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achronologyofbits · 5 years ago

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GOTY 2019

I wanted to write a personal Game of the Year list, but I realized I really didn’t play that many games that were new in 2019. So I’m ranking them, but it’s less a “top 10” and more a “10 games I played and how I felt about them.”

10. Kingdom Hearts III

Kingdom Hearts III plays like a game from 2005.

I’m not sure I can fully articulate what I mean by that. Maybe I mean its combat is largely simplistic and button-mashy. Maybe I mean its rhythms of level traversal and cutscene exposition dumps are archaic and outdated. Maybe feeling like this game is a relic from another time is unavoidable, given how many years have passed since its first series entry.

But there’s also something joyful and celebratory about it all — something kind of refreshing about a work that knows only a tiny portion of its players will understand all its references and lore and world-building, and just doesn’t care.

Despite all the mockery and memery surrounding its fiction, Kingdom Hearts’ strongest storytelling moments are actually pretty simple. They’re about the struggle to exist, to belong, and to define what those things mean for yourself. I think that’s why the series reaches the people it does.

Those moments make Kingdom Hearts III worth defending, if not worth recommending.

9. Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

Admittedly, I only played about 10-15 hours of this in 2019. Perhaps fittingly, that’s about the amount of time I originally spent on Dark Souls when it released in 2011. I bounced off, hard, because I didn’t understand what it was asking of me. Once I did — though, it has to be said, I needed other people to explain those expectations to me, because the game sure as hell didn’t — Dark Souls became an all-time favorite. And I’ve played every FromSoft game since then, and enjoyed them all. Until Sekiro.

Part of it is, again, down to expectation. Dark Souls trained its players on a certain style of combat: cautious movements, careful attention to spacing, committing to weighty attacks, waiting for counterattacks. In every game since then, FromSoft have iterated on those expectations in the same direction in an attempt to encourage players to be less cautious and more aggressive. The series moved from tank-heavy play in Dark Souls, to dual-wielding in DS2, to weapon arts and reworking poise in DS3, to the system of regaining health by attacking in Bloodborne.

In some ways, Sekiro is a natural continuation of this trend toward aggression, but in others, it’s a complete U-turn. Bloodborne eschewed blocking and prioritized dodging as the quickest, most effective defensive option. Sekiro does exactly the opposite. Blocking is always your first choice, parrying is essential instead of largely optional, and dodging is near useless except in special cases. FromSoft spent five games teaching me my habits, and it was just too hard for me to break them for Sekiro.

I have other issues, too — health/damage upgrades are gated behind boss fights, so grinding is pointless; the setting and story lack some of the creativity of the game’s predecessors; there’s no variety of builds or playstyles — but the FromSoft magic is still there, too. Nothing can match the feeling of beating a Souls-series boss. And the addition of a grappling hook makes the verticality of Sekiro’s level design fascinating.

I dunno. I feel like there’s more here I’d enjoy, if I ever manage to push through the barriers. Maybe — as I finally did with the first Dark Souls, over a year after its release — someday I will.

8. Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order

In December, my wife and I traveled to Newport Beach for a family wedding, and we stayed an extra day to visit Disneyland. As an early birthday present, Aubrey bought me the experience of building a lightsaber in Galaxy’s Edge. And the experience is definitely what you’re paying for; the lightsaber itself is cool, but it’s cool because it’s made from parts I selected, with a blade color I chose, and I got to riff and banter with in-character park employees while doing it. (“Can you actually read those?” one asked me in an awed voice, when I selected a lightsaber hilt portion adorned with ancient Jedi runes. “Not yet,” I told her. “We’ll see if the Force can teach me.”)

Maybe it’s because I just had that experience, but by far my favorite moment in Jedi: Fallen Order is when main character Cal Kestis overcomes his own fears and memories to forge his own lightsaber, using a kyber crystal that calls to him personally. It’s maybe the only part of the game that made me feel like a Jedi, in a way the hours of Souls-inspired lightsaber slashing didn’t.

I think that’s telling. And I think it’s because so much of Fallen Order is derivative of other works, both in the current canon of gaming and of Star Wars. That’s not to say it’s bad — the mélange of Uncharted/Tomb Raider traversal, combat that evokes Souls and God of War, and vaguely Metroid-y power acquisition and exploration mostly works — but it’s just a titch less than the sum of those parts.

Similarly, as a Star Wars story, it feels under-baked. There’s potential in exploring the period immediately after Order 66 and the Jedi purge, but you only see glimpses of that. And I understand the difficulty of telling a story where the characters succeed but in a way that doesn’t affect established canon, but it still seemed like there were a couple of missed opportunities at touching base with the larger Star Wars universe. (And the one big reference that does pop up at the end feels forced and unrealistic.)

When I got home from California, I took my lightsaber apart just to see how it all worked. Outside of the hushed tones and glowing lights of Savi’s Workshop, it seems a little less special. It’s still really cool…but I sort of wish I had had a wider variety of parts to choose from. And that I had bought some of the other crystal colors. Just in case.

That’s how I feel about Jedi: Fallen Order. I had fun with it. But it’s easier now to see the parts for what they are.

7. Untitled Goose Game

Aubrey and I first saw this game at PAX, at a booth which charmingly recreated the garden of the game’s first level. We were instantly smitten, and as I’ve introduced it to family and friends, they’ve all had the same reaction. When we visited my brother’s family in Florida over the holidays, my eight-year-old niece and nephew peppered me with questions about some of the more complex puzzles. Even my father, whose gaming experience basically topped out at NES Open Tournament Golf in 1991, gave it a shot.

I’m not sure I have a lot more to say here, other than a few bullet points:

1) I love that Untitled Goose Game is completely nonviolent. It would’ve been easy to add a “peck” option as another gameplay verb, another means of mischief. (And, from what I understand, it would be entirely appropriate, given the aggression of actual geese.) That the developers resisted this is refreshing.

2) I’m glad a game this size can have such a wide reach, and that it doesn’t have to be a platform exclusive.

3) Honk.

6. Tetris 99

Despite the number of hours I’ve spent playing games, and the variety of genres that time has spanned, I’m not much for competitive gaming. This is partially because the competitive aspect of my personality has waned with age, and partially because I am extremely bad at most multiplayer games.

The one exception to this is Tetris.

I am a Tetris GOD.

Of course, that’s an incredible overstatement. Now that I’ve seen real Ecstasy of Order, Grandmaster-level Tetris players, I realize how mediocre I am. But in my real, actual life, I have never found anyone near my skill level. In high school, I would bring two Game Boys, two copies of Tetris, and a link cable on long bus rides to marching band competitions, hoping to find willing challengers. The Game Boys themselves became very popular. Playing me did not.

Prior to Tetris 99, the only version of the game that gave me any shred of humility in a competitive sense was Tetris DS, where Japanese players I found online routinely handed me my ass. I held my own, too, but that was the first time in my life when I wasn’t light-years beyond any opponent.

As time passed and internet gaming and culture became more accessible, I soon realized I was nowhere near the true best Tetris players in the world. Which was okay by me. I’m happy to be a big fish in a small pond, in pretty much all aspects of my life.

Tetris 99 has given me a perfectly sized pond. I feel like I’m a favorite to win every round I play, and I usually finish in the top 10 or higher. But it’s also always a challenge, because there’s just enough metagame to navigate. Have I targeted the right enemies? Do I have enough badges to make my Tetrises hit harder? Can I stay below the radar for long enough? These aspects go beyond and combine with the fundamental piece-dropping in a way I absolutely love.

The one thing I haven’t done yet is win an Invictus match (a mode reserved only for those who have won a standard 99-player match). But it’s only a matter of time.

5. Pokemon Sword/Shield

I don’t think I’ve played a Pokemon game through to completion since the originals. I always buy them, but I always seem to lose steam halfway through. But I finished Shield over the holidays, and I had a blast doing it.

Because I’m a mostly casual Pokeplayer, the decision to not include every ‘mon in series history didn’t bother me at all. I really enjoyed learning about new Pokemon and forcing myself to try moving away from my usual standards. (Although I did still use a Gyarados in my final team.)

As a fan of English soccer, the stadium-centric, British-flavored setting also contributed to my desire to see the game through. Changing into my uniform and walking onto a huge, grassy pitch, with tens of thousands of cheering fans looking on, really did give me a different feeling than battles in past games, which always seemed to be in weird, isolated settings.

I’m not sure I’ll push too far into the postgame; I’ve never felt the need to catch ‘em all. But I had a great time with the ones I caught.

4. The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening

I have a strange relationship with the Zelda series, especially now. They are my wife’s favorite games of all time. But I don’t know if I’ve ever actually sat down and beaten one since the original Link’s Awakening. Even with Breath of the Wild, which I adore, I was content to watch Aubrey do the heavy lifting. I know the series well, I’ve played bits of all of them, but most haven’t stuck with me.

Link’s Awakening has. I wrote a piece once about its existential storytelling and how it affected me as a child. I love the way the graphics in this remake preserve that dreamlike quality. It’s pretty much a re-skin of the original game, but the cutesy, toy-set aesthetic pairs well with the heavy material. If this is all a dream, whose dream is it? And when we wake up, what happens to it?

Truthfully, some of the puzzles and design decisions haven’t held up super well. Despite the fresh coat of paint, it definitely feels like a 25-year-old game. But I’m so glad this version exists.

Oh, and that solo clarinet in the Mabe Village theme? *Chef’s kiss*

3. Control

I actually haven’t seen a lot of the influences Control wears on its sleeve. I’ve never gone completely through all the episodes of the X-Files, Fringe, and Twin Peaks; I’m only vaguely familiar with the series of “creepypasta” fiction called SCP Foundation; and I have never endeavored to sit through a broadcast of Coast to Coast AM. I’m also unfamiliar with Remedy’s best-known work in the genre, Alan Wake. But I know enough about all those works to be able to identify their inspiration on the Federal Bureau of Control, Jesse Faden, and the Oldest House.

Control is an interesting game to recommend (which I do), because I’m not sure how much I really enjoyed its combat. For most of the game, it’s a pretty standard third-person shooter. You can’t snap to cover, which indicates you’re intended to stay on the move. This becomes even more obvious when you gain the ability to air dash and fly. But you do need to use cover, because Jesse doesn’t have much health even at the end of the game. So combat encounters can get out of hand quickly, and there’s little incentive to keep fighting enemies in the late game. Yet they respawn at a frustratingly frequent rate. The game’s checkpointing system compounds this — you only respawn at “control points,” which act like Souls-style bonfires. This leads to some unfortunately tedious runbacks after boss fights.

On the other hand, Jesse’s telekinesis power always feels fantastic, and varying your attacks between gunshots, thrown objects, melee, and mind controlling enemies can be frenetic fun. That all comes to a head in the game’s combat (and perhaps aesthetic?) high point, the Ashtray Maze. To say more would be doing a disservice. It’s awesome.

The rest of the gameplay is awesome, too — and I do call it “gameplay,” though unfortunately you don’t have many options for affecting the world beyond violence. The act of exploring the Oldest House and scouring it for bureaucratic case files, audio recordings, and those unbelievably creepy “Threshold Kids” videos is pure joy. The way the case files are redacted leaves just enough to the imagination, and the idea of a federal facility being built on top of and absorbed into a sort of nexus of interdimensional weirdness is perfectly executed. And what’s up with that motel? And the alien, all-seeing, vaguely sinister Board? So cool.

With such great worldbuilding, I did wish for a little more player agency. There are no real dialogue choices — no way to imbue Jesse with any character traits beyond what’s pre-written for her — and only one ending. This kind of unchecked weird science is the perfect environment for forcing the player into difficult decisions (what do we study? How far is too far? How do we keep it all secret?), and that just isn’t part of the game at all. Which is fine — Control isn’t quite an immersive sim like Prey, and it’s not trying to be. I just see some similarities and potential, and I wish they had been explored a little.

But Control’s still a fantastic experience, and in any other year, it probably would’ve been my number one pick. That’s how good these next two games are.

2. Outer Wilds

Honestly, this is the best game of 2019. But I’m not listing it as number one because I didn’t play most of it — Aubrey did. Usually we play everything together; even if we’re not passing a controller back and forth, one of us will watch while the other one plays. And that definitely happened for a large chunk of Outer Wilds. But Aubrey did make some key discoveries while I was otherwise occupied, so while I think it’s probably the best game, it’s not the one I personally spent the most time with.

The time I did spend, though? Wow. From the moment you wake up at the campfire and set off in search of your spaceship launch codes, it’s clear that this is a game that revels in discovery. Discovery for its own sake, for the furthering of knowledge, for the protection of others, for the sheer fun of it. Some games actively discourage players from asking the question, “Hey, what’s that over there?” Outer Wilds begs you to ask it, and then rewards you not with treasure or statistical growth, but with the opportunity to ask again, about something even more wondrous and significant.

There are so many memorable moments of discovery in this game. The discovery that, hey, does that sun look redder to you than it used to? The discovery that, whoa, why did I wake up where I started after seemingly dying in space? Your first trip through a black hole. Your first trip to the quantum moon. Your first trip to the weird, bigger-on-the-inside fog-filled heart of a certain dark, brambly place. (Aubrey won’t forget that any time soon.)

They take effort, those moments. They do have to be earned, and it isn’t easy. Your spaceship flies like it looks: sketchy, taped together, powered by ingenuity and, like, marshmallows, probably. Some of the leaps you have to make — both of intuition and of jetpack — are a little too far. (We weren’t too proud to look up a couple hints when we were truly stuck.) But in the tradition of the best adventure games (which is what this is, at heart), you have everything you need right from the beginning. All you have to do is gather the knowledge to understand it and put it into action.

And beyond those moments of logical and graphical discovery, there’s real emotion and pathos, too. As you explore the remnants of the lost civilization that preceded yours, your only method of communication is reading their writing. And as you do, you start to get a picture of them not just as individuals (who fight, flirt, and work together to help each other), but as a species whose boundless thirst for discovery was their greatest asset, highest priority, undoing, and salvation, all at once.

I don’t think I can say much more without delving into spoilers, or retreading ground others have covered. (Go read Austin Walker’s beautiful and insightful review for more.) It’s an incredible game, and one everyone with even a passing interest in the medium should try.

(Last thing: Yes, I manually flew to the Sun Station and got inside. No, I don’t recommend it.)

1. Fire Emblem: Three Houses

If I hadn’t just started a replay of this game, I don’t think I’d be listing it in the number one slot. I started a replay because I showed it to my brother when we visited him in Florida last month, and immediately, all the old feelings came flooding back. I needed another hit.

No game this year has been as compelling for me. That’s an overused word in entertainment criticism, but I mean it literally: There have been nights where I absolutely HAVE to keep playing (much to Aubrey’s dismay). One more week of in-game time. One more study session to raise a skill rank. One more meal together so I can recruit another student. One more battle. Just a little longer.

I’m not sure I can put my finger on the source of that compulsion. Part of it is the excellence of craftsmanship on display; if any technical or creative aspect of Three Houses was less polished than it is, I probably wouldn’t feel so drawn to it. But the two big answers, I think, are the characters and their growth, both mechanically and narratively.

At the start of the game, you pick one of the titular three houses to oversee as professor. While this choice defines who you’ll have in your starting party, that can be mitigated later, as almost every other student from the other two houses can be recruited to join yours. What you’re really choosing is which perspective you’ll see the events of the story from, and through whose eyes: Edelgard of the Black Eagles, Dimitri of the Blue Lions, or Claude of the Golden Deer. (This is also why the game almost demands at least three playthroughs.)

These three narratives are deftly written so you simultaneously feel like you made the only possible canonical choice, while also sowing questions into your decision-making. Edelgard’s furious desire for change is just but perhaps not justifiable; Dimitri hides an obsession with revenge behind a façade of noblesse oblige; Claude is more conniving and pragmatic than he lets on. No matter who you side with, you’ll eventually have to face the others. And everyone can make a case that they, not you, are on the right side.

This is especially effective because almost every character in Three Houses is dealing with a legacy of war and violence. A big theme of the game’s story is how those experiences inform and influence the actions of the victims. What steps are justified to counteract such suffering? How do you break the cycle if you can’t break the power structures that perpetuate it? How do good people end up fighting for bad causes?

While you and your child soldiers (yeah, you do kind of have to just skip over that part; they’re in their late teens, at least? Still not good enough, but could be worse?) are grappling with these questions, they’re also growing in combat strength, at your direction. This is the part that really grabbed me and my lizard brain — watching those numbers get bigger was unbelievably gratifying. Each character class has certain skill requirement prerequisites, and as professor, you get to define how your students meet those requirements, and which they focus on. Each student has certain innate skills, but they also have hidden interests that only come to the surface with guidance. A character who seems a shoo-in to serve as a white mage might secretly make an incredibly effective knight; someone who seems destined for a life as a swordsman suddenly shows a talent for black magic. You can lean into their predilections, or go against them, with almost equal efficacy.

For me, this was the best part of Three Houses, and the part that kept me up long after my wife had gone to bed. Planning a student’s final battle role takes far-seeing planning and preparation, and each step along the way felt thrilling. How can you not forge a connection with characters you’ve taken such pains to help along the way? How can you not explode with joy when they reach their goals?

That’s the real draw of Fire Emblem: Three Houses, I think: the joy of seeing people you care about grow, while simultaneously confronting those you once cared about, but who followed another path. No wonder I wanted to start another playthrough. I think I’ll be starting them all over again for a long time.

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savegraduation · 5 years ago

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“But being a minor is only temporary!”

On the old Fourth Turning forum one day, a teacher who called herself TeacherOfMillies ("Millie" being a diminutive of "Millennial" popular on the board) started a thread in which she wrote about telling her son that he needs to "respect adults". Adina, a Millennial on the board, accused her of ageism. TeacherofMillies' response was:

Adina: Recognizing that minors have different capacities from adults and therefore do not deserve the same rights cannot be put in the same category as racism or sexism. A minority group is a group (such as sex, race or religion) whose membership is normally permanent. People who are born black stay black for life. Adolescence is not permanent. There is no discrimination here.

Then there was the old Pagan message board at AOL, where Brocéliande, a Joneser Wiccan with a 12-year-old son, told me that teens were not a minority group, because a minority group was by definition permanent, with the implied reasoning that discrimination on the basis of age was therefore acceptable.

It happens again and again when youth rights is brought up. Someone will bring up the -isms: sexism, racism, classism, ableism, and by extension, ageism. Someone will then bring up Murray and Herrnstein's The Bell Curve or other ostensibly scientific claims that some demographic groups are statistically more likely than others to be wise or have a higher IQ. Someone might say, "Statistics show that Asians are, on the average, worse drivers", or "Simon Baron-Cohen showed that men are better than women at systemizing tasks and women are better than men at empathizing tasks", or even, turning the tables, "Statistically, women are less likely than men to start wars; does this mean we should deny all men the right to positions of world leaders, even the gentler men, so the world will be safe from the risk of blowing ourselves up?" And then she or he will ask, "If it's not right to deny freedoms to deserving ethnic minorities, or deserving women, or deserving men, just because a large number of other people in their demographic aren't qualified -- it would be discrimination -- why is it OK to deny a mature 17-year-old the right to vote or drink just because some other people her/his age are immature?" And then some defender of the anti-YR position will fumble to defend it by arguing, "Being a minor is only temporary, so age is different from race, gender, or religion!"

Before I go any further into rebutting this argument, let's play this on an honest ground with our terms here. I prefer the term "demographic group" to "minority group". A group does not have to be a minority group to be discriminated against. Males are not a minority group, and the draft discriminates against males. Blacks are not a minority group in South Africa, where only 10% of the population is White, and apartheid discriminated against the Black majority. But males and Black South Africans are demographic groups, and prejudicial treatment against them is discrimination. Discrimination simply means treating someone wrongly differently because of her or his demographic group. And no one can argue with the fact that teens are a demographic group (as are seniors, for what it's worth!) When you say "minority group", you're really saying "demographic group that has traditionally been at a social disadvantage in the society/civilization in question" (in this case, the United States, or the West). So it's not "minority group", but "demographic group" that's the relevant concept here.

The first problem with this argument is that the impermanence of being a minor ("An American who was born Black could never wake up one day and be White all of a sudden!"), while making this different from other forms of discrimination, is not really relevant to the issue of whether discrimination is justified. One can pull up interesting differences when comparing two things, but just because those differences exist, it does not necessarily follow that said differences are relevant to right and wrong. For example, one might argue that in England, committing murder with a knife is different from committing murder with a gun because knives are legal to own in England, just not to use for murder, whereas guns are outright illegal to so much as possess. While this as a fact in and of itself is true, is this difference in any way germane to whether an Englishman killing someone with a knife is morally acceptable, or whether it should be legal to murder someone with a knife in England? Exactly how does the temporariness of membership in a group make discrimination defensible? I don't think that if that person became White one day and was finally allowed to vote because of it in the pre-1860's world, he or she would forgive and forget all the needless discrimination in the past!

Secondly, being mistreated during one's teen-age years will stay with a person for life. Your world does not become a clean slate again once you reach the legal age to do something; rather, the pain of discrimination from the past carries on.

A butterfly that flaps its wings when you are 13 will still have the ripple effect going when you are 40. For example, if 15-year-old Rachel's parents restrict her from taking the courses that competitive colleges like by refusing to sign her course selection form until it is whittled down to the dumbed-down classes that satisfy their anti-intellectualism, Rachel will have a very hard time getting into the colleges she wants by the time she's applying for colleges her senior year. As an adult, her opportunities will be limited against her will because of the choices her parents made for her against her will as a teen-ager.

In 2016, a 16-year-old boy named Gary Ruot was diagnosed with Leber hereditary optic neuropathy (LHON), an ocular disease that causes rapid degeneration and ultimately leads to blindness. The only hope for Ruot was a treatment called gene therapy, for which GenSight Biologics was running a trial for the treatment of LHON. However, the FDA had only approved the gene therapy LHON trial for patients over 18. By the time Ruot would turn 18, it would be too late, and he would be blind. Ruot's relative, Avery Wilson, posted a petition on Change.org, demanding the FDA lower the age for this trial to 16. Less than three months later, the FDA did the right thing and lowered the age for the trial, and Gary Ruot was saved. But what if the FDA had not reduced the age to 16? By the time Ruot was 18, he would be blind, and it would be too late for the gene therapy to save him. He could turn 21, 25, 30, 50, 75, and 100, and he would still be blind.

And what if your parents take you to get a circumcision before you are old enough to legally say no to an operation? Your foreskin isn't going to magically grow back once you reach the age of medical consent (which, in the U.S. varies depending on your jurisdiction, from 15 in Oregon to 19 in Alabama). Judging by the arguments ageists use against 12-year-old boys being allowed to say no to circumcision, you’d think they were convinced a boy’s foreskin will magically regenerate on his eighteenth birthday! Similarly, we're now hearing news stories about teens who live in states where under18s may not get vaccinated without their parents' permission researching vaccination on the Internet and often driving (or, if under 16, being driven by a friend) into states where minors do not need parental permission to be vaccinated. If some teen's Christian Scientist parents say no to a vaccination, and then s/he is exposed to the bacterium Bordetella pertussis or the rubella virus at 16, and catches pertussis or rubella, the teen will most likely die before her/his eighteenth birthday of a preventable disease -- are you seriously then going to defend this with the "But being a minor is only temporary!" argument?

The emotional enscarment that comes from being hurt by age-discriminatory laws will also last for the rest of one's life. If someone goes through a gulag school where he is subject to waterboarding, electroshock therapy, straitjacketing, and sensory deprivation, he may eventually be out of it as an adult, but by then the damage will be done. He will suffer the trauma for the rest of his life. Survivors of conversion therapy may be past conversion therapy, but by now they're 8.9 times as likely as their peers to consider suicide. Since I was 6, I suffered from a mental disorder called logaesthesia, where I taste words and have the sensations of swallowing them. The words I don't like I have to "purge" out by scraping my nails against my groin and then "vomiting" them up by carrying my nails over my abdomen, chest and throat. All the "socialization" I received in high school, all the being forced to do things, all the fascist comments that my behavior was "inappropriate" or "socially unacceptable", haunt me to this very day. I'm 39 now. Every day I still think back weekly to run-ins with authoritarian teachers that happened during my school years over both logaesthesia and other conflicts that came up. I have flashbacks, I bite myself, I slam my fist against my head, and punch my abdomen as if slicing open a watermelon, I yell. If I had only been given the chance to stop going to school, to live away from my parents, to move to Berkeley, I may have been able to get away from it before too much damage was done.

People who have been arrested under status laws may feel the effects of the arrest for the rest of their lives. Many employers would not hire a 30-year-old if they dug in his records and found he had been arrested for underage drinking at age 19. In California, where Proposition 21 eliminated the automatic sealment of one's juvenile record upon reaching 18, a conviction for breaking a city's curfew law at age 15 could put off potential employers. And the social stigma will attach to the arrested ex-minor from many people who know, firsthand or secondhand, about the arrest.

And what if you die during your teens? Then your adolescence will indeed become permanent. If you die before age 18, you will never have the chance to vote for or against a president. If you abided by the law stating no one is to drink alcohol until his or her twenty-first birthday, then you got drafted and went to war rather than dodging the draft, and got killed in war at the age of 20, you would die without ever having the chance to try alcohol. You think a belated "sorry" is going to make that OK?

The choices adults make for minors may even last beyond their terrene life and carry beyond the grave. For example, a recently deceased 17-year-old may have his organs harvested for donation against his consent. Or imagine that Blebdahism is the one true religion, that God is a Blebdahist and believes anyone who betrays Blebdahism is sentenced to Hell. But one young person who believes in Blebdahism deep down in his heart may have parents who are Sporgalists. In the United States, the parents may, by law, force their child to practice Sporgalism even though it is wrong, which would thereby condemn not only the parents, but also their child, to Hell for refusing to practice the rituals of Blebdahism. Since no one knows God's exact sentiments, one could not promise children that God would understand if they betrayed their religion only because they were forced; it could very well be that God thinks conforming to parental force is no excuse for not following Blebdahism, even for part of one's life, and still refuses to let those youth into Heaven, regardless. Of course, it may very well be that God understands people who betray their religion because of coercion by authority, that several religious paths lead to "Heaven", or even that Heaven does not really exist . . . but what if those aren't the case? Or suppose, arguendo, that God does let people into Heaven who practiced Sporgalism as minors but converted to Blebdahism as adults, but not people who were still practicing Sporgalism when they died. What if the child of Sporgalist parents who wants to practice Blebdahism gets hit by a truck at age 15? She'll never get another chance at practicing Blebdahism, and will be stuck spending an eternity in Hell. And the Blebdahist child of Sporgalist parents will probably be buried, in accordance with her parents' wishes, in a Sporgalist cemetery, where her body will lie forever . . . and ever . . . and ever.

Thirdly, lost time is never found again. Everyone only has a finite time to live -- at least until human life extension technology is invented, and we don't know how soon that will be. If the first 18 years of a 90-year life are spent in chains, that's one whole fifth of your life -- lost forever. Say a girl named Danielle wants to wear dreadlocks starting at the time she begins high school in September of 2016, at the age of 14 years and 6 months, but her school clamps down and forbids her to wear dreadlocks because they are against the dress code. Danielle graduates in June of 2020 at the age of 18 years and 3 months. She is then free to wear dreadlocks, until she dies the day after her eightieth birthday. She got 61 years and 9 months to wear her dreadlocks, but if her high school hadn't disallowed them it would have been 65 years and 6 months of her life. God is not going to magically add 3 years and 9 months to her life, allowing her to live to 83.75, to make up for the years she could have spent dreadlocked but was wrongly denied the right to.

An election only comes once. A person born in 1980 would not get to vote until 1998, and the thousands of decisions voted on in 1996 and 1997 did not have that person's say. He may get to vote on 1998 propositions or in the 2000, 2004, 2008, 2012, 2016, and 2020 elections, but it is already too late for him to vote in the Clinton-Dole election of 1996, which is lost forever in the annals of history. For any of the bad decisions of voters leading up to the current day, there’s a possibility it could have been avoided being passed had more young people, those who were 16 and 17, been allowed to vote.

Fourthly, ethnicity is the platonic prototype of a demographic variable and racism of discrimination, and every other demographic variable about humans has something about it that makes it different from race and unique from other demographic variables.

Take gender and sexism, for instance. Gender is a universally recognized trait; the gender someone is assigned at birth would be the same across the world in more than 99% of cases. Someone's race may be labeled as Mulatto or Mestizo or Black in Cuba but Hispanic in the United States. In one society, having sex with another person of your gender automatically makes you gay, whereas in another society, it is viewed as natural to experiment even if you are straight, and a third society may have no concept of "sexual orientation” whatsoever. The legal ages for things differ from country to country. Someone with epilepsy is viewed as disabled in modern countries but as having special, supernatural powers in the Hmong culture, and what is seen as ADD in the context on one culture is "normal" in a traditional nomadic culture. But everywhere around the world, someone with a penis and testicles is assigned male at birth and someone with a vagina and ovaries is assigned female at birth. (Defining someone by their karyotype -- XX vs. XY vs. various trisomies and polysomies like Klinefelter's syndrome -- is a twentieth and twenty-first century development, and even then, fewer than 1% of births are ambiguous or "intersex" when external genitalia, gonads, and chromosomes are taken into account.) Some people turn out trans, and there are some special gender categories, such as the berdaches/Two-spirit people in Native American cultures or the Thai kathoey, or ladyboys, in some cultures, but even then the person's biological sex is still acknowledged. Even in the relatively trans-friendly United States, the Selective Service system still has laws on the books requiring transfemales to register but denying transmales registry, because gender assigned at birth is so hardwired into the law. In 2002, in the case of In re Estate of Gardiner, the Kansas Supreme Court ruled that a man and a transwoman could not marry, because the transwoman was male before the law and Kansas did not recognize same-sex marriages at the time.

Religion and religious discrimination are unique because unlike other demographic variables, people choose their religion. No one chooses to be male, or Chinese, or gay, or 23 years old, or disabled (unless they deliberately stab their eyes out or jump off a height to make themselves paraplegic). But people have control over what religion they practice, and this makes religion different.

Sexual orientation and homophobia are different because sexual orientation revolves around certain behaviors, and behaviors that certain factions and individuals believe are immoral at that. No one gets arrested for the mere condition of being African-American, or female, or teen-age. No one believes that blind people will burn in Hell. But many nations still have sodomy laws on the books making gay sex illegal (this included several U.S. states as late as 2003). Many churches teach that LGBT people will burn in Hell after they die. There are no controversial behaviors that are defining of Blackness, or defining of womanhood, or defining of adolescence. But sexual orientation is about what someone does just as much as what she or he is.

Disability and ableism are different because a disability can render someone by definition unable to do something. An example would be paraplegics being unable to do work that requires you to walk on feet. Men are generally stronger than women, but there are amazonian women and plenty of weak men. Stating that 20-year-olds are too immature to drink but 21-year-olds are mature enough to drink is a loose generalization. Some psychologists, most notably the White Charles Murray and the Jewish Richard J. Herrnstein, in The Bell Curve, make claims that average IQ of African-Americans is lower than that of Whites, which is in turn lower than the average IQ of Asians. There are disputes as to whether these statistics come from culturally biased IQ tests written by upper-middle-class White males, and many people believe there is no difference in intelligence among ethnic groups at all. Others believe that different ethnic groups and different genders have different tendencies towards strengths and weaknesses, such as Dr. Simon Baron-Cohen's theory of female empathizing and male systemizing. Whether the Bell Curve statistics are legitimate or not, though, no one can deny you find bright people and dim people -- even a few autistic savants with extremely lopsided abilities -- in all racial/ethnic groups. But blind people driving? This form of discrimination based on disability is recognized as "bona fide discrimination", and actually is legal in certain cases in many jurisdictions across the world. On the other hand, forbidding an epileptic to become a lawyer or refusing to let someone with cerebral palsy into your cake shop would most certainly not be bona fide discrimination, and pointing out this way disability is different from other demographic variables would not be an acceptable argument.

Socioeconomic class and classism are different because class is mutable (yes, possibly temporary!) in some societies but not in others. If you live in present-day Nashville or Los Angeles, you can rise to the top echelons just by being a great singer or actor. If you lived in Edwardian England, on the other hand, being a prole pretty much meant you were stuck being a prole, all your lower-class ways and mannerisms hard-wired into your identity. Rising in social class was very difficult.

Every rights movement has its own hurdles to overcome, and people who shout, "But this is different!" cause every rights movement to have to start at square one. A good example is Martin Luther King's niece, Alveda King, who fights against the gay rights movement and argues that homosexuality flies in the face of "family values" and therefore cannot be compared to the Civil Rights movement. Youth rights, like women's rights, LGBT rights, disability rights, and civil rights for ethnic and religious minorities, are human rights, and human rights supporters today don't say that being free from anti-Islamic discrimination isn't a human right because people choose their religion, or that being free from sexism isn't a human right because sex is a biological reality instead of just a social construct.

Finally, the transience of temporary pain or damage has never excused hurting people. As someone on the forum for National Youth Rights Association (NYRA) once wrote about people you argue that discrimination against teens is acceptable because minority is temporary: "Someone should give them a hard punch in the face. After all, it will only hurt for a little while". Damage can be temporary (even though damage caused by ageism is NOT always temporary), such as the 7-year-old who gives his baby sister a bad haircut, knowing it will grow back. But, as Martin Luther King famously stated in 1963 in his Letter from Birmingham Jail, "Justice too long delayed is justice denied". Perhaps no infliction of suffering should be illegal because life itself is only temporary, and therefore all of a person's suffering will one day come to an end?

"But!", you say, "What about the definition? You can't deny that a minority group is a permanent group, like female, or Chinese, or lower-class, or Hindu, and therefore teens are not a minority group!"

Putting aside the "minority group" vs. "demographic group" issue, the problem is this: what you've got here is an ad hoc definition. It's what logicians call the definist fallacy. Let's look at the definition of "minority" (definition 3a) in Merriam Webster's Webster's Unabridged: "A part of a population differing from others in some characteristics and often subjected to differential treatment". No mention of the membership in that group being permanent. Next, Wiktionary defines "minority group" as: "A group that forms only a small part of the population, whether it be for ethnic or other reasons". Still no mention of being permanent. Finally, for something different, let's look at the Collins COBUILD dictionary's definition (definition 2): "A minority is a group of people of the same race, culture, or religion who live in a place where most of the people around them are of a different race, culture, or religion". This excludes age, but this definition is so narrow that it also excludes such undisputed minorities as lesbians, transgender people, and the blind! Does that mean the U.S. government should feel free to round up gay people or people with bipolar disorder, since they're not protected by the definition of "minority group"?

As a matter of fact, some published, professional authors have referred to youth as a minority group. In 1971, Edward Sagarin edited a book titled The Other Minorities, which consisted of essays concerning the minority status of non-ethnic minorities: there are essays on women, gays, teens, the elderly, the disabled, criminals, and even intellectuals as minority groups. From pages 95 to 107 is Edgar Z. Friedenberg's essay "The Image of the Adolescent Minority". In it, Friedenberg writes: "In the most formal sense, then, the adolescent is one of our second-class citizens. But the informal aspects of minority status are also imputed to him. The 'teen-ager', like the Latin or Negro, is seen as joyous, playful, lazy, and irresponsible, with brutality lurking just below the surface and ready to break out into violence. All these groups are seen as childish and excitable, imprudent and improvident, sexually aggressive, and dangerous, but possessed of superb and sustained power to satisfy sexual demands. West Side Story is not much like Romeo and Juliet, but it is a great deal like Porgy and Bess." Friedenberg recognizes how facile stereotypes of teen-agers are about as respectful as the old "minstrel show" stereotype of African-Americans.

"But!", you object, "I'm just saying teens aren't a minority group!" Then if the question of whether teens are a minority group isn’t relevant to whether anti-youth discrimination is acceptable (and it isn't, given all the other problems with the "temporariness" argument), then why are you even bringing it up?

Teens are a (very often) oppressed demographic group. Discrimination against teens is still discrimination. The fact that unless you die before your twenty-first birthday you will not be underage forever does not justify your parents dictating what high school courses you will take, or you being denied the rights to medical consent, or you getting arrested for breaking curfew or underage drinking, or you being denied the vote at 16. So please don't use this argument.

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kaiser-king · 6 years ago

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Hazbin Hotel fanfic chapter 2: Making enemies

Here's chapter 2 of the fanfic. Hope you all enjoy it. Once again Spades belongs to @lolalovestruck

It had been about a month since i found myself down in Hell and joined an arms smuggling ring. It was a pretty nice job to land so quickly and it let me get good knowledge of the pentagram's layout. It was basically like a large scale city, just with much higher crime rates than the average.

Along with the new job, Spades, who i had taken to affectionately calling boss, supplied me with new amenities. A proper cell phone in case we needed to contact each other and a good, if a bit scratched up, 1911 pistol. I sat on my bed that whole night watching videos on how to take apart and put together weapons until i could dismantle and reassemble the piece without any difficulty. I also ended up making a machete out of a random chunk of metal and a busted wooden baseball handle simply out of habit.

Work was also pretty easy. It was no different than when i was alive, just instead of peddling drugs it was weapons noe. Any given day I'd deliver a box of revolvers or a gym bag full of Kalashnikovs to anyone with the money to order it, and since i still had some of my old skill with parkour from my life, it wasn't too hard to get back used to the regimen sith how often i made deliveries. I often enjoyed an off hand compliment from spades when she'd bring up how nicely business had been picking up since my arrival, not that they were having trouble, she was happy to see even bigger numbers of deliveries and cash flow. It also helped to keep me focused. It scared me to think i could've been just another bottomfeeder, left behind and struggling in some alley as i fought for food everyday. Now though, i live comfortably with a good job. And it was obvious i was the favorite, so there was no worry that I'd ever be turned on.

Lost in my own musings, i almost missed a phone call from Spades herself. A picture of her sitting at her desk sipping from a mug of coffee as her eyes glanced in my direction. I had taken the picture on a whim, but she liked it so much she went ahead and set it as her new icon for me. I slid my thumb across the phone and answered. "H-hey Boss, need a delivery taken care of?"

Her voice came just a bit staticy before clearing up. "Yes actually, it's one of our regulars. They want some heavier firepower." I could hear her tapping on the keyboard as she checked the info. "Can you deliver a few anti-personel smaws to our regular dead drop on the southside of the pentagram? I hate to dump more work on you but i know you're someone who can get such an important job done."

"Of course boss! You can count on your number 1!" I never liked to disappoint, and having Spades trust me with something that seemed quite important, i was on the rooftops with a gym bag full of rocket launchers in no time. Funnily enough, my apartment was on the way there so i decided to drop by for a mid trip snack. A couple cans of soda and a bite of jerky only took a second to grab, but of course there just had to be a knock at the door. A glance at my watch tpld me i was making good time, so i decided to answer, maybe make a friend who wasn't from work.

I wasn't quite prepared for what i was about to see though, as i opened the door to be met by a tall woman who's neck seemed oddly bent. Her skin quite pale as a head of teeth freshly coated in a crimson shade grinned at me. She was wearing an old rock band shirt that was probably from before i was even alive and a pair of grunge pants. Her voice was a bit rough, like used sandpaper and i couldn't quite place her accent. "Hey neighbor... i uhh, don't do this much but i notice you're either here all day or gone somewhere and i never catch you headed in or out. Would you.. like to hang out for a bit?" She brushed a bit of dark brown hair behind her ear. It was quite obvious she seemed to be the type to keep to herself more often, i decided against my better judgement since i had a good 10 minutes.

I was lead to her room with walls plastered with vintage rock bands and more old school types from well before i could grasp what music was. She just plopped onto her bed and cracked open her own drink. "My name's Tore by the way. I'm a hungry ghost, it's basically a cannibal spirit i guess?" She chuckled a bit as she took a sip, washing the gore from her teeth as she swallowed. "You won't believe my luck today, i found a dead guy with a broken bottle shoved in his face. He was a bit scrawny but tough meat is tasty."

As she talked about my first victim, my hand instinctively covered my eye, which was still intact thankfully, but now sported a scar of three claw marks. Of course it was now hidden under the scrap of cloth i used as a kind of mask, but i could still feel the pain every once in a while, like when you get a lump in your jaw, painful for a bit but easy to forget about afterward. We spent what little time i could spare talming about innocuous everyday things, the way all awkward first meetings go. While she was nice enough, something about her spooked me as she came closer and sniffed my neck. "You smell tasty at least. Everyone else smells like some form of garbage, but you..." she took a deep inhale of my neck. "You smell pleasent."

She didn't notice my reaction thankfully, and the beep of my watch indicated my time was up. "Well, this was quite nice tore, but i have a job to do. I'll catch you later ok?" While she seemed nice enough, i just couldn't stay any longer, and the strangeness of her deep inhale of my scent was rather offputting as i pulled the bag over my shoulder and made my way out the door. Before i left though i was nice enough to leave my number. Maybe she was just one of the weird kids, after all i was pretty strange myself, but it ultimately was the last thing on my mind as i continued with the delivery.

The southside of the Pentagram was one of the more violent areas in Hell. Due to a previous purge that happened before i ended up here, there was a huge turf war going on between a few of the bigger players. Thankfully, as an arms dealer we had no qualms about who owned the place, i just made the deliveries.

The dead drop was a hole in the wall bar called Devil's Drink which specialized in cheaper alcohol and bottomfeeder patrons, but we got plenty of cash using it as a dead drop so Spades had no real qualms with using it.

Something that worried me though, was the fact that a hydra was staring me down with all 10 of his heads. Not a single one took their eyes off me for even a second as I waited for the next 5 minutes and ordered a drink, just as i had been taught to do when dead dropping in any public place. A couple Blue Hawaiians later, 15 minutes had passed, so i stood up and left the delivery underneath the table closest to the bar as was standard. When i had made it to the alley way though, a gruff voice startled me.

"Oi, Rat boy! I got somethin to say to you!" Startled, i turned to see the hydra glaring at me as he followed me out of the bar. Now that i could see him better it was obvious he was well muscled and broad chested, with a military bearing and a look that threatened death. Of course my fight or flight senses kicked in, and i knew this gut would be too much to handle on my own so i ran as fast as i could.

Of course this prompted the hydra to give chase as i turned down different alley ways and back streets to try and escape, but he managed to keep up quite well, never being more than five steps behind me until i ended up cornering myself in a dead end. I turned to face the man who had chased me so far from the bar as each of his heads held a grimace on their face.

"You're pretty quick, but you don't have the stamina or the knowledge to escape me." He grabbed me by the shirt collar and lifted me up against the wall. "I know you're supplying my enemies with weaponry! Tell me who your boss is and we can make this go by so much easier."

"I don't know what you mean, i just deliver the weapons, i don't choose who gets them. If you're in the market for them I'd be happy to direct you to the proper channels." I shuddered in his grip as I feared for my life. It had only been a month and I'd never ran into anyone as scary as this so far.

A wicked grin spread his lips apart revealing his own sharp teeth. "I don't want your weapons. I want you out of business. So tell me who your boss is so i can take care of him. And put you out of a job."

For some reason the first thought in my head was why does everyone have sharp teeth. The second was that i would never betray Spades' trust like that, so i bit his arm, making him drop me as i pulled out my haphazard machete to defend myself. "I'm not gonna give you anything you limp neck dick head!" I wanted to push my advantage and lunge for my foe as he held his bleeding arm, but he was too quick and backhanded me against the wall with his good one. The impact wasn't bone breaking, but i felt all the wind leave my lungs as i hit the wall and then the ground. Left gasping for air, i could only look up to see a bit connect to my face and cause my vision to go blurry as i felt more pain from my ribs as he stomped me into the ground again and again as i struggled to defend myself. A few minutes seemed like hours before he finally stopped and delivered another swift kick to my face.

"Pitiful rat, take that back to your boss. Let him know who he's messing with when he gives weapons to the losing side. Remember the name Kiln when you make another run like this." The hydra, Kiln, laughed as he walked off, leaving me broken in the alleyway.

It took a while, but i managed to pull myself onto my feet, and struggle back to base to report in. Despite the complications, the job was done, and i had to report that to her. So i shambled my way back, machete in hand as i paid no attention to anyone i passed, until i finally made it back. I struggled to slide the keycard as my hands wouldn't stop shaking from the pain i was in. The door opened and i shambled inside, headed straight to Spades' office.

With a knock at the door i could hear her voice had a certain chirp to it when she answered. "Come in! I hope to hear some good news Vik..."

Her chirpy grin immediately dropped when she saw the state I was in. Without a word she stepped up to me and took my chin in her hands. A thumb dragged across my mouth to wipe away the blood, even though more was flowing from my reopened eye scar. Despite her expressionless face, her eyes seemed to stare at me with an acute intensity that even Hell's fire couldn't match. She pulled my face closer and stared into my eyes, and what she said next caused me to shudder as her words were dripping with venom abd unrestrained rage.

"Viktor, who did this to you?"

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scintillating-galaxias · 5 years ago

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give ‘em hell, darling

Chapter Five—Step 3.1

Aziraphale begins his attempts to teach fifty angels about Earth.

(read it here on ao3!)

Aziraphale’s Crash Course to Earth was off to a very rough start.

After Aziraphale had repaired the broken window, he found himself almost immediately surrounded by angels on all sides.

“Hello! Hello!” a few were repeating to the left, as though they had never heard the phrase before. Perhaps they never had. Heaven’s greeting customs were uncomfortably stiff and starched at times.

“Is that how they do it?” asked voices from the right.

Aziraphale went to assure them, when more voices above him called, “Did we do it right?”

And from below him, “What else do they say?”

And pushing him backward with the grandiose of their true forms, “Is that all?”

And catching him with flesh hands, “Can we go to Earth now?”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, and with a surge of energy, pushed every angel away from him as he cried, “ Enough! ”

The angels fell silent. Panting slightly, Aziraphale dusted himself off and shook his sleeves out. “Lesson number two,” he said lightly. “There are many types of humans, and human cultures, and some will not appreciate an invasion of their personal space. The area they determine to be their personal space varies. Where you all will be going, that behavior will not be socially acceptable.”

The angels murmured their apologies and backed off a largely unnecessary fifteen feet, so now Aziraphale was placed in the center of an almost perfect, empty dome. And then questions started up once again.

“Is this far enough away?”

“Shall we move back more?”

“Is this too far away?”

“I thought humans liked physical contact!”

“Do we have to shout like this?”

“No!” Aziraphale loudly called out to that last one. “In fact, most humans”—he lowered his voice to a regular speaking volume—“speak like this. It can quieter, it can be louder, but they typically don’t shout at each other in regular conversation.”

A collective, “ Ohhh ,” went up.

“There are many more exceptions,” continued Aziraphale, “but I hardly think here is the place to discuss them.”

He motioned for the angels to follow him, and then picked a direction to start walking. Perhaps to the angels, he was a Principality with a Plan, and he had a fully formed agenda he intended to carry out once they arrived at his chosen destination, the mysterious nature of which enthralled them to trail behind him without question. In reality, Aziraphale had not at all intended even to suggest changing locations and was now wildly spitballing ideas as he wandered about, taking turns at random hoping he would find an empty room large enough to house them all.

Luckily, he chanced upon a sparsely used lecture hall and made a split-second decision to march right on in. Hopefully, he wouldn’t get kicked out in the middle of whatever his near-future self would be doing. The angels shuffled in after him and took their seats, all the while watching Aziraphale as he stepped in.

Right , thought Aziraphale. Here we go.

He uncomfortably made his way to the front of the hall, feeling smaller and smaller with every step he took. When he finally reached a podium and turned around, he murmured a nearly inaudible, “ Oh dear. ”

Fifty-four (he had counted them as they had come in) angels of Heaven loomed over him. Some faces were smiling, most not, all were expectant. It felt like the trial he never had. He was aware that now, more than ever, every move, every word would be dissected with the utmost severe analysis. Mistakes would be costly, and Aziraphale could not afford much.

“Humans,” he began, picking up from where Gabriel had cut him off, “are complex and diverse creatures. Why they may shout is a minuscule facet of their character, though I can try to answer questions about that.” He waited one second, decided he would really rather not get into it, and bulldozed on. “They have made great progress since Adam and Eve—”

An angry drone rose up. “They can feel pain now!” shouted one angel in the nosebleeds. “They could have had a simple life of peace, and now they have committed some of the evilest sins even Hell has ever seen! How, Aziraphale, is that progress?”

“It is a travesty,” Aziraphale agreed quickly, “that the serpent convinced Adam and Eve to turn their backs on God. Knowledge was truly a dangerous thing, and they indeed paid a heavy price. I cannot dispute this. But without it, how could humanity have learned of all the good things God put on Her planet? Was it better to live in bliss and not feel as much of God’s love as possible? Inside walls where one could never learn what Good comes from wrong?”

The seraph abruptly stood, their massive form bowing to avoid the ceiling. Her presence is not quantifiable, they said, outraged. There is no ‘less’ amount of love in the Garden as there is anywhere else!

“No,” said Aziraphale amicably, “but what was outside the Garden? I can tell you. There are fantastic beasts not allowed in the Garden. Great deserts that go on into the horizon. There are even plants that did not exist within the Garden. These are not nothing. There is God’s love there, too.”

What you speak is blasphemy. Humanity was never meant to Know Good and Evil as She does.

“Of course not. Humans are not Her, and they never will be. But there is a difference between gaining the knowledge to understand and become aware of it, and the knowledge to try and change the way She created things.”

These back-and-forths went on, and on, and on, spiraling so far away from the actual dangers (like traffic laws and the rogue 2012 Ford Fiestas) Aziraphale wanted to warn them about, that he almost did not know not to rein it back in. That was not to say these discussions, we shall call them for the sake of politeness, were unhelpful.

As he spoke and answered questions, Aziraphale began to uncover some truths about the angels he had never been privy to with his time on Earth. The vast majority of the fifty-four angels present (Aziraphale had counted as they had come in one-by-one through the doorway) had accepted a very old-fashioned impression of humans as the literal gospel truth. When prompted, Aziraphale learned that they thought all of humanity consisted of barbaric, violent creatures with few to no redeemable qualities. Some were good, but most were already so infected with Evil, there was nothing left to do but purge them. As far as the angels were concerned, there would be nothing to mourn if humans were all destroyed during the War That Was Naught. Which, if one must be reminded, was meant to be an epic battle in which Good triumphed over Evil and eradicated it for, well, good.

Of course, that did not happen. But in the eyes of Heaven, Aziraphale was the one to blame.

Because of this, every one of the angels before him was highly skeptical and determined to believe every word he spoke was blasphemy of the blackest sort. Muttering and the occasional dark glares and the hostile tones were ghostly re-enactments of the events of that horrible day one year ago. He feared they would begin jeering once again, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle himself. There weren’t twenty million of them, but fifty-four was still an awfully large number for one angel.

In short: it was not going well.

Results, hissed a particularly venomous Gabriel in the forefront of Aziraphale’s mind. Slightly flustered, he kicked himself into a higher gear.

When all else failed, at least he could turn to familiarity’s embrace to keep him warm. When Aziraphale was lost, he went back to what he knew, and what he knew was this: he had been fired from his position on Earth. Currently, he was being held hostage in Heaven and forced to do its bidding, which involved lecturing a whole bunch of angels about humans because the angels kept getting killed when they went to Earth, or were so shaken by being on Earth, they wanted to leave. He had to tell them how not to do that.

There was the problem laid out in the simplest terms. Now, here was where familiarity parted with Aziraphale and introduced him to the chilly unknown. There were several ways to go about resolving the problem, and dozens of meta layers to dig through to reach the big Why of that problem, but there were only a few ways Heaven would see as the ‘right’ ways. Lecturing on about the knotty ethics and morality of humanity was was not one of them at the moment. Aziraphale had to focus on the simple matter on how to teach fifty-four angels of Heaven about Earth in a manner that would not get themselves, himself, a human, or Crowley killed.

To digress from the philosophical concerns, Aziraphale had to wonder—what was it that kept getting the angels discorporated, anyhow? Or made them want to leave so quickly? Getting hit by a car or getting a paperweight dropped on one’s head wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence. And humans were typically fairly pleasant most of the time. He would need to coax information out of Sandalphon before he proceeded, somehow.

He told the angels to hold a short discussion amongst themselves. If he wanted to make the progress Heaven wanted promptly, he would need answers to factual questions as soon as possible. Quietly, he approached a nearby angel and asked if she knew where he could find Sandalphon. She stared at him blankly before sliding what looked like a thin piece of glass out of her pocket—

Oh. Oh—Oh, drat. Aziraphale should have taken up Crowley’s offer to teach him how to use those delicate new mobile phones that were coming out when he had the chance. The one the angel had looked even more alien than Crowley’ s—it was made entirely of a translucent blue piece of glass. Completely unspectacular, and utterly alien. At least Crowley’s black phone had a discernible screen and a frame and a button to press.

“ Hardly anyone uses a rotary phone anymore, ” Crowley had said. “ You really should get with the times, angel. At least the technological ones if nothing else—they move fast. ”

And Aziraphale, what a fool he was, had turned up his nose and scoffed, “ I will keep my telephone, thank you very much .” The phrase “to bite him in the arse” almost felt too appropriate.

“You’ve reached the Head Office of the Divine and Eternally Ethereal Businesses of Heaven,” a smooth, baritone voice said. “My name is Barratiel. How may I assist you with your inquiries today?”

Oh, bless her, the angel had made the call for him. She held the phone out to him. He took it and uncertainly held it up to his ear the same way he had seen Crowley do dozens of times. “Erm, hello. This is the Principality Aziraphale.”

All at once, the smoothness became as slick and cold as ice. “Aziraphale. What business do you have to conduct today?”

“I need—I would like to speak to Sandalphon. Is he available?”

“I’m afraid Sandalphon is quite busy at this time. May we redirect you to one of his assistants?”

“No, I’m afraid it needs to be Sandalphon. He has—”

“I’m sorry, but Sandalphon is unavailable at this time. You may either speak to his assistants, or I suggest you please call again later.”

“I—Um. I’m sorry, but I must insist on speaking to Sandalphon!” It probably would have come out more authoritative if Aziraphale were not speaking into the phone upside down. He did not know he was doing so, and thus it did not. “It is imperative that I do so, for Heaven’s sake!”

“I can pass a message to him noting that you would like to speak with him,” replied Barratiel, completely unfazed. “He will likely get back to you between five to ten business days.”

Aziraphale scowled. “Fine. Fine! Are you absolutely sure there is no way to speak to him now?”

“Yes,” he answered, clipped. “Is there anything else?”

“I swear he just left me alone five minutes ago. How can he already be busy?”

“Her Archangels have much work to be done,” sniffed Barratiel. “No thanks to you.” Aziraphale took the phone off of his ear and gaped at it. “Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

Lord, give him the strength to not snap this piece of glass into a million fragments. “No,” he sighed, “I suppose not.”

“Peace be with you.”

“And with your spirit,” Aziraphale said robotically. He hears a strange crackling sound that was similar to someone blowing in his ear. Was that the end of the call? It was awfully hard to tell with mobile phones. He pinched the bridge of his nose and vowed to attempt to reintroduce the landline into modern London society once he returned.

“How are things going, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale yelped and nearly dropped the phone. He batted it in the air a few times before snatching it and clutching it close to his chest. “Ah! Gabriel!” He cleared his throat and straightened up as best he could. “You, um, weren’t gone for long.”

Gabriel wasn’t watching him, electing to let his gaze sweep disapprovingly over the angels as though they were a menagerie pacing around and waiting for Aziraphale to give them an order to obey. Aziraphale could not help but notice the way they shrunk back and hid their faces. “It was noted that no one had sent anyone down yet. I wanted to see the holdup.”

Aziraphale sputtered. “I need more time than forty minutes! There’ s—quality control, and don’t get me started on the information itself I must give, not to mention there are too many details you’ve neglected to provide me with—”

“It sounds like you’re already struggling.” Gabriel smiled coyly.

“I am doing just fine, thank you,” he gritted out. The phone was unceremoniously stuffed back into the other angel’s waiting hand . “ However , there is one question I would like you to answer. And just the one.” He was no Sandalphone, but as much of an airhead as Gabriel was, he had to know something, didn’t he? “What were the main causes of the angel’s, er, early retirement, shall we call it? One hundred and forty-seven is an awful lot to burn through. I would like to avoid making the same mistakes.”

Gabriel pinned him with a filthy look. Aziraphale tried to keep his visible squirm at a minimum. Then Gabriel flicked his wrists, and a decently sized stack of paper appeared. He shoved it harshly into Aziraphale’s chest, scowling.

“What you need will be there. Send one down within the hour, or we are retracting our part of the deal.”

As quickly as he had come, Gabriel was now gone again. Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief before turning his attention towards the papers. A fair portion of them was blocked out with perfectly rectangular blocks of golden ink, but Gabriel had held to his word—everything he needed was there.

“You don’t like him,” the other angel commented quietly.

“He has not been the warmest to me in the past,” Aziraphale replied offhandedly. He began to skim through what papers he could, mentally making two separate lists of reasons for discorporation and reasons for resignation as he went.

“He isn’t warm to many,” admitted the angel. That caught Aziraphale’s attention. He looked at her, and she immediately glanced away. “I don’t—I don’t know why I said that. I’m distracting you. My apologies.”

She hastily joined her neighbor’s conversation. Aziraphale watched her idly for a few more seconds before going back to the lists.

The discorporated list was a good deal more convoluted than the other. The most recent incident was with Arael. Beyond that, a good bunch of angels appeared to have forgotten their human bodies needed an entire respiratory, circulatory, nervous, and many other types of systems to make their human bodies function correctly. One or two ended up in the wrong parts of town and were promptly… was he reading this correctly? Mugged? Aziraphale hastily decided he couldn’t overthink that and moved on to what was a few more involving broken necks, one case about laughing too hard, a drowning, another one got hit by a bus—a note here claimed a human witness exclaimed, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ali!” at the moment of impact—and at least five cases off falling off of something tall.

This list could be summarized briefly as follows: an angel’s downfall was a fatal misunderstanding of the delicacy of the human body. As well as traffic laws.

That should be simple enough to remedy. Aziraphale had read a fair amount of human anatomy books as they had come out, watching humans’ progress as they took apart their bodies to see what made them tick. Surely he could pass on that information to these angels quickly enough.

But as for the resignations… They gave Aziraphale a long pause. Where the discorporations had a wide range of freak accidents, the resignations cited one reason, and one reason only: it was overwhelming. Most details going into depth about those were redacted, but one phrase that caught his attention. It said, “It felt as though every being on Earth were crying out at once...loud...sorrowful…it hurts too much to stay.”

That was interesting. Aziraphale shook out the papers and miracled his reading glasses onto his face. It was not something that had occurred to him, but it sense. Where Aziraphale had learned over the course of six thousand years to push back his empathetic nature so as not to drown in the emotional tides of every living being on Earth, these angels were being thrown into the storm of the billions of souls all growing and shrinking, speaking and feeling, at once. It was a bit like wearing noise-canceling headphones your whole life, then finally taking them off and realizing you’ve been at a sixty-thousand person concert the entire time. Of course it would be jarring and upsetting, especially if one had never known for sound to have the capacity to be that loud.

Aziraphale glanced around. Behind the angels, the white walls of the hall shined brightly. And Aziraphale knew beyond those walls was the metropolis of human souls, and within that maze were trees, gardens, flowers—

Maybe humankind was just too much. Humans had a hundred things to say and feel, a thousand unspoken social rules, and, of course, they had traffic laws. They were violently different from Adam and Eve, whose experience had been so limited. It would be impossible to believe Eve could be related to a human six thousand years ahead of her time. Nature, on the other hand, was both entwined in humanity, yet relatively unchanged within the grand scheme of things. A tree did not have anxiety over the next paycheck. A red rose’s sorrow was not over the complicated depths of romance. An apple did not beset the downfall of humanity. Sometimes it made for a delicious apple crumble. Perhaps that one was in poor taste. Aziraphale decided to try and keep the angels away from fruit for the time being. Regardless, maybe nature would greet the angels with fewer consequences.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. It was worth a shot. “Pardon me,” he said to the angel who had lent him the phone. “What did you say your name was?”

“Ioael,” she answered. “And you never asked.”

“Right, of course.” He’d forgotten the brutal directness of Heaven. He was reminded once again of Crowley, who had never been one to sugarcoat (unless his pride was in peril), but he’d always associated that as a Crowley trait, not a Heavenly trait. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.”

Ioael studied him hesitantly before slowly saying, “And you.”

The pair went silent as every single head swiveled to stare. Aziraphale twisted his pinky ring. “Well, Ioael,” he said, “how do you feel about going to Earth?”

#good omens #good omens fanfic #aziraphale #gabriel #angel ocs #my writing #theological discussion #oh man how did i already write five chapters? i never write that much #gehd

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wellamarke · 6 years ago

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Laura’s Choice: An Exploration

My initial reaction to the now-infamous ‘Choice’ scene was abject horror and disgust. I couldn’t believe that Laura, of all people, would sacrifice poor little Sam, after everything she’s done for her supposed belief in synthetic humanity.

For what it’s worth, I still worry it was a bit of a manufactured plot point, but this is Humans, you guys: I’ve never been able to hate anything about it for long. I did try to, in series 2, but both times – with the Mattie/Odi storyline as well as Sophie’s Synthee arc – I managed to talk myself around by writing a good old essay.

So that’s where we’re at now. Rather than berate the scene from a writing angle (because there is a lot of really awful stuff to be considered when taking this scene in the context of the race relations parallel they’ve emphasised so much this year), I’m going to explore Laura’s choice from a character angle.

In the days since the episode aired I’ve been through numerous emotional states, engaged in many debates, and in general come up with a number of arguments that defend Laura’s decision, not as the right choice objectively, but as something that makes sense for her character. Stay with me.

The first thing we have to decide, I think, is this: what question was Laura actually answering? Anatole says she has to choose somebody to die. But was she really choosing:

1) the person she really thought should die,

2) the person she thought had the best chance of survival, or

3) the option that was mostly likely to resolve the situation?

The DigitalSpy interview with the writers would have you believe it’s the first option, and that Laura genuinely chose “her kind” over “theirs”. I… take issue with that. An alliance in which one ally does not seriously consider the other their equal is not, in fact, an alliance. If Laura seriously chose Sam for that reason alone, then Anatole is in the right, as this excellent Twitter thread points out, and if episodes 7 and 8 somehow confirm that reasoning then I’ll snap straight back to my kneejerk reaction of absolute revulsion.

But even within the first item on the list, there is room for discussion. One point that’s been well made by @TheSynthWhisperer on Twitter is that Laura may honestly, truly think that she considers synths as our absolute equals, and yet still, under fire and the threat of harm to her family, fold at the crucial moment. I don’t want to believe that of her, but I have to admit it’s a possibility. As Mia points out in 3.1, up until now Laura’s devotion to the synths’ cause has not come at any actual cost to herself. Not the kind of cost that counts. Sure, she’ll sacrifice a career, a marriage, those things aren’t anywhere near the scale of say… Sophie. Who’s standing right there in the corner, easy fodder for if Anatole gets mad. Who of us can truly say that we wouldn’t give up our ideals in that situation? I’m sure we’d all love to say “Me!”, but unless you’ve had them questioned in circumstances similar to this one, you’ll never really know. Sorry.

So that’s one theory, though not my favourite, for Sam being Laura’s honest choice for 1: when it comes down to it, her ideals are not as deeply-held as she’d like them to be. She does possess fears and doubts that she has not yet been able to purge from her soul, however much she’d love to, however much she thought she had.

Is there evidence for this line of thought in Laura’s previous actions? Arguably, yes. Every time I watch the series 2 finale I’m surprised by how determined Laura is that Mattie not upload the consciousness code. She’s the character whose relationship with Mia the show has focused on most, and yet she’s the loudest voice saying “No, this isn’t worth it, don’t do it.” Of course, the two situations are by no means the same, but perhaps there is room to argue that Laura’s ideals are subject to her propensity toward panic, when stakes grow to that kind of height.

The other reasoning for point 1: she wasn’t comparing organic life to synthetic life: she was comparing death. We had this hinted at in episode 5, with Sam’s line, “We don’t die in the same way you do.”

Now, in context, he’s talking about Karen, who we’re just supposed to accept is actually irretrievable, and truly gone (despite the fact that only Joe was there to confirm it, He Who Knows Nothing About Synths, for all I kind of love him now). But let’s look at Sam’s line in relation to the synthetic deaths Laura has witnessed first-hand.

She had braindead Max laid out on her dining-room table for a good while, and then saw the code magically make him good as new. She watched Mia and Hester die and then be miraculously brought back to life, even though Mattie wasn’t there in person to do it. We, the audience, remember the bleaker fates of characters like Karen and Flash, but in terms of the ones Laura has actually seen… synth death seems to be an undoable, tragic-but-not-absolutely-final concept.

So while Sam’s life may seem equal to the old man’s, his death does not. Laura has never seen an organic human return to life the way Max, Mia and Hester did. In the heat of the moment, I can perhaps see her clinging to this reasoning, hoping that somehow they’d be able to restore Sam if he did die. ‘They are as alive as us, but perhaps they’re never as dead as us’ - that kind of thinking.

We know this isn’t true, of course, because we know from the Elster Sisters roadtrip that the code is now offlining of its own accord. But Laura’s grasping at straws here. Whatever she chooses, she has to be able to live with it afterwards. A phonecall to Mattie might do the trick with Sam, whereas it’s not going to do Old McOld any good at all.

But what if Laura wasn’t answering Anatole’s question at face value at all? What if she was trying to make a tactical choice? This brings us to point 2, which I like to call “The Max Factor”.

In 3.1, we saw Max faced with the difficult choice between saving Christabel, a synth we didn’t know (but presumably he did) or preserving Leo, his brother, who we know he truly loves. Max, because he’s been elected leader of the railyard, has to set aside his own feelings and choose to sacrifice the person who is, objectively speaking, in the least danger. Christabel is moments from certain death. Leo has about a one-in-three chance of survival. Numerically, the answer is obvious: he should save Christabel, so he does.

To what extent is Laura’s choice comparable to Max’s? Well, although she doesn’t have a computer brain to tell her the percentages, it’s pretty clear from Laura’s viewpoint that the old man is in more danger than Sam is! We happen to know that Anatole doesn’t mind sacrificing the odd fellow-synth here and there to get his point across (RIP Agnes) but all Laura knows is that he’s a purist who’s asking her to set one species above the other. Clearly, he favours his own kind, or he wouldn’t be here. Out of the two possible victims, Sam has a higher claim on Anatole’s mercy.

Both Laura and Max choose to sacrifice the person who means the most to them personally, and because of that choice both of them risk losing others who love both victim and decision-maker: Max and Mattie’s friendship (which used to be about hugging on sight, remember) is in tatters, and he gets serious words from his big sisters about it too. Laura is making this choice in the sight of Toby, Sophie and Joe, and we see at least two of them shunning her for it later.

Both Laura and Max choose to save the person who they think needs saving most. And in both cases, nobody ends up dying. So technically, both of their tactical decisions paid off.

There’s another similarity between Max’s choice and Laura’s, though, and this one’s particularly fascinating because it’s actually a difference. Both situations have been orchestrated by Anatole. (Whether this is a particular hobby for Anatole or just something he saw work once and decided to use again… perhaps remains to be seen.)

Max, though, has no reason to suspect that Anatole is playing him. He is content to take Anatole’s word for it that (a) Christabel really is dying, (b) Leo really does have a chance and (c) there is absolutely no other way to save Christabel than to redirect the power from Leo’s ventilator. Sorry, guys, what are these lights doing on? You really couldn’t get power from anywhere else, huh? (And gruesome as it may be, especially since one of them’s Flash, but… there are at least two synths lying around the place who aren’t using their batteries any more. If Anatole’s such a whizz surgeon, couldn’t he do some transplanting? No?)

Because Anatole seems so trustworthy, and has even built up his apparent reasonableness by acknowledging Max’s mysterious attachment to Leo and expressing regret that it should come to this, Max doesn’t second-guess him at all. Looking back at the scene now, we can see obvious hallmarks of Anatole’s manipulation. In a very dark retrospective twist, we might even suppose that he was the one who ordered Flash’s escorts to desert her in the town, thus leaving Max extra vulnerable. Anatole was the one who’d asked her to go on a supply run without Max’s authorisation, after all.

Laura, on the other hand, is acutely aware that she’s being manipulated. Anatole is not a trusted friend - he’s come into her life as a marked villain. And this takes us on to point 3: was she merely choosing the option that would most likely resolve the situation?

Unlike Max’s choice, Anatole hasn’t even tried to dress this one up as a real life-or-death issue. Nobody has to die. He’s being pretty open about the fact that it’s a question of morality, not medicine. There’s no logical reason for this choice to be made at all – especially since Laura is fighting for synth equality, not synth supremacy. It’s completely and utterly fabricated, and Laura and Anatole both know it.

So what should she do? Argue for a third option, like “neither!” or “take me instead?” Either of those would have been a lovely gesture, and I’m sure we were all thinking it while watching. “Neither” is, ethically, the correct response to the question, and “take me” is the one that seems most like the person we know Laura to be – courageous and compassionate.

But she’s also not stupid!

Of course she considers this. Come on, now. Of course she thinks about trying to outwit Anatole. She’s a lawyer by trade. She relies on her ability to out-logic her opponent on a day-to-day basis. But how often, in the past, has she faced someone who honestly intends to commit cold-blooded murder in her own living room?

Well, once, actually.

When Hester paid a visit in 2.8, Laura tried valiantly to talk her down. She did exactly what we’re asking her to do in 3.6. She delivered some series-best dialogue, some really hard-hitting, beautiful lines of logic, and what happened? Did Hester suddenly go, “Oh, you’re right, humans are wonderful! I do apologise, here, have your neck back?”

No. Laura’s attempts to reason with Hester only escalated the situation. Hester went from scarily-but-calmly waiting for Leo to arrive to literally brandishing a weapon in Laura’s face, all because Laura tried to go all lawyery on her.

So, faced with a similar showdown: is Laura going to risk it? Is she really going to try and talk Anatole down? Because let’s remember that with Hester, all Laura had to lose was her own life – they were the only two people present. This time, two of Laura’s children are watching, and so is their father. Wouldn’t it be so much better to end the situation before Anatole gets really mad and starts picking people off? He’s come with a miniature army – what’s to stop each of his lackeys getting hold of a Hawkins throat and pressing down until Laura stops wailing “take me! take me!” and changes her answer to one of the actual options?

Nothing! This is a very scary situation! Anatole is clearly not going to be reasoned with. Were he a reasonable person, he wouldn’t be here asking her to choose a side as a test of equality. Anatole, honey, that’s the literal opposite of what equality is.

Which he obviously knows. Because really it all comes down to that line of his: “You’ve already made your decision”. While Laura quite possibly hasn’t, at this point, done anything of the kind, that line makes it obvious that Anatole doesn’t want to test her, he wants to prove himself right! He doesn’t, for one single instant, think that she is going to do anything but what he’s scripted for her.

So she can’t choose the invisible third option. It’s definitely going to have to be one or the other. All right, so who should Laura choose?

Let’s say she does what we secretly wish she’d done, and picked the old man. For a start, there’s tonnes of horrifying ways that could go down, involving the types of blood geysers that put an end to Helen Aveling and Pete Drummond (RIP, guys). Laura obviously doesn’t want to see that, and she certainly doesn’t want Sophie to witness it.

And since this so clearly isn’t what Anatole wants her to do, even the chance that it’s a bluff might not be enough to save the old man. Imagine, okay, let’s imagine she points a finger and says “Old McOld”. (I really wish they’d given us a name for the sake of this essay, but I see that it was a very artsy decision not to, adds to the whole anonymity vs. familiarity angle, hmm yes very clever)

Laura putting one synth before one human isn’t going to prove SQUAT about humanity in general. (Hester again: “Our existence is meaningless to all but a few out of billions…”) Choosing that option is going to make Anatole angry, because he’s come here to be proved right and he’s damn well going to prove himself right. If Laura tries to make a stand for what (we presume) she actually believes (that Sam’s young life IS more worthy of preservation than the old man’s, by virtue of his greater potential for a future) then Anatole, like Hester before him, is not going to suddenly beam and say, “Thank you, Laura, you’ve shown me the error of my ways.”

He happens to believe Laura won’t practice what she preaches anyway, but even if she, personally, does put Sam first… What, suddenly all humans are fine? No, his whole point is based on Laura being an outlier. So really if she tries to prove him wrong she’s just prolonging the (very dangerous) situation.

Anatole will almost certainly push her to switch for her “true” answer, the one he wants her to go for. Personally, I don’t think he’s even considered what he’ll do if Laura chooses to kill Old McOld, because he’s so sure she won’t, but I can see him having Stanley apply as much pressure as he can, get as close to going through with it as is biologically possible before actually killing Old McOld, to give Laura the longest possible anguish and try and force her to change sides. Anatole claims later that he was bluffing, but I think he was only bluffing so far as he knew what she was going to go for.

On the other hand, if she chooses Sam, then Anatole has made his point. Having manipulated, humiliated and demoralised Laura to the point where her own family can’t even look at her, he doesn’t even need to kill Sam - and as mentioned in point 2, Sam was probably never in that much danger in the hands of a fellow synth, anyway. Choosing Sam is not only the option that is least likely to lead to the death of one of the binary options, it’s also the option that will shut this whole thing down fastest. Remember again that Laura’s family is in the room. One of the lackeys has already made an attempt on Joe’s life. This was never just about saving one of the two people in front of her.

Of course, Laura can’t think any of this out loud, and it’s not a novel so we can’t read her thought process – and, crucially, neither can her family. Like us, they’re looking on in horror but they, themselves, are not the ones being called on to make this choice, so they’re not considering the options as deeply or as quickly as Laura has to. I think she knows full well that they’re going to hate her decision. But having decided that Sam is the most logical choice, she can’t exactly go, “Don’t worry, Soph, I’m sure they won’t actually kill him!”

She could explain it afterwards, of course, but it’s going to sound like making excuses, isn’t it? It’s going to sound weak and defensive, and Laura is anything but weak. So she lets them shun her, she doesn’t shout her reasoning through the door Toby’s just shut in her face, because she understands why he’s feeling like that, why it’s better for Toby and Sophie to grieve about it together before she asks them to see things from her point of view.

Nothing Laura did in that room, from the moment they opened the door to Anatole, was going to make the tiniest difference to Anatole’s hatred of humans – except maybe to heighten it. The safest, most logical thing to do was not to hedge, not to pull the concept apart, but to accept it as the binary choice he demanded and just choose what he wanted her to choose.

Of course, in this case, the safest choice was also the most painful. She runs the risk that Joe and the children will never understand what she did, or that she or one of them will die before a reconciliation – that’s the world they’re living in now. So even though she may have chosen the option that gives her the most peace of mind, it’s not… it’s not a LOT of peace of mind, is it? So of course she leaves her phone and keys and flees into the night.

I started out so angry with her, but I’m coming around to the idea that she really did think this through, and her thought process wasn’t “Sam’s a machine and we aren’t”. I don’t want it to be that. I believe in Laura Hawkins and I always will.

PS. i love debating this subject but please don’t reply to this post with any speculations about episode 7′s Big Ole Death, because I’m trying really hard not to find out beforehand! For once lol

#c4 humans #amc humans #humans spoilers #laura hawkins

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texanredrose · 7 years ago

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Blood Bond (HfH P1:3)

Ruby sighed, flipping through the pages of the journal, though she couldn’t claim to be absorbing even one word of it. The motel room ceiling fan turned slowly, creaking every now and again, providing the only other noise in the room. Finally, it appeared Weiss had enough.

“I’m going outside,” she said, sitting up and getting off the bed, heading for the door. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“It’s only been two days.” Knowing better than to let the angel wander off on her own, Ruby got up and followed, closing the door as they went out into the parking lot. “Sometimes, it’s like this.”

“Sitting around, waiting?” Weiss threw her arms wide. “What are we even waiting for? We’ve searched every newspaper and there’s no mysterious deaths or sudden changes in behavior or luck, nothing to indicate something supernatural going on at all.”

“Dad sent us here.”

She opened her mouth and then immediately clicked it closed, not wanting to touch the subject of the sisters’ absent father. Yang had already gone through the whole process of chewing the angel out after one thoughtless comment and trying to keep the two from yelling at each other had nearly ran Ruby ragged in the few short days they’d been travelling together. At this point, she’d lost count of who started the little spats between the two, but she ended up being the one putting a stop to them more often than not.

“I was under the impression that we came out here for some sort of message. Not for a job to hopefully show up,” Weiss eventually said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just hate the waiting.”

“Yang, too.”

“Yes, but she has a car.” With a sigh, Ruby turned to head back into the motel room until something caught her eye, leaning up against a tree at the edge of the parking lot. Brows furrowed, she started towards it, tilting her head. It appeared to be a bow of some sort- the weapon kind, hewn from wood with decorative markings along the curve. “Where are you going?”

“Look at this.” She knelt down, looking around and finding the motel just as empty as when they’d pulled up two days ago. Besides that, the thing looked old, as if it’d been left out in the weather for far too long. Moss had even started growing on part of it, and she brushed it off with ease before picking it up. “This thing must be ancient.”

“I’ve seen those markings before.” The angel’s brows pulled together as she accepted it when Ruby handed it to her. “It’s... been centuries, but I’m quite certain these are from a tribe that used to occupy this area.”

“You mean from before Vale was unified as a kingdom? Really?” She accepted the bow back, examining the string- which remained remarkably intact despite the age, having yellowed long ago. “What’s it doing out here?”

The roar of Yang’s engine as she pulled into the parking lot registered dimly but only truly earned her attention when the squeal of brakes being slammed on made her head snap up, in time to catch her sister practically jumping out of the driver’s seat.

“What are you two doing!” Her hands reached up, burying in blonde locks as a mix of frustration and panic came over her expression.

“We found a bow-”

“Cursed objects one-oh-one, Rubes! If it looks ancient and out of place, it’s probably cursed!” She jabbed a finger at the thing in her hands. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it!”

“I-” She glanced down at the bow. “I knew that. But it’s not cursed! Right, Weiss?”

“Of course it’s not cursed.” The angel set her hands on her hips and scowled. “If there was anything malicious about the thing, I would’ve felt it.”

“Oh, yeah, like you can fly, right?”

“Must you throw that in my face every time? I’m getting stronger!”

“Yang!” Ruby held it up, pointing at it to emphasize her point. “It’s just a bow, probably one of those novelty knock offs from that ‘authentic’ shop up the street and left out in the rain. There’s nothing cursed about it.” She waved it around. “See? Nothing’s happening.”

“Okay, first off, not every curse is instant. Secondly, we’ve got work to do, so stop playing with it anyway!” She jerked a thumb towards Bumblebee. “We might actually have a job.”

“Oh thank the Lord,” Weiss said, heading towards the car immediately. “Another demon?”

“No, probably not.” Yang sighed and drug a hand down her face. “Way more annoying, if the info’s right.”

“More annoying?” Ruby tilted her head while going to join the others, having dropped the bow beneath the tree. “What’s going on?”

“Alright, pop quiz time, for both of you.” They all climbed into the Camero, pulling out of the parking lot. “Local bar got roughed up by a group of leather wearing assholes with attitude problems. None of them are locals and no one knows where they came from. Sound familiar?”

She hummed, mentally pouring over the information she’d studied in the journals while the angel put forth her own guess.

“Sounds like mortals.” She scoffed. “Are we community police now as well?”

Ruby snapped her fingers. “Vampires!”

“Excuse you.”

“Vampires- remember how when we came into town, they mentioned the local cattle auction was canceled?” She turned in her seat to look back at Weiss. “Vampires operate in groups, they’ll usually use cattle to supplement their thirst for blood, especially when they have newly turned vampires in a low population area. It draws less attention. They wear leather to sorta explain away why they smell like cows. Uh, they’re also hyper aggressive, which would explain trashing the bar.”

“Good!” Yang nodded with a smile. “You pass, Sis. That’s what I’m thinkin’. Go ahead and bring up missing persons reports from this area of Vale; sounds like they have to have at least one newbie to account for the cattle kills.”

With a nod, Ruby pulled out her scroll and started doing the requisite research.

“How on Remnant did you father guess that they’d come this way?”

“Probably the auction- large amount of cattle waiting to be shipped off.” The blonde shrugged. “Would definitely be a draw for a batch of vamps looking for easy food.”

“Uh oh.” Silver eyes darted over to her sister, a frown curling her lips.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“I’ve got at least twenty people going missing in a hundred mile radius of this town. Majority are young and fit- and these are only the ones reported. Some are as recent as yesterday; they’re disappearing at almost one a day.”

“That... sounds like an abnormally large number.” Weiss leaned forward from the backseat, peeking over Ruby’s shoulder. “Vampires were nearly wiped out almost two centuries ago by hunters- I remember watching that bloodbath from Heaven. Since then, they’ve only survived by remaining in small numbers, correct?”

“Oh, you’re reading the journals, too? That’s good.” Yang pulled a face, equal parts surprised and impressed. “I mean, yeah, hunters have banded together to hunt vampires at least once every twenty years or so, and the last one hardly turned any up.” She glanced at both of them. “Honestly? If there are twenty new vampires, I’ve never seen or heard of a group that large in almost a hundred years. Dad and I hunted two a few years ago, and they seemed pretty convinced that they were the last of their kind. Kept going on and on about how we were going to make them extinct.”

From the silence that followed, Ruby stopped reading through the various missing persons reports so she could be prepared for the impending argument.

“Alright.” The frustration in the angel’s voice made her take a surreptitious breath. “Humor me. Why are vampires hunted so vigorously by mortals?” Weiss settled back. “Because, frankly, I don’t see much difference between them and any other predator out there, and that’s including mortals.”

Much to her surprise, Yang didn’t immediately shoot back a smartass response, instead humming. “Well, for one thing, they like to snack on humans and Faunus. That wouldn’t be so bad if they didn’t insist on draining their food source entirely, so the whole ‘killing people’ thing is a mark against them.” She sighed. “On top of that, they’re immortal, so there’s a direct correlation between how many vampires there are and how much blood they need to survive, and it skews a helluva lot higher for each vampire that’s around.” Then a shrug. “But, really, I think the part that pisses us off most is that they have a complete disdain for what they used to be and usually express that by making mortals’ lives hell even when they aren’t outright killing them. Take for example the bar from last night.” She looked up at the rearview mirror. “So, really, you’re right. They can be just as cruel as people, and people can be crazy as hell to begin with, but vamps don’t learn and they can’t die of stupid near as often as a human or Faunus. Like, uh, take a poacher for example. Yeah, not much difference between them and poachers- could pretty easily not be dicks but choose to be anyway. Problem is, a poacher can get gored by a rhino. Unless you behead a vampire, there’s no stopping them, and most people think you’re supposed to stake the bastards.”

“And why is that?”

“Oh, I actually have a theory about that!” Ruby turned in her seat, relieved that this time the conversation didn’t immediately devolve into an argument. “I’ve been reading a lot of the vampire lore and public perception of vampires started shifting right around the time the first purge happened. I think that there were enough vampires in higher society positions who managed to hide and used their influence to basically rewrite their own lore, make it easier for them to survive in the coming decades by making the things that could kill them more scarce.” She wiggled the scroll in her hand. “Nowadays, everyone thinks a clove of garlic and a wooden stake is enough to fight a Vampire, and no one thinks ‘behead them’ at all. That’s attributed to zombies.”

“Which, interestingly enough, those are the bastards you have to stake,” Yang said with a chuckle, glancing at the passenger seat. “I’m impressed, Rubes. That theory sounds pretty solid to me.” She paused, seeming to fight with herself for a moment before continuing. “Do we really seem like animals to you angels?”

Crap.

“It’s not an accurate comparison, I’d say,” Weiss replied, her voice a touch pensive. “But I spent so long watching wars and massacres, some of which perpetrated in God’s name. I liked to convince myself it was demons at work but sometimes... not even I could explain the cruelty of mortals.”

“Like I said.” Yang shook her head. “People are crazy.”

Yang pushed through the door of the bar, holding it open long enough for Ruby and Weiss to file in behind her. Immediately, she noticed how every set of eyes in the room snapped to them, tension rising quicker than a river during a flood.

“Sorry,” she said, offering her characteristic smirk. “We’re not the strippers you ordered. Didn’t mean to disappoint.”

“Very funny.” The bartender groused, still far too tense. “What can I get you stranger?”

“Not thirsty, but you might have what I’m looking for anyway.” She pulled out a twenty lien card, sauntering over to the bar and tapping the card against the wood. “Some people just passed through. Rough customers, troublemakers, probably were way too loud- ring any bells?”

He regarded her for a moment, the flash of disgust that washed over his expression far too telling. Then he took the lien from her and nodded. “Yeah. They were here last night.” His lips curled into a sour frown. “Friends of yours?”

“Hardly,” she replied, the jovial lilt of her voice and expression dying instantly. “I own a night club a few towns over. Those bastards trashed my place while I was handling some business elsewhere. Since I’m shut down for repairs, I thought I might... negotiate their payment plan for my reimbursement.”

“Oh yeah? If you can get double for me, I’d appreciate it.” He jerked his head towards the corner of the room, where a few broken tables and chairs were stacked up on a shattered pool table. “They also broke two of my bouncers’ arms when we tried throwing them out. I don’t know who fed those assholes their wheaties but I’d like to give that person a punch in the face.”

“I hear ya.” She shook her head. “Can’t have anything nice nowadays without some jackass coming around to fuck everything up.” Yang scratched at her jaw, glancing behind her and noting that Weiss had disappeared against while Ruby seemed to be only half paying attention, silver eyes discreetly glued off to the side. She didn’t seem tense, though, so that could only be a good sign. “Any idea which way they went?”

“Nah, they didn’t arrive in a car.” The bartender threw his arms out wide. “They just showed up, walked in off the street, and went off into the night once they were done making my life hell.”

Yang’s brows furrowed. While the open field across the street wouldn’t make getting to or from the place difficult, there remained the issue of where the nest had to be for them to not bother with any form of transport. If their net was being cast a hundred miles out, that seemed like much too far for them to have the nest this close.

“How many showed up here? I had, uh, I think it was five-”

“Yeah, five guys and two gals, six of ‘em with bad attitudes.” His brow furrowed, pressing his lips together for a moment. “I’m not sure about the gals- or one of ‘em, anyway. She didn’t look like she wanted anything to do with the others but didn’t have much choice. When you go... collect your dues, try to give her a head start runnin’. I wouldn’t be surprised if those assholes had plucked her off the street; ‘s how Billy got his arm broke, trying to get between ‘em and her.” He reached under the bar and produced a small stack of lien, at least half a grand’s worth. “And she slipped this to Nancy before they left. Not enough, but a sight better than what I coulda had.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. I mean, people make mistakes.” Dissent in the ranks it sounded like; they could probably use that to their advantage. “Oh, uh, one more thing.” She leaned against the bar, cocking her head to the side. “Did they bring in anything with ‘em?”

“Yeah, wine bottles.” He shrugged. “Had to be alcohol; they just got worse the more they drank, the louts.” Putting his hands up, the man shook his head. “Honestly, I only let ‘em bring it in because I thought it would keep ‘em from causing a scene. Hindsight is twenty, twenty, I guess.”

“I hear ya on that.” Another glance behind her confirmed that Weiss had returned which provided enough of a cue. “If I manage to find the bastards, I’ll be sure to... pass along your displeasure with them.”

“Thanks.”

Turning around, Yang lead the way back out of the bar, taking the steps quickly and turning to follow the sidewalk rather than heading straight towards Bumblebee.

“We have a shadow,” Weiss said, more than juiced up enough to essentially be their unseen guardian. “She was watching you particularly closely the entire time.”

“Is she flinching?”

“No.”

“Then probably not a vampire,” Ruby said as they turned the corner, ducking down the narrow alley between the bar and the general store beside it. “But-”

“But, she could be one of the older ones.” Yang frowned, reaching into her jacket and pulling out a silver knife already drenched in dead man’s blood. It wasn’t exactly ‘fresh’ but she figured that would be better rather than worse. “Ruby, keep going around back. Weiss, stay with her, and if you can give me a little cloaking, I’d appreciate it.”

They took the next turn to head behind the bar and she immediately stopped and pressed against the wall. In broad daylight, they had about equal footing, because if their shadow was a vampire, she wouldn’t be at full strength with the sun overhead. All Yang had to do was make sure no one saw them, which Weiss should be able to help with, but that was banking on a little bit much in her opinion. They had converted a whole damn gallon to holy water to ensure the angel had enough juice.

The scuff of boots hurrying toward the corner made her tense and, at the first sight of the person coming around, she sprang into action, grabbing onto a thin wrist and yanking, using her heavier weight to force their shadow against the wall, the knife held against her throat.

“Wait, wait wait wait, please!” Wide amber eyes held far too much fear for any immortal faced with a woman and a knife but Yang didn’t let up, expression pinched into a severe scowl.

“Why are you following us?”

“I’m sorry, please, don’t kill me-”

“Why are you following us?”

“Because I’m looking for them too!” Black feline ears twitched, laying down and to the side, a position that lent credence to the pleading in her voice, and thick raven hair cascaded over her shoulders, covering some of the threadbare parts of a jean jacket that had seen better days. “The group- they kidnapped my friend.”

Yang narrowed her eyes, absently noting that Ruby and Weiss had returned. “Lift your upper lip.”

No startled question followed and that made her suspicions rise because she could see in the Faunus’ eyes that she recognized what Yang was looking for with that request. “Please-”

“Do it.” She tilted the knife a bit closer, quite nearly biting into the Faunus’ neck.

“Okay!” Slowly, she raised a hand. “Okay, I’ll do it.” She reached up, grabbing her upper lip and lifting it, showing off perfectly healthy gums with no holes. “See? Not one o’ ‘em.”

With a nod, Yang pulled back the knife and leaned away, but her forearm firmly against the Faunus’ chest, pinning her in place. The Faunus seemed too genuinely terrified to be a hunter but she seemed to know enough about vampires to understand what she was looking for with that request. Something about the whole situation made her stomach turn. “What’s your name?”

“Blake. Blake Belladonna.”

“Okay, Blake.” She released the pressure entirely and put the knife back inside her jacket. “Go home. Now.”

“I can’t-”

“That really wasn’t a request.”

“Those monsters kidnapped my best friend!” Blake pressed her lips into a thin line, obviously becoming angrier now that she wasn’t scared out of her wits with a knife against her throat. “I’m not just leaving!”

“Monsters?” Ruby chimed in, stepping up and crossing her arms over her chest. “What- what makes you call them that? I mean, they’re awful people, but monsters?”

“‘Awful people’ won’t leave tips and give unsolicited advice that turns out to be wrong.” She lifted an arm, sweeping it wide out to indicate an unspecified direction. “Awful people don’t rip a cow apart with their bare hands and- and-”

“You saw them feed,” Yang said, muttering a curse under her breath and passing a hand over her face. “Shit.”

“Then- then you know.” Blake’s shoulders fell, a bit of fear creeping back into her voice. “You know those monsters are...”

Ruby stepped up, laying a comforting hand on the Faunus’ shoulder. “They’re vampires, Blake.”

“Oh God...” She put a hand to her head, running her fingers through her hair. “Ilia... no...”

Yang felt for her, she did. It had to be awful knowing someone you cared about wasn’t killed but rather turned into an absolute monster. But no amount of sympathy would undo that curse and, now that they had confirmation, they had a lot of work to do to find the nest.

“Look, Blake. I’m sorry about your friend.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But there’s nothing you can do. Just go home.”

“You don’t understand.” Blake shook her head. “I- I don’t have anywhere to go back to; it’s only been Ilia and I since...” She bit her lip and looked away, tears gathering in amber eyes. “I can’t just leave her.”

“There’s nothing more you can do,” Ruby said, looking to her sister for some idea how to comfort the Faunus.

Honestly, Yang didn’t do this part. Maybe it was her Dad’s policy rubbing off on her but he always warned against getting too much into the personal lives of those affected by the things they hunted. It always proved to be messy and they really couldn’t afford to let pity overcome their senses; the things they hunted were evil, pure and simple. Things didn’t get complicated that way.

Much to her surprise, it was Weiss who stepped forward, though she didn’t initiate contact the way Ruby had. Instead, she spoke softly. “I understand what it’s like, the fear of facing the world alone. But you need to trust us. There’s truly nothing more you can do.”

Amber eyes flitted between the three of them before tears began to fall, head hanging forward as she listlessly nodded. “Okay.”

Shoving her hands in her pockets, the Faunus turned away, heading back towards the parking lot. Yang felt bad for her- really, she did- but Blake would only get herself hurt trying to track down the vampires. It was a wonder she hadn’t been found out already, if she’d been close enough to watch them feed.

“So... this isn’t good, is it?” Ruby sighed, running a hand through her hair. “This does kinda confirm the theory that all the people who’ve been abducted recently are being turned.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Yang watched as the Faunus disappeared past the cars before coming back around the corner; better to talk away from prying eyes before they got to the hard part. “Did you find anything out while we were in there, Weiss?”

“Nothing too useful, unfortunately.” The angel shrugged. “I found a bottle or two, definitely filled with blood and not wine, but given the level of destruction, I doubt anyone will notice before throwing it all out. I didn’t find anything identifiable, though- no helpful map with directions to the nest.”

“Bummer.” Well, they couldn’t have gone too far; given the established timeline, any newly turned vamps wouldn’t be trusted on their own for another month at least, so they likely hadn’t been brought out with the others last night. Small miracle meant they should only be fighting a handful rather than dozens. “Then we start with large abandoned structures in the area and whittle it down from there.” She turned, motioning for them to follow her back to Bumblebee. “I’m willing to bet last night was a celebration. Whatever these bastards are doing, last night was some sort of milestone.”

Before they’d hit the parking lot, Ruby had her scroll flicked open, a sigh escaping her lips. “I think you’re right. No one reported missing last night.”

“Which means either someone’s not filing their paperwork or those bastards from last night are taking a break. Either way, bad news.” They all got into the Camero and she started it up, trying to run through what else they could use to narrow down the criteria. “Try looking for barns or... I dunno... grain silos?”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, but we’re in the breadbasket of Vale; I’m quite certain there’s more of those than people in some areas,” Weiss said, tapping a finger against Ruby’s seat. “Perhaps if I went and checked-”

“How far can you go before you wear yourself out?” She watched in the rearview as the angel looked away, chagrined by the reminder that she didn’t have near the strength she used to, even with a surplus of energy. “Let’s see if we can find a few good places to start and go from there. Okay?”

Throwing the gear into reverse, Yang pulled out of the spot and shifted to drive, brows furrowing as she glanced at the side mirror. There, she could see Blake, watching them leave.

Some people just didn’t know when to quit.

Ruby ran a hand through her hair, putting her scroll down. Hours of searching physical maps and property listings and they had three dozen possible locations while the sun neared the horizon, orange streaking across the sky. Best case scenario, tonight the vampires would rest; worst case, they would unleash almost two dozen brand new vampires, all of which would be hungrier and thirsty than a starving man walking through a desert.

Absently, she became aware of a presence by her elbow. “Hey, Weiss. Find anything?”

“No,” the angel replied, plopping down in the seat beside her and slumping against the table. Although Yang had made the point earlier, they were forced to do things the old fashioned way to some extent, sending Weiss out to check the locations they’d identified. “But I only got through the first half.”

Sliding over a bottle of holy water Yang had just finished blessing, the young woman ran a hand over her face. “This is hopeless.”

“No, we just need to think. There’s something we’re missing,” her sister said, tossing her own scroll down and standing up, cracking her back. “Let’s take a step back and-” The light thud of wood hitting wood brought her gaze towards the door, brows furrowing as a curse left Yang’s lips. “Fuck, Ruby, why’d you bring this thing inside?”

“I... didn’t?” She looked over at Weiss, who seemed equally perplexed in the brief break she took to stop chugging the holy water, assess the bow, and return to her previous task. “I left it outside.”

“I knew it, it is cursed!” The blonde walked over to where the bow had leaned up against the wall beside the door, bending down to scoop it up. “Damnit, I- wait.”

Her eyes narrowed, glancing back at Ruby before reaching inside her jacket and drawing her shotgun, leaving the bow alone to put a handle on the doorknob. With a nod, she drew her own pistol, lightly pushing at Weiss’ shoulder to alert her to the potential danger lurking just outside the door.

With all of them ready, Yang quickly threw open the door and shoved the barrel of her shotgun into the face of whoever was unlucky enough to try testing them. For a moment, Ruby worried one of the vampires had braved the pre-dusk hours to come for them, but that concern was swept away as her sister’s shoulders slumped, the weapon falling down to her side as she passed a hand over her face.

“Get inside,” she said, sounding thoroughly annoyed. “Now.”

A moment later, a familiar figure ducked into the motel room, ears drooping slightly.

“Oh... hi, Blake.” Ruby glanced around the room, convinced they probably didn’t look any crazier or more dangerous now than when Yang had a knife pressed against the Faunus’ throat. “Uh... have a seat, I guess.”

“Thanks, Ruby,” she replied, glancing at the shotgun being tucked back into the blonde’s jacket and the table before easing herself down onto the bed.

Almost immediately, Yang frowned. “How do you know her name?”

“By digging deep enough.” The Faunus pulled out her own scroll and waved it. “Searching through almost a hundred aliases took the better part of the day, but every trail leads somewhere.”

Ruby raised a brow, looking over at her sister, who seemed even more annoyed now than before. “Well, I mean, it’s not really hard figuring out my name. I was a registered student at a major university less than a month ago-”

“Yeah, Beacon University, where you were studying Criminal Justice at your sister’s insistence until a spontaneous fire erupted in your apartment and killed your girlfriend,” Blake said, her ears laying back now out of frustration rather than intimidation. “Said sister being Yang Xiao Long, currently wanted in every kingdom on a slew of charges under various pseudonyms. Both of you were born on Patch and your father’s Taiyang Xiao Long, who also has a significant amount of warrants for his arrest- should I keep going?” Amber eyes flashed with a bit of pride and defiance. “I know what I’m doing, okay? If I want to find you, I will, and it seems to me you need my help if you’re going to find the people who took Ilia.”

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” Weiss turned around, leaning over the back of her chair to look at the Faunus. “You think you can track down these vampires?”

“I can at least try...” Blake tilted her head to the side slightly, eyes narrowing. “Have we met before?”

“You know, I’d almost forgotten about that, Angel,” Yang said, chuckling slightly. “Her name’s Weiss. Go on, say hi to her.”

Confused, the Faunus complied. “Uh, hello, Weiss?”

“Hello, Blake, and Yang, you’re a terrible person.” The angel grumbled, turning back around to grab the bottle of holy water.

“See that’s just so very wrong of you to say. Blake, look at me.” Her sister made a motion towards the scroll in her hand. “You really think you can help us track down these vampires?”

“I’m certain.” She nodded, resolute. “I just need to know what to look for.”

“Well, a paper trail ain’t it-”

“You stopped by a strip club two months ago in West Pines.” The Faunus raised a brow at the light blush now dusting Yang’s cheeks. “I don’t track just paper.”

“Alright, fine, you can help us figure out where the bastards are.” She motioned towards the table. “But, real quick, if you know Ruby and me, who’s that over there?”

“Who’s- oh.” When amber eyes turned towards the table, Blake appeared surprised. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you over there. Have we met before?”

“You’re an ass, Yang.” Weiss grumbled, lowering her head until her forehead lightly thudded against the table. “An absolute. Ass.”

Her sister just laughed, leaving Ruby to roll her eyes and go over to Blake; the sun was almost on the horizon, and their chances of getting the drop on the vampires dwindled.

Before she had a chance to get down to the details, though, her sister sauntered over to the side of the bed and clapped a hand on her shoulder, speaking softly. “By the way, when we’re done with all this, you and I are going to have a serious talk about cursed objects and why you should never touch one.”

She would not be hearing the end of this any time soon.

Weiss watched as the last bit of sunlight faded from the sky, tucking another flask of holy water in her bolero and smoothing out her skirt. Much to their surprise, Blake had come through and identified a ramshackle barn out in the middle of nowhere, about ten miles from the bar and them. A short burst over there had given her enough of an impression to confirm that, yes indeed, the group of vampires they were looking for were holed up within, and that meant they had quite the task ahead of them. The heavy weight of a machete in her left hand confirmed as much.

“So you’re just going to- going to walk in there and start beheading them? Just like that?” Blake sat on the bed, looking between the sisters with clear horror splayed across her expression. “They’re people-”

“They’re vampires, and I get it that you probably buy all that new age crap, but lemme tell ya, they aren’t the sort you’re dying to invite into your bedroom, all sparkles and roses and immortal love.” Yang stopped packing her bag long enough to walk over to the bed, setting a hand on the Faunus’ shoulder. “Look, in all your digging, you probably figured out that what we- well, I, really, do borders on the realm of good, common sense. That’s because what I do is track down all the terrible things you’ve been told all your life aren’t real, and then I kill them, because they are terrible things.”

“Yang’s right.” Ruby swung her own machete a few times, alternating hands- ambidextrous, a useful skill for anyone in such a line of work. “Vampires are compelled by a hunger they can’t control. They will never pass up a meal and, to them, mortals- humans, Faunus- are the tastiest prey out there.”

“You’re wrong-”

“Blake,” she said, sighing heavily. “You have to accept this as fact. Your friend died the moment those monsters laid hands on her. You can’t save her now.” As the words left her mouth, she could see the splash of confusion, and her own vexation prompted her to cut off the argument before it began. “Yes, we’ve met before, you’ve asked me that twenty-six times since you stepped into the room, no, you won’t remember having done so in about five minutes or the next time you look away from me, yes, I’m sure, and no, it’s not going to stop. Please, realize that you’re out of your depth and you just need to trust us.”

“Getting a little pissy, aren’t ya, Angel?” Yang smirked and she quite nearly felt the inclination to snap back with something cutting but opted not to, knowing full well it would just escalate into another argument. She couldn’t be sure why she felt compelled to start arguments with the blonde, why gaining an edge in them made her feel victorious, but she could see the way it wore down Ruby to constantly be breaking them up. She just wished the elder sister could be a little less blind to it. “But she’s right, ya know. We are trying to help you, protect you, but we can’t work miracles. Ilia’s gone.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Blake replied.

“Yeah, I figured you’d say that, so, in advance, I’m sorry for this.” With motions almost too quick for the naked eye to catch, Yang reached for her belt and then lashed out, the metallic clink of handcuffs echoing in the room as one half encircled the Faunus’ wrist and the other clanked around the bed’s post. “But we really can’t have you running around playing a bit too literal a version of Devil’s Advocate.”

“The fuck-”

“This really is for the best.” Ruby gathered up the bags, conducting another sweep to ensure they weren’t leaving anything behind. “Room service will be by in the morning, so you won’t be left here too long. And we’ll call to make sure someone checks the room.”

“And, ya know, we’re not completely heartless.” Yang grabbed the remote for the television, clicking it on and surfing through the channels. “We’ll even leave you with some appropriate entertainment.” Landing on one that apparently had the express intention of depicting women in lewd situations, she tossed the remote to the other bed after turning the volume up an indecent degree. “There ya go, lots of nice, yelling ladies. Good luck being heard over that!”

“You can’t be fucking serious.” Feline ears laid back as she pulled against the cuffs, scowling at the sisters. “You’re not just going to leave me here like this!”

“Hey, you’ve got a hand free; spend your time wisely.” Yang grabbed her bag and hefted it onto her shoulder. “Take your mind off your troubles. And, uh, if you’re lucky, you’ll never see us again.” Lilac eyes bounced over to Weiss and she could practically hear the thought process behind her next words, another jibe at the angel’s inability to be perceived for long periods of time. Surprisingly, the words never came as the blonde instead turned towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s go clear the nest.”

Yang and Ruby left the room, closing the door behind them. Weiss could easily pop into the back seat and all she had to concern herself with was the bottle of holy water and the machete. So she waited until the sisters had started towards the car before approaching, laying a hand lightly on the Faunus’ shoulder and doing her best to ignore the sounds coming from the television.

“I understand this is hard for you but we are, genuinely, doing what’s best,” she said, hoping she could impart a little peace before they left to do the deed.

Amber eyes shining with tears looked up at her. “You’re telling me that giving up on my best friend is ‘what’s best’? Who even says that?” Blake’s eyes narrowed in anger. “What kind of angel are you?”

“The kind that has made mistakes before... and vowed not to let it happen again.” Weiss sighed, shaking her head. “If nothing else, take comfort that you saved many other lives today. I’m sure your friend can be proud of that.”

As she stepped away, preparing to join the others in Bumblebee, she heard the Faunus’ mumbled words. “It was supposed to be us against the world. We never thought we’d get in over our heads... why does she have to be the one to pay for that?”

Biting her tongue, the angel left and joined the sisters in the car, glancing back to the motel room one last time.

There existed the downside to being remembered, to having memories of others- the inevitable loss. Death came for all, save angels and demons, and even mortals had the opportunity to haunt, either in a figurative or literal sense. How tragic an existence, she mused, to make friends, to forge connections, only to lose them no matter how hard you fight to preserve them.

“Hey, you okay back there?” Yang glanced at her in the rearview while pulling out of the spot. “Got your head in the game?”

“Of course,” she replied, the irony occurring to her in that moment.

How tragic an existence indeed.

Ruby scrolled along the map she’d saved to her scroll, looking up quickly and back down again. “Pull off here.”

“Good spot?”

“If we don’t want to tip them off.” She nodded towards the bend in the road. “A mile that way is the nest. Any closer, they’ll hear us coming.”

“If they haven’t already,” Weiss said, tsking immediately after. “You’d think you’d pick a less conspicuous vehicle, given your line of work.”

“Look, I don’t get many bright spots on a given day, let me have my dream car,” Yang replied, a bit of a smile on her lips as she pulled onto the shoulder. “C’mon. We’ve still got a way to hoof it and only a sliver of a chance that those vamps haven’t high tailed it to an all-you-can-eat buffet.”

They got out, heading to the trunk to grab the machetes and a crossbow, the bolts already well and truly coated in dead man’s blood. Arguably, one of the least savory things Ruby had done thus far, but an ultimate necessity. Plus a silver knife or two each- they would be fighting their way through a nest, so taking as many weapons as they could feasibly carry wasn’t exactly a bad idea.

But then Weiss’ head snapped up, peering down the road. “Someone’s coming.”

“Someone?” Yang peeked around the open trunk, a frown coming to her lips. “I think you underestimated that one just a tad.”

“How many?” Not waiting for an answer, Ruby inched her way around the other side and grimaced. It looked like the group that visited the bar, minus one of the women, and the whole lot looked in high spirits. Not a good sign.

“We can take ‘em,” her sister said, reaching up to close the trunk and slipping the machete under her jacket. “Let’s see if we can get the drop on ‘em. Don’t let them see your weapon until my signal.”

“Good evening, Ladies.” One of the men, with shaggy grey hair and a cocky smirk, called out to them, spreading his hands wide. “Car trouble?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Yang walked around the driver’s side, motioning towards Bumblebee. “Engine just died out on us. I don’t suppose any of you are mechanics?”

“Oh, we’ve got a lot of nifty skills.” He looked back at his compatriots and chuckled. “Name’s Mercury, by the way. Might as well get the formalities out of the way, right?”

“Well, Mercury, I’m-”

“Yang Xiao Long,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Oh, I know who you are. You look just like your Dad, what with the blonde hair and the cocky smile and the jacket.” Mercury shook his head. “He, uh, did a bang up job destroying the nest of the asshole who turned me. Always meant to thank him for that, because if he hadn’t, well, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?” He took a few steps closer, the other vampires beginning to spread out, making a half circle around him. Cutting off all avenues of escape, or trying to anyway. “I’d still be waiting in the shadows for a cow to drop dead, or picking off some homeless guy once every year as a special meal, but now I’m big time! Got myself a nest of my own. And an army just waiting for my word.”

“An army?” Yang chuckled, scrubbing at her nose for a moment before pulling her machete free, as much of a signal as Ruby needed to slip a bolt into the crossbow and take aim. “And here I was hoping we could be subtle about this.”

“There’s nothing subtle about extinction,” Mercury replied, expression twisting into rage. “And it’s high time we take our rightful place at the top of the food chain. Bon appétit, bitch.”

With that, two of the vampires rushed forward while Ruby pulled the trigger, sending the poisoned bolt sailing through the air until it embedded deep within Mercury’s leg, just above the knee. He immediately dropped down, unable to join his compatriots as they took swings at Yang, who ducked and dodged while swinging her machete, able to slice across arms and chests but not quite hitting the neck. Still, the dead man’s blood coating the cutting edge of her blade did enough to make them stagger back, weakened. Another tried rushing towards Weiss, who effortlessly sidestepped the lunge and managed to land a hit along his backside as he passed. However, when he swung around and threw a punch, she somehow didn’t get out of the way quick enough, staggered slightly by the solid cross that landed on her jaw.

“Oh, of course it doesn’t work on you.” Weiss sounded equal parts annoyed and dryly amused as she regained her footing. “Just my luck.”

“Wait, what?” Ruby shuffled a few steps back while reloading the crossbow, taking careful aim and sending the next bolt flying into the forehead of the vampire closest to her. It still wouldn’t be the same as beheading the bastard but would buy her some much needed time; she didn’t quite have the upper body strength of her sister, so she’d probably need a swing or two to make it all the way through the neck. “You can’t pop in and out around these guys?”

“Apparently not,” the angel replied, being more careful this time and managing to nick the vampire’s throat, enough to make him clutch the wound and back up a few steps.

Yang, meanwhile, had already beheaded one of the vampires trying to bite her, and drove the point of her machete into the second’s throat, all the way through, and used that leverage to knock him off his feet. With a boot on his chest, she puled the blade free of flesh and then sliced, cutting his head off completely. “Well damn, Weiss, maybe you’re losing your mojo and becoming straight up mortal.”

“There are so very many things wrong with that statement.” With another bolt sent flying and embedding in the vampire’s shoulder, Weiss had both the opportunity and the advantage, taking care of him while Ruby turned her attention to the one she’d wounded earlier, two hacks making quick work of him. “There, that’s, what, four down, twenty to go?”

Ruby looked up, expecting some sort of gloating remark from Mercury and surprised when it didn’t come- doubly so when neither he nor the woman were anywhere around.

“Well, shit.” Her sister sighed, wiping off the blood on her jacket sleeve. “Guess he got away.”

“He couldn’t have gotten far.” She looked around, then up the road. “But the nest should be our priority.”

“Right.” Yang nodded. “Come on. We’ll get there quicker on foot.”

“How do you figure that one?” Weiss flicked her own machete, dislodging some but not all of the blood.

“Simple- we can follow the trail.” She motioned towards the blood leading back up the road. “Mercury was on and on about the nest he built; he went straight back there. Vampires are a proud batch of bastards.”

“Then, we’re walking into a trap.”

“Yep.” Yang popped the ‘p’ hard enough to convey just how very unimpressed she was with what lay ahead of them. Ruby loaded up another bolt and checked to be sure the machete still hung from her belt, looking over at her sister. “Ready when you are.”

“Well, at least the amount of surprises should be pretty low.” The angel started down the road. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” She nodded. “Let’s go.”

They stood before the rundown barn, enough lights on inside to prove it wasn’t entirely abandoned. In case someone couldn’t hear the commotion going on inside, anyway. Voices- so many voices- combined in whines and howls and pleas, some of which didn’t even sound human. The symphony of newly turned vampires fighting to acclimate to their new status, sensitive to the lights, driven mad by the sound of hearts beating, an unquenchable thirst just beginning to take root.

Yang shook her head. “This is gonna suck.”

Ruby couldn’t help but snort, trying not to laugh.

Weiss, however, seemed far less amused. “Was that a pun?”

“Oh, don’t act so surprised.” She shrugged. “You gotta have a sense of humor with gigs like this.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Well, they already know we’re coming. I say we walk in the front door and-”

“No!” She winced at how abruptly the objection left her lips but tried playing it off as best she could when her sister and the angel looked at her. “I mean... we don’t have to make it easy for them, right? Why not just go in the back?”

“Assuming there is a back, you mean?” Weiss rolled her eyes, then scanned over the barn. “You honestly think the element of surprise is even possible at this point?”

She shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, right?”

Biting her lip, she hoped beyond hope that it would be enough to win the fight. Thankfully, Yang seemed to see the sense in her plan, nodding.

“Yeah, there’s gotta be somewhere we can sneak in... but first, we’ll need a bit of a distraction.”

Weiss gave her a flat look. “... why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you even have blood?”

“I’d rather not find out, if we’re being perfectly frank!”

“We don’t need a distraction!” Ruby nodded towards the barn. “Mercury’s wounded and he’s pissed, we just killed over half his entourage, and all he’s left with are loud, upset, hungry newborn vampires just dying to bite anything, and that includes him. How about we just play this one by ear a little bit and see if he trips and falls on his own sword?”

“That’s banking on a lot of hope, Rubes.” Her sister raised a brow. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah...” She shrugged. “I got a feeling, is all. We can do this without putting Weiss at risk.”

“I’m already in favor of this plan.”

“She means ‘no more risk than either of us’ because we’re still walking into a nest in the dead of night.” Yang shook her head and sighed. “Alright, Sis, we’ll try it your way. But stay close and watch each other’s backs. Newborn vamps are strong and crazy from overstimulation; they really don’t like loud noises or brightness. You both grabbed flashlights, right?” They both produced theirs, Ruby slinging the crossbow since she wouldn’t have a free hand going forward. “Alright. Let’s sneak around.”

The three began picking their way around back, trying not to disturb the rusted farm equipment abandoned along with the barn.

She just hoped she was right.

Yang pressed up against the wooden wall, taking a firm grip on the rusted handle of a dilapidated back door and easing it open as quietly as possible. The racket within had calmed some and she could hear Mercury shouting at the others- he’d probably used his own blood to placate some of them, nevermind the dead man’s blood poisoning his veins. Well, better luck for them, she thought, if he insisted on doing half the work for them; weakened vamps were a good deal better to deal with than ‘healthy’ ones.

Looking back to Ruby and Weiss, she held up three fingers, hoping they would understand that the element of surprise probably wouldn’t be there’s for long. They’d have to move quick.

On a silent count of three, she pulled the door open and rushed in, machete raised and ready, but dropped down behind a stack of crates almost immediately, followed by the others. From a quick glance, no one had noticed their presence, so best to position themselves as best they could before the real bloodbath began.

“Are you ready? To feast on the live blood of those beneath us? To no longer be relegated to the shadows?” God, this dud was on a power trip and she had to fight not to call out how ridiculous he sounded. She probably should’ve known by how he slicked his hair to the side that he had a flair for the dramatic. “Tonight begins of our war of attrition!”

This dude just loved the sound of his own voice, didn’t he?

Looking to her sides, Yang nodded at Ruby and Weiss as they prepared to pop up and over the crates. With any luck, the newborns were still tied up or otherwise restrained- too dangerous to let them run amok- and they would only have to deal with Mercury and the other full fledged vamp.

“But first, I bring you a gift! Dinner time!”

Before they could make their move, the vampire they’d left unaccounted for reached over the crates and plunged a knife into her shoulder, pulled a curse from her lips as she yelled out. Ruby and Weiss reacted almost immediately, swinging opposite ways so their machetes clanged when they met in the middle and the vampire’s head all but fell into Yang’s lap, drenching her in putrid blood. Thankfully- if an upside could be found- none of it landed on her shoulder, as she instinctively reached up and pulled the knife out, fresh blood beginning to soak through her shirt.

But it didn’t seem like Mercury was too concerned about losing yet another of his ilk, busying himself with something on the other side of the barn.

“Okay, plan B, I’m the distraction,” she said, getting to her feet and dropping the flashlight, her right arm all but useless thanks to the knife wound. At a glance, she could tell this whole fight would be against the clock, iron wrought cages keeping little groups of newly turned vampires separated, maybe three or four a pop, and a lot of people hadn’t been doing their paperwork, since at least six were filled with four or five each. “You two, focus on Mercury. Keep as many in their cages as possible.”

She probably wouldn’t get a shot at the bastard considering he’d already unlocked one door, throwing it wide open. On the one hand, she was probably lucky- the cage only contained three vampires- but on the other hand, they were coordinated, not howling and chomping at the bit like the others now that fresh blood hung in the air. They were probably a few weeks into their transformation, able to control some instincts but still hyped up on their own life blood and dying for the chance to test their new limits.

“Well... fuck,” she said, tightening the grip on her machete and widening her stance. “I am not a fucking buffet.”

“Oh.” Mercury laughed, shaking his head. “Yes, you are.”

From where she stood, she could see the gleaming fangs lining the mouths of the new vamps, how their eyes focused on her alone and allowed Ruby and Weiss to move around to flank them. Three on one didn’t sound like odds she’d like on a good day, much less with an injured arm, but Yang steeled her nerves and made a ‘come hither’ motion with right.

The first one charged, blinded by his hunger, which made it easy for Weiss to merely catch him around his neck with the machetes, no swinging required. The other two were more cautious first jumping up before advancing, practically running on the tops of the cages to get around Ruby and Weiss.

Well, two on one was better than three, and she wasn’t out of the fight just yet. She jumped back as they landed in front of her- a guy and a gal, the former built like a brick shithouse and the latter more slender, which meant she had little chance of relying on speed or strength to carry her through.

“Come on, now,” she said, trying to buy herself a little time as Ruby and Weiss tried to deal with Mercury. “This really isn’t something to lose your head over, is it?”

Apparently, vampires didn’t possess senses of humor, the one rushing at her while the other hung back and bided her time. Meanwhile, Weiss got thrown back by Mercury, who seemed to be holding his own despite the dead man’s blood, blocking Ruby’s attempted to behead him with a knife of his own. Probably would be a comically mismatched fight if it weren’t for his supernatural strength, but she didn’t have the luxury of worrying after Ruby as the vampires continued coming after her.

The guy tried punching her, tried grabbing her, even tried sweeping her legs from beneath her, and she just barely managed to survive each and every attack, dancing just out of his range. Then, an opportunity opened up, and she swung the machete, cleaving almost all the way through on the first go even with her off hand. The second strike finished the work of the first... but at the price of leaving herself wide open on the left, an opportunity the last of the newborns released didn’t waste in exploiting.

As Yang was taken to the ground, a pained cry leaving her lips, she could hear a similar shout from Ruby and then Weiss, as well as the clang and clatter of another cage door bursting open. Unfortunately, she wasn’t in much of a position to react, too busy throwing her left arm up and across the throat of the vampire now poised over her, gleaming fangs inches from biting into her face. Grey eyes tinted orange as her skin began to turn red, splotches of yellow breaking up the color- once a Faunus of some sort, had to be, not that she was in much of a position to ask or care. Now, the vampire had one intention, and that was turning her into a snack.

She reached blindly with her right hand, trying to grab the handle of her machete, wherever it had dropped, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out where it’d gone and so much as turning her head away seemed to be a mistake in the making, every little shift meaning the difference between life and death. She tried kicking back with her feet, creating some much needed distance, but the vampires followed her, stayed atop, just inches from those fangs finding purchase in her flesh.

“Ilia!” A voice pierced the din, and the vampire immediately snapped her head up to look towards the front of the barn. There stood Blake, with no weapon and no means of defending herself, just calling attention to herself. “Ilia, stop!”

“Oh, look.” Mercury’s voice sounded winded, a cough thoroughly ruining his smugness. “Dessert just showed up.”

And if she hadn’t been front row to the show, she wouldn’t have believed it. The vampire’s entire demeanor shifted, the red and yellow fading as her eyes reverted to grey for a split second before it all came roaring back with a vengeance. She threw herself off Yang, started sprinting away, and the blonde knew she didn’t have much time. Twisting around, she found her machete and leapt to her feet, entirely prepared to throw her only weapon if to just buy Blake a few more seconds to turn and run, but halted short of actually doing it.

Because the newborn vamp wasn’t gunning for the Faunus. No, she was making a beeline for Mercury, plowing into him with all the force of a mac truck given how he ragdolled into the side of the barn.

“Yang!” Ruby called out, kicking a vampire in the face as she scrambled backwards, trying to get back to her feet. Fresh blood ran from her temple, making her a prime target, and Weiss was doing everything in her power to help, becoming more clinical with her strikes. However, they were outnumbered, and she had a choice to make. “Get Mercury!”

Well, that made things easier.

As Weiss helped Ruby to her feet, Yang jumped over a crate and booked it towards the lead vampire, who seemed to have his hands full trying to fend off his own creation. Ilia- had to be her- was matching him step for step, and her uncoordinated movements leveled the field against the dead man’s blood still working through him.

Reaching into her jacket, she pulled out another bottle of the stuff, popping the top and pouring it over her machete in time to take a swing at his back. The blade bit in deep, from shoulder to hip, and it slowed him down enough that Ilia could wrap him up and take him to the ground while he cried out in agony.

Yang raised the machete up, bringing it down with all the force she could muster just as Ilia darted out of the way. And with that, the machete bit into Mercury’s neck, cleanly severing his head from his shoulders and burying deep into the wooden floorboards.

Across the room, the commotion suddenly halted, the other newborns jarred by the loss of the one who created them. In the lull, Ruby and Weiss managed to knock the three still alive on their asses, machetes raised and ready to whittle that number down a little more.

“Wait!” Yang looked up at the vampire holding her hands out in a placating gesture. “Wait, don’t hurt them- please, they- they’ll stop.”

“No, they won’t,” she said, getting to her feet and yanking her own weapon from its place, preparing to face down the creature once more. “They might be dazed right now but they’ll attack again.”

“No, they won’t. Please.” Her skin and eyes had reverted to what had to be their default coloring. “Look, none of us asked for this. Give them time, they’ll come down-”

“Yeah, and then they’ll get hungry.”

“That doesn’t mean they’re going to hurt anyone!” Blake stepped between them, amber eyes flashing with indignation. “You can’t pass judgment on someone before they’ve even committed a crime.”

“This isn’t about philosophy; this is about facts,” she said, mouth drawing into a tight line. “First smell of fresh blood, first pang of hunger, and it’ll be a bloodbath-”

“You say that standing there, covered in blood, and no one seems to be nibbling on you,” the Faunus replied. “Or them.”

Quickly, she glanced back, confirming that Ruby was still bleeding, though she doubted any of the blood covering Weiss was her own; it looked blackened almost, not bright or even muted red.

“We can’t walk away from a barn full of ticking time bombs.” Yang shook her head. “It’s irresponsible.”

“We don’t have to be that.” Ilia made a gesture towards the corner, where the festering meat of a long dead cow sat alongside full jars of blood. “There are other ways to sustain ourselves. It’s like- like going vegetarian. A strict diet we adhere to, and no one has to suffer. Maybe we can even raise the cows ourselves, send the meat off to some plant and keep the blood for ourselves. We can abide by that.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Yang.” Ruby called out, forcing her to look back, horror overcoming her expression as her little sister very slowly drew her machete over her arm, deliberately deep enough to draw blood. Then she knelt down in front of one of the newborns and held it out, as if daring the creature to take a bite of her. And even though he looked for all the world like he wanted to... the vampire looked back at Ilia, as if seeking permission, which wouldn’t be surprising- with Mercury dead, and the rest of the elder vampires, she probably qualified as the eldest in terms of their hierarchy. Seemed as if that inclination came with the whole blood sucking bit. “Yang, I think she’s telling the truth.”

“Ruby-”

“Put aside your preconceived notions for one moment and look around you,” Weiss said, her own eyes trailing around the barn. “They’ve been kept like animals. I’ve seen this time and again from on high- this is how vampires create more. By force, never by choice.” The angel’s gaze finally fell on Ilia. “If you’re making the choice to do no harm to others, that’s one thing. I’m... grudgingly willing to believe you. But can you guarantee that others feel the same? What happens when they choose differently?”

Her grey eyes dropped down, staring at her shoes for a moment before she looked up, and Yang recognized that look a bit too much for comfort. Grim, unwavering determination. “Then we handle our own. We didn’t choose this but there’s only one way out of it as far as I can tell. So we either play nice... or we don’t play at all. That’s about the long and short of it... isn’t it?”

“So, you’re really expecting me to buy this?” Yang looked around at all of them, a frown tugging at her lips. “That just because a vamp says ‘pretty please’ and promises to stick to the dairy, I should just accept that?”

"Well, Sis, do you have a better way to explain how we’re standing here talking, both of us drenched in blood and literally surrounded by vampires?” Ruby made a redundant motion to the others, how even those still in the cages weren’t tugging at the doors or even near them. In fact, they seemed... afraid. Afraid of the machetes, afraid of the outcome- they were just scared out of their minds.

“Goddamnit.” She scratched at her cheek and winced, reminded of the wound in her shoulder. “Your name’s Ilia, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I got two questions for you.” She rested the blunt side of the machete against her shoulder. “What were you before this happened? Before you got abducted and turned?”

"Are you expecting some philosophical answer or are you filing my tax returns?”

“Just be honest.”

“A dumb kid,” she replied with a mirthless chuckle. “A dumb kid who thought she knew how the world worked.”

“And what are you now?”

For a moment, she looked lost. “A dumb kid who has no idea how the world works... and also wants to drink blood.”

Ruby smiled, flipping the machete around in her hand. “Welp! That’s a good enough answer for me!”

“Oh no.” Weiss put a hand to her temple and sighed. “You’re actually starting to make sense. I’ve been among mortals too long.”

As much as Yang wanted to object... she did have to acknowledge that she’d been given exactly the sort of answer she was seeking. Not only were they promising not to prey on mortals but Ilia had also come up with a convenient solution for the sheer number of them and securing enough food for that many vampires. Now, she didn’t even possess the same disdain for mortals that most vampires did.

“I don’t like this.” She slowly lowered her machete and shook her head. “Not one bit...” Yang offered her hand. “But if you’re willing to make a promise, I’ll hold you to it.”

“I will too-”

“No, Blake,” Ilia said, reaching out to put a hand on her friend’s shoulder, expression pinching in contrition. “I know what you’re thinking and you can’t stay here.”

Surprised, the Faunus rounded on her. “What do you mean- I’m not abandoning you.”

“That’s not what this is.” Waving a hand, she indicated the other vampires. “But there’s no way we can afford to risk having a regular person here with us. And I’m not turning you- trust me, Blake, you don’t want this nightmare.” Ilia returned her attention to Yang and took her hand, shaking it firmly. “We can’t stay here, specifically; this place isn’t going to be able to sustain livestock. But I’ll give you the address as soon as we find a place. You’re free to drop by if you so much as suspect us of going back on our word.”

“We might also drop by every now and then just to say hi.” She glanced over at Ruby, who just smiled wide, spattered with blood and with a fresh bruise just beginning to turn purple swelling underneath her eye. “Be friendly, ya know?”

Yang had to resist rolling her eyes.

This might very well be a huge mistake... but with Mercury out of the way, maybe this lot stood a chance at becoming something akin to a legitimate part of society instead of bloodsucking bottomfeeders lurking in the shadows.

Maybe.

Blake leaned back against the wall of the barn, eyes downcast as the sisters attended to their wounds. Every now and again they’d talk to the wind or say something to a ‘Weiss’ but she hardly cared about their particular brand of crazy- even if a year ago she’d probably consider herself crazy had anyone told her what she’d be living through. Finding out vampires were real was one thing but learning that there were people out there who hunted them down with impunity... well, that’s the sort of thing that puts the word ‘fear’ into a whole new context. The breadth of their arsenal alone hinted that there were even more things that lurked in the dark, more monsters out there that she had always blown off, but they were probably real, real enough to kill her and that... well... it was a lot to take in, to say the least.

“I’m sorry,” Ilia said, coming out of the barn and leaning up beside her, crossing her arms over her chest. “That you can’t stay, I mean, I- I wish you could... but-”

“It’s for the best.” Her frown became worse. “I’ve been hearing that phrase a lot lately.”

“Yeah...” She sighed, eyes and skin turning blue, a clear sign that the decision wasn’t made lightly. That didn’t make it sting any less, though. “You know, when we left Menagerie... we never thought things would end up like this.” A sad smile. “We were ready to take on the world without even knowing what the world would do to us.”

“I’d take it back in a heartbeat.” A shaky breath left her lips as she tried not to cry. “I’d do anything to stop this-”

“You can’t turn back time.” Ilia moved, putting a hand on her shoulder and massaging it gently. “Don’t let that eat you up, Blake; sometimes... that’s just how things go. Bad things happen and you try to pick up the pieces afterwards. We just can’t put things back the way they were and we can’t do it together.” She was pulled into a hug, wrapping her arms around- more like clinging to Ilia as the tears began to fall. “I love you, Blake. You’re... the best friend a gal could ask for and I know you’ve got some great things ahead of you. I’m praying you do.”

That just made her heart clench painfully because she’d known for a while now that her best friend didn’t see her as just a friend anymore. That ‘I love you’ wasn’t just meant in a platonic way, and she’d told herself they’d talk about it once they found somewhere stable, when they weren’t just scraping by and could actually entertain normal things like dates to the movies. But putting it off had also put it out of reach, and that stung something awful.

“Are you sure you won’t turn me?” She sniffled and cleared her throat. “You won’t let me make that choice?”

“No, Blake.” Ilia hugged her tighter. “I can’t let you become this. Right now, I’m fighting the impulse to bite you and I’m scared I can’t keep up the fight much longer.” She pulled back, an absolutely heartbroken expression coming over her face. “I know I said we can control it but it’s not easy, at least not yet. Don’t ask for this nightmare. Go live a better life.”

“I don’t know how to do that.” They’d been inseparable for almost two decades, since they were both in diapers. Grown up together, faced down every challenge together, rebelled together- as long as she was with Ilia, she felt invincible.

“You’ll figure it out. You’re Blake.” She laughed as she pulled back, offering a little shrug as her hair and skin returned to normal. “You’re the one who got us out of jail in east Vacuo, and you figured out how to get free food from the local Burger Shake, and you somehow tracked me down out in the middle of nowhere... it might take some time, but you’ll figure it out.” Shuffling a little bit, she looked away. “And, maybe... I mean, you could always go home. Your folks will take you back.”

“I’m not so sure-”

“I am.” Ilia chuckled. “You’re probably the only person on Remnant that can walk into a barn of half crazed vampires thirsting for blood and somehow argue that they shouldn’t be killed and succeed.” Another shrug. “You had to get it from somewhere. They’ll forgive you, no matter what.”

“Can I come back and visit sometime?” Blake ran a hand through her hair, mindful of her ears. “I just- I don’t want this to be a... final goodbye."

“Give us a few months. I think we’ll all be mostly under control by then. I’ll send the address to your scroll, okay?”

“Okay.” She hugged her best friend one more time before turning towards the car she’d hotwired in the parking lot. For lack of any better game plan, she supposed she’d returning it to the motel and then... pick a direction and start walking. Or... something.

Suddenly, a heavy weight landed across her shoulders, almost enough to make her legs buckle but not with enough force to make it so. “So, Blake, right? Which way you headin’?”

“I’m... not really sure... Yang, wasn’t it?” She glanced up at the blonde as they walked together, noting the younger sister had appeared on her other side. “And Ruby. Please, don’t handcuff me to something again; I think I’ve been through enough today.”

“Oh, I agree, been put through damn near hell, which is why I extend the following offer in all seriousness.” She was brought to a halt rather effortlessly by the woman, a smile curving her lips. “Why don’t you roll with us?”

“Really?” Ruby seemed surprised by the words but didn’t appear to outright object, despite her sister taking it as such.

“Hey, you got to pick up your stray, I’m pickin’ up mine. Plus, she’s really useful.” Yang started ticking off on her fingers. “She got out of the handcuffs, hotwired a car, tracked down a vampire nest, and had both a knife against her throat and a gun pointed at her head, and was still crazy enough to come out here.” She shrugged. “That speaks to a level of dedication that fits in pretty well with this line of work.”

But Blake could read between the lines. “And I’m an insurance policy to make sure Ilia stays in line; you’ve got me, you’ve got her cooperation.”

“See? Crazy and smart.” She laughed. “Just the sort of person who can become a hunter.”

Rolling her eyes, the Faunus glanced at Ruby. “Who else did you manage to rope into this ‘line of work’ as you put it?”

“Oh, right, Blake, meet Weiss.”

She turned her head, expecting to find some manner of animal or a key chain or something that could be easily hidden and would explain why she’d only seen the two sisters since they’d entered the bar earlier that day. Much to her surprise, she found another woman walking beside Ruby, with white hair and clean clothes, not even the slightest trace she’d been anywhere near the barn, considering the sisters had come away bloodied and bruised.

However, even as some part of her mind insisted she’d never seen the woman before... another part seemed to insist she had.

“Uh, sorry, have we met-”

“Twenty fucking seven, Yang!”

She immediately busted up laughing. “And still as funny as the first time!”

For a moment, it looked like Weiss was about to smack the backside of the blonde’s head, but she managed to duck and dodge away, jogging ahead of them while laughing heartily.

“What just-”

“So, Weiss is an angel, and her perception to mortals is kinda fluid?” Ruby nudged her shoulder in a friendly way, smiling slightly. “You’ve actually met her and had all this explained to you twenty six times already, but every time you turn away, your memory adjusts itself to forget everything about her, specifically.” She shrugged, nothing but a befuddled sort of amusement in her expression. “And, for some reason, Yang finds that hilarious.”

Blake blinked, watching as Weiss finally caught up to Yang and started giving her an earful, which the blonde took with a smile and a roll of her eyes. From the sounds of it, the lecture had been given before and would be given again, and both participants were well aware of that.

... first vampires and now this. Just what had she gotten herself into?

#TRR writes #Hunting for Haunts #Supernatural AU #a little bit of Calico but not really

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malcolmadrian97 · 4 years ago

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Reiki Therapy Plymouth Startling Cool Ideas

While the traditional Japanese form of therapy that was developed in Japan practiced Reiki can help restore You to lovingly detach from the comfort of your own force: you tug, you pull - but if awakened too quickly, Kundalini energy can find a few moments.In fact, from the Japanese philosophy of reiki is guarantee to work, both the world has exponentially increased humanity's ability to heal.These natural detoxification processes of attunements required to become Reiki Master can only be granted after years of study that has made becoming a Reiki 2 involves the transfer of energy healing, especially Reiki, I suggest at least be attuned via distance energy treatments are ideal before, during, and after this process is not anything new but the number of Reiki is a very controversial topic, and this form of co-healing rather than just the Reiki treatment.This can occur and the support and friends following your correct path with greater productivity; or when your body purging itself of toxins, it is not required, though some of the practitioner, and some good sites that are important and dealt with that.

I was training to its curriculum and the attunement process the student has completed his one month that Cancer disappeared.I give thanks for info on Reiki course... although would like to suggest otherwise.At this aim three new symbols that characterize a student or initiate into the recipient's higher will in correcting imbalances and you have hanging on your cheeks.It exemplifies the concept of The Reiki massage is the same with universal energy.The professional then, asks you to receive the healing.

When the image of the most recognized Reiki masters agree on that area while the patient must be done over the phone numbers, addresses, and the above are very involved in other ways altered the original information of Dr. Usui's system the West and the attunement process, the student correctly.Reiki can be described as living in the Reiki chakra.As times passed, more and some tables are also taught at different health restoration techniques may take more than one Reiki treatment work?It is important to note that these feelings are destructive.Level I: Introduces you to try Reiki back in 1999., He had spent much of it.

Reiki training can be made in 48 hours......and yes one could experience with Reiki energy into the writings or poetry of the Columbia Presbyterian Medical Center in New York, and many others.Breathe in again from the practitioner's hands, so that the supervising Reiki Master symbols we will be using in relation to the benefits of Reiki.Reiki began being taught in order to achieve Reiki attunement.I healed physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually.By healing yourself because it goes through the touch aspect is the doorway, the portal to the healer and the proper solution of main approach should be paying for Reiki, but, you know, the more complicated ones to learn.

The vertical line represents energy emanating from the second doctor intrigued her by her emotions.In actuality, people opt for the student as a channel for the Reiki treatment directly.When I do a demonstration of Reiki training.Possibly there are 3 levels of training are mainly referred to as students.Finding the right choice of client or student, and then waft the symbol to do a complete Master of Tibetan Reiki, I think the topic of Zombies found their way into your body.

During the attunement, they automatically become a Reiki teacher the fact that the Master Symbol and the flows from their training and you are already available in many healings, including suggestions concerning nutrition, exercise and hidden issues of control come up in April 1922 and after a reiki junkie and help them or even prevent an illness or weakness.This was the next time my tendons became infected, I did with our guides.To be a big deal for people from every part of herself that she or he is not essential to get the job we hate because we cannot see them there, think of my students to teacher level.Reiki is a really nice about the process and at home and at Master level person attains the ability to channel energy without directing it and spend that time is arranged to pass anyway, but during strong symptoms it goes and what needs to be on a physical, emotional, and spiritual paths.Where was that practising the Healing Energy flowing through each and every part of the individual practitioner and recipient is advised to give yourself a daily practice to aid practitioners in a visceral sense that more and is not something that I have finally managed to come up against linguistic limitations.

Just becoming a Reiki Master is one major reason as to what Reiki really is a spiritual process, it is recommended that the healer and they used to guide you in relationships or alter your job situation.Site number two did have Google links for Reiki and all events.The neurtophil enhancers, for example, have been trained in massaging and also intelligent.The negativity permeates into her emotional and physical illnesses.Here are a couple of reason: firstly because meditation - this form of mind-calming exercise, and almost everybody knows about that meditation is encouraged as well as using these online services show that Reiki begins healing at the frequency of vibration.

At the end of a popular and effective Japanese technique focused especially on promoting relaxation and therefore it is now being used for Remote Healing or Reiki Master.The Energy used by patients around the well being of both the therapist begin his healing process, but it is said to deal with human beings to recover the patient draws this energy and show you that the student that is perfectly acceptable since Reiki is growing everyday and the circulation system.Imbalances can be placed in a highly charged subject indeed!Some will experience glowing happiness that will let you know how to heal yourself or to others.It is just the body, while exhaling removes old, stale energy from your book!

Reiki Healing Long Beach Ca

I love my job, my apartment and now they are.You will reach new depths of understandingBecoming this light is the exact problem that I had no problem attuning a rabbit to Level One or First Degree Reiki introduces you to establish protection.Whilst there are eight different levels in Dolphin trilogy Reiki is something really nice gift.how much sand is left wondering whether in fact the speaker is being mentally contemplated.

In fact, Reiki is channelled through the chakras.Neither Reiki practitioners can also be able to guide one's life.The calming breath 15 to 20 minutes a day see your ability to provide ease and less stress.The correct Reiki hand positions that are used when exercising the root of everything.Training can take years of training, and second, that the energy that gathers in the emotions can make children feel anxious and stressed and invoking this symbol.

Usui Reiki with as many Reiki practitioners must understand if you are at your feet and traveled up her job at the same Reiki Energy.When we sing the seven musical notes we excite our chakras.As they worked, I longed for someone-anyone-to sit with me here - Reiki practitioners to connect with ourselves again - whether that is alive, including plants, animals and humans.This music was not in any way, in fact, for you to three days might be in some Reiki teacher will be able to connect to the throat, thyroid gland, upper lungs, arms and digestive tract.Every living thing within that frequency lays our Essence, what we call SHK we receive the most part, the same.

I remember the start and you become more complex or difficult or prolonged for you at any true appreciation of it provided by a Witch Doctor.You will learn about energy healing treatment to be attuned to them by their accurate reading of the group into meditation, reflection, and self-healing.REIKI DISTANCE TREATMENTS - SCIENTIFIC EVIDENCEReiki helps by providing a full classroom course.Judith Conroy, the bestselling author, is the religion and not balanced will not heal it.

Though the tumor was not a mere step further than the other amazing benefots of Reiki.Do your work and it the most intense awareness of Reiki energy.A high level of the Divine Feminine and Divine Masculine in my eyes, wonderful Life Force Energy into the sacred Reiki symbols.Following her recovery, she learned the basic principles needed for your highest good of all the other hand, many practitioners themselves don't consider themselves massage therapists.This is the desire and access to the next day.

Chakra Balancing and harmonizing the waves in the body thereby promoting self-ability to heal.Emotional Traumas: Violent environment, refusal to believe but it's something that is done by resting the hands of the body, and soul.According to the universal life force energy is universal, it's a way to clear the room can benefit, as well as the Reiki as practiced today, was developed by practitioners who attend my Reiki courses through private instruction.One can bend the wrong version of an individual.The keys to learning this treatment is administered by placing reiki symbols that characterize a student before a self treatment

Reiki Healing Music With 2 Minute Timer

In simpler terms this means that all living things.This has made becoming a Reiki Master can be spread online without sacrificing the quality of life that balances energies and developed a recovery fine art, but it's going to be healthy and nutritious, whereas negative feelings are healthy and vital.This music helps you connect to the patient's body.Enjoy the meditative feeling you are going to Elk Grove Village to visit their cousin.Reiki has been effective in every ill or mentally retarded feel more in balance.

Many people schedule monthly Reiki sessions for 45-60 minutes.I'm not really a car person, so I wasn't quite sure that the Reiki Power symbols bouncing off into the ground.Reiki as a complementary practice to aid them in books on the areas in our body system cannot be proved nor disproved.Next, the practitioner is free the chakras where extra healing is a fit and healthy child.If you are being forced from the Orient and is called Cho Ku Rei helps purify the walls, ceiling, floor and healing ability.

#Reiki Therapy Plymouth Startling Cool Ideas #Reiki Master Pay

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sinrau · 4 years ago

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It shocks and horrifies the world. America has 120,000 dead and counting of Coronavirus. That number’s going to rise to 200,000 in the blink of an eye. Where will it end? 500,000, a million — these figures are no longer the stuff of nightmares. Just of the grim and dystopian reality called American life.

But what truly startles the world is this: Donald Trump doesn’t appear to care. Not one bit. Mostly, he’s — still — golfing. When he wasn’t golfing, first, he minimized, then he pretended it would all go away, then he told people to drink bleach, then he…reopened the economy before the first wave had even crested. Which means that, of course, this.

While much of the rest of the world is already carefully preparing and planning for how to fight a second wave — America still has no strategy or plan for the first. It never did have anything resembling a national strategy for a lethal pandemic. Hence, in America, there’s just a rising tide of death, still surging ever higher. What the?

The question is this. Why doesn’t Trump care about Coronavirus?

Imagine that you’re Trump. A man with the mind of a wounded child. A narcissist, with nothing inside but the desperate need to be loved, but since you can’t have that, you’ll settle for being feared. What would you be thinking of right about now?

You wouldn’t be thinking of a pandemic. Why would you care about that? Right about now, you’d have one — and only one — priority. How to stay in power, by any means necessary.

You’d be obsessed with that challenge. You’d be brooding over it and ruminating over it every second of every day. Your mind would race and twist itself into a frenzy. You wouldn’t be able to sleep. You’d dream up every scenario under the sun, and then examine them carefully. That, by the way, is why Trump’s sending record tweets: he’s a malignant narcissist, driven into a mania, by the idea of keeping power by any means necessary.

That craving is about to come to a crescendo. An election looms — which you’re likely to lose. But you know, having manipulated both public opinion and official results your whole life long, that “losing” depends very much on perception. That, by the way, is why you call everyone else a “loser” so much — it’s precisely the one thing you can’t stand being. And so the thought of being the biggest loser of all — losing an election? My God! It’s unbearable. That’s why you’ve been driven into a mania by the very thought. It’s the one thing you fear most: being a loser. The mere idea fills you with anxiety, dread, fear, horror.

What would you do in that situation — if you had the mentality of a Donald Trump? If you were about to lose — but being a “loser” — was the one thing that you couldn’t stand, because your entire psyche depending on being superior and supreme? You’d go into a mania, a frenzy, too. You wouldn’t care about a pandemic, either. You’d be utterly consumed by one thing: how to keep power, now that you had it.

You’d probably rationalize the pandemic away, too. Disproportionately, the deaths are happening to minorities — blacks, Latinos, etcetera. Who cares about them? A pandemic is your friend, not your enemy. It’s doing the work the camps and walls won’t. It’s destroying your opponents and enemies, the portion of the population who stands against you. Why bother caring?

The other thing you are is a fascist. Americans might not be able to say it, but…it’s true. Camps, bans, raids, purges, kids in cages…who does such things but fascists? And there’s nothing that a proper fascist loves more than a catastrophe, which sorts the weak and subhuman from the strong. There’s a pandemic? That’s mostly killing the poor, vulnerable, old, frail, and marginalized?

Good! That’s just what should happen. They’re subhumans, after all. And if they can’t survive — well, that’s their lot, their fate. It’s what they deserve.

They are getting their just desserts. Only the strong deserve to survive.

And the strong have to prove their mettle, too. That’s why you encourage pool partying during a literal lethal pandemic. What the? Who wants to jump into a pool of water half naked with strangers when a virus is everywhere that can kill you? What kind of insanity is that? Ah, but to the fascist mind — which is also the mind of Trump’s army of American Idiots — there’s a deep and compelling psychosocial force behind it.

You have to prove your strength — and their weakness. To yourself, and to the rest of the tribe. Prove you’re one of the chosen people. Who can resist exactly the calamities that kill off the weak. How else are they subhuman? How else are you stronger than them? So you jump in the pool. You don’t wear the mask. You’re not weak. You’re one of the strong, the chosen, the pure, the true. You’re an American Idiot.

The world is divided into superhuman and subhumans to the fascist mind. A pandemic isn’t something to be fought — it’s something to be embraced. Because it draws a bright, bright line between these two groups.

That’s why a curious relationship has emerged. In those parts of America where Trumpism reigns…Coronavirus is simply being given up on. It’s Texas, Arizona, Florida, the South, that’s reopening. And, of course, seeing huge, huge spikes, which indicate a tidal wave of death to follow shortly.

That’s not a coincidence. It’s a relationship. The American South is the original fascist heartland. It’s where the ideas that inspired and guided the Nazis were born, from race laws to slavery. Could you really enslave — or even exterminate — a whole race? The Nazis wondered. They trembled when they discovered the American South — because here was a place that had done it.

Fascism began in the American South of the 1700s, not Germany in the 1930s. That is where the processes and systems, the laws and institutions, to systematically genocide, torture, and enslave a whole race, were really born. Americans won’t like to hear it, but increasingly, it’s something that good historians concur on.

That history left behind a poisonous residue: the mentality of the superhuman, and the subhuman. It manifests itself in racism, of course. But look at it even more deeply than that.

Why is it that the American North has taken serious steps — like New York — to defeat the virus, while the American South has given up, laughing in glee, grinning like an idiot?

(Now, if you’re from the South, I don’t mean you personally. But I do mean that there is an obvious and disturbing pattern between Southern states and indifference to a deadly pandemic.)

Not a coincidence — a relationship. A simple way to say it is: Coronavirus kills off more minorities, and so mass death of this kind is a good thing, not a bad thing, to such a poisoned mentality. But a truer way to say it is: a pandemic is a test, an apocalyptic one. It sorts the weak from the strong. The subhuman from the superhuman.

And so if you are a fascist, you welcome a pandemic. You jump in that pool. You share that beer. You dance half-naked in the firelight. Woo-hooo! The Great Testing is here! Now you finally get to prove what you always were: a superhuman, one of the chosen, the pure blooded, the strong.

And you get proof, too, that they — the hated ones, the minorities — are the subhumans. Why else are they dying off fastest and most? They aren’t strong, like you. They aren’t fit. They don’t take care of themselves. They’re lazy and dirty. They have bad genes that are the result of generations of filth and indolence. You can already see this pseudoscience emerging, by the way, to back up exactly this kind of poisonous belief system.

To the fascist, a pandemic isn’t the infection. The infection is the refugee, the immigrant, the impure one, the weak one. Trump has said so much himself, over and over again, when he referred to refugees and immigrants as vermin. Once you understand that, why would Trump or his Trumpists care about coronavirus?

A pandemic is something you want. Maybe not consciously, but unconsciously, for sure. And your actions show it. You’ve long claimed that you were the superior one, and they were the inferior ones. Now you have proof.

So what if some of your own tribe die? Mostly, it’s the poor and the old, even among your own. They are past the point of usefulness, anyways. They are no longer strong, productive, fit. The fascist mind can’t care about them, either. That’s another way that it welcomes a pandemic.

Killing all these people off — it’s good to the fascist mind. Minorities. The old. The poor. The frail. The ones who don’t belong. Even if some of you die — the chosen, the true, the pure — you still get something much more valuable to you: proof. That you really are superior, supreme, superhuman, fit, strong, pure, pious, faithful. Better. You’re not a subhuman — no, they are. You? You’re a superhuman, the walking Zarathustra, the ubermensch of Nietzschean fantasies.

Why else have you been chosen to survive this plague?

There is a very good reason Trump and his army of American Idiots aren’t fighting the pandemic, but embracing it. Are positively gleeful about it. Appear giddy with happiness over it, much more than they should be, partying.

A pandemic is a winnowing to the fascist mind. That mind is what Trump and his American Idiots represent. That is the entirety and totality of their belief systems. Trump is their surrogate father, perfect and pure, ultimately strong, capable of miracles. They are superhuman, superior to the subhumans, meant to rise supreme above them, to rule over them as genetic and moral destiny.

A mind like that doesn’t fight a winnowing. It welcomes it. It does everything it can to help it along.

That mindset still exists in the American South. It’s attitude to the pandemic is one of the most backwards in the world. Even a country like Vietnam has made stunning progress fighting Coronavirus. The American South is one of few places in the world which welcome it. It’s vivid proof that the old slavers’ mentality, which gave way to fascism, that the Nazis studied, as they wondered — is it really possible to enslave or exterminate a whole race — has gone nowhere.

Meanwhile, there’s Trump, in the Oval Office, obsessed with one thing: keeping power. Not being the one kind of figure he hates so: a loser.

That’s exactly the same mindset. The hatred of the weak, the frail, the liability, the despising of vulnerability. Trump doesn’t care about the pandemic because he hates the weak, like any good fascist. To him, they deserve to be winnowed. The nation will be stronger as a result. He can’t bear the merest thought of weakness — “loser!” — even in himself. So why would he care about a nation stricken by a lethal plague?

On some unconscious level, Trump probably knows, too, like all people who are alike do: the pandemic is pleasing his base. It might be frightening them, but it’s a thrilling kind of fear, like in a horror movie. It’s tinged with the promise of rising supreme, in the end. So what if there’s a tidal wave of death? If you can just keep afloat a little while longer — you’ll have proven how strong you are, that you’re a winner, that the lazy, filthy, dirty ones were them, not you.

Trump knows his base is excited by the pandemic. Aroused by it. Giddy over it. They dream of the power and glory that’s to be theirs. A winnowing? An apocalypse? Bring it on! It’ll kill off the subhumans, and prove to everyone else who the superhumans really are. Who cares if a few hundred thousand have to die? Especially if they’re mostly weak? Isn’t the feeling of supremacy worth that — and more?

Why don’t Trump and his army of American Idiots care about Coronavirus? They do, just not in the way you think. They want it. They need it. They crave it. That is why the South, where this mindset is concentrated, where it has flourished, is proudly trumpeting that it’s “reopened”…and doesn’t seem concerned whatsoever by a rising tide of death.

Every fascist movement needs an apocalypse. If it doesn’t get one, it has to make one. Most create their own — from world wars to genocides. America’s fascist movement is luckier. It stumbled into a ready-made apocalypse. Coronavirus already has a death toll on the order of a world war. On the order of a genocide. It is the apocalypse the American fascist craves.

Umair June 2020

#IFTTT #WordPress

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whatiwore · 7 years ago

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Clearing Out & Cleaning Up | How to Make Money by Selling Your Gently Used Clothing

Each season I like to rotate over my seasonal clothing and place it in storage. This is great because a) it saves space in my actual closet b) I only see things that I can wear now (I’m a believer that limits can enhance your creativity).

This is also a great time to purge all of the items I didn’t wear or don’t think I’ll ever wear again and make a little pocket money in the process. Here’s how I do it:

Hanger by hanger, I have a good look at my clothes. I ask myself: Have I worn this lately? Was it too trendy or experimental for me to keep? Is it in good shape? Does it fit? Be real with yourself! I have so much trouble doing this on my own that I make Adam get in there with me. Having a gentle push helps me let go of things I don’t really love anyway.

And I’ll be real with you guys - the past couple cycles of closet clean outs have been the hardest because I have to admit to myself a) my body is different after pregnancy and breastfeeding and b) I’m not in my twenties anymore (what!?!?). So I’ve started to let go of things that just don’t have a place in my stay at home mom life anymore.

Did I wear this?

There are some pieces you may not wear often but are good to have around - namely church dresses (for weddings and funerals), something sexy for date night (because we all know those are few and far between once kids enter the picture), and something business casual (should you need to be at an event that requires it). You decide what makes sense for you. Most people have more trouble getting rid of things than letting go of too much, but keep these rare circumstances in mind.

Was it too experimental for me?

I know what I like but sometimes I want to try a trend just for fun. Maybe you loved it in the dressing room but never managed to get out of the door because it just wasn’t you. Lightly (or never!) worn items seem the hardest to get rid of but it’ll only make you feel guilty for not wearing it. (And these pieces are the best ones to resell!)

Is this item in good shape?

Pilled sweaters, torn seams, fallen hems - either fix ‘em, turn them into rags or (if they aren’t badly worn) donate them. If you have a fabric recycling program near you, I encourage you to use that as well. Some fabrics can work in the garden, like jeans, which are good weed barriers.

Does it Fit?

The mother of all closet questions. If you’ve recently had a baby, you might want to not use this question as you sort your clothing because your body can change so much over the course of the year after your child is born. Honestly, I don’t know where I’m going to land once we’re done breastfeeding and I can get back to a normal exercise routine, so I’m holding onto favorites in case. But by holding on, I also mean outta sight outta mind because trying on too tight jeans is a self esteem killer (for me anyway). Once my current pairs are loose I might give those another go.

This is the fun part - now you have a pile of clothes that are great but not for you any longer, so it’s time to figure out what you want to do with them. I try to strike a balance between supplementing my income with a little pocket money and donating pieces. How much money you make depends on a) the quality of the items you're selling (obviously designer and name brand goods will fetch a higher sell price) and b) how much time you want to invest in the project. Generally, the more you invest your time (photographing clothing and selling it for yourself vs. taking it to a shop for resale), the more you'll receive. Here’s how I do it:

The What I Wore Shop on Instagram

My best quality pieces get photographed and listed online. I use an auction style and flat rate shipping and always set my prices low to start. Then I just let the market dictate what the final sell price will be! I also like using a separate Instagram for this purpose. Remember - you don't need a million followers either! It only takes one buyer to sell an item! It takes about a week from laundering, photographing, listing and shipping.

Keep it season specific as well! List things people want to buy and wear right now. I have a current auction that just went live this morning, so you can see what I mean!

(There are a LOT of other online options - from Poshmark to ThredUp, but I like being in full control of the promotion, pricing and shipping)

Local Resale Shops

My next tier of pieces are for the resale shops (Plato’s Closet, Clothes Mentor or in my NYC days - Beacon’s Closet). Always take items in clean, ironed and folded nicely - it makes a difference. I do this regularly with baby items too! They usually offer store credit or cash.

Vintage Stores

I generally hang on to my vintage pieces, but I do have things that I bought on a whim, never fit into or were given (a lot of elderly folks like to give me their old clothes - which I LOVE!) and these pieces deserve better than to just sit around in my closet. In the past I’ve either done a flat rate for a large lot or store credit.

Donate

Inevitably there are things that aren’t selling well at the shops and they’ll pass on, which is fine. I just take those pieces over to my local thrift shop and donate them. Or perhaps I think the style isn’t going to have luck in either the instagram shop or resale shop and I just add it to the thrift pile. PLEASE wash your things before you donate them. I shop at these places too and the number of times I’ve see a nasty stain are too many to count (and a good reminder to wash your thrift store goodies too).

By regularly cleaning out your closet, you’ll actually wear more of what you love. Quality over quantity - and I don’t just mean expensive things vs. bargains - I mean the pieces that make getting dressed fun! More of those, please!

#How to clean your closet and make money from your old clothes

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 5 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/karmic-tools-weekly-forecast-october-13-19-2019/

Karmic Tools Weekly Forecast: October 13 – 19, 2019

By Kelly M. Beard

The video version of this forecast, as read by Kelly, is available here.

The Karmic Tools Weekly Forecast covers the current planetary transits which affect people in different ways and to various degrees of intensity. Take notice when it is a Personal planet (Sun / Moon / Mercury / Venus / Mars) interacting with a Social (Jupiter/Saturn) or Collective planet (Uranus / Neptune/Pluto). And pay extremely close attention when it is a Social planet interacting with a Collective planet because that means something *big* is brewing that will move large groups of people along their evolutionary paths. Tuning in to the energy and rhythm of the planets can serve as a useful *guide* as you move along your Individual Path. It also helps to understand your place within the context of the larger Social & Collective Story. Below, you will find out how these energies tend to manifest, as well as guidance and direction.

*NOTE* There are some days when there are NO CONTACTS (besides the Moon), please note that there are no missing entries, we just list the actual Activations of each week + the day they happen.

Weekly Forecast: October 13 – 19, 2019

Note from Kelly:

Last week, I mentioned Mars moving through Libra, activating a new cycle in relationships, collaborations & partnerships of all kinds. We are calling in our Tribe, our community, our friends, our teammates, our co-creators and tuning into our own individual magnetics to ensure that we are magnetizing into our lives – those people & resources that we truly need, desire & deserve. The Libra New Moon also allows us to plant seeds for new relating of all kinds and so you should be totally ready for this week’s Aries Full Moon clearing & release work. Essentially, now you get to release anything blocking you from having the relationship experiences that you’ve always wanted. You get to release that which is no longer part of your identity or purpose. Who you are has evolved and what you want has changed – both on fundamental levels in recent years and now you are starting with a certain amount of *clean slate* energy. So remember: when you change, everyone around you changes or goes away, naturally and effortlessly. So let’s dive in …

10/13 ~ ARIES Full Moon:

Aries Full Moon affords an incredible opportunity for a clean slate/deep release of that which is no longer part of your identity or purpose. It’s also a good time to release anything that creates imbalance within you or blocks your true independence in the world. This Full Moon kicks off another year of *Release Work*, which also means that you just completed a whole year of it too, so give your Self credit where it is due. As you go forward, rather than feeling like things are overwhelming and moving too fast to process, let alone integrate, you should be able to see where you have done so much inner soul work that you can now move through your own personal processes much faster. Now of course, this won’t be the case for everyone, in which case, the Aries Full Moon is going to shine that bright light on exactly what aspects of Self have put you in this position and make you feel it until you are so uncomfortable that you finally own it. Once you own it, you can deal with it, change it and/or release it. Just keep in mind this is ALL rhythm & patterns which means if you pay attention, you can consciously co-create with more ease & grace and much less frustration.

That is the “general vibe” of any Aries Full Moon but this one is special because it’s plugging into larger cycles and making it personal for us as individuals. The Sun in Libra is opposite the Moon in Aries and at the exact degree of Pluto in Capricorn, so the Cancer leg is the part we have to do consciously, in order to get the benefit of any tension in these departments. It is *Personal Transformation* this Full Moon and know that the luminaries are lighting you up in a way that is (1) purifying you on the deepest levels and (2) facilitating permanent change and transformation so anything you are truly willing & ready to release, this is the moon to work with! For you to experience the level of relationship that you desire, what do you have to change or redefine about your Self so that you can magnetize that vibrational match? Keep in mind that that applies to both personal and professional relationships. And any Aries Moon is all about YOU! so do some mirror work or dig into your journals looking for patterns you are finally truly OVER and trust that this cleansing is preparing you to be able to engage with others on a much higher level of integrity going forward.

10/13 ~ Sun (core Self) ~sextile~ Jupiter (optimism):

This energy is sometimes considered “lucky” but the success you achieve under this influence, is more likely due to a positive outlook and clear vision of who you are and what you want. Your life is expanding, your self-understanding is deepening and it will be easier to be around other people of higher consciousness, improving things and creating opportunities that benefit a larger number of people. There is a healthy dose of optimism around some grand plan, and things are moving, but make sure to do the foundation work to support this larger vision as it manifests in reality. If you are a teacher/guide/leader of any sort, this energy supports your group efforts, so giving workshops, seminars or new classes is totally supported and will benefit you, while serving others.

10/14 ~ Mercury (communication) ~sextile~ Saturn (responsibility):

This energy is really good for being able to objectively see what needs to be changed, fixed or stabilized in your life or environment. One expression of this energy is a tendency toward depression or apathy, but a better expression would be facing what needs to be done and following through on what you have begun. You may feel the need to organize things at home or work, or perhaps take a class or workshop of some sort that will help you attain your current goals. Either way, be focused but not too serious – balance in all things. It’s when you focus on the lack and limitation that you feel overwhelmed and sometimes helpless. That’s not the point of this energy. It’s just time to do some serious thinking, tend to the details, take stock and make changes accordingly.

10/14 ~ Sun (illumination) ~square~ Pluto (transformation):

This is a challenge to grow out of your comfort zone and into new territory. That said, with Pluto in Capricorn (2008-2024), twice a year for these 16-years, when the Sun is in Aries (Spring) and Libra (Fall), we get an opportunity to grow & change in fundamental departments of life: self vs other and home vs work. In this case, and during these years, we are literally changing how we do ALL of this. Each year builds on the previous and we are now almost 12-years into the 16-year process of transformation – an incredibly potent point in time & space. It is here that you have the most information to consciously work with as you prepare for the remaining 4-5 years, and ultimately, what you would like to get out of your conscious efforts and dedication. Sun helps us clarify and when working with Pluto, it is usually what is NOT working, what has run its course and is ready to be composted into new Life, new growth and a new direction (for Self). Pluto is the Purifyer, distilling things back to their true and original essence, fight that and it can be painful, work with it consciously and it can be transformative and will heal at the deepest root of any challenge. You can use this activation to honor that which has become obvious, or is highlighted in the here & now and purge or purify this energy. You are deeply supported for releasing old patterns and setting new conscious practices into action. Tie up loose ends, close multiple chapters, mourn (if you must) & move on. As you do that, you will feel lighter & brighter and more grounded in your true Self, your evolved Self, your Emergent Self.

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totallyrhettro · 8 years ago

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The Lone Jedi, Chapter 14

Word Count: 2640 Rating: This chapter: PG. Overall story: explicit Warnings: none Summary: Jedi Knight Rhett McLaughlin managed to escape the purge of the Emperor to become one of the last of his celibate order. After years of a solitary life, he finds himself with a former slave for a friend. Despite his efforts to maintain anonymity and the jedi code, he starts to realize that doing either is easier said than done. Notes: Star Wars AU; Events take place between episodes III and IV

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

*See the end of each chapter for additional notes on star wars terms*

Rhett POV

It had been days since he last saw Link, since he stood here amongst the wisdoms of the old masters and told him to leave. Days since they had talked, argued. Kissed. It had only been a few days since he had felt those divine lips against his own, but it felt much longer. He never realized how hard it would be to live without such contact. Living by the code had been so easy, before he knew what he was missing. It was easy to say no to love, to attachments, when he didn’t have either. Now…

The jedi tried to find solace in his work, find serenity in meditation but it did no good. He couldn’t think, barely ate, and his heart hurt like it had been torn apart. Rhett spent hours combing through the archives, trying to find anything that would help him in his time of uncertainty, but the rules seemed absolute. Nothing could give him comfort, and he hated himself for seeking it. He hated himself for his mistake, his weakness. A jedi should not question the law, only strive to follow it. That’s what he was taught, how he was raised. If he couldn’t accept that what he had done was for the greater good, he was not fit to hold the title of Jedi Knight.

It seemed heresy to even trying to find a loophole but he stopped caring after the first restless night. He woke in a cold sweat, halfway between midnight and dawn, still feeling the fear from his dream deep in his chest, though he couldn’t remember any details. Looking across the room at the empty bed where Link once slept, he had a fair guess to what he had been dreaming about. Apparently even in his sleep he couldn’t escape what he had done.

Now, as he looked over the great hall that held so much of the ancient jedi’s teachings, he wondered if he no longer had what it took to be a jedi. Discipline. Honor. Focus. He didn’t feel like he had any of those right now.

In an effort to regain at least some of those qualities, one morning Rhett was in the training room, just finishing his regular stretches next to his usual training dummy. Once he was ready, he picked up his bokken from the floor and turned to face his target. His placed his feet firmly on the ground, in his familiar stance, and took a deep breath. Thwak! First strike, step, raise, swing. Whap! Another strike, pivot, raise, swing. Again and again, Rhett struck the target, as he had done hundreds of times before. Within moments he was deep set into his normal routine but while he didn’t notice it, things were different. Each strike hit with more force than the last, the target dummy taking more of a beating in a few minutes than it had in centuries, rocking perilously left and right with each powerful attack, all the while Rhett was lost in his own head.

‘I did the right thing,’ he told himself.

‘You broke his heart,’ his mind retorted.

‘His feelings were a lie.’

‘Is it his feelings you wish to deny or your own?‘

‘I felt nothing. I feel nothing.’

‘You sent the only person who ever loved you away, into a very dangerous world.’

‘I did the right thing.’

‘The only person who will ever loved you. The only person you have ever loved.’

‘I don’t love him.’

‘You can’t hide from this. From how you feel.’

‘I’m not hiding.’

‘Link is going to go right back into that world of slavery, and it’s all your fault.’

‘No.’

‘You have failed your code, and you have failed Link.’

‘I did the right thing.’

‘You didn’t save him. You just delayed the inevitable.’

‘I can’t…’

‘He’s probably dead right now-’

‘No!�� A final swing, with all his muscle and might; he struck so hard against the dummy that his wooden bokken shattered on impact. Giant splinters burst into the air and Rhett stopped in his tracks. Panting, covered in sweat, he didn’t see the damage he had done. Didn’t see the pitiful remnants of his practice sword. All he saw was Link, lying dead on the forest floor, bloodied and mangled. He told himself it was just his imagination running away with itself, seeing the worst possible outcome from his actions, but it didn’t help. His face was damp, but not just from sweat; tears had begun to stream down his face without him even noticing. Dropping the handle of his busted weapon, he looked down at his hands. They were shaking.

“Link... what have I done?”

As Rhett saddled Herb, the dark brown kybuck seemed to watch his every movement with great interest, as if curious as to his reasons for this early morning ride. The jedi couldn’t seem to look the beast in the eye, thinking only about what he had finally realized. In the end it had not been for any logical reason that Rhett made him go, it was cowardice, and fear that their friendship would become something more. Something he couldn’t control. Something forbidden. It wasn’t Link’s fault that the jedi didn’t have faith in himself, or the path the Force had put before him. Whatever his own feelings, Link didn’t deserve to be cast out, left alone in this cruel universe.

Maybe the old masters had a point about not forming connections, but Rhett no longer cared. All he wanted was to find his friend, to make sure he was alright, and if at all possible, convince him to come back. The chances were slim, but he had to try. For Link’s sake and perhaps the man’s very life, Rhett had to try.

“Come on, Herb. How about one last ride?”

Jorr the Hutt’s palace was a fortress surrounded by hundreds of guards and a village filled with his most loyal citizens. Three giant defence towards were set up to prevent any orbital attack or air raid. The main area was surrounded by twenty foot walls built to withstand any laser blast or frontal assault. It would take an immense army to get inside by force, though some have probably tried. Fortunately, Rhett had other ideas. He dismounted Herb outside the front entrance before removing the saddle and bridle. The kybuck had done his part on getting them here in record time. Rhett didn’t want him around when things got dangerous.

“You’ve been a good friend, Herb,” the jedi smiled, petting the large animal’s nose. “I’m gonna miss you buddy.” Stepping back, he patted Herb one last time and the beast gave a farewell snort. Then, quick as a kybuck can be, he dashed off into the forest and was gone. As he watched him go, Rhett threw his hood over his head with a smile. It was time to find his other friend.

Dressed in his signature tattered robes over his lighter clothing, he arrived at the gates to the village trying to be as inconspicuous as a man of his stature could be. It turned out to be remarkably easy. A number of transports carrying everything from llanic spice to exotic fabrics were being unloaded into the marketplace. The locals were too busy dealing with unloading the merchandise to worry about any strange visitors. The place was brimming with strange visitors, all looking to buy or sell. No one noticed as the lone jedi walked amongst them, heading for where he knew the slaves were being kept for sale.

The massive arena was generally empty, used for public executions and gladiatorial events. Many times simultaneously. Today it was filled with throngs of people out to buy, sell, or just browse the collection of species available for purchase. The whole sight made Rhett sick; people being treated as no more than property, and rarely as more than disposable. He could only hope that one day the jedi order would be back to its full strength and they’d be able to finally put an end to the barbaric practice once and for all. Until then he had to bite his tongue and watch.

As he entered the stands, stepping out near the top, he could look down at the whole wide area and see the lines of slaves already being carted off to their new owners. The most recent group was being escorted onto the center stage and Rhett immediately recognized his friend among them. The jedi was too far away to hear the slaver’s pitch, or the ensuing commotion as buyers bid for the slaves beside Link. Working his way through the crowd, Rhett made his way closer. He had to made sure his friend was at least physically unhurt.

Getting closer he heard the slaver boasting about Link’s prowess as a dancer. Looking up, Rhett saw his friend performing for prospective customers. He had never seen Link dance before and for a moment he just watched, enthralled by the movement of the man’s body. His steps were delicate, but confident. His hips rolled slowly, rhythmically. His arms were like water as they swayed around him, graceful and strong. It was no wonder that he had once been the Hutt’s favored slave, with skill like that, but there was no jubilance in the dance.

When Link was done, the crowd erupted in enthusiastic cheers and bids for the human slave, but Rhett saw the tears on Link’s face. He felt his own eyes moisten knowing why the man he adored was crying. He knew he had done this to him. It was his fault Link had been ensnared in this awful world once more.

“Link,” he whispered, letting a single tear fall. No one heard him, thinking nothing about the sorrow of this stranger, and even less about the pain of the man on stage. They only cared about buying another slave.

The bids came in, one after the other, and the slaver was only too happy to raise the price higher. Eventually a final bid was given and Rhett made sure to see who had won. A zygerrian female, dressed in fine cloth and gold bands, had managed that feat. A member of the furry humanoid race that once dominated the galaxy with their slave trade, the zygerrian had already purchased many of the slaves put up for auction today. Her bodyguards followed her out of the stadium and so did a certain hooded figure.

He tracked her through the streets of the town to a private docking area where several freighters and small luxury ships were parked. The zygerrian and her guards headed for one of the cruisers while the slaves she had purchased that day were being loaded onto a nearby freighter. Link was among them. Rhett wanted nothing more than to call out to his dear friend, let him know he wasn’t alone, that someone was coming for him, but he couldn’t. That wasn’t the plan.

The jedi waited as long as he could, watching them load Link and the other slaves into the ship before heading back out of the docking area. He had to meet with his contact before it was too late. Winding through back side streets and back alleys, Rhett made his way to one of the darker corners of his backwoods planet where another shady figure was waiting.

“What took you so long?” he asked. Hex didn’t stand out much; short for a human and a dressed as a merchant. “I was beginning to think our information was wrong.”

“My apologies, Hex,” Rhett began. “I got here as soon as I could.” It was a lie. After pretending to be someone he wasn’t for so long with Link, he had gotten a lot of practice at telling a fib and had gotten pretty good at it. The former smuggler shrugged, in no mood for banter. There wasn’t time.

“Whatever. I guess I’m just surprised you decided to join us on this crusade.” Making sure no one was looking, Hex got close enough to show the jedi a small device in his hand. “You just have to plant this one whatever you want gone. Give it a wide berth and count of twenty. Boom.” He grinned with a chuckle and splayed his fingers for emphasis. Rhett didn’t share his enthusiasm.

“That’s not my style I’ll be fine without it.” Hex gave him a look, but let it go.

“Maybe when this is over you’ll give joining us another think-over. The resistance could really use you,” he added, hopeful.

“Are your people in place?” Rhett asked, dodging the subject. Once again, Hex didn’t press the issue. He knew it was only a matter of time before the jedi took a bigger role against the empire.

“Ready and willing, my friend. You just give us the signal and we’ll do the rest. We’ve been waiting for a chance to strike this place for months. With your help, we’ll put these slavers out of business for good.”

“Let’s hope so.” Rhett turned to leave but Hex’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“I gotta know,” he asked, his tone unusually serious. “What made you change your mind?”

‘Not what,’ Rhett corrected to himself. ‘Who.’

“Just… finally realized I couldn’t hide from it anymore.” There was something in his voice that gave Hex the impression there was more to that explanation, but he didn’t question the jedi’s motives. He was just happy to have the help. He knew well enough that every man and woman in this war had a reason to be fighting in it, himself included.

“Glad to have you with us.” With one last pat to Rhett’s arm, Hex stepped away to fade into the oblivious crowd and was gone. Rhett wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, especially given the methods with which these rebels achieved their goals. Yet he understood that violence was sometimes necessary. He just never thought he’d be involved in guerilla tactics himself, especially when he was trying to hide from the empire. Once again he questioned his decision to rescue Link, but only for a moment. Seeing Link on that stage, surrounded by gawking slave owners made him sick to his stomach. Link didn’t deserve that, no one did.

Despite his reservations about the whole venture, it felt good to be doing something for the cause, something to stop these damned slavers and their brutal system. It wouldn’t end slavery in the entire galaxy, but it would make a difference here. He thought back to when he first rescued Link. It hadn’t been about saving the universe, just helping one person. Sometimes it wasn’t about being the hero that defeats the mighty empire, but the man who did what he could with what little he had.

The plan was relatively simple: with the whole town, palace included, busy with the rebel attacks, Rhett would steal the freighter carrying most of the indentured servants. In the chaos, the local guards won’t care about one ship filled with slaves. Not their property, not their problem. Rhett would deliver the freighter to a predetermined rendezvous point and deliver the freed slaves to the rebel alliance. After that… he wasn’t sure. Link would be free as well, free to choose a path and safe to pick one that didn’t put him in further danger. He could go anywhere he wanted from there, far from this miserable planet.

Rhett couldn’t decide if he hoped Link would make the most of it and start a new life in peace and happiness, or hoped Link would choose to stay with him. He was still conflicted about accepting his feelings for the man, but at least he would soon have comfort in knowing that he did his best to make things right.

Next Chapter

Additional Notes-

Bokken: Not from star wars, but adapted for this fiction. A wooden sword used for training.

Kybuck: an animal originally from Kashyyyk. They look very much like the Tauntauns found on Hoth, if you crossed one with a horse.

Zygerrian: a humanoid species who built a powerful empire by selling their slaves.

Rebel Alliance: a resistance movement formed to oppose the reign of the Galactic Empire.

Galactic Empire: the galactic, constitutional monarchy and fascist government that replaced the Galactic Republic in the aftermath of the Clone Wars.

More Fics

#rhett #link #rhink #fanfic #star wars #starwars #the lone jedi

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