#i cant wait to see it in black and white this fight was so brutal in the anime. she killed that clown.

[cosmicrhetoric]

the way that the whole crew at all times is like "this is robin we like her she's very nice. but she DOES kill people haha she will kill you"

[idontevenknowifimahumanornot]

Unused bandaid [chapter 1]

I have this idea in mind where our pov is on the past, like back when mori wasnt the mafia boss. I wanted to self insert my oc as dazai parents.

So bassicly if mori and dazai parent met before mori met dazai,and the parent is a known powerfull ability user in a organization that once lead port mafia and other powerfull organization. i dont know how explain stuff but yeah thats bassicly it xd

Unused Bandaid

Chapter 1 "fuck up organization"

Gunshots, blood, screams and weep. It was really a brutal sceen.

The agency is at a panic, why? There was a report of a group attacking innocent people using a blood manupilation ability.

Kyouka perks up at this, she was bassicly shaking hearing this report. That got almost everyone in this agency worried about her reaction on said report.

It even made the president force ranpo to use his deduction 'ability' to give an answer on why shes acting like this.

"Her parent was killed by a blood manipulation ability" this shock everyone, everyone assume that kyouka parent died in a natural circumstances. So hearing this, dazai created a theory.

"It isnt normal for someone to be passificly killed by a group that contain a ability user, is kyouka parent a important figure in the underground?" Dazai ask.

"Theyre not known, but one of a famous choice of assasins in certant reigen" ranpo answer chewing with his snack.

Everyone almost tense up at this information, never guess kyouka parent is a assasins.

"Maybe we can get information from kyouka?" Atsushi suggest, tone a little hesitated

"Hm...but only if shes willing to talk ahout it" dazai gaze landed on kyouka, already recover from the shock.

"..im okay talking about it if it give us lead on the attacks..but i dont rlly remember it very well..since its when i was young..." she say softly,

"But...but ane-san might know...." continued kyouka, "ane-san?" Yosano ask.

"Its one of port mafia executer" ranpo chirp

"Why her?" Atsushi questioned.

"Because, atsushi-kun. kyouka works under her when she is in the port mafia" dazai answer, he gaze at the president with a knowing gaze

"So..we need to team up with port mafia again?" Kenji ask

"I guess so!~ oh i cant wait to see chuuya once more!" He say with a flattering smile

"Hm.. meeting ends, tommorow ill tell if ougai mori-dono say yes or no" fukuzawa say, dismissing the meeting.

All the member nod and exit the meeting room

13 year in the past

It was quite. If you ignore the screams of the fights outside.

It wasnt unpleasent for mori, it was normal actually.

Well what do you expect when your a underground famous doctor whom many organization wish to requite

The door was slam open, mori looks up unbother by the person barging in.

Stand, bleeding was a person with long dark brown hair with a blonde bangs.

Theyre clothe was a dark blue coat hanging on theyre shoulder, a simple white button up shirts with the sleeve roles up.

A tie was hanging on theyre neck, horribly tie up. Theyre black pant visibly stain with blood.

Theyre hand and neck was covered with bandaid, many looks like it was rip and a gust of wind can make them fell from the person skins.

A bandaid on theyre nose and a cracked glasses with bandaid to support.

'A bandaid waster' mori thinks as he put down his book

"What can i help for you?" The person took an angry steps yet mori still doesnt show any reaction of fear.

The figure stop abrubtly infront of mori, his face is emotionless and theyre brown eyes dangerously analyze mori closely.

They raise theyre legs, showing theyre inner thights, skin was rip and blood still gushing out of it.

There were a visible one bandaid despretly holding the two cuts togheter to hold the river of reds, yet sadly doesnt make a diffrent.

"The bandaid doesnt work" the figure mumble.

Mori cant hold it and laugh at the person

"Your a intresting indeed!" The figure stood there, now face looks dumbfound.

They continue to raise theyre legs and stare at the laughibg mori.

They began to pout, bother by his laughing figure.

The sway of theyre pony tail gave away theyre move, mori quckly swerve and avoid the kick that was falling.

"No violance in my office" mori say, his face completly change. His tone was cold

The person doesnt look guilty the little pout already gone by the second,they continue to stare and mori, who now grinning.

The person cant help as the corner of his mouth lifted,coldy grinning with mori.

"Tsushima yuuko" they tell theyre name, mori grin become wider.

"Ougai mori at your service"

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Operation Steel- Eye,”

This is probably the last bit I will be doing on this particular thread because I want to do more with it in the book version, but hopefully this will get you guys interested in how things turn out. 

They had gone through another attack. The rundi chairwoman had not been expecting it, but all of a sudden there were voices, and shouts, and people running this way and that, she had been hurriedly bundled into a truck and driven for over an hour in the opposite direction with no idea what was happening, and no one that seemed to want to tell her what was going on. When they finally stopped she was told there had been another attack, and they were trying to get her as far away from the fighting as possible.

They waited there for over half a day, and only began their return journey when a spotty call came in over their radio to drive them back. When they reached camp, a good portion of it had been damaged, especially alone the suwards side, though, as she got out of the truck, she was told they were lucky, and the ashfall cleared enough that their long range weapons became more effective, driving the Drev off for a time.

“However, I don’t think I need to tell you how imperative it is that we get operation steel-eye up and running.” The admiral was saying leading her through the camp, as the soldiers scrambled to repair and re-supply themselves for an attack that could happen at any moment. Ever since the supply ships had been able to get through the atmosphere, thing in camp were looking a little less bleak.

The wounded were better cared for, and the soldiers were receiving more rations. 

Though the ash was still a heavy nuisance, and kept the days mostly dark, they did have occasional times of clearance that allowed them to see the sun.

She moved into place behind the admiral, who had led them to the new medical tent, less of a tent now and more of a pop-up shelter, with reinforced siding, and an actual door. Stepping inside, she couldn’t help but gawk at the difference just a few days of supplies had made. The floors and walls were a uniform steel grey, and proper decontamination equipment was brought in to rinse ash from their bodies. Instead of suits to put over themselves they were washed off and given entirely new sets of clothes.

Stepping onto the ward was a much greater relief. The place was spotless clean, bright white lights shone in from above, and instead of rolled mats on the floor, there were cots, clean bandages, and monitoring machines hooked up to each of the wounded soldiers beeping away with their vital signs. Instead of moaning and pitiful whimpering from earlier, they were silent most of them asleep, all of them heavily drugged under vast swaths of pain killing medication. The first half of the room housed newly injured soldiers lying on cots their missing limbs bandaged and properly cleaned.

But the back of the room, well the back of the room was where things changed. 

The fruits of operation steel- eye. At least twenty soldiers, this being the first medical tent, she was told there were twenty more soldiers in the second.  They did not lay on open beds, but instead hung from the walls in various states of unconsciousness, pinned there by the thick metal contraptions welded to their bodies. A main rod of the metal was riveted down their backs curving around onto their hips and then locking at the knees, similarly with the arms.

Metal protrusions connected to the underarms and over the back of the hands. 

It was a strange sight, and made her rather nervous as she somehow felt the wrongness of the steel next to delicate skin and bone.

Theadmiral stepped forward to examine the sleeping soldiers, “We lost 20% of these brave men and women after the first few hours out from the operation. Bacterial meningitis, and the occasional paralysis. A few of them just stopped breathing, but that could have been a reaction to the medication. This is all we have left.

The rundi chair woman stepped forward looking up at the sleeping humans their eyes close, their faces so much more peaceful now. As per usual she was drawn to one human in particular, the only human that she actually knew on sight based on their history together, or their acquaintance.

From her reports, this human had been the first human ever to meet nonhuman life, and had been instrumental in language acquisition for their linguists, and now here he was reduced to nothing more than a piece of hardware to be upgraded and augmented for the purposes of better battle strategy

The thought made her sick and uneasy. The more she thought about it, the more she was coming to realize that the humans and the Drev had more in common than anyone else on this battlefield, both of them were unwaveringly brutal, the Drev with tearing off limbs…. And the humans continually asking their soldiers to give when they had already given so much. With this thought her eyes shot down towards the human’s new robotic leg still and silver in the painful overhead lights.

No other species had ever considered such a thing as an alternative option, adding machinery to bioology….. As far as she knew there was nothing human’s couldn’t replace, and that thought made her wonder…. How far could they go before there was no more human left before the machine took over completely?

As she thought looking up at the sleeping human the admiral came to stand next to her looking up at the face of the sleeping human.

Her eyes drifted downwards, noting a strange dissimilarity in one of the human’s arms. With one hand she pointed out, “What is that.”

He glanced towards, “Oh, well, that is a drug port.”

“A drug port?”

“He nodded, unfortunately due to our time constraints we cant let their injuries fully heal, which means we will be mainlining morphine during combat, but due to the nature of the side effects of morphine, we are going to have to pair it with a drug classified as a stimulant to keep alert during battle.” 

The rundi chairwoman shifted nervously, “I… not to question your methods admiral, but havent you asked enough from them. First they lose their limbs, then you splice them with robotics, and now you are keeping them drugged.” The admiral looked down at her with a cold unreadable expression, “You wanted us to win this war, and sometimes we have to do things that don’t make us sleep so well at night.” 

There was an awkward pause of silence between them, but she let it go.

What did she know.

The humans probably knew what they were doing.

***

Lieutenant Adam Vir woke slowly, but he did it without pain. 

In a somewhat drowsy haze, he floated upwards towards consciousness like one would float upwards through a pool of warm salt water. lights , beginning as big fuzzy circles, soon condensed themselves downwards into sharp points of light. The buzzing in his ears followed suit morphing and churning before turning dowards and sharpening out into a baseless echo. The echo that soon turned and warped again until, “Lieutenant, Lieutenant, can you hear me.”

The light jumped first to one eye and then the other.

He blinked past the pain squinting as he tried to make out the room ahead of him.

His fuzzy surroundings condensed, contracted, and then finally sharpened out, to the face of a woman. She was small petite, with black hair pulled up in a bun, and large, thick framed glasses. She had one hand on the side of his face as she flicked the light between his eyes.

He groaned slightly and shifted.

“There were are, that's good, can you focus here on the light and follow it please.” It took him a moment to comprehend what she was saying, but finally followed the little pen light with his eyes. She clicked it off andplaced it in her pocket, “Very good.” Reaching out she felt the side of his neck and up under his jaw, “Turn your head to the right…. Now left…. Now open your mouth…. Tilt your head back.” He did as told, though somewhat groggily. As he tried to tile his head back, he felt something strange flexing with him, “Very good, now can you wiggle your fingers for me.” He did as requested tilting his head down to look at his body, which he now realized was hanging upright instead of lying down. 

He blinked again, trying to push a haziness from his eyes as he squinted past his hands and down towards his legs. They were bare mostly, which is how he noticed the metal prosthetic so quickly. 

He missed her next couple of words as sounds and images came flooding back to him. Ashfall, a dark silhouette looming over him, the sharp point of a spear, and terrible horrible pain.

Something was beeping frantically off to his side.

A hand rested on his arm, “Come on back to us Lieutenant, you’re safe here.” He opened his eyes again looking over to find the admiral standing next to him, “There we go.”

He blinked again.

“How are you feeling?” The man asked

“Not… in pain.” He responded thickly

“Try flexing your toes.”

He did as told looking downwards. His left foot flexed just fine, but the right remained still. He grew sick felt his stomach churn.

“Hm that…. Wait, hold on there kid, we need to power it on.” A sudden relief washed over him as the woman bent down to engage the limb. The Admiral patted his shoulder, and suddenly his eyes widened, he could FEEL his leg, could feel the woman’s fingers as they moved across the metal, could feel it as if it was his own skin. 

He shivered, and then shuttered goosebumps erupting across his entire body. She looked up at him, “Can you feel that.”

He nodded dumbstruck, eyes wide.

“That's good, now do what the good lady says and try to raise your arms.” 

He did as told, and nearly clobbered himself in the head as his hands and arms flew upwards. He jolted in confusion, staring down at his arms in shock. He flexed hs fingers watching as tiny metal bits flexed with him clicking softly. He flexed his arm again and it felt as if he wasn’t even moving it, instead being dragged along by the metal frame which held his body.

He dropped his hands again.

“Reduce the response time on those,” the admiral ordered, “Let him get the hang of it first.” The woman adjusted something on the leg. He shivered again, feeling her fingers, the sensation was so real, he expected to look down and see his leg back, but predictably it was still metal.

“Go ahead and flex your toes now.” 

Nervously he did as asked,and this time the toes of the prosthetic twitched and then curled inwards. He moved one, and then the other and then rolled them tilting his head back and closing his eyes, feeling as if he was in ecstasy.

“Good.” All around him, the other soldiers were doing the same. Across the way, a soldier, who was missing three of her limbs had tears spilling down her face as she flexed her new arm.

Another was blinking through a robotic eye and speaking for the first time…. With a mechanical jaw.

“Lets lower him down slowly let him feel the ground. They rushed to do as told racing over to the wall and slowly lowering him towards the ground. His feet made contact with cold metal…. He could feel it, the cold through the soles of his feet, the only difference was that…. Without skin, he didn't feel that subtle deflection as skin puckered and flatted about objects.

He tried lifting the knee of the new leg, and it came as told. He flexed the ankle, and the foot moved seamlessly with it.

“Wow.”

It was almost as if his leg was back, almost as if….

Embers fell from the sky, and that dark shape moved closer to him fro the darkness.

A hand rested on his shoulder and he jerked away, “Stay with us lieutenant.” The admiral moved forward taking him by the shoulders, “Look at me.”

He did.

The other man’s eyes burned hungrily, “This is your chance…. For revenge, to make them pay for what they did to you.”

Adam nodded, but at the same time, something inside him felt very uneasy. IS revenge what he really wanted…. But of course it was… wasn’t it, that roach had taken his leg..? But shouldn't he feel more?

“And, you will help win the war, no more casualties, no more pain. You do this and it will all be over, you’ll have served the UNSC, the GA, and earth….. Can you do that for me?”

Of course the admiral was right.

“Yes sir.” 

[kyouxa]

Diabolik Lover Chaos Lineage: Ayato Sakamaki (Story 11)

Place: Scarlet Mansion — Living room

Reiji: You won’t be able to beat us. Did you forget that you lost last time already?

Ayato: I didn’t. This time you’ll lose. I’ll show you Ayato-sama‘s true abilities!

Yui: (After all, Ayato-kun is willing to fight! We weren’t planing on this at all)

Ayato-kun! That’s wrong! We weren‘t planing on fighting them!

Ayato: That’s right. You‘re not wrong at all but i‘ll get their memories back like this!

Yui: (What is that supposed to mean?)

Choices

1) — Don’t forget (black) 2) — Good luck (white)♡♡♡

— Don’t forget Yui: Don't forget the real purpose! We said we‘re not fighting them

Ayato: Shut up. I know that

— Good luck ♡

Yui: Good luck! You’re their real brother after all Ayato-kun, they should remember at least something

Ayato: ...Heh, I hope so too

Yui: (Im sure you’ll be fine. Believe in the bond between your Brothers)

end Choices

Reiji: What are you talking about? If you won’t come for me, I’ll come for you instead.

Ayato: Hey, wait! It’s not like that! We just came here to talk!

Both Shu and Reiji are having fake memories, which were planted in your heads by our father!

You haven‘t noticed it, but it’s something like your senses are discomforted or something!?

Reiji: If you’d think of what you just said, it’s stupid

Shu: I have no intention in believing such a silly story.

Yui: But everything Ayato-kun‘s saying is true!

For some reason we are gathered in this place we don’t know about and we’re supposed to fight ...

Reiji: This talk is cancelled now. Come on, fight me now!

*Reiji attacks Ayato*

Ayato: ...ugh!

Shu: ...ah... !

Ayato: ... Ngh! Fuck, why can’t you listen to what I say!

*Ayato attacks Shu*

Shu: I don’t want to hear it

*Shu attacks Ayato*

Ayato: That’s not good, they‘re not listening to me! Chichinasi come here

*Ayato grabs Yui*

Yui: Y-Yes!

(Ayato-kun, he’ll fight while holding into me ...! It's even harder like this… !)

Ayato: ... Ngh! Tch!

Reiji: Why don’t you just handle us Eve? Wouldn’t it be painful to fight against us while protecting her?

Ayato: ...Ngh… !

Yui: (Its like Reiji-san says. I think I'm getting in his way)

(I can’t stay with Ayato-kun like this...)

Shu: Heh, let her go

Ayato: Ngh! Fuck!

*something fell off*

Ayato: Ouch… What? Something fell from the shelf. Was it a lantern?

Yui: W-Wait there are flames spreading... !

Agh! The fire of the lantern’s burning up!  

Ayato: Tch! That’s not good. We‘re going to die if we stay here!

Hey, let’s stop the fight! We need to hurry up and escape! Shu! Reiji!

Shu: ...ngh...

Reiji: ...ah...

Ayato: Hey, what are you waiting for?!

Yui: (Whats wrong? Even if the flames are coming closer and closer, they both won‘t move ...!) 

Reiji: Ngh...

*Reiji faints*

Shu: ...Ngh? What is that?

*Shu faints*

Ayato: Hey, whats going on! I can‘t handle this flames alone! Stand up and do something!

Yui: Both of them fainted...

(Oh, but speaking of that, it was like this when Ayato's memories returned.)

(Symptoms like having a headache or fainting for no reason ...)

Ayato-kun! I think this is the same situation when your memories returned ...

Ayato: So you mean, their memories are coming back?

Ngh, the shelf is breaking! Look out!

*Ayato protects Yui*

Yui: Ngh!

(The nearby shelf burned down already! The flames are spreading with tremendous force)

Ayato: This is bad! The fire is spreading way too fast! We‘ll get locked in here like this!

For us vampires this is actually no problem, but for you as human this situation is pretty bad!

Yui: Ah...

Ayato: We need to get to a safe place! We’re going to die like this!

Yui: ...B-But

Ayato: What is it! We don’t have time

Yui: Now you might be able to get back the memories of Shu and Reiji-san

Ayato: Huh, what do you mean?!

Yui: They need to listen to you because of the fire, you may be able to restore their memories if you do well! 

Ayato: ...That might be true

Yui: Yes. I'm having a strong physical feeling about that —

It may be a chance to remove the lid of their memories, right? If you try to recall on two or more …

Ayato: They might return. But we don‘t have much time. If it won‘t happen quickly, the house will burn down 

Yui: Yes

Shu-san! Reiji-san! Wake up… ahem, ahem, ahem!

(I can‘t get air anymore... ! My consciousness is also getting weaker!)

Ayato-kun… ahem, ahem, ahem

Ayato: Hey, are you okay!? Is it because of the smoke?! Seems like we dont have more time

Shu! Reiji! We won‘t go without you two! Get up now!

Are you two really that weak? I cant remember the eldest Sakamaki Brothers being such nuisance!

Shu: ...

Reiji: ...

Yui: (Can‘t they hear us? We‘ll die if we can‘t get out quickly ...!)

Ayato: Really, those guys

Yui: Look, the pillar is breaking... ! 

(It will fall down on those two like this ...!)

Ayato: Look out!

Here!

*Ayato breaks the pillar*

Yui: Ayato-kun — !

Ayato: Hey, you two — !

Reiji: W-What is...

Ayato: There’s no time for that! You still don’t accept me as your brother, do you!?

What happened to your usual bossy attitude all of the sudden! I won’t forgive you for being like this!

Reiji: ...Ngh!

Shu: ...

Reiji: ...Ayato... ?

Yui: ...Hn!!

(Just now, he said Ayato...)

(That probably means... Reiji-san's memories returned —!)

Ayato: It's really getting serious! It‘s crumbling more and more!

We’ll leave now! Reiji! Shu! Are you awake now!?

Reiji: ...I woke up quite a long time ago. I will escape from here as well. ...Ngh...

Yui: Reiji-san are you okay?

Reiji: Yes, I’m fine. I just got a little headache. Now come Shu, let’s escape from here

Shu: ... Reiji...

Reiji: ... ?!

Yui: Shu-san... ? No way, are you okay!?

Ayato-kun, you need to help Shu-san...

Ayato: What are you talking about! Hey, Shu! Come on, lend me your hand...

Reiji: No, that’s not necessary

Ayato: Hah? What are you saying! I won’t leave him behind!

Reiji: *sigh* I really hate him from the bottom of my heart, but I can’t help it. Now Shu, turn your arm around my shoulder

Shu: ...Y-Yes

Yui: Reiji-san!

Reiji: This is the first and last time I’ll help you. I refuse to do such a thing ever again

Yui: (That’s good. Shu-san will escape together with Reiji-san)

Ayato: Yui, we’re leaving too!

*Ayato grabs Yui*

Yui: Kya!

Ayato: If you hold into me we can escape way faster. Just don’t lose your grips 

Yui: ...Yes. Thank you

Ayato: Okay, we’ll escape through the window! ...Ngh... !

Yui: Ah, Ayato-kun that burn mark... ! Did the fire hit you awhile ago!? 

Ayato: It’s really nothing you should worry about. We need to escape from here now! Yui, we‘ll get going now!

Yui: Yes!

*window breaks*

Place: Scarlet Mansion — Outside

Subaru: Hey, what was that sound just now?

Kanato: How should I know? But as you can see the mansion's burning 

Laito: That’s true. I wonder what happened inside there?

*time passes*

Subaru: I wonder what happened inside there.. ? I wonder if they all are okay

Kanato: Oh, they seem to be alive 

Ayato: Huff, Huff, Huff... we made it. I thought we’re going to die in there...

Yui: Huh?

Ayato: I’m alright. It’s not like anything can stop Ayato-sama at this time

Yui: Well that’s true! Thank you so much for protecting me!

But, what about your burns? Are they hurting a lot!?

Ayato: Nah, I can handle them

Yui: I see...

(During that blazing, he got away with me ... I'm sure he’s trying to act like he’s okay)

Ayato: I still wonder how those two are doing in their situation

Reiji: Ngh... Huff

*Reiji collapses*

Shu: Huff...Huff...

*Shu collapses*

Ayato: Talking about them, we were waiting you know?

Reiji: Huff... We’re glad you decided to wait. We were close to die in there.

Shu: ...Alive

Yui: (I’m happy... somehow we all managed to escape —)

(Without Ayato-kun's words, neither Reiji nor Shu would’ve been safe now)

(After all, I had Ayato-kun with me, who encouraged me the whole time)  

Subaru: Hey, what happened in that mansion just now?

Laito: Yes Yes. Was everything settled?

Kanato: What's actually going on?  Why did you get away with Scarlet's eldest and second eldest son?

Ayato: It's still a mess. The detailed circumstances will be postponed.  There is something we need to do before that 

Yui: ...Yes. You’re right

(We need to check if their memories really returned —)

Shu-san, Reiji-san, do you remember us?

(Since I heard a good response to it earlier, maybe their memories are back) 

(Please, I want them to remember who they are and their real memories —)

Reiji: I finally managed to understand the situstion. I expected our brother to come to my Mansion with quite an annoying scandal.

Yui: Reiji-san... ! You do remember everything!

Ayato: Hehe, an annoying scandal he says. You’re not really wrong

Yui: Ayato-kun! You don’t need to say it like that! 

Ayato: No, I mean it as I said. After all I changed a lot after I met you again

Its your fault that my actions turned out like that thats why youre taking the responsibilities for me, right?

Yui: Uhm, what...

Shu: *sigh* what a mess. Stop being so noisy...

Yui: Shu-san!

Ayato: Heh, seems like your memories are back as well. All thanks to the great me. You should thank me now!

Shu: I´d rather go insane then thanking you for this

Ayato: What you mean!? You can’t even say thanks even tho I saved you!

Shu: Don't make such loud noises. I still have a headache

Yui: (I don’t know the detailed circumstances, but that fire may have shaken the memories of those two)

(Because of that, the lid of their memories finally came off) 

Reiji: I should appologize for my behavior but Im all fine now. Lets work together from now on

Shu: My headache is fading as well

Reiji: Still, I need to thank you for something. We´ve been close to be covered from a pillar which has fallen

Ayato: Oh, at least you´re brutal honest. Are you sure you´re okay since you´re being so nice to me?

Reiji: I dont want to be that way either. My brother who usually acts selfish, defended me so I felt like it

Shu: Including the burns you got from protecting us

Ayato: So seriously not a big deal. Chichinashi was worried about me too

Reiji: Not only that. It seems like I was doing a lot of ridiculous things while my memories were a mess

Yui: (Reiji-san...)

(I can forgive what he did because of how strange his memories were.)

Ayato: If you are saying that now. You should repay me with something once we got home

Reiji: Heh, if you don’t insist.  --Thank you… for your patience. I... Ngh..

*Reiji faints*

Shu: Ngh...

*Shu faints*

Yui: Reiji-san! Shu-san!

(They both fainted. Is it, because of the fire… ?) 

Subaru: Hey, what happened to them?

Ayato: Ah~ I understand them.  When my memories came back, I was as tired as they are now

Yui: Oh, I see.  Ayato-kun also lost consciousness when his memories returned

Ayato: Don't worry, let‘s find a place to rest for them.

Let's go to the forest for now. It would be problematic to stay here

Yui: Yes, that’s right!

Ayato: That’s why Subaru should carry Reiji and Shu

Subaru: Whats with you! Give me a fucking break already

Laito: That's right.  Apart from this, wouldn’t it be better to leave these two here? 

Kanato: I agree. I don’t understand the meaning of getting along

Ayato: Shut up! You still are my servants! Now follow my orders!

Laito: It is only Subaru-kun who became your servant. I have nothing to do with thaaat ~

Kanato: Then Subaru will carry those two spars. I dont have the slightest Intension to help Subaru, so enjoy the suffering

Subaru: Hey, don't push me only! They both are too heavy, even for me!

Yui: (Wow, all six brothers have been together like this for awhile)

(Subaru-kun, Laito-kun and Kanato-kun are still having strange memories ...)

(Let's find a way to return home... !)

[oops-prow-did-it-again]

Pokémon Black: The Novel - Chapter 6 (Amber’s Secrets)

Prologue and more info

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Pokémon Black: The Novel on FFN

Pokémon Black: The Novel on AO3

Pokémon Retold the series on AO3

---------------------------- WARNING: Discussion of mental illness/mention of suicide. Strong language.

Hil spent the next morning following the day training in the Dreamyard in the hostel at Striaton City’s Pokémon Center. Cheren and Bianca had already left an hour or so before, but Hil was only just sitting up in his bed. He had crashed in his day clothes and his hoodie clung to his frame in a cold sweat. He grimaced and pulled it off, flinging it to the floor. The rest of his clothes felt even worse against his skin. He walked over to his bag and rifled through it until he found another set of clothes—a plain white shirt, a pair of jeans that was probably several sizes too small, as well as undergarments—and tossed them on the bed. He then readied some various kinds of pokémon kibble he had bought from the store the prior evening and let his pokémon free, allowing them to roam the room and eat while he continued to get ready.

After a shower, he put on those fresh clothes, and took his daily clothes down to the public laundry room. After feeding the machine some cash and setting a timer for when it would be done, he returned to his room and flopped ungraciously on the bed. Noodle immediately jumped up onto the bed and curled up on his chest. Hil snorted and gently ran a hand down his back before scooting the Snivy off him gently.

“Okay, everyone,” Hil cleared his throat as he sat up, “I got a question.”

Noodle rested his head in Hil’s lap and looked up at him patiently. Roadie, Lucky, Crest, and his newest party member—a Munna named Sleepy he caught later in the evening following the incident in the Dreamyard with Team Plasma—followed suit. Roadie and Lucky sat on their haunches with their ears pricked; Crest partially climbed up Hil’s left leg. Sleepy, on the other hand, opted to merely glance in his direction from where she hovered a few feet away.

“You all understood that way better than I expected you to,” Hil mumbled. “Well, anyway… Uh, I’m gonna feel stupid explaining this,” he laughed. “So, there’s this thing, called the gym challenge.”

Nobody’s expression changed. Of course, Hil thought irritably at himself.

“Uh… to explain, um… Well, you see, you know what we were doing yesterday, training at the Dreamyard? It’s kinda like that, but the opponents are a lot stronger, and you usually gotta fight a few in a row without a break.” He waved his hands animatedly as he spoke and looked like he was performing the world’s worst game of charades. “And if you beat all eight of these gyms, there’s even more powerful pokémon you can battle, the Elite Four. And after that, the champion. It’s called the Pokémon League. But… it’s not required. And you don’t have to finish it if you start.”

Hil blinked as the awkward stares only felt like they grew more intense. Roadie began to chew on his leg a little before turning his attention back to Hil.

“So… I guess my question is, do you guys want to do that?” He pet Noodle on the head and smiled as Noodle trilled cutely under his touch. “I just… Noodle, that battle against N… you got really hurt and the opponents out there are only gonna get way harder. I don’t want to put you guys through pain like that if you don’t want to.”

Noodle abruptly pulled himself free of Hil’s grasp and hopped to the floor, adopting an attacking stance, his tail raised high and head lowered slightly. He shot some vines from his shoulders and gently tapped Lucky on the forehead. She jumped spastically, all of her violet fur puffing out, and then looked back at Noodle cautiously. Noodle gave a little encouraging hop and hiss, and then Lucky made a similar pose back, her fur smoothing out once again.

Roadie, Crest, and Sleepy even joined in on the mock fight. At least until Sleepy began to issue a sing-song sound that made everyone feel a little drowsy. Hil quickly called her name and asked her to please stop, and to his surprise, she did. Everyone then turned their attention back to Hil, and began to excitedly bounce around his feet. It was Noodle who rushed toward the door to the room and scratched at the door lightly, his eyes downturned in something of a pout.

“Okay, so am I right to take that as a yes, you guys want to take on the gym challenge?” Hil questioned with a raised brow. He honestly hadn’t expected them to understand him so clearly, or be so eager. Everyone gave an eager bounce in response to his question, Lucky landing in his lap and rolling over to show her belly to him. He had figured out yesterday it was a bad idea to take her invitation to pet it, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. “Alright then. Gym challenge it is. Gotta wait for my clothes, though. Sorry, Noodle,” he laughed as the Snivy hissed and stalked back over to him from the doorway.

 -----------------

Your Discussion with Vince

Vince

 why  did you text me just to tell me that youre pissed at me, youre always pissed  at me

 Me

 Well since you cant be fucked to pick up  the phone

Vince

 Maybe  Id pick it up more often if you wouldn’t be such a bitch

  Me

 strong words, big boy, mr. bug trainer

Vince

 What  do you want amber

  Me

 You had better call tonight. Hil’s going  to be here. You need to talk to him.

Vince

 I  will talk to him

 You  know I will

 It’s  you I don’t want to talk to

  Me

 Real mature Vincent

 That had been how all of Amber’s discussions with Vince had gone in the months leading up to his accident. They could have filled books with the myriad angry text messages sent back and forth, both too isolated from the rest of the world to find anyone else to confide in or take their stresses out on, and both fed up with and wounded by the other. It was such a tragic and brutal ending to a closeness Amber had hoped would last a lifetime as they had once vowed.

She had found herself scrolling through the texts again after a few failed attempts at reaching Hil through the Xtransceiver. It was so lonely without him at home anymore and she couldn’t shake the feeling he was ignoring her calls on purpose. She could understand why, but that didn’t make it hurt or upset her any less. She missed him. She missed them both.

She had met Vince on her own travels through Unova. He had been charming and goofy, taking joy in making her laugh. He was a much better trainer than she and helped her traverse Unova that much more easily. She had never really enjoyed the gym challenge that much and as such, had appreciated his help. He mowed through the gyms easily and it seemed nothing could stop him. Nothing could stop them. Each day was a new adventure and they always were on the move.

Vince never beat the champion, but he always would manage to beat at least one or two of the Elite Four. All that gave him pause from ambitiously pursuing his goal of displacing Champion Alder was finding out Amber was pregnant just a couple of years after they had met. He had been thrilled at the news, had doted on her endlessly, and used much of the cash he had amassed over his victories as a trainer to purchase their little home in Nuvema Town. They had decided jointly the quieter town would be perfect to settle down in. Amber had been especially happy to discover two other women in the town were also expecting—Shea Goode and Britney Achron, now better known as the mothers of Bianca and Cheren respectively.

Everything had seemed to be going so well. But that was where the record started skipping. No longer able to travel long distances due to needing to help Amber, Vince could no longer battle the tough opponents that gave him the cashflow he was used to. He took up odd jobs nearby—the Poké Mart in Accumula Town and Striaton City, a lab assistant in Nuvema, an assistant nurse at the Pokémon Center—but he’d always end up losing them in the end. He had a wanderlust that needed to be sated and the longer he sat still, the more he struggled. She had tried to be understanding at first and Vince had insisted he could handle it to help her and his son, but his actions never backed up his words. She had never been able to understand why he couldn’t just be happy with his homely life and settle in.

Despite their difficulties over the course of Hil’s younger years, up until he was about eleven, they managed to keep it mostly under wraps. Vince was still his boisterous self around his son, joking and having a good time, still managed to make ends meet. As Hil grew older, Vince realized he could travel farther distances since Amber didn’t need as much help, and so he did. He went on several week-long excursions deep into Unova’s heartland. Unlike when he was younger, however, he found battling exhausting and no longer as profitable as it had once been for him. He lost frequently and cut into their finances rather than gaining anything. Amber had been shocked and furious to discover that. In retrospect, he probably had just been out of practice… it had been years…

Oh, how she would have given anything to go back and change that scathing reaction. She was certain it had been what drove him to find a gym to train under. He had decided on Burgh in Castelia City since it was relatively nearby, and Burgh seemed to have himself better together than the Striaton City triplets or Lenora. It had been strenuous to get used to him being away for an entire week at a time, but she had been able to accept it on the condition that he came home over weekends.

After the first year, however, Vince had lamented he was making no progress at Burgh’s gym and he was still in the same class as some of the newest of trainers to the gym. Amber had blamed the fact it was a Bug-type gym. “You just can’t win with Bug-types,” she insisted. But Vince had just brushed her off.

“If that were the case, how is there a whole gym for them? One of Sinnoh’s Elite Four trains Bug-types. Bug-types aren’t bad. I’m bad,” Vince had groaned.

“Well, with that attitude…” Amber had mused.

“I’m going to start staying there most weekends.” Vince had spat that out quickly, as if ripping off a band-aid. That had been the precursor for the next two and a half years. Amber fought him on that tooth and nail. He wanted to stay at Castelia City constantly and send home money by mail to them, insisting he needed the time to focus and get better, and he could be far more of an inspiration to Hil if he wasn’t constantly flailing between jobs. Amber had taken her stance that him staying in Castelia would drive him insane due to his love for travel, and not only that, but he would neglect Amber and Hil both by doing so. Their arguing got them nowhere and Vince had upped and left in the middle of a Sunday night. Usually he didn’t leave to head to Castelia until Monday morning. He didn’t come back the next weekend.

That was when the calls began. No matter who initiated the calls, they always went the same. Amber would beg him to come home for the weekend. Vince would insist he couldn’t. The only thing that ever changed was how badly Amber reacted to him saying he couldn’t. At first, she had been openly upset and vulnerable with him, expressing her rawest feelings about it. That hadn’t worked. So later, she tried anger. She dug into him with a viciously sharp tongue. All that did was earn her self-deprecating comments.

“I’m sorry I can’t be enough for you,” he would shoot at her through the phone, his voice quivering and tense with emotion. “I don’t want to come home, this mess that I am, to you and Hil, okay? Just let me do this, Amber.”

“You’re only a mess because you won’t fucking come home!” Amber had snarled. “Just admit it. You don’t care.”

“That is not true!” Vince would practically wail. “Look, I’ve—”

“What, got to go?” Amber had sneered. “That’s right, Vince, run away. Find somewhere else to be. That’s all your good for.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s all I am good for! You happy now?” Vince had spat. She could tell he was crying now. It didn’t stop her.

“I’m sure Hil would love to hear all about that,” she had growled.

“Don’t you dare bring him up into this!” Vince had hissed. She could still tell he was sobbing, but between gasps for air to support his strangled lungs, he radiated rage. “This is not something that involves him, Amber! This is between you and me! He is the best thing that ever happened to either one of us, don’t go messing with him just because you hate me!”

“Why? Don’t want him to know just how awful of a father you really are?” She had latched onto his anxieties and sank her fangs in. Her heart had always pounded wildly whenever she said such nasty things to him. They had felt necessary at the time—a kick in the rear to get him to see sense—but no matter how often she did it… he never did. After a while, she came to despise him for that. Why couldn’t he have just… listened to her for once? What was wrong with him?

That was just the thing, though, wasn’t it? She had torn him down, worn away all his defenses; she had truly been his downfall. She still had no idea what she should have done differently, but she knew she should have done something different… and then the threats started. Another conversation came to mind from across that accursed Xtransceiver. At least they never used the video feature. They had both learned that was an accident waiting to happen with how hot their tempers could run.

“Oh, great, you’re calling me to bitch me out again,” he had sighed, “what do you want, Amber?”

“Hil’s birthday is this Saturday.”

“You know I’ll be there for that. I don’t know why you felt you had to call and remind me.” That was true. Vince had never missed anything important for Hil.

“I don’t know, you’re never fucking here otherwise!” Amber had practically shrieked into the phone. She didn’t know what she had been expecting from that remark, she had just been frustrated and wanted to get to him. She heard clattering from the other end of the line and muffled words.

“Fucking, you made me drop the Xtransceiver, Amber! It’s expensive!” he whined in a hoarse tone. She recalled thinking it was strange his voice was so raspy. Now, she knew it to mean he had likely been crying for quite some time prior to her call. “You keep saying that, you keep saying I’m never there, and I do my best! I am doing my best! I am doing what I think will help us in the long run! Maybe I just shouldn’t try if it’s never going to get better, huh? Maybe I should just go and blow my brains out, huh? Would that make you happy, Amber? Would that do something for you?”

“Vincent, don’t fucking start,” Amber had growled, “It’s not funny and you wouldn’t do it, anyway. Oh, what would Hil think if you did?” she had asked darkly. She had never believed him for an instant and had again merely taken the opportunity to rake into him.

“Shut up about him!” Vince had fiercely screamed from the other end. It had then been her turn to nearly drop her Xtransceiver. The power in his voice had surprised her. She had shakily held the phone back up to her ear. “Everything I am doing is to try to make life better for him! He is the best part of me and my life! You don’t get to just use him as a pawn in your arguments! How dare you use him like that! He’s your son, too! Can’t you respect him, even if you can’t respect me? Leave him out of it!”

“…You’re delusional, and I’m tired of talking to you, Vince. You don’t make any sense,” she had answered, exasperated, tired of hearing his voice. She had all but blotted out his words, having not wanted to listen to him.

“You’ve got no problem forcing me to listen to you but when I talk to you, I get nothing,” Vince had whimpered. “Goodbye, Amber.” He had hung up with a decisive click.

That had been their last conversation. Amber had decided she simply didn’t care about him anymore enough to keep him talking and had tried to use Hil as leverage in her argument to get him to shut up. It had worked, even if she had gotten an earful prior to him hanging up. She had slept easily that night, like a baby, curled up in her soft bed, weighted comforter warming her up to her shoulders… She wouldn’t discover until noon the next day that Vince had spent that night in a cold, tiled bathroom floor in a pool of his own blood.

Amber set the Xtransciever down and felt the sadness pulling her down like chains. She made her way into the kitchen and thumbed a lock hanging from a small drawer at the very end of the countertops. She used her other hand to retrieve keys from her pocket and she shifted them until she found a thin silver key that unlocked the drawer. Sitting inside was a set of three crinkled, lined papers, scrawled in rushed, ragged handwriting she knew belonged to Vince. One of them was stained a light pink on the very bottom right corner.

They had addressed Hil and Hil only. She had never given them to her son. She had read through them and the train of thought was all over the place, but mostly, the letter was a massive apology. Vince had spent it apologizing for failing to do better, telling Hil that he had been a lesser man, and he hoped Hil would do better than he had. Part of her kept the notes hidden from Hil for the strong language and the fact they spoke of concepts Hil, at fourteen, wouldn’t understand. Another part of her kept them hidden for fear of Hil hating her if he knew the truth… Not to mention, since the notes blathered on and on about Hil himself, she knew how Hil would take them. He would take them as proof he was to blame for his father’s death if he had been so prevalent on Vince’s mind moments before he took his life.

Since most of her and Vince’s arguments were over the phone, Hil never got to hear his father’s side of the story. He had always sympathized with her prior to Vince’s accident, but even so, hadn’t hated Vince by any means. She had enjoyed that strenuous relationship. She didn’t want Hil disliking either one of them… admittedly, she took selfish pride in Hil’s sympathy. Perhaps Vince had been right about her, and she did drag Hil into their squabbles…

She had spent the time following Vince’s accident trying to be there for Hil, trying to appease him and do whatever she felt was necessary to make him happy. But she couldn’t deny that Vince was always on her mind and she knew somehow, her efforts were only serving to push Hil away. She had resigned herself to accepting Hil’s distancing, but she never stopped trying, and obsessively checked behind him to make sure there was no threat of him doing the same. Thankfully, guns were incredibly rare in the Unova region, but that didn’t stop her paranoia from driving her to rifle through Hil’s room from top to bottom. That had also brought about conflict between them.

It had been a mess, if she was entirely honest. All of it. So much glass had shattered, and she still was finding shards lodged in her feet as time went on. Would they ever escape this part of their lives? Or was this just how life was from now on out? Was this her punishment for being so callous and cold toward Vince?

She gave a resigned sigh and picked up the notes in the drawer, clutching them close to her chest. It was a punishment she’d willingly serve, seeing how she had been his angel of death.

[calleo-bricriu]

I mean, inevitably, you’ll catch me.

(( Cleaned up set of threads with @absintheabsence ; minor edits for spelling/clarity. This is definitely one of those stories Calleo should not tell @lamentedhope because that poor man is stressed enough as it is.

This would have been mid August, 1990. ))

“Hold still, I’m nearly finished-“ he murmurs it almost crossly, slightly muffled- his fingers twist again twice or so before he is satisfied enough to take the twine from his teeth, and he ties the braid in place with a complex series of knots. “There, now.” He gives the tail of it a gentle tug, before bending his silvered head to kiss the bottom most curl, just once. “Pretty as a rosebud.”

“If I’m any more still, I’ll have to stop breathing and even then parts of me are still going to move.” That was probably a lie but, if nothing else was clear at the moment, it was that Calleo seemed to never really be entirely still.

Something was always moving, at least a little bit.  He did, however, stop talking for a few seconds as that, at least, was likely to keep his head still for the moment.

When there was implicit permission to move again, Calleo turned around and canted his head, “If you somehow weren’t already aware, the only time I tie it back is if I’m expecting a duel.”

“That,” a stupidly playful grin that most definitely reached his voice left no question as to what he was skirting around directly asking, “is something you can interpret as you wish but, for the record: Nothing lethal within twelve hours of a hit, nothing permanently disfiguring, nothing permanently debilitating, anything else I can patch up myself.”

“Don’t humour me, and don’t patronise me, just fuck me up. I want to see how long it takes.”

It begins in a white-hot flash of teeth and anticipation before Calleo hits the floor for the first time, coming down hard on cracked stone. Grindelwald was on his feet faster than he ought to be given his age and the condition Calleo found him in, but then again, he’d been eating better these days.

The cherry wand moved in that gnarled old hand like a whip- of course, of course he would lead with the Cruciatus. Test the defenses with a brutal series of hooks and barbs that fall into a rhythm- short, short, long, short, long, short-

The younger man’s skin is steaming as though he’d been hit by lightning when he hears the Dark wizard speak, his voice barely more than a breath.

“Pretty little bird- I will do more than that. I am going to tear you apart.”

The first moment Calleo could do anything besides remembering to breathe, he laughed; a breathy, ragged laugh, but still a laugh.

“Do that again, only this time, at the end, turn the hooks around opposite, interlock them, then,” he gestured upward with a slightly shaky hand, “up, and apart. It’s much worse that way.”

He didn’t wait for a second hit, despite knowing it’d be an inevitability. The warding in the rooms may have prevented apparating out of the building (or even the room) but it didn’t stop it from within the room and that was the quickest way to get into a less direct position.

Behind would have been too obvious, and off to either side? Likely expected as well. Instead, he disappeared from the floor in a whirl of black, reappearing instantly directly in front of the older Wizard, “Don’t tell me, show me.”

A quick, vivid flash of red that seemed to be a strangely modified version of a blasting curse came off more as a distraction than an attempt at a point blank hit. Considering the first dumb thing that came out of his mouth, Calleo at least realised he probably ought to–for now–remain defensive, or at least try to dodge by keeping it easy to break line of sight.

Not that it’d do any good.

The wards covering the inside of the room did not seem the least bit pleased at the interaction; several had sprung to life, coiled and waiting to be allowed at what they were guarding, and were…immediately disarmed by Calleo with one gesture, the second wave of his wand killed all of the lighting, including any that might have dared to leak in from one of the windows, leaving the room unnaturally dark. One of Braxford’s spells.

The next cast was aimed partially on sound, partially on memory as to where Gellert had been standing prior, though Calleo didn’t intend to actually hit him, assuming he’d have moved by now. It did, however, tear a path through the stone floor, acting more as magical scattershot.

Grindelwald ducked down with the burst of red heat that flew past, shredding fingernails in its wake, singing hair; it’s knocked aside a split second later, but his knuckles are already smeared and burning. Back in the day, he’d dropped men that stood against him by the dozen without taking a scratch, but who’s to say what he’ll allow now when he needn’t fear shedding a little blood?

A heartbeat passes, words moving through the space between them, and the cell is drained of every last drop of light. The two might as well have been at the bottom of the ocean, might as well have been six feet underground. He can taste the drop in pressure as the warding designed to quell prisoner uprising is snapped apart, can feel it crackling in his ears, the air stinging his insides as he pulls in breath after shuddering, joyful breath.

Then comes the current through the floor like a small earthquake; in the next blink of an eye (unseen, of course) he’s atop the rickety desk, and the hiss of a thought from him is enough to stop it creaking under his weight.

The fellow knows what he’s doing, he’ll give him that much.

Grindelwald is more than disposed to take the clever thing’s advice- he’s a glutton for punishment, naturally, but it’s more than that, he knows, oh yes, does he ever know- but not right away.

(And it’s more than advice, he knows that too; candidly telling a body the things you want, the things you need in these intimate kinds of situations, especially with someone new, is something the importance of which just cannot be overstated.)

Delayed gratification is always the most delicious kind.

A vicious, swift movement of his wand hand like the serrated edge of a knife brings phantom teeth clamping down on the softest parts of the body, the most vulnerable, targeted even as they still lay trembling after the latest Unforgivable- the backs of the knees, the tender points behind the ears, the webbing of the fingers and toes.

-and there, right on the heels of it, right there is something new, something invasive and wrong, slipping in under the skin through the smallest of lacerations and beginning to move.

The desk gave away the other occupant’s position fairly easily, though Calleo knew he wasn’t bound to stay there for long.

Before he had a chance to take another shot–things–began biting at him. A sharp intake of breath was the best Grindelwald was going to get out of him for that. Calleo was rarely loud in any regard, after all.

While one part of him quickly ran through potential counters to whatever magic was biting and clawing at him, Calleo reoriented himself in an attempt to keep tags on where the spells were coming from.

Even spells that didn’t leave a direct trail of light to follow had a direction based on how and where they hit.

The movement under the areas that spell had been chewing, Calleo had to admit, was highly startling. He was also well trained enough not so much in dueling but in fighting to know that if he let it keep him still he was only making himself a bigger target. The things moving, to him, felt more unpleasant and terribly, terribly wrong than they did painful and it took a good amount of mental wherewithal to work on stopping (or worse, removing) whatever was happening while still paying majority attention to the actual duel at hand.

Calleo hadn’t heard any other movement and assumed Grindelwald hadn’t moved from the desk, but he wasn’t about to take that risk. Instead of adding light–and making himself an easier target–to the room, he re-activated and triggered one of the prison’s locating wards and had it do exactly what it was meant to do: Find its prisoner.

The next spell lit the room yellow for the split-second it took it to reach Grindelwald. As it passed the other Wizard, missing only by a fraction of an inch, the locating ward went dead, and the wall behind him simply was gone.

Not quietly, not disappeared, the explosion rocked the entire foundation of the tower and the curse itself didn’t just detonate an explosion, it continued chewing its way through the walls, causing the ceiling and roof they held up to waver and collapse not to rubble, but to a fine dust that laid dead where it fell; not even movement stirred it as it would regular dust, and, seconds later ate its way down to the floor.

The warding it chewed up in its path flared once the curse came close, then were torn apart as it passed.

Interestingly, it didn’t seem to be mindless destruction as the warding that was left dimly lit and crossed the empty air where its walls and floors used to be, filling them back in so escape from the prison still remained an annoying impossibility. Still, the specific negating and defensive warding had been left disarmed. Present, but off for the moment.

When it coiled back around toward Grindelwald, the colour gradually faded from yellow to a red that manifested itself as less a colour and more of a feeling; a vicious, burning cold, in spite of the color. It detonated near him at an angle Calleo was decent enough to make sure would knock him back toward the parts of the room that still had a functioning floor.

In its wake, the curse left a seething, grasping cold that did not dissipate the magic did. Anyone that crossed the path it had taken would be aware of the lingering presence.

Now, Calleo needed some time to put some distance between them and see if he could figure out if there were actual creatures ‘crawling’ in him or if it was an unsettling spell that wasn’t really causing any lasting damage.

The room, despite the violent removal of three walls, most of the roof, and half of the floor, remained dark.

That spell neither of them had moved out of the way. Yet.

Calleo knew full well how to end Braxford’s spell, but there was little fun in that. Instead, a swirling movement from his wand produced what would have been a spectacular Fiendfyre–if either of them could have seen it in the darkness. Being what it was, it was a certainty that they could both feel it, however.

Calleo didn’t stick around after the remainder of the room had been turned into a wall of black, magical flame, and disapparated, still running through anything he might know to counter what was, to him, unknown magic. If it weren’t so unsettling, he’d be impressed, but there would be time for being impressed by it later and after it wasn’t doing–whatever it was doing to him.

The door to the cell had, of course, been left opened and disarmed.

Blinded for that fraction of an instant, the old tyrant had fallen through to the stairway below, his shoulder and his hip coming down hard on merciless corners of stone; he bites back a swear now, and, as always, gets right back up again. Reactions not quite what they used to be, but that’s only to be expected.

The tower is broken, the walls are gone-

Not in decades has he breathed the night air without gasping out through the bars on a window narrower than the span of his hand like a man drowning.

They are gone-

Since he has known the bitter tang of this kind of cold, however, this particular taste of red that is more visceral than any mere word could ever tell you- that has been even longer still. The ringing absence that Excidium left in its wake, breathless and profound, was always something that could be felt in the teeth.

He never could have walked out that door of his own free will. Perhaps his new companion knew this. But either way, the choice has been made for him. The Blutmondhaarig have always been deliverers of fortune, good and ill; Grindelwald was all but ravenous with the thought of where this one might lead him, this one who bursts open the world when every way has been shut already.

His own curse is a lingering thing, line of sight or no; he can feel it as it does its good work. In former days, he had used it on hunts, and really this isn’t quite so different. It surges, carrying the sensation of strong fingers with their nails out sliding through muscle, through and through and all the way down to the bones, pressing deep and shoving apart. As it is, it makes movement difficult, but if he breathed another word it would have the power to render the clever Calleo Bricriu into something ready for a spit and a slow…

The Fiendfyre erupted spectacularly over his head, snatching the moisture from the air, from his mouth, from his eyes- but Grindelwald does not turn his face away, does not try to protect those parts of him that have grown so soft and brittle; he instead sets his teeth, seething through the broken gaps.

Lashing the wand whose old master’s handiwork this is, he captured the tail of the crackling, roaring beast, and draws it in. This he forges into coils of scorching rope, lurid and bright. His bony chest is heaving.

“Find him,” he tells it in a low hiss, and sends it firing off in the wake of an arrow that Bricriu ought to consider something of an old friend, if his writings are anything to go by.

The Skincrawl grows greedier, crueler, inner parts twisting and tugging and bleeding- until it finds its mark. Hungry tendrils snap tight around and bind him, ankle to ankle, wrist to waist, and the man is dragged down, down into the dark where Grindelwald stands waiting.

The chance that that fiery curse would harmlessly pass over him if he was dragged to the ground was…about at zero. There was a chaser on it, it would follow until it hit and a hit would be unpleasantly lethal.

Calleo had a split second to decide if he could maybe figure out a quick way out of whatever the unfamiliar spell trying to bind and drag him was or, while he could still move, at last knock the Sagitta Debilitatem off of the Fiendfyre; at that point, it might continue on it the direction it was going–and there was no guarantee he’d get that charm off of it before it had aimed itself properly at him.

Not really a tough decision, all things considered. He couldn’t fully move, but he could move enough to get that charm off the front of the curse and let himself fall to the stone floor as gracefully as possible–which really wasn’t very graceful at all, considering how little he could move.

The Fiendfyre itself hit and spread along one of the walls, burning through the warding and part of the alarm structure there. Wonderful! Except–not particularly.

Leaving that unchecked would be a problem, and was already causing the wards that hadn’t been burned out to regroup and rearm, again, focusing their aim on the prisoner they were designed to subdue.

He still had some movement in his hands, which he probably should have used to try and break himself free but, instead, he aimed it at those stupid wards that kept threatening to end the game as they weren’t quite smart enough to know that it was a game. They were reacting as they were designed, and as they were designed was inconvenient, Calleo shut them off.

They’d have to deal with the fire later as, now. Calleo couldn’t move at all, unless continued questionable decision making landed either of them on the idea of, “Hey, Ashwinders!”

Calleo had figured out, the moment whatever this was started doing what it was doing, that struggling against it would probably make it worse; no reason to think that beyond that was how these sorts of spells generally worked.

Most of them were a lot less unpleasant if you didn’t struggle.

So, he didn’t.

He let himself be dragged back to Grindelwald and, not wanting to let the other Wizard even get the slightest of ideas that this was over, “Too old to chase me, hm? I can slow down, if you’d like.”

Calleo knew damn well that was a stupid thing to say, which is entirely why he said it. He was more than aware that whatever was about to hit him would now likely be even worse than if he’d kept his mouth shut. For as much as the unpleasant spell binding him would let him, he relaxed; these things were always worse if one was tense, after all.

[michaelmyersmalewife]

LEVIATHAN | 14. The Coronation | MASTERLIST

words: 5k+

A/N: early chapter update because some family business came up so i'll be pretty busy for all of friday; with that aside, i cant believe we're already at this point,,,it all went by so fast and i cant wait to share the ending with you next monday !!

you can also support this fic on wattpad & ao3

Madison watched as her parents began to repair the ORCA.

It had been a long time since they had been together, and even longer since they had worked for a common purpose. It was weird, seeing them like this. It reminded her of how it was before - before they lost Andrew, when her father was sober, and before her mother lost touch with reality. They were becoming almost completely in sync, both working like crazy but somehow not getting in each other's way.

"You sure about this?" her mom asked.

"It's the only way to save him," her dad replied. "We fix it, get on the Osprey, and draw that thing away from Godzilla. Buy him time to get back on his feet."

Her dad connected a wire only to be met with a sharp snap of electricity. The ORCA's cracked screen flickered on for a second before turning back off. He cursed, looking at the device's inner workings with a confused gaze.

"Well this is new."

"I, uh, made a few changes while you were gone."

The Regulator, impatient, pushed her way through them, hands flying to work on the ORCA.

"Could you patch that cable there?" she said, eyes not leaving the jumbled mess of machinery as her mother joined her.

"And who are you?" her dad asked incredulously.

"That's not importa - no, the red one not the white!"

"Okay, okay!"

"You sure this thing is gonna work?" one of the Monarch soldiers asked.

No one bothered to answer. In fact, they were so caught up in their work that they probably hadn't even heard him. Her mother held up a piece of wire for the Regulator to solder, and Emma's hands flew straight for it like a machine.

"If you replace this five-pin, I can reset the transmitter and everything should work as normally as possible." the Regulator said.

No one had a chance to say anything in response before the ground began shaking again.

Behind them, Ghidorah was already on top of Godzilla, his heads snaking around his body. The heads at his side wrapped around him like coils while the center head bit into his neck. The other two followed suit, and with every bite Godzilla's glow grew weaker while Ghidorah's wounds closed up before vanishing completely. That was when Madison saw Ghidorah lift him up, and she could literally see the dragon absorbing the titan's life, Godzilla's internal fire glowing down all three of his throats. Godzilla let out a terrible, mournful cry. He was dying.

Hold on, big guy, she thought.

"Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast." Jodie said in a fearful tone.

"Are you good to go?" her dad asked.

The Regulator nodded. She set the solder, her mother sparked it, and her father flipped the switch.

"That's it!" he said, relief in his voice. "That's it."

Overhead, an Osprey descended toward them, floodlights illuminating the wreckage they stood amongst.

Her mom turned to her, gently holding her head in her hands and pressing a kiss to her forehead. Madison wasn't sure how to feel about the sudden act of affection, but there was too much that needed to be said, and there wasn't time for all of it.

"I love you, Maddie," her mother said. "I'm sorry."

All of the hurt, her feelings of betrayal, felt like a knot in Madison's stomach. A single sorry couldn't undo all that had been done, but it felt a little better now. It was a start.

"I love you too." she replied.

Madison knew that it was never going to be the same again. She could never go back to that kid who thought her mother had it all together, knew everything, understood what was best for everyone. No more than she thought of her father as perfect. But that was for the best, right? To finally live in reality and not some idealistic world she had created for herself.

The Osprey touched down, almost immediately her father ushered her toward it. Shortly after, Jodie and the two Monarch soldiers carried the wounded third aboard the rescue craft. Her mother held back, joining the Regulator in fiddling with the ORCA.

"C'mon, Emma, let's go!" her father shouted.

"Take her!" she yelled back, still messing with the controls. "I still have to activate it."

Her father gave her a skeptical look.

"I'm right behind you, just go!" she insisted before turning to the Regulator, the taller woman firmly grasping her wrist.

"Mom?" Madison called after her.

Before she could realize what was happening, Madison felt herself being lifted in her father's arms, suddenly finding herself coming closer to the Osprey. Over his shoulder, she saw her mom and the Regulator activate the ORCA, its heartbeat starting once again.

"Mom!"

That was when she saw the Regulator give her mother a strange look, shaking her head so lightly that Madison hardly noticed it. She mouthed something to her mother before finally she let go of the ORCA, taking a few hesitant steps backward before running toward the Osprey. Madison felt her mother's hand press itself against her back, fingers squeezing the fabric of her jacket.

In the distance, she heard a shriek. One by one Ghidorah's heads detached themselves from Godzilla, dropping his limp body to the ground and swung around, searching for the source of the sound they had come to hate. The only remaining threat to his rule.

Elena froze mid-step, just as she was about to board the Osprey.

All three of the monster's heads were trained on them, and with a terrible speed that shook the ground, he knocked down everything that was stopping him from getting to the ORCA. While they had managed to buy time for Godzilla, they were starting to run out of time themselves. Elena had already been face-to-face with this thing enough times to know that she didn't want to be in that position again. Ever. But while every inch of her body told her to run and hide, she felt nothing but hatred for the creature. Hatred and rage.

Fight it, she thought, thinking of Godzilla even though she knew there was no way for him to hear her. Madison believes in you, and goddammit so do I.

But that was when Ghidorah began to gallop, leaving buildings as nothing but piles of rubble.

"Maddie, thank god." she heard a woman with short black hair say as she lead them aboard the Osprey.

A white-haired man with glasses herded them inside before giving the pilot a thumbs-up. As they each buckled down, Elena almost did a double-take as a woman with long black hair pulled aside in a braid sat across from her, right next to the short-haired woman. They looked exactly alike, and they even seemed to mimic each other's movements. Looking around, taking a mental head count, Elena's brows furrowed.

One of them was missing. It didn't take long for her to realize it was the Regulator. Had she been left behind during the rush to be rescued?

"Hold on!" she yelled to the pilot.

Unbuckling herself, she moved to the front of the Osprey. Out of its doors, she saw that Ghidorah's pace was only quickening, more full of rage than ever. Elena's skin began to prickle.

"We gotta lift off, now." a woman in a military uniform responded. If Elena was remembering right, she wore the marks of a colonel.

The pilot obeyed the order from their superior, and the Osprey began to rise. But the Regulator still wasn't on board. Elena moved over to the door, reaching her arms out so that she could pull her up when she got there. She still wasn't moving, glued to the ORCA's side.

"Just grab it!" she yelled over the Osprey's whirring.

It was then that the Regulator's eyes met hers, and as she glanced back at the dragon barreling toward them, maws gaping and ready to tear the Osprey asunder - with them inside it - Elena had made a brutal realization.

If they stopped their lift-off to wait for her to get on board, none of them were going to make it. Even if they managed to get just a few yards off the ground, it wouldn't even matter if the ORCA was on board. Ghidorah would follow its sound wherever it went, and Elena knew that he was faster than their sorry little Osprey.

And if the ORCA was turned off, he'd follow them anyway - or rather, he'd follow her and Madison. And then he would return to finish off Godzilla.

She saw the Regulator's lips form words, she saw the smallest of smiles appear on her face. Sad and serene all at once.

Elena understood.

Walking away from the slowly closing door, she watched as the Regulator stepped into the jeep that Madison's parents had arrived in. As she drove away into the ruins of Boston, the Osprey rose higher. And as she suspected, Ghidorah turned to follow her, seemingly forgetting about the Osprey altogether.

Give him hell, she thought.

Sitting back down, Madison turned to her.

"Is she..?"

"She's setting things right."

_____

"It's alright," she said, knowing they couldn't possibly hear it over the sound of the Osprey and Ghidorah's stampede. "Just let me have this."

For so long, she had kept her feelings locked away where they could never interfere. Follow orders or be discarded. That was her life, the only life she was allowed to know. But standing in the ruins of the human city, it all came back to her with a frightening ease.

Never in her life had she had the courage - the willingness - to act. But this world, it stood apart from the other innocent planets she had been complacent in destroying. It stood a chance. And she'd be damned if she wasted the opportunity to right her wrongs, no matter the cost.

She saw Elena nod with that same serious face she always wore, brows knit together. Only this time, she bore a lopsided smile as a look a realization grew on her face.

Though no words had been exchanged, the Regulator had seen the same thought in Emma's eyes, but it was something she couldn't allow. She couldn't imagine being the one to live while someone who had been tricked so deviously into an unforgivable crime was the one to die. It was just the next logical step. She knew no one would stop her. Why would they? Up until then she was just another pawn in the Controller's game, a little toy soldier that could easily be replaced. And she was perfectly fine with the thought of dying. She had found a purpose, something she had chosen to do on her own terms.

She just wished she could've thanked Elena for that opportunity.

Taking the ORCA into her hands, she rushed to the car parked just outside where Madison's house had been. Laying the humming machine on the passenger seat, she started the engine and slammed her foot on the gas.

Taking a quick glance back, she saw that her plan was working. Ghidorah had taken a sharp turn, dismissing the Osprey and coming directly after her. His eyes shined in the dark, his usual draconic smirks replaced with furiously bared teeth.

Not this time, she thought. Never again.

She didn't know how far she would get, but she hoped that it would be far enough. The Osprey was already close to vanishing under the cover of smoke and ash that wafted through the air and into the clouds. Hoping that it would be enough was all she could do at that point.

But none of that would matter if Godzilla didn't wake up.

Was he dead? The last she had seen of him, he hadn't been moving, limp like a three-hundred-foot ragdoll. If he was, there was nothing they could do. Ghidorah was unstoppable - not even the Controller had power over the dragon. At the very least, if Elena and the rest survived, maybe they could find some way to stop him from tearing the world apart. Even though a part of her knew she wouldn't be around to see it all carried out. But she was undoing some part of the terrible damage she had allowed to take place, and though it couldn't possibly atone for the countless worlds before this, it was the most she could do. And that was alright with her.

The Regulator dodged piles of rubble, swerving down roads that weren't blocked by what used to be buildings, trying to stretch the time was surely running out.

She couldn't stop herself from looking out of the car's mirror, and just as she sped down a narrow path of skyscrapers she saw him. He was right behind her, no more than a meter or two away. His trilling shook her bones, and with each thud from his galloping the car jumped a few inches off of the ground. He was getting faster, as his middle head stretched farther from between his brothers and snapped his jaws at the car, barely missing her by mere feet.

Spinning the wheel, she went careening down a pile of burning debris before entering a flattened area. It was the end of the line.

At that moment, Ghidorah pounced into the air, wings kicking up smoldering rubble and knocking over a building with one misplaced flap of his wings as he hovered close behind. Her face bunched up into an expression of pure frustration as she pushed the pedal all the way down.

As he glided, the left head shot a bolt of lightning her way, striking the pavement just beside her. With an annoyed shriek, the right head tried next, toppling over the top half of a skyscraper as it fell right in front of her. She didn't have the chance to swerve out of the way as the middle head opened his jaws, sending a bolt of yellow lightning directly at the small, banged-up car that scrambled down the blocked road like a trapped mouse.

Everything flashed white.

The Regulator closed her eyes, let go of the wheel, and took a deep breath as a pain unlike anything she had ever felt jolted through her body, twisting every nerve and lighting up her skin like a match. It was like being shot with one of the stunners dialed to a hundred.

But the agony didn't last long. As it faded, she felt herself spin along with the car, rolling, bounding until finally it became propped against something. All she could hear was the sound of fire crackling all around her and the beat of Ghidorah's wings.

Opening her eyes, she found that she had been completely thrown from the car, pieces of glass and gravel imbedded in her skin. Not that it meant much to her. Everything was hurting, but everything was numb at the same time. But that was alright. It was just fine. Rolling over, she stared up at the Golden Demise that crouched low to where she lay, sniffing and snarling.

His signature sneer was back, something self-righteous and proud glinting in all of his eyes. But there was nothing about him that could frighten her in that moment, for there was nothing else he could possibly do to her.

Behind him, her eyes could barely make out a reddish-orange glow growing in intensity from behind him. It was different from the burning city around her. It was alive. Setting her head back down on the gravel, she smiled.

"Long..live....the king." she breathed.

Time to restore balance.

_____

As the Osprey rose above the battlefield, Jodie's gaze tracked the jeep where the strange woman inside vanished behind the thick cover of smoke or piles of debris before reappearing.

She hadn't known who she was, but she had seen her face somewhere before. It didn't quite click with her where at first, but as she watched the little car race out from behind a crushed building, it suddenly came to her. She was the merc that from Antarctica, the one that was holding an unconscious Elena. Why she had a sudden change of heart, she didn't know. But she did know that she had helped Madison and Elena, and that was enough for her to silently cheer her on.

That is, until Ghidorah swooped down on her like a hammer, blasting the jeep with his lightning. Energy wracked all around it, and the car went flying. After seeing Ghidorah drop low to the ground, heads slithering toward where the jeep had stopped, Jodie looked away.

"Jesus," Stanton exclaimed, pointing over her shoulder. "Look."

She didn't want to turn back to the inevitable demise of some stranger, but something about his tone made her eyes follow to where he was pointing. Jodie suppressed a gasp, hand flying to cover her mouth.

She was half-expecting to see Godzilla rising from the crater, but instead it was something else, something smaller but far, far faster than the old lizard ever was. Hovering low, wings pressed flat against his body as he dove, was Rodan.

Like a flurry of dancing flames, he burst out the side of a building, barreling into Ghidorah at full force and knocking him off of his path. With a screech, he swooped up, spreading his wings as he came back around like a boomerang.

Ghidorah was on his full defensive now, heads swiveling around to prepare for another attack. His left head wasn't so lucky, as Rodan flared his talons, digging into the dragon's head and hooking himself onto his horns. The left head let out a shriek as the flying reptile's claws dug into his eyes before the right and center heads focused their lightning into a concentrated beam of energy, shooting the firebird square in the chest.

He drew back, landing on the top of a half-demolished building. Squinting through the smoke, Jodie saw that the injury he had obtained during his tussle with Mothra was still glowing, but not even that stopped him from going back at the dragon. The center head let loose another bolt while the left thrashed in pain, trilling and screaming as his brothers fought in his stead.

Stretching out his neck to take a bite out of Rodan's leg, he dodged, weaving out of the way before he banked hard, aiming for the right head like a ravenous hawk. Ghidorah was fast, but Rodan was faster. With one quick swoop, his talons found purchase on the right head's snout, digging deep into his mouth and clawing up toward his eyes. But he couldn't get far, as he felt the center head's teeth wrap around his leg.

With one strong tug, the center head ripped Rodan from his attack, throwing him into a building, shattered glass cascading down on both of them.

Ghidorah looked down at the bird with a burning fury, lightning building in their necks as the center head nipped at his brothers, tugging the left one by his horns to correct his aim. As each of their maws opened for the finishing blow, Jodie saw something.

It was far behind the dragon, but the space where Godzilla's body lay was now an empty crater, smoking pouring from the ignited rubble within. Jodie stood up, bracing one arm against the Osprey's half-open door.

"There.." she found herself muttering, too wrapped up in the scene playing out before her.

Everyone's gaze followed to where she was pointing. Behind her, Madison was leaning out of her seat with wide eyes.

Massively wounded, Godzilla had pulled himself up and out of the crater, staggering toward Ghidorah as the dragon prepared to take out the already injured titan below him. His steps were slow, uncertain, but as he waded through the remains of Boston his strides built up in strength. And as he regained his power, he was glowing a bright red now, pulsing with an inner radiance that leaked through his scales like lava, light spilling from his eyes as if his body was the core of a star about to go supernova. All around him, everything within his immediate radius began to melt, the heat waves coming off of his body distorting the air around him. Rearing his head back, Godzilla roared.

Madison had thought she had seen true power back in Antarctica, when Ghidorah had first awakened with all the bottled rage of an angry god. But looking at Godzilla, the dragon seemed far from powerful. Finally, she heard his voice right at the front of her mind, and she couldn't help but grin.

Checkmate, asshole

It was then that Ghidorah's center head whipped around, hissing as the rest of his brothers turned their attention to the massive heatwave behind them. Rodan took his chance to slip out from under his talons, flapping his wings to get as high into the air as he could.

With an insulted trill, Ghidorah's middle head spit out a stream of lightning, but the titan just took it, hardly even flinching. He continued stomping forward, the bright red pulsing around him growing brighter and stronger. The dragon backed away, taking a single tentative step back as Godzilla's pace was unimpeded. Ghidorah, unwilling to back down completely, let out three simultaneous shrieks, flaring their horns in defiance as his necks struck out like snakes.

Despite his wounds, the titan never slowed, only stopping to curl into himself as the pulsing around him grew so bright Madison thought he was about to explode. And in a way, he did. The scutes on his back crackled with light, blue streaks mixing with the thermonuclear red. The pulses running up and down his spine became so fast they were blinding. She had to shield her eyes when the pulses condensed, expanding into a massive wave of radioactive energy.

For a brief second, squinting through the light that filtered between her fingers, Madison could have sworn she saw something within the wave, something like gossamer wings flying out of Godzilla's back and toward Ghidorah. Mothra's chittering cry echoed in the back of her mind.

The wave phased through Ghidorah, knocking him down as it burned straight through the thin flesh of his wings as if they were nothing but paper. In a single moment the dragon's wings had been stripped down to the bone. Ghidorah let out an agonizing scream.

On his back, he braced himself up, focusing all three heads on the titan that still lumbered ever closer and letting loose three concentrated beams of lightning. But that did nothing to stop him, if anything, it was only fueling him.

Godzilla released another wave of radiation, and as it expanded around them, the center head recoiled, the screams of his brothers filling the air as the left head was stripped of his scales, sinew and muscle burning away until there was nothing left but bone. The right head disintegrated completely, wilting like a flower from Godzilla's atomic radiance. Their cries died out in an instant as Ghidorah slumped to the ground, writhing like a snake. It was odd, seeing the dragon so small compared to Godzilla. Ghidorah's remaining head screamed.

Taking a step forward, Godzilla's foot collided with his chest, caving it in as the bomb within the titan set off, creating a blinding dome of light over what was once Boston.

Madison's eyes slammed shut as she felt her parents shield her from the light, desperately hoping that they were out of range. As the shock wave from the blast expanded, the Osprey rattled something within the craft sparking and nearly shutting off before starting again, getting swept up into a thermal and continuing its retreat. Everything was still a little shaky, but at least they weren't dead.

Godzilla? Madison opened her eyes.

She was greeted with a mushroom cloud lifting from the skyline, or what remained of it. Gradually, the cloud began to lift before clearing below. Through the smoke, she could see that almost all of Boston was gone, a wasteland of charred ruins. Streets were burning, the steel beams that held up its skyscrapers were twisted and melted.

Her eyes narrowed, trying to discern where exactly the two titans were only to find no sign of either. Had they been destroyed? She could still feel his connection, it was waning just a bit, but it was there. He had to have made it. He had to.

Then, something shifted beneath the wreckage, something big. As the thing emerged, Madison waited for Godzilla's signature dorsal spines, but instead a pair of golden horns appeared, followed by a draconic face. Her stomach dropped.

Ghidorah's head continued to rise from the smoke, further and further until she saw something..weird. His neck didn't look right, as it wasn't the slender serpentine neck she was used to. It was then that she understood, as Godzilla rose above the ruins with Ghidorah's only remaining head in his mouth.

Madison flinched when the dragon's eyes snapped open, seeming to stare just past her. Following his gaze, she saw Elena. The two were locked in one last stare-down. The woman felt a sharp chill run down her spine, but she stared back, jaw tightening as she watched him desperately try to wriggle free from Godzilla's jaws. Shaking it like an alligator would, Godzilla shook the head from side to side until a familiar blue glow built up in his mouth. The whirring from his atomic breath grew quicker and quicker until Ghidorah's entire head was glowing electric blue. With one last trill, Ghidorah's head was ripped apart as the titan's fire erupted through him and into the air.

As the blast died out, Godzilla jittered, shaking his head as a little bolt of lightning crackled in his mouth. He turned his head toward the Osprey.

Told ya everything would be fine, Madison heard him say.

She tried to hide the smile forming along her face. No one else in the Osprey seemed as amused.

Godzilla had won. They had one. But the world was changed forever. So many cities had been left in ruins, and even more people had died. Despite feeling a glimmer of relief, Madison knew that things weren't just going to bounce back to the way they were. Maybe they never would.

But maybe that was as it should be.

If her mother was right, and with Ghidorah gone, the world could rebuild. The places ravaged by titans would flourish, and maybe someday the smoking remains of Boston would become a sprawling forest. She found herself not minding that at all.

Though, she had to admit, she hadn't wanted it to happen this way. But there was no going back now. It was the dawn of a new world, or the return of a very old one. Hopefully, she thought as she huddled closer to her parents, resting her head on her father's shoulder, they could all find out how they fit into this new era. Together.

Jodie jumped, relaxing after finding that it was Gill who had bumped her arm with her own. She gave her a half-smile, reaching for her hand. Smiling back, she grabbed it, squeezing as they stared at the morning sun poking out from the horizon.

Seeing Godzilla silhouetted by its rays, she thought back to what Chen had said about dragons and redemption. Maybe there was something to that. Sure, they might still have a long way to go to reach the coexistence from Serizawa's vision, but something about this battle felt like a reset. A new start.

"Good thing he's on our side." Stanton remarked.

"For now." Chen replied.

Madison bristled at that comment. He wouldn't turn on them, right? She knew that humans haven't exactly had the best history with Godzilla, but he had fought on their side.

Right?

"Look.." she whispered, unsure if she had said it out loud or to the lizard.

As the smoke faded away into the wind, everyone in the Osprey saw what had grabbed the girl's attention. Even Godzilla seemed to turn to where she was pointing.

Behind him was another titan, one that resembled a cross between a woolly mammoth and a ground sloth, complete with long, sweeping tusks that hung low to the ground. It was ambling slowly, and nothing about it seemed aggressive. Blowing out a puff of air from his nostrils, Godzilla continued to turn as two other titans - one with six long legs and the other resembling a bull with a mountain on its back - continued stalking toward him as well.

But there was more.

Jodie recognized them all, or at least most of them. A hunchbacked MUTO was ambling toward the group, followed by a flock of leafwings native to Skull Island. And quickly gaining on the herd was a Titanus Anguirus, Mokele-Mbembe, Kumonga, Sekhmet, Varan, Kamacuras...dozens of titans with names she couldn't remember fast enough all converging in one place. It struck her as odd. Ghidorah must have called them in, but his cavalry was much too late. Godzilla's gaze roamed over them all as he continued to turn, taking them all in. Sizing them up.

Then, Rodan had swung back around, having saved himself from Godzilla's meltdown. He landed before him, letting out a screech as his wings outstretched toward Godzilla. The firebird didn't sound defeated, or afraid. It almost sounded like he was genuflecting. Like he was in the presence of royalty.

But Godzilla didn't seem too trusting, and rightfully so.

Battered and bruised, the titan was still ready to fight. Letting out a hot puff of air from his nostrils, he snarled. Rodan seemed taken aback, pausing for a moment before laying his wings on the ground in submission. He was bowing.

And one by one, the other titans followed suit, each bowing in their own way.

The sun's first rays filtered from behind him, almost seeming to cast him in a golden halo of light.

This planet does not belong to us, Jodie thought, watching as the titans welcomed their new king. It was something she often heard among her peers, a quote from one of Monarch's earliest founding members - Bill Randa. And now, looking out at the primordial scene before her, she couldn't agree more.

"This is Godzilla's world." Jodie said. "We just live in it."

Godzilla threw back his head and roared until the heavens shook.

[blandmemoirs]

Reflection in the Dark

Sometimes you watch a show and it changes your perspective in subtle, nuanced ways. Sometimes you consume information in a way that informs you of something you always understood about yourself, but in a way that makes it more clear. Lately, I've felt, lost? I'm not sure that's the right way to describe it. Perhaps I am trapped? In the dark? Lets go with that. I've felt as if I am in a dark place, slowly marching through the thick of it. I cant see in front of me, and I don't know if I'm making progress or if I'm just going back to where I came from. The more things change, the more they stay the same. And my life has received some small changes with larger overarching meanings that have left me confused and... At a loss. I walk down this lonely road and wonder if the path really means anything, or if I'm slowly pacing towards a bitter end. My senses tell me tragedy is on the horizon, but I am blind as to where it is to come from. Normally I see the bullets coming my way. What does intuition command my path is to be? Its silent. I hear static. I'm in the dark. What do I choose? Am I at a crossroads or have I already taken the turn? Am I going backwards? What is progress? Does it even fucking matter? Or am I concerning myself with things that dont even matter? Do I just drop it all and let go? Let it freeze over. At least the cold takes me where the wind blows.

I do as I have always done and turn to the world of fiction for answers. Be it fate or my own unwitting subconscious, I read of tragedy and loss. I see heartache and hurt. I see broken men lose it all. But as is a constant in the world of comics and capes, they persevere. They are grieving, but they still do what they are called on to do. They still protect and serve and save. Because that is their purpose. It is what they are meant to be. The memory of love lost, and a willingness to carry on. An acceptance of the loneliness and an ever-changing world. They choose to be a constant. To never let the weight of their personal conflicts hold them back from their purpose.

This brings me very specifically to The Punisher Season 2, which I just finished watching. Frank Castle is a man wandering in the dark. No sense of purpose, just drifting. He lost everything, all the love he had in the world ripped from him violently by evil men, some close to him. But he made them pay for it. He punished every piece of shit that had anything to do with his loss. But then what? What is he? Where does he go? He finally lowers his guard to start anew, only for his whole world to go back to shit and the person he fell for to be wounded in the fray. Frank is a man of conviction. He cant see suffering and let is persist. He must step in and put a stop to it. Even if it costs him a "normal life". And so he embarks on a journey of his own making in which he faces a new enemy and an old enemy he couldnt put down last time. In it he must face himself and the decisions he makes. He avenged his family. He put down eveyone involved. Yet here he is, on a violent path again. This time for no motivation other than to protect someone he has no obligation to. In the ensuing 13 hours the show took to finish, I found myself remembering just why I like this character so much.

Frank Castle is a tragic character. His wife and two kids gunned down in front of him. His only meaning in life taken from him. He takes up arms and exacts brutal, bloody punishment on those involved, and eventually, every evil doer who crosses his path. Frank lives in a world of black and white. Of good and evil. Evil must be killed, and good protected. Frank is neither good or bad. He is the line seperating them. He is the executioner carving that bloody divide. Frank doesnt see himself as good, he just sees himself as what he is, The Punisher. He kills the bad people. Thats how simple his world is. You do harm to other people, you hurt the innocent, you must be punished. Frank differs from the traditional hero because he kills. And he feels no remorse for it. He is THE Anti-Hero. He does bad things for the benefit of the good. There are times when I would like to be that. When I consider becoming that way. There are times I have done bad things to help good people. Obviously, I've not done anything as drastic as Frank, but the themes are similar. I am a man of themes and rules.

I see Frank Castle as being the model by which a part of myself wishes to emulate. A man with nothing to lose and a code to enforce. No feelings or friends, just channeling all of my anger and hate into hurting the ones who deserve it most. Its not a sustainable model, and it would only result in my loss. Frank is a sad character in great pain. There isnt a day he doesnt miss his family. But he knows the things he has done would make his family ashamed of him, so he fights his endless war instead. Frank is twice offered a new life this season, both times rejecting the women who love him for the pursuit of his purpose, punishment. Frank ends the show by "becoming what he is meant to be", The Punisher. After a season of him considering what his role in the world is, and whether he can ever allow himself to enjoy a happy ending, Frank pleads his closest friends to be permitted to be what he is meant to be. Frank has given up on his hope for a happy life, and instead is resigned to enacting pain on all who do evil.

I do not want to be like Frank Castle. He is not a role model like Captain America, or a guiding example like the Hulk. The Punisher is a character that has given up striving to be good. He just does what he wants to do because its what he does best. He has rules and a code. He has a sense of morality and purpose, but he has no humanity left in him. He has no love. He only has his wounded soul and a hate fueled by the anger he feels in his loss. Frank is a sad example of what a person can become when they resign themselves to purpose.

I enjoy The Punisher because I can feel what he feels and indulge myself in his reality without becoming him. Its catharsis. The fantasy of beating down abusers and making them swallow their own teeth and beg for mercy as they choke on their own blood. Season Two experimented with a more merciful Frank Castle. But Frank is not meant to be merciful. He is an executioner. Mercy is for the other heroes. The hope of redemption for evil or faith in a system is what separates Frank from those like Daredevil or the Batman. Each instance of mercy was unique in that's its causes and consequences were different. Sometimes more innocents are hurt, other times the man he spared was someone doing evil against their own will, fighting for a cause out of their control. Frank spares many soldiers who are only following orders so long as they can admit their orders were wrong. "Do what you gotta do" he says.

The Punisher will always capture my imagination because I feel the connection to him. That one bad day could spiral me into a position like his. My values remain, but my soul is gone. My purpose is clear, but my heart is cold. I am simply a shell of myself, acting more as a machine or a force of nature than a man. Frank is even referred to as a "whirlwind" at one point. He is defended as not being a criminal, but also not being a hero. Hes just Frank. Sometimes I see myself in a similar vein, not a good man, not a bad man, just Robbie Bland. A constant.

Frank Castle is a forbidden future I hope I never find myself venturing into. I don't want to become like that. So sad, so tragic, so hurt. But committed, committed to a purpose. Committed to a cause, a war. There is no peace for Frank Castle, and perhaps there may never be a peace for Robbie Bland.

As I wander through this dark in my life, I wonder what I may become, if I am to change at all. I wonder what road I may choose, and if it will be the right one for me. For now, I persist in this limbo state. A good enough job in a good enough apartment surrounded by what I hope is endless support from my loved ones. The times are a-changing. But the more things change, the more they remain the same. The more I begin to think I am not alone, the more alone I feel. For now, I can only persevere and wait for the sun to shine.

Waiting, I'm growing good at it. I'm a patient man, no doubt. I can wait a long time. I just need to know what I'm waiting for, and if what I'm waiting for is the right thing in the first place. I am not growing impatient. I am wondering why the hell I am waiting for something I dont fully understand. But, maybe that means I'm bad at waiting.

I'm in the dark. Wandering. Waiting. Contemplating. I think more to the past with each passing day, making peace with some things and plans for others.

Punisher Season 2 has made me realize that I do not want to let go of the chaos my heart hold. That I do not want to let my heart freeze over so that I can commit to purpose and survival. I'd rather feel and pursue what makes me happy than resign myself to loss. Whatever tragedy approaches me, I will face it, and I will make myself better from it.

Getting to live in Frank Castle's head the last day or so has me knowing it is not a place I wish to remain permanently. Merely to indulge at times when I need to be reminded why I chase the things I do.

Good things come to those who wait. I merely need to be patient, the night is darkest before the dawn.

[luvsavos]

Another part of my Diablo fanfic

The Heavens were in... disrepair. The Diamond Gates reeked of corrupt angel, and black and white blood mingled and splattered the walls and pillars.

It disturbed Malthael.

Ruffling his misty wings, he carried himself into the air, without hesitation this time. Even his wingbeats echoed ominously, and a sense of paranoia and fear began to grip him, tightening around him. But he would not let it win. He couldn't afford to.

Soon he landed on the platforms of the High Heavens, in front of the Halls of Valour. There was more blood here, too, and the corpses of dismembered angels and corrupt angels littered about like toys in a mortal child's playroom. It was clear that Auriel and Imperius had been here, too—Solarion had clearly caused this fallen pillar as well as this gash in the wall, Malthael silently reflected, and Al'Maiesh was easily the cause of this corrupt that was torn in half. Dread gripped Malthael but he pushed on. He needed to. And so he did, striding into the Halls. Quickly he took to his wings to avoid the masses of slain angels in this place. Most of the blood now was angel and not corrupt angel, and it seemed the corrupts had torn their victims and killed them in creative ways. One angel was torn limb from limb, while another had its ribs ripped from its chest. Another seemed to have its entire spine ripped from its body, and its spine could be seen around three feet away from it, impaling another angel through its chest. The entire scene disturbed even him.

It appeared the corrupt had forced both Auriel and Imperius farther and farther back; the normally brilliant white and gold walls and ground were now a palette of blueish white and blackish blue blood, though what worried Malthael the most was the gold-tinted blood that was signature to Imperius, and the pinkish blood that was easily told to be Auriel's. There was lots of it, and many of the bodies felled had their blood on them. The crystal casings where the demon trophies were displayed were almost all shattered, some seemed to have been from attempts to flee, and others having been slammed into. Swerving, Malthael momentarily flattened himself horizontally to avoid an angel who'd been brutally gutted and hung from the ceiling by its own intestines. More of these appeared as he flew, and he vouched to simply fly horizontally. The were strung about like pathetic puppets, and by the time he finally reached Imperius' quarters the entire ceiling was filled with them. Landing gingerly, Malthael looked to his left and saw that one of the corrupts had wrote a message in a mix of angel blood, corrupt blood, and even Auriel and Imperius' own blood: You cant stay in there forever!!! Just letting us kill you now would be so much less painful :)

Malthael cringed at this, but a fear of sorts that had apready been there began to gnaw at him slowly. Were the corrupts really that confident? And somehow... Malthael felt as if they would be able to kill his brother, and Auriel. If they could cause them to lose this much blood...

Well, Malthael didn't want to think of what they'd do to them if they killed them.

Taking a breath, Malthael crossed the threshold. He looked up when he saw movement, but was not greeted by what he wanted to be.

“Hello Malthael,” a corrupt angel snickered, its back to him. He was facing Imperius and Auriel, who were unmoving. Imperius' ribs looked to be almost all snapped, and his arm was bent in an awkward manner, as was his neck. Blood was everywhere.

Then, there was Auriel. One wing looked to be halfway torn off, and blood continuously seeped from a deep wound in the side of her chest. A cut was on her throat, too, and that leaked blood as well. Worse of all her injuries was her left arm—it was completly ripped off from the middle of the upper part down, and the rest of it lay a few feet away, her sword still in it.

Neither seemed to be breathing. They were simply still in all regards.

“We have been waiting for you,” the corrupt continued with a cawing laugh. “Call me Deserus, or the last thing you'll see before you end up like these two here.”

—

His whole world seemed to slow down to a halt, then crash and burn. His brother was dead. His sister-by-law was dead.

Because he hadn't stayed.

He ran through their last conversation between just the two of them—just he and Imperius.

An argument.

Tears stung his eyes at this, but he pushed them back despite the burning feeling of regret that tore at his stomach, and though his body begged him to break down and cry then and there, he showed all emotion into a cage and locked them there. All but anger. Anger and hate for this corrupt angel.

”I think I shan't be addressing you as either,” Malthael said in an icy calm voice, that was in all honestly only so slow and quiet because he was forcing it to not break, nor shake in the slightest. He would not show this corrupt that what he'd done had affected him at all. He would act strong. He always had to act strong.

“Oh?” Deserus snorted. “Prove it to me, then. I killed your brother and his partner. What makes you think I can't kill you?”

“I am impervious to-”

“Ah, yes, of that? I've an amulet, you see, that, ah, allows me to be very in sync with death.”

Mathael cursed mentally, and his lilac eyes strayed to his fallen friend and his fallen brother. Slowly, but noticably, their wings were fading. To allow them to fade fully would take a while, but knowing that they really were gone, and not simply unconsious seemed to break Malthael. Something seemed to snap, and at that moment none of his sanity was clear, and his right mind was clouded out with immense anger.

With a loud snarl, Malthael launched himself at Deserus, who was knocked to the floor, being caught off guard. Malthael, being much larger than him was able to pin him down long enough to slash across his face twice, fangs beared, lilac eyes gleaming with a lack of sanity, and immense hate. Despite bleeding heavily from his face, Deserus smirked and bucked the Archangel off of him, who skidded to a halt on the other side of the room, momentarily on all fours, wings draped across the ground. He then lifted himself up and charged at Deserus again, slamming his forearm into the other's neck and ramming him into a wall.

“YOU–WILL–PAY–FOR–WHAT–YOU'VE–DONE,” Malthael snarled in between angered exhales and inhales. Deserus made to slam his arm into Malthael's face, but Malthael simply bit his arm, sinking his fangs that were long and sharp in an almost unholy manner deep into his arm. Deserus let out a scream, and yanked his arm back. But the damaged was done, and Malthael distastefully spat the large chunk of flesh and muscle from his mouth onto the ground. Deserus sharply kcked Malthael in the stomach, which loosened his grip slightly—as the wind had been knocked from him momentarily, and that was enough for Deserus to wiggle free of his grip and rise into the air with blackened wings.

Cursing, Malthael did the same, and though his shotels gently clanked against his side, he readied his hands—as he was too enraged to remember he had weapons and thus instead was going to use his clawed gauntlets to tear at the other. An unwise decision, as Deserus had a sword, but Malthael could care less about if he was hurt. All he cared about was that his brother and Auriel were avenged.

Sharply, he flew at Deserus, swinging to the side as he swung his sword and came up again behind him, ramming him into the wall as hard as he could. Again, by some miracle, Deserus knocked Malthael from himself and turned, charging at him. Due to the speed of this attack, Malthael only barely dodged, the sword only grazing his chest and arm. For a split second, clarity returned to Malthael, and he remembered his shotels. In a single, fluid movement, he had them in hand and was now batting at Deserus with them, each strike stronger than the last, each strike aimed to kill. Both beings got quite a few hits in, and just when Deserus was aimed for a killing blow, Malthael executed a kick to his ribs that Imperius would have been proud of. A loud crunch could be heard and Deserus' wings faltered, propelling him back a few paces before he fell to the ground. Still in the air, Malthael smirked.

“COME GET ME,” he snarled as he dive-bombed the other, swinging his shotels in a wide cutting motion. This sliced half of Deserus' right wing clear off, thus further crippling him. The wing met the ground and melted into a black tar. After dive-bombing a few more times, Malthael landed, and proceeded more melee combat with the other. Forcing him to drop his guard with a wide arching sweep of one shotel, Malthael flicked his other wrist and the shotel cut through Deserus' sword-bearing hand, and promptly Malthael kicked it away and placed both weapons at the other's neck. For a heartbeat he was silent, before he ran the weapons through his neck with no words.

The corpse fell stiffly, and the head rolled lifelessly to the side. Slowly, Malthael withdrew himself and placed his shotels back on his belt. Then, he approached his brother and Auriel. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked upon them, and he kneeled.

“I'm... sorry,” he said, a few tears fighting their way from his eyes and dripping onto the bodies. A silent sob wracked his slender form as he continued. “For... a-all the fights we ha-had... All the w-words exchanged... I-I just wish I'd be-been here for you, I-Imperius...” By now, his voice was cracking, and tears were falling freely from his lilac eyes. His silvery blood that was just lightly tinted with lilac plipped to the floor, mingling with his brother's blood, making him feel even worse. He had failed. All he ever wanted in life was to see his brother happy and safe.

And yet now he was kneeling by his corpse.

“I-I'm so-sorry I f-failed you... If-if I hadn't le-left then p-perhaps yo-you'd still b-be alive... a-and I, in-in yo-your pl-place...”

He couldn't stop the tears from falling. He wouldn't if he could. He, Malthael, the Archangel of Death, was more broken than he'd ever been; more than he ever would be.

At a loss for words now, he simply sobbed. Sobbed more than he ever had. And then he laid his body atop his brother's, and hugged him. The first, and final hug he'd ever be able to give his brother. All the bitter words, the fights, the arguments...

He'd give anything to go back and change it all. Make it better. Even his own life. Even his own damn soul.

He just wanted him back.

Turning his face slightly, he looked over at Auriel. Based on her expression, she'd gone down fighting. Defending her dying lover, perhaps, as he told her—no, begged her—to run, to save herself, as she protested, tears stinging her eyes as the pain slowly overcame her. “I won't leave you, Imperius,” Malthael could hear her saying, “not even if I die.”

And there she'd perished, how she always said she wanted to: she said she'd wanted to die protecting a loved one.

“Au-Auriel, I... I'm sorry. I-...” Malthael trailed off, not knowing what to say. Still hugging his brother's body, he gingerly took hold of Auriel's wrist and moved her hand to be sitting in Imperius' much larger hand.

This brought a bittersweet smile and more tears to Malthael as he sniffled a little, but laughed softly despite himself.

“Just like how they'd want it,” he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

But alas, this did not work. They simply kept coming. By now Malthael was going from calm and composed to panicky.

“I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.”

He simply kept repeating these three words as if they could hear him.

After quite a few hours, Malthael finally was able to stand, tbough his legs wobbled and barely held him, and his wings refused to work properly. The pain in his stomach had reached perhaps as painful as it could when he had remembered that there were plenty resurection spells that he could learn.

He then remembered that it took a skilled master, having been practicing for decades to revive something such as an Archangel.

And by then they would have been too long gone. And thus, Malthael did what he had the heart to—he cleaned the room and their bodies up, had used some healing power that he'd been practicing to fuse Auriel's arm back on, and had set them up to look as if they were simply sleeping next to one another, in each other's arms.

It was heartbreaking for him to leave, and he found that more tears, silent now, were falling, as he slowly closed up the entrance to Imperius' abode. No one would have need to enter it any longer, after all.

He knew he had to find Urzael, and he knew that he'd have to tell him what happened.

What he didn't know is that his eyes and even wings had dulled significantly in color.

[allofbeercom]

‘Progress is painfully uneven’: Baltimore, 15 years after The Wire

From its first episode in 2002, the HBO TV drama documented the poverty, politics and policing of a city. We visit its memorable locations and talk to the people trying to rebuild scarred communities See more of JM Giordanos photographs of Baltimore locations used in the wire here

In black jacket, checked shirt and white trainers, eight-year-old DAngelo Preston is riding his bike while his sister, Alicia, 11, gives chase. They are playing outside the Baltimore Montessori public charter school, where they would be pupils if they had the chance. Their teachers dont yell at them, says Alicia matter-of-factly. Their teachers let them do whatever they want.

Alicia aims to be a maths teacher when she grows up; DAngelo wants to be a professional football player. They live barely a minutes walk from the Montessori school but, having lost an enrolment lottery, instead take a daily bus to Dallas F Nicholas elementary school, which has fewer resources. The siblings father, Shawn Preston, 38, a mechanic, says: It has a good reputation and I wish more local kids could go. I tried to send Alicia but they told me it was all filled up. I was disappointed. I thought they could have got her in there somehow: were in the neighbourhood.

This is Greenmount West, a community striving to put distance between itself and its portrayal in one of televisions most indelible dramas: The Wire. The Montessori school building was previously home to a beleaguered government school and starred in the fourth and arguably finest season of the show. A nearby design college is still recognisable as where the corner kids hung out. A couple of houses near Prestons were used during filming. Even the name DAngelo strikes a chord as the name of a principal character in the first season.

But as the disappointment over school places illustrates, progress is painfully uneven. While some parts of Baltimore are thriving, others have gone into reverse. In 2015, the death of an African American man in police custody triggered widespread unrest, while the total murder rate of 344 was the highest per capita in the citys history. Last year the figure was 318. In 2017 so far (up to 10 May), there have been 124 murders, outstripping Chicago and putting Baltimore on course for its bloodiest year ever.

Michael Olesker, an author and former Baltimore Sun columnist, says: Its turf wars. Its a battle for street corners. Youve got 18-year-old kids killing each other. Many are from broken families. Wed like to think art can move the world but this problem is so intractable on so many levels its going to be with us for a long time.

This was the world of The Wire and it is still very much intact. From June 2002 to March 2008, the epic HBO series mapped the citys geography, society and soul, charting the never-ending street battle between cops and drug lords. It was a study of the havoc wrought by the drug war on trust between black communities and police. Its hard-boiled realism included a scene of four minutes and 40 seconds in which the dialogue between two detectives consists entirely of 31 fucks, four motherfuckers and one fucking-A.

Bodie and DAngelo Barksdale (right and second right) in season one of The Wire. Photograph: BBC/HBO

The Wire never won an Emmy award or gained a mainstream audience; its acclaim rests largely with critics and fans, including Barack Obama, who named it his favourite show. It stands undiminished in the cultural pantheon. In 2015 Jonathan Bernstein wrote in the Guardian: The temple of the US one-hour TV drama has four pillars: The Sopranos, The Wire, Mad Men and Breaking Bad, novelistic shows that indicted America for its failures but refused to condemn their complex, emotionally crippled leading men.

When British actor, director and writer Kwame Kwei-Armah moved to Baltimore in 2011 to head the Center Stage theatre, he had not seen The Wire so he caught up via iTunes. Recently he met its creator, David Simon. I think its magnificent television, Kwei-Armah says. I think it was voted one of the best pieces of television of the 00s and, as a document, it will be remembered. Baltimore was just a metaphor; it depicted post-industrial America.

The Wire was intricately, unforgivingly plotted, capturing the prosaic nature of police procedural work, the brutal dynastic politics of drug kingpins and the corruption and grubby compromises of civic life. Simon has memorably said: Our model when we started wasnt other television shows. The standard we were looking at was Balzacs Paris or Dickenss London, or Tolstoys Moscow.

Befitting a novel, the characters were richly realised archetypes that leapt off the screen. There was the hard-drinking maverick cop Jimmy McNulty (Dominic West), the world-weary detective Lester Freamon (Clarke Peters), the aspirational, smooth gangster Stringer Bell (Idris Elba), the quietly heroic recovering addict Bubbles (Andre Royo) and the enigmatic, gay Robin Hood figure Omar Little (Michael K Williams), whose distinctions include a facial scar, quaint turn of phrase and being Obamas favourite character.

And in police detective Kima Greggs (Sonja Sohn), we had American TV dramas first major portrayal of a black lesbian. In a phone interview, Sohn recalls: I cant say that I thought she was going to be iconic in any way, but I do think she has become so. I think she is a character I started seeing a lot more in cop shows. Whos the tough female cop, person of colour?

I think its unquestionable the impact that the show has had not only on my career but many of the principal cast. The climate was very different at that time than it is now in terms of the availability of roles for people of colour in the business. So it was quite an anomaly to see a show that would require a predominantly black cast. That in itself was unusual and something that caught the attention of us all.

But there were detractors, she adds. One thing that was disappointing was the city officials. They really were not pleased with the depiction of Baltimore and some of them took the storylines personally. David has always said the issues and stories of The Wire exist nationally.

Bodies hangout: DAngelo Preston, eight, outside the Honey Carry-Out store the spot where Bodie was killed in season four. Photograph: JM Giordano

Baltimore is the Maryland city where Francis Scott Key wrote The Star Spangled Banner, Edgar Allan Poe is buried and, in 1910, the first residential racial segregation law in any US city was enacted. Once a thriving port, hundreds of thousands of small, two-storey terraced houses were built in the Victorian era as the population climbed to a million. But since the mid-20th century that number plunged and now stands at 614,664, according to the US Census Bureau the lowest for nearly 100 years.

The series, though mostly set in the west of the city, was largely filmed in the east because the number of trees in the west made it awkward to shoot through changing seasons. Numerous houses still lie abandoned and boarded up, a few with roofs collapsed under their own weight. Pavements are cracked and smeared with graffiti. Broken bottles and other rubbish pile in gutters. On a typical Sunday afternoon, a patrol car crawls by, an officers tattooed arm trailing out of a window. At night, strobing police lights are alarmingly routine.

In Greenmount West, at what was Bodies corner in the series, customers have to be buzzed in to the Honey Carry Out convenience store. Inside, most of the products M&Ms, Starburst, Skittles, earphones, Butterfinger, Almond Joy, Mounds, KitKats, Snickers, Hersheys, Dove soap, Colgate toothpaste are piled behind bulletproof glass like an art installation. All transactions are final. No refund, says a scrawled sign. Making a purchase requires placing money on a turntable, which revolves to exchange it for the product, a process reminiscent of jail.

Nearby, when we approach one resident, he explains that he returned here last year after a stretch of 24 years in prison and does not want to talk.

Yet this neighbourhood, designated an arts and entertainment district, is slowly but surely gentrifying. The school had shut down in 2001, before The Wire film crew moved in. The building was vandalised, had asbestos and copper pipes removed and was used as a homeless shelter in the winter of 2007. The following year, the Montessori school took over.

Today the colourful jungle gyms and live chickens in its backyard are a world away from the grim vision of ill discipline and desperate teachers seen in The Wire. Allison Shecter, its founder and director, says: We have younger kids here whose parents come from every zipcode in the city. We do bring kids in at every age. They come in when it [their schooling] isnt working : they have a hard shell so it takes a while to win their trust. Even when they come in at eighth grade, its transformational.

The Montessori has 425 pupils and a waiting list of 1,200. It draws pupils by lottery from across the city, many from middle-class homes, while kids in the surrounding, struggling neighbourhood often do not make it and go to Dallas F Nicholas instead. The dynamic has provoked debate about parental choice, the lack of resources for government schools and the dangers of rivalries.

Shecter, 47, says: Families are looking for choice. If there are schools struggling, I think looking at why schools are struggling and helping them needs to be the answer rather than pitting them against each other.

She acknowledges that Greenmount West continues to have problems. Its still very much a neighbourhood in transition: there are still drugs and gangs. There was a hold-up with a gun at eight oclock yesterday morning. Crime in Baltimore is out of control.

But Tina Knox, 57, whose nearby backyard also featured in The Wire, is upbeat. At one point in time this community was down to nothing, she says. You dont know if a fights going to break out or theyre going to start shooting. But once they started tearing down the vacant properties, investors started coming in, buying the houses and fixing them up. The community is coming back up. Now you couldnt pay me to live in any other neighbourhood.

Cuttys boxing gym: the building that housed this location is now derelict. Photograph: JM Giordano

Her friend Stewart Watson has lived here for 15 years and runs an art gallery. Today she is out walking her two great danes. I didnt watch The Wire because I felt I was living it, Watson recalls. It wasnt relaxing to me because of what was happening in my community at the time. The one about schools would probably break my heart.

The closure of the school was a heavy blow, she recalls. All the kids got sent to other schools. Not having a school in the neighbourhood was really tough. It changes the dynamics of the families and breaks up the camaraderie of a neighbourhood. It was the school where Tina went: that kind of loss you cant recover from.

Watson, 48, is optimistic but also worried about the future of Greenmount West. There are difficulties with the gentrification process that any community has. Gentrification is a half-dirty word. Ive said if it means I dont have spinning bulletproof glass up the street, thats great. Its about whats fair and accessible: the racial divide that plagues this city were still trying to figure out.

A short drive away, reminders of that divide are everywhere at some of The Wires most fondly remembered locations. The boxing gym where Dennis Cutty Wise (Chad Coleman) gets back on the straight and narrow is abandoned, its windows broken, cesspools and debris on the concrete floor, the silhouette of a boxer painted on the wall a reminder of its ghosts. (There is talk of a food co-op moving in.)

The TV repair shop that was run by drug kingpin Proposition Joe and the bar that belonged to Omars confidante Butchie have both closed down. Michelle Sponaugle, 53, whose father owned the latter, says: It makes me sad. I used to work behind the bar. We had a good clientele but the crime got rough down here. My father had a gun put to his head a couple of times so we put up a bulletproof wall.

And the convenience store where Omar, the seemingly invincible stick-up man (You come at the king, you best not miss), was gunned down by a boy has vanished altogether after a blaze set off by the unrest of 2015 and the construction of an apartment complex for the elderly. Over the road is a park bench that proclaims without a hint of irony: Baltimore: the greatest city in America.

One of its occupants, Alfred McDaniel, 59, says he never saw the series because he does not watch TV. Time is too valuable to waste so why would I do something like TV? Im in a house that should be condemned, so why would I watch TV? Im in court trying to get them to fix it. I need surgery but Im trying to deal with the rats and the mice. Where I live, the stupid landlord wont even fix the goddam door.

McDaniel, a home repair man on medical leave, is in his fifth home in five years in the city. I aint seen no improvement in Baltimore. You call the police to report a crime and they tell you theyre not going to file a report, so what police can you depend on in this city? So the next person who breaks in your room, you should kill them.

Beside him is John Williams, 56, who used to work on the docks, which featured in the shows second season. He says: Baltimore is struggling the same. Its good for some people but if you live on this side of town its not that good. Houses have been vacant a long time so theres no reason for homelessness in Baltimore. The city could try to renovate these houses and make them affordable to people.

Sonja Sohn (detective Kima Greggs) now helps children break the cycle of crime. Photograph: Icon Sports Wire/Corbis via Getty Images

Williams says that, in his first week as a resident of Baltimore in 2013, some 35 people were killed. The cops are overwhelmed to a certain degree. Relations are strained. The community doesnt believe in the cops. There are people who know who committed murders but they dont want to come forward. Youve got murderers walking among you and its dangerous, basically. If youre working as a taxi, youve got to be careful where to pick up.

Similar sentiments are expressed in another neighbourhood by Janet Worsley, 57. They still have gangs and mobs. You take your life in your hands if you walk these streets at a certain time of night. If I get off work, I walk home, but to come out otherwise? No. She describes an incident when her car was stopped by police. All I could do was humble myself: Sorry, officer. Im still afraid for my son being mishandled by police because he has a mental illness.

For Sonja Sohn, such issues resonate with her own childhood and remain intensely personal. After production wrapped on the fifth and final season she co-founded ReWired for Change, a Baltimore-based nonprofit organisation that works to help young people break the cycle of crime. It often uses cast members and material from the show to get its message across.

For a while, it seemed this portrait of a city in crisis might sting officials into action, but the power of art has its limits. Sohn says: I think that the city leadership did begin to make an effort to look at the issues that The Wire brought to life, particularly because of the fourth season, which focused on the children and the schools.

As much as the city leadership couldnt stand The Wire, they were forced to address the issues because, I believe, they wanted to prove that their city was better than what was depicted. So ultimately The Wire impacted this city in a positive way in my opinion.

But then came a hammer blow that appeared to destroy any putative gains made in crime reduction and community-police relations in Baltimore. Freddie Gray, a 25-year-old African American, died of neck injuries suffered in police custody in April 2015. The city erupted in weeks of mass demonstrations and a day of rioting. Six police officers were charged in connection with Grays death but none was convicted. A justice department report found a huge racial disparity in enforcement, especially in stops, searches and discretionary misdemeanour arrests, including those of people congregating on street corners. It also observed that residents believe there are two Baltimores one wealthy and largely white, the second impoverished and predominantly black.

Sohn says: I was not surprised but the most visceral reaction I had was one of support of the people. I was so tired of pounding the pavement, of spending my extra time and extra dimes to help lift up under-served communities in Baltimore. After I started the nonprofit, I started to see how challenging that work is, and I also started to see how it quite possibly is this never-ending clusterfuck. I had stepped away to reassess how I could be useful, in fact, when the whole Freddie Gray situation happened.

When I saw the people rise up and express their anger in the way that they did even though I did not want the city to burn down, I did not want lives to be lost the very core of me said, what else could they do to get your attention? To let you know you serve them? That you have not served them for decades, and theyre not tolerating it any more? They put you in office, the city taxpayers pay their salaries, and theyre not being served. And when talking no longer works, what else do the people have?

That part of me said, burn it down, burn the whole motherfucker down. If theyre not going to fucking listen, burn it. Theres that revolutionary radical in me. But at the same time thats more of a sense than it is an intellectual choice Im telling people to make. Im saying yes, act from that sense. We dont want them to take it literally but I see you acting from that sense and, symbolically, this is what we need to do. We just need to find a way to do it differently.

Relations with the police remain strained despite efforts and initiatives on both sides. Sohn is eager to dispel the myth that young men hanging out on streets corners or residents sitting on stoops outside their homes are all selling drugs. I think what people dont understand is when you live in these communities, this is your tribe, this is your home, the streets are a part of your property, its a part of your culture.

Omars death: Alfred McDaniel, 59, stands across the street from the location of the shop where Omar was shot dead in season five. The building burned down during the riots following the death of Freddie Gray in Baltimore in 2015. Photograph: JM Giordano

We sit on the stoops, we say Hey! to Miss Mary down the street and see the little kids coming home. If theres a fight, somebody jumps off the stoop and runs and breaks up the fight. We might not use drugs or deal drugs but we know the drug dealer, we babysat him when he was eight. Or maybe we know hes 20 and hes dealing drugs but we went to school with him He was in my eighth grade class. These are just people we know. We know your mama, I date your sister, she cool.

Whats going on on the street isnt always drug dealing. Its a community thats gathering and taking care of itself. If you dont understand it and youre only looking at TV, what youre thinking is people are dealing drugs and everybodys just depressed and sitting on the stoop drinking beer. And though that may be there, it is certainly not all of whats there. Theres a community gathering and communing with one another.

Nevertheless, the toxic mix of drugs, firearms and joblessness chronicled by The Wire in 2002 still persists. Last month, the mayor of Baltimore, Catherine Pugh, appealed to the FBI for extra help to combat the soaring homicide rate, explaining: Murder is out of control. There are too many guns on the streets.

Rafael Alvarez, an author and screenwriter who worked on the show, writes in an email: The rich and cruel supply of American fucked-up-ness will never run dry in Baltimore, so yes, The Wire could be made 15 years after it originally aired. I suspect give or take 50 homicides and a new wave of corruption and ignorance it could be made again 15 years from today.

Olesker is similarly short on optimism about the citys future. I think you could do the same show today. Its still out there on the street corners: you can go to countless neighbourhoods and see street after street of abandoned houses that have sat there for years.

Youve got all these kids who are rootless, who dont have families, who are joining gangs. Theyre figuring out very early the game is stacked against them. Theyre not going to get to college like middle-class kids do, so they have a choice: they can work in McDonalds for $10 an hour or they can make multiples of that from the drug trade, and theres no mother or father around to tell them otherwise.

Indeed, Donald Trumps pledge to be a law and order president stressing blue lives matter rather than black lives matter, and his attorney general Jeff Sessionss retro approach to tough sentencing only seem likely to fan the flames in Baltimore, a majority black, staunchly Democratic city. The Wire was sometimes accused of implying that its characters were locked in a hopeless cycle; events seem to bear out this sense of fatalism.

But Kwame Kwei-Armah offers hope. One of the things Ive learned since Ive been here is that people of Baltimore care about Baltimore in a rather profound way. Im talking about the philanthropic community in particular: they actually put their money back into the community. Community means something, and Im not just saying that to blow smoke. We had to raise $36m in order to renovate our theatre and we were able to do that in what is a relatively small city. Were not the only people out with a capital campaign. Actually, after the uprisings of 2015, there was a lot of money that came from within Baltimore to start looking at creating solutions for the problems that are endemic here.

Sonja Sohn, too, feels some optimism. Ive been around, Ive been on the planet a little while, she says. I never trusted the establishment anyway so the face we are seeing now is not a surprise, and Ive also been around long enough to see people and movements come and go. By no means do I believe that evolution goes backwards. Evolution goes forwards. No human being can defy the laws of nature, so Im not worried about Donald Trump and Im not worried about Jeff Sessions. Im on my mission, Im on my grind, Im on my purpose and we are all collectively moving forward, I guarantee you that.

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/progress-is-painfully-uneven-baltimore-15-years-after-the-wire/

[dancerwithwolves-blog]

Before I was Murdered.

They say most of the time people are hurt or killed by someone they knew , they make it sound like it was that victims fault like they asked to be killed I never really gave anything like that much thought I was a twenty two year old girl in a new city I was just living my life my name is Mia I was murderd by a man on December twelve only a few friends and some family members came to my funeral 

My mother had to be lead away. Unlike what most people think I never knew this man who killed me I was just doing my job I was a secretary at a lawyers office, I noticed this man one day he was a client of the lawyer I work for he was angry at his lawer for losing his case he wanted full custody of his kids but he lost his case to his wife his ex wife then moved out of state and he had no idea where they went When I saw him today he was standing by my car putting a note in the windshield this sent shivers down my spine but I decided to check it out on my lunch break I didn't see him around any more so I figured it was safe I took the paper from my windshield unfolded it to see that it simply said " your beautiful" this creeped me out a bit So I went back inside to tell me boss he said its probably just his was of messing with you he's mad that he lost his case just ignore him, ok I said I figured I was just making to much of it that I probably wont even see this man again. But I did he came up to me a few days later at work when I was getting in to my car to go home he said hello and I jumped and turnd around Sorry I didint mean to scare you I just noticed you at your desk and how beautiful you are I thought I would ask you out Oh I said I dont think so, this seemed to make him angry I saw his eyes turn from brown to almost back this scared me, I honestly dont know what he's thinking he's fifty years old I don't want to date him I didn't want to date anyone really I liked my job and I liked the freedom of being single. Cant we just try a cup of coffee? he said in a rather flat tone of voice No I said a little louder then I ment to I dont date my bosses clients I said oh but im not a client anymore he said to me that dosent matter I said the I said no and I mean it I dont appreciate you sneaking up on me like this please leave me alone well see he said and turned and walked away. Those words bugged me what does he mean by well see? I was scared by this point so I talked to my boss about it the next day he said he'll probably leave you alone but if your worried tell the police about him ok I said maybe I'll do that by lunch break When lunch break came I thought about going to the police but I didn't see him around and thought maybe im making to much of this so I let it go and went about my work and life it wasn't until a week later that I knew this was far from over When I got home from work I noticed someone had slipped a note under my apartment door it was like the note on my car that day this one simply said you should have said yes I folded it up and put it in my purse and headed back out to the police station. When I got there I told a woman officer at the front destraction what was going on and she told me to wait and she would have a detective take my statement about twenty minutes later a male officer came and took me to a small room with just a desk and two chairs I sat in one and he in the other and I told him all about this man in his fiftys named Joseph porter and the officer told me that I shouldn't be worried he's probably judt mad I said no but will get over it and move on with his life That's it? I said annoyed by this point because everyone says probably to me but so far no one has done anything arnt you going to question him or just talk to him or something I can get you his address, that wont be necessary mamm he said he hasent done anything against the law he's just annoying right, so your telling me my life has to be in danger before you'll do anything well I wouldn't put it that way but yes he said Fine I said im sorry I wasted your time and walked out. When I hot home it wss late and I was tired and angry i dont think im over reacting but aparintly I don't know anything. I had a shower and sat down on my couch to watch some t.v before bed so I could calm down a little when my phone rang I picked it up and it was just dead air I hung it up and not even ten minutes later it rang again I read the screen and all it said was caller unknown and again it was just dead air on the other end this happend for two hours safe to say I didn't sleep that night at all thankfully the next day was saturday so I could just stay in bed when it was almost noon the called started again I picked up the phone this time and yelled leave me the fuck alone to no reply the calles stoped until the next day only when I picked up the phone it was his voice and all he said to me was see you soon I went back to the police the next day and told the same detective what happend I said isn't this some kind of harassment? It is agreed the offecer and took all the information I had and agreed to go to his place and talk to him. Later that night though I woke to a pounding on my door and Joseph yelling on the other side telling me to open it I didint saying anything at first it wasn't until he startef forcing it open I ran to call nine one one the police showd up in minutes only it felt like hours to me and arrested him the detective told me to get a restraining order Which I did he was let out of jail by the nect day though and I couldent get the restraining order filed because he didn't show up at court so the judge just threw the case out. The phone calls and now thereniting letters went on for weeks everytime I called the police they said theres nothing they can do unless he hurts me or is at my house when he does show up at my door they aresst him but his out the next day I moved changed my phone number I even bought a gun but nothing helps A few months into this I decided to tell my parents what was going on they were wortied about me being alone anyway and said I could stay with them I declined because he would just find me anyway and I didn't want my family involved or hurt by him . I went home the next day but it felt like somthing was wrong there'd was a strange smell like someone else had been there but nothing was out of place until I went to my bedroom when I open the door I was hit by a awful smell and found a dead cat on my bed bed with a note that said your next held to it with a knife stabbed through it I screamed and ran to my phone crying histaricly trying to call nine one one but the phone was dead so I got out my cell phone and called them they came out in an hour and removed the cat and dusted the place for prints of course they didn't find any but mine We have no prove it was him mam the officer said to me what about the note? I said its just a piece of paper with big letters in marker the others were in pen so it doesn't even really look the same thanks I said sarcastically and closed the door behind him I didn't sleep at all that night I don't know what to do I cant focus at work and I keep snapping at people so my boss gave me time off until I figure this out he Sid I can't oford to move anymore and he would just find me anyway im going to have to leave the state like his ex did I thought to myself so I called my parents told them everything that had just happend and asked if they would help me of course they said and wired me some money so I could afford to move to a different city and start over the next few weeks the calls keep going but I was almost used to them now On moving day I couldent wait to leave and be free of him I parked ip everything and headed to my new life when I arrived to my new place I was surprised to see it was smaller then I thought it was from what I advice it online but other then that it was great its only me here anyway when my phone rang I jumped but it was just my mom calling to see if I got there ok I did I replied and dont worry I will pay you guys back as soon as i can dont worry dear we just want you to be safe thank you for everything I said I love you I love you too my mom said and we hung up. It was then I knew somthing was wrong I smelled that older again that I smelled when he left the dead can with the note in my apartment I dont care what the police said I know it was him. I turned slowly to see my closet door creak open I felt a scream get caught in my throat and turned to run out of the room I called nine one one white I knowd over a bunch of boxes he was right behind me I told the operated help me its him before he hit me and sent my phone flying to the floor he kept on hiring me no matter how hard I tried to fight him it was like he didint feel it I told you he said I told you you would be next you really thought I was going to let you get away from me? Why are you doing this I managed to say but he didint reply right away it wasn't until I saw a knife in his hand he said to me because I want to and because no one can stop me I screamed until I felt the knife go into my body I don't know how many times.. eventually I didn't feel it anymore everything went black and I slipped away. From outside of my body I saw the police show up they arrested him and read him his rights he got charged for only my murder and sentenced to seven years he only served three before he was released he visits a porole officer once a month he still says I deserved it that I deserved to be terrified for months and brutally murderd at the age of twenty two my family is distroyd my parents cant cope and now they dont even get the satisfaction of him in jail he's free to do it again and most likely will sadly im far from being the only victim.