#she is SO averse to any interaction with him that could result in violence

[smitten-miqitten]

Got Solavellan brainrot on my mind.

My Lavellan responded angrily to unceremoniously getting dumped next to a pond in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. Seemed the reasonable option to pick, given the circumstances.

But she's not normally a violent person (apart from killing bad guys of course), and the little shoves she does when she's arguing with Solas really stick in my brain. She would regret getting physically violent with him the instant she cooled down even a little bit. There's so many ways to make a point and even though she's hurt and furious, that was the wrong way. He doesn't even defend himself. It'd eat at her, but they're not exactly on speaking terms for a bit, and she never really gets to apologize properly.

And I can just picture Cole bringing it up to Solas in his delightful Cole-y way:

"She's sorry she shoved you. She meant it with her heart, not her hands. She wishes she could take it back."

"I know, Cole. It's alright. It's... deserved."

"You wish she'd shoved you harder."

"...yes."

[mmaurysiek]

balance gone askew

It's amusing how Jonny d'Ville and Nastya Rasputina "should" have balanced each other out, but they didn't.

Do you think Carmilla thought about it when she's found Nastya? A girl about Jonny's developmental age, but so much calmer and thoughtful. Maybe there are rumours about the time when the young Cyberian princess Nastya Nikolayevna has debuted in the world of politics by talking down powerful men when they were about to escalate an already tense situation?

Nastya, clearly averse to violence and skilled in the ways to prevent it, trained to handle diplomacy by the Empire's best tutors.

If anyone could effectively hold Jonny back from his self-destructive (and quite destructive) drive to seek out and provoke violence everywhere he goes -- it would be Nastya, right?

If Carmilla hoped so, she might have misjudged the princess' motivation.

It's not the violence itself that young Nastya so abhorred, but the outcome of it: violent actions would always result in a net loss, no matter who won, not when Nastya considered both sides of a conflict as her people and her responsibility.

But with Jonny? As long as Jonny is sensible enough to direct his violence at strangers that Nastya doesn't care about - Nastya has no reason to stop him. Jonny is practically indestructible, so it's not like he can get hurt, either. Quite the opposite, really - he's much calmer when he comes back from a killing spree, so really, it's in everyone's best interest to let Jonny out into the wild every now and then. Nastya cares not for random strangers, haven't you heard that she hates having to interact with organic people anyway?

Most of the crew is just as indestructible as Jonny, so as far as Nastya is concerned - she has no need to concern herself about them. They always bounce back anyway. (Nastya doesn't acknowledge the concept of psychological harm - if she were to, she would have had to admit that she isn't and hasn't been fine for a very long time, perhaps ever.)

The only member of their little pirate crew that could be harmed physically is Aurora. Thus, Aurora is the only one who needs Nastya's protection.

And thus Nastya is going to put the fear of Nastya into anyone who risks Aurora's physical well-being. As for how, well, an integral part of diplomacy is the implicit threat that ensures people's willingness to cooperate. And threat of pain or humiliation generally works even on indestructible immortals - while causing them no lasting physical harm, so Nastya doesn't even have to hold back!

And when it comes to blackmail about some humiliating moments, isn't it lucky that Aurora has eyes and ears all over the place? And if the threat of humiliation fails, there is always the threat of physical pain, and ways to cause it that don't make any mess that would need cleaning. (Threats only work on people who both believe you can act on them, and hope that they can avoid you acting on them.)

It should work. Logically, it should work. It mostly does, too. Some of the crewmembers are so desensitised to humiliation that finding a way to keep them in check is a challenge. Nastya has to act out on smaller threats before they believe the big ones, too, but that's part of the process.

Unfortunately, some of Nastya's crewmates are more desensitised or consequence-blind than others. Gunpowder seemed to not notice he was getting humiliated, too, when Nastya was proving that she meant business, but even Gunpowder doesn't care for getting repeatedly fried in the engine ever again.

Jonny though? Nastya wishes she could fix Jonny's programming. His current one... Well, he seems incapable of learning nor logical reasoning, the way Nastya sees it. Nastya is sure that despite being immortal, Jonny deserves a dozen Darwin Awards - and he has no shame about it, either. If only there were any code Nastya could proof to make Jonny more functional, any glitching chip she could replace to make him better, more aware of the actual real world around him... but no, Jonny is thoroughly organic and there's nothing Nastya can do to fix him. Or his not-a-boyfriend Gunpowder, however that works. Peas in a pot, those two.

And it's so, so hard to try and steer someone who doesn't seem to understand the basic cause-and-effect, no matter how much she explains.

(Nastya is neurodivergent in a different way than Jonny, and they two do step on each other's toes with clashing needs, and the like - and then misinterpret each other's reactions)

[eleutheramina]

The Whale Star Thoughts

Read the English translations / tried my best to understand the Korean of the manhwa The Whale Star / The Gyeongseong Mermaid (up to the most recently released chapter) and wanted to process it - spoilers under the cut. 

First off, since only about the first 39 chapters or so are translated into English, my understanding of the events after that is much spottier, but I think I was able to follow the main character dynamics and plot points. I also didn’t know much about the Japanese occupation of Korea beforehand (and still don’t know a ton now beyond what’s touched on in the manhwa).

Regardless, I can say even without knowing Korean that the art is gorgeous with great colors, lighting, and details; the characters are fleshed out well and the women play prominent roles; and the motifs of the Little Mermaid, the ocean, being a fish are used beautifully and compellingly. For example, I loved how the water which Yoonhwa is that allows Soo-a to breathe is described to be living in is “poison” in ch 14 - I think referring to the patriarchy that resulted in Yoonhwa’s treatment and also how even someone from a high status, Japanese-pleasing family like her is still susceptible to the toxic impact of Japanese occupation. 

Though to be honest, the main reason I’m writing is the process the character Haesoo, whom I didn’t think too much of initially but eventually became the most interesting character to me. He clearly has lived an extremely sad life and feels the effects of the trauma inflicted throughout the fight for Korean independence keenly. He’s a great foil to Eui-hyeon - arguably more morally gray, more viscerally/personally traumatized by violence - which I think results in the “fear” that Haesoo admits to feeling before their mission that Eui-hyeon does not. While Eui-hyeon teaches Soo-a how to read and write, Haesoo teaches her how to use a weapon. Soo-a seems to trust Eui-hyeon implicitly while having a very justified aversion to Haesoo, and she’s driven throughout the story by both her feelings for the former and her desire to get revenge against the latter.

And I can’t not mention how the Haesoo and Soo-a relationship is rich and complicated. While not entirely surprising, I did not expect Haesoo to develop feelings for Soo-a in the way he clearly does. Even though I started the story mostly invested in the development between Soo-a and Eui-hyeon, and it’s clearly the more mutual, healthier relationship and isn’t short of thematic richness, I ended up wishing for more interactions between Haesoo and Soo-a (even though I knew it was never going to be a thing and probably shouldn’t in the narrative). 

Haesoo, of course, poisoned Soo-a, leaving her voiceless and traumatized. Soo-a understandably feels very on edge around him and tries to attack him when she sees him again for the first time. Haesoo also didn’t leave the experience without any scars, clearly feeling haunted himself for poisoning her even if he knows he would make the same decision again. 

I like how a recurring theme in their relationship is Haesoo being ready to die and Soo-a forcing/urging him to live - stopping Haesoo from taking the poison, carrying his wounded body to the monk’s place, yelling at him when he says he wants to rest. “Why do people throw their lives away so easily?” Soo-a asks, and I think it’s a well-established part of her character that she values life - she expresses great sorrow over the dead whale and urges the doctor to help Eui-hyeon.

It’s significant and shows Haesoo’s growth that his last words to Soo-a are asking her to live.

Now, it is indeed hard to see them as a healthy, feasible couple without a lot of development in fanfiction land (and also without Eui-hyeon out of the picture in some way), but I think it could be fun to write about their dynamic, which is certainly less wholesome and sweet than Eui-hyeon and Soo-a’s is, but I think still with care and respect (for the most part aha). 

I also find myself dwelling a lot on the monologue Haesoo has leading up to his death - especially the thought that Haesoo has about wondering about how he would have made the same choice if he had met Soo-a again in the same circumstance, and ultimately rejecting the idea of him owing his life to her like Eui-hyeon did in favor of the time in the mountain in the winter they shared together. (I think represented in the different fairy tales evoked for them - Little Mermaid vs Snow Maiden). 

“If I could go back to the mountain where I spent the winter with you, that’d be good.”

Part of me is just a sucker for any time a character wistfully says something like “I wish we could just go back to X time/location,” but I think it is also heartwarming that toward the end of his life, for someone who suffered so much tragedy and hardship and brushed with death on multiple occasions, he still ultimately really treasured his relationship with Soo-a and the brief period of time they were together.

I also find his final scene -- “waking up from a dream” in Yeonhaejoo with his brother Haeyoung and surrogate little sister Nokjoo beautifully tragic and fitting. I found it strange that we don’t see much of Haesoo mourning or generally thinking about Nokjoo after her death (unless there is more in the latter half of the series that I missed because of not understanding the Korean), especially compared to Soo-a who has known her for much less time. Of course, it’s clear he’s upset when she dies and he thinks of her when he breaks down in tears in front of Soo-a, but I wonder if part of his lack of thinking about it overtly can be explained by how much he acts toward her like he’s not secretly part of a dangerous Korean independence organization and tries to preserve her innocence as much as possible; i.e., he still mostly associates her with Yeonhaejoo. 

In the end, his last line is about his dream being in Joseon, which obviously refers to the physical location where he spent his life after leaving Yeonhaejoo, but also I think could refer to Soo-a, who is often representative of Joseon as a whole. 

[bookwyrminspiration]

oh gosh this is like the fourth ask ive sent you in maybe a few hours, but now im wondering how bronte was treated when he manifested as an inflictor. like. from what we know, there have been no other inflictors before or after bronte (until sophie) and like. it mustve been...pretty wild to develop an ability whose sole purpose is to hurt and inflict pain onto others in a society that is completely averse to violence.

and also i had a though recently- what if elves werent always averse to violence? weve had hints dropped that elves have done some pretty wild shit (i think theres a mention in a book somewhere that insinuates elves have a lot of power and have used it in battles before) and now im wondering if the damage caused by elven abilities getting out of hand led to the matchmaking system (in the way that the matchmaking would ensure that the "no violence" gene passed onto more people- and maybe it was even entirely artificial?) although im not too sure about that one.

BUT BACK TO BRONTE, i find it really interesting since like...i mean, people mustve done some studies on him, right? like, theyre not just gonna let a threat....wander around or something. especially depending on the age he manifested (and i dont think sophie unnaturally manifested her inflicting, so it seems to be brought upon by emotion and stress, which means that he couldve manifested at like. literally any age. i mean sophie was, what, really young? idk where im going with this since sophie's inflicting is artificial but yeah) so im just. what did they do????? i mean, there had to be something bronte was basing his lessons for sophie off of, so im assuming either he or others did some looking into how inflicting works, but honestly all the scenarios i can think of for that are. uh. kinda really awful?

idk where im going with this but. yeah. huh. thats a weird thing to think about. and something were never getting answers to. thats fun.

- pyro

(also it is very late so apologies for any misspellings and stuff!)

welcome back, pyro my beloved!! you're welcome to send as many asks as you want whenever you want--your insights are always fascinating

i feel like inflictors and mesmers might be treated similarly in elven society--grady did mention an interaction he had with Bronte where he received some advice about his ability once--because they hold a certain level of coercive power over others. it's like they're treated like a threat just because they have the potential to be one. the same way people assume grady mesmerizes others to get whatever he wants, they may assume Bronte would hurt anyone who doesn't give him what he wants, if that comparison makes sense

as for him being the only inflictor, we're left with the option that either he really is the only one, or there was someone else once who has since bit the dust, kicked the bucket, flown to close to the sun, some other strange idiom for dying. both have a lot of negative implications, but I'm gonna stick with the "he's the first and only" one for rn.

also, you're idea about elves not always being averse to violence prompts a lot of thought! what were they like before that? were there more volatile, destructive abilities? what was the world like back then that necessitated those abilities? what happened to those people and their abilities--i'm assuming they're dead now. and since elves are now averse to violence, those abilities are like dead abilities (like dead languages), as no one has them and no one will have them ever again. they're bodies couldn't handle it anymore.

kinda ties into the idea of matchmaking--although instead of the "no violence" gene I think they might've also tried to specifically keep the really powerful abilities from being passed on, things like Bronte's inflicting that appeared to be rooted entirely in violence. or! idea: what if there was something so horrific that happened as a result of elven violence that it permanently changed how they perceive it, becoming an instinctual need to get away from it. my brain is trying to relate this to the uncanny valley effect, like how it's this instinctual discomfort.

if i'm remembering correctly, sophie naturally manifested her inflicting when she was nine, so as long as bronte was stressed enough--and he wasn't living during a time of peace. i don't think the treaties had been established yet--he could reasonably manifest even younger. and this is an ability no one has seen before! here is this elven child, this small kid, just absolutely loosing it and hurting everyone around him. i think the only way Forkle got Sophie to stop was by inflicting back on her, but there wouldn't have been anyone able to do that for Bronte. I can't imagine he likes his ability, every time he's used it it's hurt someone. it was probably trial and error to teach him, maybe even him just abandoning what others were saying--because no one else had a violent ability and could understand--and just figured it out on his own. i'm fairly sure the knot of threads under the ribs trick Sophie uses is one Bronte developed himself, so I've just always thought he was using personal experience to teach her.

i also don't know where I'm going with this, but bronte as a whole is a very interesting character! there's so much about his backstory we don't know and probably never will. just inflicting as a whole stands out as an ability because it just doesn't make sense for an elf to have. if i don't stop now i never will, but those are some of my Thoughts !!

[silvokrent]

So since Tyrian's arrest screen didn't list everything he was wanted for, what else do you think he did? My brother thinks arson, I think more along the lines of torture.

It’d probably be easier to ask, “What crimes didn’t he commit?”

I think you’re both right. Arson and torture seem like equally valid possibilities, but they’d have to be the result of context and circumstance. On one hand, Tyrian always struck me as someone that’s adaptive, flexible, and capable of improvisation, which is why I doubt he’d be averse to either. On the other hand, Tyrian appears to have a modus operandi—speed and stealth. Like most Faunus, seeing in the dark (presumably with tapeta lucida, the eyeshine a lot of nocturnal and crepuscular animals have) affords him an advantage many of his victims lack. That, coupled with his stinger, sets him up by default for a very specific tactic: hit-and-run assassinations. Catch your target off-guard, deliver the killing blow, then melt back into the shadows before anyone’s the wiser. Fire lacks discretion, and torture involves prolonged interaction with the victim (which increases the odds of him getting caught, as time/duration would be proportionate to the risk of being discovered).

If a situation called for it (like setting a car on fire in order to distract pursuers), or he was contracted to complete a specific job (like torturing someone for information), then I could definitely see him committing arson and torture. But if he’s recreationally killing, then I think it’s more likely that he’d indulge in his preferred repertoire, envenomation and stabbing.

The nice thing about his criminal record being truncated (with a “see attachment for more details” appended to the file) with multiple redacted sections is that it leaves a lot of room for speculation. Bear in mind that much of this is either conjectural with little supporting evidence, or my personal headcanons.

One of the things that I found interesting about Tyrian’s character was his reverence of Salem. “Goddess” isn’t just an affectionate title or a term of endearment—he literally apotheosizes her. Compare that to how his teammates interact with her. While they treat her with respect, none of them use the same venerating language as Tyrian (“Your Grace,” “my lady,” “our divine savior,” “our goddess”). This tells us that his worship of her isn’t the norm amongst her followers, which also means that he has a reason for doing it.

Personally, I’ve never been a fan of labelling people who commit heinous crimes as crazy or insane—not only because it implicates nonviolent mentally ill and neurodivergent people, and scapegoats them for the actions of others—but because in this instance, it robs Tyrian of the complexity that comes with rationalizing one’s choices. Tyrian’s decision to deify Salem shouldn’t stem from some sort of psychopathology, but rather a logical, personal, or historical precedent.

Let’s reverse-engineer this thought process:

Tyrian worships Salem.

Salem (in Tyrian’s eyes) is the extreme embodiment, manifestation, or expression of cathartic violence.

Tyrian worships this form of violence.

And what else in RWBY’s universe embodies those traits?

The Creatures of Grimm.

So, with that in mind, let’s talk about all the illegal things Tyrian’s done over the course of his life, and more specifically, why.

Archotherolatry: This is a term I coined for my RWBY worldbuilding blog. If you break down the etymology, archotherian (Greek - ruling beast, the scientific term for Grimm) + -latry (Late Latin - worship of), it translates to “the worship of Grimm.” The practice was outlawed by the King of Vale (King Ozark) after the Great War. While the decision was rooted in common sense—like, you really don’t want people to see the Grimm as gods for fairly obvious reasons—Ozark had ulterior motives for outlawing it. You see, Ozark was one of Ozma’s incarnations, and the immediate predecessor of Ozpin. While archotherolatry had been falling out of favor over the last few centuries, it was still a religion with a presence in certain corners of Remnant. Salem used to recruit these cultists directly into her ranks. By making the practice illegal, Ozma was hoping to cut off a potential source of followers.

Prior to meeting Salem, Tyrian was one of the surviving few practitioners of the faith. Not only that, but he had a particular mania about it. Grimm worship in Remnant changed depending on where in the world you went, but one of the recurring practices involved human sacrifice. Now, while Tyrian didn’t subscribe to any specific holy doctrine and wasn’t a member of any secret groups, he did adhere to certain rites and ceremonies. He savored the taking of lives, but even more than that, he enjoyed offering up his victims to the Grimm. During the months that Pickerel spent hunting him down, his trails would often lead him to secluded areas outside cities or towns. There he’d often find a large ornately-detailed circle on the ground painted with blood, with the tattered corpse of the victim lying in the center. The surrounding trees and rocks would sport eye-like patterns drawn in blood, similar to the patterns seen on the bony white protrusions on a Grimm’s body.

When selecting potential victims, Tyrian didn’t discriminate. Gender, age, nationality, race, economic background—they all bleed red, so it didn’t matter. Not technically, anyway. That wasn’t to say he didn’t enjoy abducting business owners that were prejudiced against Faunus, or that he didn’t find ironic humor in sacrificing Huntsmen to the Grimm. He just wasn’t particularly choosy about who he sacrificed.

In a similar vein, I think this is how Salem first learned about Tyrian’s existence. Whenever her scouts or sentries returned to Evernight and reported in, they’d inform her about a man that would drag people into the woods and invite the Grimm to feast upon them. This possibility excited Salem for several reasons: not only was he predisposed to loyalty to her, but the fact that he’d clearly been doing these sacrifices for some time meant he was talented. It took a lot of skill to kill so many people without being caught by the authorities. She needed an assassin, and he would do perfectly.

When Tyrian wasn’t feeding people to the Grimm, he probably murdered for sport. He thrilled in the hunt, in the dizzying slick of blood beneath his fingers, the intoxicating coppery smell, the beautiful song of his victims as they cried, begged, and screamed. Acts of violence honor the Grimm, but in addition to that, he simply relished in the joy of killing. And he was good at it.

Of course, sacrificial manslaughter doesn’t pay the bills, so Tyrian had a day job. Well, I say “day job,” but it was more along the lines of contract killer/thief/kidnapper/smuggler. Tyrian operated largely out of Mistral’s criminal underworld, particularly in the capital (though depending on the work he was doing, he’d travel to Wind Path or Kuchinashi). Potential clients sought him out and hired him for any number of jobs: collect the debt that this person owes me and kill them if they refuse to pay; abduct the member of this rival syndicate and bring them to these coordinates; assassinate someone for me, and bring back proof that they’re dead; transport this contraband (weapons, drugs, Dust) and ensure the shipment arrives safely; kill these people and destroy the evidence; capture this person and extract information from them by whatever means necessary; follow this person without being detected, and collect information about their routine. Although Tyrian preferred jobs that involved bloodshed, he’d still accept contracts for more mundane work (even if he found it somewhat boring). Tyrian didn’t have a ton of dealbreakers in terms of jobs, though he refused to do anything that involved sexual assault. (Even serial killers have standards.)

Destruction of public and private property was likely an unintended or indirect consequence of his work. As much as Tyrian enjoyed wanton carnage, he prided himself on being stealthy and thus had to exercise some level of restraint, so as to not leave behind damning evidence in the form of collateral damage. Breaking a window or kicking in a door is a liability. Accidentally setting off a Dust explosion is a good way for the authorities to track you. That being said, there were a few memorable occasions where Tyrian absolutely wrecked shit up. Perhaps the most noteworthy of these was the day that he was finally captured by Atlesian and Mistrali law enforcement. On the day of his arrest, Tyrian caused nearly 50,000 lien’s worth of property damage, including the destruction of three Paladins.

Tyrian’s name, while spoken among the criminal element, was unknown to the public. Even so, he garnered a reputation as Anima’s most infamous serial killer. People often referred to him by his title: The Ghost in the Mist. (Years later, a documentary by the same name was released. It was an hour-long production that detailed his activity in Mistral, all of his victims, an analysis of his signature, and other relevant or interesting trivia. It even featured an interview with Pickerel, prior to his death. Tyrian absolutely loves this documentary and has re-watched it several times.)

I’m sure there’s more that he’s done that I can’t think of presently, but hopefully this gives you a general idea of all the criminal activity I think he’s committed.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Eidolon 15 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:  AU: What started off as the result of a simple act of rebellion ends up causing his life to spin out of control. How will young Danny cope with the results as well as a past that has a strange habit of coming back to haunt him.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, kidnapping, and various other things

Chapter warnings: Entrapment

Parings: hints of Danny/Sam much later on

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumbl

15.  Unraveling Secrets

"Danny… Danny… It's time to get up…"

The dark haired boy's form remained unresponsive and face down on the bed which had been brought in for him. Hesitantly, Maddie ran her hand through the boy's dark locks. After finding out the child was her son, she had wanted to keep her distance from him. Not only did she not know how to connect to him, but he was already turning into a monster. Sure, he seemed fine now, but it was only a matter of time before he was corrupted.

But, try as she might, when she saw him in such a bruised and battered form, she couldn't help herself. If only she and Jack could have completed their work… or if she had been able to expose Vlad for what he really was, then maybe Danny would have had a completely normal life. But it was useless to dwell on 'what ifs'; they held no purpose other than to draw her into a darker state of mind. It didn't matter he could still take a human appearance. The fact of the matter was Danny was no longer human, and nothing was going to change it.

Unsurprisingly, Danny was not taking the drastic change to his life all that well. He still was having difficulty understanding how he was a ghost, even though he had never died. His confusion was only made worse when he learned Vlad's abilities were gained artificially, unlike him. It was made worse by the various accidents he would have throughout the day. His body was still trying to settle from the unnatural awaking it received and would occasionally surge with power and cause one of his powers to activate unintentionally. It usually wasn't too bad, unless he managed to get his arm or leg stuck in something.

Vlad refused to give him time to adjust either. Every day, usually shortly after breakfast, he would unceremoniously take Danny and train him. Though Vlad had assured her he was only trying to help the boy gain control, Maddie remained suspicious. If Danny was simply learning how to handle his basic powers, than there was no reason for him to return covered in cuts and bruises. Both she and Jazz had tried to get him to explain what exactly Vlad was doing to him, but he rarely answered, usually due to exhaustion.

What really surprised her was how well Jazz had taken to the role of big sister. Though she hesitantly had agreed to not let Danny know they were family, she quickly began to bond with and fuss over him. At first Danny was unsure how to respond to her attention, but soon learned to accept it. The two of them were truly beginning to look like siblings. Maddie attributed it to Jazz's uncanny ability to adjust to ghosts.

For years, the only interaction she and Jazz had were Vlad and his ghostly servants who looked after them. Though she was very wary towards them, Jazz turned towards them for companionship for years. She never seemed bothered by their unnatural appearances and abilities. It even got to the point where one of the servants, a teenage ghost by the name of Ember, had become so close to Jazz, she willing tried to help them escape. The result was disastrous in more ways than one. The escape failed, and Jazz lost her friend. Until that point in time, Maddie didn't know it was possible to destroy a ghost.

Though it took time, Jazz did bounce back from the event, but she was more hesitant to become too friendly with them. Perhaps this was the reason she had latched onto Danny. Vlad needed him, so Danny was more protected against possible 'digressions' he may commit against Vlad. But, Jazz didn't know her brother was not going to remain the same, and Maddie didn't have the heart to tell her.

A slight groan indicated to her Danny was finally starting to wake. She moved away as he slowly sat up and stretched. "I don't understand it…" he finally mumbled after several minutes as he moved off the bed which had been brought in for him. "There are no clocks… anywhere… How do you know what time it is?"

Maddie raised an eyebrow at the question. "There is a chiming system built into the walls, which let us know the time. Besides, what would we do with one in this prison?"

He gave her a blank look before shaking his head. "That makes sense… I guess… But, he doesn't even have clocks in the main part of the house."

That was a surprise. But now that she thought about it, she had noticed Vlad had an odd aversion to clocks, even when he was working with her and her husband. If one were in the room, he'd either remove it, turn it around so the face was towards the wall, or cover it, depending on the size. She had asked him about it once, but he only gave a vague response about a strange and unsettling meeting he had years prior.

"Don't worry about it too much," she told as she directed him towards the breakfast table where Jazz and a stack full of fresh pancakes were waiting for them. "You'll eventually get used to it." Her tone effectively ended the conversation. It was better to leave the man's idiosyncrasies alone. "Now, what would you like to drink?"

"Okay… Oh, I wanted to ask you this last night, but I uh… kinda feel asleep before I could… Has Vlad ever showed you that book?

Maddie dropped the glass she was holding. Jazz gave a cry of concern, but she ignored her in order to stare at the boy. "Wh-what book?"

Danny's expression which had been clouded with exhaustion moments before was now focused and wary. "I don't know what it's called… but it's really old looking and Vlad's been using it like a guidebook or something. Every time we try something new he has to look at it first. Once we're done, he usually checks it out again and gets angry…"

"That's…" she stopped herself before she could say more. She knew exactly what the book was, but anyone who had been under Vlad's supervision for sometime knew to not mention it. But, Danny would have to be warned about it somehow. "I guess Vlad does somewhat consider it like a guide… There are many old stories in it…"

"So… does it have stories about people like… like me…?" A combination of curiosity and unease crossed his face. "Is… that why he looks at it so much?"

Maddie shook her head. "It's best to push it from your mind. Its pages contain dark words and are best left alone. Besides, Vlad has been known to punish people who have asked about it."

"But…!"

"Sweetie, while it's true Vlad seems to take it at face value, it's just a book," Maddie told him in a stern voice which effectively ended the conversation. It was clear he still wanted to argue, but a glare from her kept him silent. Even though she was sure he didn't know she was his biological mother, he knew there was no point in continuing. Perhaps it was a skill all kids had to some extent. She looked at him again as she regained her composure. "There's no point in worrying about it right now. You have practice later, so you might as well eat up. So, what do you want to drink?"

…

Like usual, Vlad returned Danny shortly before dinner. However, unlike the previous times, Danny didn't join them at the table. Instead, he immediately attempted to stumble towards the closest couch. As soon as his body hit the pillow, he fell asleep immediately.

Concerned, Maddie immediately went to check on him. Danny was breathing regularly and there didn't seem to be any new injuries. It was surprising; even with previous injuries, Danny was at least able to have some dinner and freshen up before resting. "What did you do to him?" she demanded of the ghost who was still lingering in the room. "You didn't let that Spectra near him did you?"

A cold glare was her immediate answer. Knowing she wouldn't be deterred, Vlad gave a suffering sigh before properly responding. "Though he will need to learn how to handle creatures like her, I was not planning on introducing them until he had better control of his abilities." He glanced at the boy before continuing. "Apparently, I have been pushing him a little too hard. Though I am anxious for the first phase of my plans to begin, there is still plenty of time. I think I can push back the boy's training for tomorrow until another day." With that, he bid her and Jazz a farewell and disappeared.

Still worried for Danny's wellbeing, Maddie tried to rouse him, but he didn't respond. "Mom… just let him rest for now," Jazz told her softly as she gently tried to pull her away. "He's breathing right? So, let him sleep for a little. You can try and rouse him a little later."

…

It was a little after one in the morning when Maddie decided it was a good time for her to turn in for the night. Looking around the room as she stood up, she caught sight of her children. Jazz had once again managed to fall asleep while reading, so she went over and pulled the covers over her. It was easy to do so as the room was never completely dark. Yes, the lights dimmed around ten at night, but they never actually turned off.

After putting Jazz's book away, she decided to check on Danny. For hours, he hadn't moved, but she was surprised to find him sitting up on the couch, staring at the ceiling. She was about to ask him what he was doing when movement caught her attention. Turning towards the source, she saw a glowing figure coming closer to them. Concerned, she grabbed her staff (which Vlad surprisingly hadn't confiscated yet) and charged it.

Mere inches from the ghost's face, a sharp cry and tug stopped her in her tracks. Glancing to her left, she saw Danny had somehow managed to get up and grab hold of her arm in just a matter of moments. "Stop! Don't touch him… err… me!"

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

Danny hesitantly let go of her once he realized she wasn't actively trying to hurt the ghost. He gestured to the ghost, which she hadn't really taken the time to examine until then. She quickly gasped when she realized the ghost was an exact double of Danny in his ghost form. The only difference was this one was holding a rather old book.

"Sweet! You managed to get it!" Danny told it as it took the book away from it. "Thanks!"

"No problem," the ghost replied before it turned seemingly turned to mist and was absorbed into Danny.

Rather terrified and more than a little startled, she stared at the boy. Words failed her, so she was just left grasping for sounds as he nervously looked down at his feet. "Wh-what…?" she eventually stuttered.

"Uh… that was a duplicate. I found out how to do that by accident a few days ago when Vlad knocked me through a wall," he mumbled as he continued to keep his head down. "But, trying to keep one stable for long periods of time is tricky, that's why I was asleep for so long…"

"You were trying to give energy to the duplicate?" Maddie asked as Danny nodded. In all honesty, she was amazed. Duplication was a rather rare technique which could only be performed by high level ghosts. The only one she had ever encountered who could do so was Vlad, but he had admitted it had taken at least ten years for it to develop. For Danny to begin tapping into it so quickly after his transformation was astounding.

As her amazement began to wane to a more manageable level, she gave the boy in front of her a concerned glance. "But, I don't understand… Why would you need to make one in the first place?" There was no answer for a moment as she realized what exactly was in the boy's hands. "That book… Don't tell me…!"

"You said he uses this thing as a guidebook."

"That doesn't mean you should have taken it!"

"I don't understand you!" Danny's head snapped up as he spoke so he could stare at her with his icy eyes which were slowly turning green, most likely without his knowledge. "You want to escape from here, don't you? Then why don't you want to know what he's planning?"

"It won't do us any good!"

"So you've just given up?" Giving an angry sigh, Danny put the book down on a nearby table and turned away from her as he began to open it. "I don't know about you, but no matter what, I am getting out of here."

Unsure what to do, Maddie just stayed silent as the boy leafed through the dark book. Though she didn't want to admit it, she had given up. Within Vlad's game, he held all of the pieces in his hands. All he needed to do was perform the necessary moves and all was lost. How could she continue to believe when there was nothing else she could do?

"Danny…" she called out softly as moved besides him as his face contorted due to the grotesques images within the book. After carefully closing it, she turned to the boy and looked straight into his eyes. "I already know what Vlad's planning… I've known it for years." It took all of her willpower to continue looking at him as she spoke her next words. "The demons depicted in there… he wants to you to become like them."

A horrified expression crossed his face, before it turned into one of disbelief and amusement. "You had me going there for a moment," he told her between laughs. "There's no way I would ever consider acting like that. Besides, I'm supposed to be a ghost, not a demon."

"You don't understand… The changes… they've already started."

xxx

It had been months since Danny disappeared, and no one had been able to make any progress. To Sam, it was beyond frustrating. Tucker had managed to uncover who had taken their friend. Heck, he even had physical proof by way of a video, but they couldn't do anything with it. If it was taken to the police, it was quite possible it would simply be dismissed or cause them to be arrested. No matter the result, it wouldn't be positive.

However, the news had managed to grab hold of the story of Danny's disappearance. Yet, instead of making him out to be a victim, they portrayed him as a criminal who was involved in the attack on his guardian and ran away afterwards. With Winston still in a coma, no one had bothered to correct them. She had tried both in writing and in person to get them to change the story, but each station refused to listen to a teenager. It appeared the truth wasn't anywhere as interesting as the lies they had created.

Unsure what to do, she had become even more withdrawn and moody than usual. It was so bad that even Tucker was giving her space, though he wasn't completely avoiding her. Usually he would send a message to her once a day letting her know his progress in trying to bypass Vlad's security and get into his computer system at his mansion. For unknown reasons, he kept having difficulty, but he was bound and determined to find a way in.

She had tried to come up with plans which would allow her and Tucker to infiltrate Vlad's mansion and rescue Danny, but none were feasible. She also had to keep in mind the ghosts who had gone after Danny. Not only were they dangerous, but she had no idea if they were involved in the kidnapping or not. But, if they were, she had no way of fighting back against them even if she could find Danny.

Beyond frustrated and unsure what to do, she began taking long walks to try and clear her mind. Though her parents frowned upon due to the recent unsettling events within the town, they had decided to not interfere. Sam guessed that even her overly perky parents couldn't handle her rather current mood for more than a few days at a time. Smart move on their part. But, if they knew exactly where she tended to go, they would interfere.

Though she didn't particularly like the place, she was constantly wondering around the cemetery, much like Danny used to do. Sure it was peaceful, dark, and rather deserted, she didn't exactly like being so close to the dead for long periods of time, especially if she was alone. It unnerved her more than she cared to admit, and it wasn't entirely from past events. But, the location helped clear her mind, and she had a secret hope she would spot Danny near one of the trees. It was where she had first found him, and it just felt right it would be where he returned.

Yet, he was never there. Just like this particular evening, she had wondered around without finding a living soul. Deciding it was a little too early to head home, she decided to take a break on one of the many benches scattered throughout the grounds.

Glancing upwards, she caught sight of the emerging stars. The temperature would begin dropping drastically soon and with the recent snowfall, it would be more than a little cold. Sighing, she stood back up and began moving back towards the entrance. It wouldn't do her or Danny any good if she managed to get sick from the weather.

As per habit, when she neared the location where she first met Danny, she gave a quick glance. Of course there was nothing, but as she was about to turn away, something caught her attention. Unsure what exactly it was, she stopped moving and continued to look at the spot. After a few moments, Sam shook her head and continued walking. She was being silly.

Sam…

She stopped dead in her tracks. Someone had just called her name… but she was sure there was no one else in the area. Pulling her coat a little tighter around her form, she tried to suppress her shivers from both the chilly air and her nerves. It must have just been the whispers of the wind. With her being so stressed she must have mistaken the sounds.

Sam… Please…

There it was again, and it definitely wasn't the wind. Scared, she spun around in an attempt to find the person who had to be playing a trick on her. But again, she only found the general scenery of the cemetery. "Whoever it is, this isn't funny!" she shouted, as she tried to convince herself it had to be a person. Why would a ghost know her name? There wasn't anything special about her which would attract them, or at least she hoped not.

"Sam… it's me…."

The voice came from directly in front of her, but there was still no one there. Having too much past experience with ghosts, she knew it wasn't a good idea to ignore the possibility one was truly there. She wanted to run, but it would easily be able to catch her… and Danny wasn't around to save her again.

Wait… Danny. It couldn't be, but the voice did have a similar sound to his, though it was distinctly otherworldly. It almost seemed like the owner was speaking from the back of a cave. It was low and had a distinctive echo. But, unlike the other ghosts she had encountered, it did not seem overly hostile. Swallowing her fear, she finally spoke back. "I don't know who you are, but you better show yourself!"

After a tense pause, she looked around for something… what, she wasn't entirely sure. Nothing had answered her, which was almost as unsettling as the voice coming out of air. Chuckling at her idiocy, she began walking again. She really needed to find a way to relax; the stress of trying to find Danny was starting to get so bad she was starting to hear things.

She had made it a few yards when she felt a hand gently grab her shoulder and turn her around. A scream escaped from her lips as she fell and scooted away from the figure who had suddenly appeared out of thin air. He appeared to be around her own height with striking white hair and vivid green eyes. His clothes seemed normal enough; they were black with white accents in a style which almost resembled that of a more reserved rocker though they were partially concealed by a large book he was holding. But, soon she realized he wasn't wearing a coat and seemed unfazed by the cold temperature. However, the truly unnerving aspect about him was the strange glow which surrounded his body, immediately indicated he was a ghost.

"…I'm sorry…" he said carefully as he winced. "It tends to take me a little bit of time to become visible. I'm not all that good at this yet…" He carefully moved towards her and held out his hand. "Are… you okay?"

Sam just stared. Was this ghost honestly offering to help her up? Unsure what exactly to do, she decided to study him more. He was extremely human looking in appearance. If it wasn't for the glow, he could easily pass off as a teenager with an extreme rebellious streak. Though it was rare, she had encountered a few goths who had actually dyed their hair white. He was also standing on the ground as if it was perfectly normal. Though she had seen the other ghost, Skulker, do the same, it didn't seem as natural.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," the boy said with a grin as he realized he she wasn't going to take his hand. Sam once again just stared. Did he really just say that? "Sorry," he said quickly as he chuckled, "I couldn't resist. But, I promise I won't hurt you."

"What's with that look?" he asked when she just raised an eyebrow. "Sam, I just want to talk to you… and I don't have a lot of time to do it."

"Why do you know my name?" Sam asked as she slowly got off the ground. Unsure if he would keep to his word or not, she watched him carefully the entire time she moved. But, he remained still and stared at her with wide eyes.

"You don't… you don't recognize me…" The boy was clearly upset by his revelation. Though he didn't say anything immediately, Sam could tell he was deciding how to approach the situation. Eventually, he sighed and looked straight into her eyes. "Sam… It's me, Danny."

Shock quickly turned to anger. "How dare you!" she hissed at him. "How dare you pretend to be my missing friend!" Ignoring the idea it was probably a stupid thing to do, she threw a punch at the ghost. Unsurprisingly, she did not hit a solid target; instead she felt as if she was passing through an extremely cold block of pudding and lost her balance. However, instead of hitting the ground, a cold hand managed to catch her and keep her from falling. Spinning around, she tried to hit the ghost, who simply let go of her and held up his arm in defense. His other arm was still keeping hold of the book.

"Look… I'm sorry, Sam! But I can't appear in my human form right now… it's not safe!" he said quickly as he looked at her from under his arm.

Hesitating at the look he gave her, she didn't immediately swing at him again. If she got past the unnatural appearance, he did look somewhat like Danny. No! She couldn't think like that! If she accepted that the ghost in front of her was the same as her friend, than it meant that Danny was… he was… !

Her thoughts were interrupted as the ghost shoved the book he was holding at her. Instinctively, she caught it and was surprised to find how heavy it was. Confused and still angry, she looked at the ghost who was giving her a pleading look. "There's not a lot of time until he finds out that I'm gone. You need to take this… It will give you some idea of what Vlad's planning… and though I hate to say it, but I think that picture we found here the day after I met you and Tucker came from this book." He paused for a moment as he looked to the side as if he heard something before turning back to her. "Just be careful… It's not the sort of book you would read as a bedtime story."

As he moved away from her, she tried to process what she had just heard. "How do you know about that picture…?" she asked as that notion became the dominate thought in her mind.

"Sam… I was there, remember?" he said impatiently. "We found it after you and Tucker found out that Winston's my guardian and not my actual parent. But, that doesn't really matter right now. You've got to try to stop Vlad from the outside… Not only is he planning something big, but there are others he's held captive."

"Others? Vlad? What are you talking about?"

He just shook his head. "I'm sorry, I wish I could explain better, but I can't stay any longer. It's too dangerous." As if that was the cue, he began floating a few inches from the ground. He gave her a longing look before raising his hand, almost as if he was saying 'goodbye'. "I hope this isn't the last time I get to see you… Try to stay safe." Without another word, he vanished as suddenly as he appeared.

"Wait…!" she cried out as she tried to stop him, but she was unable to tell if he was still around or not. Though she really didn't want to trust the ghost, she did have questions for him. How in the world did he know about the picture she, Danny, and Tucker had found? He apparently even knew about the events leading up to the discovery. Did that mean he was really Danny?

She really didn't want to believe it, but she was starting to get a sinking suspicion it was truth. Maybe when she went home and was able to gather her thoughts, she would have a better understanding of the situation. Not just of the ghost's identity, but also of the other information and various questions swimming through her mind. But, she did know one thing for a fact: Tucker was never going to believe her.

[scripttorture]

I have a bit of a situation in a fanwork I'm writing, one of the characters (H) has undergone a weeklong period of isolation. For most of that time he is isolated, and for the first few days he's been deprived of food and water. However, midway through this, H had a biological cycle happen that made the people holding him deeply uncomfortable. In this universe, people form strong emotional bonds to each other (which these characters have) and are incredibly reluctant to hurt another (1/?)

(2/?)and these characters, who were already questioning this decisionimmediately feel uncomfortable. L doesn't want to stop the tortureitself but does want to to d it down in severity (H had tried tomutiny against them and severely injured a non bonded crew member soshe wants information) but D thinks they should stop it as much aspossible. L puts D in charge of bringing him rations and eventually Dsympathizes with H to the point where he convinces L to stop itentirely, but because(3/?)of H's bad self esteem in regards to said biological process, he'saverse to people touching him during this time and literally screamsat D to leave him alone on multiple occasions and nearly cries at onepoint. This biological process is also usually a sex trope, and Hends up kissing D a short time afterwards but freaks out the secondhe starts thinking clearly and threatens him with a weapon. It is ofnote that they've had a fight over H and his position in society b4,but grew(4/?)past that and were close friends up till H attempted to mutiny. Thisis based off of events in canon, and given the organization they workin (and the fact that there's multiple mutinies handled this way) Isuspect that isolation is protocol. H has worked for thisorganization for awhile and would know this, and even be equipped forhandling aftermath as a medical officer. Given his position in it hemight also know how to handle aftermath on himself (if possible). Myquestion is(5/?) how would this affect H (he has previous trauma andis naturally untrusting and has difficulty making significantrelationships), as well as the relationship between the characters,given that they end up having to deal with far worse people who endup torturing L, H, and another character again. (L goes through whatH went through for the most part, poetically). It is also notablethat D offers to stop the isolation earlier but H tells him to fuckoff and leave him alone to handle it himself bc of how much beingaround other people upsets him during this time (during previouscycles, he has intentionally isolated himself for long moments oftime), and D does so up to a point when he can't follow through withthat anymore

Myability to answer this is hampered by the fact that a central themeis a pseudo-biological cycle that’s outside reality.

I’veleft this for quite some time because I’m honestly not sure how tobalance the fantasy elements with reality. In this case I think thefantasy elements are too big of an influence for me to really….knowwhat’s ‘realistic’ in this situation.

Allthe research I’m drawing from doesn’t have anything even close tothis pseudo-biological cycle.

So-I’m not sure how much I can do with this. You’ve constructed thecharacters in a way which means they don’t behave like normalpeople any more, they no longer have human brains.

Ican talk about the effects these techniques would ordinarily have andgive my opinion of the responses you’ve planned for the characters.But I’m going to have to completely ignore a central element of thestory to do so and….I’m not sure how helpful the answer is goingto be as a result.

Thetime frame you’ve got for isolation and starvation seems reasonableand wouldn’t be life threatening to most healthy people. It wouldleave the victim physically weakened and with a longer reaction time.He’d also be starting to show the psychological symptoms ofstarvation and solitary confinement which youcan read about here andhere respectively.

Ifthis system of neglect and isolation is routine in the setting thenthe character mighthavea good idea of what care should look like. But that doesn’t meanthat knowledge would be helpful or that he’d be able to apply it tohimself.

Hemight, for instance, be able to consciously recognise that much ofwhat he’s feeling is influenced by not having enough to eat. Hemight even be able to pinpoint particular feelings and behaviours asbeing caused by starvation. But that won’t make the feelings goaway.

Bothof these tortures are depriving someone of a thing they need tosurvive. Recognising the symptoms won’t fill that gap. I think thatthere would be a limited amount he could do for himself beyondacknowledge that these states are temporary and he could recoverlater.

Myown experience of mental health problems is that it’s perfectlypossible to know whysomething you feel is irrational or unhealthy and be unable todistance yourself from the feeling anyway. I think when the feelingswe’re talking about are physiological responses to very specificbodily needs (ie food and water) then it would be even harder toachieve that distance.

Ifhe was starved over a more prolonged period I think that effect wouldbe even more pronounced. As it is- well the time frame makes it lesslikely he’d be outright irrational, but irritable, aggressive,depressive, apathetic and suffering from mood swings- well thatsounds likely.

Ifyou’re writing the pseudo-biological cycle as a way ofstrengthening social bonds in a group (ie it generally makesindividuals closer whether they’re having sex or not) then I thinkit would make sense to show the symptoms of solitary confinementhitting the character harder. Because if the idea is the turn theprocesses that help us bond socially up to 11 then I think it wouldmake sense that depriving someone of those bonds would have a moreacute affect.

Inthe same way that depriving children of food has a more profoundeffect on them physiologically, stunting their growth andintelligence and possibly having epigenetic* effects that are passedon as far as their grandchildren.

Asfor the character’s responses. I think H’s response, these moodswings and aggressive pushing away of the abusive character, works.Both of these symptoms can be caused by starvation and solitaryconfinement and they tend to persist for a while after a starvingperson has enough to eat.

Invictims who are confined for longer periods it’s pretty common forthem to act aggressively towards other people when they appear. Partof that is the natural antagonism torture victims feel towards peoplethey blame for their suffering (a category that can encompass morethan torturers).

ButShalev suggests that it’s also to do with getting a responsehowever negative. People insolitary confinement quickly ‘learn’ that behaving well doesn’tget them the human contact they desperately need. Some people canrespond to that by behaving ‘badly’ instead, vandalising theircell/furniture, making a mess and insulting or attacking guards.Because they’re so desperate for human interaction that evennegative reactions and violence seem preferable to being ignored.

Whenit comes to writing relationships I try to stick to howrealistic/reasonable I think an interaction/progression is orsuggesting possible alternatives. I personally dislike the style ofwriting advice that tells people what they ‘must’ do.

Idon’t think there’s any one formulaic way to write anythingcorrectly. What’s right for your story and these characters will bedifferent to what’s right for other works. The effects torture hason survivors are highly individual and complex. So are therelationships that survivors have with other people. Ithink having that variety and nuance in fiction is important.

So-I’m not going to tell you how these relationships ‘should’ bewritten. What I’m going to do is unpack what I see you describingbehaviour wise and how realistic/reasonable I think that is. I’llalso talk a little bit about some of the options you have here.

Generally-you seem to be leaning in to the idea of H being particularlyantagonistic towards D. I think that makes sense, especially since Dis the character he has most contact with. Despite D’s intentionsto end the abuse it would make sense that H could see D as theprimary abuser.

The...individualsand circumstances traumatised people latch on to and come toassociate with abuse are not necessarily logical. Antagonism canextend far beyond the people directly responsible for abuse,encompassing a whole group of people with perceived similarities (ienationality, race, gender).

Survivorscan also latch on to the peoplethey see every day even if they know logically that these peoplearen’t wholly responsible for the situation. A guard who hands outreduced rations could easily be hated and blamed for a prison-widepolicy of starvation. The guard is responsible for going along withand enforcing the policy as an individual, but probably didn’tpersonally ensure it was implemented and wouldn’t be able to carryon enforcing it without wider organisational support.

SoI think the way you’re highlighting this antagonism on H’s partmakes sense.

Butthat does affect where H’s future relationship with D can go. It’sperfectly possible for H to reach a point where he can acceptlogically that D was doing the ‘best he could’ in an awfulsituation while stillfeeling extremely antagonistic towards D and finding positiveinteraction difficult/impossible.

Ifyou wanted to move their relationship beyond that I think it wouldtake a lot of time, patience and compassion. It would require H tohave a strong desire to get past this, which he may not necessarilyhave.

@scripttraumasurvivorshas written quite a few useful posts on tackling the relationshipbetween abusers and survivors if/when abusers ‘get better’.

Thetrauma H associates with D is unlikely to go away. That isn’t tosay that their relationship can’t get better than it currently is,but I think you need to think carefully about how good it couldreasonably be with all this baggage. It’s also important toconsider at every step whether the narrative is straying towardsexcusing D’s complicity in the abuse H suffers.

SinceH has been traumatised before and generally finds trust difficultthen I think this series of incidents (because you seem to bedescribing two counts of torture here, one at the hands of L and Dand another later on where L is also victimised) would hugely impacthis recovery. H is probably going to feel as if he’s steppedbackwards and ended up in the same place he was when he wasoriginally traumatised or somewhere worse. Any difficulty he hasrelating to other people or trusting them is likely to be magnified.

Hissymptoms (which ever ones you’ve picked for him) are going to getworse. He may acquire new symptoms, new expressions of old symptomsand new triggers. That will make dealing with his symptoms moredifficult because old coping strategies may no longer work.

Fromthe way you’ve characterised him so far I think he’d find it verydifficult to accept help from others and impossible to seek it out.It seems likely that he’d come out of these incidents furtherisolated.

Ifthere are characters that you think he’d feel safe around and beable to accept help from it’s likely he’d still struggle withbasic social interaction. You’re describing a pattern of moodswings and aggression that- well basically a lot of people finddifficult to deal with and patterns of behaviour like that can bevery difficult for survivors to recognise and break. Especially inthe immediate and short term aftermath of a traumatising event.

Ifeel like I have less of a clear idea of L than I do of H and D.You’ve described both H and D in so detail and their interactions,whereas L seems to have been mostly characterised by sticking rigidlyto this idea that torture is an essential response to treachery.

Lseems to be responding to the situation involving H with a mindsetthat seems very typical of a torturer. D isn’t. To me that seems toimply that L has been torturing for longer and could therefore havemore symptoms than D at the outset.

Aswith H another traumatic event (being tortured later) is only goingto worsen those symptoms. It’s likely L would gain new symptoms.

Forboth H and L post traumatic stress disorder is more likely becausethey’ve both been traumatised multiple times.

Ithink depending on the symptoms you pick and the amount that H hascontact with L while being abused by L and D- you could potentiallywrite them with a more positive relationship than H and D. It’sstill likely to be incredibly complicated and not necessarilyhealthy.

Ithink the deciding factors are likely to be how much H blames L forbeing tortured and how much he sympathises with L when both of themare being tortured. No contact when L is responsible for H’s abuseand a lot of contact when they’re both being abused by someone elsecould result in a more ‘positive’ outlook from H’s side. It’sstill not likely to be hugely positive though.

FromL’s side a lot is going to depend on how much they cling on to theidea of H as a traitor who ‘deserves’ punishment. From what yououtlined I think you could reasonably write L lashing out towards Hwhile both of them are being tortured. If L sees H’s actions asabsolutely inexcusable then torture is not going to change that viewpoint and make L suddenly more sympathetic to H’s plight. They mayeven respond with a knee-jerk ‘well you deserved it but I don’t’sort of response.

Whichis unlikely to result in positive interaction.

Combiningall of these complicated layers of antagonism, symptoms and responseswith the pseudo-biological cycle in your story could result in somevery interesting relationships. From your outline it sounds as ifyou’ve got a group of characters who are all likely to have somesort of severe mental health problem and are largely antagonistictowards each other. But at the same time their ‘bond’ could bedriving them to stay close to each other, seek out each other’scompany and perhaps even attempt to protect each other.

Tome that sounds like a very interesting set of internal conflicts evenif it is pretty far from reality.

Italso seems like a reasonable way of blending fantasy and realitywithout falling into torture apologia. The unrealistic elements arevery clearly tied to the fantasy biology.

Overall,I think this has the potential to be really good. A lot is going todepend on the execution and how you balance the different elements inthe story. The emotional elements across the different characterscould be especially challenging. Sticking to one first personnarrative point view might limit your ability to explore theemotional conflict you’ve set up in the other characters. Multiplepoints of view or a third person overarching narration may be aneasier approach.

Ihope that helps. :)

*Epigeneticsare a sort of rewritable code on top of DNA. They’re instructionsto the body to turn certain genes on or off, expressing them inparticular places to different degrees. The body rewrites them inresponse to environmental stimulus. Some of them seem to be heritableand in rats certain diets during pregnancy have been shown to change epigeneticmarkers in mothers vs their children (ie both have a particular gene but itis expressed in the parent and ‘off’ in the offspring).

Disclaimer

[emjenenla]

I'm Holding On; Why is Everything so Heavy? [a SoC Fanfic]

Modern AU. Kaz knew he only was only asking because he thought he was supposed to. Most people were like that; Kaz’s multiple lives and many secrets relied on it.

Warnings: violence, panic attacks, PTSD, mentions of car accidents, near drowning, sex trafficking

Title: I'm Holding On; Why is Everything so Heavy?

Author: Emjen Enla (Fanfiction)/emjenenla (Tumblr)

Teaser: Modern AU. Kaz knew he only was only asking because he thought he was supposed to. Most people were like that; Kaz’s multiple lives and many secrets relied on it.

Rating: PG-13/T

Canon/Timeline: Modern AU; same general time frame as SoC (Kaz is seventeen, Jordie is four years older which means he’s twenty-one)

Dominant Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jordie Rietveld, appearances by Jesper Fahey, Nina Zenik, Alina Starkov, Per Haskell, mentions of Pekka Rollins, Jan Van Eck, Wylan Van Eck, Mal Oretsev, one OC, various others

Pairings: technically more Kaz & Inej friendship than legitimate Kanej, mentions of Wesper

Warnings: violence, panic attacks, PTSD, mentions of car accidents, near drowning, sex trafficking

Notes:

- Long story short, I became obsessed with the idea of Kaz in a hoodie riding a subway with earbuds in so no one would try to talk to him and this fic happened. I hope you all enjoy. :)

-Special thanks to wylanvanwreck on AO3 and their story The Mighty Dregs as well as a post by @crows-and-co. Both formed the basis of the thought experiment that became Kaz in this AU.

-Also, why is Jordie in the Fanfiction archive character list as Joshie R.?

Disclaimer: I don’t own Six of Crows or “Heavy” by Linkin Park (the song I got the title from)

--

Kaz knew that his day was officially a bust when he had a panic attack in third period.

Okay, technically he didn’t have a panic attack in third period. He realized it was going to happen and fled to the bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall and waited until he could breathe again. The bathroom was thankfully empty. If someone heard him, one of two horrible things would happen; he’s be pitied or mocked. He’d lost a lot of his bully shielding when he’d cleaned up his school presence during the switch to high school. That change had been necessary both for Jordie’s peace of mind and to keep Kaz Rietveld and the Dregs lieutenant Brekker separate. Of course, that meant that he’d gone from that scary kid who smoked weed behind the school to a crippled AP student who no one thought could fight back.

Even worse than bullies would be if some well-meaning student told the nurse. Marya Hendriks was one of the nicest people on earth and she meant well, but if she figured out about the panic attacks she’d tell Jordie. Kaz had been hiding his admittedly shaky mental health from Jordie basically since the accident that killed their parents. He knew that was a bad idea in the long run, but it didn’t change the fact that therapy and meds cost money which was something the tragically orphaned Rietveld brothers did not have.

So he hid alone in the bathroom until almost the end of the class period before he admitted to himself that he had to go back. He felt shaky and a little panicky, but he was standing by the sink washing his hands when Jesper came in.

“What are you doing here?” Kaz asked. “You’re supposed to be in class.”

“So are you,” Jesper said. “You’ve been gone a long time. Are you sick?”

Jesper was Kaz’s oldest friend, though they didn’t spend as much time together as they once had. If asked Kaz would blame that on Jesper starting to date Wylan, though he knew it was at least partially because of the Dregs and the ever-lengthening list of things that Jesper didn’t know about.

“I’m fine,” Kaz said drying his hands and brushing past the other boy. “Did Dryden manage to explain anything today?”

“I don’t understand it,” Jesper said. “And neither does anyone else. Can you tutor me after school?”

“Lunch or tomorrow morning,” Kaz said. “I’m busy tonight.”

“Fine, lunch then,” Jesper sighed. He liked to have his lunch periods and he hated getting up early. “I honestly don’t get how you’re the only one who doesn’t get confused by Dryden. Everyone else is struggling.”

“That’s because I’ve long since accepted that Dryden doesn’t know how to do algebra and I don’t try to understand what he’s teaching,” Kaz said. “I still get all the right answers, so there’s nothing he can do to me.”

They reached the algebra classroom. Kaz’s bad leg was killing him after all the time spent curled up in the bathroom stall. He really should have been using a cane, but when the injury had first happened he’d refused. He’d come around to it after joining the Dregs because it turned out a cane was a pretty good weapon. Unfortunately, since the cane was now connected to Brekker, Kaz Rietveld couldn’t start using one.

Kaz opened the door just as the bell rang and students began pour out. He stuffed his hands into the big pocket of his black hoodie and tried not to hunch his shoulders to obviously. Touch aversion was on the list of things he’d pretended to get over to keep from worrying Jordie, in reality it was hard to shake the horror of being trapped with his parents’ bodies in a car that was slowly filling with water. The negligent and painful treatment he’d received from the doctors afterwards hadn’t helped either.

Kaz twisted his hands around the black leather gloves hidden inside his hoodie pocket and tried not to think about how much better he’d feel if he was wearing them. He could wear the gloves as Brekker because he could explain it away as trying to avoid leaving fingerprints, but there was no explanation for Kaz Rietveld wearing gloves.

If he was completely honest, he hated being Kaz Rietveld.

He crossed the room to his desk and began gathering his books. Dryden looked up from arranging papers on his desk. “Are you alright, Kazimir?”

Kaz knew he only was only asking because he thought he was supposed to. Most people were like that; Kaz’s multiple lives and many secrets relied on it.

“Yes, sir,” he said with a submissive smile that he knew Dryden’s ego liked. “Thank you for asking.”

~~~~

Kaz was feeling a little calmer by the time they got out of school. Helping Jesper with algebra during lunch had helped a lot. Kaz loved math; it was easy and straightforward and never failed to make him feel like he was at least partially in control of his life.

When the last bell rang, Kaz made his way through the halls to his locker, hands buried deep in his hoodie pocket. He unlocked his locker and pulled his ancient slide phone out of the front pocket of his backpack. The only texts he had were weird Instagram photos that Jesper had sent him during study hall. No texts from any of the Dregs which meant that things were still on for tonight.

Someone slammed into his back and Kaz almost broke the kid’s arm. He’d learned from being Brekker that nothing kept people from touching you without mockery or pity like the promise of violence to anyone who violated your personal space. Unfortunately, that was on the list of things that were frowned upon at East Ketterdam High.

He glared at the kid until he was gone, then pulled his second piece of ridiculously outdated technology out of his backpack. It was a 4th Gen iPod Nano in an absolutely revolting shade of orange. The thing had been Jordie’s first and bore his dubious taste in color as a result. Jordie had given it to Kaz shortly before their parents had died, and Kaz had been stuck using it ever since.

Still, it was better than having no music player at all. Kaz unwound the black earbuds and shoved them into his ears. He put his playlist of pirated music on shuffle and gathered up the rest of his things. Then he swung his backpack on and left the school.

He made his way to the nearest subway stop. Subways were pretty much the only type of transportation he could manage these days. He was so deathly terrified of cars that some days it was a struggle to cross the street, and buses could still be struck by other vehicles and be pushed off the road into water. Subways ran on tracks and had only limited interaction with other subways, so he could handle them.

The subway was busy enough that there were no seats. No one stood up to offer him a seat, but that was okay; Kaz didn’t want anyone’s pity. He hooked an arm around one of the poles and leaned against it, watching as the stops zoomed by. He finally gave into the urge to put the gloves on. The subtle leather covered his hands, and he felt a million times safer.

He got off the subway at a stop near West Ketterdam High. He was now on the opposite side of the Barrel from his school and the dingy apartment he and Jordie lived in. It was a long trip for what basically constituted as a commute, but when he’d joined a gang he hadn’t wanted to risk running into someone he knew from the East Barrel.

He climbed up the steps out of the subway station and set off down one of the streets. His bad leg was throbbing worse than before after the jarring it had received on the subway. He wormed a bottle of Advil out of his backpack and shook two into his hand. He chewed them so they’d kick in faster and put the bottle away. The Advil would barely help, but his prescription meds were too expensive to use most of the time.

His mouth was still full of the sour, acidic taste of medicine when he reached an old but well-kept house in a dingy side street. He climbed the front steps and knocked. A minute later Alina, Inej’s foster mother, answered the door. She was a young woman and dressed casually, her long, inexplicably white hair was hanging loose around her shoulders. “Hello, Kaz,” she said with a smile. “You know you can just come in. You don’t need to knock.”

“I know,” Kaz said stepping into the house.

The smile Alina gave him was fond and it made Kaz want to do something to wipe it off her face. “Inej isn’t home from school yet,” she said. “I made some cookies this afternoon, though. Do you want some?”

“Maybe later,” Kaz said. “I’ll wait for Inej upstairs.” He tried to avoid Inej’s foster parents as much as possible. He knew that they’d assumed he was Inej’s boyfriend though to be honest he wasn’t sure if he and Inej were even really friends.

He climbed the creaky stairs and headed into Inej’s bedroom. Her foster sister, Nina, was already there lying stretched out on her bed on the left side of the room. Kaz raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

“I was sick today,” Nina said in an airy voice that suggested she’d just skipped out.

“Fun,” Kaz crossed to Inej’s bed on the right side of the room. He took off his backpack and lowered himself to the floor, suppressing a hiss of pain. Then he leaned over and began rummaging under the bed.

He heard Nina’s sheets rustle as she rolled over. “Is it a big job tonight?”

“You know that I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, come on, Brekker,” Nina whined. “I thought you’d stop this when I joined up.”

“Whether or not you’re a Dreg doesn’t change the fact that this is an active job,” Kaz said without looking at her. “Only people involved can know about it right now. If you want all the details, I’m sure Inej will be happy to fill you in tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Nina grumbled and fell silent.

Kaz pulled a heavy cardboard box out from under the bed and opened it. Inside were his and Inej’s knives, lockpicks and other equipment. He began separating his favorites out and strapping them to various parts of his body underneath his clothes.

“You know if Alina and Mal find those Inej is going to get in a lot of trouble,” Nina said. “This house has a ‘strict no weapons policy.’”

“I bought all of these,” Kaz said. “That means they’re technically mine, and I don’t live here.”

Nina snorted. “You know, I’m not sure Alina and Mal would accept that loophole.”

Kaz opened his mouth to respond, but something changed, and he knew Inej was there. He turned to see her standing silently in the doorway in her leggings and boots and oversized knit sweater. He didn’t know how he always knew when she was around, but he did.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” Inej crossed the room and began taking her knives out of the box. “How are you today?”

Kaz did not let himself think about the panic attack he’d had that morning. Besides, Inej didn’t know about those so he couldn’t tell her anyway. “Ready,” he said.

“Me too,” Inej said. Settling down to strap on her weapons.

Inej had been abducted by sex traffickers at fourteen. She’d been rescued a year later and put into foster care while the system tried to find her parents. Two years later and it was blatantly obvious that no one was actually looking for Mr. and Mrs. Ghafa, and Inej would probably be stuck in the system until she turned eighteen.

Kaz finished arming himself by sliding an oyster shucking knife into one of his battered high tops. He worked himself to his feet, ignoring the worried look Inej gave him and moved his backpack into Inej’s closet. His cane—a sleek black thing with a rounded knob on top—was also there, leaning against the wall. He took it out and tried not to lean too heavily on it.

“Ready to go?” He asked Inej.

She nodded. At some point she’d changed out of her fuzzy knit sweater and put on a dark-color zip front sweatshirt with a hood that she could pull over her head later to keep her braid out of the way.

“Tell me how it goes,” Nina called after them as they left the room.

Inej called goodbye to Alina at the front door and they let themselves out into the street. At the sidewalk, they turned right and began the walk to the Slat. Kaz knew that Inej rode the bus to the Slat when he wasn’t around. When he’d first started keeping his stuff at her house, she’d suggested they ride the bus a number of times. He’d gotten around it by simply ignoring her and walking; eventually she’d stopped asking.

It took them a little over twenty minutes to walk to the Slat, which was a beaten down four-story building of an indeterminable original purpose. Even though it wasn’t even five o’clock yet, the place still had a number of seedy looking people hanging around. Those were the gang members who made their livings working for the Dregs and nothing else. That was Kaz’s legacy to the gang; before he’d joined up and started running things Per Haskell had barely been able to pay his own expenses let alone anyone else’s.

Kaz let himself and Inej in through the creaky front door, then he stalked across the big front room and knocked on Per Haskell’s door. “Come in!” the gang leader called and Kaz stepped inside leaving Inej outside.

“Just letting you know that Inej and I are here,” Kaz said.

Per Haskell looked up and snorted. “You look like a high school nerd, Brekker, that undercut doesn’t help.”

Kaz looked down his oversized hoodie, dark jeans and old high tops. “This is how I dress, sir,” he said hoping he didn’t sound like a petulant teenager, this was not the first time he and Per Haskell had had this conversation. “If you want me to wear a full suit, give me the money to buy one and I will.”

Per Haskell hacked out a sound that was half laugh half smoker’s cough. “That would be something to see,” he said. “When are you leaving for the job?”

“When it gets dark,” Kaz said. “It should only take us an hour or two”

“I’ll let you handle this,” Haskell said leaning back in his chair and reaching for the large mug of room temperature lager sitting on the desk. He spoke like there had been a chance he would come. Per Haskell hadn’t done any real work in as long as Kaz had known him; he didn’t even know exactly what the plan was, only what the goal was.

“I can handle it,” Kaz said without letting any annoyance in his voice. He reminded himself that his long-term goals relied on Haskell’s incompetence. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

~~~~

When the sun set, he and Inej rode the subway out of the Barrel and into the business part of Ketterdam. At this time of day, comparatively few people were heading into the business district because people didn’t live there, so they were both able to sit, something Kaz would never admit to being relieved about.

After they got off the subway they only had to walk a couple blocks before the headquarters of Van Eck Industries rose up before them. They stood on the corner looking up at the darkened windows. Kaz pulled off the backpack he’d brought from the Slat and pulled out a pair of ski masks. It was almost hilariously like something out of a movie, but they needed to make sure their faces didn’t end up on any of the building’s copious security cameras. They would deal with them, but only from the inside.

They both fitted their masks on and became a pair of extremely stereotypical bandits. Then they headed across the street to the employee entrance. The door was locked with a randomly generated password, but Kaz whipped out one of the laptops he’d bought for the Dregs with Per Haskell’s money and within seconds had bypassed the lock and they were in.

Once they were inside, they made their way to the security room. The guard on duty tonight was exceedingly lazy which was why they’d chosen tonight for the job. When they entered the security room, the man was sitting at his desk watching a soap opera and vacantly munching on potato chips. He obviously wasn’t watching the many security camera monitors around him, because if he had been he would have seen the two masked people slinking through the hallways.

Inej crossed the room on silent feet and punched the man a couple times with a pair of brass knuckles she always kept in one of her pockets. When he passed out, she heaved him out of his chair and began to drag him towards a closet.

Kaz sat down in the security guard’s chair, stuck a flash drive into the computer and released the most potent of his half a dozen custom computer viruses into the system. When he was finished, he glanced at Inej who stood in the center of the security room watching the security footage on the computer screens flicker out. “I’ll never get tired of that,” she said with a smile.

Kaz smiled as well and made sure he kept his face turned away until he could smooth out his expression again. “Whatever,” he stood up, and pulled his mask off. Now that the security cameras were out of commission there was no reason to keep wearing it. “Let’s move. We’ve got thirty-one minutes before the second security guard finishes her round and gets back here.”

~~~~

Jan Van Eck’s office was on the top floor of the building. With the computer virus in effect, Kaz had to open the electronic lock by opening it up and fiddling with the wires, but it still took him less than a minute. He’d started to learn to pick locks at age nine, while in the hospital after the accident and trying desperately not to think about any of the bad stuff. He’d kept practicing afterwards and now he was one of the best lockpicks in Ketterdam.

The door to Van Eck’s office opened into a borderline ridiculously expensive space that was exactly what you’d expect of man of his wealth and famous arrogance to have. A DeKappel painting hung on the wall behind the desk. Kaz and Inej lifted it down to reveal the safe.

Inej stood guard by the door while Kaz cracked the safe. Even though they were in the middle of a big job, Kaz found his nerves settling. Lockpicking was as relaxing as math.

He got the safe open in what he estimated to approximately half the time it would have taken the Dregs’ second best lockpick. He swung the safe door open and shone a flashlight inside to get a better view of the contents. There were stacks and stacks of cash inside along with some other boxes and papers. Kaz whistled softly. “Someone learns to learn that keeping copious amounts of cash in his safe is just asking for it to be stolen.”

“Is there a lot?” Inej asked.

“Yes,” Kaz began taking out the cash. It was all carefully tied up in those little paper slips you got on bills from the bank. Kaz estimated there was around twenty thousand dollars. His fingers itched to take the money for himself. Twenty thousand dollars would take care of rent and food and all that credit card debt Jordie pretended they didn’t have. He pushed the urge away; Per Haskell might be one of the most useless generals in the Barrel but stealing from him was still a bad idea.

Inej left her guard post and began loading up her backpack with money. Kaz dug deeper into the safe and pulled out some jewelry that was probably worth a couple hundred dollars apiece. Kaz stuffed them into his own backpack with part of the money and laptop he’d used on the outside door, then began going through the papers. This was not strictly part of the plan, but Kaz and Inej built their reputation on having dirt on everyone in Ketterdam so it wouldn’t be right to pass up a chance to gain some new information.

He found a couple worthy-looking papers and memorized them in a handful of seconds. When he was finished he looked around the office. His eyes fell on the DeKappel sitting in its frame against the wall. It was probably a nice painting, though all art looked the same to Kaz. Still, it was expensive and the fact that Van Eck had it so prominently displayed meant that it was important to him...

“Do we have a screwdriver?” Kaz asked Inej.

“Yeah,” Inej said still focused putting the last of the money into Kaz’s backpack. “Why?”

Kaz grinned as his heartbeat sped up. This was going to be great. “We’re taking the painting.”

Now she looked up at him, confusion on her face. “Why?”

Kaz’s smile got even bigger. “Why not?”

She stared at him for a moment then she smiled and shrugged. “Sure,” she dug around in the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out a screwdriver. “Here you go.”

It took them almost ten minutes to get the back of the frame off and the painting taken out. Once that was done they rolled the painting up and fitted it carefully into Inej’s backpack. Then they put the back of the frame back on, closed the safe and hung the empty frame on the wall again.

“Alright,” Kaz turned towards the door, pulling on his own, now significantly heavier backpack. “Let’s get out of here.”

They left Van Eck’s office and headed down the stairwell towards the outside. They were almost to the ground floor when they heard footsteps and voices. They both froze and stared at each other. “How long have we been here?” Inej asked.

Kaz checked his watch. “We should still have ten minutes,” he said. “Maybe-”

A door above them opened. Kaz looked up and his stomach clenched. A couple big, burly men Kaz recognized as members of the Dime Lions were pushing their way into the stairwell. He and Inej looked at each other in shock. Where had the Dime Lions come from? Had they just so happened to plan a break-in for the same night?

“You there!” one of the Dime Lions yelled. “Intruders! Stop right there!”

“Run!” Kaz told Inej and they took off down the stairs.

More Dime Lions entered the stairwell from the bottom. Inej slid down the railing of the last flight of stairs and slashed at them with her knives. Kaz reached the bottom a second later and took out one of the Dime Lions with a well-placed swing with the knobbed end of his cane. They shoved their way out of the stairwell. Within seconds they were out of the building through a different side entrance that opened onto a boardwalk facing the harbor.

“Split up,” Kaz ordered. “We’ll meet up later.”

Inej nodded and took off one direction. Kaz knew that within minutes she’d be up a building and well out of any danger.

He, on the other hand, had it a bit more difficult. His leg meant that he couldn’t climb as quickly as Inej could and he couldn’t run as fast either. Still, he would get away; he was way smarter than basically everyone Pekka Rollins had working for him.

Kaz pounded down the boardwalk with the Dime Lions after him. It sounded like most of them were after him. Which probably meant that they’d recognized him and Inej. They knew that he was Brekker, the most wanted man in Ketterdam, and they knew they’d never catch Inej.

He knew he’d never outrun the Dime Lions, so he just needed to find a good place to stand and fight. He turned left and ran along a narrower part of the boardwalk that jutted out into the water. When he was halfway along it he whirled around and lifted his cane, prepared for a fight.

Half a dozen Dime Lions pounded down the boardwalk after him. The front two charged him immediately. Kaz simply stepped out of the way so one ran into the boardwalk railing and beat the other over the head with his cane.

He stepped away until his back was against the railing opposite the one the Dime Lion had just hit. “So what are you all doing here tonight?” he asked with a classic Brekker smile. “Did the Dregs beat the Dime Lions to the pigeon?”

“We’re not Dime Lions,” one of the men said, eyeing Kaz like he was trying to come up with a halfway decent plan to attack him. “We work for Jakob Hertzoon.”

Kaz had never heard of Jakob Hertzoon before, but he also knew for certain that at least four of these people were definitely Dime Lions. You didn’t just switch loyalties in the Barrel, especially if you worked for Pekka Rollins. Something weird was going on here. He and Inej were going to have to look into this Jakob Hertzoon person. “Oddly enough, I don’t believe you,” he said.

“Give back the property you stole from Van Eck Industries, Brekker,” the man growled. That alone proved that he was definitely from the Barrel. Kaz’s face had never been picked up by the government, so no one outside of the Barrel gangs knew Brekker was really a kid.

“I think I’ll keep it,” Kaz said.

“Get him,” the man said and all six of them charged. Kaz swung his cane and caught the closest one in the nose. She screamed and stumbled back. Kaz got the next one too, but then the rest were on him, grasping at his clothes and backpack, shoving his up against the railing. Their touches were a million points of horror. Kaz struggled but couldn’t get free, his cane rolled out of his fingers.

They were trying to get the backpack off him. Kaz tried to twist away from their hands and felt himself fall backwards into space. He was weightless in the air for mere seconds before he splashed into the harbor.

The water of the harbor was cold, dark and dirty. Kaz couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed. He couldn’t tell which way was up. He couldn’t tell anything at all, because he was back in that car eight years ago, trapped with his parents’ bodies while the cold, disgusting water creeped inside.

He struggled but it was in vain. He couldn’t get out of the car, he was going to die here. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

Then hands grabbed him and dragged him out of the water. He struggled to get air into lungs that didn’t want to inhale. He was out of the water, he wasn’t going to drown, but now he was going to suffocate.

Hands grabbed at him, trying to sit up him up. They were too much like the bodies of his parents which had bounced and pushed against him as the car filled with water. He shoved the person away. “Get your hands off!” he screamed with all the air his starving lungs possessed. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Dontouchme!”

The hands vanished, and Kaz collapsed again. Gravel drug into his cheek and that was what reminded him that he wasn’t still in the car; there was no gravel in the car.

He lay there gasping for an indeterminable amount of time until his vision cleared, and he felt like he could sort of breathe again. Then he peeled his eyes open and looked around.

He was lying on his side on a gravel bank underneath the boardwalk, the water lapping a few inches from his shoes. Inej was crouching a little further up the bank, as dripping wet as he was. She must have dived in after him and pulled him out.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I thought you were drowning at first, so I tried to sit you up to see if you’d breathe easier that way. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

Kaz realized immediately that the game was up. If Inej had been less perceptive she might not have realized what had actually happened, and he might have been able to pull the drowning card, but she knew. He could tell that she’d recognized the panic attack for what it was. He could see her rearranging every interaction they’d ever had--everything about him that had never made sense from the buses to the gloves--to accommodate this new information. He could see her bursting through the armor that was his Brekker identity to the sad, weak, pathetic Kaz Rietveld underneath. It was horrible.

He forced himself to his feet. Cold, slimy harbor water ran down his body. He tried not to think of the car. “Let’s go,” he said attempting to sound normal with dubious success.

“Kaz,” Inej said carefully, still not moving any closer to him, “the Dime Lions left after you fell in the water. We’re safe here for a couple minutes if you want to catch your breath.”

“I’m fine!” Kaz snapped. He tried to walk and stumbled, catching himself on one of the boardwalk supports. “Let’s get back to the Barrel before one of the Dime Lions manages to come up with the brilliant idea of calling the cops.”

“Kaz,” Inej said. “You know you can-”

“Inej,” Kaz spoke over her with his nastiest tone. “Let’s go.”

~~~~

Per Haskell found Kaz and Inej’s sodden appearances hilarious and spend a good five minutes laughing until he had tears in his eyes. He was decidedly less pleased about the soaked money in Kaz’s backpack and the ruined laptop. He told them he was docking part of their shares even though the money would dry out useable enough and he thought the laptops were useless anyways. At least Inej had had the foresight to ditch her backpack before jumping in the harbor, so her half the money and the DeKappel were fine.

After finishing up with Haskell, Kaz and Inej returned to Inej’s house. Kaz had a change of clothes stored there for bloody jobs (jeans, a tee-shirt and another hoodie, this one navy blue) but not a second pair of shoes so he had to settle for being completely dry aside from his feet. He tried not to think about the harbor water squelching between his toes as he gathered up his school backpack and fished his iPod out of the front pocket.

Inej watched him from her perch on her bed. “You know you don’t have to leave just yet,” she said. “There are still some cookies left over from this afternoon. We could watch a movie. I could probably convince Mal to make popcorn.”

Kaz knew what she was doing, she was trying to convince him to stay because she was worried about him, because she thought he was weak. He would not allow that. “I’m leaving,” he said without bothering to come up with an excuse. He had no idea how he was going to salvage this situation, but he was going to have to do it somehow and he needed some space to think about it.

“Kaz,” Inej said. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, but I don’t think that just ignoring that is a good idea. You can talk about it with me; you can trust me.”

He couldn’t trust anyone. He’d learned that in the years since his parents had died. Even Jordie, who should have been his partner in this quest for revenge, could not be trusted. Kaz had something he needed to hide from absolutely everyone in his life.

“No, we’re not going to talk about that,” Kaz said as coolly and Brekker-like as he could. “As far as you’re concerned that never happened. Never bring it up again, and if I figure out that you told someone else--anyone else--I will not hesitant to kill you.”

Instead of flinching back in fear, Inej lifted her chin. “I don’t believe you,” she said. “You’re not that cruel.”

“You should,” Kaz said even if he wasn’t totally sure if he would kill her either. “Good night,” then he turned and left the house.

~~~~

It was now after ten pm, so the subway was nearly empty. Kaz sat in one of the cars, folded over at the waist, his forehead pressing into his knees, eyes squeezed tight closed, earbuds blaring overly loud music into his ears. He couldn’t get his mind off how catastrophically badly tonight had gone. Kaz Rietveld’s weaknesses were not supposed to affect Brekker. Brekker was supposed to be strong enough to get revenge on Pekka Rollins.

One of the curses of having a memory like Kaz’s was that nothing ever faded. Pain never got duller. He could still remember the exact way his dead mother’s soaked hair had felt against his hand. He remembered the way blood had trickled out of his father’s mouth. He remembered struggling to keep his head above water when his leg was too badly shattered to kick. He remembered it all as if it had just happened, and he would for the rest of his life.

Mr. and Mrs. Rietveld had died after a multi-car pileup had forced their car and a couple others off a bridge and into the harbor. Officially, it was just a horrible accident, but the fact that the accident had been orchestrated by Pekka Rollins and the Dime Lions was an open secret among all of Ketterdam. When Pekka Rollins wanted someone dead, they died, but what Kaz had never been able to figure out was who the target that day had been. He knew it was ridiculous to get caught up that detail, but he needed to know. He needed to know who Rollins had been after. He needed to know what his parents had died for, once he knew that, he would gladly rip Pekka Rollins’ throat out and everything would be better.

Kaz wasn’t stupid, he knew that destroying everything Pekka Rollins loved and then killing him wouldn’t fix any of his problems, but he had to believe that. He needed to believe that killing Rollins would be the magical cure for everything that was wrong with his life; he didn’t know how he would keep going if it wasn’t.

The subway arrived at his stop. He got to his feet, hissing in pain. He chewed another couple Advil while he climbed out of the subway station and stuffed the bottle into the pockets of his new hoodie. He headed down the dimly lit streets to the tumbled down apartment building where he and Jordie lived.

Their apartment was a two room, one bathroom flat that they probably paid too much rent for. Still they stayed because as long as they paid the rent, the landlord would overlook anything. That had been especially helpful back when they’d both been minors and their uncle had never been around enough to constitute as their actual legal guardian.

Their uncle had been supposed to take care of them, but instead he’d fooled around and burned through their admittedly meager inheritance before Jordie reached eighteen. He also went on long trips without telling them where he was going or when he’d be back, so they’d mostly fended for themselves. They hadn’t seen him since Jordie had turned eighteen and Kaz privately hoped the man had managed to die, though he doubted they were that lucky.

Kaz struggled up the steps to the eighth floor, wishing the elevator actually worked. Still he eventually made it to the apartment and reached for the knob.

The door was unlocked.

Instantly on high alert, Kaz pulled out his earbuds and slid his backpack from his shoulders. He’d left all his knives at Inej’s, but the backpack was heavy enough to serve as a weapon in a pinch. He twisted the knob quietly and stepped into the apartment.

He made his way silently down the tiny hallway to the main room. He saw the form of someone sitting on the old, saggy couch. He hefted the backpack up and stepped closer, then stopped. “Jordie?”

Jordie jumped and whirled around, getting to his feet. It was obvious he hadn’t heard Kaz come in. His face twisted into a frown. “Kaz! It’s about time!”

“What are you doing here?” Kaz asked. “You work nights on Thursdays.” That was why he’d planned this job for tonight; he knew Jordie wouldn’t be around to notice he was gone.

“We’re not talking about me right now,” Jordie snapped. “It’s after eleven! I’ve been calling you for hours! Where were you?”

Kaz knew he was failing at completely keeping the surprise off his face, he hadn’t checked his phone picking up his backpack and apparently, he should have. “Hanging out in the university district with Jesper,” he said. He remembered that Jesper had mentioned that he and Wylan had been going on a date in the university district tonight, so perhaps if Jordie had called Mr. Fahey this story wouldn’t be instantly disproven. “We lost track of time.”

Jordie ran a hand through his shaggy dark hair. “Kaz, you can’t just wander around the city with no one knowing where you are. I should give you a curfew.”

For as long as Kaz could remember, Jordie had always been a little more. A little taller, a little heavier, a little better looking, a little more trusting, a little more tactful, a little better. It wasn’t until Kaz had created his Brekker identity that he’d truly acknowledged the ways that he was more. He was smarter, and braver, and a better fighter, and a better planner. He was more untrusting and untrustworthy, more hardworking, more reckless, more morally gray, and above all more vicious. Jordie was the better brother, but Kaz was the one who would get them their justice.

That was how he knew Jordie would never go through with the threat of a curfew. Jordie liked things to be easy; he knew that he would have to fight tooth and nail to impose something like that on Kaz and he’d rather not do the work. Kaz resented that on some level, because it was the same method of thinking that kept Jordie from truly trying to seek justice for their parents, but in this situation, it was helpful.

Suddenly Kaz was very tired. He’d had an absolutely horrible day and he really just wanted to curl up on the couch with a warm blanket. He’d make himself a mug of hot chocolate and maybe spike it with that bottle of whiskey that Jordie thought he didn’t know was hidden under the sink. He’d turn on the TV and watch whatever mindless programs were on until he fell asleep. Now his brother was here, and he had to deal with him instead.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Jordie wasn’t done, “I asked off of work tonight, did you know that? I wanted to spend some time with you. We’ve barely seen each other recently and I thought it would be nice to have a night just the two of us. Instead you spend the whole night galivanting around the city and I was stuck here watching the hours tick by and thinking of all the money I was losing!”

Kaz would not stand for that. “You know,” he snarled. “If you wanted to spend time with me, you could have asked me in advance. You could have said, ‘Hey, Kaz, I’m thinking about taking Thursday night off, so we could hang out. Do you have any plans?’ like any normal person. You can’t just expect me to never have anything going on. I’m not a little kid content to sit around practicing magic tricks and waiting for you to finally have time to notice me!”

That was a low blow, and mostly untrue because while Jordie had had increasingly less time as he picked up jobs to try to take care of both of them, he’d always tried to make time for Kaz. Kaz knew he’d feel guilty about playing that card eventually, but right now it didn’t matter.

Jordie’s mouth opened and closed in shock. “How can you say that?” he asked. “Everything I’ve ever done is to make things better for you.”

“If you really wanted to make things better then maybe you would have stopped our uncle from spending all our money,” Kaz snapped. “Maybe you would try to make Pekka Rollins pay for what happened to our parents!”

“Kaz, I can’t either of those things!” Jordie snarled. “You can’t just expect things to work out the way you want them to all the time, sometimes you have to accept what you get.”

“And sometimes you can’t just lie down and let the machine walk all over you!” Kaz said.

“I can’t bring Mom and Da back, Kaz,” Jordie said. “Getting Pekka Rollins won’t bring them back either.”

“I know that,” Kaz snarled. “I’m not a child, but that doesn’t change that he still deserves to pay.”

“Let it be, Kaz,” Jordie said quietly. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“If that’s the way you want to be,” Kaz said crossing his arms. “Then I don’t see why you’re so angry about where I was tonight. I told you that I was hanging out with Jesper and we lost track of time. I’d known that we were going to hang out for a while, if you’d asked me beforehand we could have avoided this whole situation. Now, I’m going to bed and there’s nothing more you can do about this situation.” Then he turned and stalked off into the apartment’s only other room.

His bed was on the right and Jordie’s was on the left. He peeled off his wet shoes and socks and kicked them as far under the bed as he could so Jordie wouldn’t step on them or something and start getting more suspicious. He took off the gloves too; he was lucky Jordie had been too angry to notice them. Then he threw himself face down onto his bed without bothering to change. Perhaps his eyes were a little wet, but he’d never admit that; Brekker didn’t cry.

Jordie never came into the bedroom, and when Kaz got up for school the next morning he was already gone.

--

Honestly, I think that one of the things I enjoyed most about this story was exploring the dynamic between Kaz and alive!Jordie.

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed.

Emjen