconds tick by like hours.  Finally she emerges from the water taking large gasping breaths.  Her heart must be beating like crazy.  
“What the fuck!” You yell at her, angered that she had your heart stopping in worry.  “Ruby, your sister has lost her damn mind.” You yell interrupting the couple standing on the other side of the small pool Yang is now calmly backstroking through.  
“Yeah,” Ruby calls back. “She’s kind of a show off.”
“She’s kind of a dick.” It’s said under your breath so you know none of them can hear, but it feels good to say anyway.
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mwolf0epsilon · 6 years ago
Text
DBH - The Giraffe Story
And here you go! Another OC drabble, this time another human. Asad Siddiq, or Mr. Siddiq if you prefer, is a Pakistani immigrant who became a successful environmental lawyer. His hobbies include taxidermy and rescuing animal androids. He was the one to give Carl his decorative giraffe, and the story behind why is a bittersweet one.
Enjoy
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    It all started with a lonely giraffe in a zoo. Granted you could say it actually started when the news announced said giraffe's mate had died, leaving it as the sole member of its species still walking on the face of the Earth, but frankly that sounded a lot worse than it really needed to be, and Mr. Siddiq wasn't one to add more of a negative tone to an already bleak situation.
So, like any other reasonable gentleman, he liked to think it started with the giraffe, and not with what led him to it.
For all events and purposes of this odd little romantic tale, it all started with that one lonely giraffe and two equally lonely men in their late 50s.
    He'd been widowed for at least two months now. Once married to a darling spitfire of a woman with a hardent passion for nature just as strong as his own, and now married to his work in conservation biology and environmental law.
You could call him well adjusted and ready to move on, but Siddiq himself wouldn't call it that. For one, it still felt odd being alone in the house they'd built together.
He felt that it was much too big for one man to live in on his lonesome, with corridors filled with professional photographs of various animals and remote locations, as well as various trinkets acquired on many journeys.
Each trinket, each photo, spoke a tale of its own. A shared story that sadly there was no one else to stand by him and traverse those lovely memories with, nor to look up in awe at the subjects of his and his late missus's interests.
From proud pouncing tigers to the gentlest of monolithic elephants, immortalized in their works. He'd been a photographer once, just as she'd been a painter before she became a cellist.
He seldom received visitors, much less a letter or call from his relatives who elected to remain living in Pakistan despite his offers to accommodate them if ever they needed a change of scenery.
Without Darlene, home just didn't feel complete, which contradicted the mere idea that he was done grieving his loss, much less the loss of opportunity to ever have a substantial family.
A 55 year old was expected to be a grandfather by now, but neither he nor Darlene had ever had much of a chance to spawn and raise a child.
Much like the giraffe he was visiting, Mr. Siddiq was at a loss for how to remedy his mournful moods. And no amount if work, as devout as he was to his cause, could fill the void his own departed mate had left.
    Mr. Siddiq had known for a while that the Detroit zoo was having issues maintaining the exhibits. For all that they desperately tried to keep their animals in good health, it was getting harder to tend to the needs of their larger animals who were at risk of going extinct.
Breeding programs were ineffective and far too stressful for the animals, and the lack of even numbers of opposite sexes was slowly becoming a problem.
Without a diverse gene pool, there was a high likelihood of inbreeding occurring, and that was unacceptable.
There was also dietary issues for the herbivores who's main sources of nutrition were slowly disappearing as well, with the extinction of certain species of trees and other plants.
They could introduce substitutes, but a lot of animals were very picky eaters...
It wasn't for a lack of trying that things didn't work out...There was just not much they could do anymore to save certain species, as was the case of the giraffe. This of course, was being used as an excuse for Cyberlife to produce more android animals which, while quite useful for educational purposes, were grossly misused in entertainment more than in the spread of information. Why bother with the real deal when you could use androids for whatever you desired?
A pity, he thought, as he stared up at the large mammal as it seemed to roam aimlessly in its enclosure. It was searching for another that was no longer there, who'd never return.
 “Poor thing...It's never known freedom and now it'll die alone...” he spoke to no one in particular as he watched the poor creature continue it's aimless passing. He could empathize with it's struggles.
A hum of agreement made him pause, startled out of his thoughts, before he turned to his left and saw his unexpected sympathizer. A man, possibly in his 50s much like Siddiq himself, stood leaning against the rails while staring up and up just as he had been, at the long necked ungulate. If the giraffe took any notice of the addition to its audience of one, it did not show it whatsoever.
 “Indeed. It's quite a pitiful story...To be born to entertain humanity, meet the one other that can understand it, and then be left to rot because it was deemed a lost cause the moment it's significant other passed...” The man smiled bitterly “All it's ever known is a caged life, acting as an object of a crowd's admirations, and now the one speck of happiness it had, it's mate, is no longer there to help it pass on peacefully when it's time does come...”
 “Poor Jeoffrey.” Siddiq agreed while turning back to look at the animal. It had paused briefly before turning around and snorting. It had given up looking in that part of the exhibit perimeter.
Brown eyes wandered back to the other man, studying his features carefully.
The man was quite slender, with a posture indicative of a sort of regal yet rebellious nature. The stance of a upperclassmen who'd earned his fortune through hard work and ingenuity.
His hair had begun to grey, although Siddiq could still identify him as a brunet. The blend of chestnut and silvery hues seemed to compliment pensive blue pools that gazed so intently at the giraffe enclosure.
He could almost see gears turning from the intensity of that stare alone.
A studious and clever man, one with a potential eye for detail.
A photographer or an artist.
Most impressive were the tattoos.
Hexagonal patterns that seemed to fill and ripple alluringly on pale flesh, ending only where wrist met callused hand.
Mr. Siddiq stood in the presence of a very handsome man.
“You know, giraffes were always my second favorite animal...They aren't very picky with what company they seek.” he commented as he tried to look away, mind threatening to wander from the topic at hand due to the aesthetic pleasenthoods of his companion.
 “Quite the clever and majestic creatures.” The other agreed as he continued to watch the giraffe trot around in its enclosure, now wandering in the opposite direction it had once been exploring.
It ignored the food it had at its disposal. The zookeeper's had expressed their concerns that it no longer ate as it should. “Truly, they are beautiful animals. It will be quite sad to see this poor fellow go...”
 “The veterinarian that worked with the giraffes would beg to differ...She was quite frustrated Jeoffrey refused the female from the breeding program before the poor thing passed away of complications. She was adamant there would have been hope for the species, which is doubtful at best…”
 “...You're telling me someone had prejudice against a gay giraffe in this day and age?” the amusement was palpable, he quite liked the sound of laughter in this curious stranger's voice.
 “Like beating a dead horse, wouldn't you say?” Mr. Siddiq chuckled back. “I must say, the poor thing was much happier when that handsome young bull was around. It will indeed be quite sad when he passes...Although, the owner is a dear friend of mine and he has given me permission to acquire the body later.”
 “For what purpose?” he other raised an eyebrow, perhaps unsure of what a person would do with an entire dead giraffe.
 “Taxidermy is a hobby of mine...Working on a giraffe...I'd consider it both a challenge and privilege at my age. And then, when I'm done, I will likely donate it to the museum of natural history. Perhaps the Smithsonian if they are interested.”
The man finally turned to look at him, regarding Mr. Siddiq with inquisitive and inviting eyes as blue as gems, before extending a hand and offering a tired yet hopeful smile. The tattoos adorning his arms were indeed very pleasing to the eye.
 “Carl Manfred.” he introduced himself, a name that rang familiar.
 “Asad Siddiq.” the smile was quickly returned, as was the firm handshake. They'd known right there and then that they'd become good friends, just as Asad knew his greatest work would eventually go to someone other than a museum, although for at least two weeks into that particular project, he hadn't yet known why he'd thought so.
    Their brief conversation had led to many more after they'd exchanged contacts. They'd made it a regular thing for the next 7 years, to meet at the enclosure until the day Jeoffrey finally passed.
They felt it only fair that the poor creature would have company in some way, until it's final day arrived.
These encounters eventually evolved into what the Media described as “Carl Manfred's most scandalous affair as of yet”. Complete and utter nonsense, as Carl would need to be married for it to be an affair. Both of them concluded that the Media needed to shove it and allow them peace, as what they did together in the bedroom was no one's business but their own.
No one was too old to date, and neither of them were so close minded that they couldn't appreciate the company of another man. Quite the contrary, as Carl put it to a pesky journalist who'd caught them on a coffee date.
 “I was born in 1963, not the dark ages.” Carl had remarked as he'd rolled his eyes, scrolling past the nonsense on his pad and smirking as he found the crosswords section. “If you'd rather I answer questions, then here is an interesting one… What is an eight letter word for someone who interviews people of interest in their personal time off?”
 “A...Reporter?” The young man had asked tentatively.
 “No. A fuckface.” Carl deadpanned before pointing at the door. “If you want an interesting story to publish go next doors to the bakery, their prices are so outrageous they might as well be the cause for murder.”
Siddiq had burst out in laughter as he watched the young man's face turn to one of shock, before he scrawled and marched off muttering about old people being entitled and rude.
 “Reporters these days...Just as invasive as they were when reality shows were the biggest thing…”
 “You'll find they still are.” Siddiq replied as he took a bagel from their shared plate, laughing even more at the look of pure horror.
 “Good heavens, still?! Have we not grown past watching people make fools of themselves?”
 “Never. We are a hopeless kind.”
    Then, the day arrived, where Siddiq got a call during one of his and Carl's coffee dates.
It had been a, thankfully, uneventful date this far and they'd been peacefully discussing philosophy, when the zoo owner informed Mr.Siddiq that he could pick up the body that same afternoon.
 “I've seen your work.” Carl had commented as he'd arranged for the truck to deliver the animal to his workshop. “A giraffe is much larger than a cat or a moose. Are you sure your old bones can bare stuffing a 800 kg animal?”
 “I assure you, if I can tire you after you've had one of your famed “bouts of inspiration” then I'm sure I can manage a giraffe that won't move a single inch.” Siddiq chuckled.
 “It's a pity that you'll be working on it...Are you sure you wouldn't want to come with me on vacation?” Carl had leaned against him and rested his chin on Siddiq's shoulder, attempting to sway him with puppy dog eyes.
 “I am sure taking me along on a trip with the mother of your son, and the child in question, would be rather awkward…” he'd stated before giving his lover a peck on the nose. “You need to connect with them Carl...I know you aren't a family man, but the boy deserves to get to know his father.”
 “I know...But I feel like I can't quite connect with Leo.” Carl confessed. “The boy is 16, and I've just turned 66. Anything I have to say, he'll find rather dull.”
 “Carl, if it took 7 years for a very gay and very depressed giraffe to die, I am sure it will take longer for your very bisexual and very stubborn ass to ever grow dull, even to a young boy.” Siddiq reassured. “Get to know him, you'll find you might enjoy having a child.”
Perhaps in the end that had been asking too much. He should have known life wouldn't have made it easy, and that Carl wouldn't come around to the prospect of a large loving family until much later in life, when his mind filled with regrets and what ifs.
Siddiq just never expected to get a call during a conference, detailing the nature of the accident his lover had been in on his journey to return home.
The moment Carl returned, wheelchair bound and perturbed by his predicament, was the day they both knew things would never be the same.
    They tried to save their relationship, just as the zoo had tried to save their giraffe population to no avail.
Carl was not in a very good state of mind, had frequent meltdowns, took to using drugs to escape, barely pursued his interests, and refused physical and emotional support.
He had become a recluse in his own home, and Siddiq found himself feeling unwelcome and alone in his workshop for days on end, because his lover no longer desired his company.
He could say he fought to the bitter end to save seven years worth of mutual love and respect, but then he'd be lying.
Fighting a losing battle wouldn't have done either of them any good and, while the breakup was the worst part of the ordeal, Asad Siddiq was not a bitter man and held no grudge.
He knew Carl was not at fault.
The day they finally parted as a couple, was the day he'd completed work on the giraffe.
He had it delivered to Carl's home, and set it as decoration to hide the stairs he could no longer climb on his own. The call he'd walked in on, reassured him his would not be the only gift arriving that same day, as he knew Elijah Kamski to be a young clever man who never announced his presence if not to accompany it with an act of brilliant kindness.
An android might have sufficient patience to set Carl back on track. They were much more resilient than old fragile hearts after all.
 “Why are you giving me this?” Carl had asked after the men he'd hired finished setting the taxidermied masterpiece in place. “You worked so hard on it, it'd be a waste to give it to an invalid who's been nothing but unpleasant to you.”
 “Because despite what we're about to discuss, I still love you, you old buffoon.” Siddiq replied calmly, before looking up at his work. “Think of it as me leaving my mark in your life dearest friend… As I feel we won't be seeing each other so soon until we've both figured out what we want.”
 “Asad…”
 “Carl, I don't blame you.” he interrupted before the other could have a say “I understand. It hurts terribly, but I understand why we must say goodbye for now.”
 “...I'll miss you.”
 “As I'll miss you dearest...”
The apology went unsaid, but it was felt between them both as they shared one last parting kiss.
It was funny.
He'd loved both Darlene and Carl in the same manner: With fervent passion and undying loyalty.
Yet losing Carl had left him feeling hollower than he had felt when he'd lost his wife.
Perhaps because Darlene couldn't control the fact she'd gotten deathly ill and that she had to leave, but Carl had the option of saving their relationship more than once and opted to isolate himself instead because his self-esteem had plummeted with the accident...Either way, he wished him the best, took one last look at the giraffe that had led to their first meeting, and resigned himself to moving on.
And moving on he did.
    It was 2038 now. Carl was 75 and Mr.Siddiq was 71. They'd both been very busy since the last time they had formally met.
Siddiq had been right in trusting that Elijah would find a way to help their friend, and Markus was truly proof of his recovery.
Carl had taught the boy well, raising him to be the polite, intelligent and charming young man that he was, and he'd finally made an effort to try mending the gap he'd put between himself and Leo.
Even now, as Siddiq showed his guests around his now extended abode, he couldn't help smile as he watched father and sons interact. It felt even more satisfying having his little Bo's hand in his own, the young girl chattering away to the leader of a revolution that set their kind free.
 “Papa's friends have been helping him take away all the animal androids that people were hurting. We have a lot of them living in papa's domes, and they all like it because papa chooses the right sizes and right plants and rocks to make them feel at home!” The YK500 excitedly explained as she looked up at Markus. Boadicea was a treasure and Siddiq had known for a fact Darlene would have loved her.
 “You've been busy Asad.” Carl commented.
 “Repurposing and remodeling greenhouses into eco domes? I would hardly call that busy. It was quite easy actually…” he dismissed before letting go of Bo's hand and producing a set of keys from his pocket. “Mind the snakes. Ahri is very picky about guests, and Jolene is known for biting tattooed men.”
They passed through a well lit room made to emulate several different biomes. A massive coral snake and an equally tremendous rattlesnake regarded them with inquisitive eyes, before hissing in warning at the three guests. A nasty habit they had to stir up some chaos.
 “Charming.” Carl chuckled, giving Markus a reassuring smile as the RK200 seemed to turn a shade lighter at the quantity of reptiles in the room. A phobia perhaps?
The coral snake hissed loudly as if to confirm this, adding an extra spring to Markus walk as he tried to put as much space between himself and the android reptiles.
 “Now, what I have to show you Carl, is something I've been very excited about the last few days.” Asad carried on as he led his guests to another door that led outside to the largest greenhouse in his property.
He'd made sure it had been correctly resized to house his newest acquisitions, and his darling Sasha lay outside the entrance awaiting them.
 “Is that a tiger?” Leo gulped.
 “Don't be scared mister. Sasha is a very good girl! She's the nicest kitty around.” Bo reassured as she ran to meet the big cat. The tiger chuffed at the child in greeting before getting up and walking over to meet with them.
She regarded their guests with mild interest before butting her head against Siddiq's hand. He gave her three nice strokes on her broad back before moving along. “Thank you darling, you may go play with Bo now.”
 “Come on Sasha! Papa had Houston's hoof repaired so you can race again!”
 “Is Houston a horse?” Markus asked.
 “No silly! Houston is a zebra! They're stripe buddies!”
 “Oh...Kay…” Leo shrugged at Markus when he seemed mildly puzzled by the idea of a tiger and a zebra being buddies, even if they were androids, before wheeling their father into the greenhouse behind Siddiq. He stopped not five feet in and stared in awe at the inhabitants of the greenhouse.
Markus and Carl shared his look of wonderment, while Asad smiled in satisfaction as he watched his herd of 40 android giraffes walking freely in the massive dome he and his team of WR600s had landscaped into an almost perfect replica of a South African landscape.
 “Beautiful isn't it? And to think all of them were rescued from different decrepit zoos...They immediately took to each other.”
 “Asad this is…” Carl's eyes were wide and twinkling. Never had he imagined he'd ever see giraffes roaming their natural habitat. Even if this was synthetic in nature, it still felt so incredibly real to them all, and it showed in their reactions.
 “I wasn't lying when I said giraffes were my second favorite animal Carl.” He chuckled “I consider them Jeoffrey's legacy... All of these domes are the real animals's legacy in fact. A look into the past.”
 “...Isn't Jeoffrey the name you kept calling the stuffed giraffe back at home?” Leo asked, to which Carl couldn't help chuckle.
 “Yes, that was the name he was given when he was born at the zoo a few decades ago…” Carl replied “Jeoffrey the giraffe.”
 “A rather classic and unimaginative name but it fit him. He certainly looked like a Jeoffrey.” Asad commented “It took me weeks to finish stuffing him, before I gifted him to Carl.”
 “A gift I still don't entirely feel like I deserve after treating you so shamefully after the accident…” Carl admired sadly.
 “You were hurt, and I lacked patience. I buried myself in work after I realized things weren't going to work out between us.” Asad gave his friend a pat on the shoulder. “We moved on, as did life, and we came out better for it…”
 “...Wait wait...So you two were like, a thing?” Leo asked.
Markus also seemed curious on this same matter.
The two merely chuckled and nodded in confirmation.
 “How did you meet?” Markus inquired. It must have seemed odd to him, an artist and an environmental lawyer mingling, like the tiger and the zebra. Not many hobbies they shared that could get them in the same room.
 “Now that…” Carl started. “Is a funny and rather long story.”
 “Well, we don't have to go back home until 18:00, so we have time.” Markus pointed out.
Leo seemed to agree with him, only once looking away to watch the giraffes. Two of them were necking, more so in a show of affection than aggression, while the rest of group carried on walking without them.
 “Very well, I don't see why I can't spare an hour or two…” Carl began a tale both he and Siddiq knew by heart. “...You can say it all started with a lonely giraffe in a zoo..."
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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 6 years ago
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Karin Hegstrom is helped to find her way out of the FFWPU / UC
From All God’s Children by Jo Anne Parke and Carol Stoner (pages 232 - 241)
Daphne Greene, a formidable and sensitive counter-cult activist on the West Coast, … has helped and encouraged many young people to leave the Moon church by spending countless hours talking to them and their parents. She says she will talk to anyone who willingly comes to listen.
Hundreds of young people have been convinced to leave religious cults during thoughtful discussions with concerned individuals such as Mrs Greene, Rabbi Davis and others. These re-evaluations of the cultist’s religious experience were not carried out under lock and key, but voluntarily. A parent who seeks to remove a son or daughter from the clutches of a cult must consider whether or not that young person would willingly hear the other side of the issue. Whatever alternative a parent decides to choose, it should be clearly defined and thought through before it begins….
Father Kent Burtner, the Oregon chaplain who offers cult members’ families a way to analyze their situation, has for years observed the rapid growth and expansion of the cult phenomenon and makes no effort to hide the strength of his convictions. “I am sick unto death that those kids are being used and exploited,” he says. For nearly a decade, Father Kent has been watching the followers of the Reverend Moon work to increase his flock. “The ways the Moonies recruit followers are deceitful,” he says. “And, the ends to which the energies of Moon’s disciples are aimed are just as indefensible as the ways their minds are captured.”
Before his charge in Oregon, Father Kent was a graduate student at Berkeley’s renowned Graduate Theological Union. In those days, the priest watched the changing political and religious scene and saw the Moon movement burst into bloom just as the flower children began to fade in the garden of the counter-culture.
Unification Church theology disturbs Father Kent. The message that Christ failed as a savior, along with the intricate plan whereby the Reverend Moon will unite and save the world, is offensive and upsetting to this Catholic priest. But a stronger reason for his counter-cult work is his fervent belief that the rights of individuals are being usurped by religious cults.
Any belief system that so polarizes the forces of good and evil, is mere negativism, is inhuman and intellectually dishonest,” he says. “The idea of the Manichaean split between good and evil denies the value of the human person. Moonies are asked to hold their objections and to drop them behind them. Pretty soon, if they ever turned around, there would be a huge pile of questions sitting there unanswered.” The priest points out also that cult members are not only discouraged from examining their questions, they are never even left alone for long enough to contemplate at all.
Father Kent in the West, and Rabbi Davis on the East Coast, are two of a very small number of clergymen who speak out against religious cults and who could be called counter-cult activists. Both of these men of the cloth are cautious about getting involved in activities that could be interpreted as illegal. But each will speak to any young cult member who is willing to listen.
When Father Kent was called to deprogram the young daughter of a Lutheran family, he agreed to help the family and the young woman with a re-evaluation of her life. She was not physically constrained or imprisoned in any way. Father Kent explains that he invoked her own intellectual integrity to make her listen to the sometimes “uncomfortable” facts about Sun Myung Moon and his Unification Church. The young woman is Karin Hegstrom, a college graduate from an Ohio farm family. Karin’s parents and her closest friend from childhood were all involved in the re-evaluation.
One Sunday morning just as he was about to celebrate Sunday Mass in the campus chapel, Father Kent received a frantic phone call from Karin’s father. Mr. Hegstrom asked the priest’s help in deprogramming his daughter. Several weeks earlier she had disappeared into the Unification Church and was now at the group’s New Ideal City Ranch in Boonville, California, 200 miles north of San Francisco.
In order to reach her, Karin’s father was considering swearing out a warrant for his daughter’s arrest, since she had taken some of the family’s possessions, including a car, into the church with her. Mr. Hegstrom was aware that this move might mean getting involved in a potentially irreversible legal action: his daughter could end up in jail. But arrest seemed to be the only way he could be sure she would leave the ranch. She had refused to come home and she had hung up on all her parents’ phone calls.
First Father Kent cautioned the Hegstroms not to do anything they might regret and advised them to wait until they could all get together to make some plans. “Yes,” he promised, “I will help as much as I can.” The Hegstroms had to understand that the priest would not break any laws, but he would do everything in his power to help. In the meantime, he would serve Mass and be free in an hour.
After the service, they spoke again and discussed Karin’s situation. She had broken off several conversations with her parents. She would not tell them much about her new life. In fact, she was very secretive. The Hegstroms were anxious and concerned about their daughter, and on the basis of the phone calls, had driven across the country with Karin’s close friend, Louise. They didn’t know how they were going to “rescue” their daughter, they only knew they were going to try.
The plan was made. The Hegstroms would visit their daughter at Boonville and convince her to come with them to visit an aunt and uncle who live in a small town nearby. They had already tried to phone Karin, but were unable to reach her. The parents felt they had been given a run-around, so Father Kent gave them the phone number of Martin (Noah) Ross, director of the Boonville ranch and an ardent follower of the Reverend Moon. Mr. Hegstrom told the young man that he and his wife would, under whatever circumstances necessary, see their daughter. The ranch director agreed that Karin would meet her parents at the ranch gate.
Karin came out of the padlocked gate, which is located miles from the ranch’s lodgings and main buildings, and met with her father. After much talking, Mr. Hegstrom convinced Karin that the only way she could demonstrate her sincerity about the Unification Church was to come with them for an overnight visit and explain her feelings. “We need to talk. And, if you feel you must, we’ll let you come back,” he told her.
The two drove off to the home of Karin’s aunt and uncle where her mother and her friend, Louise, were waiting. There was an emotional reunion, especially between the friends, as Karin told Louise she wanted her to experience the joy of being a member of the Unification Church. “I want to convert you as my first spiritual child,” she said.
Father Kent was also waiting and Karin abruptly questioned his presence at the reunion. “He’s here for me, isn’t he?”
That evening, Karin tried every ruse she could think of to avoid talking to the priest. First she and Louise went for a long walk. Then she said she wanted to spend some private time with her parents, then her aunt and uncle, all to avoid the confrontation she knew, by now, was inevitable. Although the young woman was trying to avoid having her belief tested in a discussion with the priest, she was not held against her will, doors and windows were not locked and bolted, but she made no attempt to leave. Karin Hegstrom had promised to spend the night with her family and she seemed determined to live up to her bargain.
Ultimately, Karin sat down with Father Kent, Louise and her parents. They asked questions about her new life, cautiously and without hostility, and she attempted to answer them, saying only, “It is so wonderful. You will have to visit and see for yourselves. You might not like it,” she grudgingly advised Father Kent, “since you are a priest.”
After several hours of questions, to which Karin responded only with bits and pieces of vague information, everyone was frustrated.
Then Father Kent asked a question that was calculated to arouse emotion. “Why have you accepted Moon and his wife as your true parents, and not your mother and father here?”
Later the family said they feared the entire neighborhood heard Karin’s screamed response. “You always drank, and made us work on that farm. And you hit us all the time,” she yelled at her father.
And to her mother she screamed, “You were so helpless. You wouldn’t lift a finger to help.”
Karin then turned on the priest. “The church was so hypocritical. And no one cared about anyone else or about living any kind of decent lives.”
Pain that was for so long denied and camouflaged in this family had finally surfaced. Karin stopped screaming and ran into the kitchen, tears streaming down her face. Her parents wept too. Karin’s father followed her into the kitchen and everyone present heard what he told his daughter. “Maybe we did make some mistakes. But it’s not too late. Honest, honey, we’ll try to make it up to you. Please listen to what we have to say. I never knew how you felt.”
They returned to the living room and Karin asked Louise to come with her to talk. They excused themselves for a few minutes and when they returned they told of a bargain they had made. Karin would listen, but she would not respond. She would stay at the house, but only if no one questioned her. She would listen to anything they wanted to tell her and that’s all.
In exchange for Karin’s attention, Louise promised to visit one of the Unification Church’s Creative Community Project houses in San Francisco, where Karin had been recruited by the Moonies.
Father Kent says he “quavered inside,” when he thought of how often a young person attempts to rescue a friend or sister or brother and ends up being converted to the church themselves. “We might,” he worried, “end up having to rescue both young women.” But it was too late to worry. The bargain had been made.
They spent a few more hours talking to Karin about Unification Church theology and practice, then everyone went to bed. Father Burtner, who was bunking on the living room sofa, went over his copy of the Unification Church’s 120-day training program, making notes of salient points to refer to the next day. Just as the sun rose over the horizon, the priest decided he’d crammed all his tired brain could absorb, and dropped off to sleep for a few hours.
That morning he sat with Karin and Louise around the kitchen table and continued the one-sided discussion. The priest had decided not to violate Karin’s bargain, but to encourage her to explain views she had never really clarified for herself. He set his copy of the 120-day program nearby, but took pains not to refer to it. Instead he talked about Unification Church theology, explaining how the belief system differs from Christianity. Finally, to clarify a point she wanted to make, Karin reached for the 120-day training manual.
“Ah-haaa,” the priest said to himself. “This is the beginning.”
Studying the manual, Karin began to feel that the verbal interpretations of church philosophy she had been given were not always based on fact. By the end of the second day of re-evaluation Karin was feeing betrayed, confused and angry. She jumped up, caught Louise by the arm and pulled her outside. “I won’t stay a minute longer,” she told her friend. They walked together until Karin spotted a pay telephone. The priest was following them, at a distance, but he was close enough to hear what they were saying.
“You’re running away from the one person who can help you out of this mess, who can help you understand what to do with your life,” Louise was shouting. “And you won’t even give him a chance to talk to you. You’re turning your back on the one person who can help you. You may never have another chance ...”
Then, just as the two young women came to the phone booth, Karin threw her purse down and began to cry. “Okay,” she sobbed, “I’ll listen. But I am going back tomorrow.”
Father Kent drew Karin aside and tried to comfort her by telling her how he once questioned his faith when he was a seminarian. “I felt like the loneliest soul in the world,” he said, “and I know you do too. But please listen to us. I want you to believe that we want to help you. You are mixed up in something that is much bigger than you know.” She picked up her handbag and they walked back to the house. After more discussion, the priest and Louise conferred privately. “All of Karin’s doubts,” Louise told him, “seem to hinge on who and what the Reverend Moon is, charlatan or savior?” Karin knew little about her adopted religious leader. She had not even learned of his existence until weeks after she joined his church.
“I know someone who knows a lot about the Reverend Moon,” Father Kent told Louise.
And so they planned a visit to Daphne Greene, who lives nearby in Ross, California. Mrs. Greene, mother of two children who have been involved in the church, one a former Moonie and the other still a member, is also a former president of the board of trustees of Berkeley’s Graduate Theological Union, a highly respected coalition of theology schools. This wife of a prominent Bay Area attorney is deeply religious and politically attuned. She has been watching the Unification Church, with a wary eye, since before her own children became involved.
“Bring the girls and come on over,” she said. “I’ll make sure Ford” (her son who left the church on his own) “is around, they can all spend some time together.” The next day the threesome went to the Greene’s hilltop home, and after a meeting, the three young people set out for a day at the beach.
That day, Ford Greene and later his mother told Karin facts about the Reverend Moon, his origins in Korea, his questionable political and financial goals, and how his brand of religion is not always compatible with Christianity.
By the end of the day, Karin had decided not to return to the Unification Church. “How could a girl like me get involved in something like that?” she wondered.
Father Kent knew that Karin and her parents still had some unfinished business to discuss so when they returned to the relatives’ home they all sat down with her mother and father and discussed the indictments Karin had screamed at her parents a few days earlier. Her parents wondered, “Could we have made Karin’s growing up less difficult somehow? Has life been so tough for our kids?” They didn’t have answers, but they decided they would make an attempt, however belated, to improve their lives. Karin’s father promised to join Alcoholics Anonymous and he has. Karin’s mother began to understand why she was chronically depressed, how she had lost control of her own life. The family promised to seek regular counseling.
Karin and the priest discussed her personal problems. Karin had had what in the Unification Church are called “chapter two,” or sexual problems. Karin is a big girl, not fat, but far from petite. She said she felt unattractive and inadequate with men and couldn’t always trust her own feelings. They agreed that it is not easy to learn to deal with members of the opposite sex. But Father Kent encouraged Karin to deal with doubts by facing rather than avoiding them.
No one in the Hegstrom family solved their problems that day. But it may have been the first time the family recognized them and promised to seek counseling. And they decided that they do care for each other and that each member would try to be kinder and more considerate. And, Karin was no longer a Moonie.
With planning rather than haste a re-evaluation, such as that done by Father Kent, or a deprogramming can be arranged for optimum success. …
The debriefer or deprogrammer needs to be made aware of sore spots in the family relationships and should learn as much as possible about the background, personality and life of the potential subject. Not all family problems are as easily unearthed as those of the Hegstroms, and neither are most families as willing to face difficulties with honesty and openness. …
Ideally, a re-evaluation of a cult member’s life and beliefs should be the result of a parent-child bargain. “If you intend to spend the rest of your life in that group, you owe us a week (or two weeks) of your time,” is one approach. Rabbi Davis has, himself, conducted well over one hundred “rescues” that came about this way. The young people Rabbi Davis has talked out of religious cults were probably no happier about a confrontation with him than Karin Hegstrom was about hers with Father Kent. But each came and sat in the rabbi’s unlocked study, across the desk from him, or sharing a sofa with him, and talked and listened. And each ultimately left a cult. He reports few “failures.”
__________________________________
“Their feelings appear to them as being evil or the cause of their fallen condition… resulting in a repression of emotions.”
Excellent podcast: Ford Greene, Attorney and Former Moonie, on the Death of Rev. Moon
https://www.peterbcollins.com/podcast/PBC_20120928p607.mp3
Sun Myung Moon’s theology used to control members
Moonwebs by Josh Freed
Crazy for God: The nightmare of cult life by Christopher Edwards
Barbara Underwood and the Oakland Moonies
Boonville’s Japanese origins
Life Among the Moonies by Deanna Durham
Mitchell was lucky – he got away from the Unification Church
My Time with the Oakland Family Moonies – by Peter from New Zealand
Cult Indoctrination – and the Road to Recovery
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neverwatchedonepiece · 7 years ago
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551-552: "The Battle Is On! At Conchchorde Plaza!" and "A Surprising Confession! The Truth Behind the Assassination of Otohime!"
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I KNEW IT!!
I knew that scumbag Hordy was behind Otohime’s assassination! Oh, I only wish I’d been a fan while these chapters were being released so I could have made a bet with someone. Then again... everyone reading at that time probably knew too. I mean the flags were vast and red.
As soon as I saw the title for 552 flash up, I thought, “Yes. This is it. Hordy is gonna confess.”
Was not disappointed.
And that wasn’t all. The reveals kept coming. The circumstances of the assassination? Check. Madame Sharley’s family? Check. 30,000 hidden human slaves? Double check. Plus, I finally know what Noah is (yes, it is a “what” and not a “who”). And it is currently being controlled by Decken who has finally gone off the deep end.
Why Does Hordy Look Like He’s About to Judge Someone on a Talent Show?
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Have to say, I forgot to mention something in the last post. Neptune brought up an inconvenient truth about the Fish Roids. Those rad pills that grant you super strength? They come packed with horrendous side-effects. Namely: they take years off your life.
Maybe that’s why Hordy has snow white hair now as well as a water shoot attack that can fell buildings and destroy royal army squadrons.
Episode 551 served pretty much to build Hordy’s threat potential as a villain. And boy it was done in quick time. By the end of 551, he had strung up Neptune, decimated the royal army, the royal ministers and had defeated all three princes.
I kind of hate Hordy’s guts right now, so it was nice to see the islanders so concerned for their beloved king, shielding children’s eyes as the execution convoy flew past. Neptune’s guard tried to take a stand, but Neptune told them to run, not to die a meaningless death. See, that’s the difference between a good king and Hordy (I refuse to call him a king. He ain’t crowned yet). Neptune cares for his people and they respect and care from him in turn.
At the plaza, Hordy’s Head Goons assembled. Brave islanders climbed the walls because they wanted to rescue Neptune. They had prime seats for the upcoming show.
By the time they had scaled the fence, Hordy had cleared out the royal guard and installed himself on a giant pink beanbag throne. Neptune was trussed up to a St Andrew’s style cross. No idea if there’s any symbolism there, but Andrew was called a “fisher of men”. Maybe it’s just the whole martyrdom thing. Being willing to die for the peaceful ideals of Otohime. Or maybe Oda just thought, “Yeah.... saltire crosses. That’ll do.”
One poor soldier tried to pull off a suicide attack. If he could just take out one of the Head Goons before the princes arrived, it would aid the rescue effort. But the merciless hype machine ground its gears and the solider became fodder for Hordy’s power up. 
It was an impressive power up. Just the normal water shoot bullet but ramped up to eleven. BOOM! It blasted through walls, buildings, rock formations and only lost momentum miles away at Mermaid Cove. I thought, “This guy really is a scumbag. He’s just wreaking havoc and destroying things because, lel, this is fun and I have the power now.”
Then the princes arrived. I finally remember all of their names! Fukaboshi, Ryuboshi and Manboshi. Better late than never. The spectators on the wall cheered. The princes were here! King Neptune would be saved! Hurrah! The princes declared, “WE WILL SAVE YOU, FATHER!”
I felt like Madame Sharly. I could see what was coming a mile off.
Fukaboshi, because he’s going to become king someday and be fucking excellent, gave another good speech. “Why don’t you understand, Hordy Jones? You people are the weakest on this island [Hordy was triggered by this]. The other islanders were trying to ignore the history of discrimination by humans and to forgive the murder of their hero and their queen who died at the hands of a human [oh, Fukaboshi...]. They endured their pain to change their future and sign their names. Why can’t you appreciate the boldness and kindness of their decision?”
Because he’s Fishler, that’s why. You can’t reason with Fishler types. You could say, “Well, remember that chap Whitebeard? He was an alright human, wasn’t he?” and a Fishler would shriek, “NO, HE WAS JUST PRETENDING! WHITEBEARD WAS FAKE NEWS!” Or, “Have you ever been to the surface, Fishler?” and they would reply, “NO, BUT I DON’T NEED TO.” (I think Hordy has because he’s a pirate, but the attitude’s the same).
I don’t know why they talk in caps. But 
Now, the annoying thing about Hordy’s goons beating down the princes was that those boys are actually no slouches. Were it not for the Roids, they could easily have kicked ass.
But Hordy claimed they would never lose, as the had been, and I quote, “given great power from above.” From above? As in the surface? Now that’s suspicious. Who has been supplying these Fishmen with Roids? I half expect Vegapunk to be involved somehow.
At any rate, the Head Goons showed their stuff. Roided up, they were faster, stronger and crushed the princes. And they were strung up alongside their dad.
And It Gets Worse
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No, not just because of the crowd of Hordy’s followers baying for blood.
Back at the Sea Forest... the fight between Jimbei and Luffy had been off-panelled.
This, I think, is weird. We did not get to see Luffy in a mangled, defeated state. We never got to see Sanji, Nami, Chopper, Robin or Franky. All we heard was Jimbei saying, “Phew, he gave me a hard time,” before he escorted Shirahoshi back towards the palace.
Except that didn’t work out because they thought a balloon version of Neptune was the real thing and were netted and dragged off to the plaza. (I am suspicious of the lack of Luffy, so I kind of hope this is a roundabout scheme from Jimbei. Schemes wouldn’t work with Luffy but maybe Jimbei’s clever enough to steer him in the right direction and count on Luffy being Luffy to sort things out in the end).
Hordy was pleased at the special delivery of Jimbei, Shirahoshi and Megalo. Before that, he didn’t want to kill his hostages until Shirahoshi was lured to the plaza. It’s her power to call Sea Kings that he feared most and other than Neptune, she is the one he wants dead most. It was also the only reason he teamed up with Decken. (Now it makes sense! I thought Hordy only wanted a way into the palace.)
The poor audience of islanders on the walls, though... they were distraught. It was like a quadruple whammy of gut punches. First Neptune, then the princes, and now Jimbei and their beloved princess Shirahoshi. I mean, I’d wager Jimbei is almost as much of a legendary figure as Fisher Tiger nowadays. To see him brought so low must be truly shocking (still hoping it’s a ploy).
Now Hordy’s only concern is what the Strawhats will do. He guessed they’d return to the palace, free Zoro, Usopp and Brook. But he had some surprise guests waiting for them...
Yes, that’s right! 30,000 human slaves Hordy caught! Plus another 70,000 armed thugs (fodder for Strawhats). “One hundred thousand outlaws together!” he crowed. I guess this proves Hordy can perform basic addition.
I mean, there were a few female and child slaves along with the male ones, but they would be taken care of later. And I don’t think he means given a hot meal and a roof over their heads. :|
Madame Sharly Steps Up
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This is when the episode got Extra Juicy.
Madame Sharly stepped up, spoke up and got Hordy so wound up he snapped and went completely off the rails in public.
“You fools are a dishonour. Horsing around in public. You kids have no class at all. Don’t push your luck. I just wanted to say one thing to you since you’re at the height of your glory: a man will destroy Fishman Island.”
“Wasn’t it me you saw?” Hordy said, modestly.
Bad news, Hordy. “No. The man who will destroy it is Strawhat Luffy. I can’t tell what he’ll do specifically. But it is not you. The one who will determine the fate of Fishman Island is not you, Hordy Jones.”
Well...
Let’s just say this news was not received positively.
As Madame Sharly is another legendary figure in Fishman Island, her not backing Hordy’s rise to power was disastrous PR. Even the goons were freaking out. “Omg, that means Hordy will never gain control of Fishman Island. Her predictions are accurate!”
The Hordy stepped up and slapped the crap out of Madame Sharly.
Forget what I said last post about not wanting Luffy to come and sort shit out.
Get down here now because this guy needs taken down a peg.
I was so enraged by Hordy’s obvious threatened response to Madame Sharly that when he revealed she was ARLONG’S SISTER (WTF??) I barely heard it and had to rewind and watch it again. He also bare face admitted to her he was only using the Arlong Pirates name to unite people under his banner. 
Properly triggered by Sharly’s lack of support, he went on a mad, Roid-Rant, yelling that HE was the ONLY ONE who could take over Fishman Island. His scheme is ten years in the making! He had the power to do it. ONLY HIM. OH, AND BY THE WAY, YOU KNOW THAT QUEEN YOU ALL LOVED SO MUCH?
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I think this is Hordy’s biggest mistake. Some of you guys in the comments for the last post talked about Luffy sorting out Fishman issues not being a problem because would Hordy really have many supporters to resent Luffy?
After this, I am convinced he won’t have any. Because those islanders on the wall? They were enraged.
While Hordy had his villainous, “YES, IT WAS ME!” moment, a flashback revealed he did pay a human to be involved in the assassination. At first, I thought Hordy just paid the human pirate to shoot her. Was shocked but no surprised to learn that he hated Otohime so much that he wanted to pull the trigger himself. The human accessory only set fire to the petitions.
Hordy has gone so far off the deep end with the lack of Sharly support that he forgot that triggering Shirahoshi has geological scale consequences.
“Don’t you think she was annoying?” he said straight to Shirahoshi’s face. “She begged everyone not to seek revenge against humans but to be friends with them instead. She was bugging me because she’d almost accomplished her goal. I wasn’t satisfied with just killing her. [No of course you weren’t...] To me, your mother was someone who deserved death. I came up with the idea to make the best of her death, that would allow me to stoke the fire of hatred towards humans, that Fishmen citizens once had, and destroy the islanders’ stupid dream once and for all! I’d frame a human for killing her. You were all fooled exactly as I hoped. She was worth killing, right, Shirahoshi? She wasn’t killed by a human. She was killed by me. I, a kinsman, did it.”
I thought the earthquakes would start and the Sea Kings would begin, slowly, to stretch it out over several episodes, to swim towards Fishman Island. 
But no.
The twist was even better!
Shirahoshi turned to Hordy and said, “I already knew.”
WHAT THE---?
Honestly, I was as shocked as Jimbei. Even Hordy was dumbfounded. 
I cannot wait to find out how Shirahoshi knew. I mean, if she knew and didn’t tell anyone, that’s a pretty big ball to drop, you know?
Oh, and I forgot to mention this guy...
Decken: King of the Incels
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This is some next-level creepy madness, let me tell you. Especially when the news only a couple days ago reported that some incel just shot up a yoga studio because “women”.
I mean, Decken has a neckbeard and is even wearing a Fedora. It’s like Oda had a vision of the future and turned it into a pirate because the reality was just too weird.
Anyway, Decken has also gone off the deep end, and has adopted a: “If I Cannot Have Her, Everyone Will Die” mindset. To achieve this, he has brought to life an ship called Noah built by Fishmen “a while ago” (hmm.... seems older than that, but I’ll run with it.
I’m half thinking Noah could it be one of those Pluton-like weapons because the ship is half the size of Fishman Island, apparently. Great for ramming into a protective bubble and killing everyone in it, eh? Woo hoo! What a great guy!
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*whistles innocently*
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ifridiot · 6 years ago
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Honey, Don’t Feed It
Sometimes you can’t help people, even when they’re the ones you most want to.
Naia meets a young Stryfe. 
Naia is not a babysitter.
Fact of the matter is, Naia doesn’t like kids that much. Didn’t like kids when they were a kid, and now that that tenuous connection to that subset of humanity is gone, they would rather avoid them as much as possible, thank you so much for asking.
Okay, maybe that’s not fair. Naia might suck with babies (they’re too loud and the fact that they cry but can’t explain why they’re crying gives them anxiety) but once kids are old enough to communicate they can handle them pretty well for small doses. Little kids could even be endearing, once they got over their fear of Naia’s extra limbs and intimidating size. Kids usually did better than adults when it came to Spider-man rescuing them; they held on and stared in awe and then they ran back to their parents or to their siblings or to whoever came to collect them.
“I’m not a child.”
It’s teenagers Naia really can’t stand.
“Kid, you’re like twelve, hush.”
Standing between the kid and the cops, Naia has their arms spread in the traditional peacekeeping posture, one set of palms spread toward the boys in blue, one toward the telepathic kid on the edge of murdering a pair of bigots. Honestly, even if the kid wasn’t a kid, Naia knows who’s side they’d be on.
Cops are always wrong, and bigots belonged in the ground, but the issue here was more that it was seven in the morning and the kid is obviously strong enough to kill the assholes he’s got caught in some kind of telekinetic death grip but isn’t. Which means he’s not the bad guy.
Now to get the cops to put their guns down.
The crowd that has gathered around the scene is doing that collective silence thing that always makes Naia a little nervous. There are a lot of witnesses -- and potential victims, if the kid decides to go off. Judging by the fierceness on his face and the creep laying on the cement with blood trickling from his mouth, eyes, ears, and nose, the kid has a lot of power. Thus far he’s managed to reel it in -- the pavement-creep is breathing like it hurts, and from what Naia has gathered, he deserves it -- but if people start shooting, Naia doesn’t think self-control is going to be the first thing on the kid’s mind.
Ugh, telepaths. Kids and telepaths. This is gonna be the death of them, this exact bullshit. Kids and telepaths, they both want to get inside your head and then get mad when your thoughts aren’t the ones they wanted to hear.
Kid, they project, trying to remember how Mom taught them to do this. Shielding and trying to hold a private conversation is difficult and weirdly exhausting. You promise not to kill anybody and I’ll get you out of here. Take you somewhere safe, help you out as best I can. But you gotta put those guys down and come with me.
They wince, almost lose their shields, at the force of emotion -- rage and contempt and a sort of pain threaded through it that Naia is pretty sure they’re not supposed to pick up on -- that is slammed back at them. They insulted me! They deserve to die!
Someone makes a helpless noise of agony, and blood starts gushing from one of the asshole’s nose. The kid has them suspended in air and, as far as Naia can tell, the two humans can’t move at all. Now one of them has a broken nose. That’s pretty fantastic control for a kid.
Dangerous, too.
Kill ‘em and the cops start shooting. You’re gonna have the whole damn city after your ass, even if you can wipe all of us out. Public enemy number one.
Why shouldn’t I? The kid’s telepathic voice is cold, dripping with condescension, but the emotions that twist through the telepathy are laced with uncertainty. The kid is lost, obviously. Naia doesn’t know the whole story, is pretty sure they don’t want to know, but they do feel a sort of vague sympathy for the kid.
Whatever pain he’s working through, being insulted by a group of anti-mutant bigots was probably the least of it. He’s a very powerful kid, but he’s just a kid, one who’s been hurt bad by someone he probably trusted.
Naia sighs.
C’mon, kid. Don’t make me side with cops.
There’s a startled sense of amusement, which is a hopeful sign. A question curls around their brain, wordless, just the impression of consideration and hesitation. It wouldn’t be bad, except Naia can feel the kid peeling at their telepathic shields. He’s damn powerful, but no one’s evidently taught him subtlety.
I am so subtle! The kid snarls, and Naia smiles under their mask. The anger fades a little, replaced by curiosity. You can get me away from here?
“The kid is gonna come with me,” Naia says out loud, keeping a steady gaze on the cops. Unsurprisingly, none of them lower their weapons, but everyone’s hesitant to shoot Spider-man after he’d saved so many people. He was a symbol, and most of the cops knew you couldn’t publicly execute a symbol without good cause. “He’s gonna drop the assholes and we’re gonna go. No shooting necessary. No one dies, you can take the creep on the ground to the hospital, it all works out.”
Put the idiots down, kid. Show of faith, c’mon.
And wonder upon wonders, the kid does. He doesn’t do it gently; he drops them like the sacks of shit they are -- it doesn’t take a telepath to find a Neo-Nazi when the jackasses love to advertise their nationalist bullshit on their clothes -- and in another miracle, the assholes stay down.
Glancing at each other, the cops finally lower their weapons, and Naia nods. “We’re gonna go. Make sure the guy bleeding all over public property gets to the hospital. Or better yet, give him a ticket for littering. Public indecency. Whatever.”
That said, Naia moves quickly to the kid’s side. One of the assholes cranes his head up to glare at them, and he growls, “Fuckin’ muties.” Naia wants to put a boot through his teeth, but before they can move, the asshole screams, blood pouring from his eyes and his nose, altogether too similar to the one unconscious over by the cops. He collapses face first back against the pavement, hopefully just passed out, and Naia feels the prickly tingle of the danger-sense just before the sound of a gun being cocked reaches them.
“Goddamnit, kid,” Naia snarls, and before he can protest, they’ve got their right two arms around him, holding him against their body as they leap up onto the roof of the nearest building. He shouts, and shoves away as soon as they’re both on their feet.
“You can’t do that,” he says sharply, hands balled into fists, glaring.
“What, prevent your dumb ass from getting shot?” Naia snaps back, and it’s gratifying to see his mouth fall open, shocked. “Kid, I had you out of there scot free, and now your fuckin’ face is gonna be up all over the city as a dangerous mutant wanted, consider him armed and dangerous. Half those people down there were filming that. Gonna be all fuckin’ over YouTube now.”
The danger sense prickles again, and they half expect the kid to lash out, but his head twists toward the roof access door, eyes still wide. Naia sighs.
“They’re coming after us. So let’s get the fuck outta here. I can stash you somewhere for a while. Couple hours, ‘til the heat dies down some and you can get out of town tonight.”
“I have business here, I can’t leave!”
Kids. Fuckin’ kids and telepaths, Naia could just about scream. “Rain check your business, dipshit! Now can you use the TK to float or do I need to carry you?”
They’d seen Cable do that a couple times, but he was supposed to be super powerful or something. And he was old, had a lot longer to practice.
Looking back at them, the kid scowls. “I do not need to be carried.”
“Then float. Let’s go.”
Really, with the kind of attitude this kid’s got, Naia half expects him to obstinately stay put, or maybe run off on his own. He seems the sort of kid to refuse help on principle, but he also has that wide-eyed touristy look, and his clipped, formal way of speaking reinforces the idea that he’s not from around here.
As if the metal chest plate and cape thing wasn’t communicating that clearly enough.
He at least stops trying to pry into Naia’s head as they lead him into Brooklyn, leaping from building to building until they get to a quiet, rundown neighborhood. Most of the windows on the building they lead the kid do have been boarded over, and the place sucks to be stuck in during winter, but on a nice September day it shouldn’t be too bad.
“This building is abandoned,” he says, sounding disdainful. “You expect me to stay here?”
They sigh, prying open the plywood-covered maintenance door and holding it for him to go in first. “I know it’s not the Ritz, kid, but I’ve got food and a place to relax instead of being hunted all over the fucking city and getting your ass handed to you by one of the masked guys who don’t have a soft spot for idiot tourist kids.”
He stares again, but only for a second, before glaring and scowling, stalking into the building with a swish of his cape. “I’m not a kid,” he grumbles, and Naia finds it really funny that he thinks that’s the part of their assessment that needs correcting. They drag the door shut and hurry to get in front of him, leading him through the abandoned building to the ground-floor apartment they’d appropriated as a safe house. It was one of the only ones that had a door in the front room that hadn’t been kicked down or taken off its hinges.
“I can’t believe you’re happy your room still has a door,” he says, still scathing in that snotty way kids who grew up with nice things had.
“You should be glad too,” Naia says cheerfully, closing the door carefully behind them. “Means no homeless people have broken in and pissed on the couch again.”
It’s not the nicest safe house they’ve had, but it’s not bad. No electricity, but the broken down couch was comfy and there had been a number of cats locked in the apartment when they’d found it. Most of them and left and never come back when they’d left the windows open for them to roam, but one big tom, old and possessed of a rusty, broken meow, had stayed.
Presently he was curled on the center seat of the couch, sleeping. The kid stood looking at the cat like he wasn’t certain if he should chase it away or leave it alone.
“Cat’s not gonna bite, just take a seat,” Naia says, amused. “Luce is nice, but he doesn’t usually like strangers much.”
This was a lie, but Naia told it to everyone they brought here because it made them happy when Luce wanted to get in their lap or purred for them. And it’s really not a surprise that he perks up when the kid sits next to him, shoved up into the corner of the couch closest to the door. He stares at the cat for a moment longer and then looks away, folding his arms across his chest.
“You said there was food.”
Naia snorts softly, moving into the kitchenette. There was a useless (and ancient) fridge, but since there was no electricity it was more a pantry than anything. Somewhere to store stuff they didn’t want Luce (or any other animal who slipped in through the cracked window) to chew into. They pry it open and take stock of what’s available. “Yeah kid, just gimme a sec. You a picky eater?”
“No,” he says, and somehow makes it sound like he’s being gracious by telling them. “And my name is Stryfe.”
“Strife?” Their eyebrows rise under the mask, leaning back from the fridge to look at him. He is staring down at the cat, who is now sniffing carefully at the edge of his cape. “Is that, like, a code name, or…?”
“It’s my name,” he says primly, head held up and jaw set. “It’s spelled with a ‘y’.”
“Ah, okay,” they say, sticking their head back in the fridge. “So your parents just hated you.”
It’s meant playfully, but they can feel the sharp way he stares at them, and it’s like all the breath in the room went out. A raw nerve, and one they just kicked hard. Fuck.
“Uh, sorry, kid, that wasn’t… That was a bad joke, I didn’t mean anything by it.” The kid starts breathing again, and Naia thinks that’s okay then. They grab a couple ramen packets and a can of chicken and step over the the counter. “So, what’re you in town for?”
His silence is telling, and they can feel him in their head again, pushing at the shields they have up, prying into them, looking for some ulterior motive, some hidden threat. They wish they were better at this telepathic shielding shit, because as it stands, they’re out of practice and it’s exhausting.
“Kid, I want to help. I’m not cooking for you so I can stab you in the back later. You think I’m gonna call the cops on you? I’m Spider-man, me and cops don’t exactly go hand-in-hand.”
The mental pressure eases somewhat, but doesn’t entirely disappear. For a long moment, he’s quiet, and they think he’s not going to answer. That’s fine, it’s not really their business, and they’ve already had a long night. Then, he says, “I’m from the future.”
Naia tries not to feel exasperation. Time-travel shit is always exhausting. They rarely have to deal with it, but they’ve been dropped into enough parallel universes to know that they’re lucky in that regards. They get pan-dimensional bullshit, let the X-Men and the Avengers deal with the time-travel shit.
“Oh,” they say as tactfully as possible, pouring a couple bottles of water into a pot and setting it on the camp-stove. “So what’s brought you, uh, to the past?”
“I’m cleaning up other people’s mistakes,” he says archly. “That’s as much as you need to know.”
Silence swallows them for a while, Naia focusing on cooking the ramen and draining the chicken and making the meal as palatable as possible. They’re running out of supplies in this place, so they’ll have to stock up soon, but they figure, what the hell, and dump a can of mixed vegetables into the ramen as well. Kid looks like he could use the fuel.
The kid eats with Luce curled up in his lap, eating with that careful sort of control that says he wants to wolf it but feels that sort of display would make him look bad. Measured and obviously relishing every bite. It would be flattering if Naia wasn’t busy trying to think about how much the future must suck if instant ramen with some canned goods tossed in is that good to the kid.
When they do start talking, they don’t talk about much. He seems pleased when they tell him the cape is a nice touch, almost smiling as he sits up a little straighter.
“I find it important to make a visual statement,” he says. Naia raises their water bottle to that, and tactfully doesn’t make any comments about drapery. The kid looks at them where they’re leaning against the wall and frowns to himself, dragging his fork through the broth that remains in his bowl. “Why do you keep the cat here if this is not your home?”
Naia shrugs, pushing away from the wall and coming to take his bowl. “He was here first. I figure if he wanted to go to a different home he would. He didn’t like it when I tried taking him out of here, so I brought him back. I make sure he gets fed and he has his couch. Also possibly he likes to hang out with the ghost of whatever cat-hoarder used to live here. There were a lot of cats when I took this place over.”
“That sounds stupid. Ghosts don’t hang around to watch cats.” They laugh, and he goes on a very serious diatribe about superstition being the crutch of a weak mind. Naia wonders if 4Chan is still big in the future. Kid sounds like he’d fit in real well with those sort of pretentious ‘intellectuals’.
While they wash up the dishes and put everything away, making note that they’re going to need more water here next time they stock up, too, they pull up music on their phone and play it to fill the silence. The kid makes faces, but doesn’t complain.
It’s a little past noon when they try to get the kid to open up again about what he’s trying to do, and he very clearly doesn’t want any part of it.  
“I have the matter in hand,” he says heatedly, arms crossing again, until Luce makes a plaintive sound at the sudden loss of being pet. He scratches at the cat’s neck, glaring daggers at Naia. “I don’t need help.”
“Well, you sure weren’t doing super hot on your own when I found you.”
He scowls and they soften a little.
“C’mon. You’re new in town, and this is a big place. I’ve been in the city all my life, I know where everything is. I can at least point you in the right direction.”
They have a little staring contest for a moment, and it surprises Naia that he’s the one to look away first. “I have to do this on my own.”
“Fuck, gimme a break. You were talkin’ so smart a minute ago, don’t shove your head back up your ass, c’mon. More hands makes less work.”
He huffs, glaring at them again, mouth pressed in a tight line. “I am on my own to prove a point, I do not need help.”
“Everybody needs help, kid.”
“I’ve told you, my name is Stryfe! I demand you stop calling me kid!”
The mask does little to hide Naia’s grin at that. If the kid weren’t sitting down with a lap full of contented cat, they think he’d have actually stamped his little foot. “How old are you, kid? Thirteen going on three?”
“I am sixteen, I’m not some child.”
Naia gentles again at that, at least a little. It’s all right to tease, but he’s so vehement, it’s clear enough that this is somehow important. Probably something someone’s pushed the kid into thinking. “The future must really suck if sixteen is when you have to start being an adult.”
“The future makes sense.” He proclaims, and Naia doesn’t know whether to laugh or just shake their head. “Once I finish what I came here to do, the future will be perfect.”
Setting their head to one side, they watch him for a minute. He’s focused on Luce, stroking over the soft fur of the cat’s head.
“If you’d tell me what you’re trying to to do,” they offer, tone as gentle as the voice modulator will allow, “I would help you.”
He looks back at them, suspicious but almost hopeful too. “You wouldn’t. And I must do it myself. That’s the whole point.”
“I’ve already been helping you. Why would I stop now?”
“You’re not unknown in the future. You wouldn’t help me.”
It’s hard to argue with an evasive time-traveler, but that doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. As much as they want to help the kid, he sounds a little like a baby villain. All brooding secrets and deep hurts, ugly intentions. “You gonna kill someone?”
“I have to.” He says it flat, like it’s the obvious recourse any sixteen-year-old would come to. “He… they ruined everything. I’m going to take care of it.”
“You can’t just kill everyone who wrongs you, kid.”
His face screws up, angry, furious even. “Can’t I? That’s what you do, isn’t it? What makes Spider-man’s judgement better than mine?”
He says it like it’s a gotcha, and it’s a little surprising, how hard the words hit. Naia wants to say something about how they’re at least an adult, old enough to throw their life away crusading against actual murderous assholes. Not everyone who upset them, not even everyone who injured them. They’d had experience. This kid was just angry -- justifiably, maybe, but… he needed help. He needed patience, someone to help him unlearn this arrogant shit he used to wrap himself up and shield him from the ways he’d been hurt.
But then he smiles, sharp and cutting, and says, “Or should I just call you Naia?”
The way he pronounces their name, it sounds like a taunt, like the sound of it is something to mock. His expression does nothing to disguise the threat implied in his words.
Really, Naia’s a little sick of it. They’ve been playing nice all day despite the kid’s shitty attitude, and Naia was never a patient, kindly person. They’re not a parent, they’re not a big sibling, they’re not required to put up with this shit.
"Kid,” they say, looking down at him, scowling under the mask as they square their shoulders, “your name is Strife-with-a-Y and you ‘ported back from the oh-so-enlightened future with the manners of a four-year-old and the fashion sense to match, so just because you picked my name out of my brain, don't act like you're superior. You’re angry, and I can respect that, but you’ve done nothing to give me any reason to respect you. Bullies ain’t worth shit."
They expect anger. Yelling, maybe a punch thrown. The kid’s obviously practiced in hurting people with his TK, so maybe something like that.
Instead, the kid looks like Naia punched him. His eyes, normally narrowed and angry, are suddenly wide and open. He looks startled, like he’s grasping for his anger but so completely unused to being spoken to like that that he doesn’t know how to handle it. Naia tries to imagine that, imagine going sixteen years without anyone snapping you back in place when you were out of line, about being that secure in your right to treat anyone and everyone like shit, and finds they can’t quite do it.
“Less than a decade from now, you die a failure,” he hisses after a moment of that stunned shock. The viciousness of his tone is especially taut, the sort of tone used to mask pain with anger. He wants to lash back and hurt them. “You die ugly. Slow. And it doesn’t even matter.”
“Yeah?” Naia snaps back, nowhere near as mild as they’d like to be. “That supposed to make me, what? Stop? I might die as a loser, but I sure as shit don’t live like one.”
In a second, the kid is on his feet, Luce hitting the floor with a noise of feline offense and rushing off to the other end of the safe house. “I should kill you myself,” He says, hands balled into angry fists Naia knows he wouldn’t bother to use. He’d do for them with the TK to keep his hands clean.
“It make you feel better, threatening the only person you had on your side in this era?”
Their head bounces loudly off the wall. They hear something crack and hope to any god listening that it’s the drywall and not their skull. Collapsed on the floor, they have a hard time getting their eyes to focus through the mask, blackness lancing through their vision. They feel more than see Stryfe looming over them, and grin crookedly at him from where they sprawl.
“You’re not worth killing.” He says, savage. “Me killing you would honor you.”
They want to say something. They’re not even sure what; a dozen tones dance through their head, ways to play what just happened out to distinct, impactful ends. There’s a part of them that wants to push the kid to doing it, but they don’t know if he’s really still moral enough to get the satisfaction of his feeling bad about doing it. And thinking that makes them feel weirdly guilty. Guilty for doubting that a kid could be so devoid of humanity, for thinking he might be so far beyond help.
He makes a sharp noise at that, and they can feel it, when he finally withdraws from prying at their mind. His cape snaps at the air when he turns sharply away.
Really, a good hero would shake off the likely-concussion, get up, say something clever and thoughtful that would get him to stick around. They would try to stop him, try to save him.
Naia stays on the floor, eyes closed, and carefully shore up their telepathic shields. It’s easier to make them strong when you’re not focused on other things, like standing.
The kid’s boots click importantly against the tile, and when he shuts the front door behind him, it’s slammed sharply in place.
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