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atomic-taco-muffin · 3 years ago

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The Lost Princess Chapter 67

Warnings: still don’t know

Rating: SFW

You and the others arrived in what looked like a bedroom and all of the objects looked huge.

“What in the world?” Sora asked as he passed an equally oversized xylophone and soccer ball.

“Where are we?” you asked. Vanitas looked up to the larger-than-life bedside table and realized...

“Oh my gosh! Have we been shrunk?! And...and look at us!” he said. You all looked at yourselves, a similar figure though with considerably more plastic.

“You know what the magic is for. We have to protect the world order!” Donald said.

“Border?” Rumi asked.

“‘Order’!”

“No one can understand you, chicken,” Roxy said.

“I’m not a chicken!” Something to the left caught Goofy's eye.

“Gawrsh...” he said. You and the others looked over. “Who's gonna protect the order from them?”

“Heartless!” you and the others said. You all summoned your weapons and ran at the Heartless.

“Okay. We go on three. One, two...” Woody said. Buzz's wings opened suddenly when he saw you and the others arrive.

“Wait!” he said. Rex, already at a running start, almost fell off the bed.

“What are you doing?!” Woody asked. Buzz directed Woody's gaze back to the floor.

“Who are those guys?” Woody asked. You and the others took out all the Heartless as the toy gang made their way to the wooden floor.

“Are they new?” Hamm asked.

“Wait! Ah-- Ah-- You look familiar!” Rex said. He shoved past the rest of them toward a confused Sora. “I know this. You're, uh, you're, uhhh...”

“Yozora!” Hamm said.

“Huh? My name's Sora.” A red dot appeared on Sora's chest as Buzz stood on alert.

“Stay back! For all we know, the intruders sent them,” Buzz said. Rex excitedly tackled Sora.

“Yozora!” he said.

“Slow down there, Rex. We don't know them,” Woody said.

“But we can trust them. They're the number-one-selling heroes in the country!”

“Yeah, Andy's mom must've bought 'em for him,” Hamm said. Rex shook Sora's hand as Buzz continued staying his distance, walking around you all in a circle.

“Hamm's right. Did you see how easily they took care of the intruders? I bet they're here to figure out why all our friends have gone missing, and why Buzz's laser started actually laser-ing...and all the weird stuff that's been going on,” Rex said. Buzz stared at the laser gun on his arm. “I mean, that's what heroes do, right?”

“Let's not jump to conclusions,” Buzz said.

“Hmm...” Woody said.

“Gotta be smart, Woody.” Woody casually walked up to Sora, surprising Buzz.

“So, you're...Andy's new toys?” he asked.

“Toys?” you and the others asked.

“You sure did a number on those intruders.”

“Those are the Heartless,” Goofy said.

“The bad guys!” Donald said.

“There’s also these creatures called Negaverses. Super dangerous,” Rumi said as she played with one of the bunny ears on her hood.

“We've been fighting against those ‘intruders’ for a while,” you said.

“I knew it!” Rex said. Hamm chuckled.

“Hmm... Okay,” Woody said.

“Huh?” Buzz asked.

“In that case, you're all right by me. My name's Woody. Put 'er there.” He offered a hand and Sora shook it.

“Hey,” Sora said.

“Now hold on,” Buzz said.

“I'm Sora--”

“Yozora!” Rex said over excitedly. He got forlorn looks from everyone and joined the rest of Andy's toys.

“Actually, my name's Sora...”

“I’m (Y/N) and that’s my brother Vanitas over there.”

“‘Sup?” Vanitas said.

“I’m Yui and this is my twin sister Roxy.”

“I’m Rumi.”

“And I'm Donald.”

“I'm Goofy.”

“And I'm...Buzz Lightyear.”

“Call me Hamm. It's a real honor.”

“And I'm Rex! I'm your biggest fan. In fact, I've been playing your game for months now. And I've already gotten you all the way up to LV 47. But that Bahamut boss is really tough. Slinky and I can't figure out how to beat him.” The Green Army Men walked up to you and the group. “Oh, I wish Slinky and the others were here. They'd be so happy to meet you!”

“All troops at attention, sir!” Sarge said. The Army Men saluted and you and the others returned it. A rolling sound caught your attention and your heard a squeak as the three Little Green Men coasted toward you on Andy's skateboard.

“Weeee!” they said. You and the others leaped out of the way. After leaving the skateboard, the toy aliens waddled over to Donald, their eyes blinking individually.

“Strangers,” one of them said.

“From the outside,” another said.

“Welcome,” another said. Rumi squealed and tried to hold one in her arms.

“They're all toys? So that's why we look the way we do,” Vanitas said. He saw Buzz walking towards him and Sora as the aliens go on their way.

“Excuse me. You said that you've battled those intruders before. Tell us where and why,” Buzz said.

“Oh... Well, uh...we are--” Sora said.

“Order!” Donald said to him. Sora covered his mouth, making Vanitas snort and roll his eyes.

“Well? You must have come from somewhere,” Buzz said. Hamm agreed while Woody walked over.

“Take it easy, Buzz. What matters is that they got those intruders out of our way--for at least a little while. No need to interrogate them,” Woody said.

“Yeah, Buzz!” Rex said.

“Woody's right,” Hamm said.

“Noted. But still...” Buzz said.

“Oi. Have those ‘intruders’--the Heartless--been a problem around here?” Roxy said.

“No, they just showed up a little while ago,” Woody said.

“In fact, those ‘Heartless’ materialized...right after our friends up and vanished,” Buzz said.

“You don't think...” Donald said to Goofy.

“Well, gee. It can't just be a coincidence,” Goofy replied. Sora nodded and Woody gazed up at the window over Andy's desk.

“It wasn't always this lonely. One day we woke up, and we were the only toys left here. Nobody's heard from Mom, Molly, or Andy...” Woody said. He sat on a wooden block and stared at the underside of his shoe where the name "ANDY" was written in faded ink. “We keep waiting for Andy to come home.”

“You really care about him,” Yui said. Woody nodded and stood back up, rejoining you and the group.

“Yeah... He's the best friend that toys like us could ever hope to have,” he said. He placed a hand on Buzz's shoulder and the toys smiled.

“All right. We'd better start looking!” you said.

“Huh?” Woody asked.

“Have you gotten any clues we can go on--any other strange things that happened?” Sora asked.

“Well... Hmm. There's one thing.”

“One big thing,” Hamm said.

“Huge, sir,” Sarge said.

“What thing?” Rex said.

“After everyone went MIA, the intruders didn't come alone. They arrived with a guy wearing a hood, dressed in black, just like you. As a matter of fact, he's the only other toy we've seen, outside of you guys,” Buzz said.

“A black hood?” Vanitas gasped. “But that would mean...”

“The Organization!” you and the others said.

“You know who it is?” Woody asked.

“Yeah. They're bad news,” Roxy said.

“Seems like you have a lot of enemies,” Buzz said.

“We may have a hunch what's causing all the weirdness. Would you mind if we handle this?” Sora said.

“I'm sorry. But we're not gonna leave this to you,” Woody said.

“Huh?” you and the others asked.

“If that guy had something to do with our friends vanishing, then he's our problem too. We've got to work together.” He extended a hand once more to Sora, who reciprocated.

“Right!” Sora said. You and the others shared a delighted response.

“So then, where can we find that guy?” you asked. Woody knelt toward the Army Men.

“Sarge, any word from the recon team?” he asked.

“The latest reports place him in town, sir. At Galaxy Toys!” Sarge said. He pointed to the Galaxy Toys flyer on Andy's bulletin board.

“Then Galaxy Toys is where we're going. Sora, (Y/N). Follow me,” Woody said. He looked up to the window and you and the others followed his gaze. “It's out the window and down the roof.”

“Not so fast, cowboy,” Buzz said.

“Hm?”

“You seem pretty gung ho about going, but shouldn't we stay here and wait for Andy?”

“Well... You've got a point, but...we've tried waiting. Look, if we go with Sora, we might find a clue. Are you with me, Buzz?” Buzz smiled.

“Of course. Okay, let's move out!” he said. You all exited through the window and down the roof of the garage to the driveway, engaging in spars with the Heartless that blocked your way. You all reached Galaxy Toys, home of Vic the Visitor, their alien mascot, displayed by the gigantic flying saucer that stood atop the building. You all crossed the threshold and entered the enormous toy store, Rex running in ahead.

“We're here!” he said. You all followed in awe of the spacious place. Large displays of Gigas were scattered on different shelves along with game boxes of all kinds. In the center of the first floor was an oversized gumball machine labeled "Space Capsule" with metal tracks leading in spirals to the upper floors. Roxy noticed the giant red Gigas.

“Oi, why doesn't THAT toy move?” she asked.

“I guess it hasn't figured it out,” Woody said.

“Figured what out?” Sora asked.

“I can make it move for you,” someone said. You and the others looked above the Space Capsule, where a black hooded figure entered through a dark portal, uncovering his hood and revealing himself to be Young Xehanort.

“You!” you and Vanitas growled.

“You're from the dream--the first of the Xehanorts!” Sora said.

“I'm so honored you remember me,” Y!Xehanort said. He snapped his fingers and three Heartless appeared along with three Negaverses. One Heartless jumped into the helmet of the red Gigas and assumed control of it. Its claw arm started to move with clicking sounds and it leaped toward you and Sora. Woody raised his hat to see better.

“Oh no! He CAN move!” he said.

“Way cool!” Hamm said. The arm spun backwards into a fist with Hamm giving off a startled shriek.

“Look out!” Vanitas said. As the Gigas attempted a punch, you and your team held him off while Woody knocked Hamm out of the way.

“One heart's shadows fill the emptiness of another. See how they bring him to life? Like Heartless and Nobodies, they fit together,” Y!Xehanort said.

“Enough! Why the hell are you doing this?!” you said.

“There's a darkness we are missing and must reclaim. The way hearts connect in this world can provide us with a clue. So we made a copy of the world, and then pulled those hearts apart. I wonder how you'll handle the strain.” Hamm ran off to hide behind a potted plant with Rex. Young Xehanort summoned the portal again and began to enter.

“Wait! What the hell does that mean?” Vanitas said.

“Don't let me down.” Young Xehanort left and the Gigas knocked you and your team away. Woody caught you all.

“Oh no!” Rex said.

“Woody! What is going on? Is this toy a friend...or foe?” Buzz said. The Gigas stood, aiming its arm cannon at them.

“I think we've got our answer,” Woody said. The cannon fires burst, causing you all to flee in opposite directions, hiding behind shelving units.

“Oi, (Y/N)! You wanna take this?” Roxy said.

“Yeah! If the Heartless know how to do it, there's no reason you can't,” Sora said.

“I’ll give it a try!” you said. You ran toward the Gigas, taking a spinning leap and landing inside. You grabbed onto the two control sticks inside and closed the helmet, leaping down to the floor to face off against the Heartless-controlled Gigas while also having Odile close by. Using the toy mech's various blasters, punches, Odile’s power, and explosions, you defeated the main Gigas troops while the others took down the small Heartless and Negaverses legions on the floor. The red Gigas slowed to a stop and the helmet opened as a Heartless disappeared, the Heart being released from inside it. You leaped out of the blue Gigas.

“He was being controlled? He wasn't just switched into battle mode by accident?” Buzz asked.

“Buzz?” Sora asked. Buzz turned away

“It’s nothing,” he sighed.

“I'm confused. That guy in the black coat--did he say he made a copy of the real world? What's that mean?” Woody said.

“It...prob'ly means they split this world in two--your friends in one world, us in the other. Only one of the worlds is real, and the other is just really convincing,” Vanitas said.

“You can't be serious. Oh! That's right, you're from a video game. Well, maybe in your game, that's how things work...but here in reality, you can't ‘split worlds.’” Buzz said. You and your team were at lost for words.

“This is ridiculous,” Buzz said. He waved you and your team off and walked away towards Woody. “Woody, let's go.”

“I admit, it does sound just a little far-fetched,” Woody said. Donald and Goofy rejoined the group. “But...say we HAVE been taken to some kind of alternate world. That would explain why your laser's real. And is it really that crazy? Worse than ‘evil emperors’ and ‘protecting the galaxy’? Any of that ring a bell?”

“Point taken. But that just means these strangers are part of the delusion. And I say it's time we parted ways and went home,” Buzz said. Donald and the others looked crestfallen.

“Thought we were friends, not strangers,” Yui said.

“Look, I get that it seems weird, but we know something's wrong with this place. We should stick together,” you said.

“(Y/N)’s right. They helped with the intruders, so they might help find our friends,” Woody said. Buzz started walking toward the red Gigas.

“They have been there for us so far. You can't deny that. Come on. Every toy deserves a fair shake. Am I right?” Woody said.

“Tell it to that toy over there,” Buzz said as he pointed to the Gigas. Woody fell silent.

“Sheriff, sir!” Sarge said. Woody looked atop the shelf to see Sarge and another Green Army Man. “Rex has just been dino-napped!”

“What's that?!” Woody asked. Sarge turned to his fellow soldier, who saluted.

“My men saw him get hauled up to the second floor, sir! And Hamm and the Aliens are MIA,” he said.

“Come on. We have got to find them!” Woody began running and Sora followed.

“Please, let us help!” he said.

“Yeah!” you and the others said. Woody looked over his shoulder at Buzz who hadn't budged and ran back over to him.

“Well, Buzz? Do you really think we can save our friends on our own? We didn't get very far before. We gotta take all the help we can get,” he said. Buzz gave an abject sigh.

“Don't worry. Sora and (Y/N) can be reckless...” Goofy said.

“Wha?” Sora asked.

“Excuse me?” you asked.

“...and Donald grumbles a lot...”

“Huh?” Donald asked.

“It’s true,” Yui said.

“...And Roxy and Vanitas do lose their temper easily...”

“Say that again,” Roxy said.

“...And Rumi does get scared easily.”

“That was so uncalled for!” Rumi said.

“But you can trust 'em!”

“Hey! He suspects you, too!” Vanitas said.

“It's true,” Sora said.

“Huh? He does?” Donald threw his hands up and Sora chuckled.

“See, they don't seem bad. Am I right, Buzz?” Woody said.

“Okay, fine. We do need the extra help. But just so we're clear: I remain skeptical about this. I'll work with you till we find our friends,” Buzz said.

“Ohhh...kay,” you and Sora said.

“Thanks for the help, Sora, (Y/N), Vanitas, Yui, Roxy, Rumi, Donald, Goofy,” Woody said.

“My troops will return to the field, sir!” Sarge said. The Army Men saluted and walked off. You and the group walked over to the Space Capsule and Buzz ejected his wings right as Woody walked into them. He scowled at Buzz for a moment, but the feeling passed.

“This ascent is gonna be rather tricky,” Buzz said.

“Too bad we're not strapped to a rocket, huh?” Woody smiled. He leaned on Buzz's wings, but Buzz retracted them back into his suit.

“Hey! Think we could use that?” you said. You pointed upwards and you all saw the spiral tracks leading to the other floors,

“It's perfect. C'mon, guys!” Woody said. You all rode the rails up to the 2nd Floor and entered a store named Action+, where you all gazed in awe of the seemingly endless shelves of action figures. Woody saw something tail-shaped out of the corner of his eye and he turned in surprise.

“Rex!” he said. He dashed around the corner of a display, but saw no one there. “Where'd he go?”

“You sure you saw him?” Buzz asked.

“Yes, he just--”

“Shh. Do you guys hear something?” Vanitas said.

“What's that?” Rumi asked as she held her hood tightly. You and Sora saw waves of darkness though a break in the boxes on display where something was moving.

“Something feels wrong...” Buzz said. With a huge swipe of its claw, an immense dragon model toy called the Supreme Smasher knocked over the display of Smasher toys in front of you all. Donald and Rumi started running back to the exit, when the store's sliding door slammed shut. The Supreme Smasher let out a giant bellow and you all clearly saw the Heartless symbol emblazoned on its neck. You all summoned your weapons and guardians.

“Another toy's being controlled!” Sora said. Buzz shook off a worrisome look and readied his laser.

“Buzz, you sure?” you asked.

“If it wanted to play nice, then it should've stayed away from my friends,” Buzz said. You and the others managed to free the controlled toys and Sora and Vanitas dispelled their Keyblades with a sigh of relief. Suddenly, another Supreme Smasher landed behind you all and roared. You and the others heard a scream and looked over to see a dragon-shaped glider hooked to the ceiling flying in circles piloted by a shouting Rex. It spun at full speed, knocking the hook out of the tile, sending the glider and Rex flying into the Supreme Smasher just as it reached back for a claw slash at you and Sora. The dragon toy fell over as Rex flew into an Air Droid display along with an orange puppet hanging from a cloud-like gear. After landing on the floor, the gear tried to float away but Rex landed on it.

“What's this?!” he asked. The puppet turned its head to face Rex menacingly, revealing a Heartless symbol on its hat. “Oh no! What did I do?!”

He ran away from it while Sora and Vanitas struck down the Marionette Heartless with one swipe of their Keyblades. Woody sighed with relief, wiping his brow.

“Nice moves, Rex,” he said.

“That was great!” Rumi said.

“Great? Really? Would you say I was impressive?” Rex asked.

“Very impressive, Rex! We couldn't look away!” Roxy said.

“Hurray! Oh, that makes me so happy!” Rex turned to Donald. “Were you watching too? Did you see what I did?”

“Yeah, good for you,” Donald said as he and Woody tried to calm him down.

“Listen, Rex,” Woody said.

“I was going for fearsome...” Rex said.

“Would ya--”

“...but I think I might've actually achieved something close to terrifying!”

“Earth to Rex!” Rex stopped.

“Do you know where the others were taken?” Sora asked.

“What do you mean? Did something bad happen?” Rex asked.

“Back to square one,” Buzz said.

“Oh, great,” Roxy said. Woody heard a clicking sound of plastic on metal and looked up to see the sergeant climbing down the vent near the ceiling.

“Sarge! Have you got a status report?” he asked.

“Sir! One of my men just located Hamm forward of our position, in Babies in Toddlers,” Sarge saluted. You and the group smiled with the good news. “The corporal was debriefing him, but something must have gone wrong. All radio contact has been lost.”

“Anything more specific we can go on?” Vanitas asked.

“Right before I lost contact, I heard music with some sort of sonic interference.”

“Music?” Buzz asked.

“Ya think it could be the Heartless?” Goofy asked.

“Or a Negaverse?” Yui asked.

“What if it's another big monster?” Donald asked.

“Let’s find out,” you said.

“I agree,” Woody said. You and the group started walking ahead, while Rex stayed put.

“Actually...I think I'll head back and wait by the entrance. I'm sure those vents are gonna be much too narrow for my big dinosaur tail,” he said. Sora looked up at the vent.

“Really? I'm sure you'd fit,” he said.

“Rex is right. Besides, we need a lookout at the entrance. It's an important mission. Can you do it?” Buzz interjected.

“Yes, sir!” Rex made a determined fist with his little arm and Buzz saluted him. You and the rest chuckled and made your way up into the ventilation shaft. Using the vents to reach the third floor of Galaxy Toys you all exited into the Dolls section of Babies & Toddlers.

“This is Babies and Toddlers. Where do you guys think we should start?” Woody said. Goofy bent down to speak to the sergeant.

“Sarge, didn't you mention music?” he asked. Sarge hopped to face him.

“Affirmative, Goofy,” he said. You peered out through the vast toy section.

“Hmm... All right. Why don't we look for things that make noise?” you said.

“Sure!” Sora and the others said.

“That's good thinking for you,” Roxy said. She walked off, cackling.

“Wha... What do you mean, for me?” Roxy broke off into a run.

“Hey, where ya--” Roxy ran around Vanitas.

“Roxy!” you laughed. The two of you ended up in a standoff around Vanitas.

“I think they really are good guys,” Woody said. You tried to grab Roxy but she runs past you and shook her butt while sticking her tongue out.

“Hold still!” you said. Yui and your team chuckled and you ran after Roxy.

“Well, you wouldn't have trusted them otherwise,” Buzz said. Roxy tried to run around Vanitas again but you blocked her, prompting Roxy to dive through your legs. Yui and the team laughed harder.

“What?” you asked.

“Missed me!” Roxy laughed as she leaped onto her feet.

“Don't!”

“And I know that your trust is a hard-earned treasure,” Buzz said. You and Roxy continued to play cat and mouse.

“No! Stop that!” you said.

“Victory is mine!” Roxy laughed. Woody smiled softly at Buzz.

“Well...for all our sakes, let's hope you're right, cowboy. I'm willing to give 'em a chance at least for a little while longer. Especially if it means getting Andy and our friends back,” Buzz said.

“Agreed,” Woody said. You and the others searched through the store, taking out more Heartless and Negaverse-possessed toys, until you all reached a large gramophone in the corner at a display labeled Musical Toads. Sora and Vanitas hopped onto the turntable.

“Is this it?” Vanitas asked. He and Sora began to run on the record and the symphony of toads on the display lit up and began playing.

“Come on, you two...You've never used a record player?” Woody said.

“Huh?” Sora asked. He and Vanitas slowed down and the music stopped as Woody leaped up onto the record as well.

“Like this!” Woody said. He started running along the record, throwing Sora and Vanitas off-balance. The two boys returned to a run and laughed as the orchestra continued playing.

“It's working!” Rumi said. One of the instruments played a false note.

“Wait, did that sound off to you?” Yui asked.

“It did,” Donald said.

“Huh?” Sora and Vanitas asked. Distracted, Sora and Vanitas slowed down and almost crashed into Woody.

“Heeey!” Woody said. Sora and Vanitas sped back up and you called up to them.

“Sora! Vanitas! There's some kinda strange noise coming from the orchestra!” you said. Sora, Vanitas, and Woody exchanged glances.

“Got it! Woody, you keep the record going,” Sora waved. He and Vanitas jumped down from the turntable.

“Whoa-whoa-whoa!” Woody said. You and your team searched the orchestra for the instrument that's playing off-rhythm and found that it's the tuba-playing toad. Woody struggled to catch his breath as he kept the music playing while Goofy peered into the tuba.

“Hmm... Somethin' seems to be stuck in this tuba,” Goofy said.

“I'll get it out,” Vanitas said. He reached into the tuba, feeling around for the obstruction. He found it and struggled to get it unstuck.

“Almost got it...” he said. With a loud pop, he pulled out...”

“Got it!” he said. ...the corporal. Vanitas placed him gently on the table.

“Corporal!” Sarge said. The sergeant hopped down from a higher ledge and walked over to the corporal, placing a hand on his back. “You all right, son?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Corporal said.

“That's the soldier Sarge lost contact with,” Buzz said. Sarge got the soldier to his feet and put his arm around his shoulders, hoisting him up.

“So you found Hamm?” Sora asked.

“Yes. But...while I was radioing in, a giant hand grabbed me, and it stuffed me in there. They must have taken Hamm to another location. We have to hurry!” Corporal said. He tried to walk his injured self, but fell over.

“Wait, Corporal. You're not fit for action,” Sarge said as he helped him stand again.

“But Sarge...”

“Your tour is over, son. And it's all right. Our trusted allies will take over.” You and your team saluted them and the corporal started tearing up. “I will move the corporal to a safer location.”

“Good luck,” Corporal saluted. The Green Army Men walked off as the music continued to play and Woody continued to run. They reached the edge of the orchestra ledge and gave Woody a salute.

“Huh...?” Woody asked. They hopped down the ledge. “Hey, hey, hey, hey! What is...going on?!”

“Oh, right!” you said.

“Woody! Mission complete!” Buzz said. Woody leaped off the record player and the music slowed to a stop.

“Why didn't...you tell me...a little sooner?” he asked, winded. He fell to his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath.

“Sorry, there's no time to rest. Hamm needs us,” Buzz said. He hopped off the table and Woody gave an exhausted salute. You and the others soon found a dollhouse that was rattling around in a window display. You all struggled to get the side of the house open, but with everyone's help, it unlatched, and the you all landed in a pileup.

“Talk about cabin fever. Thanks for the save,” Hamm said. He walked out of the dollhouse much to your surprise.

“You okay, Hamm?” Woody asked.

“Yeah, aside from being locked in, the accommodations were fine.” He nodded over to the fully-furnished inside of the house, where Rumi and Donald stepped inside.

“Aww. What a tiny little house. Reminds me a lot of the one I used to have,” Rumi said. They walked by the window where a giant doll peered inside.

“Huh?” Donald asked. The doll brimmed with darkness and its sudden appearance caused Rumi and Donald to thrash about the house.

“Who was--” Woody asked. Hamm shrieked in terror and backed away.

“What's wrong?” Buzz asked.

“She's back! That's the doll that pig-penned me!” Hamm said. The doll's eyes glowed orange, matching the glowing Heartless symbol on her left bunny ear.

“Hamm, take cover,” Woody said.

“Uh, copy that. One stay in the dread-and-breakfast was enough for me!” Hamm said as he ran away.

“Not another possessed toy...” Buzz said.

“Guys, look alive!” Yui said. You and the others fought the possessed Angelic Amber doll along with a horde of Bouncy Pets and Patchwork Animals also under the Marionette Heartless's and Negaverses control. The doll stopped floating and its eyes return to their normal shade of blue. It slumped against the floor, lifeless.

“Wait... What if we end up just like her? Forgetting ourselves and... attacking each other?” Buzz asked.

“No way, Buzz. That won't happen,” you said.

“No way!” Donald said.

“You guys are too strong,” Goofy said.

“You can't be sure! What if I get taken over, then attack you?” Buzz said, hotly. Woody placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Buzz, you're overthinking it,” he said.

“Yeah. The Heartless--the darkness--can only creep in when our hearts falter. Trust me. You'll be fine if you don't lose heart,” Sora said.

“Well, that's good. Because I know you, Buzz. You'll never lose heart when it comes to your friends,” Woody said as he flicked his hat upwards.

“True enough, cowboy,” Buzz said as he gave a small smile. “Sorry to have worried you all.”

“No problem. Now, let's go find the others.” You all returned to the window, Buzz helping Woody up to the windowsill, and met back up with Hamm. Donald and Goofy spotted something through the glass.

“Look!” Donald said. A UFO with a crane claw sailed past the window, a trail of darkness behind it.

“A flying saucer!” Goofy said as Woody adjusted his hat.

“I think I know who that might lead us to. C'mon, guys!” Woody said. You all opened the window right as the UFO passed by and Woody waved you all through when the coast was clear.

“Hey, Woody. I'd just slow you down, with all the loose change I'm carrying. I'll hang by the entrance,” Hamm said.

“No problem. Be safe, Hamm,” Woody said as he leaped out of the window.

“Hey, thanks, buddy. You just take care of your old self.” He left and Woody rejoined you and the group.

“Now, let's follow that UFO!” he said.

“Right!” you all said. You all entered the Outdoor playplace of Babies & Toddlers where the UFO was flying through. The Aliens spotted it with glee.

“They have come for us,” the first one said.

“The mystic portal awaits,” the second one said. The UFO stopped over the three Aliens and the claw descended, sending you and the group running after them.

“Oh no!” Buzz said.

“Wait!” Rumi said.

“Stop!” Woody said. The Aliens were snatched up into the mothership.

“Farewell!” they said.

“It's getting away!” Buzz said.

“Don't go!” Rumi said. Surrounded by Toy Trooper Heartless, you and the others took down the possessed UFO. It dropped the Aliens, which Rumi caught quickly, and faltered in the air, eventually losing power and sinking to the floor.

“We are back!” the Aliens said. They escaped from Rumi’s grasp and they started to run in different directions.

“Our ship is no more,” the first one said.

“Nirvana will not be reached,” the second one said. Sora picked one up with a squeak.

“Sorry I trashed your ride,” he said.

“Fear not,” it said.

“We still have our new home,” the first one said.

“The Chamber of Andy,” the Aliens said.

“They're right,” Buzz said. Sora set the Alien down. “This isn't where we belong. We've been in this toy store long enough. It's time for us to go home to Andy's room.”

“But...dad told us that room isn't even his real room,” Vanitas said.

“Can you prove that any of that nonsense is true?” Buzz asked. You and the others sighed. “And even if that Andy's room IS fake, it doesn't mean he's not somewhere in this world with us. I'm going home to wait for him. No more debate. Are you with me Woody?”

“Hmm... You’re right, Buzz. Now that we're all accounted for, we should meet up at the entrance and go home,” Woody said.

“Okay. We could have used friends like you for the final showdown...” you said.

“But Organization XIII's our problem to solve,” Yui said. Sora nodded and Donald hopped in place.

“Yeah, I can take 'em!” Donald said.

“I'm not so sure about that...” Roxy said. Goofy chuckled.

“I'll show ya!” Roxy laughed and ran up to Woody and Buzz, you and the others following suit.

“Guys, can we see you off?” you asked.

“That would be great,” Woody said. You and the others returned to the first floor.

“Sarge, roll call,” Woody said as he pointed to the Green Army Man and walked past him.

“Sir, yes sir! Roll call! All toys, fall in!” Sarge saluted. The Army Men, Hamm, and the Aliens formed a line as Buzz walked by them.

“Sarge... Army Men times four... Hamm... Aliens 1, 2, 3...” Buzz said. The Army Men saluted and each Alien squeaked as they raised their hands. “Wait. Where's Rex?”

“Aw, he took off. Said he wanted to prove to you you could trust Sora. He's up there by the video games,” Hamm said as he pointed up to the third floor and Buzz sighed.

“Well, here we go again.”

“Huh? This is about us?” Sora asked as he gave a worried look.

“He's not safe. The Heartless and the Negaverses are out there,” you said.

“You're right. Any chance you guys could help us one last time?” Woody said.

“Sure!” You, Vanitas, and Sora said.

“Of course!” Rumi and Goofy said.

“You bet!” Roxy, Yui, and Donald said.

“Thanks guys.” You all returned to the third floor and entered the video game store where you all found Rex among the Verum Rex merchandise.

“Hurray!” he said. He hopped down and rushed over to Sora with the game in his hands.

“Look! Look! I found it!” he said. He held it almost too close to Sora's face, trying to show him the cover.

“See, Sora?” The cover showed an image of the silver-haired Yozora lazing on stone steps with his sword and crossbow.

“Well, I never look THIS good. The clothes kinda match,” Sora said. Buzz and Woody walked further into the game store around a giant poster for Verum Rex, where they could see a much larger version of the game cover.

“Whaddaya know! They ARE video game figures. See? I told ya, Buzz. They're toys, just like the rest of us,” Woody said. Buzz looked over to you and your team as something caught Rex's eye.

“Well, I suppose,” he said. You and Sora Sora leaned over to speak privately with Donald and Roxy.

“Donald, I thought your magic decided how I look. Explain,” Sora said.

“And I thought that Spirit’s don’t change their looks,” you said.

“It doesn’t apply to all of the worlds,” Roxy said.

“And that’s not you,” Donald said.

“Say, Riku would make a great action figure!” Goofy said.

“Must be him!” Rumi said.

“It kind of looks like him,” Vanitas said.

“No! It's me. I've got the black clothes and, uh...” Sora trailed off slowly.

“So what?” Yui asked.

“All right, everyone. Now that we're back together, it's time to return to Andy's room,” Buzz said. Rex was reading the back cover of a Play Plus strategy guide.

“Now?” he asked. He dropped the book and searched through the shelf, tossing books aside.

“But can't I at least check the strategy guides? I want to know how to beat Bahamut!” He said as he managed to find the Verum Rex guide.

“Next time. Right now, we need to go home,” Buzz said. He took the book and tossed it away. Rex's face turned sad and Buzz consoled him with a tap him on the snout. Rex walked away hesitantly from the book, following Buzz back to the group. A figure with a pair of boots landed on the floor nearby.

“Oh, but you needn't rush off,” Y!Xehanort said. The voice caught your attention and you all summon your weapons and guardians.

“You!” You and Vanitas said.

“I have more to observe. I can't let you leave yet.”

“It’s me that you really want. Leave my friends out of this!” you said. Y!Xehanort smirked.

“You WOULD say that, Spirit of Light,” he said. Suddenly, a pounding headache ran through you, causing you to scream in pain.

“(Y/N)!” Sora and the others yelled. You fell to the ground, whimpering in pain.

“Roxy, Vanitas, stay with (Y/N) while we deal with Xehanort!” Sora said. Roxy and Vanitas nodded while Sora turned towards Y!Xehanort.

~~~~

You looked around and saw that you were in a dark place. You tried taking a step but found that you couldn’t.

“What’s happening?” you asked. Suddenly, memories of you as a child started showing up. From the day you were found by Xehanort to the day you met Sora.

“Why is he doing this?” you asked yourself. You heard someone singing and looked over to see what looked like a woman in the Realm of Darkness.

youtube

“Who is she?” you asked.

“(Y/N)...stop Xehanort...” a voice said.

“Huh?” Before the voice could say another thing, you were brought back to your friends.

“(Y/N)! You’re okay!” Vanitas said.

“Yeah...” you said as you sat up slowly. You looked over and saw Sora still talking with Y!Xehanort.

“What did you do to him?!” he asked. You looked over and saw Buzz trying to shoot Goofy with his lazer. Sora attacked Y!Xehanort, who phased away in the blink of an eye.

“I thought I made it clear. I am testing the strength of their bonds,” Y!Xehanort said. He walked around the room, phasing in and out as Sora tried to strike him down, but only slicing air.

“In this world, toys have hearts. And those hearts come from a powerful bond,” he said. Sora looked around, seeing Y!Xehanort on a high display case above a video screen.

“So what happens when those bonds are stretched to their limit? When they are worlds apart, can cloth and plastic hold on to their hearts?” Sora leaped to the top of the display with another failed attack.

“All I needed was a wedge to widen the divide--someone like you to fill them with distrust and doubt.” Sora found him walking along the display and Y!Xehanort dodged each of Sora's blows effortlessly.

“And that chasm you created can be filled with a vast darkness.” He appeared on the floor and Sora leaped down at him, striking nothing.

“Witness it for yourself.”

“Sora!” you and the others said. You and the others were trying to hold Buzz at bay, but he continued his laser blasts unflinching as Goofy stopped them from hitting Woody.

“Do somethiiing!” Rex said.

“On my way!” Sora said. He tried to run to their aid, but Y!Xehanort snatched him up.

“Sora!” you said.

“Not this time!” Y!Xehanort said. He summoned a concentrated energy blast near Sora's waist, which then exploded, blasting him into the nearby video screen. He phased into it, sending a ripple through the screen. He landed on a metal surface of an enormous boat several miles from a nighttime city skyline.

“Sora! What did you do to him?!” you said.

“Nothing that will kill him. Or maybe that’s my intention.”

“You son of a--!” You ran over to him and attacked him with your dagger. Meanwhile, Sora landed in the video game that Y!Xehanort was standing in front of.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“Haven't you heard? In this world, you come from a video game. So now, you can watch my experiment from inside that screen. That is...if you manage to find a moment's rest,” Y!Xehanort said. He teleported out of the store as Sora came face to face with the Gigas inside Verum Rex.

“There's got to be a way out. Buzz, Woody, hang on!” Sora said. After a few minutes, Sora leaped out of the television screen to the delighted faces of his friends except you. You sat on your knees, looking at where Y!Xehanort was.

“I’m gonna kill him...” you mumbled.

“Wait...Where's Buzz?” Sora asked. You looked behind you and saw him standing there. You stood up and walked over to him.

“He disappeared into a dark corridor,” you said.

“Oh...”

“Sora, how do we get him back?” Woody asked.

“I don't know. My power won't open those.”

“Neither will ours,” Roxy said. Yui nodded in agreement.

“Vanitas, what about you?” Sora asked.

“Same situation as the twins.” Woody breathed a large sigh as the Green Army Men walked nearer.

“Sir, did I hear you say ‘dark corridor’?” Sarge asked.

“That's right, Sarge. Any ideas?” Woody said.

“Well, it might be a long shot, but we've sighted a shadowy portal in the Kid Korral. We can infiltrate from a window inside Babies and Toddlers.” Woody's disposition lightened. “I'll head there and get it open.”

“Sarge, you're a lifesaver!” Woody turned to your and the others. “You guys in?”

“Yeah!” you all said.

“Please promise you'll bring Buzz home,” Rex said.

“With batteries included?” Hamm asked.

“Journey safely,” the first alien said.

“Farewell!” the second alien said.

“Don't worry. WE'RE gonna get our friend back,” Woody said. You and the others returned to the Outdoor section of Babies & Toddlers.

“Vani. Can I talk to you about something?” you said.

“Sure.”

“I think we have another sister.”

“Huh? How do you know?”

“During that headache, I caught a glimpse of a woman. She was in the Realm of Darkness and she was trying to tell me something.”

“What did she say?”

“She said to stop dad but before she could say another thing, I was brought back here.”

“Well, if she is dad’s daughter, then we need to save her before something bad happens.”

“I know she is. I can feel it.” Vanitas wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your temple.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered.

“I hope so.”

“Guys, look!” Woody said. High above on a windowed wall with the design of a house was a much smaller window.

“That must be the window Sarge mentioned,” Yui said. You all made your way up through the window and entered the Kid Korral, where Sora saw odd green cubes piled against the main door.

“The entrance was blocked by BLOCKS?” he asked.

“Can you use the Gigas to move 'em?” Vanitas asked.

“Yeah, maybe. I'll try.” Sora piloted a nearby blue Gigas, stretching its arm out. He activated the claw which sent magnetic bolts to the green blocks, causing them to glow and disperse, unbarring the door. You and the others moved further into the room where Donald spotted something.

“Up there!” he said. A stream of darkness emanated from the uppermost vent in the room, much too high to reach by normal means, especially at toy height.

“How we gonna reach that?” Sora asked.

“(Y/N). Your guardian is a swan. Maybe you and Odile can pile up the blocks so that we can reach up there,” Rumi said.

“Okay, if you say so,” you said. You pulled out your dagger and held it up into the air. “ODILE!”

From behind you, Odile was summoned. With the help from Roxy, you climbed on Odile and told her what to do. She gave a honk in agreement and she helped place the blocks together while Sora and the others took down the Heartless and the Negaverses. Once all the blocks had been gathered and piled up, three cones landed on top of the green figure assembled and a fanfare played. The figure, with a permanent surprised look on its face, leaned over toward the wall, providing a path up to the vent.

“Hey, is that...” Roxy asked.

“A cactus?” Rumi asked. The vent cover fell open.

“Yep, and it's our way up to the dark corridor,” Vanitas said. You and the others made your way to the vent and entered it, finding a corridor of darkness.

“It looked like this?” Sora asked.

“Yup,” Goofy said.

“Here goes,” You said. You and the others passed through the ominous portal, finding themselves in a hazy abyss. Buzz was hovering in the center, darkness coming off of him and spreading through the air. Y!Xehanort waited for them, waves of dark energy covering the floor as pieces of toys were scattered about the abyss, floating on invisible strings.

“Buzz!” Sora and Woody said.

“Dad!” you and Vanitas said.

“What do you want with my friend?” Woody asked.

“Look... Such tremendous darkness. All because he was ripped away from the boy who cares about him most,” Y!Xehanort said. The waves punched upward.

“Does that mean...we'll all be like Buzz...” The waves coalesced around Woody. “...if we don't...find Andy?”

“Wrong! Distance doesn't matter. Andy's part of their hearts, just like my friends are part of mine,” you said. Sora and the others nodded in agreement, glaring at Y!Xehanort.

“You can't rip that apart!” Sora said. Woody looked at the bottom of his shoe where Andy had written his name years ago, and then at Buzz's, just the same. Buzz was carried higher by the waves as Xehanort raised an arm.

“What? ‘Your friends are your power’? Ah... How very true. But if the light of friendship is a form of power...the darkness of being alone is a power...even greater. Darkness is the heart's true nature,” Y!Xehanort said. You were stunned to silence, but Woody placed a hand on your shoulder and walked past you.

“Whatever you're talking about, I don't care. Put Buzz back the way he was, then get lost!” he said.

“Or else what, toy?”

“Yeah, I am a toy. And a friend.” Woody stamped down with his foot, breaking the waves of darkness slightly, revealing the floor underneath. “My guess is no one's ever loved you before. Because you know NOTHING about hearts and love.”

“WHAT DID HE SAY?!” Roxy cackled.

“Roxy!” Yui scolded. You and Sora joined Woody in the circle of light, both making steps forward.

“There are hearts all around us, trying to connect. Your ‘loneliness’ only made Woody and Buzz's connection stronger. THAT's the heart's true nature--to never, ever let go. Wherever they are, Andy and the other toys haven't let go either,” you said.

“Yeah! You can't keep us from Andy. We're going home no matter what. And taking Buzz!” Woody said.

“Xehanort, you're so caught up in finding the shadows, you forgot about the light that cast them,” Sora said. The force of light broke through the dark waves, tearing apart the darkness holding Buzz in the air. As it reached Buzz, it shined out with a brilliant light.

“No!” Y!Xehanort said. You and your team charged forward, forcing Xehanort to summon his Keyblade, blocking the you all.

“Woody, now!” Vanitas said. Woody leaped forward over them, tossing out the pull string from his back. It latched onto a Lego floating in the air and Woody swung around, using the momentum to snatch Buzz from his tangled perch. You and Sora smiled and Y!Xehanort scowled as the pull string retracted back inside Woody with a message of "Giddy-up, partner! We gotta get this wagon train a-movin'!" Suddenly, Buzz opened his eyes, seeing Woody on top of him. Woody lifted his head and gazed back at his friend. He turned over and sat with Buzz, who held his head.

“Woody...Wait, how did I get here?” Buzz asked.

“Hmm. Oh, I don't know!” Woody elbowed Buzz. “Maybe somebody switched you into ‘dark and stormy’ mode.”

“But I don't have a-” He realized what Woody is saying. The cowboy extended a hand to him and Buzz smiled, taking it, getting to his feet.

“Thank you, Woody,” he said.

“Good to have ya back, Buzz.”

“Oi, hurry up!” Roxy said. The two of them looked over to see you and your team locked in combat with Y!Xehanort.

“We can't hold him much longer!” Rumi said.

“Don't give up, guys!” Sora said. Young Xehanort knocked you all back.

“So, even empty puppets can be given strong hearts. I am going to have to remember that,” he said. Buzz aims his laser beam at Y!Xehanort.

“Remember this--our hearts will always be connected to Andy's. No matter what you do!” he said.

“And that's something you'll never understand, because you're hollower than any toy,” Woody said.

“But now I know a heart can be placed in the vessel of our choosing. For that, let me give you a parting gift to play with,” Y!Xehanort said.

“Wait!” you and Sora said. The two of you ran at Y!Xehanort and slashed right through him.

“Find the hearts joined to yours,” Y!Xehanort said. (why did that feel like he was betraying org.xiii?)

“Huh?” you and Sora asked. Xehanort vanished and Donald leaped up, pointing at the sky where the darkness had begun to break.

“There!” he said. You and the others rejoined as the darkness was swept up, forming a giant flying saucer Heartless, revealing the room as a toy-sized cityscape with a puzzle-piece road.

“Careful!” Woody said.

“Here goes!” you said. After a long battle with the King of Toys involving an electromagnetic tornado, you all succeeded in finishing off the Heartless and returned to the first floor of Galaxy Toys. You all regrouped with your friends and began walking toward the exit.

“So, crusty got away again,” Roxy said.

“Not so much as crusty but more of a brat,” Yui said. You gave a small chuckle but it didn’t make you feel better. Sora hung his head and stopped walking.

“I’m sorry!” Sora said. You and the others turned back to him, confused.

“I wanted to get you back to the real world,” he said. Woody and Buzz looked at each other and smirked.

“It does seem that we're trapped here,” Buzz said.

“We'll never get home,” Rex said.

“Yeah, stuck like pigs,” Hamm said.

“Our position appears fixed,” Sarge said.

“Oh nooo,” the three aliens said. You and the others gave a sad sigh.

“A shame we'll have to stay a little longer...with our new best friends,” Buzz said.

“Huh?” you and your team asked. Woody walked up and leaned on Sora's shoulder.

“After all the adventures we've had, we're not quite ready to say, ‘So long,’” he said. Sora laughed.

“You guys...” he said. The space ranger extended a hand.

“I'm sorry that I was being so stubborn. Please forgive me,” he said. Sora shook his head, smiling, and shook Buzz's hand.

“Hey, you were just looking out for your friends. No biggie,” he said.

“Yeah, somebody's gotta be the sensible one, especially since Woody's always gettin' in trouble,” Hamm said.

“Gawrsh, that sounds a little like Sora and (Y/N), don't it?” Goofy asked. You, Sora, and Woody exchanged a look, pointing at yourselves.

“Yeah, and I'm the dependable one!” Donald said.

“Like Buzz! ...Kinda,” Rex said. You all laughed.

“Besides, if we do go back to the real world, we'll never see you again, right?” Woody asked. Sora scratched his cheek.

“But...what about Andy? You care about him so much,” Rumi said. Buzz put a hand on her shoulder.

“And he's still right here with us,” he said as he touched his heart, smiling. Woody put an arm around Sora.

“If we follow our hearts, we'll find him again,” he said.

“Yeah!” Sora grinned. You and the others continued walking to the exit.

“So, Sora, (Y/N), are you goin' after the guy in the black coat?” Woody asked.

“Something tells me we can't join you on that mission,” Buzz said.

“That's okay...because you've become part of our hearts.” Woody pointed to Sora’s heart. “So let us become a part of yours.”

You and the others extended joyous laughter and infectious smiles as Sora side-hugged Woody.

“Thank you!” he said.

“Now, off you go. To infinity and beyond!” Buzz said.

To be continued...

#kingdom hearts #kingdomhearts #kingdom hearts 3 #kingdom hearts iii #khiii #KH #kh 3 #kingdom hearts imagine #kingdom hearts imagines #kingdom hearts x reader #kingdomhearts x reader #kingdomhearts imagines

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sebastianshaw · 4 years ago

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RP meme from "Chapter Two:Infesting the World" in The World of Darkness Ratkin Breedbook, Part 2 of 2

"Not everyone follows the same path."

"They just define loyalty by a different set of standards."

"In fact, anything that brings about chaos is good, regardless of the consequences."

" It’s more important to assign blame when something fails."

"Infamy is good enough for them."

"They take pride in the accomplishments of their carefully bred offspring."

"A talented few find reasons to associate with other supernatural creatures."

" They’re high-maintenance relationships, to say the least."

" If you’re wise enough not to trust your own kind, scurry away from these places as quickly as you can."

"Travelers refer to these hideaways as “crash space.”

" After all, no one can give a dirty look like your momma can!"

" The only way to depose such a ruler is to kill him and conspire to take his place."

"If his solution is unpopular, his enemies may attempt to conspire against him, or even kill him."

"Any who fail to depose him will be exiled, crippled, killed or even eaten, depending on how much the ruler hates him."

"This usually involves driving the rage of everyone present to a fever pitch."

"The participants begin by launching into ritual combat, lashing at each other with non-lethal weapons."

"Everyone present turns on each other for a brief while, fighting bitterly over trivial matters until the swarm is full of fury."

"There are reasons for such prolonged isolation."

" The desert isn’t really desolate, after all; it just teems with life most humans don’t recognize."

"Watch your step; from here on out, things get a little strange. . ."

"Sadly, a few of these legends have at least some basis in fact."

"Ever hear odd noises in an old house late at night? You

don’t believe it’s the “house settling,” do you? Do you really think it’s just “hot air expanding in the walls?” Of course not."

" As long as no one goes poking around under the stairs, or gets trapped in the crawlspace under the house, everyone stays happy."

"If you haven’t already been dissuaded from risking your life in one of these otherworldly dimensions, you’d best study up on the spirits who live there."

"Pain-spirits seek out places of suffering, whether it’s inflicted by torture, torment or infection."

"Anyone who owns an electronic device inhabited by this spirit becomes its owner. . .or its victim, depending on your point of view."

“Really, the computer likes it when I sing.”

"I’ve never understood why we have this tradition, though."

" I guess this is a way to hand down the same stereotypes from one generation to the next."

"What, do I sound a little cynical?"

"C’mon, ask me about someone you’ll really have problems with.”

"They like to play pranks on people."

"Crap, you studied for this, didn’t you?"

"You already know about these bastards."

"Don’t tell the boss I told you that, though."

"These guys are great."

"These guys are great. Born thieves and deceivers."

"These guys are great. Born thieves and deceivers. Like the ravens they live with, they like shiny things, and love secrets even more. You gotta watch ’em, ’cause they’ll set themselves up in a perch somewhere and spy on everything they can."

"You gotta watch ’em, ’cause they’ll set themselves up in a perch somewhere and spy on everything they can."

"Make sure you betray them before they betray you."

"Pretentious, egotistical assholes."

"I think they eat children and drink blood."

"Where’d you hear that word?"

"Okay, are we done with this?"

"That was pitiful. Let me do this."

"I’d watch this guy if I were you, kid."

"They’re all, like, radical feminists and lesbians and stuff."

"Yeah, that’s right, they’re females who have weird ideas about breeding."

"They tend to have trouble controlling their anger, so I’d think twice about starting a fight with one."

" All I’m sure of is that they all act like they’ve got something to prove."

"That means that it’s really easy to push ’em into a frenzy."

"Once you get them angry enough, it’s easy to outwit them."

"Make some smart-ass remark about their riot grrl combat boots, and you’ll have them swinging at anything."

"Here, let me do this one."

"Street people are desperate, no matter what they really are."

"First off, don’t try to poison them. It’s futile. They drink stuff that would make rat’s piss taste like champagne."

"First off, don’t try to poison them."

"They drink stuff that would make rat’s piss taste like champagne."

"Don’t fight them unless you absolutely have to."

"I hear they’ve got all sorts of dark rites they perform when no one’s around. Even if it involves sacrificing humans, I still don’t want to see it.”

"I hear they’ve got all sorts of dark rites they perform when no one’s around."

"Even if it involves sacrificing humans, I still don’t want to see it.”

"I wouldn’t want to meet one of those critters anywhere!"

"Seems they’ve got a habit of going back on their word, or trying to Clinton their way out of trouble."

"I hate these guys."

"I hate these guys. Two words-- Sanctimonious nobles."

"They're just a shadow of who they used to be."

"Now they’re all dangerously inbred, half-insane and overcome with depression."

"I can never tell if one of ’em’s going to kick my ass or challenge me to a game of go."

"Too damn smart for their own good."

" Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"So, anyway, a long time ago I was watching this TV show called In Search Of. You know, with Spock? And they had this story about a place called the Roanoke colony, where there was a bunch of settlers. Pilgrims and shit. And then one day, they all mysteriously disappeared, and the only clue was one word scratched on a tree; Croatan."

"No more crack for you, okay?"

"No, you idiot! That’s it, you’re not doing this anymore!"

"They’re never coming back!"

"All right, let’s wrap this up."

"These guys are no friends of ours."

"They hate chaos and things they can’t control, so they hate rebels like us."

"Nothing worse than a sulky guy who throws lightning bolts."

"His name sounded kinda like a sneeze."

#roleplay meme #roleplay memes #roleplay starters #rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #my meme #my memes #my starters #werewolf the apocalypse #ratkin #world of darkness #out of shirt #okay to reblog

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rpmemesbyarat · 4 years ago

Conversation

RP meme from "Chapter Two:Infesting the World" in The World of Darkness Ratkin Breedbook, Part 2 of 2

"Not everyone follows the same path."

"They just define loyalty by a different set of standards."

"In fact, anything that brings about chaos is good, regardless of the consequences."

" It’s more important to assign blame when something fails."

"Infamy is good enough for them."

"They take pride in the accomplishments of their carefully bred offspring."

"A talented few find reasons to associate with other supernatural creatures."

" They’re high-maintenance relationships, to say the least."

" If you’re wise enough not to trust your own kind, scurry away from these places as quickly as you can."

"Travelers refer to these hideaways as “crash space.”

" After all, no one can give a dirty look like your momma can!"

" The only way to depose such a ruler is to kill him and conspire to take his place."

"If his solution is unpopular, his enemies may attempt to conspire against him, or even kill him."

"Any who fail to depose him will be exiled, crippled, killed or even eaten, depending on how much the ruler hates him."

"This usually involves driving the rage of everyone present to a fever pitch."

"The participants begin by launching into ritual combat, lashing at each other with non-lethal weapons."

"Everyone present turns on each other for a brief while, fighting bitterly over trivial matters until the swarm is full of fury."

"There are reasons for such prolonged isolation."

" The desert isn’t really desolate, after all; it just teems with life most humans don’t recognize."

"Watch your step; from here on out, things get a little strange. . ."

"Sadly, a few of these legends have at least some basis in fact."

"Ever hear odd noises in an old house late at night? You

don’t believe it’s the “house settling,” do you? Do you really think it’s just “hot air expanding in the walls?” Of course not."

" As long as no one goes poking around under the stairs, or gets trapped in the crawlspace under the house, everyone stays happy."

"If you haven’t already been dissuaded from risking your life in one of these otherworldly dimensions, you’d best study up on the spirits who live there."

"Pain-spirits seek out places of suffering, whether it’s inflicted by torture, torment or infection."

"Anyone who owns an electronic device inhabited by this spirit becomes its owner. . .or its victim, depending on your point of view."

“Really, the computer likes it when I sing.”

"I’ve never understood why we have this tradition, though."

" I guess this is a way to hand down the same stereotypes from one generation to the next."

"What, do I sound a little cynical?"

"C’mon, ask me about someone you’ll really have problems with.”

"They like to play pranks on people."

"Crap, you studied for this, didn’t you?"

"You already know about these bastards."

"Don’t tell the boss I told you that, though."

"These guys are great."

"These guys are great. Born thieves and deceivers."

"You gotta watch ’em, ’cause they’ll set themselves up in a perch somewhere and spy on everything they can."

"Make sure you betray them before they betray you."

"Pretentious, egotistical assholes."

"I think they eat children and drink blood."

"Where’d you hear that word?"

"Okay, are we done with this?"

"That was pitiful. Let me do this."

"I’d watch this guy if I were you, kid."

"They’re all, like, radical feminists and lesbians and stuff."

"Yeah, that’s right, they’re females who have weird ideas about breeding."

"They tend to have trouble controlling their anger, so I’d think twice about starting a fight with one."

" All I’m sure of is that they all act like they’ve got something to prove."

"That means that it’s really easy to push ’em into a frenzy."

"Once you get them angry enough, it’s easy to outwit them."

"Make some smart-ass remark about their riot grrl combat boots, and you’ll have them swinging at anything."

"Here, let me do this one."

"Street people are desperate, no matter what they really are."

"First off, don’t try to poison them. It’s futile. They drink stuff that would make rat’s piss taste like champagne."

"First off, don’t try to poison them."

"They drink stuff that would make rat’s piss taste like champagne."

"Don’t fight them unless you absolutely have to."

"I hear they’ve got all sorts of dark rites they perform when no one’s around. Even if it involves sacrificing humans, I still don’t want to see it.”

"I hear they’ve got all sorts of dark rites they perform when no one’s around."

"Even if it involves sacrificing humans, I still don’t want to see it.”

"I wouldn’t want to meet one of those critters anywhere!"

"Seems they’ve got a habit of going back on their word, or trying to Clinton their way out of trouble."

"I hate these guys."

"I hate these guys. Two words-- Sanctimonious nobles."

"They're just a shadow of who they used to be."

"Now they’re all dangerously inbred, half-insane and overcome with depression."

"I can never tell if one of ’em’s going to kick my ass or challenge me to a game of go."

"Too damn smart for their own good."

" Seemed like a good idea at the time."

"No more crack for you, okay?"

"No, you idiot! That’s it, you’re not doing this anymore!"

"They’re never coming back!"

"All right, let’s wrap this up."

"These guys are no friends of ours."

"They hate chaos and things they can’t control, so they hate rebels like us."

"Nothing worse than a sulky guy who throws lightning bolts."

"His name sounded kinda like a sneeze."

#rp meme #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay memes #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #ratkin #wererats #werewolf the apocalypse

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tigerkirby215 · 4 years ago

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5e Nunu and Willump, the Boy and his Yeti build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Riot Games)

You've got a friend in me; you've got a friend in me!

When the road looks rough ahead and you're miles and miles from your nice warm bed... You just remember what your old pal said:

Boy, you've got a friend in me. Yeah, you've got a friend in me!

GOALS

Every adventure is better with a friend! - Nunu is as much a boy as he is the friend of the Yeti.

It's a sword called Svellsongur! - The heart of a child can save the Frejlord, and in his heart is a song.

Gigantulossal snowball! - Ice can be nice, and it’s all in good fun to throw snowballs around!

RACE

Nunu’s a human... but he’s also a small child so we can instead make him a Halfling! As a Halfling your Dexterity score increases by 2. You have Halfling Nimbleness to move through the space of a creature that is bigger than you, and are Brave for advantage against being frightened. But most importantly you are Lucky: if you roll a 1 on a d20 you can reroll the dice! Consider it the yeti magic protecting your childlike innocence.

For subrace Lightfoot Halflings get a +1 increase to Charisma, and they are Naturally Stealthy and able to hide behind creatures that are one size larger than them. Want to play hide-and-seek with Willump? Hide behind him! He’ll never see you!

If you want a bit more magic in your life Lotusden Halflings from Wildemount get some innate (Wisdom-based) spellcasting. Most of it is nature based which isn’t too in-flavor for Nunu, but it’s fun!

ABILITY SCORES

15; CHARISMA - You managed to tame the fearsome yeti with nothing but your young innocence!

14; CONSTITUTION - More of Willump’s Constitution than your own, but the two of you share a health bar after all.

13; WISDOM - Nunu learnt many a lesson about the Frejlord from his mother, and always knows deep down how people feel.

12; DEXTERITY - Along with our racial improvement this is more than enough DEX; you’ll be riding Willump anyways, and he’s kinda bulky.

10; INTELLIGENCE - You’re a kid with child-like naivety, even with your big best friend helping you.

8; STRENGTH - It’s on Willump to do the heavy lifting; not you.

BACKGROUND

Nunu travels around the Frejlord, helping people out and fighting monsters. That’s a Folk Hero if I’ve ever seen one! As a Folk Hero you have Animal Handling proficiency to help Willump, and he has Survival proficiency to help you! You also get proficiency with Land vehicles as well as a tool of your choice. (Any tool will do but maybe keep away from the Brewer’s Supplies? You’re underage!)

Your feature Rustic Hospitality is there for people to help a boy and his yeti. Commoners will always be willing to help you, as long as you aren’t mean and no one mean’s looking for you.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - BARD 1

Of course you’re a Bard! As a Bard you get proficiency with 3 musical instruments, as well as any three skills! A Flute is MANDATORY as Nunu, and I’d suggest the other two wind instruments (Pan Flute / Shawm) as well, but of course pick whatever instrument your mother would teach you. As for skills Persuasion comes naturally to a kind-hearted boy, and your mom taught your plenty of History. You can pick whatever you think will be useful for your third skill but I opted for some Arcana knowledge thanks to Willump.

The main feature of a Bard is Bardic Inspiration. If your friends need a little help you can encourage them with a song on your flute to give them a d6 to an attack roll, ability check, or saving throw. You can inspire people a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier, and for now your inspiration comes back on a long rest.

But of course the other important part of being a Bard is spellcasting! You learn two cantrips from the Bard list: while it isn’t cold damage icy words from Vicious Mockery will let your enemies know that you’re here to defeat them with your big best friend! For some more fun magic Prestigitation will let you do all sorts of fun stuff! Fireworks! Cool pictures! Fire-wait fire? Regardless read the spell over to see all its effects.

For your leveled spells Animal Friendship is good to stop the big bad wolves from harming the townsfolk. Getting Willump to Detect Magic would be helpful, and while healing isn’t something you can normally do everyone appreciates a Healing Word! And for your final spell why not have a good laugh? Tasha’s Hideous Laughter forces an enemy to fall over laughing! All in good fun!

LEVEL 2 - BARD 2

Level 2 Bards get Jack of All Trades, letting you add half your proficiency bonus to any skill check you aren’t proficient in. You’re just a kid, so why not try EVERYTHING?

You also get Song of Rest. When taking a short rest you can play the flute to let anyone who’s recovering health with hit die recover an additional d6 of health. Nothing like stories by the fire.

You also get another spell at this level and there’s nothing like a bit of Heroism to keep fighting until the job’s done!

LEVEL 3 - BARD 3

Third level Bards get Expertise in two skills: Animal Handling will be the best to take care of Willump, and Persuasion will be the best way to unite the Frejlord!

You can also choose your Bard College at third level. Ugh; school? Regardless the College of Valor for a warrior who they sing songs about! As a Valor Bard you get proficiency with martial weapons, shields, and medium armor; that’s why I told you to keep your DEX at 14! Grab medium armor and a shield to keep yourself safe while Willump fights! You also get Combat Inspiration, letting your allies to add your Bardic Inspiration to their AC or their damage die with their weapons, which were basically the only two things you couldn’t add inspiration to before.

You can also now learn second level spells: freeze an enemy over with Hold Person to let your allies pelt ‘em with snowballs! ...Arrows work too...

LEVEL 4 - BARD 4

At fourth level you get an Ability Score Increase: naturally you should increase your Charisma for better Bard stuff! You could also learn another spell but for now I’m going to hold out until...

LEVEL 5 - BARD 5

At 5th level your Bardic Inspiration increases to a d8, which is great because you also get Font of Inspiration to get your inspiration dice back on a short rest!

And we’ve got a lotta magic to learn: one cantrip and two spells. For your cantrip have Willump make some Dancing Lights! For your leveled spells Leomund’s Tiny Hut is a good way to get a good night’s rest. (I feel like now would be a good time to mention that Bards can cast Ritual spells.) For a ranged Absolute Zero try Hypnotic Pattern to incapacitate everyone in a 30 foot cube.

LEVEL 6 - BARD 6

As a Valor Bard you get an Extra Attack at 6th level, allowing you to attack twice. Shame you won’t really be attacking much, but you can grab a sword if you want.

Back to magic! Enemies Abound will make an enemy think their friends are their enemies! I know it sounds confusing but basically they’ll hit anyone who’s close to them, so keep away!

Oh and right: you get Countercharm too. You can use your action to give an ally advantage against a charming or frightening effect. I suppose it’s helpful, and in-character.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 7 - BARD 7

7th level Bards can cast 4th level spells: why not make your own winter wonderland with Hallucinatory Terrain? You can make the terrain in a 150-foot cube in range look, sound, and even smell like some other sort of natural terrain. A snowy landscape is fun and all but this is a really crazy spell that you can do some awesome stuff with: make an enemy fall into a lake that they think isn’t actually there, or make them run around a lake that they think is there. All it takes is a little imagination!

LEVEL 8 - BARD 8

8th level Bards get an Ability Score Increase, so cap off your Charisma to be the best leader of the Frejlord a little boy can be!

You can also learn another spell and to create some more confusion how about the spell Confusion? Each creature in a 10-foot-radius sphere centered on a point you choose within range must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw when you cast this spell or be affected by it. When affected by confusion, they have to think really hard about what they’re doing! Roll a d10 to see what they do, and read the spell yourself to see what it can really do.

LEVEL 9 - BARD 9

9th level Bards see their Song of Rest increase to a d8. Does this ability scale really poorly? Yes!

You know what doesn’t scale poorly? Some 5th level spells! There’s a lot of great spells at 5th level but I’d like some more Absolute Zero. Synaptic Static is one of my favorite spells, doing a ton of psychic damage and also making it harder for enemies to fight!

LEVEL 10 - BARD 10

10th level Bards get a d10 Bardic Inspiration die, Expertise in 2 skills (honestly pick whatever since it’s unlikely you have many skills to choose from), and a new cantrip. (Mending would help if you accidentally break your flute.)

But most importantly: Magical Secrets! I’ve been mentioning Willump a lot but we’ve yet to get our furry friend. Well 10 levels later we can finally grab Find Greater Steed! You can summon any of the spirits listed to act as a mount: they have the statistics provided in the Monster Manual, though it is a celestial, fey, or a fiend instead of its normal creature type. (Fey would probably make the most sense for Willump?) If it has an Intelligence score of 5 or lower its Intelligence becomes 6, and it gains the ability to understand one language of your choice that you speak.

You control the mount in combat, and can communicate with it telepathically if it’s within 1 mile of you. While mounted you can make any spell you cast that targets only you also target the mount. The mount disappears temporarily when it drops to 0 hit points or when you dismiss it as an action, dropping any equipment it was wearing or carrying. Casting this spell again re-summons the bonded mount, with all its hit points restored and any conditions removed.

So... let’s talk Willump: if going by the officially listed creatures in Find Greater Steed’s description a Dire Wolf would probably be the best imitation of Willump, though a Saber-toothed Tiger or even Rhinoceros would also make sense. But if your DM is a cool DM ask them if you could actually summon a Yeti with some of its abilities nerfed.

The rules for mounted combat say that an intelligent creature (which Willump probably would be classified as) rolls for initiative as well, and acts independently. Find Greater Steed mounts will obey your commands thankfully, but if you don’t want to take your turn over two turns then just opt to have the mount move on your turn.

Now here’s where things get a little... Beastmaster Ranger. You know how I made it really hard for you to actually fight in melee range? Ask your DM if your mount can do the attack action instead of you. The way I see it this doesn’t really break anything, and this allows you to get value out of your extra attack at level 6. I really suggest talking about this spell with your DM before you take it as its one of the more overwhelming spells in D&D. But this is the only thing in this build that’s really going to ask a lot from your DM.

Now that everything’s been said about Willump: how about a more simple spell? Cone of Cold is half an Absolute Zero, letting you blast creatures in a 60 foot radius in front of you with ice and snow! It’s a nice, icy trick up your sleeve for a Bard who’s been mostly supportive so far. Yeah: could’ve taken Snilloc’s Snowball Swarm because it has “snowball” in the name, but Cone of Cold is like, a thousand times more awesome!

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 11 - BARD 11

11th level Bards can learn 6th level spells, so how about you take a page from Sona’s book with Otto's Irresistible Dance. Choose one creature to make them dance! Your friends have advantage to hit a dancing enemy, and they have disadvantage on dexterity saves. They can use their action to try to make another save against the effect, but it’s such a fun bard spell!

LEVEL 12 - BARD 12

12th level Bards get an Ability Score Improvement and since our Charisma is maxed out now would be a good time to finally grab the Inspiring Leader feat to help your friends charge into battle!

LEVEL 13 - BARD 13

At 13th level your Song of Rest increases to a d10, but more importantly you can now cast 7th level spells like Mirage Arcane, which is basically just a better version of Hallucinatory Terrain.

LEVEL 14 - BARD 14

14th level Valor Bards get Battle Magic, letting Willump attack as a bonus action after you cast a spell. But more importantly you get more Magical Secrets!

Investiture of Ice from the Elemental Evil Player's Companion is perfect for a boy from the Frejlord. You get immunity to cold damage and resistance to fire and the ability to move across snow and ice without extra movement. Your Frozen Heart makes the area within 10 feet of you difficult terrain for anyone other than you (and I’d argue it wouldn’t be hard for Willump either), and you can use your action to toss some snowballs! Each creature in a 15-foot cone must make a Constitution saving throw or take 4d6 cold damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a success. A creature that fails its save against this effect has its speed halved until the start of your next turn.

For a more controlling Absolute Zero that won’t munch on your spell slots Sleet Storm will summon a blizzard to heavily obscure an area and make it very hard for an enemy to walk through the area.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

LEVEL 15 - BARD 15

15th level Bards get the most inspiration possible with a d12 Bardic Inspiration die! You can also cast 8th level spells but the truth is that the high level Bard spells aren’t too impressive. Regardless Power Word Stun will finally let you, well, stun people!

LEVEL 16 - BARD 16

16th level Bards get another Ability Score Improvement but at this point you can probably invest in some more Feats. Lucky is always nice?

LEVEL 17 - BARD 17

17th level Bards finally see their Song of Rest increase to a d12... yeah this ability scales poorly...

But you get the ULTIMATE YETI POWER of a 9th level spell, and it’s about time for true Absolute Zero! Psychic Scream lets you force up to 10 targets to make an Intelligence saving throw. On a failed save, a target takes 14d6 psychic damage and is stunned. On a successful save, a target takes half as much damage and isn’t stunned. A stunned target can make an Intelligence saving throw at the end of each of its turns. On a successful save, the stunning effect ends.

Oh and their heads explode if this kills them. Just... felt the need to point that out.

LEVEL 18 - BARD 18

18th level Bards get their last two Magical Secrets and I think it’s time for some fun stuff:

Illusory Dragon lets you summon a giant dragon! When the illusion appears, enemies that can see it must succeed on a Wisdom saving throw or become frightened of it for 1 minute. If a frightened creature ends its turn in a location where it doesn’t have line of sight to the illusion, it can repeat the saving throw, ending the effect on itself on a success.

As a bonus action you can move the illusion up to 60 feet. At any point during its movement, you can cause it to exhale a blast of energy in a 60-foot cone originating from its space. When you create the dragon, choose a damage type: acid, cold, fire, lightning, necrotic, or poison. Each creature in the cone must make an Intelligence saving throw, taking 7d6 damage of the chosen damage type on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

The illusion is tangible but attacks miss it automatically, it succeeds on all saving throws, and it is immune to all damage and conditions. A creature that uses an action to examine the dragon can determine that it is an illusion by succeeding on an Investigation check against your spell save DC. If a creature discerns the illusion for what it is, they can see through it and has advantage on saving throws against its breath.

And for your other Magical Secret... Wish. I think you know what Wish does, because it does anything you want! (Within reason.) My suggestion: Wish 1 get your mom back, Wish 2 make Willump your immortal best friend forever, Wish 3... ice cream!

LEVEL 19 - BARD 19

19th level Bards get their last Ability Score Improvement: again look into some good Feats you may want. My suggestion: give Willump some Toughness so you can have a total of 38 extra HP!

LEVEL 20 - WARLOCK 1

Ah I’m just screwing with you.

BARD 20

20th level Bards get Superior Inspiration, allowing them to regain one use of Bardic Inspiration as they roll initiative if they have none when combat starts. Is this a weak capstone? Yeah, but you also get more spells and stuff which is neat too.

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Let's put the venture, in adventure! - For once this isn’t a multiclass nonsense build: just straightforward spellcaster levels. That means you get access to some of the strongest spells available, including Wish thanks to your Magical Secrets!

Battle is the song I came to sing! - You are the king of inspiration: a d12 that allies can add to ability checks, attack rolls, saving throws, damage throws, and their AC! With a d12 of extra AC even the Wizard won’t be hit, and an extra d12 to damage is never a bad thing!

Everyone knows heroes are brave - You are skilled in literally everything thanks to Jack of All Trades, and there’s pretty much zero chance any of your Persuasion checks will fail.

CONS

A Frostguard walks into a mead hall and... - Who would’ve guessed a child isn’t the brightest bulb? The only stat you invested in is Charisma, and while Feats are cool and all your saving throws are rather subpar. Jack of All Trades will still help you with skills but a -1 to Strength saves isn’t great, and a mere +2 to Constitution saves means you’ll drop concentration a lot.

Make way for the yeti! - Some of your spells, especially your lower level ones are fun but very situational. By the time you’re facing some really big bads Heroism and Hideous Laughter will be rather subpar.

Willump's not a monster - Controlling two characters can be hard, and a DM may not be completely okay with it. Be sure to cover everything with them before you go in and summon your yeti pall to fight by your side.

But heroes can’t do everything. I mean they can, but they’ve gotta struggle a bit! Hero’s journey! But a hero is nothing without their mighty steed, their trusted squire... and their best friend.

(Artwork by Riot Games)

#DnD 5e #dnd #dnd build #dnd guide #dnd bard #League of Legends #League of Legends Nunu #League of Legends Nunu & Willump

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vee-angel · 5 years ago

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Talynn’s Edge (part 1, repost)

The following story is an erotic fanfic based on “Sonnie’s Edge,” the 17 minute short film featured as an episode in the Netflix show Love, Death + Robots. It’s not *completely* necessary to have watched it to enjoy this story, but it’d definitely enhance your understanding. A lot of things about this story are a departure from how I normally write, but all in all, I think it turned out well.

Content warnings: Beastly violence, beast on human sex, beast on beast necrophilia, foot fetishism, references to rape and mental illness, vanilla sex (which was literally the hardest part to write, not even kidding), and an American desperately trying to write with British syntax and idioms (If you’re a British person, feel welcome to let me know if I got anything just incredibly wrong).

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

(Part 1)

The new beastie-baiting arenas weren’t the scooped out, jury-rigged shitholes they’d been a year ago. Right around when Khanivore and I cleared our second dozen consecutive win was about when people were saying the sport was set to go legitimate any day now. Still hadn’t happened, but by the size of the audiences, it seemed like things were going that direction quick.

This place had been set up like the old boxing rings, except the ring was actually ring shaped, and dropped to a pit instead of platforming up. Big displays on the walls cycled through beastie-baiting champions; pilot in the foreground with the newest beastie behind them. The losses were greyed out in the way-back, didn’t want to bring too much attention to dead beasties.

I went tense when I saw my picture pixelate in under the “Sonnie’s Predators” logo. Fucking photochoppers had done a bang up job of making me look the way they supposed I ought to. Scars were smoothed out, but not completely, thank god. My tits weren’t that round, and the screen showed some stupid flirty smirk in place of my resting ‘fuck off’ face. I pulled my hood further up. Last thing I need is some Baiter-groupie figuring out I was here.

Nothing technically wrong with a Baiter checking the competition, but I’m not the type for making a spectacle of it. It’s why I had the rest of my team sit this one out.

There was a new Beastie-baiter giving the people their fill of spectacle and blood-sport. Talynn, her name was. A woman, first one since me. Figured it wouldn’t be long until popular demand put the two of us in a ring together, so might as well get a look at her first. I’d heard she was an American, and acted like the wankbait that promoters had always wanted me to be. Also heard she’d spent a few years as a medical examiner, chopping up corpses to see how they’d died. Bitch liked the cameras, always talking about she had expertise on how bodies break down, come apart. Said other baiters only knows how they get put together. After half a dozen consecutive wins and no losses, people were starting to take her serious.

The main lights started to come down and the pit-lights came on. Bright enough in the center to see the spectacle, with the special lights that luminesed the UV reactive ink everybody got on their skins nowadays.

Announcer appeared in the middle making a big show of how we’d all be witness to a show of hedonistic bloodlust the likes of which nobody’d ever seen. Did a decent job of getting the crowd all riled up and cheering. He introduced the Yank, first. Lascivious twat had named her team “Talynn’s Gash.”

She walked out alone, confident with this psychotic babydoll grin that men seem to find alluring for some fucking reason. She wore this skin-tight red bodysuit that looked like slicked-up rubber. She walked right up the the very edge of the pit and squatted down like she was some kind of bird perched there. Her hair was dyed purple and formed into a row of short spikes on top. The sides were buzzed to less than a centimeter with swirly lines shaved down to skin.

Her beastie was introduced a moment later. Talynn’s Gash ran a creature called “Hellcat.” People said she and her beastie had an unnatural connection that goes beyond the affinity link. That she treated Hellcat like some kind of pet. Some even suggested that she did… indecent things with her beastie. Fucking idiots make up rumors about things when they don’t know shit. I’ve never put much stock in gossip.

Hellcat waddled out awkwardly on two thick, stubby legs, looking like something that wasn’t meant to walk upright. Beastie’s were required to be able to walk on two legs, but nothing required them to stay upright once the fight started. It dropped down into a quadrupedal position that looked more natural for it. All in all, it was shaped something like a prehistoric hyena, short coal-black fur with a few crimson stripes going up her legs. Massive jaw-muscles rippling into a stout, colossal neck. Thick limbs terminating in raptorial talons, like an eagle with a few extra fingers and thumbs. But the real eye-catch were the spines. From brow to hips, the back and sides of the beastie was adorned with thousands of long, barbed porcupine needles.

Hellcat went statue still for a moment while Talynn perched at the precipice of the pit looking pleased with herself, then suddenly the creature burst into a cheetah-sprint across the pit. It took a leap out over the edge and sped up the walkway while the spectators jumped back screeching. Creature looked like it was running out of space when stout legs launched it up the wall, it began ascending quickly, scratching deep gouges in the fresh-painted wood. The speed demon barely slowed down ‘til it hit the ceiling. Hellcat jumped with scary explosive velocity spinning and flipping to land with a dense thud back in the center of the pit. God-damn it was fast. Fastest thing on legs I’d ever seen.

By the sound of cheers, the audience got a thrill out of it. Still… reckless to put her beastie so close to the ground. And god-damned disrespectful to fuck up the nice new arena walls.

Other team got introduced with typical fanfare. I wasn’t much worried about them. Gone up against them a few months back; second-rate, nothing special. They were fighting something looked mostly like a minotaur with bone-armor rhinoceros skin. Few thick spikes jutted from the knuckle plates. Minogore, they named it. Beastie looked like it might have cleared three and a half meters, as opposed to Hellcat who was only a bit past two.

With introductions done, it was finally time for bloodsport. Fight lights had barely lit when Hellcat rocketed across the pit and snatched a big, bloody crescent out of Minogore’s shin with its beartrap jaws. Fight went on like that a bit, Hellcat dodging lumbering attacks while taking some chomps out whenever it could. It stayed crouched low to the ground, no way to hit without going through the jagged porcupine needles on her back. Minogore got some glancing blows, but his arms were getting hairy with jagged quills.

Minogore was slowing down on account of the chunks of muscle and bone gnawed off his legs. Hellcat was getting more bold. It dodged another fist smash and bounded up his tree-trunk torso like a squirrel. Latched onto his back and started eating through his shoulder. He ran clumsy toward the edge of the pit to try to smash her against the walls, but she hopped off half a second before he hit. Damage had been done, wet bits of blood and splintered bone dripped from Hellcat’s diamond-hard teeth. Minogore’s right arm hung ragdoll.

Their pilot didn’t give up easy, I’ll give ‘em that. He stumbled back in as Hellcat just stalked around him, lupine-like. His one good arm all pulled up and ready. It feinted like it was going in for the kill, but Minogore didn’t take the bait. Did it a second time, getting closer now; that’s when the beastie’s great big fist crashed down on its back. For a split second I thought the fight was turning until I saw those shiny black spines bending towards the fist, barbs hooking in and sticking against it like they were magnetic. Before he could pull back, Hellcat sprinted, yanking him off his feet like he’d been tied to a racecar. Hellcat spun around with the beatie’s hand still velcro spiked onto it and pounced on his back.

With his one good limb all twisted around behind him pinning him down, he just thrashed as Hellcat had a feeding frenzy on the back of his neck. There was a wet crunch as she finally bit through his spine and the body went limp. The crowd shot to their feet with screaming applause.

I looked over at Talynn to see how she was taking her win. She breathed hard with bedroom eyes. Touching herself sensual through her rubber catsuit. She was getting her jollies from this. I heard the crowd starting in with these shocked gasps and looked back into the pit. Hellcat had gotten the late Minogore’s head ripped right off and was holding it up in triumph. It was back up on two legs, but there was this thing between its legs.

Down at the very bottom of its belly was something looked like a big, red dogcock sprouting stiff from a skin-sheath. Hellcat dropped the head and grabbed the beastie’s neckstump as it crouched down and started humping her beastly prick into the wound. Unbefuckinglievable.

Minogore’s pilot started on with a stream of frantic threats and obscenities across the pit at Talynn. She didn’t seem to notice on account of being distracted by the sensations of necro-rapin’ the poor beatie’s corpse that were coming to her brain through Affinity. She was down on all fours touching herself through the bodysuit while she was piloting her beastie to defile her enemy’s remains. The other pilot stormed out, not wanting to watch any more.

Twisted bitch finally finished her show of live-action bestial snuff porn, leaving Minogore’s headless body dripping with spunk. Couldn’t believe she’d actually built a beastie with functioning parts like that. Most Baiters don’t put in anything that isn’t absolutely essential. At best they give just enough vocals so as it can growl and snarl. Talynn and Hellcat left the stage to the sound of an applauding crowd that was looking about to see if everyone else witnessed the same surreal fuck-show they’d just watched.

I kept my hood up and my head down as I shuffled out of the arena with the rest of the spectators. Afterwards, made my way to an out of the way chippy restaurant a few blocks down to process and strategize. Sat down and ordered the specialty. Talynn and I were going to get paired off sooner rather than later, and that beastie of hers was a damn frightful thing to contend with. It took out limbs before going in for the kill; that’s where Khanivore would have an advantage. Two arms, two legs, four bone-spear tentacles, and the bladed head. That gives nine appendages for Hellcat to neutralize before she can kill me. Khanivore’s a good bit faster than the great, burly brutes she usually fights, but nothing compared to Hellcat. Thing moves like it’s got a rocket up its arse. We could maybe get a quick little drone so Khanivore could get in some practice. Or do things analogue-like and pick up a pack of rabbits, maybe. Make for good stew after, anyway.

Just then I noticed a pair of eyes boring into me from a table off to the side. I glanced back. Fuck. It was Talynn. Her and her team must have waltzed in while I was playing out fight scenarios in my head.

She stood up and glided smooth right on over to me, eyes staying locked on my scar-striped face. She sat down across from me looking like she was ready to pounce, except not at all hostile. She moved with this weird felinity made her seem not quite human. I figured I’d been found out and there was no point in pretending I hadn’t been doing what I was doing. Felt awkward, though.

“Hey... congratulations on the win tonight. Figured what with us being the only two female pilots in the sport, promoters would have us face off eventually. Wanted to see what we’d be up against.” I sounded a bit more nervous than I wanted, but she didn’t seem to notice. Just kept staring.

“I idolize you, Sonnie.” she said in this awestruck little voice, “I don’t care if you were watching me. God knows I’ve watched you and Khanivore. You’re a warrior; bestial rage and savagery. I honestly get a little wet when I watch you.” She said the last bit looking straight into my eyes without a whisper of shame. Randy bitch got me blushing.

She was real pretty up close, too. Shit, I’d always been a bit soft for the pretty ones. Waitress brought my food a moment later and I offered to share with Talynn. Her team was getting a bit rowdy over in their corner, but her venerating eyes never left me for a moment. We ate and talked flirtatiously until she invited me back to her room.

I told her we’d better go to mine instead. I got caught up with a pretty thing a while back that had ended up with me having a couple more face-scars and a skull that’d been rebuilt twice now. I’m extra careful since.

As we headed the few blocks back to the room I’d got for the night, Talynn kept looking down at where I was walking, like she was fixated or something. When I asked her about it, she got this nervous look like I’d caught her staring at my tits, and then she changed the subject.

Back in my room I had her strip the moment she got through the door. The red bodysuit didn’t leave much room for hidden tricks, but I couldn’t be too careful. She had a cute body, a bit of rich-girl softness, but not too much, and that bit of a tan that American girls have. I noticed a mess of little white lines down her left arm and across her belly; looked self-inflicted with a razor. She’d used to be a cutter, but I’m in no place to be judgemental. She stood confident with arms akimbo, except her eyes were still downcast to the floor I was standing on.

“You got a thing for feet or something?” I asked teasingly. She responded by shifting with this coy little grin. “Oh fuckin’ hell! You do, don’t you??” She nodded.

I hopped up on the dresser bit of the hotel room and crossed one leg over the other. I pointed one of my street-blackened feet at her, “All right, well get on with it then.” She got this look on her face like I’d just told her she’d won a million quid.

She drifted down onto all fours real graceful and started coming towards me. The girl moved like she was born quadrupedal; made sense she’d practice getting the feel of it to drive Hellcat the way she did. Writhing muscles in her back made me think she might be stronger than she looked, but there wasn’t much she could do to my feet that’d remove me as a rival so I wasn’t worried. Not yet, at least.

She came up and pressed her face against the sole, all reverent-like. I’d heard about people who get off worshipping feet, even got fan-letters from a few, but I didn’t peg Talynn as the submissive type. Then again, she seemed up-for-anything when it came to displays of carnality. Her tongue dripped out of her mouth and slid it slowly from heel up to my toes before she began fellating the digits. It felt… weird. There was an unfamiliar kind of pleasure in it I hadn’t expected, like a finger in the ass.

She flossed her tongue between each of my toes in turn, then pinched the skin at the side real gentle between her teeth. She worked her way back, biting a bit harder as the skin thickened up. It hurt just barely enough to make it interesting. Eventually, she was literally nipping at my heels. I wondered if she’d be appreciative of the poetry of that, but decided to keep my mouth shut about it.

The little footbath she gave me with her gob lasted a good ten minutes. “You’re done” I told her in this dominating tone I guessed she’d like. She looked up at me with this little puppy-dog pout. “It’s my turn, get on the bed. Face up.”

She hopped over, staying on all fours like a good little pet. I pull a set of police style handcuffs out of the drawer and use them to fasten her wrists around the bars in the headboard. She smiled like she thought it was kinky. Truth is I just don’t like surprises from my one-nighters, especially not the ones who’re stark mad like Talynn.

I start kissing at her neck and work my way down, fingertips trailing behind. Cute little Baiter had nice soft tits, so I took my time on those. I figured she liked things a bit rough, on account of the happy little gasp she let out when I grabbed hard and dug my fingernails in. She had these puffy pink little nipples I grabbed and twisted hard. She squealed but still had this toothy grin on her face. At that point I sucked as much of her titmeat into my mouth as I could and bit down. Not too hard, just enough to leave a momento that’d last a couple days. Gave her a matching bite mark on the other side before returning to my pilgrimage down to her smooth little quim.

Between her legs tasted like a rich girl. You could tell the ones that ate all fresh organic grown shit. I put my hands on the inside of each leg and pried her wide open. Bendy little cunt, nearly got her into a full split. I gave a few slow kisses on the lower lips before I got to work. Buried my tongue inside her before I started using it to write out the alphabet. It was a trick I’d heard way back before I’d had my first fuck. Not too effective on it’s own, I’d learned, but pay attention and you can figure out the right spots to hit. Talynn liked the side to side and when I did little circles around her clit. T’s and Z’s and O’s hit the spots for her. Also liked when I raked my nails up and down the inside of her thighs. Got into a nice rhythm for a while, licking and sucking and scratching a bit harder each time I switched it up. The girl was breathing harder and shorter, and started in with this happy little mewling.

I stopped suddenly and pulled away just as she was edging right close to the point of no return. Looked up at her to see her staring daggers at me, but her mad little smirk said she was still having fun. “Bitch!” she said at me in this I-can’t-believe-you-did-that tone.

“Can’t have you falling in love with a rival Baiter, can we? You might get soft when you’re in the pit. Don’t want any doubt when I take down that beastie of yours that I did it fair.”

Talynn barked out this arrogant laugh, then suddenly she… changed. The little babydoll act turned sinister, and she got this air of menace dripping off of her. The cute little fan-girl was speaking in this deep dark voice all of a sudden. “You think Khanivore is going to take me down?” Her tone seemed real arrogant for a bitch that was naked and handcuffed on my bed. “We’re unbeatable. You may have seen Hellcat in action, but you don’t know what we’re capable of.”

She had my interest piqued with that one. “You and your beastie got a secret edge, do you?”

Her grin turned sinister, “If you’re lucky, you might figure it out right before I fuck your beastie’s corpse. Then, I’ll fuck you until you scream. And this time, I won’t let you escape until I’m satisfied.”

This time I actually laughed a bit as the mad cunt thought she could menace me in her predicament. “And what are you going to do if I win, then? That mean I get to fuck you ‘til I’ve had my satisfaction fulfilled?”

She shrugged, “I guess so.”

“That a promise?”

She stared into my eyes real intense while she considered. “Winner fucks the loser any way they choose. I promise if you do.”

I nodded and then opened a drawer to toss her the handcuff key. It landed by her head and she seemed to have no problems with holding it in her mouth and twisting round to get her wrists undone. She started slipping back into the red, rubber skinsuit when she got inquisitive. “They say you got raped by a gang that carved you up afterwards.” She said the words way more casual than any sane person ought to, “That’s where you got all those pretty scars. They also say it made you angry, and hard. And that’s why you always win. Is that true?”

“It’s true that’s what they fucking say, yeah.”

Talynn asked, “Does it turn you on?” I shot back with this face that said what the fuck? But she just kept on with this dreamy-dark look on her face. “Knowing that they wanted to hurt you, to violate you. Does it make you wet when you look in the mirror and see the love letters they wrote to you in your flesh? It’s kind of beautiful when you think about it. They wanted to give you a gift they knew you’d keep forever.”

“Are you fucking mental?!”

This gash of a shit-eating grin opened up across her face as she looked back at me, “Can’t have you falling in love with a rival Baiter, can we? You might get soft.”

I shook my head, she was just fucking with me to get a bit of payback. That was fair enough. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a goddamn psychopath?”

“I’m told it’s one of my better qualities.”

“Look, I’ll be honest with you. The estate gang bit’s a fabrication. Got into a mishap and flipped my van a while back... I ain’t never been raped.”

Talynn had her clothes back on at this point, what little of them there was. She walked up to me real close and said, “Well if you want to keep it that way, you’d better start training.” Then she walked out of my room with this conceited expression that made me want to bash her skull into pudding.

Yankee bitch was a spoiled twat, and fucking certifiable, but she’ll be a hell of a rival.

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“Sonnie is amazing.” I spoke the words into the mostly empty warehouse to my precious Hellcat. In truth, I was talking to the other part of myself through the Affinity Link, perceiving the world through two bodies at once. She was the real Talynn; the warrior, the sadist… the beast. She appeared as my savior when I was a child. A monster strong enough to overcome the ones that surrounded me. Doctors called her a ‘dissociative identity” and told me I needed treatment to get rid of her. Bullshit. Talynn was my avenging angel, she didn’t need treatment. She needed a body of her own, and a regular supply of monsters to keep her bloodlust sated.

The beast and I mirrored one another, stalking in excited circles. “We’ll need to train if we want to beat her. And I know you want to beat her, don’t you, Talynn? It will be so beautiful. Khanivore will make such a beautiful corpse-lover for you, don’t you think? I’ll keep us linked for afterwards, so you can watch me violate Sonnie in the back room. She’s such a beautiful thing, isn’t she, my love?” My naked body writhed at the thought as I laid down upon a large metal crate. My throbbing cunt overflowed with lubrication. Sonnie refused to give me an orgasm, and I wouldn’t be able to rest until I was satisfied.

“Sonnie is mine, Tara-Lynn.” The words snarled through my own vocal chords, but the voice wasn’t my own. Speaking was the only thing Talynn used my body for, everything else she did with Hellcat.

“What? No, she didn’t know she was talking to you when she agreed. She doesn’t-”

“I want them both!! I will violate Khanivore’s corpse and then I will drag Sonnie into the pit and fuck her in the blood of her beastie.” Talynn animated Hellcat’s face into a menacing scowl as she spoke.

“Oh.” was all I said at first. “The audience will enjoy that.” I finally added.

“As will you, Tara-Lynn. You always enjoy feeling through my body. I know you do. She’ll be so small, so tight as we rape her to death.”

I had to admit it was true, I always loved feeling sex through Hellcat. At that, Talynn directed Hellcat’s massive body to climb atop my own, I had to be careful to avoid the talons and spines. My legs spread eagerly as my beloved’s red cock tumesced beyond her sheath. She slowly pressed it between my legs and found no resistance as our bodies joined as closely as our minds.

Hellcat rocked my body as she began slowly, but powerfully, thrusting her beastial phallus inside of me. I squealed in rapturous pleasure as I felt her knot slowly expanding inside me, binding me to her. Talynn directed her thrusts to quicken in pace. I lay passively, knowing that any errant movement could cause my accidental mutilation and possible death upon the deadly anatomy of our murderous beast.

I perceived our lovemaking alongside Talynn through Hellcat’s body as well. The sensory nerves she insisted be grafted to her cock allowed me to feel the tightness of my cunt gripping. I felt her thick muscles above me, saw through eyes looking down at me. How easy it would be for her to end my life if Talynn directed her to do it. She could easily fuck me to death if she’d willed it. The thought raised goosebumps on my skin.

Talynn slowed the pace of the frantic thrusting inside of my cunt. Hellcat could reach orgasm more quickly than I could, and I wanted to climax with her simultaneously. We closed our eyes and let our minds play an image . We pictured Sonnie beneath us, her beautiful scarred body laid bare. The thought of butchering her beast in front of a cheering audience, and then dragging her into the pit for us to fuck bloody put us over the edge. It wasn’t the first time we’d fantasized about such a thing, but it was the first time since she’d agreed to it, the first time since we’d felt her touch in real life. Winner fucks the loser to satisfaction. She promised.

Hellcat began to cum, filling my spasming cunt, pumping near scalding hot jets of artificial semen inside of me. God how I want Sonnie to feel this. I want to feel this with her. I will feel this with her. Hellcat is unstoppable. Sonnie is going to be mine.

#talynnsedge

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pen-whipped · 5 years ago

Text

∞ Wold in an Inch ∞

~for Carlton & Erica~

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∞ Prologue ∞

Never give ‘em the last inch was scratched on the wall of the jail cell next to several pairs of initials with hearts drawn around them. A 12’ X 10’ holding tank decorated with similar slogans and signatures where people seem to have thought about only two things while they were here: holding on to one final piece of anything to control and … Love. The walls, ceiling, and floor were coated with thick grey paint where the scriptures were etched; and a metallic bench, toilet, and sink matched all the blandness. Here I realized that one of the greatest motivators of the world is Love. I thought of The Trojan War. Boudicca’s Rebellion against Rome for her daughters. Rama and Sita. Fairytales and over-stretched history, of course. I also thought about ... Nationalism—the disgusting love of country. Racism—the even more disgusting love at the expense of its hatred for others. Capitalism—the love of material goods beyond need and necessity, at the expense of others. Religion—the love for some version of god or gods and the ideals and values that uphold that version. Movements and Rebellions in the name of Love. And so of course I thought about Ernesto “Che” Guevara and how when asked by a reporter, “What inspires a revolutionist,” he responded after a pause and a grin. “Amor” (Love), he said.

I realized then that the other motivator of the world is this power structure that harnesses the actions of those motivated by Love or some extension of Love such as jealousy, desire, passion, rage. Of the two locals I was locked up with, in this small shithole Texas bo-dunk town, one hospitalized a man who slept with his wife and the other had a physical fight with his own wife. A third man loved a woman so much that he joined the carnival she was part of so as to not ever be without her, and thereby revoked his probation. And me … I was headed to a wedding from Colorado to Austin, TX, where my best friend had claimed the love of his life.

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∞ Rite of Passage ∞

You forget these people exist. Even having been raised around them, with them, and by them, you just forget. I was born and raised in Texas, in their jungle like Tarzan with gorillas. And that’s actually the perfect analogy because right when the state trooper says to me, “With a Black in the White House, Queers havin’ a Christian’s marriage, and dope bein’ legalized all over God’s good country, you just cain’t be too careful these days,” what comes to mind is the evolution chart where a drawing of a man standing upright is preceded by different hunchbacked ape-like creatures. Here, barely across the border into the Texas panhandle, knuckles still drag on the ground. You spend over a decade in the land where people walk upright and you forget the knuckle draggers exist.

Karl Marx tells us that killers first make an enemy of their victims before killing them. This is how the crime is justifiable. Such sociopaths have the same characteristics of a nation that makes an enemy of another nation before destroying it. America and its fictitious WMD ploy that led to the Hussein regime’s demise. A nation ran by a Texan. “Now that’s when the country had its head on straight,” he says peeking through his rearview mirror at me behind the glass that separates the front seat from the back.

Red neck adages—they’re like poetry without everything poetic.

“A good Christian was pullin’ the reigns then,” he continues.

I wonder why they speak in parables—southern draw riddles filled with similes and metaphors. His “Christians,” sound more like “Chrust-yens.” I get it. The same way Jesus’ parables made all the rest of the world understandable for the knuckle draggers in his time, so do the redneck adages for our time. And they loves them some Jesus too. He’s everywhere.

I could take his last adage a million different directions other than the one these handcuffs connected to the yellow rope ran through them and around my waist and back up through my thighs insists that I do. He’s fucking hogtied me. I look at the cuffs and yellow rope and think how man is the cruelest of all animals, for a dog would only bite another dog, but we … we shackle and belittle, demoralize and strip identities, rape and enslave, indebt and un-educate one another to the point that we ourselves forget that others are living, breathing human-fucking-beings. But, even with this in mind, I say with a hint of delight, “And we was all better off when it was,” leaning forward to the hole in the glass divider, referring to when a good Southern Chrust-yen led the nation. Never mind that it was war, poverty, and a greater divide between the classes that he led us to.

To reverse Marx’s notion of the killer, if the victim can make the killer identify him or her as one of the killer’s own, or at the very least as a human being, then the victimization is more likely to cease or at minimum the inflictions lose harshness.

There’s a Bible in the front seat, and I’ve heard numerous Chrust-yen references and seen two crucifixes since I was pulled over: one around the narcotics officer’s neck and one dangling from this trooper’s mirror. So I continue, “Yes, sir. My uncle’s lil’ chapel in Amarillo donated all they could to support both Bushes, Junior and his daddy.” (There’s no chapel. No donations. The point is that I too am a Christian, and even greater so, I too am a Texan—though I was born in Texas, I am neither a Christian nor a Texan; he, however, should believe that I am both).

His eye brows perk up. He glances twice in the mirror before saying, “You from Texas?”

“Yes, sir. Born ‘n raised,” I pronounce with a draw that would win me an Academy nomination. “Up north they still make fun’a my accent.” He tells me he didn’t even notice the accent till now. “I hide it so much, ya know. So’s to not get made fun of up ‘er in Colorado.” … and so the game goes until I’m a human being, and then eventually I’m one of his own and he’s telling me about his family, his farm, his career, and finally I get him to admit why he stopped me. This is only an inch, but it’s something.

I’d like to thank The Academy, first; then my rhetoric teacher; followed by my redneck uncles for the southern draw and simplified grammar.

He’d been claiming I was driving over the speed limit, even though that’s anything but true. Since I don’t have a driver’s license, I kept to the limits the entire drive and planned on it all the way to my destination. Never once drove 5mph more than the limit. And so each time I’d asked how much over the limit he clocked me at, he’d just say not to worry since he’s droppin’ that charge.

“Reason I’m takin’ you in is cuz drivin’ without a DL is breakin’ the law here in Texas.”

But the reason he pulled me over … the reason two K9 Units parked on both sides of my rental car only minutes after I was pulled over … the reason the narcotics officers gave me the 3rd degree interrogation about drug trafficking … is, as he says from under his ten gallon hat, Colorado just passed a law legalizing marijuana, and well, “With a Black in the White House, Queers havin’ a Christian’s marriage … dope legalized in God’s country … you just can’t be too careful these days.”

“Now listen,” he goes on to say, “I realize I’m ‘bout as tight as bark on a tree when it comes to the law. Some may’a just gave ya a ticket and sent ya on yer way, but I believe it’s just as likely fer you to sneak back ‘cross the state line and never return to pay for yer crime. You’d just be whistlin’ Dixie up ‘er like you’d never did nothin’ wrong down here. This a’way,” he says, “You have to wait and see the judge in the mornin’. Pay yer dues and what not.”

I’m shackled like a killer who’d forgot to make an enemy of his victim first. Hogtied like a baby pig that’d escaped the pen. A one-time freed slave who’d left the North and returned South only to be caught without his emancipation papers. I’m thinking in redneck adages. I was driving without a fucking driver’s license for crying out loud!

More laws lead to more crimes lead to more criminals lead to more jobs to catch, house, and process the criminals, which lead to more revenue leading ultimately to more money circulating within the system. Criminals are filters for the process in this way, lab rats exploited for the greater good, space monkeys for the ruling knuckle draggers. Karl Marx claims that in capitalistic societies, the people are concerned more about money and commodities than they are other human beings.

Dogs, on the other hand, well … they just bite one another.

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∞ Crossing the Threshold ∞

It’s hard to believe Nietzsche’s claim that we should celebrate the rebel for reminding us of our enslavement to the system when I’m told to strip all my clothes off and lift my dick and nuts up to show that nothing’s stashed away in some secret compartment.

The first steps to make a slave of an individual are to separate them from their own kind and then strip them of their identity. Separate the rebel from his support group and give him the title criminal, thereby giving a less lustrous title and making the act of any rebellion lose any glory to others contemplating similar actions.

Ranchers hang dead wolves on fence posts for similar reasons. Other wolves are deterred from entering land when they see the carcass of what was one of their own that dared to “trespass.”

Romans left messiahs hanging on crosses to discourage other messianic aspirations.

A simple change in titles shows the power of words.

They take my cell phone and my wallet with all its contents including cash and ID card. No contact. No identity. They take my clothes, which could in many ways show identity. And as I hold my dick and nuts in my hand and he gazes long and hard at my taint, I think, I just didn’t have my mother fucking driver’s license, though I dare not utter a word.

To fight monsters is to become one, Nietzsche says.

I’m handed a green jump suit and a pair of flip-flops, and with that, a new identity. I am no longer the rebel who dared to drive to his best friend’s wedding without a driver’s license; I am now a criminal in the Republic of Texas. I’m a fucking dead wolf on a fence post. Jesus hanging next to others who did not abide by the law.

I am one step closer to the beast’s belly as they seat me next the woman who’s only job is to tag the slaves and send them to their quarters.

“98% of Colah’rahdins that we pull over have marijuana on ‘em. That’s statistically,” she says popping her gum and not taking her eyes off the computer screen for one moment.

I’m not human to her. I’m a product with a barcode that she runs across the scanner. I’m an enemy, soon to be a victim. A rebel turned criminal. I am not one of her kind.

“They come in here cryin’, talkin’ ‘bout how it’s legal up in Colah' rahda. Well it ain’t down here. Those types is ‘bout as welcome as a skunk at a lawn party.”

She’s as poetic as the trooper. Stoic.Short, round, and full of attitude. Dedicated to a system that is more unjust to those who are of no concern to it than it is unjust to those who are offensive to it. Another Nietzsche claim.

As a new challenge arises within me, I notice something in myself that I begin to notice in all human nature. I want to break this preset image she has prescribed me with, partially as a challenge of wits, but also because I want to get as much as I can from her, however little it may be. Even if … it’s just an inch. With the trooper gone and the officer who checked my taint nowhere to be found, this lady has current reign over me like a slave master.

I start the game with the presupposed idea she has of me. I can’t speak in a dialect that makes me sound ignorant and fitting to the image she has of all who come through here; and I can’t speak from the education level I have that is far above her own. I have to speak plainly. To her. Not above, nor below. All we have in common at this point is our current relationship. And that’s enough to work with.

The strategy behind me telling her, “I bet you see the worst of the worst,” is to separate myself from those who are in fact the worst of the worst. And she responds to this.

“You have no idea.”

Now, to connect more with her, I say, “Well, my cousin’s a prison guard at the federal penitentiary in Colorado; and he tells me that every four years a prison guard works, what it does psychologically to him or her is equal to what one year does to a prisoner. You’re still behind bars and surrounded by criminals in here. Man, I feel for ya’.” Now, I’ve further separated myself from the criminals she’s used to and have shown that I am more on her side of the law, even if just through a relative. I’ve also dabbled in some sort of empathy of her situation, shown understanding as to why she wears that frown and never looks a processee in the eyes.

“This job has made me never trust men again; I’ll tell ya’ that much,” she says. “Don’t get me wrong,” and for the first time she turns her head and looks me in the eyes, “I ain’t no fuckin’ carpet muncher though.”

I’m in. Ten minutes later and she’s laughing with me and barely asking the questions the computer screen tells her to: do I have this ailment or that ailment, am I suicidal or have I ever been suicidal, am I addicted to drugs or have I ever been…and so on.

“Listen,” I say during one of the most intense moments of laughter shared between us, “Can I ask a favor of you?”

Her posture shoots straight up and her frown returns. She doesn’t look me in the eyes anymore and she certainly does not laugh. She says, “I don’t know ‘bout that.”

“Calm down,” I tell her with a smile, “All I want to know is if you can prolong this processing. I ain’t gonna lie, an extra moment spent out here laughing with you is greater than any moment spent in the holding tank.”

An extra moment is an inch.

I see her body ease from its defenses. “You mean you ain’t ready to paint your butt white and go runnin’ with the antelope just yet, huh?” And she smiles.

“No, ma’am, I ain’t.”

All I’d done with the trooper was try to get anything I could from him, even if it was just the admission to why he pulled me over. With her I want as much time out of the holding tank as possible, or at the very least, same as with him, I want her to see me as a human being.

I think about life outside of here, how all we do in life is try to get a little more than we have from those who are in control of us or in control of the things we want. A nickel raise from our boss. A better position in the workforce. A higher grade from a teacher. Equity on homes. More square footage in our lofts. Return on investments. Sex from a lover. Devotion from a lover. Love, period. All we want is to get a little more of the control that controls us. And then Nietzsche comes to mind:

This world is a will to power, he says, and nothing besides.

A new rebel comes in and this lady has me stand in a corner while she processes him. She does this twice more before I realize she’s stalling for me. Rather than process me and have them wait their turns, she goes through them first; thus allowing my processing to be prolonged. I am now a human being.

After the third rebel passes through and into his new criminal identity, she finishes my questions, finger prints, and mug shots; and then says, “That was the best I can do. It’s time.”

I thank her. Tell her it’s more than enough.

“Now, walk down that hall to the laundry room," she motions the direction with her hand, "And then we’ll get ya’ in that tank”

She follows me. Doors buzz open as we arrive at them. In the laundry room she tells me to grab a mat, a sheet, and a blanket, all of which are stacked neatly on different shelves next to industrial size washers and dryers. “If you want two blankets, I can do that for you too; but you’re gonna have to deal with the others bein’ jealous.”

“Gladly,” I say.

“Then unroll ‘em and roll ‘em back up together so it looks like a mistake was made.”

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∞Belly of the Beast∞

“It’s gonna be about 12 hours before the judge is in,” she says as the door shuts behind me. The three rebels from earlier are sprawled out on the floor. Same jump suit as me. Same blankets. Same matts. Same flip-flops next to the matts. We are one and the same.

The messiah on his cross did not stand out from the murderer or the thief on theirs.

One lifts his head up and slides his pallet over to make room for me. “Don’t shit unless you absolutely have to,” he says looking at the silver toilet fully exposed in the corner. As he rolls over and back to sleep, he continues, “Even dogs don’t shit where they lay.” The others never move. I make my bed, careful not to reveal that I have two blankets.

I lie in utter silence.

I think first about Martin Luther King, JR and his Letter from Birmingham Jail, where he too was arrested for being, as his jailers claimed, an unwelcomed outsider in their state. Though I dare not think my circumstances are remotely comparable to his and his time in the Alabama jail, I am reminded of him saying in his letter, Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.

And though I was not racially profiled, I was indeed profiled. With a Black in the White House, Queers getting married, and dope legalized all over, a change is slowly coming—a change that threatens the way of life where these types of comments are made. To a far smaller degree, my green and white Colorado license plates are Martin’s black skin. And, with everything stripped from me, I lie here experiencing what Martin called, nobodyness.

This cold, horizontal floor is the belly in the beast of order. All laws, all virtues, all values—all of which are based on perspective, are the means to make order from the seemingly chaotic. And this is the bottom of that order. The exploited who arrive here, or any floor like this one anywhere, are merely, as Nietzsche claims of all exploitations, consequences of the will to power, which is after all the will to life.

I’ve become the consequence of a way of life fighting to sustain itself. I represent the other life that strives to grow, spread, seize, and become predominant - not from any morality or immorality but because it is living and because life simply is… again and again I claim with Nietzsche and experience it now more than ever … a will to power.

I'm sorry that I can't praise the police department. It is true that they have been disciplined in their public handlings, but for what purpose? To preserve an evil system. I try to make it clear that it is wrong to use immoral means to attain moral ends. But now I must affirm that it is just as wrong, or even more, to use moral means to preserve immoral ends. So said Martin Luther King JR in that letter he wrote from jail.

I imagine the letter I’ll write, and think that it has to be dedicated to my best friend and his new bride. Like the little drummer kid in the manger banging bongos next to bay Jesus’ crib, this letter is all I have to give. And in it I’ll mention how I thought mostly of Marx, Nietzsche, King JR, Lacan, and Campbell. It will only be a matter of time, I think, and I’ll be out of here and writing my own Letter from a Texas Jail.

That very matter of time stretches beyond all previously known flexibilities for time. No prior concept of it exists in here. I clear my thoughts of King JR when one of my fellow mates awakens and asks a passing guard for Tylenol. And when the guard returns with a bottle of pills and a sign-off sheet, he asks the guard what the time is. I’d been to Birmingham and visited the King in his cell after I watched him protest with non-violent means he’d learned from Gandhi, saw him arrested by bigots with faces as stoic and prescribed with presupposed ideals of particular people as that of the lady who’d processed each of us in this cell, I sat next to King JR while each pen stroke gave birth to one of the most widely anthologized letters of our time, and when the guard looks at his watch and says, “a quarter to midnight,” I am in utter disbelief.

You can fit days inside the minutes of a jail cell, so I learn. Centuries in its hours.

The other two wake and ask for Tylenol too, admitting quietly amongst ourselves that they don’t need it. “You might as well take what you can get around here,” one says. And it’s at this moment that we all introduce ourselves for the first time and then tell our tales of capture. After this the conversation goes directly to, and never leaves the topic of, pussy. The variations of pussy from looks to feel, from hair lengths to shaved, from menstruating bloody to (what each of them agrees is the best of all pussies:) pregnant pussy. “I wouldn’t know, honestly, never have had that kind,” I say.

But what I really want to say is …

I want to tell the guy who beat his wife’s lover to a pulp about how Jacques Lacan took one of Sigmund Freud’s studies a layer deeper than Freud himself did. Freud demonstrates that at times children will not want to play with a toy, nor will they care at all about a particular toy, until another child wants to play with it. Lacan studied infant twins who could neither speak nor barely move more than their arms and heads, but would easily and obviously be overcome with a fit of jealous rage when the other sibling would suckle from the mother’s breast. I imagine this guy probably not wanting much to do with his wife until someone else did. He threw a fit like an infinite. Something intrinsic in us seems to want to control everything, even if it is only the desire of the other. A child would rather destroy a toy it cared nothing about than to see another child enjoy that very same toy. It’s about control, holding on to every inch within reach.

I want to ask the other cell mate why he beat his wife. He never tells why they fought, but I'm certain it can be connected to Freud’s idea of the Ego being projected from within us and into our outwardly real world surroundings, creating all things we fear and hate, as well as all things we desire and love. This means all things externally felt and imagined are more than directly related to our inner selves; they are, more particularly, our inner selves externalized. Buddhists have a similar belief that all enemies are only such because we have made them so. No one is our enemy whom we have not made be; and furthermore who our enemy is says more about us than them. These ideas combined mean that all things are manifestations of the Ego. We set all challenges and obstacles in our own way. And so I wonder about this other cell mate of mine; what could he have projected from within himself onto the woman that birthed his children; what fear or hatred brewed inside himself so much that he beat the shit out of her as if she was the embodiment of that abstraction from within himself. I wonder…

I want to discuss the carnival love. This guy loved a woman and didn’t want to be without her, but he’s been cycled and recycled in the system since he was a teenager, and so he had to rebel against an order to be with her. He committed a crime as a child and has been paying for it since through a series of revocations and so on. He’s one of the oldest in our cell but he has a childlike quality to him, an innocence that none of us possess, as if this system has kept him in the state he was in when he committed his crime. I think about Nietzsche saying that at one time in history, people who wronged others in their social group were punished with a severity that equaled the crime; and after that punishment, not only did they not repeat the offenses, but they also were considered to have paid their debt for the offense. Nietzsche claimed in the late 19th century (and I would claim is even more the case in our 21st century) that nowadays people pay for a crime for the remainder of their lives, whether it be through the inability to acquire decent work based on criminal records or it be the continuous revocation of the same crime committed decades prior. The overall goal for the endless un-reconciliation is one similar to medical industries not wanting to find a cure for ailments. People dependent upon and stuck within the system become filters for the process of monetary circulation and are best kept as such, as lab rats for the greater good, as space monkeys for the knuckle dragggers.

I’m thinking these things, though I dare not utter a word of them. Instead, I join in with the dogs and bark about the variations of bitches and pussies as I know them. I would separate myself from the pack if I were to provide my insight to anything other.

It’s here I realize we’re all in this cell due to some relation to love, even if by some extension of it: jealousy, passion, and so forth. I represent the beginning stages: a wedding. The carny represents the next: giving up the self for love and fulfilling the desire of the other. The guy who beat his wife is some stage nearer the end, either right before or directly after she cheats on him. And thus the final stage, the guy beats the wife’s new lover to a pulp. And the cycle is complete in a way that makes an enemy of Love and thereby justifies the system that controls it.

I wonder if it all is really, rather than being about love … is all this … is life and the control of it all really about … I mean … could it be that as the dogs in this kennel discuss nothing more than … could all of life, directly or indirectly, really be about pussy? This is, of course, from a man’s perspective; we could say “cock” for a woman’s, or perhaps some ambiguous sexual connotation to encompass both genders (Freud and Lacan would say both genders are phallic, for even the lack of something is the representation of that something that is missing).

I wonder ... Is love really our own childlike want to control a vagina like a toy? Do we ever leave the Oedipus and Electra Complex stages, where the moment a child first recognizes their own sexual identity, the very next step is to focus libidinal energy on the parent of the opposite sex? Then, all extensions and versions of jealousy and rage focus on the parent of the same sex. Is the guy who hospitalized his wife’s lover not the unrepressed Oedipus Complex, since his desire to possess and control the sexuality opposite his own and destroy the one that is the same as his and therefore the rival to him actually plays out, as if it escaped its subconscious repression? And he, like most of us, dared not think about sharing that vagina, as if it were his little toy that he could not stand the thought of someone else getting pleasure from. He demonstrates how we will throw tantrums that destroy others if they play with or attempt to play with things we claim as our own. We are nothing more than infant twins, each on opposite tits, sucking away and making an enemy of our own brother for indulging as we do. We will beat him to a pulp. Hospitalize or imprison him. Make a repeat offender of him to trap him within the system that supports this behavior because this justifies its existence. Even if it is all over a toy we care nothing about.

The law shapes man into its image, Lacan says, exploiting the poetic function of language to give man’s desires symbolic mediation.

I often think that we are no different from salmon, spending our whole lives trying to get back to the place we came from. We swim up streams of vaginas every chance we get until we die, and sometimes we die by them or because of them. Salmon spawning in the one place it was spawned from. I say vagina, or I say pussy, but really I understand that this is connected to reproduction. This is connected to survival of the species. We humans are a living, breathing organism that strives to grow, spread, seize, and dominate every inch of our immediate surroundings (for us as individuals) until this inch grows into all space (for us as whole organized units).

Everything we do is connected to the womb—that which we crawl out of like Jesus rolling the stone back for resurrection. To die and be born again in the same place, we have to protect the womb. We have to keep it sacred and cleanly, preserve its virgin-like and godly qualities. We have to claim it as our friend, our soul mate, our companion, our wife, the mother of our children. In other words, we build walls of illusion around it like fences around territory. And then we hang dead carcasses on posts to deter other dogs. We have to claim the womb by some way that designates us as the sole owner; meaning, we control it and only we can touch it; only we can play with it; no one else can stick their cocks in it but us; and no one but us gets pleasure from the one we claim as our own. Otherwise … we will destroy it—a Pagan temple where queues of beasts await in provocation. The goddess becomes a fallen statue in her own bed of ash, dripping, oozing, disease infested, and speaking the language of heathens from some dead religion. Decrepit and useless. There will be no rebirth otherwise.

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∞Road to Trial∞

Just before the twelfth hour in the tank, when conversation was dead and sleep was impossible, I lie awake reading all the markings on the walls and floor. Hieroglyphics of the slaves. None betraying the pattern of either keeping control of something or always loving someone. I wonder by what means were they able to leave these marks, but then I see the broken pieces of concrete rock lying loosely about the floor. As an unfamiliar feeling sets in, something beyond boredom and close to devastation, I understand how scratching philosophy into the layers of paint would help ease this approaching panic. A small purpose would be given in this way, a tiny goal, something that lets us and others know we were here, alive, and real; and something that (once again) becomes our own.

I grab a rock and underneath the slogan Never give ‘em the last inch, I start my own contribution, slowly inscribing: and take

The guy who beat his wife, he jumps up as if he’d woke from a nightmare. Sweating and breathing hysterically. He pushes a button on the wall and a woman’s voice comes through a small speaker demanding to know what his emergency is. He can’t speak. He’s hyperventilating. Me being close to panic already, I feel his instability spreading to me. Like some air born pathogen. And from the looks on the faces of the others as they begin to watch, it’s spreading to them as well.

A loud buzzer. The door opens. A guard takes him out of the cell and as he does he says, “Holy shit, this tank’s stuffy’er ‘na horses face eatin’ corncobs.”

The window is completely fogged over, as if we’ve been recycling each other’s breaths for centuries now. The guard stands next to the open door allowing new and cold air to come in. I sit upright, lay a blanket across my lap, wrap another around my shoulders, close my eyes, breath deeply and slowly, and attempt the first meditation of my life. I don’t know what meditating actually is or even what it consists of, nor do I know how to actually do it. But I attempt it anyway, attempting it as I’ve heard of it being done. I eventually calm myself through the process and end up in some place other than where I am.

I journey through Joseph Campbell’s theory of monomyth. Thinking back to Colorado when I, the hero, was called to action as Campbell says is the first step of all heroes ranging from Greek and Roman mythological heroes to Buddha and Jesus. I see the mountains—snowcapped and towering in their implications of a land where it’s okay for Blacks, Queers, and drug users to be human beings. According to Campbell’s theory, after the hero begins his journey, he will first cross a threshold where some foreign creature will take him further into the land of the unknown, or as Campbell says, the entrance to the zone of magnified power … where darkness and danger reside … a passage beyond the veil of the known into the unknown. The threshold guardian takes the hero closer to if not directly into The Belly of the Whale, according to Campbell. Jonah comes to mind, of course. But also, Dionysus and Hestia. Jason and Medea. Odysseus and the Odyssey. Jesus and the Romans. Me and the knuckle draggers. The hero enters the belly of the whale where the metamorphosis begins. Once inside he may be said to have died, only to return to the World Womb anew.

“Where’d you get two blankets from?” the guard asks me, and my eyes snap open and I’m brought back into my cell. I shrug my shoulders, act clueless, and say they were wrapped this way. “Supposed to only have one,” he says and turns around. And with that our cell mate returns, pale but calmed. He apologizes and goes right to his mat and blanket. Everyone rolls their backs to one another; and still seated upright, I close my eyes to the heavy noise of the door shutting.

Campbell says the hero, upon exiting the whale’s belly, is no longer who or what he was when he entered it, and he is then ready for a series of trials and tests from some awaiting female character—either a goddess or a temptress of some sorts—who has the ability to lead the hero astray or to encourage him to continue his journey. After her, the hero meets a male father figure for atonement consisting in the abandonment of the self-generated double monster—the superego and repressed Id. This requires an abandonment of the attachment to ego itself … and one must have faith that the father is merciful. This center of belief will be transferred outside of the self.

After a few moments of being lost in the silence, I wake. I grab my piece of the floor, the small chiseled concrete rock, and I continue my contribution to the slogan. As quiet as I can, next to my two words—and take, I press the rock into the paint and drag it into figures forming the words: back every inch from ‘em you can.

With a small purpose, there is no panic. Time is irrelevant. I take careful pride in my lettering and refurbishing the part of the slogan not created by me. I add a comma after the other rebel’s part of the slogan and a period after my own, uniting them as one and the same and ending them together as such. I brush the remnants clear and blow heavily across the phrase that now reads:

Never give ‘em the last inch, and take back every inch from ‘em you can.

I read it and wonder if others will understand it, or if it will be hidden by all the other slogans like the messiah surrounded by murders and thieves. I wonder if others will add to it. I think in years it will turn into a poem—stanzas by those of us who know what it means to own nothing except that final fucking inch. In decades it will become a new decree … maybe. But really I know it will be lost and forgotten once it’s covered with a new shade of grey paint as thick and dense as the power structure that willed it to be. Winds turn sands and hide footprints this same way.

Centuries pass and then the door buzzes and the guard says, “Westerholt. The judge will see you now.”

I throw one blanket to the carny and one to the guy that beat his wife’s lover. The guy who beat his wife, he says to me, “Hey man. Larry’s the impound guy; I know him. He ain’t gonna give you your car without a license. He’s gonna bleed you for every cent he can.”

“Thanks for the heads-up,” I say. And the door shuts behind me.

A new lady sits where the first did, but they are one and the same, like Romans to a messiah. She hands me my clothes and directs me toward the same room where I showed my dick to the officer earlier. It’s almost 10am. Within ten minutes I dress, and then I’m given my wallet and cell phone back. And with that, my own identity.

“Directly across the street's the courthouse. Judge’s chambers is down the hall, last door on the left. She’s waitin' for ya’.”

When all the barriers and ogres have been overcome … the triumphant hero meets the Queen Goddess of the World. This is the crisis at the nadir, the zenith, or at the uttermost edge of the earth, in the tabernacle of the temple … The meeting with the goddess is the final test of the talent of the hero to win the advantage of her charity … And if she shuns him, the scales fall from her eyes; if she does not, her desire helps him find peace. So says Joseph in his Hero of a Thousand Faces.

Outside the sun is warm and bright and opposite everything from where I just came. I breathe and taste the air like a newborn resurrected from the womb. Squinting and yawning and stretching. Each vehicle that passes is a truck of some kind: dualies, F150s, and old farm pickup trucks. The buildings are from some other era, pre 20th century. No stop lights in either direction for as far I can see. It’s like a dream. I’m lost on some time travel expedition. If a horse and buggy came down the street and stopped to watch two gun slingers pace and draw on one another, I would not be surprised in the least.

Down the hall of the courthouse and in the last door on the left, I wait to see the judge in an office with Jesus décor all over. Crosses hang on the walls. Bibles on the shelves. Magnets on the filing cabinets: several with proverbs and one with a picture of Jesus holding a lamb. A picture on the wall shows a man and a woman holding hands and walking on the beach toward a sunset that colors the entire scene shades of orange. At the bottom of the poster it reads, Our love is designed by Jesus. And though it’s a silhouette of a male and a female figure holding hands, it’s obvious they are a white couple. A white, heterosexual, non-drug using couple, designed by Jesus himself. I am in God’s country, at least this version of god; and I am about to have one his own protégés pass the same judgment on to me as they would have he himself pass it. Since he hates Blacks, Queers, and junkies I think it fortunate, at the very least, that I am white, heterosexual, only on the proper occasion do I use drugs, and it helps that I really am originally from this god fearing jungle.

She yells from the courtroom next door that she’s ready for me and the secretary gives me a nod. “She’ll see you now,” she says as if I was too stupid or not worthy of hearing the judge’s yelling myself.

The courtroom is empty of people but filled with antique wooden chairs with red velvet cushions aligned in scattered rows. Her desk is at the front of the room. This is not the typical courtroom you see on TV depicting the 21st century. This looks like an elementary school from a time when plainsong and national athems filled the rooms. It’s still haunted by such chimes.

An old white lady with short and tightly curled grey hair peers over the rims of glasses at me as I approach. I ask her very politely if I may take a seat at one of the two chairs across from her desk. The game has already begun; I know the one inch I want from her. I no longer use the dialect I did in the tank where pussy was the topic. I now speak with a language even elevated above that I did with the lady who gave me my slave tags. I follow our introductions with lots of yes ma’ams and no ma’ams. And when she gets a pencil out to start figuring the total fines, I quickly mention that I am an English instructor at the university back home and so math certainly isn’t my strong point. Simultaneously I have informed her of a respectable career as well as humility exposed through a personal weakness. We laugh a bit at my expense: the joy of all I’ve been through and the circumstances that caused them. I admit fault repeatedly, bring up the importance of the wedding, and I most certainly mention being originally from Texas myself. And not two seconds after she tells me the total for my fines, I ask for my inch.

“Your Honor,” I say, “I wonder if you might consider giving me anything for the time I served in your jail. I spent nearly 13 hours in the tank and just wondered if you can give me anything for that. However little it may be. I would be more than grateful.”

“Well, we don’t give anything for time less than 24 hours served,” she says. And just as I nod in understanding and tuck my chin to my chest, she says, “Usually… that is,” and she smiles. “How ‘bout this?” She scribbles through the original total she’d written down, which was just over 400 dollars, and she draws a new figure that is just under 300 dollars.

It’s not much, but it’s something.

I shake her hand and thank her. And I notice, Joseph Cambpbell was right, scales do not fall from her eyes.

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∞Atonement∞

One step closer to getting out of God’s country, I call Larry’s Tow. After I tell him who I am and ask for directions to his impound lot, he says, “Hell, boy, I’m out-n-about. Only two clicks from ya’ now. I’ll pick ya’ up.”

The final step for Campbell’s hero is confrontation with a male figure who holds the key to either life or death. In my case, the final figure holds the keys to my rental car. And I’ve already been warned by my cellmate that once this Larry guy discovers I have no driver’s license, he’ll care more about money than he does about me as a human. He will see me as some sort of cash cow ready for the prostate milkin’, or something like that; I’m sure. But, as Campbell claims, the hero must have faith that this male figure is merciful. Paralleled with Freud’s claim of the Ego’s projections becoming manifestations, the hero must transfer his inner mercy outward and onto this male figure who then reflects it back as an act. In other words, I have from the time Larry picks me up on the corner near the courthouse until wherever his impound lot is to pull out all the same inch winning tricks I have so far.

As I stand on the corner in the centermost part of this Wild West remake, an oversized truck with a diesel engine’s purr pulls up next to me and the door swings open. “Hop own in,” says the old man. In a Western flick, his name would be Stretch. His boots rest at the bottom of his long thin legs that are wrapped tightly with denim. His belt buckle protects his entire midsection like a shield. Button collar shirt with stripes and his lip’s fat and full of chew. “Colla’rahda, huh? Bet it smells like pig’s shit and cow guts to ya’ll when ya’ll come down here to the panhandle.” And he’s right. The stench is everywhere. Breezes are unwelcome; all they do is spread the horror. “Ta’ us, down ‘ere, That’s the smella’ money, son.”

I don’t hold back. I fire at him with a southern draw, because I know my time is limited. I have to become one of his own and he’s already attempting to separate me from being such.

“Born an’ raised in the panhandle, sir. I know the smell quite well.” With that, I talk about Amarillo being my hometown and I thank him repeatedly for picking me up. Then I continue on with all the same previous strategies as those I used to get every single inch I could from everyone who had some control over my life within this last 20 hour period:

Get those in control to identify with you. Match your language and intellectual level with that of their own; you cannot have those in control thinking you are smarter than they are and you cannot give those in control any reason to believe that you are dumber than they are (one insults their intelligence; the other confirms their stereotype). However, you must behave in a way that lets them know you are aware that they are in control; this will keep them from feeling as if they need to remind you who is in control. This is indeed the classical dialectic of Master and Slave. The slave must know and accept his position, so that he can maneuver through all the barriers that create this position before he can free himself from those very barriers. In other words, a slave must know he is a slave and all the ways in which he is a slave before he can free himself from slavery.

The recipe for making a slave:

• Remove one individual from his or her own people: family, friends, and any other social group.

• Further separate the individual from all people who speak the same language as him or her.

• Just prior to basting, brush away any previously known identities (this includes everything from the individual’s name to associations they identify themselves with).

• Add new identity in 2 parts: Part One. Give the individual a new title, not a name in the sense of a Proper Noun (this should be something derogatory, something that lets the individual know every time he is summonsed by this title that he/she is at a lower status than his master and/or all those who refer to him by this title). Part Two. The slave should no longer be considered an individual. Their new identity should have him/her assigned to all groups similar in stature as their new position, thereby also losing any individualism. Nigger, Queer, Dope-user, White-Trash, Criminal — these are good examples for both Parts One and Two.

• Prior to adding the slave to one holding tank with no windows to the outside, an act of humiliation should precede (public nudity often works well). The walls of the tank should be painted a dull color so the slave gets no stimulation at all. The tank should also be no more than 12’X10’ in diameter. If a tank of this sort is unavailable, a cage or a shack directly behind the master’s mansion should suffice, so long as the cage or shack is in similar condition as all other animals’ cages on the same property.

• Beat, whip, or whisk the slave at your leisure and to a pulp that is to your liking.

• Serve to a God fearing Christian; and Enjoy!

And since this is the process to make a slave, the recipe need only be reversed for the slave seeking freedom:

• Do not Enjoy! Get/be/remain angry (History shows that angry people are those who shift the course of mankind)

• Do not serve the Christian god. His book and ideals promote slavery (amongst other things like homophobia, patriarchy, servitude to a master [even when not a slave as the current topic], narcissism, and murder of those that are different in any way).

• Consider all beatings, whippings, and whiskings as Nietzsche claims of all things that do not destroy us. Even if they truly do not make us stronger, believe it is so while it’s happening so that you may get through the process and eventually overcome it.

• Remove yourself from the confinements of the master’s tanks, cages, shacks, and even the shadows of his mansion. Position yourself in a way that makes it impossible to be caged (i.e. do not drive without a driver’s license).

• Get your identity back, and associate yourself with those you identify most with, and those whom encourage your self-expression.

• Master the use of language (knowing when and how to use its variations among whom)

The whole reality and its effects lies in the gift of speech, Jacques Lacan says, for it is through this gift that all reality has come to man and through its ongoing action that he sustains reality.

Never has this quote rang truer than here in this desolate Texas dirt-hole town, where language creates both a law and a belief system that imprisons someone for something so minor in its true essence because of how it is greater in its implications. That is to suggest: the act of driving without a driver’s license is not the same threat as the driver and what he represents when coming from a place where value systems are different. But language is the bridge of the dialectical process; and though language enforces, language is used to challenge the enforcer's words. Those who use language like whips and chains to control others as they will themselves into positions of power through it should not be surprised when someone uses language and lashes back in a way that calculates repositioning that same power, even if it is only by an inch in favor of the one lashing back through tongue and pen.

At the impound lot, Larry and I are like old buddies talking about high school football in Texas being better than college football in other states, and Texas women have asses like no other women on the planet (I don’t give a fuck about football. Give me Nietzsche, Freud, Lacan, and King any day. Talk about Campbell and his “follow your bliss” philosophy. Rhetoric and its power to seduce and manipulate. And I damn sure don’t care about Texas ass no more than I do pregnant pussy. But Larry doesn’t need to know any of this). I never lose faith in his mercy; and I’m projecting my inner belief outward and on to him. Tough I dare not do it without the assistance of words, for I believe in the power of language irrevocably.

In this tractor garage just on the outskirts of this shithole Texas town, the lot is filled with locus shelled cars and tow trucks and trailers. And in here, Larry sits at a desk and adds up my cost. Just as he tells me the total, another 300 and something dollars, he orders some other gentleman who's legs dangled out from underneath a truck to go fetch the red hatchback. Instead, just as I hand Larry my debit card, his partner (or employee or whatever he is) rolls out from under the truck and walks right up to us and says, “He ain’t got no DL, Larry. Trooper Walkins told me last night about ‘im not havin’ it. We cain’t let ‘im outta here in that car.” His greasy cap and brown coveralls become the focus of my hatred.

I turn directly to Larry and ignore ol’ Skeeter, or whatever the fuck his name is, and say, “Larry, I just wanna get home. I’m 50 miles from the Texas border and all I want is to get back to Colorado. I ain’t got no one who can even come get me.”

Larry puts his face in his hands just as ol’ Skeeter, or whatever the fuck his punk ass name is, says, “Cain’t do it. Larry, you ain’t even considerin’ doin’ this; are ya’?”

Skeeter is about to get a drop kick to the fuckin’ throat and a karatee chop to the bridge of his nose right when Larry says, “I don’t know why, but I am considerin’ it. 31 years in this business, and I never have allowed it once." He pauses. Shakes his head. Looks up at me and says, "Why this time, I do not know.”

I’ll tell you why. I’ll tell everyone why … because while I was here in God’s country … I fought, through the use of language—the only tool I’d been afforded and the only tool they did not strip me of—for every last mother fuckin’ inch that was rightfully mine to begin with anyway.

∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫∫

∞Epilogue∞

The drive home was done at neither one mile over nor one mile under the speed limit. Until I crossed the state line into New Mexico, I felt like a slave on the underground railway. My palms were sweaty; I had cottonmouth; and I kept looking in the rearview mirror for police or troopers. All I wanted was to be back in the north. The moment I was in New Mexico, everything felt differently; and as I approached Colorado, the mountain range in the distance made me feel at ease. I felt proud to call Colorado "home." I imagined the mountains representing this strange place where black people are accepted, gay people are allowed to love one another, recreational drug use is permitted. I imagined just over the approaching mountain range, Colorado as this land like OZ where witches and flying monkeys all walk upright and don't drag their knuckles on the ground, unicorns and fairies prance and frolic beneath rainbows, more gods than the Hebrew wolf hanging from a cross are celebrated, music plays in streets of gold, dogs chase only their own tails, and police and state troopers spend their time focusing on real crimes.

I missed my best friend’s wedding. The only request he made to his bride to be in regards to the wedding, he said that she could have everything she wanted for the wedding, the only thing he had to have … was me there. It’s been nine days since Carlton and Erica’s wedding and I have not stopped typing this essay since I got home. Every spare moment I found has been spent in front of my laptop laying down this story. I believe dogmatically that language creates and sustains our reality, controls us and gives us the ability to control. And so this story about language, told by way of language itself, is my attempt to capture a moment in time, to control the narrative before it slips away. This is my gift to Carlton and Erica. But more so, it is my apology to them both. Two of the most powerful words in the world, said in any language at any time, are I’m sorry. And though it will never make up for the ceremony I missed, I have just said how sorry I am in just over 9.6 thousand words.

Carlton and Erica, I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry that I missed the ceremony of your union.

I love you both dearly—forever and always…

One Love.

~Harley

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paperficwriter · 6 years ago

Text

My Own Worst Enemy

Here is a KiriBaku request I wrote for @batneko based off this fantastic prompt! Thank you for your commission, Bats!!

If you are interested in commissioning me for Boku no Hero Academia or other series, please check out my commission guidelines here!!

Cut is for length, not for content.

Of all the things that Kirishima had done in his life, including getting accepted to UA, the top hero school in the country, it all seemed like absolutely nothing compared to being able to kiss Bakugou Katsuki.

And not just kissing him. Kissing him in his room. On his bed. No one else had ever even been allowed to go into his space in the dorm, and although there wasn’t much to speak of so far as belongings went (Bakugou was pretty minimalist), he did have an actual bed. He could still remember the first time Bakugou invited him in, his heart pounding, and he lit up into a smile.

“Dude! No futon?! Seriously?”

Bakugou had rolled his eyes. “When my quirk manifested, I had to have more space, and if I didn’t sleep on a mattress I got pissed and burned holes in the floor.”

Kirishima stifled back a laugh as he jumped onto it. It was the most comfortable surface he had ever been on: a little firm but also soft. Pillowy. “That sounds like you, for sure. Does Momo know you have a bed too?” he teased.

“No. And it’s going to stay that way, Shitty Hair.”

He wasn’t sure what else they did that day. Probably studied, maybe watched some videos on his phone, but he knew that at some point he had put his head on Bakugou’s shoulder and dozed off. Class had been busy that week, he recalled, and he was stressed, and with his back pressed against the wall Bakugou had been so close and warm and…

If someone had asked a year or two before if he ever thought he would wake up with a blanket around himself and Bakugou stroking his hair...well, he would have just zoned out and fantasized about it for a minute, then shaken his head and said it would never happen. And yet. It happened, Bakugou’s fingers carding through his hair, quite obviously breaking up the product so it was soft and mostly down when he sat up.

“What?” Bakugou had asked, a pink glow brightening the bridge of his nose.

Kirishima didn’t know how to answer. In fact, he hadn’t known how to for weeks until finally he was in that room again, and he blurted that he had wanted so much for Bakugou to kiss him that night, and Bakugou stared at him and then…

Kissed him.

Had it seriously been that simple?

And sure, maybe he would like to say now that it was a romantic movie kiss with all the bells and whistles. He would have liked to look back and say that Bakugou Katsuki, who would never let anyone come even in arm’s length of him physically or emotionally, swept him off his feet, but...it was awkward, leaving him wondering if it was his first kiss too. One with too much teeth, a tongue thrust into his mouth like a creature seeking a hiding place, and at some point he thought he cut himself on one of Kirishima’s canines. A false alarm, but an alarm nevertheless.

“I guess we’ll just have to practice,” Kirishima joked, his smile turning melty when Bakugou fingered one of the spikes of his hair.

“Whatever.” Bakugou had been dismissive that day, but the following afternoon, he dragged Kirishima into his room. Then again. And again.

And he really had improved. He wanted to ask, to tease, if he had been practicing on some other pair of lips, but he was too busy falling into that warm afternoon of sunshine and ice cream and a cool breeze and all his favorite things wrapped up into one that was Bakugou kissing him. His memory about everything else sucked (at least that's what Aizawa would say) but this…this he gripped tight in his brain.

Bakugou's arm around his waist, holding him against his front where he laid on his side.

Warm, soft lips opening and then closing over his, brushing one moment, pressing hard the next.

The wet noises, the little breaths, even the brush of his fingers against his cheekbone.

If Kirishima opened his eyes - and he didn't often because Bakugou somehow always caught him and snarled at him to “stop fucking staring, weirdo” - he could see how soft Bakugou's face would become. The eyebrows normally knit in an angry 'v’ would go loose. Maybe even turn up a little. The angry line of his mouth now came in to touch his, open or puckered slightly or…

Bakugou's phone vibrated.

“Really?” Kirishima chuckled, balling his fist into Bakugou's black shirt like he was going to fight him. “You left your phone on?”

“Like you turned yours off.” There was the glare again.

“It's at least on silent!” The vibrations started again, obnoxiously loud on Bakugou's dresser. “Want to get that?”

“Fuck ‘em,” he grunted, and he gave Kirishima's bottom lip a wet lick, kissing him again as soon as his jaw dropped. “I'm busy.”

Busy. That was about the extent of it. Whenever Kirishima was in his room and either one of their friends or a classmate or even Midoriya came by, he was always “busy.” Or, if they called him while they were out together eating lunch or dinner in the city, he was “fucking busy.” And if they wandered back into the dorms together and anyone even breathed in Bakugou’s direction to ask where he had been, he’d scream that it wasn’t any of their fucking business.

Kirishima waited for that to bother him. He waited for some sort of pain to settle in, to feel maybe a little bitter or angry or upset, that Bakugou wasn’t telling everyone about him. But then...he liked this. He liked having this something with Bakugou. And he loved everything that went with it, too.

When the phone finally got to the edge of the table, Kirishima pushed Bakugou away to reach out for it. “Oh my god, dude, I can’t handle it anymore. If you’re not going to answer it, at least let me.”

Bakugou groaned as he rolled over on his back, and Kirishima had zero doubts that he would have just let it dance to the edge and clatter to the floor. “Do what you want.”

Kirishima pressed the button on the side of the phone, and there were several texts from Kaminari. Many of them were just Bakugou’s name, but the most recent one said, “Baku, you have to come see this guy. He’s huge. He has some apex predator quirk?? WHAT ARE YOU DOING??”

“Kaminari is talking about some...guy?”

Bakugou took the phone and glared at the screen for a second before he swung his legs up to stand next to the bed. Okay, maybe now Kirishima regretted messing with the phone. He wanted to go back to kissing, and instead Bakugou opened his door. A new challenger had approached and Bakugou clearly had to see if his territory was being threatened. “Come on. Let’s check it out.”

Once they were both out in the hall, they could see and hear clearly that there was a commotion down by the common room. Both boys and girls from not only 1-A but other classrooms were gathered around a single figure, a figure so tall that they loomed over the heads of the students. It was hard not to notice the dramatic bearing of the person who frankly looked more like a teacher than one of their own, and it was only the uniform that gave it away. He (Kirishima didn’t want to make assumptions about gender, but it was difficult not to, given his physical appearance) was broad-chested, and he had the traits of a lion. Kirishima had seen other people with animal characteristics - Tokoyami, of course, and Hound Dog came immediately to mind - but this guy was…a lion. With a gorgeous full mane around his head, gold eyes, and rich sandy fur that seemed to cover his entire body. When he smiled, he showed off perfect, sharp teeth.

“Wow,” Kirishima breathed.

“What?!” Bakugou snapped.

“Nothing! He’s just…” He whistled low, avoiding Bakugou’s narrowed gaze. “You have to admit he looks really cool.”

“Appearances aren’t everything,” Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as they wandered up to where the crowd was a steady buzz of sound. When he heard Kaminari’s voice, Bakugou glanced up again when he joined them. “So what’s with this guy, Drooly?”

Kaminari’s face appeared as excited as Kirishima felt. “So his name is Yuri, right? I mean, that’s not really his name, but that’s what he chose for his exchange name. And he’s a transfer student from a sister city in another country and he’s going to live with us for a few weeks and he’s super nice and cool and --”

“Fuck, just suck his cock already,” Bakugou interrupted, rolling his eyes. “What about his quirk?”

“Oh yeah!” Kaminari, as always, was completely unfazed by Bakugou’s attitude. “He was talking about how he has this quirk that kind of jives with his lion genes from his dad’s size of the family, and he can, like, grow his fangs and his claws and run really fast and --”

“I guess it doesn’t suck,” Bakugou concluded. “Where does he rank in his school?”

Kirishima elbowed him lightly. “Somehow I doubt he’s bothered talking about where he places in grades, unlike some people...”

“Actually, he’s third! Just like you, Bakugou!”

He couldn’t be entirely sure, but did Kirishima see Bakugou just tense slightly? Sure, he could get pissy about the fact that Iida and Yaoyorozu were both ahead of him, but Yuri wasn’t even enrolled at UA. Why did he care?

“Excuse me.”

Bakugou, Kirishima and Kaminari turned at the sound of the voice. Yuri was standing right in front of them, two duffel bags casually over one shoulder, and the crowd had parted but remained hovering around him, watching the interaction with close interest. He smiled, and Kirishima had never thought that he would care that much about what someone’s voice sounded like, but Yuri could read the dictionary and he’d be happy. It was smooth and rich, the deepest voice he had ever heard, and despite his accent, he spoke their language flawlessly. “Are you Kirishima Eijirou?”

“Me? Yeah. Yeah! Hi!” Why was he feeling nervous? He shook his hand rather vigorously. “Nice to meet you!”

“I read about the fight you were involved in when you were serving as intern with Fatgum and cooperating with the professional heroes in this region. It was very impressive.” Man, oh man, that voice. So manly. “When I saw that I would be staying in your school’s dorms for a week, I hoped I would be able to meet you.”

Kirishima blushed, and it was only because he had turned his head down sheepishly that he caught the expression on Bakugou’s face, one that was close to scathing. “You’ve probably heard of Bakugou Katsuki, too!” Kirishima blurted. “He won the sports festival during our first year.”

“Ah, yes.” It was hard to read the tone Yuri’s words took on, then, but he spoke slowly. Deliberately. “You were quite something, Bakugou. Although it did not seem you were satisfied with the result, despite your success. I could not help wondering if your fellow classmates appreciated your careless regard for your win.”

Kirishima and Kaminari exchanged a glance.

“Maybe they should have been fucking better, and they could have gotten that piece of shit medal, then.” Bakugou squared his shoulders. Kirishima knew he was waiting for Yuri to throw some other slight his way so he could knock it out. That’s usually how these interactions went, anyway.

But it never happened.

It was like a light switch being flipped. Rather than following up, Yuri returned his full attention to Kirishima, blinking slowly as his dark lips spread into a grin. “I will be staying here in the city for some time. Perhaps we could go have some dinner together?”

It took Kirishima at least ten seconds to realize that he was being asked out. And maybe it wasn’t a date but...it wasn’t not a date either.

“Maybe!” he finally chirped. “That could be fun, right, Bakugou?”

He wished he was more surprised when he turned to see Bakugou stalking away. Yet somehow, that was just the way he was: Bakugou Katsuki, volatile and yet somehow completely predictable, more ticking time bomb than hand grenade.

---

“I don’t like that fucking guy,” Bakugou said as he stabbed his spicy curry with his chopsticks. He hated that he kept glancing up at Kirishima talking to that giant housecat. They would grin and talk, and now and then he would catch him flexing for Kirishima, or showing his sharp claws, or…

“I think he’s nice!” Ashido gushed, sipping her tea. Kaminari and Sero nodded in agreement, and he scowled at all of them. What did they know?

“You would.”

“I think he’s just pissy because Kirishima is spending more time with Yuri than he is with him,” Sero pointed out, like Bakugou wasn't sitting right there in front of them.

“Fuck off. I don’t give a shit who he hangs out with.”

“Oh yeah? Is that why you keep shoving Kirishima into the classroom when Yuri is calling for him down the hall?” Kaminari volunteered.

“Or why when Aizawa was going to partner Yuri and Kirishima for sparring you practically screamed that you volunteered to fight Kirishima instead?”

“Or when you pretty much yelled in his face that Kirishima had a study date with you and that’s why he couldn't go out for karaoke?”

“All right, you fucking asshats, I didn’t ask for your opinion!” When Bakugou got up, his chair clattered to the floor behind him. He didn’t have to listen to this shit. Flipping them off, he stormed over to the garbage can to throw away the remnants of lunch. Hell, he’d barely touched anything. He had thought when he bought Kirishima lunch that he would finally get a chance to just sit down with him and talk for five seconds, but the minute Yuri came over, that had been it. Maybe it wasn’t that big of a surprise that he lost his appetite.

As he shoved his hands into his pockets and headed out to the lawn, kicking the door open in front of him, he could still hear those three fuckwits laughing in his ears. They hadn’t been wrong, and that was the worst of all. It made his insides feel as explosive as his hands when he thought about each of those occurrences. And not once had Yuri been a shit to him about it, not like Bakugou would have been if the tables were turned. Despite his big, bad appearance, Yuri completely tuned him out, his entire focus on Kirishima.

Kirishima, who definitely didn’t seem opposed to the attention.

And it wasn’t like Bakugou had gone silently into this whole situation. He had mentioned it to Kirishima at least several times. “I don’t get why you even like hanging around him,” he said, lying on the bed. He had wanted to go back to where they were that first day, but Kirishima kept sitting up, legs crossed, looking at his phone and reading over snippets of translated articles about Yuri and his school. “Don't get used to him. He’s going to be gone before you know it.”

“He’s really an awesome guy,” Kirishima said, not looking up. “He’s in all these clubs, and he interned for a big-name hero in his country. He has a lot of great stories! Give him a chance!”

“I have to focus on school. And you should be, too, jackass.”

Kirishima had shoved him over, grinning down at him. “I’ll catch up on studying! I promise.”

The whole scenario had left a bitter taste in Bakugou’s mouth.

“Bakugou?” Even at the sound of his name, Bakugou didn’t turn as he kicked his way through the manicured grass. He didn’t have to. He recognized Yuri’s voice immediately, the cadence with which he said his name, the consonants popping on his tongue. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Better keep up, then. I’ve got shit to do.” Maybe he would get tired of following him. Why was he here? He didn’t want to talk to this guy…

Even despite his efforts, he could hear the grass crunch as Yuri jogged up to his side. The wind rolled across the quad, ruffling his mane in a way that made Bakugou hate him even more, because it was perfect, like a goddamned commercial with his stupid face on it. “There is something I am not clear about, and I have been unable to confirm this with you or with Kirishima.”

“Yeah, what?”

“Is Kirishima your boyfriend, or is he not?”

That got his attention. Bakugou stopped walking. “What the...why the fuck are you asking me that?”

Yuri put his hands on his wide hips, and Bakugou hated how much taller he was, forcing him to crane his neck up. “I can tell that there is something between the two of you, but...you are never...particularly kind to him. There is a physical chemistry, but I cannot tell if you have a relationship or if you do not.”

Bakugou wasn’t sure what he was going to say but even the start of the word crackled and dissipated in his throat. He tried again. Nothing. “That’s none of your fucking business!” he finally expelled. That had worked fine before with everyone else.

And yet…

“It is my business, Bakugou,” Yuri said patiently. “Because I wish to court Kirishima, but I cannot do this if I do not understand the nature of your bond.” Now Bakugou was fuming. Courting? Bond?! “Are you intimate with Kirishima? Are you engaging in --”

“Shut up! Don’t ask me that shit!” For lack of further response, though, since Bakugou did not want him to continue that line of questioning, he finally allowed himself to admit, “But yeah, we make out and stuff.”

A slow nod. “But you are not boyfriends?”

“What the fuck does that even mean?!”

“So...you are not.”

“I...We…” Bakugou felt like he was choking. Suddenly he was reminded of the sludge monster, of drowning in the black ectoplasmic goo when he was trapped by the League of Villains. As much as he wanted to reply, he couldn’t. Couldn’t focus, couldn’t find the words, couldn’t get the air behind what might have been the words.

Yuri’s expression changed. Suddenly he seemed less annoyed, and more...sympathetic, and that only made Bakugou’s rage build. “Do you have feelings for him?”

Bakugou wanted to run away. “Do I look like the kind of asshole who would make out with someone I don’t care about?”

“Have you spoken with him about how you feel?”

“He knows!” Small explosions set off in Bakugou’s palms without him even intending for them to, and his voice had become so shrill it echoed in the field. Kirishima knew. He had to know. Right?

Yuri didn’t look away, not even flinching from Bakugou’s quirk triggering. His words were flat. Calm. “Are you certain? Perhaps your ‘making out’ is enough for him. Maybe you are not together because he is waiting for someone who is more deserving of him. Someone who will treat him like a whole person, who will do ‘stuff’ with him but also be kind. Who will love him.” He shrugged. “Maybe he does not want you.”

Maybe he does not want you.

Bakugou didn’t remember what happened between the field and his dorm room. He might have bitten off another curse at Yuri, or he might have just run away. It didn’t matter. His stomach was in knots, and it hurt worse than when All Might had gut-punched him during their exams in the first year. His brain was trying to play back recordings of every conversation between him and Kirishima, and each one brought back...nothing. He had always been left assuming that this - whatever this was - worked for Kirishima, that he was happy with it.

But now…

Doubt.

Doubt that left him lying on his bed for several hours until there was a knock at the door. One that he recognized. God, was that how well he knew him? That he could tell when it was him knocking on his dorm room door? Bakugou stayed where he was, until he knocked again.

“Bakugou? You around?” he finally called.

“Go away.”

“That sounds like a ‘yes’!” Fuck, he could hear his smile, and it hurt to picture it, to recall the taste of it. “Can I come in?”

“Which part of ‘go away’ don’t you understand, Shitty Hair?”

Of course the door opened, and Kirishima walked in like he owned the place. He had changed out of his uniform into his t-shirt and shorts, plopping down on Bakugou’s bed across from him. “You know that if you don’t tell me just ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ I’m going to interpret what you’re saying as Bakugou-speak for ‘I want you around but I’m too much of a baby to tell you.’”

“Oh, fuck off.” Bakugou grabbed his pillow and shoved it against his stomach. For a moment, everything in the room was silent. Why was Kirishima just staring at him? “So. Did Simba ask you out or what?”

“Yeah.”

Here it comes. Bakugou braced himself for it. “What did you say?”

Kirishima smirked. “What do you think?”

Maybe it was the way Kirishima responded, but it sparked at the circle of gasoline that had been soaking around Bakugou’s heart, and he all but yelled, “I think you should just fucking say ‘yes’ and get it over with. Have lots of fucking manly furry babies for all I care. You two deserve each other.”

And then something happened that Bakugou wouldn’t have expected in a million years.

Kirishima laughed at him. He laughed and grabbed him up, pillow and all, and pulled him into a hug that he refused to loosen. “Is that what all this has been about?! Is this why you’ve been acting so cagey the last few weeks?”

Bakugou figured he would push him away, shove him off the bed, or even roll away, but he didn’t. He might have slapped a little at Kirishima’s chest, but it only made him more intent to have his way and cuddle Bakugou into submission. “I said I don’t care,” he mumbled bitterly.

“Yeah, you very clearly don’t care.” Kirishima’s fingers stroked his wild blonde spikes, and even in spite of himself Bakugou could feel his body relax, his muscles loosen. “I said ‘no,’ you know. I wouldn’t do that to you. Obviously.”

“Don't fucking ‘obviously’ at me.”

Another laugh. “You're the one I want.”

“Even though we’re not…” Bakugou buried his face in Kirishima’s shoulder. “I’m so shitty with this kind of thing. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you weren’t serious.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious.” He reached his arm around his side so he could tug his shirt, pull him in closer. Even without his quirk, Kirishima was a rock. “Especially with you.”

“You don’t think I know?” Kirishima paused to kiss his temple, and Bakugou made a little sound at the affectionate gesture. “After all those study dates and massages and buying me meals and cheering me up? Those mean a lot more to me than any ‘relationship talk,’ dude.”

Bakugou was still, breathing in the clean scent of Kirishima, of his freshly laundered clothes, the shower he had taken. They had gone so long without talking about any of this, and he wasn’t about to start, but… “You’re really okay with this?”

“By ‘this,’ do you mean...you?” Kirishima sounded so tender, soft and sincere, and when he rolled Bakugou over to kiss him, Bakugou let him take the reigns.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

#my paperfics #boku no hero academia #kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #sweet boys who are so dumb but so in love with each other

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teratoscope · 6 years ago

Text

Enluss

The little shaggy guys started turning up at the camp perimeter the night after you cleared out the den of cunningbears that were sabotaging the mass drivers two klicks out west. You’re pretty sure they’re some kind of mutant. You get lots of those out in the green zones, and the brass gives you hell if you break protocol for indigenes, so for the time being you’ve let them be beyond reading them the packaged non-aggression pact speech. Not like they knew what you were saying. They kept so quiet that most of the crew was pretty sure they don’t talk. They’d shown up right at the edge of camp for two weeks straight, just watching with those big dark eyes that shine when you fix ‘em in the light. Then Tae got shitfaced last night and tried to punt one. They dogpiled him, jabbed him in the neck with this fuckoff huge needle, and vanished into the buffalo grass. Tae’s drinking buddies ran him to the field hospital and strapped him down so he wouldn’t break his own spine from the convulsions. Tae died sometime later that night. That’s what you’re hoping, anyway. That’s the story you’re telling everyone else. You were the one that got tapped for observation duty, and the one who sterilized the area when you realized he was starting to sporulate.

HD 1 MV 120’ AC 12 AT by weapon Special assimilator, virotech

assimilator—Enluss don’t have immune systems so much as they have re-education camps for foreign contaminants. They always have advantage to resist poison, infection, and toxic environments, and once they’ve made a successful save they never have to roll to resist it again.

virotech—nearly all Enluss technology is the product of powerful retroviral agents that directly alter the user’s phenotype. An Enluss can typically maintain one virotech infection per HD listed for an individual specimen. Virotech is contagious; any living thing that makes fluid-to-membrane contact with an Enluss has a 1 in 6 chance of contracting a system. Virotech is keyed to the user’s precise biochemical register, and the transition to a new host is messy at best. The infected must make a Constitution check; if they fail, they lose 1d3 points of Constitution permanently and the infection manifests immediately. If they succeed, their Constitution score is set to the raw result of the check and recovers by 1 point/day; the infection manifests when the infected’s Constitution score returns to normal.

1d10 Virotech Infections

1. Bombardier Pox. Horny conical growths on chest, shoulders, and back spray caustic fluid on command. 1d6 acid damage in a 15’ radius centered on the user, Dex check for half.

2. Gecko Palms. Subject gains a climb speed equal to ½ their MV.

3. Froglung. Subject becomes amphibious, but only swims as well as they ordinarily would.

4. Komodo Mouth. On a successful bite attack, subject’s victim makes a Constitution save after every full rest. On failure their max hp drops by 1d3. Effect ends after victim receives advanced medical care, dies, or manages three successful saves in a row.

5. Kevlar Rash. Skin bunches and hardens when struck with a strong blow. Subject gains 1 damage reduction vs. kinetic attacks the first time they’re damaged each round; this effect dissipates after a full round without being hit. At DR 3, halve MV; at DR 6, reduce it to 1/3. Effect caps at 6.

6. Accelerator Fever. Subject can move at double their base MV and act at the top of initiative on command at the cost of 1d3 hp/round.

7. Vorpal Osteogenesis. Subject’s hand (determine which one randomly) becomes powerfully muscular to compensate for liquified bones, which erupt from fingertips reconfigured into inch-long talons. Subject gains a claw attack for 1d6+1 damage; this attack scores a critical on a 17-20. Hand is miserably clumsy for all other purposes.

8. Transponder Blisters. Subject develops a cluster of antennae and subcutaneous resonators running from the base of the neck to the jawbone that allow them to tap and gauge distance and direction on radio signals within a 20 mile radius. Actively seeking a band to scan requires a Wisdom check and an exploration turn.

9. Alzabo Syndrome. Subject’s tongue becomes extendable and develops a thorny, hollow tip designed to bore into spinal columns. Subject can take an exploration turn to hull and drain a recently-killed or restrained life form; for the next eight hours they gain access to all of the eaten party’s memories ranging from the moment of death to the last time they slept.

10. Alcubierre Organ. Subject develops a faintly glowing growth just above the sacrum that makes the bearer passably spaceworthy and allows subtle massaging of space-time. Subject gains an EVA speed of 90’ and can teleport to any location they have a clear mental image of but will need to messily devour a full-grown person’s worth of calories within an exploration turn of arrival. Failure to satiate the hungers of warp-debt inflicts their own hit dice in damage each round.

1d6 Enluss Weapons

1. Pherogun. 600’ range. Cast ceramic single-shot air rifle. Takes a full round to load. Deals no damage, but specially brewed ammunition vaporizes on hit and binds to the skin, making the target smell overwhelmingly confrontational/appetizing to most organisms. Wilderness encounters happen twice as often, and reaction rolls with wild creatures are made twice, taking the least favorable outcome. Counterscent is usually carried on the wielder’s person, rarely more than a single dose. Effect wears off after a month or if the victim is set on fire for at least 6 points of damage (cumulative).

2. Babel Spore. 60’ cone. Sickly-sweet grayish haze deployed via back-mounted sprayer. Targets within cone make a Wisdom check each round; on failure they can neither use nor comprehend spoken or written language. Pantomime and evocative groans still work. Victims get followup checks to purge the spores after every full rest.

3. Tracker Spear. As normal spear, but on a hit that beats AC by 4 or more, a section of the head breaks off in the resulting wound and puts down taproots. The head requires 2d6 days of dedicated care from a competent surgeon to remove, and so long as it has blood to feed on it will broadcast its pre-assigned radio signature. A target marked this way will never surprise a party of Enluss and attempts to cover tracks or shake off pursuers always fail if the pursuers are Enluss or know their encryptions.

4. Slingbears. Like underfed, shaved, eyeless infant koalas. 30’ range, 1d6 damage on impact. Take a Strength check at disadvantage to dislodge, deal 1d6+1 at the end of each subsequent round attached as they savage with tooth and claw. You can try to kill them while attached; they have 1 HD, AC equal to their victim’s +2 if you’re trying not to hit your friend or yourself, and if you hit but don’t kill they deal maximum damage this round. Utterly helpless once dislodged; they have no notion of how to function without something to latch onto and maul.

5. Starter Grenade. Fragile clay jar with an airtight seal, containing a voracious, quick-growing yeast culture. 30’ initial area of effect, can be hucked up to 60’ by hand or 120’ with a sling. Anything in the area of effect must make a Strength check to pull free of the sticky morass; otherwise they are immobilized until somebody else extracts them and their microbiome is savaged by the yeast’s rapacious hunger, granting an immediate extra Constitution check against any diseases they may be suffering from and disadvantage on all checks vs. disease in the future, barring three days of probiotic treatment. On the second round, the yeast mass grows another 60’, plus 30’ for each target it already trapped. On the third round, the mass solidifies into a huge, misshapen lump of hardtack. Starter Grenades are ineffective in sterile environments.

6. Hornet Claw. Set of four pheromone-bound, heavily armored descendants of V. M. Japonica. Bred for obedience, venom potency, and stinger size. Each latches to a finger stinger-out, forming a sort of living bagh naka. On a bare-handed melee hit, the wielder deals 1d3 Constitution damage. A full rest and a successful Con check or healing check recovers 1d3 of this damage.

Enluss is not a species. It is a movement.

Enluss is the alternative to death. It is the struggle to create, regenerate, and sustain in a world that does not want you.

If you could see the kind of future that would come to pass without us, you would have no choice but to become us. Without us there would be no war, because there would be no world to fight over. You and me and everyone else here would have choked to death on the poisoned air many, many years ago, and nothing would grow here, and the waters would fall silent and still.

It has happened before, in another time.

If we had begun sooner, even a generation sooner, if we had been brave instead of desperate, we would never have needed to leave. We would have reclaimed our world from the worst part of ourselves with time left over to heal it. Instead we had time enough to run away and try again here.

We have seen your mistakes before. We made them. You possess the same craven attachment to false comforts and poisonous ideologies that nearly killed us. You live at war with your own bodies, which you refuse to meaningfully change. You weigh your actions based on outcomes that become irrelevant in spans of time shorter than a single life-cycle. You cling to a notion of self that treasures its worst features and diminishes all that makes you meaningful.

And until you see this and understand, the parts of this world that live and grow will be your enemy. So it was before we came, and so it will be long after we are gone. All we have done is given you a fighting chance.

When we are done, you will either finally deserve this world, or you will feed something that does.

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pirate-cannons · 6 years ago

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Just found your blog and it's so good to see a HC blog that's active, and I love the style you write yours in. Could I get some hcs for Zoro, Usopp, Sanji and Ace with an S/O who's a strong magic user? i.e. S/O is no slouch on the battlefield with their spells, and during calmer moments like when S/O is crafting a potion/preparing a ritual spell, they can faintly see the outlines of fae/sprites and other magic creatures normally invisible to the normal eye, but are drawn to their S/O.

Thanks so much! (I have a style?? cool) I feel bad you complimented me being active only for me to take so long to get to this one…OTL I am active I promise, work’s just been a bit crazy lately BUT THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCEThis one was very interesting and since OP hasn’t really touched on the whole magic thing (I mean there’s been some cases of it) this is kinda au kinda not…if that makes sense

Anywho thanks for waiting and I hope you like it!!

Zoro, Usopp, Sanji, and Ace with a s/o who is a strong magic user:

Zoro

Zoro doesn’t really understand Magic or anything about it, but totally thinks his s/o is one badass mofo

Obviously quite proud

“I’ll stick to my swords and you can do your…hand..motion hocus pocus thing…”

“Zoro, its called magic. It really isn’t that difficult.”

It’s inevitable that the two will get into a Sword vs Magic argument, but it’s all in good fun. The two respect each other too much to cause any problems

His s/o is a bit of a jokester and will play pranks on the rest of the crew

One time they cast a spell on Sanji that made him an old man for a couple hours and he ran around to Nami and Robin trying to convince them they needed to kiss him to break the curse

Zoro never let him forget that one

On the battlefield, Zoro never gets tired of watching his s/o annihilate their enemies, whether it be via fireballs, thunderstorms, even gravity

He’ll ask his s/o to train with him and develop these crazy practices that revolves around them casting spells at Zoro as he tries to defend himself

In the quieter moments, his s/o is content to read a book while he sleeps in the corner, most of the time they’ll be chatting excitedly about a new spell they developed and want to try in battle and Zoro will doze off with a smile on his face

But just before he fell asleep, he sees some odd shapes gathering around his s/o…?

Nah must have been a trick of the light

…Gotta remember to ask ‘em if they can summon me up some sake…?

Usopp

Needless to say, Usopp is the Number 1 Fan of his s/o

He thinks they are absolutely the coolest thing to ever have existed and will say so to anyone within a mile radius who will listen to him

Being the magnificent storyteller he is, you can bet the simple feat of his s.o warding off some bandits with a fireball will turn into…‘‘AND THEN THEY BROUGHT FORTH AN ERUPTION OF THE GREAT VOLCANO FIRETOP TO RAIN DOWN HELL ON ALL WHO DARE CHALLENGE THEM.”

Generally how most of the stories go~

His s/o will be amused and mention that they can’t actually make volcanoes erupt…

They also help Usopp in coming up with new ideas for weapons and improvements for previous ones, as well as helping him craft pretty deadly stuff for his slingshots

They can even enchant them to make it much stronger

A lot of times the two will just sit in a room, back-to-back as they work on their own separate projects

One time, Usopp leaned over to ask them something real quick when he noticed a faint outline leaning over his s/o shoulder

‘It’s kinda like when I thought I saw Merry…’

He’s not sure if he should ask them about it or if it was even there at all

Maybe he’s just delusional

His s/o eventually notices him staring at the space next to them

“You can see them too? They help me out when I’m in a pinch.”

If that’s not the coolest thing in the world, Usopp doesn’t know what is…

After that his stories become even more elaborate

According to him, his s/o has contracts with dragons, leviathans, and all sorts of creatures that do their bidding at will

Sanji

Sanji loves watching his s/o tear through a fight with their impressive powers, although he won’t admit it

He’s the first to sing their praises after a good fight and the last to stop

While Sanji is preparing food in the galley, his s/o is always close by with a book and a pad of paper

They enjoy going on and on about their craft and Sanji couldn’t be more enthralled

He loves listening to them go on about new spells, and improved potions and oh I should try this out next time and watching the way their face lights up in the process

They also offer what advice they can to him about new recipes, mostly on adjusting proportions and the like because that’s something they do often when it comes to potions

Sanji in turn offers what he knows of different ingredients and their properties, usually unknowingly helping his s/o discover that last piece of the puzzle they couldn’t figure out

Its in times like these, Sanji’s noticed a faint aura around his s/o…

He thinks he’s crazy at first, but after a couple of days, he realizes there is something there

At first he kinda panics that something is trying to harm his s/o but after watching closely, Sanji comes to the conclusion that they must be helping his s/o in some way

Because of course they gather to his s/o, they’re just that kind of a person

Ace

Ace was skeptical of the whole ‘magic’ thing and wasn’t really sure what to think of it

However, that quickly changed once he watched his s/o for the first time light someone on fire…

He decided magic is pretty cool after that

The two work well together on the battlefield and have even been called ‘The Flaming Duo’ by the rest of the crew, due to his s/o having a natural affinity for fire magic

…not to say they didn’t need to employ some water magic to put out stuff Ace accidentally lights on fire

The two will often be found together, either training, eating, or sleeping

Ace is an excellent punching bag when it comes to trying out new spells due to his logia

Although after nearly setting the ship on fire, they weren’t allowed to practice on the ship anymore (it was one time)

He doesn’t really understand magic or how it works, but he won’t complain when his s/o animatedly tries to explain it to him

Honestly he was lost 5 minutes into the explanation but didn’t dare stop them when they looked so happy to share their craft with him

Ace does have to interrupt them when they get to the summoning bit…

“So you can conjure up some food then? I’m starving!”

“Uh..no Ace. That’s not how this works.”

“Even just a sandwich?”

“….no.”

He sighs, but lets them continue on with their explanation

When he focuses more clearly on his s/o, he spots a hazy outline of something he can’t quite make out…

Weird

He gets up to take a closer look when he instantly falls down onto his s/o…asleep. A frequent occurrence honestly

Guess it’ll have to wait til morning

#one piece #roronoa zoro #usopp #black leg sanji #sanji vinsmoke #Portgas D. Ace #portgas ace #one piece headcanon #OP headcanon #headcanon #onepieceheadcanon #magic s/o #zoro one piece #Sanji (one piece)#usopp one piece #ace one piece

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nintendoduo · 7 years ago

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34 Cool WiiWare Games That Are Going Away FOREVER*

*Unless Nintendo decides to sell them again when the Switch U 4DS VR comes out in 2025.

As you might have heard, starting next Monday Nintendo is taking away the ability to add funds to the Wii Shop, which will close down for good in early 2019. That means a whole bunch of great games won’t be able to be purchased anymore. In order to raise awareness of this, the most important issue of our times (after all the other issues), we spent the winter playing as many WiiWare games as we could over on our YouTube channel. Here’s a summary of the gems we encountered:

1. 3D Pixel Racing

A pretty challenging motion control racing game with Minecraft-esque graphics. Pro tip: use a regular old Wiimote, not a Wiimote Plus. Trust us, the Plus is too sensitive for this game and you’ll end up falling off the track every two seconds. Despite the difficulty, this one gets a recommendation because of the cool look and for giving us an excuse to use the Mario Kart Wii wheel again.

2. And Yet It Moves

Using the Wiimote’s gyroscope, this game has you move the world around you (rather than vice versa) to navigate the levels. One of those “easy to learn, difficult to master” type of games that defined many of the best on the platform.

3. Bit.Trip Runner

Originally a WiiWare exclusive, although you can now play it on 3DS, PC, Mac, Linux, and probably some Japanese toilets. You run from left to right and jump, slide, kick and... jump again to the music. A tribute to the platforming classics that deservedly became a classic itself (and the sequel, available on Wii U, is even better).

4. BurgerTime: World Tour

You know, BurgerTime! If you don’t know, this is a good excuse to get acquainted with this ‘80s arcade title. Like in the original, you attempt to assemble giant hamburgers on a series of platforms whilst dodging humanoid food monsters, only this time the graphics are in 3D and it’s all happening in space, for some reason. NOTE: Ironically, this fast-food themed game can’t be bought in North America right now, only Europe.

5. Chrono Twins DX

Originally designed for the DS, the gimmick is that the main character is fighting enemies in two different time periods at once. For the DS this used each screen for the different time zones, but with WiiWare you get a simple split-screen. It’s quite unique and challenging as you’re basically playing two sidescrollers at once.

6. Contra Rebirth

Remember when dudes with rippling muscles and mullets got to be badass gunfighters and nobody complained they were toxic? Contra sure does. Konami gave “Rebirth” to three of their classic franchises on WiiWare (CastleVania and Gradius were the other two) but this was probably the best of the bunch.

7. Dracula: Undead Awakening

If you never get tired of mowing down undead enemies then this will scratch that itch. Basically you get a bunch of different cool weapons and use them against a bunch of different cool monsters for as long as you wish, or at least as long as you survive. The challenge is so high that even lasting ten minutes on your first playthrough has the game calling you “noob.”

8. Eduardo the Samurai Toaster

A simple run n’ gun game (think Metal Slug) starring a sentient toaster facing off against flying onions, spear-toting carrots, and what appears to be an army of angry playing cards. It’s not clear what the plot of the game is, and there’s not a whole lot of depth to the gameplay, but it’s still a fun way to waste an hour (or more, depending on the difficulty). It’s supposed to be even more fun with 4 players, if you can find three other Wii-loving weirdos.

9. Excitebike World Rally

Motorcycle races. Simplicity works sometimes, and just like the original Excitebike this one proves it once more. Just like the original you get a cool level creator, only this time you can share it with anyone and not just whoever you give your cartridge to.

10. Frogger: Hyper Arcade Edition

Lots of different modes that still capture the appeal of the original arcade classic. The overall look is kinda coked-up, which captures the ‘80s arcade scene reasonably well.

11. Frogger Returns

Only the one mode this time, but it serves as a reminder of the timeless quality and endearing appeal of the core gameplay.

12. Gnomz

A chaotic 4-player party game starring sock-obsessed gnomes. You go around a single screen collecting socks and stomping other players to kill them; it’s like life itself. (Or, as many have pointed out, like the Super Mario War fan game, but less illegal.) There are three modes and a variety of scenarios. Like with Eduardo the Samurai Toaster, the more players the better, but the single player mode ain’t bad (and that way, you don’t ruin any friendships).

13. Gyrostarr

A pseudo-3D shoot ‘em up where the main difficulty is that you can actually shoot the power ups away, and you kinda need those to finish the stages -- if you don’t collect enough energy, the portal at the end of the level closes on your face. The difficulty ramps up slowly but surely across 50 levels. Another difficulty is not getting an LSD flashback on those trippy bonus stages.

14. HoopWorld

A basketball/fighting game that makes surprisingly good use of the Wii’s motion controls. This definitely falls in the “easy to pick up, difficult to master” category, since there’s a pretty wide range of ball throws and kung-fu moves you can perform by shaking your Wiimote and nunchuck in different ways. Or you can just wave your arms randomly and hope you win. The game is currently unlisted in North America, which we’re hoping is a sign that they’re planning to re-release it in modern platforms (with online multiplayer, hopefully).

15. Horizon Riders

A futuristic on-rails shooting game that you play with the Wii balance board. If you have the Wii Zapper accessory, even better (and you’ll look even sillier), but it’s not necessary to play. You aim and shoot with your Wiimote while leaning on your balance board to move from side to side. Definitely a good reason to dig that thing out of your closet. Be warned, though, that the game crashed on us in the middle of a stage, as seen at the end of our gameplay video.

16. Jam City Rollergirls

Roller derby has never been as popular to watch as it is for people to randomly talk about every few years for the novelty, usually accompanied by a movie that flops at the box office. The last time the mainstream tried to make this sport happen it resulted in this game, though, so there’s at least that. You play as characters with hilarious names roller blading through others with random power-ups and combat moves.

17. Jett Rocket

It’s a lofty ambition to offer gamers something that will remind them of Super Mario Galaxy, and it might seem foolish to do so on an indie dev’s budget. But Shin’en managed to deliver with an uncommon 3D platformer collectathon with good amounts of action sprinkled in.

18. LostWinds

When a developer approached a title with motion controls in mind, it always stood out more than other games that tried to crowbar motion controls into the scenery in the hopes of a shortcut to Wii success. LostWinds is in the former camp, making you use the pointer to create gusts of wind to elevate the main character onto platforms and knock around enemies. In fact it’d be more accurate to say you’re playing as the wind spirit rather than the story’s protagonist. Fun game with a beautiful art style.

19. Maboshi's Arcade

Nintendo knows how to make simple games that present difficulty when you don’t expect it. In the three modes of this puzzler you play as generic shapes but the controls are difficult to master. It kind of has to be seen to be believed.

20. Magnetica Twist

A connect-three type of game where you fire marbles and stuff. What ends up twisted the most are your wrists whilst trying to aim your shots with any sort of precision.

21. Max and the Magic Marker

There are plenty of side-scrolling platformers that use childhood visuals and hobbies to appeal to the player, and yet they never really get old do they? In this one you use a marker via motion controls to create platforms and defeat enemies. You also can go in and out of Max’s childhood drawings.

22. Monsteca Corral

This is a weird one. A bunch of monsters vaguely shaped like Doshin the Giant are gathered together by an unseen god-ish alien to fight robots that said alien had created earlier, but they turned against him. That’s the plot as we can best make out, anyways. There’s also dinosaurs. Recommended for those who like their fun to be completely unlike the other fun they’ve had with games.

23. Pearl Harbor Trilogy – 1941: Red Sun Rising

Old-school dogfighting in a new-school 3D game. Well, it was new when it released. Anyways you shoot down enemy planes, defend your base, attack naval fleets and get commendations you don’t deserve. Sometimes you see the action from the POV of the bombs you drop, and it works much better here than in Michael Bay’s version of Pearl Harbor.

24. Pole's Big Adventure

Chindōchū!! Pole no Daibōken is bizarre Japan-only SEGA title made to parody the crappy platform games that came out during the 8-bit era. Despite being full of intentional design flaws, like power ups that kill you or background objects that suddenly cut your head off, the game is pretty easy -- until you unlock hard mode, where the boss fights are actually challenging. Still, you’ll be playing this one mostly to laugh at the dozens of Easter eggs.

25. PictureBook Games: Pop Up Pursuit

Not many board games made it to WiiWare, but this was easily the best. It’s largely straightforward “run to the end of the board” contests, with plenty of opportunities to ruin friendships. The art style is the main hook, looking like a pop-up book, like the title indicates.

26. Rage of the Gladiator

You fight for your life against larger-than-life mythological creatures, like ogres and minotaurs and senseis. The game got compared frequently to Punch-Out!! and with good reason, but the combat is actually a more creative and the dialogue is more humorous. A blast to play through the first time, and a blast to replay.

27. Snowpack Park

Unlike most of the games on this list, there’s no combat in this one and your blood pressure won’t ever raise. There’s plenty to do but it’s fun stuff, mostly involving playing with penguins. It works great as a sort of palette cleanser to the violent action-packed games primarily showcased in this list.

28. Sonic the Hedgehog 4

The 16-bit Sonic games still hold up today as all-time greats. Sonic 4 didn’t live up to those expectations but it did get SEGA to think about their past a little more seriously, and helped lead to Sonic Mania. Episode I is on WiiWare, but you’ll have to find Episode II elsewhere.

29. Space Invaders Get Even

Another sequel to another arcade classic, but with the novel twist of playing the game from the enemies’ point of view. Word of warning: this is possibly the only WIiWare game that has DLC. The initial purchase of 500 points will escalate up to 2′000 points if you’re enjoying yourself.

30. Star Soldier R

Top-down arcade-style shooter, and if you know the type you know the drill. The amount of content is pretty bare-bones, as it’s basically just time attacks. But the replayability is rewarding if you’re a fan of the genre.

31. Tetris Party

We hope you know Tetris. This is a Tetris that has good multiplayer, interesting variants where you do things like create platforms for some guy to climb to the top of the screen or use the tetrinos to make exact shapes like that of an apple. There’s also a balance board mode, and as stated earlier it’s good to have an excuse to pull out the balance board.

32. Vampire Crystals

Vampires used to live peacefully with zombies but now they don’t, and it becomes your problem. Thankfully you get plenty of guns, some so powerful that you end up creating a bullet hell where you’re the one firing them rather than dodging them. It looks simple but the game actually is quite tough. It’s not Cuphead-level but you will fail many times over. With plenty of content and being one of the last WiiWare releases, this title approached the platform’s fullest potential.

33. WarioWare DIY

What sets this apart from the 87 other WarioWare games? The fact that players could make their own minigames, leading to an avalanche of creative, insane, and even NSFW games. Unfortunately the servers are no longer online, but you can still find thousands of fan games online if you look hard enough. The included games are pretty fun too, and if you have the DS version, you can make your own and send them over to your Wii.

34. Zombie Panic in Wonderland

Shooting galleries are perfect for motion controls, but gamers don’t get as many as we deserve. Thankfully this one helps rectify that, with an interesting story and cool comic-book art sequences that keep things moving between all the gunning down of zombies and various giant monsters.

#wiiware #wii #nintendo #luigi

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