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unrestedjade · 4 years ago

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Baseless Ferengi headcanons no one asked for and that get increasingly queer-navel-gazing and self indulgent because the horrible space goblins have consumed my brain:

- Mobile ears, because if hearing is so well developed and important to them they should be able to aim those big stupid radar dishes. Also because then they can emote with them and that's cute. THE AESTHETIC IS PARAMOUNT.

- Since they canonically sharpen their teeth with chew sticks and sharpeners, their teeth must grow continuously. So I submit: subcultures that let certain teeth grow out as a fashion/political statement. Ferengi punks and anarchists with 5" tusks. Ferengi with all their teeth filed flat (mom and dad HATE it).

- Corollary to the above, most of their teeth are crooked. At the least, they don't share our fetish for straight teeth. What if their teeth are deciduous, and there's no point in trying to force them into perfect alignment, since they'll just fall out and get replaced? So like, sharks but their teeth can also grow longer with no limit. WHAT HAST EVOLUTION WROUGHT ON FERENGINAR :V

- Parents nagging their kids to sharpen their teeth "or they'll grow up into your brain and you'll die :)"

- Personal space? Don't know her.

Okay I need a cut because there's too many now. WHOLE SOCIETY OF GAY HOMOPHOBIC UNCLES AND AUNTS GO I HAVE A PROBLEM

- I can't remember who on here put forth the idea of them having retractable claws but Yes. :3

- Pushing back against the worst canon episode a bit but: relative ear size being the only obvious sexually dimorphic trait, and even that having enough of a gray area that the only way to be 100% sure you're talking to a male or female Ferengi is if you do a blood test. Unless they're intersex! *shrug emoji*

- This is why they're so fanatical about gender conformity and their Victorian "separate spheres" attitude to men and women's roles. Capitalist patriarchy is fragile! And as artificial to Ferengi as it ever was to Humans! (self-indulgenceeeee about gender shiiiiit)

- You know how with domesticated rabbits, the rabbit getting groomed and paid attention to is the boss? Yeah. Go ahead and paint your bestie's nails, just don't be surprised if she cops a little bit of an attitude with you from then on.

- Their fight/flight/freeze/fawn instincts skew heavily toward the last three, and what a lot of other species read as annoying sucking up is the Ferengi in question feeling anxious and unsafe. Especially if they don't feel integrated into the group. Even being at the bottom of the pecking order is better than not being in the flock at all.

- If they DO opt for fight, it's ugly and typically their last resort. Bites or scratches will get infected without intervention-- microbes that their immune system can handle could cause big trouble for aliens. You might wanna check for full or partial teeth that break off and get lodged in the wound, too.

- Too many of these are tooth related but I don't care. :B More teeth stuff: you know what else has teeth that grow constantly? Puffer fish. Likewise, Ferengi can chew up mollusk shells as easy as potato chips, and they need the minerals for their teeth. (Imagine grandpa Sisko offering Nog a crayfish for the first time and watching as he just...pops the whole damn thing in his mouth and crunches away...)

- Their staple foods seem to be grubs and other arthropods, high in protein and fat. I've unilaterally decided their cuisine also involves a lot of edible fungi, ferns, plant shoots and seeds. Gotta get those vitamins. Overall flavor profile leaning toward umami, vegetal, and fresh herbs, and pretty mild (or "delicate" if you wanna be snooty about it, which a Ferengi probably would let's be real).

- Not much sugary food. I'm basing this solely on Quark's aversion to root beer as "cloying". Which could definitely just be his personal preference, but most of the people I hear hating on root beer cite the actual sassafras/sarsaparilla flavor (saying it tastes like medicine) not the sweetness. Nog might be the weirdo outlier for being able to enjoy it.

- Their home planet isn't bright and sunny, so their eyes are better at discerning shades of gray in low light conditions, with relatively weak color vision. Which could explain why they dress Like That.

- Conversely, human music has a reputation for stinking on ice because a lot of it is juuuuust lightly dissonant or out of tune because we can't pick up flaws that small. Ferengi can, and it drives them up the *wall*.

- Music? So many different kinds. Traditionally, maybe lots of percussion and winds, and water as a common component of many instruments to alter pitch or tone. Polyphony out the ass. Some of the modern stuff is an impenetrable wall of sound if you're not a species with a lot of brain real estate devoted to processing sounds. Pick out one melody to follow at a time.

- Yes, back to teeth again I'm sorry. It's a sickness. At some point in their history, pre-chewing food was just something you did for your baby or great grandma as a matter of necessity. Possibly your baby gets an important boost to their immune system and gut biome from your spit. At some point takes on a more formal intimacy aspect and gradually drifted from something all adults and older kids do to something only women do. Your husband and older kids have perfectly functional teeth, but you love them, right? =_= (Think old memes about husbands being useless in the kitchen if little wifey isn't there to cook, but even more ridiculous. Ishka was right about everything but especially this. Thank you for making your family chew their own food, Ishka. Not all heroes wear capes. Or anything!)

- How did they get started on the whole men: clothed vs women: unclothed nonsense? My equally stupid idea: men just get cold easier. Those huge ears dissipate a ton of body heat. Cue Ferengi cliches like "jeez, we could be standing on the surface of the sun and my husband would put on another layer." At some point, again, this got codified and pushed to ridiculous extremes in the name of controlling women and keeping everyone in their assigned box, to the point that women just have to shiver if they really are too cold and men have to pass out from heat stroke if the alternative is going shirtless, because That Would Be Inappropriate.

- Marriages default to five years, but they're also the only avenue for women to have their own household or any stability. Plus their religion places no emphasis on purity save for pure adherence to the free market and the RoA. So, curveball to the rest of their patriarchal bullshit: female virginity isn't a concern in the least. Bring it up and they'll rightly side-eye you.

- Family law is absolutely bonkers and lawyers that specialize in it make BANK. I feel like custody would default to the father usually but oh wait, the maternal grandfather has a legal stake in this, too, and your next father-in-law is asking HOW many kids are you dragging into my daughter's house, etc etc. Growing up with a full sibling is way rarer than growing up with half or stepsiblings, since it usually takes both men and women two or three tries to find someone they vibe with. (Not love, unless you're super cringe.)

- A misogynistic society is a homophobic society. Imo those flavors of shittiness just come in pairs. Homosexual behaviors are fine within certain parameters (aka "always have sex with the boss") but not on your own terms. To add spice, bisexuality is their most common mode (because I'm bi and these are my hcs for my fics I'm not writing, so there), but capitalism demands fresh grist for the mill so you better get het-married and pop out some kids you lowly peons. You have a choice so make the proper one. :)

- Corollary to the above, that doesn't keep all kinds of illicit "we're just friends with quid-pro-quo benefits for realsies" affairs of every stripe and every gender from going on everywhere. Many Ferengi have a lightbulb moment somewhere in early adulthood when they figure out their dad's business partner or the "auntie" who visited their mom every month had a little more going on.

- Plus there's way more gender non-conformity and varying degrees of trans-ing than the powers that be have a handle on. Pel isn't unique, even if most would have to somehow make it out into space to be able to thrive.

Damn a lot of these are just my personal bugbears plus THE GILDED AGE BUT WITH HAIRLESS SPACE RODENTS ain't they

- Women can't earn profit, okay. But lending or "lending" things to each other isn't commerce, riiiiiiight? To be assigned female is to master navigating a vast, dizzying barter/gift economy. Smart boys and men leverage this, too, and there are splinter sects that view this as the purest expression of the Great Material Continuum.

- Of course plenty of women make profit anyway, and just do their bast to dodge the FCA. The tough thing about insisting on using latinum as currency is that cash can be so hard to track, you know?

- Because of the RoA, guys are discouraged from doing favors or giving gifts without setting clear expectation of getting some return on investment. This can twist into an expression of friendship (and of course women do it too), and the ledger will keep cycling between debit and credit among friends for decades. A common mistake aliens make is to tell them recompense isn't needed without explaining why, or return their favor or present with something that zeroes out the debt. The Ferengi will assume you want to break off the friendship. (I cribbed this from dim memories of an African studies course I took in 2007 and whose textbook I know I still have but I can't frigging find it...)

- Flirting, they do a lot of it for a lot of reasons. Roddenberry made it clear that they're just straight up pretty horny, but there's no reason it can't pull double duty for building alliances with other people, smoothing over feuds or disagreements, or cementing friendships. Ferengi who are ace and/or sex-repulsed are possibly viewed similar to the way we'd view someone who's "not a hugger/not big on touching" and if they flirt just don't get offended if it doesn't go any further; aro Ferengi don't garner much comment aside from an occasional "wow how badass, never falling in love with anyone."

- where to even start on making sense of the Blessed Exchequer??? Like seriously, what is this literal prosperity gospel insanity, I need to force myself to re-read Rand and like, some Milton Friedman for this shit. Help.

- fuck I'm probably going to actually do that, RIP me...

#ds9 #star trek #meta #ferengi #i love them Too Much help #reliving my brief libertarian phase from high school from the opposite direction #my heart wants to make them simultaneously as queer and as repressed as possible #i didn't even make it to the goddamned blessed exchequer my head is too full #i will find beauty in this vulgarity if it kills me #this is too long #why did i spend my time this way

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normal-thoughts-official · 3 years ago

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Do you think Alec and Magnus use condoms? How do you think warlocks deal with STD?

REALLY interesting question, i must say that i love it. thank you anon. i hope you know that i will take it way too seriously

okay, so the first question is, ARE magnus and alec susceptible to STDs? unexpected p-words are not a problem because warlocks are sterile anyway (and, if you subscribe to both magnus and alec being of the same AGAB, also because it's not possible to get both gametes or whatever), so let's focus on the STD aspect (really important!). i think human STDs would not affect them, or at least not magnus. maybe alec because shadowhunters are notably more susceptible to weaknesses humans have, like disease and mortality and whatnot. but would human STDs affect warlocks?

i tend to go with no, because warlocks are immortal. immortality, especially as it is built in the sh verse (immortals can be killed but their body won't die on its own) kind of implies that they have, like, supercells or superorgans or something, that don't deteriorate - or, alternatively, that can rebuild way faster than they could be deterioriated. im saying that because stuff like aging and eventually dying is essentially the process in which your body can no longer replace dying cells at the same speed at which they die, which leads to your body weakening as a lot of its functions are impaired. therefore, immortality as in not aging and not dying on your own but still being able to be killed if you are, say, stabbed, implies that that process simply doesn't happen. so we have one of the two: either the cells don't die, or the speed at which they are replaced never changes

in my understanding, this implies that diseases don't affect immortals. maybe they can even contract them, but their body is too strong for it to have an effect. like having a disease without symptoms. but i tend to believe that rather than living with 8945134081 deadly viruses and bacteria inside them just sleeping around, the viruses and bacteria simply can't live inside them - both because superbody means super-immunological system and because superbody means that the bacteria and viruses essentially have no place to grow in, as they can't break their cells or whatever it is that that particular strain does

like - and that is true particularly for viruses as far as i remember, not so much bacteria - the way these mfs work is that they attack the cells of a body and use them to reproduce. but if you are talking about a body that has cells that are essentially unbreakable or so highly regenerative any attack on them is dealt with so quickly it doesn't even have an effect, i don't think any virus should be able to break into their cells in the first place. they would die without reproducing and bam, done. if you are going with the second theory (warlock cells do die, they just can keep replacing them as much as they want without a problem) then you probably have a situation where the virus can reproduce, but its reproduction doesn't lead to any problems because the dead cells are replaced as fast as they are killed. in that case, the warlock would be, technically, carrying the disease indefinitely. but i tend to think that considering how strong that body is and the fact that they have an immunological system (as they are half human and have no reason not to inherit that from their human parents) that is ALSO mega strong would mean these viruses would probably be eliminated quickly

bacterial diseases are different since mostly what bacterias do (again as far as i remember) is that they live inside the body, not necessarily inside the cells, but using the body's space to reproduce, and eventually their presence - usually due to the fact that they produce toxic elements that affect the host - leads to nearby cells dying/the space they are in deteriorating, etc. but again warlock's cells are either essentially unbreakable or highly regenerative, so that wouldn't be a problem, and they could overpower invasive bacteria easily before a colony could form. so, no human bacterial diseases would be able to flourish, either

and that's not even considering the fact that as they are half human they probably have an immunological system that is ALSO superstrong and therefore able to fuck up any disease causers. or the role magic might take in protecting the body, like, who's to say the magic itself doesn't kill any invasive bacteria or viruses that come into the body before it can do anything? why not?

so all of that, allied with the fact that many viruses and bacteria are evolved to develop within the systems of a particular species (for example, that particular virus has evolved to grow in a cow's digestive system, and therefore can't survive for long in a monkey's or a human's), is interpreted by me as "warlocks can't contract human diseases", since warlocks are a different species from humans, as are shadowhunters. sure, they're hybrids, which makes this part of the argument a little more complicated but obviously their demon side is stronger than their human side, since they are immortal. and demons definitely aren't getting rabies or whatever because that is just too fucking lame

so okay! no human STDs. we have established that now. bUT, i think it's possible that warlocks are able to contract their OWN diseases - strains that attack warlocks specifically, particularly a warlock's magic, since again they kind of have a superbody but i feel like the magic is a more fragile thing, especially as they aren't fully magical (because they're half human)

don't ask me how these work <3 obviously magic can interact with non-magical beings and elements so maybe there are bacteria are viruses that developed specifically to settle in magical components, but that sounds like a huge evolutive leap since magic is so different from like, cells. or maybe there are also magical beings that work as disease transmitters in a similar but essentially different way. and they probably can also be transmitted via sex because i mean, why not? sounds as good a mean as any

but, could magnus and alec transmit those to each other? i don't think so, because shadowhunters have wildly different magic from the one warlocks do - their magic is angel magic, warlock's is demon magic, AND, furthermore, they work in completely different ways. for starters, shadowhunters magic is so pathetic diluted that some of them don't even consider it magic at all. i mean, that is also because of good ole racism (hardly the first time racism led people to call the exact same thing by different names so they can convince themselves their way of being is superior even when it is the same) but there is a huge difference because warlocks are able to conjure and interact with magic and have it as a part of their beings and experience of the world through it, whereas shadowhunters can "borrow" particular powers for a small period of time at best. it is possible that the magic doesn't even exist within them, they are just capable of handling it inside their bodies for some time, which is why they need runes to use it and it has a limited effect

so i think diseases that affect warlocks could not be passed between magnus and alec, and WOW is it weird to realize that magnus and alec are of different species. like i knew that but when that knowledge comes to practice it's just so weird. anyway

and idk if diseases that affect warlocks would be able to live dormant inside shadowhunters and then be transmitted because, like i said, shadowhunters have completely different magic if they even have it at all, and i don't think the disease beings that live in warlock magic would be able to be inside their body. so, to answer your first question - i don't think magnus and alec would NEED condoms, because i don't think they are capable of passing STDs to each other, and in at the very least magnus' case (debatable for alec, i tend to think that because shadowhunters are essentially human they can catch any disease humans can, altho maybe they have a rune to begone them) i don't think they can even catch human STDs. and magnus has a cum kink so that probably means no condoms

as for how warlocks deal with STDs! like i said i think they are only affected by STDs (and diseases in general) that affect their magic, not their body. so, they probably have treatments for those. we gotta remember that warlocks have a very developed society full of academics, so they probably have worked to find cures for magical diseases, if they exist at all. so, there are probably particular treatments for those. i don't think magical diseases abound or anything, particularly because the amount of magical beings is pretty limited and magic is so different from non-magical elements so non-magical beings such as viruses and bacteria would have to change a lot to be able to evolve into magic-affecting beings. again, if they even exist. but yeah i think they as a (group of) society(ies) have worked on cures for those. which is funny to think about because like, do they blast the magical diseases with begone rays or something? please say yes. id love that

with all of that being said, i hope u know that i was planning on answering asks the next weekend (not this one, the other one) cuz ive been busy as hell lately and it'll be the first time i'll have time lmao, and i was literally just in a bathroom break between readings when i saw this ask and i just couldn't resist answering it. this is it. what broke my studying resolve. magical STDs. you should be proud

mandatory disclaimer that please for the love of god use condoms, you are not immune to STDs. also, this post is about show canon, not book canon, so i don't care if this is in accordance to what the books say. also, i'm no expert in healthcare, this post is just for fun, so don't take anything i used to build my arguments as scientific truth or anything like that

#sh #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #dirty words #hello everyone! i have been gone for quite some time. please accept: this #now back to studying #lore #meta #ask #anonymous #long post #im not sure if this is very comprehensible but i did my best

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nooowestayandgetcaught · 3 years ago

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ALL 40 BAYBEE!!!!! GIMME SUM ANSWERS

5) Share one of your strengths.

Being,,, prolific?? ?????? ??? ???????????

6) Share one of your weaknesses.

My own mind. No really I'm basically my own worst enemy because I'm too much of a perfectionist and hate myself and mess myself up.

7) Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Stars are the many, many eyes left behind of the Old Gods.

Arya heard this before. She's heard that the stars are the last of the Weeping Lady's tears. They are the eternally bleeding wounds of the Great Shepard according to the Dothraki. They are the drops of poison given to Baelor the Beloved as he laid asleep. They are the immortal sparks of R'hallor's breath. Arya believes the stars are nothing. They exist in a chasm of darkness and death, and no-one is meant to understand why.

Evermore (T, Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Game of Thrones, 1179 words)

I HAD A LOT OF FUN GOING THROUGH WESTOROS MYTHOLOGY AND TALES IN HISTORY TO MAKE THAT PART. AND THEN WRITING OUT ARYA'S THOUGHTS ABOUT THAT.

8) Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

"I liked this shirt, you know," Will complains faintly.

Behind him, one of the car-windows rattle. A badly burned hand emerges from the smoke, clawing helplessly.

"We will find you another," Hannibal tells him, disregarding the murderer's intense, gagging screams.

"That's not the point."

"You're holding on needlessly to the limited value of your material possessions, Will. That's not like you." Hannibal lightly clucks his tongue as if disapproving, approaching him and thumbing down Will's jaw. He's warm and wet, and glorious. He's evolving.

"Says the man who buys Patek Philippe wristwatches," Will retorts softly. "For his own pleasure."

The corner of Hannibal's mouth smirks.

"And what kind of pleasure exists within your mind's eye right now, Will?"

"Ripping out your jugular vein with my teeth," Will murmurs, stroking his lambskin-gloved thumb against Hannibal's neck.

"I would be honored."

The Crescendo Of Dying Screams (M, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal (TV), 908 words)

THIS IS JUST FUN!!! THEY WERE FUN TO WRITE FOR AGAIN AND I HAVE NOT WRITTEN FOR HANNIGRAM IN A WHILE!!

13) What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Even if you think it sucks,,,, write it down anyway and then fix it later. The important part is to write and start writing.

14) What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Thankfully,,, I don't think I've come across any yet.

15) If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I would love to see Perambulate (G, Princess Bubblegum/Marceline & Prince Gumball/Marshall Lee, Adventure Time, 1358 words) done in a comic at least because I NEED THESE TWO CANON COUPLES TO MEET AND BE SILLY. CANON WLW AND MLM.

16) If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

NOT REALISTIC. I DO NOT FUNCTION LIKE THAT

17) Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I start out from beginning to ending but sometimes I gotta skip around to keep it going if I get stuck.

18) Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

*shrugs*

19) Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

It's probably a little moth trapped in a jar and beating itself senselessly against the glass, but it kind of enjoys it??

20) Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Wrapped in a blanket, alone in my room with headphones and music blasting, with a large water bottle and a little bit of chocolate.

21) How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Depends really! Sometimes I'll go through and correct once, and sometimes I will go through like 14 times in one day!

24) Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

I have! I will upload it again sometime but like,,,,, the person I had made it for in an AO3 fest basically fucked off and me removing it was me going "nah fuck this,,,, it ain't yours anymore!!!"

27) How do you feel about collaborations?

I have done them! I think they're nice! I do not like long term collaboration projects but for a oneshot, yes!

28) Share your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

@glove23 - I look up to this fic writer so much! They have been battling depression and anxiety, and the complexities of their ADHD, for such a long time and whenever they post something,,, I get so excited! I'm really proud of them! It's hard enough for me to write on a bad mental health day, and I know the struggle they go through, and it's INCREDIBLE to see what they can do! They have been writing since they were young and it really shows how much they love writing and how hard they work on getting the characterization and dialogue to be spot on! Obsessed with their work! (AO3)

@not-so-mundane-after-all-97 - What a powerhouse! Incredible writing and fantastic handling of how she structures plot! Constantly in awe of the ideas she has and when they are well-executed (and they are all of the time)! If you are a fan of Will/Lyra from HDM, this is the person to go to for quality! I promise! (AO3)

other writers I really like are @spookywitchnerd24, @theschubita, @anxiouss-princess, @asajjvxntress, @kingburu, @rapha-writes

29) If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

ngl I really wanna do the "they get back from horse riding and Aleksander refuses to leave Alina's side while she's getting healed" sequel to you are too well tangled in my soul by @glove23

31) Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

Meh. It depends on the thing I'm writing.

32) How do you feel about smut?

I write it all of the time and read it all of the time. I don't think it's a big deal at all. I respect that it's uncomfy for a lot of people

33) How do you feel about crack?

It's fun! And it can be done well! I saw more crack fic being done back in,,,, like the early 00s and now I don't see it as much,,,,, sad

34) What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

You know what,,, I was just discussing the psychology of why noncon fic is so popular on AO3 (and I have written it before and to my surprise IT GETS THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF VIEWS) and,,, I think the key components to answering this question is understanding that 1) AO3 allows noncon fic to exist therefore it's a dumping ground and 2) rape culture is so embedded into US-centric society especially and 3) there's a lot of traumatized people on AO3 and likely creating noncon to process what happened to them and 4) it's a taboo subject and humanity has been drawn to and obsessed with what is taboo since forever,,,, and tbh the taboo is fascinating to me! It does draw me in! I have written for it and I've read it, and I think it's important to ask questions and examine why we do this!

35) Would you ever kill off a canon character?

HELL YEAH. ABSOLUTELY. I HAVE DONE IT BEFORE AND I'LL DO IT AGAIN!! I prefer more "oh my god they're dead--OH! now they're alive! yayyyyy!" over permanent character death

36) Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3. AO3 is queen. I'm not gonna badmouth FFN and Wattpad in terms of people who go there because that's your business however FFN and Wattpad are largely restrictive and mainstream corporate owned areas of interest that don't give a single shit about their users.

38) Talk about a review that made your day.

Whenever my writer friends comment on my fic,,, I literally get emotional. Like those are my favorite comments to see :)

39) Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

BE SAD FOR HALF A SECOND AND THEN FIGHT.

#ask #WELL THIS GOT LONG KLFKFFDDF

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jemej3m · 4 years ago

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hi i love love love your writing! sorry if people have been asking this but ive been looking for a part three of your lawyer!andrew and neil is on trial for killing his father and I wasnt sure if I missed it or if you haven’t continued it. Just wondering thank you ❤️

well GUEsS WHAT MY FRIEND

its here!!!

(p1 / p2)

Andrew didn’t like to drag things out, but the prosecution did. They always did. It was their only joy in life, especially in appeals: tease every possible fraying strand of a case till they were three weeks into the trial and the jury was dead on their feet.

And yet, here he was, on the second day of his closing. He’d never made it to a second day: once he’d finished a closing in five minutes.

Neil had grown progressively more antsy over the three weeks, desperate for a resolution. Every time he was scanned into court, Andrew took his favourite key and slipped it into his pocket. Every time he left to be escorted back to his temporary holding cell in Baltimore’s central policing station, he gave it back for safekeeping. Andrew would hold it, the metal still warm to the touch, the teeth of the key worn with how many times Neil would run the tips of his fingers over it.

Professionalism, Betsy had warned him.

But damn it all to hell: Andrew was gone.

“Mr Minyard, if you would continue where we left off last night?” the judge drawled. Andrew could read people better than books: it wasn’t looking good. This was his last chance.

He stood up, shoved down the strange anger that had simmered beneath his skin every time the prosecution slid their pompous gazes over him, and closed his laptop. His briefcase. Put away his notes and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his slacks.

“Your honour,” he said, with as much grace as his perpetually bored tone allowed. “This case is beyond that of my client. That much we can all agree upon.”

He waited for an answer.

The judge cocked her head. “Yes, Minyard.”

“It is a gruesome story of a luckless, loveless marriage, made for the sakes of alliances and blood money. Mary Wesninski paid that price with her life, when her husband took his favourite weapon - a cleaver - to her throat. My client was 17 when that happened. He was a minor. A child.”

He turned to the jury. “Over and over, I have rebutted the prosecution’s solitary and feeble argument that my client is Nathan Wesninski’s son. The very Nathan Wesninski who earned his name, the Butcher, through bloody campaigns and fearmongering. That Nathaniel Wesninski was destined to follow his father’s path and continue his legacy.”

“If it weren’t for his mother, perhaps he would have,” Andrew said, rocking back on his heels. “Without intervention, there’s no doubt that Nathaniel Wesninski would have been a carbon copy of his predecessor, and just as bloodthirsty. But that man -” he pointed at Neil. “That man is not Nathaniel Wesninski. Not in the way his father wanted him to be.”

“We’ve seen the pictures of my client’s torso. The bullet wounds and gruesome knifings that he earned whilst clawing desperately to free himself from his father’s iron grasp. Worse still: we’ve seen the proof of a tormented childhood, skin torn off by a hot iron, stitches from misplaced butter knives at the dinner table when Junior, seven years old, didn’t sit still enough. A crooked nose, broken three times before he managed to escape.”

He looked to the one woman who he knew would recognise this pain, this trauma.

“You should have no doubt in your minds that this man here, my client,” Andrew said, voice lowered down. “This man was simply fighting for his life. He was running from his worst nightmare, clawing desperately for freedom when all he’d known was pain, chains and despair. He fought against what his father wished for him, every step of the way. In self-defence, he rid the world a serial killer. A rapist. A man who had committed every atrocity known to humankind. If anything, we should be thanking him.”

The room had gone deathly quiet.

“Ask yourselves,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Is purging the world of a monster that monstrous of a thing to do?”

He turned back to the judge.

“My client has served his time. He’s done twice as long as he should have for manslaughter, which is the true nature of this crime. Repeatedly, my client has expressed his willingness to comply with parole measures and prove himself a functioning member of our society. If you have any humanity left within you,”

He looked over his shoulder at Neil. The man held his gaze, blue eyes so intense that Andrew nearly lost his train of thought.

“Any humanity at all,” he continued. The judge looked down at him, face blank. “You would grant his mother her dying wish, and finally let this injustice rest.”

He returned to his desk. “That’s all, your honour.”

It took her a few moments to clear her throat and call: “Court adjourned.”

Two policemen came and cuffed Neil’s hands behind his back. Andrew had done everything he could: it was out of his hands now. He mightn’t ever see Neil again, if by the afternoon the jury had decided Neil’s pleas were worthless and had him sent him right back to maximum security.

“Thank you,” the man said, just before he was turned away. “You were amazing.”

Andrew remained very still until the courtroom was empty.

Now all he could do was wait.

“The ‘dying wish’ thing was intense,” Matt commented around a mouthful of falafel. Dan flicked a crumb off his tie, looking at him with an irritated fondness. Both of them - Wymack too - had sat in for both days of his closing. Dan because she pretended she had any sense of authority over Andrew, Wymack because he was Andrew’s boss, and Matt because he was fatally friendly and had never missed a closing of any of his coworkers, even Andrew.

“The whole thing was intense,” Dan grumbled.

“I bet the sexual tension was off the charts,” Allison called out, kicked up her feet onto her desk as she ignored Renee’s unsubtle shushing.

Andrew ignored them all.

“We’re just waiting for the verdict?”

“We’ll be called in when the jury’s ready.”

“It’s been two days. They’ve dragged this on long enough.”

The phone on his desk started ringing. He shoved it against his ear and said “What.”

“Mr Minyard? This is Amy Johnston from the Post, I was just wondering if you wanted to comment on the outcome of your most recent case -”

He slammed the phone back down onto the receiver, jolting his coworkers out of their idle chatter. He was going to kill Nicky for letting the press through. His cousin was useless, and the press were even worse: there was no outcome. The jury had been silent for 2 days, and at this rate, it’d probably go into three.

Wymack texted him. I know you’re still at the office. Go home.

Andrew didn’t need to be told twice.

He careened his ludicrously expensive car into the driveway of his small home. Being a lawyer did have its perks, even if his fellows were curious busybodies and he got attached to impossible cases. He’d crack a better whisky tonight and herald in the news of him impending failure half drunk.

He was never taking a case like this again. Of course, there was no case quite like Nathaniel Wesninski’s, but the point still remained.

He unlocked his front door, stepped inside, and immediately stilled.

The heater was on.

His briefcase, blazer and tie came off, thrown haphazardly in the general direction of Andrew’s study. When he entered his kitchen, he skidded to a stop.

“Hi,” Neil said, skin far more bronze without the gaudy orange jumpsuit. Andrew just stared. The man ducked his head down, lacing his fingers behind his back. “I - uh, I got Wymack to call you in sick for the verdict. Wanted to surprise you.”

“You knew,” Andrew said. “You knew the outcome?”

“Of course,” Neil snorted. “Had to do something with the bloodmoney. Don’t worry, it was only two of them. The rest you had hooked.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Andrew said flatly. Neil’s grin flashed, but he was clearly way out of his depth here. Free and nervous about it. Here, because he thought that Andrew would be the only one that cared.

And he did. For the first time, he did.

The man gestured at his ankle. “18 months parole. It’s a bit heavy but I’ll get used to it with time, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck, curls bouncing. “Gotta find somewhere to live, I suppose. Figure out how normal life works. I’m applying for a name change: the first random name generator on Google gave me Josten, so that’s probably what I’ll go with.”

“You’re a disaster,” Andrew managed, fighting every urge not to reach out and comb his fingers through the man’s hair.

“What else is new?” Neil joked.

“You said you’d go to law school.”

His eyes widened slightly. “You’re holding me to that?”

Andrew shrugged. “It’s your life.”

“I suppose you’ll regret taking me on when I end up stealing your cases,” Neil teased, leaning a little closer.

Andrew reached up and tugged on Neil’s collar. “I don’t believe in regret. But I sure as hell will give you the challenge.”

Neil’s lips quirked up at the side, warping his scars and making Andrew’s chest ache.

“Stay,” Andrew said, softer than he intended.

And, now that he could choose to, Neil Josten, freshly minted and definitely real, whispered: “Okay.”

wow only months later did i finally figure out what i wanted from this

srry its so short!!

#andreil #lawyer!au #htgawwm au #kinda #part 3!!!!#out of 3 probably srry #:(((#unless someone inspires me ;;)#all for the game #aftg #neil josten #andrew minyard #the foxes #boppity boo heres content for you #pls bear with me i have like 4 wips all 15k plus but i cant stay on track with anything

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bladekindeyewear · 4 years ago

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-09-15

This caught me laaaate at night gosh I’m tired but I’m gonna get it outta the way so it won’t stick in my craw! Already saw the first page, so it’s time for:

> CHAPTER 13. The Funeral

Church with chess symbols at the peaks and a Prospit/Derse or Hope/Rage split color theme on the stained glass windows.

JANE: Dearly beloved...

> (==>)

Trolls, humans, and papparazzi. Oh, hm, this church is RATHER carapacian isn’t it? Between the chess and the continuing Prospit-Derse themes, like how this corresponds to how they align in the incipisphere top-left to bottom-right if I recall:

(Minus the outlying orbs to the left and right for symmetry.)

That twisted pattern is interesting, and not quite a spirograph. Is that gonna be important later? If we’re going to get some sort of class chart later in the comic, it’d be easy for them to hint at the chart’s graphical structure subtly by dropping it places like here.

JANE: Ladies... JANE: Gentlemen... JANE: News outlets... JANE: And other valued members of the Human Nation State.

Technically true, but still odd to hear-- ...oh right, I forgot this was asshole dictator-wannabe Jane, too.

I read an interesting twitter thread recently about the intense psychological distinction between wanting to BE the best, and wanting to be TREATED like you’re the best. Epilogues/HS^2 Jane is kind of written as a case study on the pitfalls of leaning on the latter instead of the former.

> (==>)

They brought Yiffy WITH them-!? --Oh right. The hostage exchange was supposed to happen here wasn’t it.

Yiffy definitely looks like a Harley-Lalonde daughter in this shot.

JANE: Gamzee Makara, High Court Jester, exalted saint of the purple veil, has left us to traverse that grand, gay carnival in the sky, where, I am told by various members of the clownly cloth, he will spend the rest of history, honking in grand tribute to the Mirthful Messiah.

SINGULAR???

Weird. Is it because Alt!Callie “won” here?

Or is Jane just forgetting because she’s culturally used to monotheism (ironically) and is insensitive.

JANE: And my first memory of our Purple Prince, was his robust codpiece--

Wow.

> (==>)

JANE: --As he offered me his friendly support, along with the sacred blood of his brethren, the holy sacrament--

He STILL killed trolls??! (EDIT: No, a friend points out that she's talking about when she met him first in Act 6 and he tried selling bottles of troll blood to her. EDIT2: -which may be another inconsistency, since Vriska supposedly overwrote that post-retcon.)

> (==>)

It takes Jake a few seconds of puzzled eye contact before he catches exactly what it is Yiffany is tossing down. In his defense, he is distracted by his wife’s speech, which is doing the emotional equivalent of wringing him out like a wet towel, before using that towel to slap the sweaty buttocks of a large, odorous man. Even if he knows everything she’s saying is a load of horsefeathers, it does nothing for his composure to hear her heap praise on that smelly, homewrecking clown.

Bad things about Gamzee deserve to be said here, yes.

Jake wonders what she’ll say about him, at his own funeral.

Now those are some uncomfortable thoughts.

He narrows his eyes in Yiffany’s direction. She’s a lovely girl, really. He wishes he could have gotten to know her under better circumstances. He’d known she existed, of course--Jane had complained about her often enough--but they’d never had much chance to get acquainted. He rather believes her and Tavvy would have been fast friends.

Then again, perhaps it’s better that she never had much of a chance to get to know his family.

He lets go of the leash.

Yep, there’s a plan to set in motion that he’s probably already discussed with her privately. Gotta unite this four-kid team after all.

> (==>)

Wait, are you ATTACKING?!? --Of course you’re attacking. You would even if the plan was something different, wouldn’t you.

JANE: And I know that at times like these it is easy to want to give in. JANE: To throw in the towel, and turn our faces away from the light of democracy and moral fortitude that we, the citizens of the human kingdom, are blessed with from birth. JANE: God knows I’ve had my own faith tested in the last few weeks.

Jesus Christ, what has she turned the place into, a fucking theocracy?

She sounds like the leader of some screwed-up, fundamentalist country! Like the United States!

*rimshot*

JANE: As many of you know, I did not grow up with the same privileges that all of you enjoy.

Jesus.

JANE: I was born on proto-Earth, that half-finished dystopia mangled by the ravages of foolish leadership and endless war.

Jesus, she really IS a self-evident takedown of hypocritical entitled political figures. With the bonuses having Jasprose explicitly ADDRESS said entitlement to make things even clearer cut.

JANE: And as for Gamzee, well, his upbringing was even worse. JANE: He was born to a violent and uncaring home, a lonely child with few natural gifts.

...Some natural gifts and status.

> (==>)

She’s just, shaking with fury here isn’t she? And about to perform an impressive corpse-lob.

JANE: It would be simple to let this disgusting, vile, SHAMEFUL act of spiteful revenge turn us away from the blinding light of the sword of justice that hangs over us all--

This sentence seems suspicious so I’m quoting it to refer to later if I need to, but is probably just platitudes.

> (==>)

JANE: Poised

> (==>)

JANE: Trembling

Okay maybe the sword’s a dick, but what exactly is Yiffany doing?? I’m finding it difficult as usual to tell between some of these image transitions.

> (==>)

JANE: Ready to burst forth--

Bad PR to shock-collar a kid mid press junket. (Very dicks description.)

> (==>)

Click. (Did they swap the shock function with Jane’s necklace somehow, that’d be fun.)

JANE: I want to give up, at times. I understand your pain.

While shocking a kid? GREAT PR.

> (==>)

JANE: I sympathize with your pain.

Wow, those horrified audience members. She REALLY can’t even see herself anymore can she? Not even hear herself. And they’re making sure this is pointed out to EVERYONE watching. They described this as in large part a PR campaign to defeat her, didn’t they?

> (==>)

Great furious businesswoman-villain look, that art.

JANE: But when that pain! Becomes too hard! To endure! JANE: Remember poor, lifeless Gamzee! Who suffered pain far worse than any of us could ever fathom! JANE: THE PAIN OF BETRAYAL!

Click click click. This is a fun sequence.

> (==>)

DIRK: Dude, didn’t you lower the voltage on that shock collar? DIRK: Little Red isn’t looking so hot. JAKE: Yes of course i did but the damn doohickys got the kick of a donkey! JAKE: I couldnt remove it completely shed know i was the one who did it! DIRK: Well, if that supervillain cuntwaffle doesn’t stop, she’s going to kill her. Not really the best at hostage management, is she.

Decent plan. (And of course Dirk would pull out the word cunt.) When’s the cavalry coming?

> (==>)

JANE: But we cannot allow his memory to be in vain! JANE: For Gamzee Makara taught us that even the most loathsome degenerate can take their place in society. JANE: All they need is the right redemption arc - !

Trying to hammer home some of the Epilogue’s trolly-critical themes a little less bleakly, I take it.

I kind of like the violent vibration in ALL of these gifs in a row. It makes the scene seem small, slow, teeth-clenching but still full of steady action, emphasizing the importance of the relatively small events from panel to panel while giving them the sense with the animation of them being [i]drawn out[/i] and tortuous instead of just “occurring”. It feels that way to me, anyway.

> (==>)

If he got up alive here, that’d be hilarious. (Presumably he’s been treated and done-up like a normal funeral body, not “dormant” and undecaying like a dead god-tier.)

> (==>)

CORPSE PUNT w/ CLEATS

> (==>)

That face is just. I love that face.

> (==>)

SHE MAD

JANE: Young lady, I am just about at the end of my rope with you. JANE: Throw all the dog bowls you want at the walls of my warship. JANE: But don’t you dare act up in front of a JANE: Live JANE: Fucking JANE: Newsfeed! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

What did you expect to happen? Do you expect to shout her down from this, Jane?

JANE: After everything I’ve done for you--paying for your education, helping your parents cover up your existence from the world! JANE: Just imagine what Rose and Jade would say if they could see you now, even dissidents can have a little decorum! JANE: Get down from there at once! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

But this is GAMZEE. --I guess it’s seriously disrespectful to his followers, though. Still. If you wanted civility from her, a shock collar, leash, and food bowl wasn’t the way to go about it.

JANE: Don’t you threaten me, young lady. Not today! YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR

What is your PLAN even, Jane? You’ve completely disregarded her.

JANE: There’s nowhere for you to go. My agents are swarming this church. Be reasonable, Yiffany. JANE: Ugh. JANE: Disgusting name. JANE: But that’s hardly your fault. You were always just a footnote. Your parents’ little prank. JANE: Honestly, that’s why I helped them all those years ago! I do love a good jape. JANE: But let’s be serious. JANE: You don’t matter. If you did, they would have come for you already.

Can all the press hear her being such an asshole?

Okay, stereotypically, their arrival should be the next couple panels:

> (==>)

Jake, do something useful like hoping harder.

> (==>)

And she knocks the remote away. Excellent.

And she does. Seemingly at the end of her tolerance for insults toward her name, social status, and heritage, Yiffy performs an impressive backflip off the podium and down onto the church floor. One that, if it hadn’t been happening amidst a sea of other newsworthy events, would surely have ended up on someone’s instagram story within thirty seconds. She gives Gamzee’s corpse one last parting kick: a hard, proper kick that proves those cleats aren’t just for fashion. Although they are certainly also for fashion.

Good, good.

He vanishes into the seething crowd, and we are confident that we will never have to deal with this asshole ever again.

God damnit.

> (==>)

Jake watches this from a safe distance, poised on the edge of intervening to pull Yiffy out of there. But in the end he doesn’t have to. Instead he watches in admiration as she tears the place to utter shreds. An echoing sympathy swells inside of him as she rends apart the funeral flowers and punts Gamzee into the shrieking congregation. Here is a girl who felt the cold, indecent hand of fate wrapping around her, and instead of submitting to it and slowly sublimating down into morasse of boiled doormat, she slapped it away from her with a lively oh, no thank you.

All at once, Jake feels immense affection for his granddaughter. He hopes the two of them can make up for lost time.

Lessons belatedly learned, but learned nonetheless.

> (==>)

JANE: Enough of this. JANE: Seize her!

Kind of Red Queen of you. (Are those stained glass windows in back of the frame about to burst?)

> (==>)

Yep.

The stained glass window shatters inward, obliterated to stardust. The war is knocking.

Even attacking a disgusting faith’s church is pretty bad form, though.

Tired and busy, seeya next upd8. <3

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #spoiler #spoilers

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sethrine-writes · 5 years ago

Text

I Will Fight This War For You (Hold On), Ch. 5

Pairing: Connor x Female Reader

Words: 2428

Chapter Warning: Discussions of murders (pertaining to investigation),

Story Summary: “Our choices define us. Don’t let them tear you in two.”

Your investigation into the string of deaths of both humans and androids takes a drastic turn when a victim is purposely left alive. The killer’s intent is the same, to prove a point you have yet to figure out. The change, however, is the power of choice.

Stress and exhaustion lead you astray as you and Connor are both thrust into a war between the mind and the heart. You can only hope everyone involved makes it out alive.

IMPORTANT A/N: This is a repost of a DBH fic I started over a year ago in response to a challenge a friend of mine posted up, at the time. I’ve also gone through and edited/cleaned up each chapter for a better reading experience! I’ll be posting a chapter or two every day until I’ve posted all current chapters, and then I’ll be updating with a brand new chapter for the first time in nearly a year!

Inspired by the song Torn In Two by Breaking Benjamin.

------

Chapter 5 - Is This the Way It’s Gotta Be?

The DPD, unsurprisingly, was rather quiet, save for the few night officers who came and went from time to time, rotating like clockwork. Stella was rotating in, having already returned from the crime scene and taking up her designated desk to file a report. You would have greeted her, but you felt completely worn out from everything the night had thrown at you.

As it was, you were on the fast track to passing out in Connor's desk chair while waiting for him to return from wherever it was he had disappeared to, head leaning against a propped up arm and eyes fighting to stay open. Hank was pacing anxiously as he stewed in his own thoughts, and watching him move back and forth like that was making you feel dizzy, even more nauseous then what you had been for most of the night. Your stomach grumbled in agreement to your thoughts, though it was a wonder you had anything left in your system, considering what had happened earlier.

Suddenly, you were struck with an odd thought. When was the last time you had eaten, exactly?

“Your last proper meal was three days ago, unless you consider the single piece of toast you ate yesterday morning an adequate one,” Connor answered as he approached, holding items that could only have come from the break room. Your cheeks flushed slightly, realizing you had asked your question aloud, and you grimaced in slight embarrassment.

Connor seemed unfazed, however, and proceeded to give you what he was carrying, a pack of peanut butter cracker sandwiches and a cold bottle of water from the vending machines. He smiled as you took them and gently caressed your cheek with a stroke of his thumb.

“It's not much, but it'll help settle your stomach until we can get you something more substantial to eat.”

“Thanks,” you murmured without hesitation, tearing open the crackers with weak, aching fingers and downing four from the pack of six.

Connor watched you for a moment, seemingly placated that something was finally getting into your system. He waited until you needed the water, reaching out to open the tightly sealed cap before moving to stand right behind you.

He had been acting strange since returning to the station. It was sort of subtle, but the difference was still there. Connor was hovering, in a way, staying rather close to you and absentmindedly touching you whenever he could. It was welcomed, of course, and much better than the cold shoulder he had been giving you beforehand, but it was also a bit startling, especially when he was one to give you space when you were both at work.

You didn't have much to go on as to why he was acting this way, but if you were taking a wild guess in the dark, you believed it might've coincided with what he had said to you in the parking lot of the E.R. over half an hour ago.

“I love you."

Just thinking about it, how Connor had spoken those three little words with such conviction, how he had gazed at you with absolute adoration and relief, even after you had just got done fighting-

It scared you, and you didn’t know why.

“Are you alright?” Connor asked, one of his hands reaching out to rub along the back of your neck, fingers lightly digging into the tense muscles there.

A groan nearly escaped your lips, but you were able to hold it back, both grateful for the touch and slightly embarrassed at your reaction. He continued the light massage for only a moment longer before his hand was moving down and across your shoulders, touch light as he rubbed across the upper portion of your back.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, clearing your throat before continuing, “I'm good. Just trying to piece things together in my head. Where…where did we leave off?”

“Cyberlife's involvement,” Hank spoke up suddenly, pausing in his stride to cross both arms over his chest as he looked to you and Connor, “are we ruling them out, or what?”

Hank had eyeballed Connor's closeness as well as the soothing touch he was still applying against your back; you could see the Lieutenant’s eyes flicker to the movement before looking between the both of you, almost as if he wanted to say something.

Strangely enough, he didn’t say anything at all, no teasing remarks or snippy, playful comments about PDA in the work space. Hank's favorite passive response usually involved reminding you just what Connor licked up at a crime scene whenever the android made to kiss your cheek, and yet, even with an ample opportunity, he hadn’t so much as hinted at the affectionate closeness.

He seemed much more worried about the new details involving the investigation, at the moment. You understood. The whole thing had suddenly been thrust into a whole other ball park, and the curve balls just kept coming.

“Not completely,” Connor answered as his hand made its way into your hair, the sensation of fingers lightly grazing your scalp causing your eyes to flutter closed. “With the new android laws being set into finality later this week, it’s a possibility Cyberlife could be trying to sabotage the proceedings in some way.”

“Delaying the inevitable,” Hank scoffed with a shake of his head. “They just don’t know when to give up, do they?”

“While it is a possibility, Lieutenant, the likelihood of their involvement is rather low."

“How can we explain the prime suspect being your model type, then? You think they created another one of you without all the free-will?”

“No, I don’t believe so,” Connor began slowly, brows furrowing in contemplation even as he continued to carefully run fingers through your hair. You were relaxed and pliant under his touch, so much so that you were barely keeping up with the conversation, having to really focus on your partners' words.

“They’re restricted in what they can create, at the moment,” Connor continued. “Assembling another android is out of the question, but it’s possible there are still inactive androids we haven’t yet freed.”

“More androids, huh? Speaking of, just how many of you were running around, anyway?” Hank asked curiously. His gaze flickered to you briefly, eyes softening at your relaxed features.

“Considering I was their latest prototype, Cyberlife kept me strictly within the Detroit area to test my capabilities. It wouldn’t be wise to have multiple RK800 models running amok, should there have been complications with any of my programming.”

“Mm, wait...wait, didn’t they keep several RK800 androids on-sight and inactive?” you asked, words mumbled as you fought to open your eyes and sit up a bit straighter in the chair. “Like you said, it wouldn’t do to have an army of Connors running around, but they surely had replacements, if you happened to be injured beyond repair.”

“This is true,” Connor answered as he looked down at you, “though there was only ever one available replacement at a time. Again, because I was a prototype, they couldn’t risk creating too many models at once.”

“So there were only ever two functioning RK800 models in the world, at once,” you continued to mumble. “You think they still had one over at Cyberlife HQ?”

“I don’t think so,” Hank interjected. “That night the androids won their freedom, I had a fake Connor use me as leverage against our Connor. Probably Cyberlife's last-ditch effort to stop the revolution. Long story short, he didn’t make it out of that tower.”

“He would have also been the last of my model,” Connor started up again, “as Cyberlife wouldn’t have had time to compose another, not with the outcome of the revolution in favor of androids. And with their every move being watched, compromising any remaining integrity would be out of the question.”

So far, everything was making perfect sense. Cyberlife had the means to pull off something like this, but it would risk any further relationship with the public as well as possible development for future projects, whatever they may be. With society mostly in favor of androids as people, too, doing anything to negate the peace would end badly, on their side.

The issue, then, didn’t lie with who was behind the operation, but more on how.

How had the RK800 model been activated? How was it possible when all evidence was pointing to Connor being the last of his unit?

Connor as a suspect would seem like a logical assumption, one that would usually warrant a further look into, but you and Hank already knew it wasn’t possible, not even a probability. Connor was always with either one of you, and timestamps and sound alibis could prove his innocence completely.

Another thought struck you, one that had you sitting up a bit straighter as you mulled over the likelihood of it.

“Is it possible one of the damaged models somehow came back to life?”

Connor looked at you in mild surprise, the motion of his hand in your hair pausing as he thought it over.

“Extremely unlikely, but, statistically speaking, it’s a possibility. Markus is a prime example of defying the odds, in such a way. We…may have to look into it.”

“Great,” Hank bemoaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “that's fan-fucking-tastic, just what we needed! A rogue Connor on the streets, back from the dead and, apparently, pissed off about it.”

And that was quite the horrifying thought to dwell on. Connor was an advanced prototype; he was fast, strong, more advanced than the androids meant for police work, and equipped to take on the challenges of a detective and officer with relative ease and adaptability. He was a force to be reckoned with, and to have such a force on the side of criminal intent only made things much more dangerous, even more difficult.

Still, there were more questions that hadn’t been answered yet, ones that would most likely be the driving force into finding out how to catch the rogue android.

Why was this RK800 model kidnapping, killing, and forcing others to kill? What motivated him into doing all these things? Why humans and androids, and not one or the other?

There was also the matter of whether or not the RK800 model was deviant or not. From the evidence so far, it would seem that he was, in fact, attacking of his own free will. While everything seemed meticulously thought out for each case, it was clear to see that there was a variable change in the RK800 model's tactics. His intent had stayed the same, as he seemed to want to prove a point. What changed was the power of choice, giving a single victim a chance to choose one life over another.

But, why?

The first two cases were cut and dry. One android, tied to a chair with a gunshot to the head, and one human, dead by the same means and sprawled out on the floor. It would’ve almost looked like a murder-suicide, as only the human's fingerprints were pulled from the empty gun, yet the evidence concluded that the human victim had been shot through the back of the head at an angle that suggested a third person had to have pulled the trigger. It was all the evidence needed to hint toward a double homicide, instead.

On top of that, it was concluded that the human victim was forced into shooting the android victim by means of torture. The right arm was a vast web of dark blue veins, almost like ink, trailing up the limb as if to show the trail the poison took when it was injected into the wrist.

Case number three showed the first use of the power of choice, as well as the same method of torture by means of blue blood injection, most likely to push them into making a decision between the two other victims. Anthony had survived, merely because the power of choice had shifted, and a false sense of control had been given to Winny, who had become a nuisance in the eyes of the suspected android. Lauren would have survived, most likely, had she not tried to attack the RK800 model behind her kidnapping.

The most recent case yet again gave the tortured victim the power of choice. While you didn’t have all that much information, seeing as how things had escalated between you and Gavin on the scene and you were forced away, it wasn’t too hard to guess what had happened, going by the other cases. The woman had made the choice to shoot one of the other victims, somehow managed to do so in her heavily poisoned state, and both she and the android had been freed and spared.

Choice had become an important factor, but as to why, it was still unclear. Maybe it was the RK800 model lamenting his choices and making others enact them. Perhaps it was simply as easy as saying he found some twisted joy in it after finding his first two tests fruitless in entertainment.

Whatever the reason, it was clear that he was now targeting groups of three persons that knew each other in some way, one of which was an android. He had to know their routines in order to kidnap his victims without complication, meaning he must have been watching them for-

“Detective, please, be careful... He's…he's watching."

You nearly fell out of your chair from sitting up so quickly, eyes wide as the words Anthony had uttered to you played in your head on a loop.

He's watching.

Anthony had given you the warning, and you hadn’t even realized he had been talking directly to you.

“Hey, kid, take it easy!”

You looked up at Hank, who had moved just a bit closer, his expression one of worried confusion at your sudden movement. Connor was faring no better, having shifted to put you in his direct line of sight, panicked brown eyes zipping over your body. He was no doubt analyzing you at that very moment, becoming aware that your heart had picked up speed and that you were showing extreme signs of stress.

God, how could you have been so stupid?!

“I can’t work this case,” you whispered, words barely leaving your lips as the clarifying thought reached you.

“What's wrong?” Connor urged again, reaching out to touch your arm. You looked at him, eyes wide with uncertain fear.

“I…I need to talk to Fowler,” you stuttered, swallowing thickly. “I can’t work this case, anymore.”

#detroit become human #dbh #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #dbh hank #reader #reader-insert #torn in two

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ferallymine · 5 years ago

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Worldbreaker Pt. 1

The rubble. The screams. The frantic hands digging through the mess above her buried broken lifeless body. The last stone moving away- seeing the white light shine onto her. A hand reaching out-

Mardea shot up, sweat covering her body. Reaching out to see the alarm clock, she had to bite down a yelp of pain.

“Not…again…” Her voice was tired and straining. Black Energy had marked her arms in the night, leaving burns on her skin and the sheets.

She stumbled into her bathroom, slamming the cold water handle on to fill the tub. Her feet sizzled on the chilled ivory tile, heat coming off her body in waves. She shouldn’t be this hot with just panties and a loose cotton tank top on, but this is one of many burdens of being Mardea Lin.

The water stung her tender burnt skin. Steam hissed from her body, distracting her from wanting to scream. Mardea hadn’t been severely burned by fire, but she imagined they were just as bad as her energy burns. Izzy’s the only one she ever felt the need to explain the difference to. His curiosity was always humorous to her.

The fact that the water was ice cold made the next part easier. Keeping thoughts in her mind to ground her to reality, Mardea submerged herself completely in the tub.

Green wisps flowed out from her palms. Interacting with the water, they went to work cooling her down and resolving her burns. A waterlogged scream escaped her throat, the sensory overload and pain being overwhelming. The burnt skin ripped itself off, attaching to the energy swirling around it. New unblemished skin replaced it quickly- unnatural if one didn’t have a medic-related quirk.

It felt like hours, but Mardea was done in minutes. The water was grey and heavily clouded when she sat back up, now shivering from the cold. Her stomach churned, and without a moment to react, she vomited into the already dirty water.

“…fuck…” her voice was a quaky whisper. She couldn’t keep going on like this.

The push and pull of energy forces from within herself danced with the outside ones. It was as if something out there wanted her to lose control, wanted Code Black to become the new normal.

The water-vomit mixture spiraled down the drain. Mardea waited until the tub was empty before fighting for strength to rinse herself off with the shower.

Morning couldn’t come soon enough.

-----

“But consider the reverse!” Kaminari shoved a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, “If you had a human head and a bird body, all the villains would be too scared to fight and you could round ‘em up easy!”

“Easily,” Tokoyami corrected, pulling his hoodie as he stood up to leave, “And that is utterly ridiculous.”

Sero set his coffee down, “Does that mean if Hawks was reversed he’d have a bird body and human arms on his back?!”

“Holy. Shit. Dude.” Kaminari looked like he had an epiphany, “That would be…terrifying. I love it.”

Ashido slammed her hands flat on the table, “KIRI WOULD BE A ROCK THAT TURNS INTO A BALL OF FLESH!”

“Noooooo,” Kirishima groaned, leaning back with his hands on his face, “I was already a ball of flesh in the hero test! Unpleasant, 0 out of 10 do not recommend.”

Sero giggled, “Guys, guys listen… Bakugo… Is an explosion that throws out humans.”

An eruption of laughter consumed the living room of the dorms. The noise echoed into the hallway leading to the stairs.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kirishima wiped a tear from his eye, “Does, ehehehe, does that mean that mean that he’s a continuous explosion or like, hah, one out of every 5 explosions is Bakugo randomly spurting out humans to attack villains.”

The laughter quieted, giving the group time to think, then Ashido spoke, “Can you imagine if the latter was true? Like, if you’re a villain using C4 to break into a bank then suddenly ‘I AM A VERY ANGRY EXPLOSION HAVE SOME HUMANS TO THE FACE!’ Bruh, I’d shit my pants.”

“What about the former?” A sudden appearance of Lin behind Kaminari made him jump and spill his cereal. “If he’s a continuous explosion he’d have to be put in a container to function as a ‘human’ in society. Imagine shoving Boom-boy into a reinforced Smucker’s jam jar.”

The laughter resumed. Kirishima looked up to ask Lin a question, “Hey, what if- wait. Lin you’re glowing.”

A brief panic, “Wh- no I’m not.” She looked herself over, “I’m not outputting any en-“

“No! Your skin is radiant,” A cheeky smile, “Did you do a new skincare routine from YouTube?”

A pause, “…Yes…that’s what I did.”

Ashido’s eyes sparkled, “DEAAAAAA you gotta show me!”

“Maybe later, after you bring your grade to a B.” She winked, “Anyway, I’m hungry, see ya later.” Lin meandered over to the kitchen, where Uraraka was making what smelled like waffles.

“… aaaand voila!” Uraraka flailed her arms in a dramatic manner, “A Together Breakfast!” The platter was filled with waffles topped with syrup, whipped cream, popcorn, and strawberries.

“Wow!” Midoriya’s stomach rumbled, “This looks great! Thank you!”

She giggled, “I made enough for everyone so dig in!” She gestured to those surrounding the counter. “Let our Saturday breakfast tradition begin!”

Lin leaned on Todoroki’s shoulder, the sudden contact startling him, “It’s just me, don’t worry.”

“Hello, love,” He tilted his head to lean on hers, “Sleepy?”

“Sore…”

“Training yesterday was that rough?”

“…Yes.” She straightened. Her silent body language purposely telling him that she didn’t wanna talk about it in front of the others. “My whole body feels vulnerable and tender. Like one touch will bruise for days.”

“Take it easy today, then,” He smiled, “Eat something to regain your strength.” A soft kiss to her head, reminding her that they can talk privately later.

“Hey Frick and Frack, save the PDA for when we’re not eating,” Bakugo sat on the counter, munching on toast with tomato and cheese slices on top. “You’re gonna make me puke.”

“Your taste in breakfast food will make me puke,” Midoriya stuck out his tongue.

“Says fucking you. Who eats shitty popcorn for breakfast?”

“It’s not popcorn, it’s pepcorn!” Uraraka tossed a kernel at the blonde, “Popcorn with a pep!”

Bakugo scowled, staring the group down. He swiped the kernel away from him, “You’re not original, this is all from YouTube.”

“Stop being such a fucking killjoy,” Jirou slammed her glass of juice down on the counter. “We get it, your aesthetic is to hate everything and think you’re the best. Don’t you get tired of having your head so far up your own ass? Huh?”

“I’m done,” Lin backed away and turned towards the hallway. “It’s too early for arguing.”

Yaoyorozu stood up, “Mardea, don’t go! We were gonna go out today! The Saturday Flea Market is up in the plaza across town!”

Fuck I forgot “Yeah, right…. Lemme put on proper ‘going out’ clothes.” A snap and she was gone in a green flash.

------

“Isn’t this fun! Nice to stretch our legs on a sunny day off.” Momo did a little spin, flowing out the bottom of her sunflower sundress.

Tsuyu joined the twirling, though her green romper left little to flow out. “Ribbit, it’s the perfect temperature today. I bet the pools will be packed.”

“Whaddaya think, ‘Dea?” Mina, clad in her pastel blue crop top and matching shorts, “Should we try swimming today or just mingle in the market?”

Mardea thought a moment, “Market wandering sounds good for now. Plus I didn’t bring a swimsuit- I doubt jean overalls would fair well in a pool.”

“Hmm, fair point.” Mina skipped ahead, stopping at a sunglasses stall. The sun reflected off them, making the products glitter and look more enticing.

Mardea glanced around the crowd. Mina was at that stall, whereas Tsuyu and Momo had been lost to the growing population of the market. The tips of her hair shifted to magenta. Her eyes scanned the scenery. Where were their energy signatures?

“Nice trick,” Mardea froze at the unfamiliar voice behind her, magenta instantly switching to lilac, “Color shifting is good for quick blending into crowds, though I feel that this little cosmetic show is a front for your quirk.”

It was a feminine sounding voice- maybe an older woman who smoked on occasion?

“I can feel your thoughts from back here, pumpkin.” A warm hand gripped her right shoulder, “You don’t have to turn around, I know who you are, Mardea. Don’t you think it’s strange that I snuck up on you with your magenta setting on?”

The lilac grew.

“You don’t need to be afraid. I want to help you. There’s a lot of energy in this world, you know. How would it be to not feel like it’ll crush you at any moment? What if you could control it? Not your definition of control- you still let that Code Black sit alone, festering. What if you could harness it?”

“Hey ‘Dea?” Mina’s voice called out, “We got lunch! Where ya at?”

“I will find you again,” The hand left, “Be wary, Mardea. You’re not the only one who knows energy.”

Momo came through the people, “Guys! She’s over here!” She turned, smiling, “Where have you- oh my god are you okay? You’re purple-y.”

Mardea looked up, eyes matching her hair, “We need to leave. Now.”

“Okay yeah. Yeah.” Momo took her twin’s hand, “You’re okay now. We’re here.” Mina and Tsuyu emerged, confused at the color shift. Momo pointed at them, “We’re leaving. Now. Back to UA.”

-----

“You’re sure it was a woman?” Aizawa sat across from Lin in his office.

Lin shrugged, “That what she sounded like. She snuck up on me, didn’t let me turn around.” She pulled her shirt collar over to expose her shoulder, “She bruised me when she grabbed me.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, “How did she do that?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Lin’s stress boiled over, red and lilac strands forming in her hair, “I don’t know who she is all I know is I didn’t sense her and she said I wasn’t the only one who knew energy and that she’s gonna find me again and I don’t know how to not let that happen because if I cant find her then no one can find her probably like how-” A gasp of air, hair returning to normal, as Aizawa grabbed her shoulders, kneeling in front of her.

“You need to calm down.” His voice was calm. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m not going to tell you to not worry, because I know you will anyway. All the teachers will be on the lookout for suspicious women around campus. I’ll let the Pro-Heroes know that this happened and see if they can snoop out anything. Okay?”

“Okay…” She leaned forward, hugging him with tears in her eyes, “Thank you…”

A smile, “It’s okay.”

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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Oh for fucking fuck’s sake.

Does NOBODY bother looking into WHY some things are considered taboo and inherently harmful and toxic, before just deciding “well *I* can’t think of any good reason to be against this, so obvsly there isn’t one”?

Reproductive concerns have absolutely fuck-all to do with why incest is considered toxic in modern societies, including incest between non-biologically related family members, like those via marriage or adoption. Which for the record, is not PSEUDO-incest, because there’s no such fucking thing, Ao3, incest is just incest, flat out. You’re either family or you’re not. The ‘why’ and ‘how’ of you being family is utterly irrelevant.

Like, incest is considered taboo because at our core, humans are social creatures. This is true even of the most introverted and reclusive members of our society. You can be that dude from My Side of the Mountain who fucked off to go live in the trees because algebra was hard or something, idek, and it would STILL be true, because the ONLY reason we have advanced so far as a species, is because of our species’ innate tendency to seek out and form bonds OUTSIDE of our immediate family group in order to thrive and perpetuate. Total agoraphobes who never leave the house are only able to do so because of the way our society has advanced - through the creation of more and more outspread bonds - to ALLOW for someone to survive solely ‘on their own,’ with the means and ability to access any resource or skillset they don’t have themselves via the internet, or delivery services, etc.

Leaving aside the power dynamics inherent in EVERY family setting (which, I mean, you can’t, like you literally just fucking can’t, there is no ‘opt out’ function that lets you magically pretend that even TWINS don’t have power dynamics based on how they each relate to other members of their family, who gets along with their parents better, who tends to be considered the more responsible one, which tends to be blamed first whenever both get in trouble for the same thing, like....power dynamics exist within every family unit, this is inarguable, its not up for debate, its literally just not, buuuuuuuuuuuuut hey, let’s play make believe, and even IF we leave aside those for a second....)

So playing make believe and acting like every one in every family is on equal footing at all times in every which way, and no single person ever has more pull, more influence, more credibility, more responsibility over other members of their family.....incest is STILL inherently toxic, because it is the one and ONLY form of constructing relationship bonds in which those bonds are not formed by reaching OUT to other family groups and building bridges, extensions, links beyond just your immediate family group.....but rather, incest relies ONE HUNDRED PERCENT, on CANNIBALIZING existing relationship bonds.

And that absolutely, categorically, CAN NOT EVER ADD something to a person’s support structure, emotional tethers, or access to resources, etc.....it can ONLY consume what is ALREADY THERE.

And even more significantly, it almost inevitably co-opts EVERY OTHER family bond within the family group, as everyone’s ties to both members of the incest pair are thus forcibly altered to ‘theoretically’ prioritize those twos’ RELATIONSHIP bond as being more important than every other family member’s INDIVIDUAL bonds with each of those two.

You know how sometimes people joke/don’t really joke about how friends within really tight, closeknit groups of friends, who date each other, like, this is sometimes referred to as being ‘kind of incestuous’? Yeah, there’s a reason that turn of phrase came about. Consider what happens when two friends start dating, and then one like...let’s say for example one fucks up, gets drunk and cheats on the other one. It doesn’t make that person the most evil person alive and like, absolutely they should be cast aside by everyone who they’ve ever known, including their family, but it IS a big fucking deal, and its the kind of thing that absolutely and with validity, ends relationships. But in this case, both people in the relationship are equally close friends with EVERY other member of their close immediate friend group. Meaning no matter how much the others would like to ‘stay out of it’ and let them resolve it between themselves, they can’t. They’re too closely tied. If the two break up and the one that was cheated on never wants to see the other one again, which they have every right to, well, their friends are all affected by the fact that well, they literally have to pick sides, they have to figure out if its even POSSIBLE to still be friends with both, if even trying to is a betrayal of the friend who was cheated on, how can they justify ever asking both friends to be around them at the same time, etc.

Now, this is a tough situation all around, but its not actually incest, because at the end of the day, as complicated as it may be....they’re not family. They’re a friend group comprised of bonds each individual in the group formed OUTSIDE of their immediate family (whether that family is biological or a family of choice is irrelevant....all that matters is that in this particular scenario, all those involved have another more intimate, CORE group of ‘family’ bonds to retreat to for comfort or support should the worst happen and they lose their ties with the rest of their friend group, as a result of fallout from the failed relationship).

But pull things back to that core family group, no matter whether the bonds within it are all biological, a mix of biological and adopted, or all family-of-choice type bonds....the bottom line being this is the group that is a particular person’s last defense, most fundamental support system, the foundation all their other ties are built upon.....when you’re talking about THIS family unit.....there’s no ‘kind of incestuous’ or ‘pseudo-incest’ about it. Its just flat out incest, because ANY romantic or sexual relationship that forms between ANY two members of this family unit INEVITABLY entangle EVERY OTHER MEMBER OF THAT UNIT. There is no escaping it. One of THESE two cheats on the other, as an example? What the fuck are the rest supposed to do? Oh sorry, you can’t be our brother anymore because it would be too unfair of us to expect our other brother to sit through Christmas dinner with you, his ex? Sorry, parents of this family unit, in order to support your one child you must treat your other child the same way any other parent of a jilted or cheated upon child would treat their ex?

Not to mention, hey, lol, I know you totally raised these kids as siblings their entire lives and view them in that light, but now that for some reason they’ve decided they’d rather be lovers instead, good luck trying to reconcile how the fuck you’re supposed to navigate that emotional minefield of them-as-your-individual-children and them-as-your-children’s-mutual-relationship, lolol but hey, there’s absolutely nothing selfish or potentially harmful-to-the-overall-family about forcing that paradigm shift on everyone you’re related to, whatsoever.

Then there’s the little matter of, hmm, how does this relationship even come about in the first place, given how taboo incest is in our society, if NEITHER of the two in question ACTUALLY have any more power or influence over the other in the first place? So, say its two siblings of relatively the same age and ‘position’ within the family structure.....so it just so happened that by most fortunate coincidence, BOTH siblings just up and decided AT THE SAME TIME, hey, I know society frowns upon this, but I’m just super hot for my sib, and I just gotta act upon it? LOL, really? There wasn’t actually any power imbalance in play, with one sibling who has the tendency to take the lead in situations throughout their childhood, being the one to instigate this? Is the rest of the family going to see it the same way? How about friends of the family? Nobody’s going to look at these two and assume, based on that family’s history or everybody’s mutual history with these two, separately and together, that one of the two had more to do with ‘convincing’ the other that this relationship was a good idea? And this assumption, right or wrong, isn’t going to potentially negatively impact all those peoples’ relationships with both siblings? And what if that assumption is correct? Isn’t that a problem with the relationship itself? And so on and so on and so on.

And ALL of these are just tips of the iceberg. The complexities of the fallout from an incestuous relationship are as infinite as the complexity of ANY family unit’s intricate interpersonal dynamics.

And meanwhile, the one truth that remains at the heart of all of this is there is one thing that NO incestuous relationship can EVER bring to a family unit, individuals within a family unit, or even just the two individuals in the relationship itself......

And that is something, ANYTHING, new.

Incestuous relationships, by their very nature, CAN NOT CREATE.

They can ONLY consume.

THAT is why they’re considered toxic.

And, y’know. Also the inevitable power dynamics innate to every family and individual members within a family group.

Since, y’know, this isn’t magical make believe and its not actually possible to pretend that power dynamics within existing family structures don’t exist and SUPER MEGA FOR SURE impact how family members relate to each other.

But whatever.

#incest cw

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elo-kuvat · 5 years ago

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Fleabag (2016-) and the ‘likability’ of women

What I love about Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag is its portrayal of an awful, garbage human being who is just trying to get through the day.

The concept of a ‘likable’ character is a highly contested one. Watching a film or show, the audience needs to root for their protagonist which tends to lead to the idea that the protagonist needs to be ‘likable’ and ‘relatable.’ This makes sense because no one wants to root for someone they dislike.

This being said, in the past we have seen hugely successful films and shows kill box offices with just completely unlikable characters. Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver, Tony Soprano in The Sopranos, even Ross in Friends.

Possibly the best example of recent years is the critically acclaimed drama series: Breaking Bad. The protagonist of the show, Walter White, descends with the show’s progression into a self centered, morally corrupt and generally unlikable person. And yet the worse he becomes, he still managed to get the show renewed for a good five seasons.

It seems like the concept of likability and being relatable are loosely applied when it comes to male characters, but can be detrimental to female characters.

This summer I attended the LES Film Festival’s “Crafting the Female Protagonist” with a panel of amazing female writers, directors and filmmakers. One of the difficulties that Radha Blank (Empire, She’s Gotta Have It) discussed facing as a female writer of color in the industry was that her experience and creativity was often restricted by this idea of being relatable. She found that her projects and ideas were consistently being shot down because execs feared they would not be relatable. One can imagine pitching a film or show to a group of white male execs who see the divide between male and female or white and black as detrimental, especially when it comes to the box office.

They don’t feel the need to relate to the experience of a woman or a person of color as they don’t see them or their experiences as universal, at least not the way in which being white and male is considered universal. This is where we see the problematic effect of placing the characteristics of white, male and straight as the status quo. The story of a white straight man is not universal, however to the white straight male (who wields great power in society and Hollywood) it is assumed that his story is universal because he has been set up as the status quo.

That being said, as a female in my twenties I don’t find it disorienting trying to relate to a man with cancer in his sixties or even to his drug addict partner in crime. Similarly, I didn’t find it difficult to relate to an indigenous domestic worker in 1970s Mexico in Alfonso Cuarón’s Roma.

Relatability does not arise from having experienced the exact same story, life or struggle, but from basic human emotions and needs. Walter White is afraid of death and leaving his loved ones, he is also ashamed that he has failed in his career and is bored with the banality of everyday life. All of which fuels his greed to conquer the meth business world. This is how we relate to Walter, not because his status as a white American man makes him universal.

Likability is something women have to deal with off screen as well as on. When women present themselves to the world they are told they must be sweet, pretty and accommodating to the needs of the men around us. We can see this from the way men expect women to smile when they walk down the street or to the way in which women are harassed for not looking ‘womanly’ enough or to a myriad of other awful examples. Women are expected to act ‘nice’ and be likable to the male population. So one can imagine how difficult it would be to green light a (multi million dollar) show which portrays a real and ‘unlikable’ woman when it is already hard enough just to walk down the street as an ‘unlikable’ woman.

This is what makes Fleabag so special. The protagonist, who is only identified as Fleabag, is a deeply flawed human who is dealing with her mess of a family and the traumatic death of her best and only friend. Throughout the two hilarious and heart-breaking seasons of the show, she manages to do some quite horrendous things that begs the audience to dislike her, however, we also see her struggle with shame, humility and caring deeply for the people in her life.

The show uses a fourth wall breaking technique so that Fleabag can speak directly to the audience. While this technique has lost its effect in the past decade and become a bit of a cop out, here it has been revitalized as something new and beautiful. It is used as a special connection only the audience and Fleabag share within this dark world. Almost like a secret language between best friends.

This wall breaking not only makes us easily sympathize with our protagonist, but also adds to this idea of imperfection. We see the way in which she prides herself on predicting how the people around her will act, but we also see her surprise when she is wrong and the other characters act unpredictably.

Additionally, like any good wall breaking, we see her lie to the audience as well as to herself. This is common in wall breaking and generally through character action and development because it creates a rich and complicated tapestry in which the character functions and grows.

Fleabag uses sex as a distraction, saying herself that “I spent most of my adult life using sex to deflect from the screaming void inside my empty heart.” She even admits that it isn’t the physical act of sex that she is interested in, instead stating:

“I'm not obsessed with sex, I just can't stop thinking about it. The performance of it. The awkwardness of it. The drama of it. The moment you realize someone wants your body. Not so much the feeling of it.”

Her sexual expression and outright statement of her enjoyment with it, technically speaking, makes her unlikable. Doing so is still quite taboo for a woman and is often received with great criticism and shaming. We do see throughout the show how people react to Fleabag’s nonchalant sexuality and how they make assumptions about her, but ultimately it is an aspect of the character that is embraced.

Additionally, we see Fleabag struggle quite generally with facing issues, usually choosing instead to avoid or seek out a welcomed distraction. However, compared to the rest of the people in her life she is considered the black sheep who pops everyone else’s bubble of denial.

Her father, sister and godmother all try to passive aggressively talk around their issues or generally act be two faced. In this way, Fleabag sees through them and calls them out. This usually causes great backlash and places Fleabag as the ‘bad guy’ in the situation since no one wants to deal with their real issues.

The show brings up an interesting concept of being a bad feminist as well as a bad person. Fleabag is highly critical of herself, feeling shame and guilt with herself saying things such as:

“I have a horrible feeling that I'm a greedy perverted, selfish, apathetic, cynical, depraved, morally bankrupt woman who can't even call herself a feminist.”

Often when Hollywood wants to portray a feminist character in a ‘feminist’ show we depict them as perfect role models to look up to. However, those characters are often represent extremely simplified feminism as well as make for very bland characters. We don’t learn from just seeing an ideal feminist, instead we learn from passively watching a character trying and failing to be a feminist.

Because that is what feminism is at its core, looking inward and being self critical as well as making mistakes and learning from them. Additionally, isn’t a perfect feminist, as well as a perfect person, just someone who makes the effort and fails a thousand times, but still gets up to try again.

Ultimately, watching Fleabag struggle with herself and her seriously dysfunctional family is a breath of fresh air. Audiences can relate to dysfunction since we all feel our lives in someways and to some degree are dysfunctional. Seeing someone on screen struggling similarly or a hundred times worse than us, reminds us we are not alone. We also see a character facing great adversity and conflict and choosing everyday to keep fighting.

Surprisingly, no one is perfect and therefor watching other imperfect characters is always relatable, even if the protagonist is a woman.

Fleabag’s success will hopefully be used as an example to point to when trying to push for not only more female led shows and films but also to push for more ‘unlikable’ female characters.

I will leave you with possibly the two best quote from Fleabag:

“Women are born with pain built in. It’s our physical destiny. Period pains, sore boobs, childbirth, you know. We carry it within ourselves. Men don’t. They have to seek it out... And then they create wars, so they can feel things and touch each other, and when there aren’t any wars they can play rugby. And we have it all going on in here, inside.”

“Love is awful. It’s painful. Frightening. It makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself, distance yourself from the other people in your life. Makes you selfish, makes you creepy, makes you obsessed with your hair. It takes strength to know what’s right. And love isn’t something that weak people do. Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope.”

Further reading:

How ‘Fleabag’ Seduces Us, Then Accuses Us - The New York Times

Season 2 of “Fleabag” Is All about Fessing Up - Bitch Media

Men Invented 'Likability.' Guess Who Benefits - The New York Times

Bad Feminist - Roxane Gay

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kaimiiru-creations · 6 years ago

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Title: Bird Yellow ch3

Ch1: https://kaimiiru-creations.tumblr.com/post/174267595648/title-bird-yellow-ch1-ch2-in-progress-premise

Ch2: https://kaimiiru-creations.tumblr.com/post/174344527703/title-bird-yellow-ch2-ch1

Next chapter: not done yet

Premise: Arthur’s low opinion of humanity conflicts with bird club’s viewpoint.

Characters: Eishi, Arthur, Takayama, Umino, Rei, Kamoda, Marilyn, Naoyuki, Adam

Time taken: about three days

A/N: I had a vague idea about where this was going, but these characters haven’t failed to surprise me yet!

Code:

“Blah” Normal

“Blah” Normal Tweet/ Silentwing

“Blah” Loud Tweet/ Silentwing

“>Blah<” Death Tweet/ Bellwether

---

“Hey, why are we calling each other by our colors?” Arthur spoke up. He was drifting around, trying to find a good spot in the Bird Club’s natural v-shaped formation.

“That’s our codenames. Our human and bird club lives are different!” Kamoda replied.

“Oh! Oh yeah, who’s this ‘advisor’ you were talking about earlier today, Red?” Arthur asked.

“He’s a human.” Takayama said.

“Huh?!”

Detailed as ever, Takayama. Eishi thought dully. He felt his phone ring and answered it.

“Hi, Eishi. Are you all in the air?” Naoyuki asked.

“Yeah, I’m looking for your signal now, old man.” Eishi said. He felt Arthur fly up next to him, listening in no doubt with a frown on his face. Eishi ignored him, searching the ground for a flashing light.

“Over there!” Kamoda dived to speed up below Eishi and pointed.

“Confirmed signal. Beginning descent.” Eishi tucked his wings in and dived down to a house in a speedy fashion. Unused to their formation, Arthur fell behind and was the last to land on a large porch. Naoyuki was there, turning off his flashlight and waving them inside a dark room.

“Where is this? Is it safe?” Eishi pressed, keeping his mask on.

“We’ll talk inside.” Naoyuki said. Eishi nodded and followed him closely into the house, the others squeezing in behind him with their wings wrapped around them. “Ok, you can turn on the light now.”

The light flashed on, revealing Marilyn and a man in a room filled with costumes, masks, and hats.

“Iiiit’s Marilyn’s room!” Marilyn announced.

“Wahh, that scarf is so cute!” Umino squealed, pointing to the fox scarf that the man was wearing.

“Huh? Who is that?” Eishi asked, staring at the man.

“Is that a Russian?” Kamoda whispered.

“It’s Mr. Smith.” Rei replied.

“Wait,” Marilyn stared at Arthur, who stared at them as if they were oddly shaped aliens, “Are you…”

“The american birdman!” Mr. Smith said, blinking wide-eyed as he took off his hat, “You’re alive?!”

“HEY NAOYUKI?! WHY DID YOU BRING HIM HERE?! Are you trying to se-” Eishi panicked as the information of a ‘stranger’ being here sunk in.

Naoyuki wrestled Eishi to keep his hand over his mouth,“Shhh! Calm down! The neighbors can still hear you!”

“Can someone please translate for me???” Arthur cried.

“Kamoda, do you mind doing it? Gotta concentrate.” Rei asked.

“No prob!” Kamoda translated for Arthur. Arthur, quite suddenly, gave Mr. Smith an intense glare. He shouted something in english, fast enough that none of the bird club understood, but when they heard ‘Eden’ all eyes were fixed on Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith smiled as if resigned. Naoyuki stood in between Arthur and Mr. Smith, sensing Arthur was about to become violent.

“Please, let us explain.” Naoyuki pleaded with a panicked look on his face. Umino was the one who tugged Arthur back.

“Let me handle this, Phoenix.” Eishi said, and although Arthur let out a angry huff he stayed back.

“This is your case officer from Eden.” Naoyuki began. Eishi felt a bristling distaste, bordering on hatred, rise up in him.

“Helllooo, I’m Adam Fox, a former employee of Eden.” Mr. Smith, erm, Adam said.

“Johnathan Smith is an alias, then.” Rei said coldly. Johnath- ADAM tilted his head as if considering that.

“Johnathan is what my friends call me. My real name is Adam.” Adam replied with a smile.

“Adam... I’ve heard that name before. They’re clones.” Arthur spoke, crossing his arms, “I’ve seen them in the farms. They don’t live very long.”

“Phoenix informed me that you’re a clone that doesn’t have long to live.” Eishi spoke out loud.

“And he’s right.” Adam confirmed, “That spares that explanation.”

“Are you the one who shot Kamoda?” Eishi coldly asked.

“I ordered it.” Adam confirmed again without missing a beat. And Eishi felt his power creeping up, about ready to consume the danger in front of him.

“He shot Green?!” Arthur growled after Kamoda uneasily translated. Eishi could suddenly feel Arthur’s aura goading his forward so they could-

“Wait. No violence.” Naoyuki said hurriedly, putting an arm in front of Eishi. Eishi glared at him as he inwardly wrestled with his last few shreds of common sense, “In a way, he’s your ally. He knows Eden’s inner workings… Let’s talk first.” He said cautiously.

“I thought you said he was our enemy.” Eishi said such in a forced calm that nearly had the man pull away from him. The moment he snapped, so would the rest of the Bird Club, especially with Arthur practically boiling behind him.

“Please!” Naoyuki pleaded with him, definitely terrified now.

“Sorry,” Adam said, “I know a lot has happened, but I’m not as strong as you guys. It would be a problem if you beat me up until I could no longer move.” He met Eishi’s gaze, “I can receive… your ill wishes.”

“Die.” Eishi hissed.

“Soon…” Adam said.

There was a moment of tense silence, before Eishi stepped forward and sat at the table.

The meeting continued relatively smoothly after that. Everyone was encouraged to borrow some costumes; Rei immediately put on a crown and an egyptian looking necklace, Kamoda put on a panda hat, and Umino had a tribal-looking cat mask on. Arthur put on a ridiculous-looking santa hat that had a cone-shaped spring with a cotton ball at the end that jingled whenever he moved his head. Takayama didn’t seem interested; in fact he was looking at the window now of all times. Eishi did not have time to mess around or question Takayama’s ways, he was assessing Adam and coming up with questions.

Adam explained that Arthur was set up by a group called Eve III, who wanted to destroy the world using the birdmen. He also urged the bird club to not give up on humanity.

“She said her name was ‘Sky’.” Arthur said. He wasn’t looking at them, and he was somewhat curled into a ball again, “So she just wanted to use us… I wanted to free her, too…”

“Are you using your tweets again?” Naoyuki asked all of a sudden.

“It’s the only way we can communicate with Phoenix.” Eishi replied. He supposed he did pause a lot to not only think, but also listen to the others... Umino cautiously patted Arthur’s knee, who gave her a small, forced smile and curled into himself a bit more.

“Well, if he says anything you think we should hear, please tell us.” Adam said. Eishi nodded, and Adam continued on to detail a plan of cooperation for their next blackout and answer the questions that followed it.

The meeting was then concluded. Everyone filed out and took off quickly from the veranda of the house.

It was a few minutes before Arthur burst.

“Why in the world do we have to care about humans, anyway?” He suddenly declared, “If they left us alone that would be great! We-”

Umino suddenly dived bombed him with a flying kick.

“Ow?!” Arthur yelped, but quickly caught his balance in the air.

“Not everyone doesn’t care about humans!” Umino shouted, “We all have families and friends that are humans!” She flew away from him right next to Rei.

“What in the world did she just say?”

“She said that you don’t speak for us.” Eishi said, perhaps with more bite than he wanted.

“Learn your place, newbie!” Kamoda chimed in.

“Kamoda, that’s unnecessary.”

Both Arthur and Kamoda hung their heads and sulked. Rei covered his mouth and tried not to laugh.

“... Hey Eishi, he’s carrying a hat.” Rei remarked. Arthur flinched as if he were caught.

“...” Am I watching a little kid? Eishi wondered, and spoke, “Guys, go ahead to the sky tower. Arthur, come with me, we’re returning the hat.” The others acknowledged this and Eishi and Arthur split off to circle back in the other direction.

“You guys found it funny when I was wearing it!” Arthur protested, fluttering to Eishi side with crossed arms.

“Do I really have to educate you on why stealing is bad?” Eishi asked in exasperation, “I’ve seen videos of your flock raiding grocery stores and stalls for food. Has your thievery extended to material objects as well?”

“But...”

“Listen, if something belongs to someone else then you shouldn’t take it without permission. This is a basic rule in order to have a functional society.”

“They’re humans, Eishi.” Arthur’s tone suddenly changed for the worse, and Eishi wondered if he had chosen the wrong words, “You don’t understand yet because you still have families… but they’re not worth fighting for. They’ll recover from what we take just fine.”

Eishi wanted to argue back immediately, but stayed silent to choose his words carefully. Losing his cool here would not do either of them any good...

“In fact, why do we need to be around them? If we can get away, find a place to settle, make our own food, we can be free and none of them will touch us again.” Arthur continued. Eishi saw the house in the distance, but circled back to settle on top of the nearest skyscraper. Arthur followed, his talons skidding against the concrete rooftop for a few feet.

“Let’s make our own kingdom, and with enough Seraph we could make a sanctuary where no one can get hurt.” Arthur straightened up, gained confidence the more Eishi listened to him. The ridiculous bouncy and jingling hat in Arthur’s hands did not ease Eishi’s silently growing unease as they folded their wings, “It might take some time, but we could figure it out. It can start here… we could make it together.” Arthur approached him, within arm’s reach, “All you have to do is throw away this silly game of playing human.”

The way he’s ushering me away from humanity… It’s reminds me of Takayama... but that guy’s better at hiding it. Ah. Eishi made an educated guess; this guy has been a seraph for a while, hasn’t he?

“When were you turned, Phoenix?” He asked. Arthur didn’t seem to be prepared for the question and blinked dumbly, “Four years ago?” Eishi guessed.

“Oh, no. Eden took me when I was real young. I was turned when I was five.”

This guy... was a Seraph even longer than Takayama was. Was this viewpoint what awaited all of the bird club?

“The majority of us were turned months ago.” Eishi said, crossing his arms.

Arthur recoiled, “What?! Almost all of you awakened, what…. What in the world happened?!”

“Eden happened.” Eishi said, looking out the glimmering city below, “But we’re still going about our daily lives from when we were human... If Eden left us alone, we’d continue to blend in with humanity until we were dead. I don’t think that’s a bad life… maybe if we were the only birdmen, it would be possible...” He trailed off, looking to Arthur, “But we’re not… the bird club has to move carefully. As Adam said, we have be careful not to act out too much.”

“But that’s... not freedom.”

“It’s good to have restrictions.” Eishi smiled humorlessly, “From my experience humans are terrible when they’re unrestrained.” He gave Arthur a pointed look.

“What are you looking at me like that for?! Is it because of the stealing again?!” Arthur huffed, “Besides, we’re not human! We’re so much better than that now!”

“Better, less, what we can be, what does it matter?” Eishi said bitterly, “Humans at the moment still think you’re a pest, a thief, a terror coming in to take something precious. We need to be held to their standards for us to peacefully coexist.”

“We don’t have to coexist!” Arthur’s voice was almost hysteric now, as sudden anger burned in his eyes, “As I said before, we can make our own kingdom! If we combine our powers, I’m sure we could call out to everyone and gather them-”

Arthur stopped abruptly. Eishi was still shocked at Arthur’s tone, bordering on a death tweet, a fear that Arthur would make him do something he didn’t want creeping almost venomously into him, would he have to-

“It is not time yet, Arthur.” Takayama landed between them suddenly- coming in without warning like he usually did.

“You told me that before…” Arthur said softly, and stood still as Takayama reached out and grabbed his hand. Takayama’s feathers were flared, and he had a sharp look in his red eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Eishi spoke up, suddenly feeling nervous for a different reason, “What in the world are you two talking about?”

They were silent, no doubt communicating in that weird way. More secrets… Eishi thought uneasily, but as his anger slowly simmered down in the silence he tried to hope that Takayama and Arthur weren’t going to do anything harmful. Telling them to stop, to not keep anything from him regardless of what it was… would really restrict their freedom, and he didn’t want to tie the people around him down.

Takayama let go of Arthur, leapt off the skyscraper, and flew off. Arthur took a step forward as if to follow him but stopped, looking at Eishi.

“Maybe we can… agree to disagree?” He said, in an apologetic tone.

“That’s not enough, Phoenix... But it’s a start.” Eishi said. Arthur nodded and went to take off, “Where are you going?”

“I wanted to ask Takayama something-”

“Not before you return the hat and apologize.” Eishi said, taking Arthur’s arm and dragging him off the skyscraper with him. Arthur fell into formation behind him without protest for once. Eishi took out his phone from his wing mass-case and texted Naoyuki that they were coming back to return a hat.

“Oh, you can keep it if you want!” Marilyn later said with a grin and a wave of her hand as Eishi bowed in apology and held a confused Arthur’s head down too.

“Marilyn said you can keep it.” Eishi said.

“See? She didn’t need it anyway!”

“I want you to thank her.”

“She doesn’t understand english, does she?”

Eishi let go of Arthur, “Repeat after me.” He spoke the words for ‘thank you, Miss Marilyn’ slowly. Adam, who was still lingering in the room and writing, paused to watch with an interested gaze.

“Th...ank you, Miss Marilyn.” Arthur said in a heavy american accent.

“You’re welcome, Arthur!” Marilyn squealed with joy.

“Am I going to have to learn Japanese...?”

“Yes.” Eishi spoke out loud to Arthur.

“Uh, was that a greeting?”

“No, it was a confirmation.”

Arthur groaned as Eishi made his farewells to the rest of the advisors of the bird club and took off, expecting Arthur to follow.

“Why do I have to learn Japanese? Do I have to talk to humans? I thought you wanted me hidden…”

“Don’t you want to know what people are saying without having us translate?” Eishi asked.

“No, I don’t mind at all.”

“What if we’re not around?”

“Eh?” Arthur’s voice took on an almost scared tone, “But seraph stay together...”

“We’ll have leave you alone somewhere for a while while the rest of us go to school. If a human talks to you, you should know basic Japanese or else you’ll look incredibly suspicious.”

“Oh… I guess I have to learn, then.” Arthur grumbled. As silence sank between them, Eishi looked ahead to the sky terrace and came to a conclusion.

“Come on… let’s take a detour, Yellow.” He said carefully.

“Alright!” Arthur said curiously. He really did seem to like that nickname, “Wait, what about the others? Won’t they be wondering where we are?”

“They can wait.” Eishi said, closing his eyes to read the wind for a moment before flapping his wings to climb into the air. He couldn’t let Arthur see the others in this state… if Arthur kept bad-mouthing and demeaning humans the way he was doing… Umino especially would get really mad and Eishi didn’t want everyone to, in the worst case scenario, turn against or reject Arthur.

Eishi flew up until he could feel the clouds brush at his face, and formed his helmet as he broke through the first barrier and the air became more thin. Arthur flew up besides him, also wearing his helmet.

“Have you ever flown higher than this?” Eishi asked, gliding over the dips and hills of the cloud beneath him. He didn’t mind cloudy nights as much anymore… the clouds gave him more obstacles to cross, and up here the stars glimmered more than he could ever see on the ground.

“Oh, no, I never got the chance. If my group flew higher than this, some people would fall behind.” Arthur replied, diving in and out of a cloud like a spinning dolphin with wings.

“Wanna try it?”

“What if we fly into space?”

“We could try landing on the moon, then.”

“... That’s ridiculous!” Arthur laughed, and some of the tension between them loosened. Eishi took a deep breath in and darted upward. Arthur pulled ahead at a great speed- faster than Eishi had even seen Takayama go.

A few minutes of rapid ascension before-

“This is tough work.” Eishi said, panting even through his special mask. It was harder to breathe, and he felt thirsty and freezing cold. He couldn’t reach Arthur anymore, who was struggling and falling and rising like he was fighting the cosmos itself.

“Come on, Black! We can do this!” Arthur was suddenly reaching down to him, his furious flapping not generating as much as wind as it should.

“I’m gonna faint if we go on.” Eishi said, taking his hand anyway.

Arthur pulled them both up to Eishi’s horror and excitement, “Wow… I can really see our breaths up here! Is that ice on your wing?!”

“If we both faint and die from fall damage, I’m going to kill you.” Eishi said, practically hyperventilating at this point. Ugh, he was going to get a chest cramp from this…

“How can you kill me if we’re both dead?”

“I’m done.” Eishi’s wings drooped, his weight dragging them both down. Arthur wheezed with airless laughter before dropping him and folding his wings to freefall besides him.

“What a view!” Arthur cried out as the air whistled around them. Eishi took a breath of the icy-cold air rushing in and regained enough focus to look around, his heartbeat thrumming through him. He could see the curvature of the Earth from this height, and far beyond the city he lived in. The lights were beautiful, and for a moment he wondered if there were any distinction from the stars in the sky and the city’s lights below. It was absolutely beautiful, but...

“I am… not ever doing this again.” He said, rubbing his arms even as he fell. He was shivering, both from adrenaline and the cold. Luckily the air got a bit warmer as they skydived since it was close to summer… if it were winter Eishi was sure he’d get hypothermia.

“Agreed… I want to set something on fire and take a nap there.” Arthur said.

“You live up to your name, Phoenix.”

“I do?”

“Are you a pyromaniac, too?”

“What?! No way! I’m just cold right now!”

“Right now… Oh, I can’t believe I’ve made you a pyromaniac…”

“Blaaaack!!!”

Eishi snapped his wings back into form and swerved at the last second to dive through a gap in the clouds. Arthur dived right through them.

“AAAAAH, THAT’S COLD!” He yelled while Eishi grinned, “You did that on purpose, didn’t you!” Eishi shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll get you back for this!”

“That’s what all the villains in television say before they’re taken to jail.”

“I doubt they said it telepathically! Well, maybe a few in a marvel comic books I didn’t read yet… Wait, I’m going to jail???”

“Hmmm…” Eishi hummed both inwardly and out loud as he set his sights on the sky tower, “Maybe cops and robbers would be a fun game for the bird club.”

“You guys play games?”

“We’re a club for a reason.”

“That sounds like fun! I want to join!”

“Of course you get to join, Yellow, you’re already an official member.”

“Ah… yes, of course!” Arthur beamed.

The silence that passed was much better than the previous one. Eishi was a bit guilty that he and Arthur basically ditched the others who were no doubt waiting for them, but it turned out well enough in the end.

“You know… I really wish my flock could have met you guys.” Arthur said, settling into a glide besides him.

“Even if we’re posing as humans?”

“No, cause’ I think we’d all be really good friends… Canary and Rei would get along so well, I think.. Fly and Kamoda are so similar… And Robin always did need help opening up to others, she’s such a shy girl, maybe Umino could have helped her...” Arthur spoke their names and others Eishi did not recognize. But as he went on and on, his voice seemed more and more choked with emotion.

“... What happened to them, Phoenix?” Eishi asked softly, tilting his wings to drift away from the sky tower again.

“I don’t mind it if the others see me cry, so can we head back to them?” Arthur said softly, “I don’t like being apart…”

“Okay.” Eishi replied, putting their course back on track. He worried about Arthur, and wondered if he’d really be okay being by himself even if it was just for a school day tomorrow… Something, just felt off about how quickly Arthur was opening up to him. Was it because they were both bellwethers? Was it because he couldn’t go back to his flock-?

“... My group... was shot down, I think.” Arthur whispered, barely loud enough to hear.

“... You think?”

“I… can’t remember clearly. Can I try showing you?” Arthur flinched, “Wait, no, I’m sorry, it’s-”

“Hey! Heyyy! What took you guys so long?” Kamoda suddenly called. In the distance the others were jumping off the sky tower and flying towards them.

“We took some detours.” Eishi replied.

“No fair, Eishi, taking the new guy for yourself!” Rei chided, “Umino wanted to kick him around some more!”

“Eh?!” Arthur cried. Umino darted ahead to meet them.

“Prepare yourself for ditching us on your first day, Yellow!” She shouted, coming at them way too fast, “You, too, Black!”

“Me too?!” Eishi shouted, and successfully dived under Umino’s swiping arms heading in his direction only to get his helmeted head kicked. He was sent spinning right into Kamoda, who caught him by his wings.

“Black successfully captured!” He said proudly. Eishi didn’t bother struggling-he knew Kamoda was far stronger than him and resistance would only feed his huge ego.

“That was sneaky, Blue.” Eishi said approvingly, looking up to see Arthur was faring.

“Haha, is this one of the games?” Arthur and Umino were doing figure 8’s at such high speeds that Eishi’s eyes were spinning, “You can’t catch me, Blue!” His wings thrummed powerfully as he spun up at a rate that left Umino let out a groan of frustration. His helmet melted back into his armor as he flashed them a cheeky grin.

Eishi sighed, “Umino, both Takayama and Kamoda couldn’t catch him until he gave himself up. Your efforts are probably meaningless-”

“Silence, prisoner!” Rei cried out, “We can all catch him if we work together, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Umino and Kamoda chorused, although Umino was doing all the work. Takayama seemed content to watch, perched on a skyscraper crane below.

Eishi was glad they were getting along, but felt as if he had unfinished business with Arthur. However, seeing him and the others so happy now… there was no way he wanted to ruin this by talking about the destruction of Arthur’s flock. It would have to wait until later…

I should prepare myself for that memory-sharing thing, too… Eishi thought, unconsciously holding his hands to his chest. He didn’t like it, it felt beyond way too personal, but if Arthur knew of a threat that could harm the bird club, or a way to get him back to what remained of his flock if there were any left, he’d put up with it...

“Hey, Black, you wanna make your punishment less severe by helping us catch him?” Kamoda asked.

“You’ll let me go?” Eishi asked.

“Yeah.” Kamoda let got of him, and Eishi suddenly dived and darted away out of sight, “Hey! Eishi! You said you’d help!”

“I never agreed to anything, just asked if you’d let me go.” Eishi replied matter-of-factly, swooping up before the city lights could reveal him too much and tucking in his wings to go through a gap between the pipes behind a billboard to slow Kamoda down before finding a blessed updraft of air that made him shoot up into the air.

“Reiii, Eishi’s getting awayyy!” Kamoda lamented.

“It’s your fault, you were supposed to watch him! You’re getting punished too!” Rei declared.

“You’re not doing anything, Rei! I’m gonna punish YOU!” Umino cried, tackling Rei who screamed.

“Attacking the president! You’re getting punished too, usurper!” Rei shouted as he struggled fruitlessly. Eishi snickered from above, only to sense someone coming too late- he was grabbed! And considering those yellow markings on those arms-

“I caught Black! Does that mean my punishment is less severe?” Arthur called.

“Yes!” Kamoda cheered.

“Traitorous pickpocket, I should have known…” Eishi grumbled. Arthur laughed as he dragged Eishi down to the others.

“What even is the punishment?” Umino asked while she held a limp Rei in a headlock.

“... Catch Takayama.” Eishi said. It would both be challenging and maybe drag Takayama out of the weird funk he was in.

“Oooo! That’s a great idea!” Umino cheered, “Let’s get im’! … Hey, Rei, are you okay?”

“I’m dead.” Rei muttered.

“Cool!” Umino said, dropping him. Rei yelped but regained his balance quickly and elegantly as if he had never made a sound, coughing as if to clear his throat.

Takayama, the definition of elusive, didn’t move as everyone glanced to one another before diving down to him in unison…

He’s baiting us! Eishi thought, but besides a few shocked blinks Takayama didn’t do much as everyone grabbed onto him in a weird winged pile. There was a shocked silence.

“... Was I supposed to fly away?” Takayama asked, completely pinned down. Umino burst out laughing, which got everyone else going at how ridiculous this all was. Takayama gave a smile.

“Of course you were!”

“Get off me, Kamoda, you’re heavy!” Rei whined.

“Ok-owowowOW EISHI WATCH THE CLAWS-” Kamoda said.

“Whoops.” Eishi snickered.

“Why you little-”

“Can you please not fight when you’re lying on top of me!” Arthur cried.

“Think of how poor Takayama feels!” Umino said, her face red as she realized that she was stuck, too.

“I’m fine.” Takayama said as he turned towards her, making Umino scream and kick and soon everyone was struggling to get out of this pile. They dispersed in a few moments and hung onto various parts of the crane, panting and giggling like idiots.

“We should go back to the sky tower before anyone sees us.” Eishi said, and with everyone’s agreement the successfully bonded Bird Club fluttered back to base.

#birdmen #arthur #Eishi #takayama #Umino #Rei #Kamoda #fanfic #kaiwrites

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mynameisdreartblog · 6 years ago

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After 3

Libra: After stripping. In lesson six I teach children that they are being watched. I keep each student under constant surveillance and so do my colleagues. There are no private spaces for children; there is no private time. Class change lasts 300 seconds to keep promiscuous fraternization at low levels. Students are encouraged to tattle on each other, even to tattle on their parents. Of course I encourage parents to file their own child's waywardness, too. I assign "homework" so that this surveillance extends into the household, where students might otherwise use the time to learn something unauthorized, perhaps from a father or mother, or by apprenticing to some wiser person in the neighborhood. The lesson of constant surveillance is that no one can be trusted, that privacy is not legitimate. Surveillance is an ancient urgency among certain influential thinkers; it was a central prescription set down by Calvin in the Institutes, by Plato in the Republic, by Hobbes, by Comte, by Francis Bacon. All these childless men discovered the same thing: Children must be closely watched if you want to keep a society under central control. It is the great triumph of schooling that among even the best of my fellow teachers, and among even the best parents, there is only a small number who can imagine a different way to do things.

Cancer: After registration. It’s going to be a hellish day already from the way the clouds shroud the sun. It’s tense, taking the first roll out of your car to see what haunting labyrinth awaits in front of you. It’s outside walls resemble those of the palaces of great tycoons, and the guards who stand next to you don’t make you feel anymore comfortable. Welcome to, what us common folk call, the DMV. Thankfully, you picked a great time to come here as there’s pretty much nobody else here. That should’ve rang off some alarm bells, but I don’t think yours are functioning up to performance. Get onto the ramp and head up inside, I’m sure they’re just as excited to meet you as you are to meet them. As the doors open up for you, the eerie atmosphere of the being the only person there, aside from that guy in the corner eating Pop Rocks, creates a very cold feeling.Your hand approaches the receptionist bell with a shaky palm. The bell has been rung, it’s over and done. Fifteen minutes have passed and nobody has popped up from the dreaded desk… how peculiar. Thirty-three minutes have now passed and still nobody shows up to ask for your birth certificate and billing information to renew a license that was doomed to expire. Now, any rational person would realize that the old dude sitting the corner was most likely part of cleanup crew, and this place must be closed. But you’re no ordinary person, as your senses tell you this must be a sting operation. Quickly, seize the man, tie him to a chair, and threaten his life until these assassins show their faces! Nobody’s getting outta here, with their lives renewed, until you get your license renewed.

Virgo: After ageing. Remember your childhood nemesis? If you don’t, then that’s not okay. You can’t just live a normal life without having some emotional burden causing unnecessary drama in your life. We need to revive your old grudges back from the dead to forcefully open up old wounds again! First, we gotta start out this process of emotional infantilizing by throwing away all of your sense of position in the world; you gotta act like everything revolves around you, and anything that happens to you is of world-shattering proportions. Now that your inner child is starting to get a grasp on your soul with their tiny hands, you must let them take it over. Look back into your oldest memories; recall when she accidentally suffocated your pet turtle, when she took your shoes without your permission, when she ate your Fruit Roll-Up. Yes, the inner child within you grows restless and your state of mind is starting to degenerate. Next, we take this to the next level: find out if she still lives in the same house you always associated her with. Next, tag along something that’ll make you earn her trust, and then, in ultimately irony, let your gift have the duality of being both a sign of trust and a weapon of murder. These wounds are so old that the tissue they cut is barely recognizable. On second thought: we may be going a little too far with this. Look, let’s try to settle your dispute with her in a way that hits home with a battering ram. We shouldn’t cause any harm to her through conventional means, rather we should prove ourselves to be better than her. There’s only one way that this plan can end satisfyingly: a dance competition.

Sagittarius: After conversion. Everyone's version 2.0 of themselves now, didn't you know? After the so-called Great Invasion of the Northern Hemisphere, the entire human race had their brains teleported out of their skulls and placed right into artificially grown bodies. Oh, it was an absolute shitshow: the media was losing their minds as they were screaming live on air as bulky creatures grabbed them by their skulls. If you ask me, I think they were politicizing the event way too much. I mean, are we really gonna let something like this prevent us from focusing on the important issues like the national debt? And it’s not just the news media, I can recall my neighbors whining at me saying that I need to help barricade the neighborhood with whatever I got. I don’t know about you, but I’m not giving up this couch to help spread political hysteria to my own community. Aside from that, they were also crying to me about how their children have already been taken or whatever; I could’ve cared less about it. The strange part, about all that nonsense, was that nothing really changed though. Cancer patients still had cancer, amputees didn't get their limbs back, and you still have that embarrassing mole on your ass. Nobody really knows why it happened, because it was pretty useless, and if you ask me, completely made up so the coastal plutocrats can gain some political prominence with their weird-ass “brain swapping stories”, but whatever. Come on, we gotta go meet Brian Vogel v2.0 for that D&D campaign. You have to keep the “2.0” on his name whenever you refer to him, as he’s obsessed with this event as well.

#zodiaccupuncture #Libra #Cancer #Virgo #Sagittarius #zodiac #horoscope

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pirates-of-arcadia-bay · 7 years ago

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Everyday Heroes (Fic) - Ch.1 Preview [WIP]

"Following the events that occurred in the small community of Arcadia Bay, Oregon on October 11th, 2013, persons with augmented abilities began appearing among the general populace. The existence of such persons, termed 'metahumans', has resulted in widespread social upheaval. Our society has never been the same since they arrived in our midst."

- Mark Jefferson, "The Origin of Metahumans"

The underground metro station was grimy and hot, and the whooshing of giant fans did very little to help as Max Caulfield descended the stairs to the platform of the station. Clutching her brand new expensive camera close to her chest, she tried to look as inconspicuous as possible while scanning the faces of people gathered there. Fortunately, being inconspicuous was something that came easily to her.

It shouldn't be too hard to find, right? She thought to herself, nervously toying with the strap of her camera. I just gotta look for someone with glowing eyes...

She tucked her body into a corner beside the escalator. Its filthy walls were adorned with graffiti, written phrases like Tempest is my girlfriend and Heroes R human too! A particular doodle caught her gaze that depicted a crow with its wings outstretched. Somebody's wasting their artistic skills... she thought as she brought her camera up to her eyes and turned it towards the platform.

Hidden away like this, Max could play the voyeur without drawing attention to herself. The zoom function on her new camera captured every detail; she used it to scan the crowd, searching the face of every person that was waiting on the platform. To her disappointment, none of them showed any signs of what she was looking for. But that was all right. Staking out a scene was what being an investigative photojournalist was all about.

A rumble in the distance signaled that a train would be arriving soon. With a screech of brakes and a rush of air, the train emerged from the tunnel and slowed to a stop at the platform. Its doors opened and commuters poured out; Max zoomed out and carefully tried to scan the faces of every person who emerged from the train. Come on, come on...

There!! One of the people who stepped off the train and onto the platform had a black hoodie pulled over most of their head. Before they turned their face away, Max thought she saw two points of bright light shining within their eyes.

I found you, she thought, lowering her camera. The hooded figure was heading in the opposite direction, towards the stairs on the far side of the platform.

"You're not getting away that easy," she murmured to herself as she slipped out of her nook and started weaving her way through the crowd after the person with glowing eyes. She bumped shoulders with a few commuters, drawing an irate shout or two from the people she carelessly pushed aside in pursuit of her target. It doesn't matter, she told herself. This is more important!

She reached the bottom of the stairs just as the hooded figure had reached the top and was turning the corner. Taking a deep breath, she sprinted up the stairs, two at a time. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she reached the top of the stairs. The adrenaline from the chase surged in her blood, its taste metallic in her mouth. She scanned the upper floor, with the ticket gates and exits to street level, trying to see where her target had gone.

Footsteps pounding on concrete caused her head to turn. Her target was sprinting towards the street-level exit. Crap, she thought, I've been spotted! But she wasn't about to give up that easy. This was her scoop; she was going to prove to the New Arcadia Times that this rookie photojournalist was more than just some wannabe instagram hipster.

Vaulting over the subway turnstile, she ran out the exit in pursuit of the hooded figure with glowing eyes. The subway doors opened into a public park; outside, the fresh sea breeze intermingled with the car exhaust of the city and the scent of pine needles, a combination of smells that seemed unique to New Arcadia City. The scent carried a nostalgic feeling, but Max didn't have time to reminisce. The hooded person was getting away; she spotted them ducking into a side alleyway, the pinpricks of light in their eyes turning away from her as they caught her looking.

Max sprinted after them, cutting across the middle of the street. The sound of tires squealing on concrete echoed behind her as a car slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting her. "Sorry!" she called over her shoulder as she ducked into the alleyway. The stench of garbage and sewage was more prominent here. Also, the alleyway ended in a dead-end, and her target was nowhere in sight.

She swore under her breath and scanned the area for potential sources of egress. A rattling up above caused her to glance up; four flights up, the hooded figure was climbing the fire escape, heading towards the roof of the building. How did they get up there so fast? She wondered. The first level of the fire escape was elevated about ten feet off the ground; but if she climbed on top of a dumpster, she could reach it if she jumped.

Here goes nothing, she thought, climbing up on top of the dumpster. The metal dented inward underneath her feet. The ladder up to the next level of the fire escape was raised; but if she jumped, she could just barely grab it. She bent her knees and, taking a flying leap, grabbed the metal bar. The ladder came down with a clatter and she scrambled up up it onto the first landing. Up above, the hooded figure with glowing eyes was getting away.

Wish I was in better shape... she thought ruefully as she sprinted up the stairs. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, each inhale burning her lungs. From one of the windows of the apartment complex, one of the residents was peering at her curiously, wondering about the source of all the chaos on the fire escape. But this was New Arcadia, where chaos was almost routine.

Finally, she reached the top landing. The hooded person had disappeared onto the roof of the building; to pursue them, Max would need to figure out how to get up there, herself. It was about a ten-foot vertical rise from the landing on the fire escape, but she could probably stand on the windowsill for an eight-foot leap, or... she glanced over at the railing on the edge. It was risky, but if she stood on that, she could grab the edge of the roof, then shimmy over to the window and maybe use its frame to push herself up over the top.

Parkour, she thought to herself as she braced herself against the brick exterior of the apartment complex. She swung the strap of her camera around so that it was hanging against her back. Then she pushed off the rim of a potted plant and placed one foot on the edge of the railing. By extending her fingertips, she could just barely gain purchase on the lip of the roof. If I fall here, it'll really fuck up my camera, she thought, and then reflected on how messed-up her priorities were. By placing the other foot on the edge of the windowsill, she was able to get a better grasp on the edge of the roof.

Grunting with exertion, she hauled her body up so that her torso was over the edge of the roof and the toes of her shoes were touching the top of the window's frame. There was a mortifying second where one of her feet started to slip, but then she was able to regain her footing. With all her strength, she pulled her entire body up over the edge of the roof and finally landed on solid ground again. She gulped in air as she caught her breath and tried to ignore the burning in her legs, arms, and lungs. Then she looked up at the roof of her building.

The person in the hoodie was standing there, not moving, watching her. This close, Max could tell that they were slender, dressed in nearly all-black, with a bandanna covering their nose and mouth that bore the image of a skeletal bird's beak. They were wearing goggles over their eyes, which failed to completely mask the lights that were shining from within.

"Why the fuck are you following me?!" the person in the hoodie asked. Their voice was androgynous, but vaguely feminine, which threw Max for a loop because she had been mentally picturing a man. "You with the Hero Association?"

Max held up her hands. "I'm not," she said, trying to seem as non-threatening as possible. "I'm a civilian."

"Then what're you doing chasing after me? Fuckin' weirdo..." They shifted their weight from side-to-side, as though preparing to run, although there was nowhere for them to go. The only exits to the roof were back down the fire escape, or through a door hatch that appeared to be padlocked.

Max considered her options. Saying she was an investigative journalist would probably not go over great. Might as well leverage what little knowledge she had at her disposal... "I'm here because I'm after Kronos."

"Who told you about that?!" The tone of the person's voice slid up an octave; now Max was eighty percent sure she was speaking with a woman. "I got jack shit to do with that stuff."

"You don't have to lie. I know you've got some," Max said. She pointed to her own eyes, then to the hooded figure's glowing ones.

"Really? Aw, fuck..." They looked aside. "They told me these goggles would help..."

"It's not your fault, I have sharp eyes," Max said. She tried to take a calm, level approach. "Don't worry. I'm not gonna report you. I just... really need to get my hands on some Kronos."

The hooded figure narrowed their eyes at Max. "You don't look like a junkie," they said. "Take my advice: don't mess around with that stuff. You're too young and pretty to get caught up in that shit."

"It's not for me," Max said. "It's for... my boss. He really, really needs it, but he doesn't want to... get his hands dirty, so he sent me after it instead," she lied. "I'm sure you know what I'm talking about."

The person in the hoodie considered this. "Get a new job, then," they said.

"I can't, I've tried," Max said. "Please -- even just a little bit is fine. I'll pay you." That was a lie -- she had maybe $20 on her person at the time, and not much money otherwise, as she hadn't gotten paid by the newspaper yet. But the person in the hoodie didn't know that.

"Sorry," the hooded figure said with a shrug. "I don't actually have anything on me right now. Even if I did, I'm not allowed to sell it myself. You'd have to go to Dogcatcher for that. I'm just running an errand." They turned to one side and shouted into the air, "That's the last time I work for you in broad daylight, you fucking idiot!"

"Okay," Max said, taking a step forward. "Give me Dogcatcher's number then."

"Nuh-uh. If you don't already have it, then I'm not giving you nothin'. People get his contact on a need-to-know basis. You don't need to know."

"I used to have his number," Max said. "Or, well, my boss did, but then he changed phones. Dealers, am I right?" She nodded and tried to look sympathetic.

The hooded figure crossed their arms. "You got persistence, kid, I'll give you that."

"It's what I'm known for." Max shrugged. "But I'm sure that Dogcatcher will be happy to hear you turned away a potential customer. I suppose drug business is booming, so what's the difference of a couple thousand? Or even ten grand?"

"There's no way you have that kinda dough," said the person in the hoodie.

"I don't, but my boss definitely does," Max said. "Did you know that the higher-ups in Prescott Industries make even more than Heroes do? I just thought that was interesting..."

"Prescott Industries? Well, shit... now I see what you mean," they said. They seemed at an impasse; they rocked forward on their toes and back on their heels. "...If I run, you'll just chase after me again, won't you."

"Yep," said Max, smugly.

"Gotta say, I'm pretty impressed a normie like you even made it up here in the first place. You don't have even a little bit of juice in you, right?" They shrugged. "I wasn't lying when I said I haven't got any, though. They gave me a micro-dose of the stuff so that I could make it across town in time to deliver a message. And now you've made me late, so, thanks for that, girlie."

"So it makes you... faster, and stronger?" Max asked, leaning in.

"...And high, yeah," they said. Then they seemed to realize what they were admitting to and took a step back. "But you didn't hear any of that from me."

"Of course, I already knew that," Max lied.

"Right, well, because you're fucking crazy and you'll keep chasing me no matter what... here's what I can do." The hooded figure walked towards Max, which set her heart racing even though she was still technically in control. "I'll set you up with a time and place to meet up. Me or one of Dogcatcher's guys will meet you there with the stuff. Two G's worth, no less. And if you flake, or if you're lying..." they paused for dramatic effect. "It'd be a shame if anything had to happen to that pretty face of yours."

"O-okay," Max said, trying to hide the fact that she was trembling in her shoes. The person in the hoodie got out a scrap of paper and a pen from their pocket and started to write on it. Then they tore the piece of paper and approached Max to hand it over.

"Friday night, ten P.M. Behind the Two Whales Diner. Don't be la--" they paused, as if they had just noticed something, and withdrew the slip of paper. "Wait a minute. What's that on your back?"

"It's-- not important," Max said. She had a bad feeling about this.

"Is that a fucking camera?!" The person in the hoodie grew more irate. "You fucking snitch. You're not looking for drugs -- you're a reporter, aren't you?"

Fuck. "I-it's just a hobby, I swear," Max said, although hearing her own voice, she wouldn't believe the words she was saying, either.

"Don't lie to me. How do I know you haven't been recording this shit the entire time?!"

"I-- I haven't, I--" Max spluttered.

The hooded figure lunged forward. They grabbed Max's wrist, twisting it painfully. Up close, Max could see their glowing eyes more clearly behind the goggles. Their irises were blue, and their pupils blown wide as the lights of Kronos shined through. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't throw you off this roof," they growled.

"B-because... murder is wrong?" Max said, desperately.

The figure glared at her. Their skin felt hot against Max's wrists, and as they twisted her arm she let out a cry of pain. Suddenly, the person loosened their grip on Max, who recoiled in an instant, clutching her wrist to her body. A look of confusion flashed across the hooded figure's eyes as they stared at her.

"Can't be... Max?"

[... TO BE CONTINUED ...]

#life is strange #fanfic #everyday heroes

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joshchristvevo · 7 years ago

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She Has Upheld Justice

Or: Why YHWH’s Definition of Justice Has a Bit More To Do with Promiscuous Widows Than Your Congressman Might Have You Believe

[[The following is the incredibly rough draft of a piece that I will probably have published one day within a larger work. There are a lot of ideas expressed here that aren’t fully fleshed out or expressed in full detail. This entire essay/prose poem is copyrighted to myself.]]

People get so surprised, I think, when I tell them that there’s a story in the Bible where a girl disguises herself as a prostitute and has sex with her father-in-law. They don’t expect that to be in there. They’re even more surprised when they find out that she’s the hero. That at the end of her story she is applauded for what she’s done. That later she gets a mention as the ancestor of Christ.

Her name’s Tamar, and you can read her story in Genesis 38, but I’ll follow the text pretty closely here while I tell it. You see, there’s this guy Judah, and he’s the son of Israel, the ancestor and namesake of the people of Israel. Judah’s not the firstborn, but due to some earlier mishaps and events his older brothers have been disinherited and Judah is the heir now. So Judah goes out and finds a Canaanite woman and marries her – which was a big no-no for the day – and he and this woman, Shua, have three sons.

The oldest son grows up and marries a Canaanite girl – like father, like son – and this girl is Tamar. Trouble is, this oldest son is actually a terrible person, so God strikes him dead. This creates a problem for Tamar – women in ancient Israelite society weren’t legally allowed to own property unless they were tied to a man in some way (usually their fathers during the earlier part of their life, and then their husband during the later part). Not being tied to a man was also bad in other ways: there was no one to defend Tamar if she were in trouble, and the way that home economics functioned in that day meant that, if a person of any gender wanted to survive, they needed at least one other person living with them to divide tasks with. Life in ancient Israel was really complex and tough.

Luckily Israelite law allowed a clearly designated loophole to this aforementioned rule in order to protect women in Tamar’s circumstances: if a widow bore the son of a brother of her dead husband, that son would be legally considered the dead husband’s child and rightful heir. Problem solved. The widow is no longer “untied” to a man (my words, not the Bible’s). Through this process, Tamar could be redeemed – that is, restored to a state of legal and social freedom.

Unfortunately for Tamar, however, the second-oldest brother isn’t a very good redeemer. Actually, he’s a really bad one. He explicitly does not want to be a redeemer. He marries her, certainly, but in one of the most sexually explicit passages in the Bible we learn that whenever they have sex, he just pulls out and climaxes on the ground.

God doesn’t like this very much. The second brother also dies.

Judah, apparently not understanding that his sons are just horrible people, assumes Tamar is bad luck and sends her away (destitute) instead of letting her try again with his youngest son.

Fast forward some time later and Judah is traveling with a friend. They visit a small town and there by the town gate Judah spies a beautiful woman with a veiled face – a cult prostitute. Within the context of ancient Near Eastern society, these were women employed by the cult of a fertility goddess. You could pay to have sex with them, for a price, and in return you’d receive some serious blessings from the fertility goddess.

Maybe Judah was a little worried about the state of his fertility given the recent deaths of his two sons. Maybe he just thought she had nice boobs. We aren’t told for sure. He has sex with her though, and this is a pretty big red flag to be honest. The whole point of the Bible’s overarching story until now has been that Judah’s family has a contract with YHWH and YHWH is supposed to be the source of all their fertility. Judah’s not just cheating on his wife right now, but also on his family’s personal deity. He’s actually breaking divine contract. Not good.

Perhaps just as bad, Judah’s a bad john. He doesn’t have any money on him.

“Give me your staff and your signet ring as collateral,” the cult prostitute says, still veiled this whole time. “You can have them back when you return to me with the money.”

Judah goes back home and comes back with the cash, but the cult prostitute is gone and so are his staff and signet ring.

“Where’s the cult prostitute who sits by the town gate?” Judah asks the people of this small town.

“We haven’t got any cult prostitutes here,” the people reply, bewildered.

Judah goes back home utterly confused, and lifted of his staff and signet ring – important symbols of his authority as head of his household.

Some time later, he hears upsetting news: Tamar has been found. Pregnant.

Judah is suddenly filled with righteous indignation. “Not with any son of mine!” he probably says to himself, all smug. He orders that she must be brought and put to death – the proper fate for a woman guilty of an extramarital affair in Israelite society.

Tamar is brought before him.

“Do you want to tell me who the father is?” Judah asks her.

“The father, my lord, is the man who left these with me,” she says – and displays Judah’s own staff and signet ring.

Judah tears his robe and cries out:

“She has upheld justice better than me!”

“Upheld justice”? In my Bible? It’s more likely than you think.

The story of Tamar presents a tough challenge to the popular modern conception that the God of the Bible advocates for the punishment of women who have sketchy sex. (More on that later.) But it also offered a challenge to ancient Israelites in their own society.

Think about it: Judah is the son of Israel, founder of Israel. Judah’s own name is where we get the word Judaism from. He’s the ancestor of many notable Biblical characters, including King David and eventually Jesus. But who is the woman through whom he begets these great figures? Tamar.

Tamar, who tricks him into having sex with her. Tamar, who can’t keep a man. Tamar, who is a Canaanite! One of the most enduring narrative threads throughout the Bible is the struggle between Israel and the Canaanites! Not only is there a struggle for resources with them both living in the same area, but the Canaanites are just straight up sketchy people – among the rituals the Bible describes them as practicing, having sex with prostitutes to get fertility blessings is honestly one of the less disturbing ones.

Judah ought to be the hero here! He’s far better qualified! But what does he do in the story? He makes shady deals with Canaanites. He refuses to act as redeemer for a disenfranchised woman! He cheats on both his wife and his God and breaks a contract with said God!!!

As for Tamar?

“She has upheld justice better than me.”

You see, the Bible doesn’t really treat justice the way our modern society does. The word used here for it is the Hebrew word tzedakah, and though it’s often translated as “righteousness”, the more proper way to translate it is “social justice”. Within a Biblical context, tzedakah is the ongoing process by which people, both on an individual and national level, ensure that others are treated fairly and receive the same privileges and benefits as everyone else. YHWH is always described as a champion for tzedakah, and commands his people to do the same. Our modern concept of “human rights”? That comes from the Bible’s description of tzedakah. You want to be a “righteous person” according to the Bible’s standard? You uphold tzedakah.

And the trouble is, tzedakah never really has anything to do with punishing. No one’s ever described in the Bible as upholding tzedakah because they executed a murderer, or stoned an adulteress, or railed publicly against people with different religious beliefs, or used tax money to bomb another country.

The Bible’s definition of justice hardly ever focuses on punishing – even though it does make it clear that there are actions YHWH disapproves of and that people who do those actions should be punished.

But whenever the Bible talks about justice, it talks about it not in terms of taking away, but in terms of giving.

To really get into the ways that the Bible, and specifically YHWH, describes social justice, we’ve gotta get into the Torah (the first five books of the Bible), specifically the Book of Deuteronomy. A lot of scholars will tell you that the Book of Deuteronomy describes YHWH’s view of justice this way: if you’re a good person, YHWH gives you good things, and if you’re a sinner, YHWH takes things away. By this model, then, we should expect that people who are happy and successful and rich are the people who do what YHWH wants and whom YHWH has rewarded for such. Alternatively, we could then assume that people who are sad, who are unsuccessful, who are poor, are just that way because they aren’t good people and haven’t done what YHWH wants them to. You could say, in effect, that they haven’t earned the right to be successful. Sound familiar?

The problem is that if you project that view onto Deuteronomy, and therefore onto the rest of the entire Bible, it won’t actually have a leg to stand on. Scholars who purport this view that Deuteronomy says this are basing this view on a standalone chapter toward the end of Deuteronomy, in which YHWH tells Israel that if they follow his commandments, he will give them some pretty sweet blessings, but if they don’t, then he’ll curse them with this long laundry list of totally bad things.

So what’s the trouble? Well, even me describing this chapter this way already completely divorces it from any relevant context in the story. First off, it divorces it from its narrative context – the whole point of Deuteronomy so far has been that YHWH, through Moses, is preparing the people of Israel to actually enter their homeland of Canaan again after the whole slavery-in-Egypt incident (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, put this down real quick and either go read the first 15 chapters of Exodus or watch The Prince of Egypt.) In addition, the entire Torah so far has been about the covenant (or contract) YHWH has been making with Israel since he first started talking with their ancestor Abraham back in Genesis 12 – a covenant contract which in essence boils down to “If you do what I say, you can live in the land of Canaan.” So this whole blessings and curses business? Well, if you read the blessings yourself (they’re in Deuteronomy 28), you’ll notice that they all have to do with living in the land of Canaan. Especially within an ancient Near Eastern context, you could basically condense all those blessings down to “If you do what I say, not only will you live in the land of Canaan, but the land will be really great and fertile and you’ll be able to grow, like, so much food.” The curses, which make up the rest of the chapter after the blessings, are pretty easy to understand then once you take this into consideration and also read up a bit on how siege warfare works: YHWH describes a lot of curses that sound really gross and strange but actually in context are things that these people would have recognized as the effects of a devastating war. Essentially, then, the curses are all just saying, “If you don’t do what I say, not only will life in the land of Canaan not be really cushy, but I won’t let you stay there – you’ll leave one way or another, either on your own or being dragged away by foreign invaders.” If Israel breaks the contract, it’s not YHWH’s job to keep them safe from enemies anymore. They’d be on their own, and the ancient Near East is not a friendly place.

Second, describing this chapter of Deuteronomy this way also divorces it from its legal context – the Torah’s description of tzedakah and YHWH’s contract with Israel. See, the way the Torah describes YHWH’s contract with Israel, it seems that the bulk of YHWH’s terms for Israel boil down to “do these specific rituals to worship me, and uphold tzedakah”. Roughly half of the commands YHWH gives Israel revolve around the particular ways they are (and aren’t) supposed to worship him; the other half revolves around YHWH’s definition and command of justice. This first category isn’t so important to the issue I’m discussing, but is interesting on its own and a lot has been written about it. The second category is what I’d like to explore.

Within the context of the Torah, and especially within Deuteronomy, the process of tzedakah, social justice, can be described as the process of lifting up those in society who don’t have the same opportunities and privileges you do. The Bible’s word for these sort of marginalized, desperate people is often translated “the poor”, and the Bible often concretizes these people into three easily distinguishable categories: the widows, the orphans, and the aliens (i.e. foreigners). (Cf Exodus 22:22, Deuteronomy 16:11-14, 26:12, etc.)

Why are these categories notable?

The widow, in ancient Israelite society, was any woman who, like Tamar who we met earlier, didn’t belong to the household of any particular man, in this case because her husband had died. We’ve touched already on why this was such a huge issue in this society.

The orphan was equal to the widow in terms of social status. In this context, an orphan was a person of any age who didn’t belong to a household. Like a widow, this meant you had no rights, because rights and blessings were passed down within the family estate – without that, you had nothing. (I say an orphan can be any age here, but technically speaking in order to be put in a position in which you’ve lost your entire household, you’ve likely got to be pretty young, at least at the time of the disaster.) Also, remember earlier, when I said that due to the structuring of Israelite society and the harshness of life in Israel, it was impossible to survive alone? That was assuming you’re a strong, able-bodied adult man. Try being a child. Without charity, you’d be dead within a month.

The alien was in a similar position to the widow and the orphan – as a foreigner, you wouldn’t have ties to any Israelite household which you could rely on for food, financial support, and legal rights and protections. Like the widow and the orphan, the alien would have been out on the street, alone and afraid and completely destitute, with no clear sign of where their next meal would come from or where they could find relief if they were bothered by a summer storm or a band of thieves.

These people had absolutely no rights in ancient Israelite society, and no means to survive.

And the thing is: YHWH absolutely loves these people. In the parts of the Torah where he isn’t specifying how he is to be worshipped, he just can’t stop gushing about these people. There are a ton of laws given specifically to ensure that these people, the poor and disenfranchised and destitute on the edge of society, are looked after and provided for and redeemed.

Deuteronomy 10:18-19 says, “He restores the rights of the orphan and the widow, and he shows love to the alien by giving him food and a cloak. You also must show love to the alien, for aliens were you in the land of Egypt.”

One of the Bible’s most startling claims is that the all-powerful God who moves heaven and earth is deeply invested in the lives of those who lack provision in society.

This is because, at his core, YHWH is a God of Love.

In Exodus 33 and 34, the prophet Moses seeks to see YHWH face to face. YHWH agrees, but explains that he is too powerful for Moses to see him and survive, so he will only show Moses a tiny glimpse of him as he passes Mount Sinai. So Moses goes up Mount Sinai, but does he see anything? No.

Instead, in order to glimpse YHWH’s true form, Moses is blasted with a list of YHWH’s core defining characteristics, in one of the most beautiful poems in the Bible in my opinion:

“YHWH! YHWH!

A God who loves intimately and is full of favor!

Who takes a long time to get angry!

Overflowing with mercy and honest faithfulness!

Who keeps mercy for thousands,

Who accepts guilt and rebellion and failure,

But who never acquits freely,

Visiting the fathers’ guilt on their children,

and their children’s children,

to the third and fourth generations!”

This poem is repeated and quoted often throughout the rest of the Bible in order to describe YHWH. We’ll explore it more in-depth in a moment, but for now what I want you to take away from it is that YHWH is a God of Love – slow to anger and quick to forgive and devoted to his people. This love, it seems, extends even to the marginalized, the poor, the needy.

Just because YHWH is slow to anger doesn’t mean that he never gets angry. Once we leave the Torah we find countless places in the books of the Prophets in which YHWH expresses his extreme rage against the Israelites. They are not upholding tzedakah, he says!

But when YHWH is railing against the injustice in Israel through his prophets, it never seems to be about the individual, small-scale failings of the people.

It’s never the fault of that sinful Sarah down the street,

or that girl Rahab who lives in the tenement housing,

or the dude who begs on the street corner for handouts.

It’s never that the widow didn’t try hard enough to improve her situation,

or that the orphan didn’t look hard enough for a job,

or that the alien should have just stayed where he came from.

When YHWH says in Exodus 34 that he visits “the fathers’ guilt on their children” – a lot of ink has been spilled over that, but I’ve never seen anyone point out the obvious fact that both “fathers” and “children” are plural. After all, YHWH says in Ezekiel 18:20 that “The soul that sins – it shall be put to death. The son must not carry the guilt of the father...” Guilt is not genetically transmittable on the individual level. When a father sins, his son has nothing to do with it. But when fathers sin – when an entire generation of a people group takes part in a rebellion against the will and love of YHWH – well, they will be lucky if the effects of that sin have dissipated by the third or fourth generation.

That’s why when YHWH denounces the sin of Israel through the prophets, he consistently always addresses the leading generations, the rich, the wealthy, the upper class, and the people in power. And his indictments are not that they have let too much go unpunished – his constant grief against the upper class of Israel is that they have let too many go unhelped.

They have neglected the poor. (Isaiah 10:1-2)

They have oppressed the widow. (Jeremiah 22:3)

They have abandoned the cause of the orphan. (Psalm 94:6)

They have abused the alien. (Ezekiel 22:7)

In a moment of superb righteous indignation

the prophet Micah asks,

“What do you think YHWH requires from you?”

All YHWH requires is that you

“Seek justice,

Love Mercy,

And Walk in Humility with your God.”

The contractual commands of the Torah to uphold tzedakah, to practice justice, are not a command to see how many whores and sinners can be stoned to death.

They are a command to take care of the people who otherwise won’t be taken care of.

They are a command to notice the everyday problems and struggles of those who have less than you do.

They are a command to redeem.

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kuriquinn · 7 years ago

Text

Walk A Mile [6/?]

Cover & Disclaimer

Chapter Beta: Sakura’s Unicorn

“Stop pacing. It’s making me dizzy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t care.”

“Rude. I’ve never met anyone more ornery or uncouth in my life.”

“Yeah? Take a look in the mirror, pal!”

Naruto and Condor glare at one another. Naruto sticks out his tongue while Condor pulls down his lower eyelid at him then they turn their backs on one another, resuming their previous behaviours: Naruto paces back and forth while Condor perches irritably on the couch, knees tucked up under his chest and elbows close to his sides.

They’ve been left to their own devices in the Hokage’s chamber while the old man makes their ‘super-secret arrangements.’ At least, that’s what Naruto is calling them in his head because ‘babysitting’ sounds much worse.

“I hate this,” he grumbles. His stomach echoes the sentiment. “And I’m hungry again. And bored. Where the hell is the old guy because I gotta go to the bathroom!”

“Then go,” Condor says, examining his fingernails in a gesture that is way too feminine to be allowed with Naruto’s body.

“I can’t exactly fit in the can with this big bird-ass!”

Condor rolls his eyes like he’s completely missing the point, and fixes him with a pointed stare.

The penny drops and Naruto sniggers. “Oh, man, that’d be a story to tell! Taking a massive crap in the Hokage’s house?!” He giggles and looks around. “I’d have to do it somewhere really hard to find, so it’d stick around for weeks! Like under the couch, or in a cupboard, or something!”

“You’re absolutely charming,” Condor tells him, wrinkling his nose. “Only a human could be pleased at the thought of defecating in a wardrobe.”

“I would appreciate it if you refrained from that sort of behaviour,” the tired voice of the Third Hokage interrupts, and Naruto snaps into standing attention as the old man reappears in the entranceway.

“It was his idea,” he says immediately, pointing at Condor when he remembers that the Hokage can’t actually understand him.

Condor sticks out his tongue.

“I really don’t care whose idea it was, don’t do it,” Lord Third says abruptly. “Now smarten yourselves up. I have someone I want to introduce you to.”

He steps aside, and a second man enters the room. He is much younger with almond-shaped, black eyes and short brown hair that’s tucked behind a happuri-style forehead protector, the like of which Naruto has only ever seen on the great stone face of the Second Hokage.

“This is your handler for the time being,” Lord Third introduces.

“Handler?” Naruto echoes, wrinkling his nose – or beak, or whatever.

Condor shoots the newcomer a piercing, up-down glance and then turns to the old man. “He looks like a weirdo.” The stranger facefaults. “Lord Hokage, I demand someone who looks more imposing than this…this waif.”

“You can call me Yamato,” the man tells him stiffly.

“Can?” Condor challenges.

“Does that mean it isn’t your real name?” Naruto demands. “Yeah, that’s not creepy at all…”

“Lord Third, I really must protest – how am I supposed to trust my protector when I don’t even know his name?” Condor demands. “That’s a mark of polite society, you know. Even among birds, sharing one’s name is a mark of respect!”

“Yeah!” Naruto echoes.

“Shut up. No one was talking to you.”

“You shut up first! You’re the one running your mouth!”

The man known as Yamato blinks and says to Lord Third, “I see what you mean.”

The Hokage sighs wearily then clears his throat. “Captain Yamato will be escorting you to your safe location and keeping an eye on you while you adjust to your…situation. Hopefully, it won’t take very long, but in the event that it does, we’ve procured an abandoned farmhouse for you to –”

“A farmhouse?” Condor interrupts, scandalised.

“A barn?!” Naruto demands. “That’s it? That’s your grand plan for us? To hide out in a shack somewhere until this blows over?!”

“I’m trying not to be insulted,” Condor sneers.

“Screw that! I am insulted! Why don’t we just stay in my apartment?!”

“Yes. Certainly, the smelly one’s hovel would be preferable to a cowshed.”

“No, the location we’ve found for you is better,” Lord Third says. “It’s protected by the same barrier that keeps the village safe, although on a smaller scale. And the property itself is perfect for your unique situation. There’s enough space for you both to adjust to the changes in your bodies, and their respective…er…needs.”

“And there will be space for your teammates to visit and train as well,” Yamato says. “I know Kakashi will want you to keep practicing even more to make up for what’s going on with you guys. More importantly, you two are comrades. You have to learn to get along with each other if you want to have any chance of functioning.”

Naruto scowls at the two men and, after a beat of silence, says, “Tell him I’m going to shit on his foot.”

“Get in line,” Condor growls back, hands on his hips, chin jutting out at Yamato. “You expect me to be comrades with that?” He points at Naruto.

“Hey!”

Lord Third opens his mouth, presumably to say something threatening or to start another lecture, but Yamato raises a hand.

“If I may?” he asks the old man.

Lord Third nods.

Yamato strides forward, a calm expression on his face, until he is within two feet of Naruto and Condor. He looks them both in the eye as he speaks.

“Rest assured, I prefer the kinder, gentler approach. But believe me –” his expression darkens, eyes somehow becoming sinister and hollow, and there’s an ominous tone in his voice that makes Naruto’s feathers ruffle in sudden, inexplicable panic, “ – I’ll use more Draconian methods when it’s necessary. Got it?”

“Waaaaugh!”

Naruto and Condor both stagger back a few steps.

“G-got it,” they both chorus.

What the hell is with the freaky-ass look?!

“Now, would you rather spend the day crammed in a wooden box acquainting yourselves with the meaning of teamwork, or enjoy a night on a quaint homestead with food, a roof, and plumbing?” the man continues.

Condor and Naruto exchange looks, nod stiffly, and chorus, “Homestead.”

Yamato nods, satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”

I’m not going to survive this, Naruto thinks.

ナルト

Sakura is not sure what she expected Kakashi’s apartment to look like, but somehow this was not it.

The place is tiny and surprisingly spartan, consisting of an eat-in kitchen and living area crammed together, a washroom, and one bedroom.

Then again, her experience with men is limited to her own father (an absent-minded layabout) and her teammates (a slob and a perfectionist), so it’s not like she’d have much to compare it to.

“Do you want some tea or a sandwich?” Kakashi asks, wandering over to his fridge to peer inside.

Her stomach growls again – Geez, Sasuke is always hungry! – and she admits, “That would be nice.”

“…because I don’t have either of those things,” her teacher finishes, closing the door and rubbing tiredly at his eye. Apologetically, he continues “I should have gone shopping before we left. I don’t really get a lot of visitors.

“At least, not ones with stomachs,” Sakura suggests.

“Something like that,” he agrees, amused by something, and then shakes his head. “Never mind. I’ll order something in for you. But before that – we should talk. Go put your bag in my room, that’s where you’ll be staying.”

“No. It’s all right, I don’t –”

“I’ve slept on worse things than the couch. It’s not up for discussion. Now hurry up. I want to talk to you before I pass out for the day.”

Sakura does as she’s told, wandering into the room to put her things down, barely taking in the spare furnishings, and hurrying back out. Kakashi is having a quick conversation with one of his ninja hounds who mutters about being turned into a delivery boy before disappearing in a puff of smoke.

“I hope you don’t mind eating yōshoku. He’s got a preference, and since I sent him on such an errand, it seemed best to let him choose,” Kakashi says with a shrug.

“Uh, no. That’s fine.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They are silent for a long while, and Sakura shifts uncomfortably. It feels weird to be with just Kakashi with neither of her teammates to command his attention. He must feel it, too, because he seems to be going out of his way to be nice to her.

This whole training thing isn’t going to work, if he’s going to treat me different from Sasuke –

“I wanted to apologise,” Kakashi says suddenly, which catches her completely off-guard. “It’s been pointed out to me that I’ve been neglecting your training needs.”

Well. She wasn’t expecting him to address that so quickly.

“Oh. I…” she trails off, not quite sure what to say to that.

It’s reflex to deny it, and to insist she doesn’t need his help, but remembering her conversation with Sasuke earlier, she decides not to. If she’s going to get any stronger, she’s going to have to fight for it, and that includes not being as accommodating and humble as girls are usually taught to be.

“There’s no excuse for it,” Kakashi goes on. “Although, in my defense, you’re talented enough that I didn’t think you needed it. Also…” He shifts uncomfortably here. “You’re the first girl who’s ever been assigned to me, let alone that I’ve had to speak to for prolonged periods of time. It’s required some adaptation.”

Sakura stares at him for a beat and then grins. “Who knew the great Kakashi was afraid of little girls?”

“That’s not – that’s not what I –” Kakashi begins, and even beneath the mask he looks so utterly confused about whether he should be offended or defensive that Sakura laughs. It’s the first thing she’s found truly funny all day, and something tense within her breaks.

Maybe this won’t be so bad.

Kakashi is staring at her now, thoughtful, and then shakes his head. “It’s uncanny…”

“What is?”

“Nothing. I just…haven’t seen that particular smile in many years.”

It takes her a moment to figure it out – he can’t be talking about Sasuke because Sasuke never smiles or laughs (barring the startled chuckles she pried out of him earlier). And he only just met Sasuke when their team formed, so he must mean –

Itachi Uchiha.

“Did you know him?” she asks, almost breathless with curiosity. She doesn’t know anything about Sasuke’s infamous brother, but considering Sasuke has made it his life’s mission to kill the man, she thinks she should probably get informed. He won’t tell her anything, of course, but maybe this is another avenue…

But Kakashi simply shakes his head and says, “That’s a conversation for another time. For now, I want to discuss your plans.”

“My plans?”

“You never gave me a concrete answer and, at the time, I didn’t expect any of you to pass, so I didn’t push it,” Kakashi says, making Sakura scowl because he could at least soften the blow of his words. “But if I’m to help you improve yourself, I need to know what your dreams for the future are.”

“Getting my body back would be a start,” she tells him. “That’s kind of a big one right now.”

“And after that?”

She shrugs, not exactly sure how to answer that.

“Let me put it this way – why do you want to be a shinobi, Sakura?”

“To serve the village,” she answers immediately.

“That’s the standard response that every Academy student is taught before they become genin,” he points out. “Dig deeper.”

“I guess it’s like with Naruto,” she says, hedging a little on the topic. “I want people to acknowledge me for me, even though I come from a civilian family.”

It’s mostly true, even if it’s not exactly for that reason.

A large part of her wish for acknowledgement is still directed as Sasuke, wanting his recognition, and she knows Kakashi knows this, too. It’s embarrassing and simplistic and selfish enough that she doesn’t want to say it out loud. Being a shinobi is supposed to be about more than any one person or any selfish motivations.

Wanting to impress your crush doesn’t feel like the right thing to drive a glowing shinobi career.

At the same time, she doesn’t want to outright admit that she’s been floundering a little lately. With how strong Naruto and Sasuke have been getting, she feels as if she’s holding them back.

Kakashi studies her again, tapping his chin, then nods to himself. “What are you the most afraid of?” he asks, suddenly switching tactics.

“Huh?”

“Just answer the question – don’t think about boys, or make-up, or clothes, or whatever it is girls your age think about –”

“If that’s all you think girls think about, it’s no wonder you suck at teaching me,” she deadpans.

“Focus on you. What is the worst thing that could ever happen to you?”

“Besides being trapped in someone else’s body, you mean?” Kakashi gives her an impatient look, and she sighs, trying to think. “Being left behind, I guess,” she muses slowly. “Or having to be left behind because I can’t be of use. Like…if someone I cared about was in trouble and I couldn’t do anything to help them.”

An image hits her of that day on the bridge in the Land of Waves. Of sitting over Sasuke’s body, staring at his lifeless eyes while blood trickled from his neck, not knowing whether she should remove the senbon or not. Not knowing if he was breathing or if she could – or should – check for a pulse, but knowing that if she didn’t do something, he would die.

“Not being able to do anything would…it is the worse thing that could happen to me.”

She remembers the sense of utter powerlessness as Naruto, the most unskilled of their group, threw his life on the line to avenge their teammate, and Kakashi spilled blood to get the upper hand against Zabuza and Haku.

It was the longest two hours of her life.

The whole time I was useless. Without them backing me up, I’m useless. And that’s the worst feeling in the world.

When she looks up, Kakashi’s eyes are crinkled in the manner she has come to associate with him smiling.

“Why does that make you happy?” she asks, suspicious.

“Because you just reminded me of someone else,” he tells her, and from the lack of ominous tone lacing his words, she suspects it’s not an international murderer like before. “Wanting to protect the people important to you is a far more admirable goal than most. And it’s encouraging that you can come to that conclusion so young. It takes most shinobi years before they realise that – if they do at all.”

“You got that all from me remembering one bad day?” she asks, impressed.

“Give me some credit,” Kakashi deadpans. “I’ve been observing you as much as the others these past few months, even if I’ve had to concentrate more on them. I feel confident enough saying that helping people is part of who you are, whether you choose the life of a shinobi or not.”

Sakura blushes at the praise.

“That being said, the shinobi life is harder for those who strive to protect others because it leads to making very tough decisions,” Kakashi goes on, the complimentary tone fading into warning. “Often, in a split second. They can’t freeze up.”

“Right…” Sakura says, a little uncertain about this because her track record in that respect hasn’t been very good.

“I take it you don’t just want to keep people from getting hurt – you want to help them if they do get hurt,” Kakashi suggests, and when Sakura nods, he goes on, “That makes me think that medical ninjutsu might be an area of interest to you. It can be used effectively to save the lives of those you care about – and when properly trained, it can be used offensively as well.”

Sakura considers it, trying to remember everything she’s ever learned about medical ninjutsu. In theory, it sounds good…

“If it’s something you’re interested in, the earlier you start, the better. Which means discussing it with Sasuke as, while he’s in your body, he’s going to have to do most of the practical work. You’ll have to be familiar enough with the theory that, by the time you get your body back, you don’t have to relearn it all.”

“You think I’ll be able to?” Sakura wonders.

“There isn’t a doubt in my mind. You’re the most intelligent member of this team.”

Sakura shifts, embarrassed. “No. Sasuke is.”

“Sasuke has the best memory on the squad, that’s true. But having a good memory doesn’t necessarily mean having a good understanding or critical thinking skills. When it comes to analysing problems and engineering solutions, you have him beat,” Kakashi tells her, and Sakura doesn’t bother suppressing the pleased smile that breaks out here. “Sasuke is like Naruto in that respect – they both see all problems as nails. They hammer them down, reacting instead of anticipating which, in the short-term, is useful, but in the long-run, can cause additional problems.”

“I…guess I never thought about it like that.”

“Second – when you’re actually in your body, you have excellent chakra control. Quite possibly better than mine, once you’ve perfected it,” Kakashi continues. “Add that to your ability to analyse a situation, you have a proficiency with genjutsu that could be further developed. I know you’ve been speaking to Kurenai lately.”

“A little,” Sakura admits. “But she’s usually busy with her team, so…”

“I’ll help you with what I can,” he promises. “In the meantime, it’s probably good that you and Sasuke will be working together more often, given that the Uchiha clan specialise in genjutsu. You’ll both get a chance to experience a different perspective on it which will be useful in the future.”

“Maybe for me, but I don’t think Sasuke would get anything from it – I mean, isn’t it kind of a downgrade, going from having a Sharingan to relying just on basic genjutsu?” Sakura wonders.

“Right now it doesn’t matter because he hasn’t learned to use any Sharingan genjutsu yet,” Kakashi says. “He operates on instinct – being in your body, he’ll have to learn to deconstruct the process if he wants to achieve results. You, however, have the analytical part down, and so, once you figure out how to activate the Sharingan, you’ll get a better understanding of how it works as you use it. It’s something no other non-Uchiha, besides me, has ever gotten a chance to do. And you’ll still have that knowledge once you get your body back. Can you imagine how seamless your dynamic will be if you have an understanding of his Sharingan? And that’s before we’ve even factored Naruto into the equation.”

Right. Naruto.

Sakura shifts uncomfortably, the truth about her teammate suddenly coming to the forefront.

“Kakashi-sensei,” she begins, uncertain how to broach the subject without sounding utterly callous. A second later, she decides there’s no way to do that properly and just goes on ahead. “If Naruto is…what we said he is, how…is that a good idea? For him to be, um, on a team and allowed out of the village and stuff? I mean, from what little I’ve read about jinchūriki, they can sometimes…uh…lose control? And don’t their villages usually guard them pretty strictly?”

To her surprise, Kakashi doesn’t look as if he is judging her for her question, but is contemplating how to answer it.

“They do,” he agrees, “and in the past, their movements were restricted greatly. But in the last few decades, it’s become more and more apparent that training them is in the best interest of the village. Every village is different, of course…”

“All this makes him sound like a weapon,” Sakura says darkly.

“You’re not wrong,” Kakashi says, and she shivers. “Does this change how you feel? What you said earlier?”

“He might be a total mess, but he’s our mess. Right, Sasuke?”

“No,” Sakura says slowly. “It’s just…really weird to think about. I mean, it’s Naruto. But he’s also got a demon in him…and it all makes sense, but at the same time, it’s just…” She gestures ineffectually, once again unable to articulate exactly how she feels about the whole thing.

“Confusion is natural,” Kakashi says. “It will take time to come to terms with it. You might even feel afraid sometimes when you think too hard on it. When that happens, come talk to me. Or if I’m not around, just remember that he didn’t have a choice in the matter. He wasn’t even a few hours old when the Fourth Hokage sealed the Nine-Tails inside of him.”

Sakura thinks back on all her memories of Naruto during their days at the Academy and the few times she saw him beforehand. She remembers the way people looked at him – the way they still look at him – as if he’s done something horrible when, in fact, he’s the reason the village is still standing. And all of it’s related to an event he can’t even remember.

A huge sense of wrongness hits her.

“How could someone do that to a baby?” Sakura demands. “All the books go on and on about what a hero Lord Fourth was, but that’s horrible! And where were Naruto’s parents? Why didn’t they stop him?”

Kakashi’s eye flashes with something like pain, and he says quietly, “Naruto’s parents were killed in the attack. They also didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

“Did you know them?” Sakura asks.

Kakashi nods. “I did. And I can tell you that they wanted him to be as normal and happy as possible. And he never had a chance at that until he was placed on the team with you and Sasuke.”

Which of course makes her feel even worse for how she treated Naruto before they were placed on the same squad.

“And now he’s stuck as an ostrich,” she says glumly, for the first time all day thinking maybe she and Sasuke didn’t get the worst consequence of the swap. “Will we be able to see him at all now that he’s off…wherever he is?”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Kakashi says, standing up heavily. “You’ll need to learn how to work with Condor, after all. As soon as you and Sasuke settle into some kind of routine, we’ll see about arranging some team-training exercises. But until then, you’ve got your own training to do. First and foremost – learning to urinate without dribbling on your or someone else’s feet.”

Sakura’s cheeks are instantly flaming. “Kakashi-sensei!”

ナルト

Wandering down the streets of Konoha, Sasuke decides he should’ve gotten Sakura to write down the directions to her house. He’s never actually been there before, but he figured it would be easy to follow her spoken directives.

He wasn’t counting on being too distracted by people staring at him.

Well, not everyone. Not really. But more people than usual. Villagers he supposes are Sakura’s neighbours and people who know her beam at him, waving and offering greetings. Sasuke still isn’t quite sold on the idea of smiling for no reason, but he mechanically raises his hand to return the wave or juts his head forward in a nod of greeting. If anyone looks like they’re about to engage him in conversation, he speeds up his pace or feigns deafness when they call out Sakura’s name.

Surprisingly, it’s worse when they don’t talk to him, but just try to make eye-contact – which is either really embarrassing or really creepy. He’s never actually considered that this could be a problem. Granted, he’s used to unwanted attention, but generally from a gaggle of girls his own age. Not –

Did the baker just leer at me? What the hell?! I’m thirteen! Sakura is thirteen!

No adult should be staring at a thirteen-year-old girl like that, and Sasuke’s immediate reaction is to shoot a warning glare in the man’s direction. Then he remembers that, at the moment, he can’t back up any threat with force because he has no idea how to use this body properly.

He decides he must be imagining things. He must be exaggerating people’s attention, especially disturbing attention like that, because he’s just hyper-aware of his new circumstances. All the same, he quickens his pace.

It takes far too long to finally arrive at the Haruno household. Even once he gets there, Sasuke stops at the front door and stares at it, abruptly hit by the realisation that, once he enters, there is no going back. There is no possible other strategy but to pretend to be Sakura.

There’s still time to find Kakashi and think up a better plan than this…

He isn’t just worried about the possibility of Sakura’s parents realising that he’s not who he is pretending to be. The fact of the matter is, it’s been five years since he’s interacted with parents of any type. As painful as it is being on his own, he’s gotten used to it. There’s a terrible freedom in not being held accountable to anyone –

And not having anyone nearby to notice when he’s upset.

If Sakura’s parents are anything like his own were, he’s not entirely sure he can maintain his composure, let alone keep them from noticing.

As he lingers uncertainly, trying to decide if he’s supposed to just let himself in or knock – people don’t knock at their own homes, idiot – the door is thrown open, and he is suddenly staring up at a kind-faced woman with blonde hair and Sakura’s green eyes.

“There you are!” she declares, and he finds himself dragged into a hug so quickly that he doesn’t have a chance to fend it off. There’s such a speedy casualness to it that, before he can reflexively tense up, the woman has pulled away. “You were supposed to be home yesterday. I was so worried! I had half a mind to ask Lord Third what was taking so long, but then your Dad reminded me that sometimes missions take a little longer than expected –”

Then the woman, who could only be Sakura’s mother, half-guides, half-pulls him into the house and shuts the door behind him. The smell of cooking and something floral fills the air, and the walls are brightly decorated with a more modern pattern than he is used to seeing in his own home.

Sasuke tries to suppress the instinctual need to make a run for it. If that inclination shows on his face, Mebuki Haruno doesn’t notice because she is still talking.

“ – although, in my day, C-rank missions were a lot more dangerous. So I told him, there’s a reason I’ve been worrying. You’d think that teacher of yours could at least send word that you were on your way – of course, I’ve heard he’s late for everything. I hope he doesn’t pass that bad habit onto you three – Sakura, shoes!”

Sasuke startles, so caught off-guard by the woman’s mile-a-minute ramble that he’s forgotten basic routine.

Damn it…

He slips out of Sakura’s sandals and puts them neatly beside the other pairs in the entrance.

“Hmph. At least I didn’t have to remind you not to leave them in the doorway,” Mebuki Haruno says, hands on her hips and a fond, yet exasperated, smile on her face. “Well, come on then. Say hello to your Dad before he heads off to work.”

The world around Sasuke rushes away for a moment, the warmth and brightness of the Haruno’s home coalescing into a different, long-forgotten warmth.

“Are you going to say ‘good morning’ to your father before he goes to work?” Mother asks as she passes him in the hallway.

“What’s the point?” Sasuke sighs, world-weary at eight-years-old. “He never even notices. He only ever cares about Big Brother.”

“You know that’s not true,” Mother soothes him. “Go on. He’ll have a much better day if he sees you before he leaves.”

“Sakura!”

Sasuke jumps, not realising that Mebuki is calling his borrowed name.

“I’m fine,” he says automatically, coming back to the present.

“Are you sure?” the woman asks, frowning. “You’re quiet – did you catch a cold while you were away from the village? I told you to bundle up at night, sweetheart. Let me check your temperature.”

She reaches for his forehead in a gesture that is eerily reminiscent of Sakura, and Sasuke ducks it with practiced ease.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, edging toward what he assumes to be the kitchen.

Inside, he finds a lanky, tall man – who appears taller because of his outrageous, gravity-defying hair – who must Sakura’s father. He’s the only other person Sasuke has ever seen with that particular shade of hair, although his is streaked with a lot of grey.

Kizashi Haruno throws his arms wide and beams up at Sasuke. “There’s my little girl! Come give your old man a hug!”

Sasuke freezes like a mouse staring up at a snake.

Shit. Shit! What do I do?!

If this man is anything like Sakura, he’s persistent, and smart. He’ll notice if Sasuke doesn’t hug him, but there is no way – no way! – that he’s going to do that, so the best tactic is –

Distraction!

“Did you two know about Naruto?” he blurts out because if there’s anything that will put an end to any familiar overtures or parental displays of affection, it’s bringing up the village secret that he’s not supposed to know.

Sakura’s parents wear carefully blank looks.

“Know what?” Mebuki asks.

Apparently, that’s where Sakura gets her inability to tell a lie…

“About his special…status,” Sasuke clarifies, narrowing his eyes to watch their reactions. This time the looks are knowing and resigned.

So, I was right about the villagers knowing about Naruto. Even civilians know what happened. It’s just us kids that they kept it from.

“The question is, what do you know?” Kizashi asks, all traces of humour disappearing.

“Sak – Sasuke and I found out today. Because of something to do with the mission,” Sasuke says cautiously.

“Well, that explains your mood today,” Mebuki sighs, going to stand behind her husband, hands on his shoulders like she’s drawing support from him.

“We know it’s a bit of a shock,” Sakura’s father agrees.

Sasuke wants to brush it off like it’s nothing because that’s what he would usually do even if he feels the contrary, but that’s probably not how Sakura would react. Instead, he forces back his natural inclination to stay quiet, and mumbles, “Yeah. Yeah, it was. I’m still…processing.”

Did that sound too technical for Sakura? No, she could easily say something like that, I think.

Besides, it seems like a pretty complete answer, without giving away too much. Furthermore, it has the benefit of being completely true for both him and Sakura. Sasuke noticed earlier from Sakura’s (his!) face that she wasn’t as comfortable about the revelation of Naruto’s status as she pretended in front of Kakashi and the Third Hokage.

“I’m surprised Kakashi mentioned it to you, though it’s probably for the best that you know.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Mebuki says, mouth turning down briefly. Her expression softens as she gazes at Sasuke. “If you want to talk about it, we’re here for you. Or did you want us to speak to someone about having you switch teams? I’m sure if it’s really a problem we can help…”

“What? No,” Sasuke says, a lot quicker than he would have expected from himself. Off their surprised expressions, he tries to backpedal. “Naruto’s an idiot, but he’s not…it’s not a problem.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Mebuki murmurs doubtfully.

“That’s a change from usual,” Kizashi snorts, “Usually, all you do is complain about him.”

“Shinobi get assigned to teams they don’t like all the time, and they have to adapt,” Sasuke says stiffly, and adds a little defensively, “I can deal with it.” He sees their eyes soften with pride, and it looks like Mebuki might reach for him again, so he hurriedly tries to deflect once more. “It might help to know more about it. All I know comes from what we studied in class.”

He doesn’t remember that night – he was only about four months old when the Nine-Tails attacked. Sakura, being a few months older, probably wasn’t old enough to form many opinions about that night either.

Kizashi’s face sobers and Sasuke is taken aback because, without the wide smile, there is a haunted, grim expression that Sasuke remembers his own father wearing long ago.

“It was a sad day,” the man says. “We lost a lot of good men and women.” He appears troubled for a moment, staring at something invisible to them. Then he shakes it off and, without warning of any kind, brightens. “And Sasuke?”

“What?” Sasuke says immediately before he realises he’s not being addressed, but talked about.

Mebuki playfully smacks her husband’s shoulder. “Kizashi, stop teasing her.”

“But I need to know,” Sakura’s father pretends to whine, cheery demeanour back. “Every day, we get an update. I need to know what absolutely earth-shattering feat the Rookie of the Year has performed today.”

Sasuke glares and opens his mouth before realising that Sakura’s father isn’t speaking with any of the sarcasm or resentment he’s heard from other boys at the Academy. Or from Naruto on a good day. It’s just good-natured teasing, and it makes him feel somewhat flustered.

His reaction appears to be the right one, in any case, because Sakura’s parents burst into amused laughter. He clenches his fist, annoyed that their humour is at his expense, but also at himself for almost forgetting the most obvious way to act like Sakura. He supposes he has to say something on the subject, but he refuses to hyperventilate about himself.

“Sasuke is…fine,” he hedges.

Even though I am anything but fine.

“Hm, she’s downgraded him from ‘amazing, talented, and the epitome of cool’ to just ‘fine,’” Kizashi ponders. “I think there might be trouble in paradise, dear.”

“Sh-sh-hh,” Mebuki giggles.

“I’m going to my room,” Sasuke says tersely because he can’t think of anything else to say.

“Oh, sweetheart. You know we’re only joking with you,” Mebuki soothes. “Honestly, if he’s so important to you, we should have him over for supper –”

“No,” Sasuke says immediately, at the same time that Kizashi says, “That would be awkward. As I would have to kill him.”

Sasuke glares at him. Bring it on, old man.

“Well, then, how about the whole team?” Sakura’s mother goes on. “We haven’t done that yet. I was just chatting with Yoshino the other day, and they’ve had Asuma and the rest of Shikamaru’s team over almost every other week. And those three are always together – the same way you’re always off with Sasuke and Naruto. I think a team dinner night would be fun.”

“It really wouldn’t,” Sasuke tells her unapologetically.

There are few things he can imagine which could be worse than a team dinner. And that’s on a normal day, not one where the entire team has swapped bodies.

“Well, we’ll talk about it later. Go wash up and we’ll have dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” Sasuke says, even though he is. He supposes he can find something to eat later when Sakura’s parents aren’t around to grill him with questions. When Mebuki shoots him a suspicious, concerned look, he backpedals – Mother used to look at Itachi like that – and says, “We ate before we got back to the village. Besides, I’m…tired.”

“Well, it has been a long few days,” Sakura’s mother muses. “All right, then. You go take a bit of a rest. I’ll leave a cold plate out for you.”

Sasuke sighs in relief and heads for the stairs he’d seen earlier.

“Just make sure you shower off all that road dust before you get into bed,” Mebuki calls after him. “I cleaned your sheets while you were away. Don’t you dare get them grimy!”

Which causes him to wince because, as necessary as it is, bathing is the last thing he wants to do right now.

Still…that could have gone a lot worse, he thinks to himself as he wanders upstairs.

Sasuke peeks into Sakura’s room before gingerly stepping inside, glad to note that the space is not as girly as he assumed it would be. He was preparing himself for pink tunics and other female clothing strewn around and, perhaps, a bed covered with dolls and plush toys. Other than a rose-coloured comforter on the bed, it’s rather plain and neat.

There are pictures on the walls – mostly landscapes – and, of course, her copy of their team photo sitting on her desk. Her largest piece of furniture is a sturdy bookshelf which, he notes with some surprise, is full of the same assortment of shinobi manuals and classic literature that he has in his own library at home.

Don’t know why that’s surprising, the voice in his head grumbles. He’s already acknowledged that Sakura’s smart; it’s just that he imagined she spent her free time reading more fashion magazines and romance novels. There are a few of the former, but not in the amount he expected.

It’s while he inspects the bathroom (and thank the gods for small mercies, it’s an en suite!) that his eyes begin to twitch at the sheer number of bottles and products lining the sink. There are even more containers stuffed into the cabinets, blaring puzzling name at him – primer, toner, foundation, volumizer, dry shampoo –

What the hell is ‘dry’ shampoo? Sasuke wonders, picking up the canister and depressing the button – and then coughing spastically at the cloud of aerosol that fills his lungs. He tosses it back into the cupboard. Poison, obviously…

It seems Sakura’s otherwise neat nature utterly fails when it comes to toiletries.

Eventually, he finds a few familiar items – a toothbrush, soap, and a washcloth – among the sea of bizarre girl-products.

At least, I know what to do with this, he thinks in relief, before glancing at himself in the mirror. Sakura’s face looks back at him, a familiar, apprehensive expression on her face. Except it’s him making it. He scowls, which makes her nose scrunch up and her freckles seem more pronounced than usual, and then takes a deep breath.

“Might as well get this over with,” he tells his reflection, wincing at the voice that isn’t his and turning on the faucet.

A beat later, while brushing Sakura’s teeth, he has a sudden burst of inspiration, and decides to switch off the light. There’s no window in here, and he can no longer see in the dark. It makes things a little better – there’s no chance of seeing any part of Sakura that she wouldn’t want him to see, and body-swap or not, he has enough awareness of his limbs to clean them without looking at them.

Trying not to accidentally brush any unfamiliar part of his body as he moves, he pulls off the grubby tunic and shorts and tosses them into what he assumes is the laundry hamper nearby. For a moment, he considers dealing with the underclothes as well, but shies away when it comes to the bra.

Tomorrow, he tells himself firmly, feeling on the counter for the washcloth and running it under the water.

He settles on a cursory wash, scrubbing away two days’ worth of dirt and grime as best he can with a cloth. Hands, feet, neck, elbows, knees, ears – any visible part of him.

Everything except for those areas.

Because he’s just not mentally ready to tackle that particularly disturbing experience today. Maybe after a good night’s sleep, after the shock wears off and he can think about things more…detachedly.

Satisfied, he leaves the bathroom – still not looking at the mirror there and managing to avoid the one in the bedroom, too – and begins to rummage around in Sakura’s wardrobe. He quickly shuts the first opened drawer, red-faced at the contents there, but the second one yields what appears to be mostly pajamas. Selecting the least feminine items within, he pulls on a light green t-shirt and shorts over Sakura’s underclothes, and spreads her comforter out on her bed. Once the wrinkles are obsessively straightened out, he closes the curtains and dutifully climbs beneath the blanket.

Resting his head on the pillow – her pillow – he stares blankly up at the ceiling. Something tells him sleep is a long way off.

I’m in Sakura’s bed, he thinks, gazing at the shadows cast across the ceiling.

He finds himself fighting the urge to burst into manic laughter.

つづく

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#naruto fanfiction #genin era #team 7 #eventual sasusaku #rating: teen #bodyswap #humour #drama #action'/adventure #kuriquinn #sasuke uchiha #sakura haruno #naruto uzumaki #kakashi hatake #condor the ninja ostrich

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