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stars-n-spice · 11 months ago

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Fuck it. Nultez family.

Their sigil is that of a Bulabird, a species of bird with a star-tipped beak that's native to the planet of Chandrila!

And because I can, a second generation :)

(NOT PICTURED: The dozen of critters they've adopted over the years)

Let's ignore clone's double aging for a bit, yeah?

More info under the cut!

Pez Nultez:

Chandrilian

Was going to be forced into an arranged marriage, said "kriff that" and smuggled himself off world

Worked odd jobs, essentially ran away with what I'm going to call a "space circus" and became a performer

Was performing for some pirates when his soon-to-be wife crashed the party with some of her clan members because the pirates they were performing for owed the clan money

He got caught in the cross-fire and Tokki came to his aid and he fell hard and fast for her

After the encounter he went off to look for her, wanting to get to know her better and eventually tracked her back to Krownest

Immediately was turned away by the Clan but he kept coming back and back to her (which at first, Tokki didn't care for him but then he was slowly starting to grow on her)

Eventually the Clan decided "kriff it" and let him hang around, even if they weren't too happy about it (but nobody was going to confront Tokki about it)

After a few years, they finally married and he decided that he'd convert to the Mandalorian religion for his wife

He's a fun-loving guy, laid-back, loves his wife, and is just trying his best

He tries his best with Jovaz and is devestated when he goes off on his own and joins Death Watch

Then when Khea and Mitcan leave to find their brother (only for Mitcan to die and Khea to nearly die) it almost ruins him

He blames himself for their family falling apart and will never get over it, but still, even though his kids are gone he does his best to stick by his wife and support and love her as much as he can

Then she dies during the Siege of Mandalore, just after Khea comes back to them (before disappearing once again) and he's alone again

Tokki Wren:

Mandalorian, formally a part of Clan Wren

Is like Ursa's older cousin or something

Grew up on Krownest in the ways of a Mandalorian

Met Pex when she was around 25 (after saving his life) and they later married two years later

At first, she didn't think much of Pex, she thought he was a little silly and not much of a warrior but he had dedication like she'd never seen before

That and he was the only person who could actually make her smile and laugh, something nobody else could do

However, if Pex is the "good cop" then she's the "bad cop"

She's a tough, strict, no nonsense mom who raised her kids similarly to how she was raised

Sometimes she blames herself for how her children turned out, but she'll never say it aloud - she thinks they might've done better if Pex insisted that she left her home and religion behind and stayed with him instead

When Jovaz leaves, it hurts, but she doesn't show it and Khea takes offense to it - just before Khea and Mitcan leave, the two have a big fight over it

Then when she finds out they found Jovaz but Mitcan was killed and Khea has disappeared, something snaps in her - suddenly she becomes a shell of a person and not even Pex can get reactions out of her

It isn't until Mandalore is under attack and is under the rule of an outsider that she finally gets some semblance of her old self back

That and Khea comes back to fight for Mandalore and they're able to make amends

Things seem like they might get better but during the Siege, Tokki is killed

Jovaz Nultez:

Oldest

Daddy IssuesTM - he hates his dad because he thinks him being Chandrilian doesn't make them (his father and the Nultez kids) "true" Mandalorians (he's just really bitter and angsty all the time)

Was born on Mandalore (the only Nultez kid to be born there)

Has this weird thing where he thinks he's better than his siblings because he was born on Mandalore instead of Krownest like the rest of them

HATES his family's sigil because he thinks it's 'pathetic' and 'weak' (like his father)

When he's 20 he leaves his family and joins Death Watch

At 23, his involvement with Death Watch gets his younger brother killed and nearly kills Khea as well

At 24 he becomes blind and disfigured at the hands of Khea after she tracks him down and takes out her anger on him for leaving their family and killing their younger brother (she nearly kills him)

Death Watch takes care of him for a bit, but without his sight he's practically useless so they kick him out (karma) and he's left to fend on his own

Current whereabouts are unknown but Khea thinks he's dead (he's not)

Khea Nultez:

Middle child

And also the most fleshed out of them because I've been working on her for months now

When she's 17 years old, she goes off to bring back Jovaz with the help of her younger brother and the two search for him for 2 years

Eventually, they find Jovaz but a fight breaks out between them and Death Watch and Khea and Mitcan find themselves outmatched

Mitcan is killed in the firefight and Khea barely gets away with her life - the ordeal severely traumatizing her

She becomes hellbent on getting revenge and a year later she finds Jovaz - this time it's a fair fight, but Khea is so filled with rage and hurt that she nearly kills Jovaz (she thinks she did and feels awful afterward but Jovaz manages to survive though he's now blind and disfigured)

Horrified at what she did, she runs away, unable to face her parents and takes sanctuary on Takodona, working under a pirate for nearly five years

At 25 she fakes her death to get away from her boss, tired of him and because she wants to return back to Mandalore after hearing about Darth Maul taking the throne

As much as she doesn't want to return home, she doesn't want to lose her home and finds herself fighting during the Seige of Mandalore alongside her parents

Her mother dies during the Siege and it's the last straw for her - she runs away again and finds herself on Ord Mantell, running a mechanic shop with her assassin Pantoran friend she made on Takodana while also hunting bounties

Then she meets the Bad Batch, is forced to work alongside them on a mission to Takodana, relives some traumas, falls in love with Wrecker, and eventually learns to heal

Eventually she catches word that Jovaz is alive and wanting to close that chapter of her life, she parts ways with the Bad Batch and goes off on her own to find him

Mitcan Nultez:

Youngest

Was an absolute sweetheart

I say 'was' because he eventually gets killed in a firefight between Death Watch when he and Khea go off on their own to try and bring Jovaz back home

Dies at 17

Before that though, he thought the world of his older siblings, only to be let down by both (Jovaz: joining Death Watch, Khea: not being able to protect him)

Was often the family mediator and felt torn between wanting to be on both sides

Tried to talk Khea out of going after Jovaz, but she was stubborn and went without him - not wanting her to be on her own, he gave in and went along with her

Big mistake whomp whomp

Itri Solbris Nultez:

The oldest!

Her original name was Solbris but now goes by Itri

She's trans!

Khea found her as a toddler while she was on her own trying to track down Jovaz after finding out he was alive

Itri then became her top priority and decided her brother was a lost cause and decided to take Itri in as a Foundling

Later when Khea finds her way back to the Bad Batch, she introduces her to Wrecker (who loves her immediately but was also slightly scared that Itri was biologically Khea's)

Sometimes she feels very out of place but her parents are always there to remind her that family doesn't have to mean blood

Loves all her Uncles (especially Echo, they get along very well)

Also looks up to Omega as an older sister, there is not a secret those two don't share with each other

More so following in her mother's Mandalorian footsteps compared to the rest of her siblings (only one with beskar)

Marama 'Mara' & Maia 'Mai' Nultez:

The twins - 23 minutes apart! (M&M)

Actual firecrackers, these two inherited Wrecker's enthusiasm and taste for adventure as well as Khea's stubbornness and recklessness (they're the stereotypical trouble making twins)

Think the world of Itri and would not hesitate to kill for her

In turn, they dunk on Elio whenever they can because he's the baby of the family (all in good fun)

They're the reason why the family has so many pets, no stray can escape them

Love to play pranks on their Uncles (especially Crosshair)

Not necessarily being trained in the ways of Mandalore

Marama is a little more technical and enjoys tinkering with things, inventing weapons and gadgets, and fixing up various mechanical things with her mother

Maia is a little more on the warrior side and enjoys spending time training, rough housing, mastering weapons, and learning demolition skills from her father

Elio Nultez:

The youngest

The one always getting dragged into his sister's shenanigans and would very much like to have some peace and quiet

Khea sees Mitcan in him and sometimes it messes her up - there was a brief period of time where Khea didn't know how to handle those feelings and was very disconnected from her son so Elio is a lot closer to his father

Eventually, Khea was able to work around it and has promised that she'll do her best to give Elio the life Mitcan should've had, a long one filled with love and safety

Doesn't like being babied but being the youngest means forever being the "baby"

He's trying his best guys

#sw ocs #ocs #tbb ocs #my art #star wars ocs #mandalorian ocs #clan nultez #tbb #tbb wrecker #wrecker #oc x canon #starburst #will probably develop them more later #but this is what i've got for em right now #i love all of them

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modstarfell · 2 years ago

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Future of the Iranami circus (POV: Satsuki Iranami)

It was my first day back home! At the Iranami family circus! Yet... everything feels so much different then I remember... It felt so gloomy. This wasn't like the Iranami's at all! I huffed before turning to Keisuke. "Keisuke-ni, why does everything look so sad? Where's Mama, Papa and Gran?"

"Well... After you left and the tragedy started, lots of us did go looking for you. Then when I got the note from the stranger to go to the old Laboratory... I met up with the Kisaragi Foundation and things have been different since then. It's been hard to smile brighten anymore Suki.."

I listened to my brother and gave a nod. That's baloney! "Come on! We're the great traveling family circus! We're clowns! We always carry ourselves with pride and a smile right?" I let out a huff and brought my hands onto my hips. "Well, today we're gonna change everything! You try and gather up the rest of the siblings and I'm gonna go talk to Mama and Papa at least!"

I knew I've been gone for a long time, I wasn't... entirely counting on the idea that Gran might still be around but I knew she would be proud of me if she saw me now regardless! Either way I left Keisuke in the dust as I ran to the main office of the circus. The biggest trailer in the lots... Oh jeez. I haven't been here in awhile... I looked up at the door and suddenly it felt like I was a little kid again, trying to ask Mama and Papa a question only for them to shush me away. I know I wasn't much help before, but I'll prove myself! I slowly reached for the handle, swallowing down any little bit of regret or fear I might be handling.

It felt like a ghost town inside, hearing the click of the door as I walked in and looked around. "Mama, Papa? Where are you?" I called out hoping I'd at least get an answer from one of them this time. I almost felt defeated when suddenly I heard Papa's voice call out to me.

"Suki? Is... Is that really you?"

"Yeah! It is! I'm home! I'm alive and home!" I let out an awkward laugh, playing with one of the jingles attached to my hat for a moment. Next thing I knew I was being dragged into a hug by both of my parents! When the heck did they arrive!? Either way it... It felt nice. It was nice to be held by them for once instead of being comforted by Keisuke-ni.

"It's been so... So long... How did you survive? We heard from Keisuke that you'd died..." Papa looked like he was on the verge of tears when Mama spoke. "We closed down the circus after Keisuke came back... He couldn't take handling the circus after the confirmation of your death. With our ace gone, we had no choice but to close up and try to make due with what we had. Most of your siblings have gotten other jobs by now for money. It was just me and your father living here for awhile."

It almost felt like an odd sob story. I feel bad for thinking that though, they're my family regardless. "Well! That changes starting right now! I'm Satsuki Iranami, the Ultimate Clown and a student who attended the elite academy of Hopes Peak academy! They wouldn't have picked me for no reason! I had potential and... And now I want to show you that potential. Keisuke-ni is gathering up all the rest of the kids but for now, I want you two to get on your suits." I smiled brightly and backed out of the hugs. Right now, what they needed more then anything was a head-strong child who knew what she wanted! That's what I am! "Ah-ah-ah! You two aren't performing though. Tonight, it's the future of the circus performing together."

"Suki... That felt like an under-handed way of you just calling us old." Mom pointed out and I shook my head and hands. Waaah!! "N-no! That's not what I mean at all! Just... Come meet with everyone in about a half hour okay?" With that confidence and refusing to let them say no, I walked out of their trailer and closed the door behind me. I walked a few feet away before throwing myself into a squealing fit of excitement, jumping up and down and stomping my feet. I did it! I stood my ground and I'm going to help this family for the good! I looked back at the window of the trailer with a bright sparkle in my eyes before running back off to the tent.

#satsuki 🎪#minific #semi-lore??#danganronpa another #danganronpa #there MIGHT be a part2 if i remember later on... of the actual circus show.

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archerofthemists · 4 years ago

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My own personal headcanons and theories for Tyrian's childhood. No he doesn't NEED a tragic backstory but damn it I'm gonna give him one

Warnings: death/hate crime/faunus racism

(I love how the theory that Tyrian was in a faunus circus as a kid is so wide spread. Maybe we'll get lucky and get it in cannon)

Tyrian was born in the poor outskirts of Vacuo. It unfortunately was a very racist and hostile place to grow up.

Tyrians mother Iris Callows was a single mother. Tyrian never knew his father, a huntsman who had died before he was born.

Iris was a scorpion faunus as well. When Tyrian was first born, she carried him on her back in a cloth baby sack the majority of the time, including while she worked in hot fields, miserable work that was typically done by faunus who desperately needed the money.

Iris loved her little scorpling dearly. He was always a little ball of excitement and energy, the sunlight in her dark and lonely world.

They were poor, but she gave Tyrian the best life she could provide. She did her best to protect him from the outside world where she knew all too well the horrible things that could be said and done to her child.

Due to little money Iris did her best to homeschool her son, however as a young and single mother with no one to turn to, and working a full time job to keep food on the table, it was hard and Tyrian's education was spotty.

Despite this, Tyrian was a very happy child. He had a good imagination and kept himself entertained by playing in the desert that surrounded their small home.

Tyrian was six years old when his mother left him. Or, at least that's what he believed.

When harvest seasons were over, Iris would work odd jobs in the kingdom, trying to make ends meet.

Tyrian had entered a very bratty phase, growing to an age where he wanted other friends, real people. Iris didn't know how to explain to him how dangerous the world was. She wanted to shield him from its ugliness, but deep down she knew she couldn't do that forever. Even other faunus had shunned her due to her dangerous trait. Faunus with their own venom were almost unheard of. There was the occasional snake faunus that happened to be venomous, gifted with a lethal set of fangs, but certainly nothing as obvious as a powerful tail, tipped with poison.

To this day Tyrian can't quite remember what sparked the fight. All he remembered was he and his mother were yelling at each other and in a fit of anger his tail had swung out and broken something. It had been something made of porcelain and had been precious to Iris. It was one of her few possessions that her husband had given her before his untimely death.

Tyrian still remembers the pained look in his mother's eyes, the tears that welled and eventually streamed down her pale cheeks.

He immediately began apologizing as his mother scooped up the broken pieces, shaking her head.

"Please don't be mad…"

"I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed."

Tyrian watched her leave. She had to get to work and being faunus she was already on thin ice. Being late at all would surely result in being fired.

Tyrian felt guilty and gross. He'd never seen his mother cry before. He didn't like it. He spent most of the evening scrounging the house for glue and desperately piecing the figure back together. He was sure that it would make his mother happy when she came home from work late that night.

Only she never returned. As far as Tyrian knew she had abandoned him. He had been a bad child, a bad son and his mother had left him alone because of it. He waited for days but eventually the little food in the house ran out and Tyrian knew he would have to leave at some point. Maybe someone in the kingdome could help him? But no, his mother had warned him all his life about how dangerous humans could be towards their kind.

However, she had left him no choice, had she?

Wandering around the edges of the kingdome, he slipped food from vendors and went mostly unnoticed. His tail was wrapped snugly around his waist and looked like a belt, no one gave him a second glance.

However, a vendor's large dog had smelled him and recognized the smell of a faunus. Tyrian had unknowingly wandered into a humans only section of the markets. The dog, trained to attack at the smell of faunus did not hesitate to lunge at the small child and Tyrian responded quickly. Almost without thinking he struck the dog dead, his stinger buried in its furry chest.

Of course this gave away his cover and the vendor began screaming at Tyrian for killing his dog.

Out of nowhere a tall man came up behind Tyrian and gently placed his hands on the child's shoulders. "I'm sorry sir, my boy here still isn't used to the great kingdoms. I'll happily pay for your dog."

The man had a rugged looking top hat and goatee with intense eyes. Tyrian quickly felt terrified of the man but he was in no position to run either.

"There are no faunus allowed here!" The vendor yelled. "Get that little killer shit out of here! Screw your money!"

The man didn't hesitate to lead Tyrian away from the market and soon found himself in the desert where a big red tent was set up.

"You have family, son?" The man asked.

"I haven't seen my mother in a few days." Tyrian admitted. "I was bad and she left me."

"That's no way for a mother to treat her child." The man cooed as he leaned down to Tyrians level. "Come with my circus. I promise, we'll never abandon you."

Tyrian quickly learned that the Ringleader was not as kind a man as he pretended to be. Years of performing on the high wires (with no net below if you fell) onlookers laughing and always throwing things. Yanking his tail and Tyrian wasn't allowed to even say anything, no matter how much it might hurt.

Whippings, no food for days and being locked in a tiny cage if you did something wrong. No one could blame Tyrian when he finally snapped. The circus had been near Mistral when he finally killed the Ringleader and Brothers it felt good.

As for Iris, of course she never would have abandoned her precious boy.

It was after her shift had ended and she was walking home she was attacked by a group of faunus hating humans. They caught her off guard, and had brought an axe down on her tail, cutting off the better half of it. Iris was no huntress, she did not fight. She kept a blade on her for protection, but against five bigger opponents, it hadn't done her much good. (Although she did manage to drive it into one of their thighs, and he died of blood loss.) But it didn't keep her from getting killed herself.

As a faunus, her death was not investigated. No one bothered to find out if she had family. There was no one to tell Tyrian the truth.

#rwby #tyrian callows #rwby tyrian #rwby headcanons #might fuck around and write out some tragic shit #iris callows #my oc #new oc?

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longitudinalwaveme · 4 years ago

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Merry, the Boy Wonder

The multiverse is filled with endless possibilities. For example, in our universe, it was Dick Grayson whose parents, a pair of circus performers, were killed by gangsters in Gotham City, and who subsequently became the first sidekick to the mysterious Batman. But what if things had gone a bit differently? What if, instead of Dick Grayson, it had been one James Jesse whose family had performed in Gotham that fateful night? This is the story of the world where that happened….

“Great news, Helen! Haly’s Circus had to pull out of their planned appearance in Gotham City due to a scheduling conflict, so our circus has been called in to take their place!” Giovanni Giuseppi, known better to the non-carny world as James Jesse, the youngest member of the Death-Defying Jesses, looked up from his book at his father’s exclamation.

“Really? That’s wonderful!” His mother replied. Giovanni grinned. This was perfect! Not only was being offered to perform in a huge city like Gotham a sign that Big Circus had finally, well, hit it big (pun completely intended), but it also meant that he would be able to perform with his new airwalker shoes in front of a much larger crowd than he had expected.

“We’ve finally made it, darling! This the Death-Defying Jesses’ first step on the road to worldwide renown!” With that, his parents kissed, and Giovanni made a face. True, he himself had made out with Alessia, a cute knife-thrower, two days ago, but when his parents did it, it was just weird.

“This is awesome! Today, Gotham City, tomorrow, the world!” he exclaimed. His mother laughed.

“Well, we hope so, Giovanni,” she said.

“We’ll be leaving Happy Harbor and heading for Gotham tomorrow morning, son, so I expect you to get a good night’s rest. No staying up late to read about that outlaw Jesse James, understand?” his father added.

“I understand,” Giovanni replied, crossing his fingers behind his back.

“I’m glad to hear it, Giovanni. Your father and I don’t want you to get any ideas from those books of yours,” his mother said. Giovanni had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Marcello, a joey, and Georgio, who ran a garbage joint, had been teaching him how to cheat at cards and perform sleight-of-hand tricks since he was five years old. If anything was going to cause him to become a delinquent, it wasn’t going to be history books about Jesse James.

“I won’t, mamma.”

“In that case, you need to get to bed. It’s already almost 11 o’clock,” his father said.

“Already?” Giovanni asked.

“Yes,” his father replied sternly.

“Oh, all right. Night, mamma. Night, papá. Love you,” Giovanni said. With that, he went to his bed, and, after about thirty minutes of reading his latest book under his bed covers with the aid of a flashlight, he fell asleep, mind filled with images of his airwalkers, applauding crowds, and one very pretty knife-thrower.

Giovanni woke up at six the next morning and spent the next three hours helping the other members of the circus prepare for the jump. Once everything was prepared, the entire circus spent the next three and a half hours traveling from Happy Harbor to Gotham City. Giovanni spent this time alternatively reading, bugging his parents, and tinkering with his airwalker shoes. When the jump concluded, the circus burst into action again, setting up the big top and the joints, unloading the baggage wagons, distributing all the props, and generally preparing for the opening night of Big Circus’ date in Gotham. In fact, Giovanni was so busy that, although he saw almost every member of the circus, including the ringmaster, while helping to set things up, he didn’t see his parents again until two o’clock in the afternoon. By seven-thirty, however, even the business of setting up a circus came to an end, and Giovanni was free to search for Alessia. Giovanni was passing by one of the floss joints when he heard a voice he didn’t recognize. Curious, he snuck closer, then hid behind one of the gilley wagons.

“And if you pay us, we protect you. Get it, Chandler?” Chandler was the owner of the circus.

“Yes. I get it. You’re gangsters! It’s a protection racket! If you don’t leave immediately, I’ll call the police!” Chandler replied.

“You don’t want to die, do you? Be sensible. Pay us and protect your show from “accidents”,” a second unfamiliar man said.

“Get out! Big Circus does not make deals with criminali!” That time, it was Alessandro, Alessia’s father and the ringleader of the circus, who spoke.

“Alessandro is right. I won’t pay your kind for protection,” Chandler added.

“Okay, buddy. It’s your funeral. But remember...accidents will happen,” the first unfamiliar man replied. With that, he and his companion walked away. Slightly concerned, but confident that Chandler and Alessandro would be able to handle the problem, Giovanni decided to continue his search for Alessia. He found her a few minutes later, and the two spent the next three hours chattering excitedly about the next day’s upcoming performance, making out, and eating floss before returning to their respective trailers. By the time he entered his home and bid his parents good night, Giovanni had forgotten all about the gangsters who had visited the circus.

At five fifty-five the following evening, the entire circus was in an uproar. The show would begin in only five minutes, and everyone was running around trying to find costumes, props, and other kinkers.

“Where are my knives?” Alessia asked.

“I don’t know. Where was the last place you put them?”

“Right here. But they’re not there anymore!”

“I’m hungry!”

“Then you should’ve visited the pie car an hour ago!”

“I found your knives, Alessia!”

“Where were they?”

“Under my clown costume.”

“We’ve got a straw house tonight! Every seat is filled!” someone shouted. Giovanni’s father beamed and turned to his mother.

“You hear that, Helen? This is it. We’re going to be famous,” he said. As he fiddled with his airwalker shoes, Giovanni grinned, too. He couldn’t wait to show his family-and the world-his new death-defying tricks!

“I heard, Jacob.”

“Giovanni, I’m so nervous! What if I’m awful?” Alessia asked.

“Don’t worry, Alessia. I’ve seen you practice. You’re terrific,” Giovanni replied.

“Thanks, Giovanni. You’ll be terrific, too,” Alessia said.

“Alessia, don’t forget your hat!” another knife-thrower yelled.

“Sorry, Giovanni. I gotta go. See you after the show!” With that, Alessia ran off.

“Giovanni, you remember your part in the act, right?” his father asked him. Giovanni nodded. Sure, he planned to make his own slight addition to the plans, but he knew what he was supposed to do.

“I start climbing the ladder once you and mom have met in the middle of the tightrope, kissed, and started walking back to the platform,” he replied.

“Good. We’re so glad to finally have you as part of the act, Giovanni,” his mother said.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to what will no doubt be the most thrilling, astonishing, and stupefying experience of your life!” Alessandro was starting his opening. The night’s performance had officially begun. Giovanni and his parents were scheduled for the second act, right after the clowns. To pass the time, Giovanni pulled a yo-yo out of a box of props and started messing around with it. Ten minutes later, the clowns were heading to the backyard, and Giovanni quickly stuck his yo-yo back in the box.

“And now, for the amazing feats of the Death-Defying Jesses, performed on a tightrope sixty feet above the ground!” Alessandro exclaimed. Giovanni and his parents entered the ring, waved to the natives in the crowd, and then walked over to the tightrope ladders, with each of his parents heading to the ladder on one of the sides and then scaling it. When they reached the top, they both carefully stepped out onto the high wire, and then started walking towards one another...only for the wire to suddenly snap! The next few seconds felt like hours, as his parents fell towards the ground below...then landed with a sickening, but surprisingly quiet, thud. After several seconds of staring at the scene in horrified shock, Giovanni ran to his parents, oblivious to the screams of the audience members.

“Mamma! Papá! Be okay! Please be okay!” he exclaimed. He kept waiting for them to yell “Surprise!”; for them to reveal that it had been some particularly clever trick used for the act...but deep down, he knew the truth. His parents were dead; life having played a cruel trick on them by killing them on what should have been the night of their greatest triumph. Giovanni burst into tears. How could this have happened? After several minutes, Alessandro gently led Giovanni back to his trailer, assured him that the Gotham City date would be folding due to his parents’ deaths, and then left him alone, something for which Giovanni was grateful. He didn’t think he could handle having anyone else around right now. A few minutes after he was left alone, he started sobbing again. His parents were dead. If the wire had broken a few minutes later, he would’ve died, too. How had everything gone so terribly wrong?

A few hours later, Giovanni decided to go outside in the hopes that doing so might clear his head and help him make sense of what had just happened to him. However, he didn’t get very far before he heard unfamiliar voices once again.

“Too bad about that “accident”, Chandler.”

“Yeah! But there wouldn’t be any accidents if you paid us to protect you!” Giovanni realized with shock that he’d heard the voices before...and suddenly, the earlier conversation Chandler and Alessandro had had with the men they had called criminals came rushing back to him.

“You murderers! All right, I’ll pay, but only so that no one else will be killed,” Chandler replied weakly. Giovanni felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach. His parents hadn’t just died-they had been murdered!

“Those crooks...they killed my parents, and now they’re extorting the circus. I’ve gotta call the police,” Giovanni muttered to himself.

“No, boy. Not yet!” a deep voice exclaimed. Giovanni spun around to see a tall, well-built man who was cloaked in a deep blue-or possibly black, it was hard to tell in the dim light-cape. Giovanni was used to strange-looking people-after all, he lived with the circus and was currently wearing a blue-and-orange striped uniform-but this man had them all beat.

“Who...what... are you?” he asked.

“I am Batman. I want to help you bring the men who murdered your parents to justice-but you can’t go to the police. Come with me, and I’ll tell you why.” Normally, Giovanni would have scoffed at such an offer-it did, after all, sound exactly like what a kidnapper would say-but at the moment, he was too consumed by grief to really care. If this weird guy helped him get justice for his parents, great. If not….what else did he have to lose? The two people he loved most in the world were already gone.

“Okay.”

“What’s your name, boy?”

“Giovanni Giuseppi. James Jesse is-was-my stage name,” Giovanni replied. “Batman” nodded curtly and proceeded to lead Giovanni to a really nice-looking car, and the two climbed into it.

“Don’t touch anything.” Under normal circumstances, this order probably would’ve been necessary, as Giovanni knew he had a bad habit of pressing buttons and grabbing things out of curiosity, but right now, he had no interest in doing anything of the sort. What he was interested in was finding out whether or not this “Batman” could help him.

“Why can’t I call the police?” he asked.

“Because this whole city is run by Boss Zucco, a powerful mobster. If you told the police what you knew, you would be dead in an hour. Because of that, I’m going to hide you in my home for awhile,” the man replied.

“Why? Why do you care what happens to me? I’m not even from around here. I’m just some carny kid,” Giovanni asked.

“Because my parents were also killed by criminals. Because of that, I’ve devoted my life to wiping them out...and protecting their victims, like you.” At this reminder of his parents’ death, Giovanni started to cry again. How had this happened to him?

About twenty minutes later, “Batman” pulled into what appeared to be a very large cave….that for some reason contained a boat, a bunch of gadgets, a large computer, several costumes that resembled the one “Batman” was wearing, a giant penny, a huge playing card, what looked like a dinosaur, and...a butler? What was this place?

“Get out of the car.” Giovanni complied, still mystified by the whole situation, and followed “Batman” to the butler.

“Alfred, this is Giovanni Giuseppi. Giovanni, this is Alfred Pennyworth, my butler.”

“If I may be so bold as to ask, Master Bruce, why have you brought a child into the Batcave?” The butler, who was apparently named Alfred, sounded very British.

“His parents were killed by Zucco’s mob. To protect him, I’m planning to have Bruce Wayne adopt him,” ‘Batman’ replied. Giovanni started crying again. He didn’t want a new father-he wanted his old one!

“My, my. The poor child. Are you sure that adopting him is really the right decision? After all, you don’t exactly lead a….conventional life.”

“I’m sure. I was in the audience, Alfred. I watched his parents die just like he did. If I didn’t offer him a home after that, I couldn’t live with myself.”

“Very well, Master Bruce. Who knows? Maybe a child will be good for you.” With that, “Batman” turned back to Giovanni.

“Giovanni, you are about to be let in on a secret that only two other people in the world know,” he said. With that, he pulled off his mask, revealing a handsome young man, probably in his late twenties.

“My name is Bruce Wayne. I am the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and-”

“You’re the guy who purchased the most expensive grandstand seat! The...the billionaire!” he exclaimed, stunned. He wasn’t exactly used to talking to billionaires-after all, most carnies could barely rub two nickels together most of the time.

“Yes, I am. When I was eight years old, my parents were gunned down in front of me by a mugger. Since then, I have devoted my time and money to becoming the Batman-the world’s greatest crimefighter,” Bruce Wayne/Batman replied. Giovanni pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. This was insane! Billionaire Bruce Wayne ran around in a bat costume to fight criminals? And wanted to adopt him? Why? He was just a poor carny kid...and besides, he was already fifteen years old. If Bruce Wayne really wanted to adopt a kid, why not adopt a baby? Surely a baby would be easier to mold into an heir for Wayne Enterprises than a teenaged nobody.

“And you’re revealing your secrets to me? Why?”

“Because you’re going to be living in Wayne Manor with me. Since you seem to be fairly intelligent, you would almost certainly have discovered my secret at some point even if I didn’t tell you, so I decided it would be best to inform you about it upfront,” Bruce Wayne/Batman replied.

“You’re...serious about this adoption thing? But I don’t know the first thing about being rich or running a company or…” Giovanni began.

“When I became Batman, I promised myself that I’d never let criminals orphan another child in this city. When I failed to prevent your parents’ deaths, I broke that promise. Adopting you is my way of making it up to you and to myself. And besides, you’re pretty young to be left on your own,” Bruce Wayne/Batman cut in. Giovanni frowned.

“I don’t want a substitute father.”

“And I’m not trying to be one to you. I know no one will be able to replace your parents. Just think of me as an ally who’s giving you a home.”

“Well...I…” Giovanni wasn’t sure what to think. On the one hand, he didn’t want to replace his parents with this guy he barely knew, and he was pretty sure that he would stick out terribly in high society, but, on the other hand, Bruce Wayne did seem to know what he was going through, and had promised to help him bring his parents’ killers to justice.

“If you’re really opposed to the idea, I can return you to the circus,” Bruce Wayne/Batman said. That settled it. Giovanni knew he couldn’t handle returning to the circus where his parents had died, no matter how much he liked the other carnies. The emotions would be too much for him.

“Well, if you really want to adopt me...I guess I’m okay with the idea of an ally like you.” Bruce Wayne/Batman nodded.

“I’m glad to hear it. In that case, Alfred will show you to your room,” he said.

“Follow me, Master Giuseppi.” The butler gestured to a flight of stairs.

“Just call me Giovanni.”

“As you wish, Master Giovanni.” That hadn’t been exactly what he’d meant, but whatever. He had more important things to worry about. Giovanni followed the butler up the stairs, through what appeared to be a grandfather clock, through an enormous library, and to the largest bedroom Giovanni had ever seen. It was as big as his family’s whole trailer!

“This is all mine?” he asked, stunned.

“Yes. Are you displeased with it, Master Giovanni?” the butler asked.

“No. I’m just...not used to having a room this huge,” Giovanni replied.

“I can fetch you one of Master Bruce’s robes, Master Giovanni. If I had known about your arrival, I would have ensured that a suitable wardrobe was prepared for you, but, under the circumstances, I will have to make due with what I have on hand,” the butler said. Giovanni shook his head.

“Nah. I appreciate the thought, but I’ll be fine sleeping in my clothes. I’ve done it before,” Givoanni replied.

“Very well, Master Giovanni. Is there anything else you need?” Giovanni yawned.

“Tonight I think I just need some sleep. It’s been a really, really long day,” he replied.

“In that case, I will take my leave of you. Good night, Master Giovanni...and I express my strongest condolences for the tragic loss of your family,” the butler said. With that, he bowed and left the room. Giovanni walked over to the enormous bed and laid down on it. It was incredibly soft, and that, combined with Giovanni’s emotional and physical exhaustion, meant that sleep claimed him quickly.

The next week passed in what to Giovanni was an utter blur. He attended his parents’ funeral, bid good-bye to Alessia, her father, and his other friends when the circus left Gotham, was formally adopted by Bruce Wayne thanks both to the billionaire’s fortune and his own lack of living relatives, and was enrolled in a ritzy private school. And so it was that Giovanni Giuseppi, a carny kid who’d never been in a classroom in his life, entered through the doors of one of the most exclusive high schools in the country, Gotham Preparatory Academy. On Alfred’s insistence, Giovanni arrived at his first class early-so early, in fact, that he was the first person other than the teacher to arrive.

“Hello. My name is Mr. Cunningham. I’ll be your American History professor. You must be Giovanni Giuseppi, the boy Bruce Wayne recently adopted. I look forward to having you in my class,” the teacher said.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I heard that you used to be part of a traveling circus. If that’s true, I’m sure this must be very strange for you.” Giovanni nodded.

“No kidding. This is the first time I’ve been in a classroom. My parents homeschooled me before...before…” He managed not to start crying, but it was a close thing.

“I understand, and I’ll do my best to make the transition easier for you.”

“Th-thanks.” The teacher nodded, and, soon after, other kids started entering the room. One of them, a tall, brown-haired kid, came up to the desk he was sitting at.

“I’m Jared Vreeland. You must be one of the new kids,” he said.

“Yeah. My name’s Giovanni Giuseppi,” Giovanni said.

“Giuseppi? I don’t know that last name, so you must be the circus kid Bruce Wayne adopted,” the kid replied.

“You’re right, I am.”

“Then you don’t belong here. Bruce Wayne’s always been eccentric, but adopting some circus vagabond and pretending that he’d fit in high society? It’s the craziest thing he’s ever done, and that’s saying something. I bet you’ve never even been to school before.” Giovanni frowned, now on edge.

“And I bet you’ve never understood basic manners.”

“I don’t need to be polite to vagabonds with no class!”

“Mr. Vreeland! That is entirely inappropriate! Sit down and leave Giovanni alone, or I will have you sent to the headmaster’s office!” Mr. Cunningham barked. Vreeland scowled, but complied, and Giovanni decided that he was definitely fond of Mr. Cunningham. About six minutes later, just as the bell was ringing, another kid rushed into the room, almost tripped over the flagpole, and then sat down in the seat to Giovanni’s left.

“I’m sorry I was almost late, Mr. Cunningham. I got lost,” the skinny, red-headed kid apologized.

“That’s all right. I take it you’re the other new student?”

“Yes, sir. My name is Hartley Rathaway,” the kid said. Giovanni noticed that he had a distinctly different accent than Bruce Wayne, Mr. Cunningham, and his other peers. That was odd. True, he sounded different from them, too, but he hadn’t been born in Gotham. Was it possible that this kid wasn’t from Gotham, either?

“It’s nice to meet you, Hartley. I’m Mr. Cunningham, your American History professor.” With that, the school day began, and, while the strict scheduling and multiple teachers were going to take some getting used to, Giovanni didn’t think he would have too much trouble with the coursework itself. What he was starting to suspect he was going to have trouble with was his peers. Apparently, Vreeland wasn’t alone in his anger at the idea of a circus kid being at their fancy school, and their hostility made him miss his parents...and the circus...even more than he already did. He had belonged there.

Roughly halfway through the day, the students broke for lunch, and Giovanni sat himself down next to the red-headed kid from his history class, who was apparently the other new kid at the school. He’d always been a curious sort, and he wanted to know the story behind his fellow newcomer. Besides, talking to the kid would help keep him from thinking too much about...about...not thinking about it!

“Hi! You’re Hartley, right? Mind if I sit here?” The kid looked surprised.

“I suppose not. Who are you?” Giovanni smiled (a bit weakly), sat down, and unwrapped his lunch.

“Giovanni Giuseppi. You sat next to me in history class. I’m the other new kid.”

“The one Bruce Wayne adopted?”

“Yep. I’m the carny kid...and apparently a lot of people here are unhappy about that.”

“I heard. And before you ask, I’m not one of them. I actually think it’s rather neat. I’m sure you’ve gotten to travel a lot, if nothing else. And...and I’m really sorry about what happened to your parents,” Hartley said. Giovanni smiled. It was good to know that at least one kid at this ritzy school wasn’t going to hold his being a carny kid against him, even if the kid had accidentally brought up painful memories that he’d been trying to suppress.

“Thanks for the condolences. And you’re right, I did move around a lot. Let’s see…I’ve been to Coast City, Star City, Opal City, Happy Harbor, Gateway City, Hub City, Ivytown, Central City, here…” He really didn’t want to think about his parents, so hopefully Hartley wouldn’t bring up what had happened to them again.

“You’ve been to Central City?”

“I was like three years old, but yeah. Why?”

“Because I’m from Central City.”

“Really? That explains why you don’t sound like anyone else from Gotham, then.”

“Yes. I’m the son of Osgood and Rachel Rathaway, the billionaire publishing magnates.”

“Never heard of them,” Giovanni replied honestly. Hartley smiled.

“You have no idea how refreshing that is.”

“So, what’s a Midwestern boy like you doing in Gotham City?”

“Well, I’ve been tutored at home for most of my life, but now that I’m high school aged, my parents had an excuse to send me away from home, supposedly so I could “meet the right people”. Of the schools that met their criteria, Gotham Prep was the furthest away from Central City, so they shipped me off here.”

“You make it sound like they’re trying to get rid of you,” Giovanni replied. He couldn’t imagine his parents...no, not thinking about it!

“They are trying to get rid of me. They sent me here so that they can hide their embarrassment of a son,” Hartley said quietly.

“Granted, I’m a nobody carny kid, so my standards are probably different from your parents’, but you don’t seem like an embarrassment to me.” In fact, as far as Giovanni could tell, Hartley looked and acted like the perfect heir to a huge corporation. In response, Hartley removed something from his right ear and handed it to Giovanni.

“A...hearing aid?”

“A very expensive, advanced one, but yes. A hearing aid. I was born deaf, and my parents have been disappointed with me ever since,” Hartley said. Giovanni handed the hearing aid back to him and, now a bit uncomfortable, decided to change the subject.

“So, do you have any hobbies?”

“I play the flute. And the violin. You?” Hartley replied.

“I’m the best cardsharp this side of Vegas, and I know loads of tricks you can do with yo-yos. And I’m an acrobat, of course,” Giovanni replied. Unfortunately, talking about his hobbies reminded him of his life at the circus, and that made him start to cry. Bruce Wayne, Alfred, Mr. Cunningham, and Hartley were all good people, but no matter how good they were, they weren’t his parents.

“Are you all right?” Giovanni shook his head.

“I...I miss my parents.” A few minutes later, he managed to calm down enough to stop crying, but he still couldn’t stop thinking about what he had lost. Those gangsters had killed his parents and destroyed his life, and all for some cash? How could they have done something like that? And why had it happened to him?

“I know that this won’t make up for what happened, but I’m so sorry for what happened to you. You obviously loved your parents very much,” Hartley said quietly.

“Why did they have to die? They never hurt anyone!”

“I don’t know. Probably the same reason my parents wish I didn’t exist.” At that, Giovanni looked back up at Hartley and gave him a slight smile. While their situations obviously weren’t exactly the same, in a way it was comforting to know that he wasn’t the only kid his age who had been hurt for reasons he didn’t understand.

“You know what, Hartley? I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

About three weeks later, Giovanni returned from Gotham Preparatory Academy to be greeted by a very grim Bruce Wayne/Batman.

“Giovanni, I’ve got proof that Boss Zucco was behind the murder of your parents. Tonight, Batman will bring him, and all of his cronies, to justice.” Giovanni smiled. This was wonderful! He was finally going to be able to avenge his parents’ deaths!

“I’m coming too,” he said.

“No.”

“He killed my parents! I want to help bring him in.”

“I said no. Even if it wasn’t incredibly dangerous, you don’t have the requisite physical training to fight crime.” Giovanni scoffed.

“Don’t have the requisite physical training? I’ve been practicing acrobatics since I was old enough to walk!”

“Crimefighting isn’t just a physical discipline. It also requires intense mental fortitude.” Determined to convince Bruce Wayne/Batman to help him bring in the men who’d murdered his parents, Giovanni rushed to his room, put on his airwalker shoes, and then ran back to the billionaire.

“I’ve got mental fortitude! I invented shoes that let me walk on air,” he said as soon as he caught his breath. Bruce Wayne/Batman looked skeptical.

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” In response, Giovanni activated his shoes and ascended several feet in the air. Once he was high enough for his feet to be roughly level with Bruce Wayne/Batman’s face, he stopped.

“Now do you believe me?”

“You invented those all by yourself?” Bruce Wayne/Batman actually sounded surprised, and Givoanni grinned. Surely he would be allowed to come along now!

“Yep. You see, when I was a kid, I was afraid of falling, so I decided to invent shoes that would make sure that I never fell. Pretty cool, huh?”

“If I don’t let you come, you’ll follow me regardless, won’t you?” Giovanni returned himself to the ground.

“Definitely.”

“All right. I know when I’m beaten. I’ll take you with me to bring in the men who killed your parents...but first, you must swear that you will fight with me against crime and corruption, and to never swerve from the path of righteousness!” Bruce Wayne/Batman exclaimed. Giovanni thought that that sounded a bit intense, but he would agree to anything if it meant that he could get closure for the deaths of his parents.

“I swear it. Can we go now?” Bruce Wayne shook his head.

“Not yet. I want to see the extent of your physical capabilities first.” Giovanni sighed, but allowed Bruce Wayne/Batman to lead him to Wayne Manor’s enormous gymnasium anyways. When Giovanni saw the trapeze, he grinned. True, his parents had primarily been tightrope walkers, but they had taught him a good deal about trapeze artistry as well. After a brief warm-up, he launched into his most complex routine, and executed it flawlessly. He’d never had more motivation to get the routine right than he did right now.

“I’ve been doing this since I was four years old!” he exclaimed as he landed. Bruce Wayne/Batman actually nodded, clearly impressed.

“As far as swinging ropes go, you could probably teach me a thing or two!”

“Told you I was good.”

“Don’t get too cocky. You’re obviously in good shape, but that doesn’t make you a trained fighter. If you want to help me take down Zucco’s mob, you have to promise to follow my orders to the letter. In this business, getting cocky can get you killed. Do you understand?” Bruce Wayne/Batman replied.

“Sir, yes, sir!” Giovanni mock saluted, feeling more like himself than he had in weeks. It was such a relief to finally be able to do something for his parents’ memories.

“I’m going to regret allowing you to join me, aren’t I?”

“Probably. Now are we ready to go?” Bruce Wayne/Batman shook his head.

“Not quite. You still need a costume and an alias. I don’t want people questioning why Bruce Wayne’s adopted son is running around fighting crime with Batman.”

“Gotcha. I’ll be right back.” With that, Giovanni ran back to his room, retrieved his old circus uniform, and then returned to Batman.

“What is that?”

“My costume.” Batman looked at him incredulously.

“A costume is intended to hide your identity, not make it even more obvious. The fact that you were part of the circus before I adopted you is well-known. Wearing that outfit is basically like wearing a sign saying that you’re Giovanni Giuesppi, Bruce Wayne’s adopted son. And even if it wasn’t, that costume is the most hideously garish outfit I’ve ever seen.” Giovanni scowled. His uniform was not hideous. What did Batman have against bright colors?

“Do you have uniforms in my size?” Batman frowned.

“Well...no,” he admitted.

“Then I’m wearing the circus uniform. If anyone gets suspicious, we’ll just say that I’m obviously not the kid running around with Batman. I was traumatized by my parents’ deaths-why would I want to run around in an outfit that would remind me of how they died?”

“Fine. But you’re at least going to add some accessories to it,” Batman replied. With that, he led Giovanni to the library, through the passageway behind the grandfather clock, into the cave, and to what appeared to be a dressing room of sorts, one that was full of costumes and accessories. Giovanni quickly ducked behind the divider in the middle of the room, changed into his uniform, and then returned to Batman.

“What other accessories do I need?” Batman handed him a yellow belt and a pair of black gloves.

“The belt contains a variety of useful crime fighting tools. The gloves prevent you from leaving fingerprints. Both are vital for our line of work.” Giovanni put the belt on, discarded the black gloves, and donned a pair of powder blue ones that were much more to his tastes.

“The belt’s a little big.”

“That’s because it was made for me. If you pull it taut, it should stay put.” Giovanni nodded and complied.

“Anything else?”

“You need a mask.” Giovanni nodded, picked up a black domino mask...and then noticed a huge blue cape. Grinning, he grabbed the cape, and proceeded to don both cape and mask.

“So, how do I look?” “Like a colorblind acrobat.”

“Because a giant bat is much less weird, right?” Batman frowned.

“You’re skating on thin ice, Giuseppi. That being said, your costume is basically complete at this point. Now all you need is a code name.”

“I know! You can call me the Trickster!”

“No. That sounds like a supervillain name.” Giovanni didn’t think so, but whatever.

“All right, how about the Prankster?”

“Taken.”

“The Joker?”

“Very taken.”

“Are you sure we can’t call me the Trickster?”

“Yes!” Briefly stumped, Giovanni pondered possible names for a few seconds...and then beamed.

“I’ve got it! You can call me Merry.”

“I suppose that’s acceptable. Merry it is.”

“So are we ready to go now?”

“Yes. But remember to do exactly as I say.” With that, Batman and Giovanni-Merry-entered the Batmobile and headed into Gotham City to take down Boss Zucco.

FIN

#james jesse #batman #fanfic #hartley rathaway #dc comics #au #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne

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rabdoidal · 4 years ago

Note

Spare backstory of the court jester & king?? 😳

bbbbbbbbackstory time

King Tobias Uwen (34) and Heartly the Fool (31) first knew each other as children, when Heartly was still just William and Tobias was still a Prince, 3rd in line to the throne. William was the son of a chef in the royal kitchen and would often be around the kitchen sneaking snacks and causing mayhem. One day, Prince Tobias snuck into the kitchens after his brothers dared him to go steal a tart without being seen. He was almost caught by one of the chefs, but William distracted them after seeing the other boy sneaking around, and once Tobias escaped, William bought him a tart he stole himself. After that, the pair were fast friends – Tobias leant William his books so he could learn to read, William taught him how to be sneaky, the two practiced sword fighting, and eventually, William left to study philosophy at a university in the next kingdom over. He promised to return with a degree and more worldly knowledge so that he could move among the nobility side by side with his friend without embarrassing him.

In the years he was away, the royal family saw great tragedy. The two eldest princes died in battle, fighting a group of barbarians in the cursed woods near their kingdom, and shortly after, the queen went into the forest after them and never returned. The title went to Tobias, now the only surviving people of house Uwen was him and his sister Emma.

William on the other hand got his degree in philosophy, but not before discovering a love for academia and the arts. He studied as much as he could on anything he could get his hands on, and after 4 years of study, instead of returning to his home, he joined a travelling circus to learn how to be a bard and entertainer. He felt no need to return, not only was he taken with wanderlust, but a small cynical part of him believed that it was unlikely the crown prince would remember the son of his chef after years of absence.

Years later, he finally heard news that the royal Uwen family was cut in half, and that the new king was doing a poor job of keeping the peace. William finally decided to part ways with the circus, thinking that he could put his entertainment skills to use in cheering up the people if nothing else. Upon his return, the castle was in shambles, and Emma met with him before he could get to Tobias. She explained that Tobias was relying too much on bad advice from the Queen’s old advisors, who she kept around largely as a public front, and ignored behind close doors. They were all from good families but didn’t have the experience to back it up. Emma offered him the role of the king’s hand, knowing that he was smart and loyal to Tobias. William tried to decline, saying that the rest of the nobility wouldn’t let a commoner be ranked that high, so Emma proposed that he act as the royal jester as to be close enough to help, but without the official rank. William agreed and Emma pointed to where Tobias was.

Tobias was overjoyed to see his friend, still heartbroken in the months since his family’s passing, and hurt that his friend had taken so long to return. Seeing William made him feel like he was filled with light, and finally like he was a normal person again. William admitted that he didn’t think he would be allowed back in, considering Tobias was now the king, but the two caught up, discussing William’s role as Tobias’ hand. Now William entertains the court with a handful of other performers, acting as Tobias’ primary advisor. After returning, Tobias felt his buried feelings for William resurface, longing for that relationship that could never be, while still worried that William might disappear again. For William, he never allowed himself to feel anything other than platonic for Tobias, but being allowed in his inner circle and being treated fairly and with respect has made him ponder the possibility that there might be something more between the two of them.

#personal #ocs #Anonymous

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kusunogatari · 4 years ago

Text

[ ObiRyū October | Day Four | Circus ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Orochimaru ] [ Verse: Fabulous Freaks ]

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Humans have, for uncounted years, enjoyed making spectacles of things strange, obscure, frightening. To gawk at what is different is to take comfort in one’s normalcy.

But few ever think of what it must mean to be different.

“Over here! Hurry up!”

Panting in panic, a young boy is wrestled forward, the canvas sack over his head barring breath and vision alike. Rough, chafing rope holds his wrists behind his back, a hand dragging him forward by an upper arm.

He has no idea where he is, or why...or who has brought him here. Around him, a cacophony of noises only make him all the more confused, a plethora of conflicting smells burning his nose. Smoke, food, dung, perfume.

...where is he?!

Why?!

Then something changes. A door is heard to open, he struggles up several stairs, and then it closes behind him. Everything cuts off. The noise, the smell...the abrupt change makes him stagger.

“...take it off. Let’s see what we used all this effort on.”

The canvas is whipped from his head, and the boy flinches, stumbling back a step. He’s...in some kind of wagon. Cluttered with photographs, props, and other paraphernalia he can’t begin to recognize. And before him, sitting on an elevated chair with one leg atop a knee, is a person.

He...can’t tell if they’re a man or a woman. Porcelain-pale skin is made all the more striking by dark eye makeup, the person in question looking down at him appraisingly.

Like a steer for slaughter.

“Ooh...he really is ugly, isn’t he?” The stranger gives a venomous chuckle. “No wonder he was abandoned. Who could stand to look at a face like that…?”

Taken aback at the sudden cruelty, the boy flinches. He wasn’t abandoned…! His grandmother, the last of his known family, had died a few months ago, leaving him alone. He’d taken to the streets, but...they were cruel to all, let alone someone so...so…

“What is your name, boy? Do you even have one?”

Glowering half-heartedly, he hesitates for a long moment. “O...Obito.”

“Obito...well, welcome to your new home, Obito.” The stranger gestures outward with both outstretched arms. “A humble traveling circus. Fitting for someone like you, don’t you think?”

“This isn’t my home! You kidnapped me!”

“Mm...yes, yes I did. But tell me, boy...what do you have to go back to? Look at you.” Taking up a cane, they prod at his ribs. “Thin as a rail, dirty, sickly...you’ll simply wither away if you stay out in the gutters. Why not stay here, with others displaced like yourself…?”

Obito steps back from their touch, still glaring. He knows this...person has a point. He’s been eating garbage and refuse, avoiding the cruel looks of strangers. Nothing but a miserable, fading existence. But...a circus…? “...w-what do you want with me?”

“To put you on display! To take what makes you odd...and let it turn you into a star. I have many oddities just like you. People who are different. That amaze, frighten, or confuse onlookers. People come from miles around to see our little family of freaks. All you need to do is stand and be gawked at. Do that, and I can guarantee you meals, a cot to sleep in, and a place to call home. More than fair, don’t you think…?”

Obito’s nose wrinkles. “...I already get stared at…”

“But you get none of the perks, do you? Why let yourself wither away, embittered and alone, when you could thrive, knowing that this hideous face is no longer reviled, but revered! It’s so simple, Obito…” The cane lifts, catching his chin and forcing him to meet the gaze of his captor. “...so just say yes. Or...I can dump you back in the gutter. It’s your choice. So make the right one, hm…?”

Chin trembling, Obito tries to logic his way out of this...but in truth, he knows he should agree. He has nothing left. Nothing. Would it really be that bad? To trade his pride for a chance at living? “...f-fine.”

Lips curl into a cruel smile. “Perfect…! Take him to the others, let him...settle in. We’ll introduce him to his new life in the morning.”

The same brute who dragged him takes out a knife, earning a flinch. But he only cuts the rope, letting blood and feeling flow back into the boy’s hands. Wringing them gingerly, Obito realizes he has little else to do but follow.

Now unblinkered, he takes in his surroundings once they leave the wagon. They’re behind the tents and attractions, animals sulking in cages and people milling about. Clowns, acrobats, beast tamers...all looking far less bright and animated than they do when the spotlights are on.

“This way. No lollygaggin’.”

Flinching, Obito follows the man into a tent.

Within, several cots are already strung up and occupied. They all look like adults. “Toward the back is an empty one. Go get some shuteye, you’ve got work to do in the morning.”

Stepping aside and eyeing him warily, Obito does as suggested and heads toward the rear of the tent...which goes dark as the flap falls behind the exiting troupe member.

He freezes, trying to let his eyes adjust.

“Pssst! Over here!”

Startling, he sees a light bloom ahead: dim, but visible. Like a moth to a flame, Obito hurries toward it, stumbling over things on the ground before reaching the very back of the tent.

Atop one of the cots is a person draped with a thin blanket, hiding their visage as it drapes low over their face. A pale, dainty hand holds aloft a candle. “That one there is empty. Just across.”

About-facing, Obito finds the empty hammock behind him before turning back to the other figure. It’s rather small...maybe someone close to his age? The voice is also diminutive, quiet and soft. Obito assumes it belongs to a girl. “W...who are you?”

“...just another one of the freaks,” she replies. “You must be new…”

He hesitates. “...yeah. I’m Obito.”

“...Ryū.” Slightly, her head tilts up, and though the shadows are deep beneath the blanket, the light nonetheless catches a pair of silver eyes. They flicker, and Obito can tell she’s studying his face.

Ashamed, he glances aside, hiding the deformed skin that stretches from brow to chin, ear to nose.

“...you don’t have to hide, you know.”

“...everyone stares…”

“But here, to be weird is to be normal. We all have something different about us. So when you put us all together...it’s really not so weird anymore.” Lifting her free hand, she pulls back the blanket.

Obito stares.

Like some kind of ghost, her entire form is colorless. Snow-pale skin, grey eyes, and every hair he can see completely white. “...they call me Specter when I’m performing. Kinda obvious why, huh?”

“But...you don’t look weird,” Obito protests, forgetting to hide his face. “You’re so pretty!”

She tenses, clearly taken aback before she brings the blanket back over her head. But he still sees the rosy blush in her cheeks. “...I’ve never seen anyone else who looked like me...except my mama. When she died...I got taken here. I’ve been here since I was four.”

“Four…?” He wilts - at thirteen now, it’s quite the difference. “...my gran took me in when I was a baby. My parents died when our house burned...everyone thought I would die from my wounds. But I didn’t. Now I just...look like this.”

Ryū’s gaze lifts. “...they’re scars…?”

“Along my whole side down to my thigh,” he replies bitterly. “Everyone else called me a freak...but Gran loved me all the same. When she...w-when she died, I had nowhere else to go…”

“And that’s when Orochimaru found you.”

“Who?”

“The ringmaster. They take in anyone they think will get more people to come to their circus.” It’s Ryū’s turn to sound bitter. “They tell us we’re a family, but...it’s all a lie. No one is happy here. We’re just ways for them to make money…”

“Why don’t you leave?”

“Where can I go? I’ve been here almost my whole life, I know nothing else. The only talent I have are the dances I had to learn...what use is that to anyone? And none of us get to make any money...we have nothing. It all belongs to the ringmaster. Including us.”

Not having an answer, Obito chews the scar along his lip in thought. “...someday, we’ll leave. When we’re grown! We’ll figure something out, right?”

Her gaze falls. “...someday.”

The pair fall into a somber silence, the wax of the candle starting to wane. But before it dies, Ryū lifts a hand. “...may I…?”

Looking back up, Obito hesitates...but then steps a little closer to her cot.

Gently, she lets a few fingertips trace along the ridges of the scars. They even extend up into his hairline, leaving him with lopsided locks.

Her dainty touches make the skin tingle, and Obito has to repress a shiver. “...ugly, aren’t they?”

“...no. They’re strong,” is her rebuke. “...they show that you lived.”

He has no retort for that. “...I-I should...try to sleep.”

Letting her hand retreat, Ryū offers, “Just do as you’re told, and you won’t have any trouble. And if you need any help, just ask me, okay?”

“...okay.” He moves to the empty cot, kicking off his shoes and struggling to lie down without being tossed back out.

Only once he goes still does Ryū extinguish her candle.

Outside, the muffled sounds of the waning circus evening keep him awake. So many unknowns, so much to fear. But...he has a dry place to sleep. Something over his head. Food to eat.

And...maybe a friend.

He can handle this...for now. But someday, he’ll escape. And he’ll take Ryū with him. He doesn’t know how they’ll do it, but...they will.

Someday.

The next morning, the same man that dragged him here wakes them at the crack of dawn. And Obito sees the others who occupy the tent: the rest of the malformed. A set of conjoined twin boys, another with extra limbs, a woman with a bearded face, and a man with just one eye in the center of his head are just a few of the people subjected to scrutiny.

Along with the rest of the troupe, there’s a hurried breakfast before they help in carrying out the preparatory tasks of upkeep. Cleaning up garbage, setting up props and tents, hauling in supplies from the train...whatever it takes to be ready for another wave of guests.

Once that’s done...it’s time for their real work to begin.

Led to a long, narrow tent, Obito balks at the sight of cages. And like trained dogs, every one of the so-called freaks takes their place within one.

“The hell are you waiting for? Get into place!”

Obito feels a push at his back, nearly stumbling as he’s forced toward a small, empty crate. Once inside, the door is shut...but not locked.

“Remember...look alive, ladies and gents! Don’t leave the guests disappointed.”

...and so it goes.

For hours and hours, people parade through the tent, gawking and pointing at the unfortunates within. Small children hide behind their parents, whose noses wrinkle in disgust. On and on and on it goes.

And then the worst possible happenstance comes to pass.

Shuffling past his cage, a pair of young people stop. Obito, despondent, looks up as he hears his name uttered in question.

...he knows these two.

Staring at him in horror, a boy and a girl meet his eyes, full of questions they can’t bring themselves to ask. For a long moment, the trio stare at one another...before the boy beyond the bars urges his feminine companion away, the pair of them whispering to each other before fading out of sight.

He’s never felt so humiliated.

Only once the daylight starts fading is the tent closed, and the cast freed to have their evening meal. Legs sore from being so confined, Obito winces and hobbles behind the rest of them.

Only Ryū waits for him.

“...I heard two people say your name,” she murmurs softly, noting his look of shame. “Did someone recognize you…?”

“...yeah,” he replies, tone warbling. “Now everyone will know.”

“...we’ll change cities, soon. I’m sorry, Obito.” She offers a hand, gently leading him back to where they’re fed.

But her day isn’t yet done.

“You...perform?”

“Mhm. I tightrope walk,” Ryū confirms. She’s changed into a white leotard and leggings, hair bound up tight behind her head.

“Can I see…?”

“You can stay by the back entrance - I think you can see from there. Just don’t let anyone spot you, okay?”

“Okay…!”

Tucking behind a barrel, Obito peers out as Ryū’s act is announced: Specter, the ghost of the circus who defies gravity itself. Up a ladder she climbs to a rope tied between two of the main poles of the largest tent. Barefoot, she makes her way out, balance maintained as she walks, flips, and seems to dance. With each stunt, the crowd gasps as the rope sways.

...there’s no net, should she fall.

Obito watches with bated breath, both fearful she’ll stumble, and yet entranced as she remains upright. But when the act is done and the applause sounds out, she’s still safe.

He sighs at last.

“That was amazing…!”

Giving him a glance from her cot that night, she ducks her head with a demure smile. “...thanks.”

“Does everybody do more than sit in the cages?”

“Some do, but not everyone.” Ryū considers him. “...do you have any special talents you could do?”

That makes him hesitate. “...I dunno.”

“If you find one, maybe you can get an act. If you do, you get out early to prepare.”

Well, that’s all the convincing he needs! Any less time he has to spend in that tent, the better. So when no one is looking, he starts practicing with throwing knives.

It takes time - they change cities more than once before he’s any good at it, and several more before he’s confident. Presenting his new talent to the ringmaster, he’s given a secondary slot to perform.

...and so it goes. Days blend into weeks, to months, and then to years. All across the land they travel, the circus torn down and put up again and again as the train takes them back and forth.

Soon enough, Obito is no longer a boy. After years of lugging supplies and pitching tents, he’s gotten far bulkier than his scrawny childhood self. Easily able to pack just about anything, he performs feats of strength for onlookers, including smashing a bell with a weight propelled by a hammer strike.

It earns him the stage name the Burned Beast.

And all the while, Ryū keeps up her acts. She too blossoms, growing into a young woman and becoming one of the most popular acts of the circus. Posters bear her face, and she’s often toted around on Obito’s shoulder to gain more attention before her act every night.

But it’s not just her talents she’s lauded for. While her ghostly appearance puts off some, it brings in others.

Needless to say...most back down when Obito looms up behind her, glowering them all back like mice before a hawk.

While he’s made a friend or two beyond Specter, the pair remain closest with one another. Ryū tends to any injuries he gets, gently keeping him in tip-top shape. And Obito serves almost as a guard whenever necessary.

And neither of them have forgotten their wish to someday escape.

They often speak of it long into the night, ruminating and reminiscing: discussing what they’ll do once they’re free.

The only question is how to do it.

Staring out at the darkening horizon one night, Obito’s brow furrows. “...seems like it’s going to rain tonight.”

“Really?” Ryū joins him at the mouth of the barrack tent, pinning up her hair as she glances out. “...well, it should be fine. We’ll be inside for the rest of the night.”

As she retreats, Obito keeps up his vigil. Something doesn’t feel right.

...but they have a show to put on.

Over the years, Ryū’s act has grown and evolved. Nowadays, she’s packed in on Obito’s shoulder, waving to the crowd until he throws her straight up to cling to a pair of hanging ropes. Twists and turns see her travel up and down the lengths until she finds her way to the tightrope.

And at Obito’s insistence, he remains below, ready to catch her should she fall. For a time, everything goes as per usual. Ryū wows the crowd with her stunts and agility.

But as the act switches to its second phase, the wind begins to pick up, rain pelting the canvas of the tent. And in the air, thunder rumbles.

It’s not just rain...it’s a thunderstorm.

Watching Ryū, Obito spares glances to the entrances. The weather is blowing in, causing those on the ends of the stands to huddle inward. Light flashes as bolts fling across the sky.

...this isn’t good.

And then, with a mighty clap, a streak of lightning hits the top of the tent...and flames begin to spread in spite of the rain.

Panic.

Circus people and guests alike scatter, scrambling for exits as the fire eats at the structure.

“Ryū!”

Huddled atop her rope, Ryū looks down to Obito and his open arms. “I-I -!”

“Jump!”

Steeling herself, she does just that, landing in his grip with a grunt.

He runs.

Like tinder, the rest of the circus is going up in flames. Canvas is quick to catch from flying sparks. Wagons erupt into fireballs. Cages are opened to let animals free, people fleeing into the rain.

“Obito!”

Still carrying her, he ignores her calls. Into the barrack tent he barrels. “Grab your things!”

“But -?”

“This is it! Our chance to run!”

Panic pales and pinches her face. “Where?!”

“Anywhere! We can’t stay here, it’s all -!”

With a crash, a flaming beam collapses atop the tent only feet from them, tongues of fire reaching eagerly for anything and everything it can reach...and blocking the way out.

“Run!”

Hauling her bag of meager possessions as Obito does the same, Ryū follows as he slashes the rear panel of canvas with a knife he’s kept hidden away from his act. Neither of them look back, fleeing toward the tracks where the engine - trying to avoid the spreading flames - begins to move.

“Get on!” Tossing his bag, Obito turns to Ryū, picking her up and setting her within the car.

“Obito!” She reaches a hand, hauling him up as he lands halfway onboard. As the locomotive begins to pick up speed, they watch the flaming carcass of the circus fade into the darkening distance.

...shocked silence falls over them both.

They aren’t the only ones who ran. Several others huddle in this car, and the rest are just as occupied.

No one finds the ringmaster.

Claiming a corner, the pair of them hunker down, clinging to their bags and trying to wrap their heads around the devastation.

“...it’s really over...isn’t it?”

Obito gives her a glance. She seems far more upset than he expected. “...yeah. It is.”

Clearly frightened, she leans into him, Obito not hesitating to wrap protective arms around her frame. “...I-I can’t believe it…”

“...we’re free.”

She looks up, expression slowly slackening to wonder. “...we’re free…”

“No more cages. No more ringmaster. Nothing. We can go our own way, now. Just like we planned, for so long…!” Carefully, he takes her face in his hands. “...no more Specter. No more Burned Beast. Just Ryū, and Obito.”

She softens, bringing a hand up to rest along his wrist. “...together.”

Eyes flickering over her face, Obito lets himself smile...and then do something he’s wanted to do for quite some time now. Lowering his own, he slowly - hesitantly - brings his lips to hers.

There’s a moment where she stiffens...but then she goes lax in his hold. It’s a slow, chaste, somber thing...but when they pull apart, they reconverge into a warm, comforting hold.

There’s no telling where they’ll end up now, with their pasts now up in cinders. But wherever it will be, they’ll be there together.

So this is uh...very angsty x’D I don’t think it’s at all what Meg prolly pictured but it’s immediately what came to mind for me kjhdjfgdg Circuses are, in some ways, not very great places. They’ve improved over time of course, but many still abuse animals, and even people still. Oro is our ringmaster as their actions in Oto could be seen as something similar: gathering up people who don’t fit in to “profit” off of them. So while they can be fun, my mind immediately went to the darker side of them mostly because of Phantom of the Opera but shhh. ANYWAY, I could’ve fleshed this out more but I’m on a bit of a schedule ahaha~ So parts might seem a little rushed, but I tried ;w; That said I really enjoyed writing this one. Angst isn’t ALWAYS my cup of tea, but when I have a craving for it, it’s lots of fun x3 Thanks for reading!

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #orochimaru #fabulous freaks [ au ]

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years ago

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Inside Alastor’s Head (sensitive content warning)

Part 1

“Use the princess to convince Lucifer to hand over Hell to me. Get to know Charlie and her family, see how this so called Happy Hotel works. I can’t wait to see her face when she realizes it’s actually the Hazbin Hotel. Has a better ring to it, anyway. May as well speed up the process by bringing in Niffty and making grumpy Husk join in. It’ll be everything Charlie’s dreamed of…and when it all blows up in her face, I’ll be enjoying my popcorn.”

“So Charlie likes music and dancing, too? How marvelous! These hotel residents can enjoy my singing and illusion magic. (They won’t know what’s coming next.)”

“Who, me? Evil? Why would you think that? It’s totally unlike me to broadcast my massacre of demon citizens who stand in my way. (Except it is.) Man, seeing them running and sacred…reminds me of game I used to hunt when I was alive.”

“The demon princess wants to redeem sinners. Ha! Probably the silliest claim I’ve ever heard. A nice refresher from the usual grim news on the Picture Show. Her singing was a nice bonus. Oh, the good old days of being on the air…basking in the attention and glory. I told jokes, advertised shows, announced fun events. I even got to report on murders for the news, probably my favorite part. Soooo close to being able to advertise Jambalaya. Several other announcers got the part, so I wore a disguise, snuck in one day and sliced their heads off. Still loved the expressions on their faces. Here in Hell, I have no opponents in the radio business. ”

“Those overlords look scary and cocky, but they’ve heard the tales of me…they’re scared deep down, for good reason. Sir Pentious didn’t stand a chance when I summoned black tentacles to wrap around him and his ship. Along with my powers, I have shadowy spirits to do my bidding. That’s why you can sometimes see them when I attack. You don’t need brute force and insults to win someone over. All it takes sometimes is some illusions, a little help from the Loa…and just smiling all the way through.”

“My microphone cane surly comes in handy. It’s what allows me to project events in front of me and broadcast them on the radio. It has a life of its own, but I’m in control, of course. All part of the magic deal with the Loa.”

“I enjoyed watching the picture show and going to the circus when I was a boy. Watching the animals and the performers was lots of fun. I may have burned down the circus tent after being rejected from a comedian role. But it was only an accident: my fingers slipped when I was getting cigarettes for father. Whenever I got sad, my mother told me “You’re never fully dressed without a smile.” Her motto still rings true to this day.”

“I enjoyed hunting deer in my human life, yet I also feel some connection to the animal. They’re majestic, agile, and are free to travel pretty much anywhere. Though they’re often attacked by hunting dogs…or in my case, police dogs. The beasts mauled me just before I died. It was back in 1933. Thus, for my so called evil deeds, I arrived down here in Hell. And I gotta say, it’s quite a fun place to be!”

“Sex and romance don’t interest me. Don’t get me wrong; Charlie is a charming demon belle, and Vaggie is adorable and feisty…but they’re just a means to an end. Maybe I’m too self-absorbed to want to deal with being judged by others. More fun, less responsibilities when you’re on your own. Though, I’ll admit, I did meet a lovely lady in my human life, but, certain circumstances led to a tragic end. Don’t get me started on Angel’s disturbing sexual remarks. That gross stuff makes my skin crawl. (Heh, that stuff bothers me but seeing the blood of my victims does not. Go figure.)”

“When I smile and touch people, I’m in control. It’s the quickest and obvious way to show my dominance. Frowning shows doubt, weakness, and I can’t afford to appear weak. When other’s try to touch me, it’s always unexpected. I can never tell what it will feel like on me. My space, my rules. Touch me too much, and I hate it. Like when he…my father…did things to me…in front of mom. Abuse, molest, he did it to both of us when the drinks were in his system. You can see why I was shocked and overjoyed when I finally stabbed the life out of him. I fled into the woods in the hours before dawn, the police hot on my tail. Saw the faces of deer before I got shot in the head. The dogs came upon me and…nothing.”

“I got my love of cooking from my mum. One of her favorite things to make was jambalaya. A tasty cuisine of rice, chicken, sausage, shrimp, a whole bundle of things. She added so much spice to it (and accidentally burned herself making it), it almost killed her. I thought it was fabulous, the heat invigorating to my taste buds. The secret spices she used by accident? Ghost peppers and Wasabi. It reminds me of home in New Orleans…a world of music, daily life, and alas, racism. People who didn’t know me at the radio station, white people and sometimes black people, badmouthing me for my mixed Creole heritage. Once I perfected my shooting with my rifle, well…they got what they deserved in the dead of night.”

“Ah, I loved the stock market crash of 1929! There were so many orphans, so many kids in distress! Perhaps it made me feel better to know that there were those who had it worse than me. I’ve had my share of bad luck, it was about time for others to experience some of their own.”

“I sometimes kill people at random, when I’m especially mad. It’s sort of like a game: the more you kill, the more dominant you’ll appear. I’m not fond of killing innocent children or chasing people, I mostly prefer to catch people off guard. To slaughter them behind the curtain, if you will. I would never rape or eat another person…such uncouth, disgusting behavior. Chasing my victims takes too long. Best to go at my own pace and decide their fate for them. But no worries; for women and innocent strangers, I make their deaths as painless as I can. Gotta keep being a gentlemen in some aspects.”

“Voodoo had been practiced by my ancestors, way back in Africa. I read about the Loas and many of them were just like me: well-dressed, powerful, lovers of food, wine, the good life. From what was passed down to me, I was able to communicate with them. They granted me their powers to use in my afterlife…but only if I was willing to suffer an “early, gruesome death,” along with the loss of a potential lady partner… you know the rest. I know some of the symbols and they provide me with visualization of the spells I want to conjure.”

“Singing, swing music, the radio, dancing, and dad jokes…those hobbies brought light to my otherwise mundane, grim human life. Even if other people don’t find those jokes funny, I always get a kick out of them. They’re so simple…a basic for any comedian. Though I do wish I knew how to tap dance. Maybe my magic can help me out...”

Part 2 (Sensitive Content Warning)

“Hello mortal humans, wherever you may live. For those who may not know me, I’m Alastor, the Radio Demon from Hell. Thank you for tuning in to 66.6FM, the only radio station in Hell and the only one I can talk into in your world.

You may be thinking, demons aren’t real. Hell and Heaven aren’t real. He’s probably just using a low radio voice for effect. Well in a way I am, (laughs). But I can assure you…I’m very much real, though not really alive anymore. You see, with the help of some imps from Immediate Murder Professionals, my shadow has access to portals from Hell to Earth. He is Rotsala, and he can travel through radios like I can. He’s been lurking everywhere; in your car radios, those alarm clock radios you have in your homes. And recently, (with Vox’s help), he’s figured out how to access online podcasts, if that’s what they’re called. Thanks to him, I’ve gotten updates on your modern world. It’s very strange and very wild…I’ll never really understand it. Mostly because I’m from the early 1900s and I’ve been in Hell for decades.

Now, if you remember from last time, I discussed my thoughts on the Hazbin Hotel in Hell and Charlie. About how she was a lovely friend and you she would be of great use to me to take her father’s place on the throne. And you got a glimpse of my love of cooking, sewing, singing dancing, along with the obvious killing and eating people part. I could talk for hours about myself, but not this time. On this broadcast, I’m here to talk about all of you.”

“No, no, no, don’t try and turn the radio off. I have it stuck on full volume, so much that even covering your ears won’t do. You probably already know that I constantly smile to show my dominance and power. Frowning indicates weakness. But…I have learned there are a few exceptions when it comes to showing other emotions. I am…actually upset. Very rarely do you find me in this state. So unless you want my shadow to rip you apart from your insides, I suggest you listen very, very, carefully.”

“First, let’s discuss this global pandemic that you all are dealing with right now. You refer to it as the corona virus or Covid 19. It seems that everywhere, people are dying right and left as this virus rapidly spreads. Jobs are being lost, entertainment sites shut down, people stuck in their homes for months, wondering if they’ll make it through all this.”

“I’ll admit, this pandemic is just as entertaining as the Stock Market Crash of 1929. So many orphans, so many hungry people waiting in line for food, or not being able to be with their loved ones. Mostly it’s fun to watch because I’m already dead and I like watching others suffer. (sighs)”

“But yes, it’s also a mixed bag. When I took a peek at modern New Orleans I was frankly stunned like a deer in the headlights. (audience laughter). How utterly lifeless it was! Bands not playing live anymore, restaurants closed. Even more shocking, Mardi Gras was cancelled! I grew up with the parades and the laughter and music in my previous life. To have all that taken away…I might as well have died sooner. It really is a shame how we take everyday life for granted…we’re not concerned about death or loss until it hits us right in the face. Trust me, I’ve been there. Back when the 1918 Spanish Flu killed my mother. Back when I cried at her gravestone even with a large smile on my face. That day that I lost all sense of humanity and became the demon I was destined to be.”

“But what of you folks? You wear facemasks every day, you wash your hands, you pray every day that somehow, you and your families and friends and loved ones will get through it in several years. Maybe you will. Maybe you won’t. One good thing about the pandemic: the enforcement of the six foot rule. Social distancing is essential, and I think it should be mandatory in Hell! I hate being tainted and touched, that’s why I wear my gloves all the time. If only Angel Dust had that rule drilled into his head, it would make my afterlife so much easier. I always wash my hands before and after cooking, and especially after getting my victims blood all over them. You should too. Pure common sense. You can never be too clean and careful no matter where you are. But enough about that.”

“Hell is being more overpopulated than usual, and now I can see why. Thousands of people dying and being sent down here…I bet that stuffy hothead Stolas is having a party now that he’s not lonely anymore. You all are careless fools. You huddle close together during protests or pool parties or fight each other in grocery stores. All you think about is yourselves, hording toilet paper and food and not thinking of those who might actually need it more than you.”

“That drama gets old fast, even for me.”

“Many believe they have their rights taken away just because they can’t go to the Picture Shows anymore. Well let me tell you this: nurses, teachers, policemen, caregivers…they’re all risking their lives on the front line trying to heal others and slow down the spread of the virus. They witness deaths all the time and for every person they don’t manage to save, they feel guilt that will weight them down for weeks, months or even years. And the majority of you laze around, too absorbed in your own worlds to take notice.”

“Want something to do to cure your agonizing boredom? Well, sadly, killing and cannibalism isn’t recommended as you would put your health at risk. But you can try new recipes at home. Learn how to make classic foods, especially good Creole dishes like Jambalaya. If you can make it better than me and my mother, I’d be impressed but we all know that’s not going to happen. Sing along to some songs. Listen to the radio. Watch some classic musicals.”

“Or for the online folk, watch the Hazbin Hotel! Make art and stories about me torturing my enemies. Laugh at all those who ship me with other characters because we know that I’m not interested in sex and romance. But to be heard…those who attack other people in the fandom over tying me down with Charlie and Angel and whoever else…stop it. Enough is enough. Respect other people’s fan works and let them indulge in their crazy imaginations. I belong to no one and I will befriend and flirt with others however I see fit. “Some asexuals and aromantics can still fall in love and enjoy sex.” Yes, that’s true, but my standards are different. Back to the virus…there are some people that deserve to get sick from it. The whole world could get infected and die but I’ll still be thriving in Hell…provided that I don’t get killed.”

“I don’t really care about any of you. I’m just here to bring you the harsh truth. Doctors and essential workers are trying their hardest to make sure you all and enjoy your mundane lives. There’s no need to glorify them as heroes either. Just treat them with respect and move on. Patience is a virtue…I know that many of you need to go back to work, but putting others and the community at risk will just create an ongoing vicious cycle of misery. But if you want to expose yourself in the name of “making America great again” or wherever else you are, then be my guest. I’m always up for more prey to hunt down here.”

“Now, onto the second topic: protests. Believe it or not, I, too, was saddened and shocked by the death of African American mortal George Floyd. He’s up in Heaven, not with me, so don’t fret.”

“Yes, I’m entertained by the violence, cars setting on fire, the screams and yells, very thrilling! But to be honest, sometimes I feel safer in Hell in comparison to what’s going on in your world…and that’s saying something.”

“All the riots going on, protesters being sprayed with teargas, being hit with batons. Looting, shooting, all of this madness going on. Charlie says that inside every demon is a rainbow, but I say inside every demon is a lost cause. Perhaps we’re both right. Though they’re may be some good inside everyone, we’re all imperfect lost causes. We’re subject to sin, violence, discrimination, and endless chaos. We are failures. It’s inevitable. There was no hope for me, and now there’s no hope for any of you.”

“Police brutality needs to end. They are supposed to protect you folk, not use power to push everyone back for no reason. The rioters who looted stores, set cars on fire and put others in danger like that, need to take full responsibility for their actions. They don’t need to unleash their pain and rage onto the city and others. Killing and chaos is my job, no theirs.”

“Racism, sexism, homophobia, they’ve been around since mankind became civilized. Black Lives do Matter. Those who have been downtrodden, beaten up, pushed to the side like dirt, need to have their voices heard. Otherwise, those in power will keep using and abusing their power and authority until there’s nobody left.”

“Just take those white police and your president for example. The policeman arresting George Floyd and pressed a knee onto his neck for no apparent reason, other than he was a person of color who so happened to be caught doing something wrong, at least to them. He kept saying “I can’t breathe” and no one stepped in to stop the situation. The policeman was arrested but that’s a mere slap on the wrist in comparison to a life lost. The cops involved need to experience the same fate.”

“And don’t even get me started on this Trump. A narcissist who sees himself as America’s God and has a cult of brainwashed voters and supporters. One who throws tantrums whenever someone disagrees with him. He sees women as sex objects and minority groups as tools and trash to be disposed of. Tear-gasing innocent protesters while holding a Bible posing for pictures. Satan himself would be shaking his head at this. Life on Earth was Hell for me and apparently it’s gotten even worse.”

“And not to mention Trump boastfully claiming that he’d unleash vicious dogs and military force on protesters. Only a few people would see that he inadvertently made a reference to when African Americans and ethnically diverse people were attacked by police dogs when protesting and trying to make their lives better. As a biracial French Creole who was mauled to death by dogs, I’m offended and appalled.”

“Oh but I’m just a fictional character who can love or hate anybody. I bet I love Trump and Angel and world suffering and sex just because I’m a crazy furry demon. Right? Right?”

*intense static and screeches*

“GROW UP. WAKE UP. IF YOU THINK ANY OF THOSE THOUGHTS, THERE’S A SPECIAL CIRCLE IN HELL FOR YOU.”

(deep breath) “Apologies.”

“All Lives Matter? Wrong. A pathetic way to derail from the main problem and include white people so they can play the victim. The truth is, no lives matter except my own. Second to my life is my mom, Charlie and her friends. (Except Angel). Charlie’s project of rehabilitating sinners will eventually come to an end when humanity suffers a Greater Depression and all fall down into Hell. I have all of eternity to witness the end.”

“Onto the last topic. You know that I secretly desire to take over Hell and spread chaos to Earth and Heaven, yes? If Charlie behaves, she’ll get to rule by my side along with Husk, Niffty, Mimzy and Rosie. Will that happen? Who knows? You’ll have to stay tuned for the next episode, if it even comes. (laughs). You’ll never know what happens next, just that everyone enjoyed my jambalaya at the hotel.”

“Oh dear, did I strike a sensitive nerve? Did that hurt your insides and your mind more than our previous topics? You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”

“But have you ever considered any underlying reasons as to why I enjoy spreading chaos and destruction? I may not be God but I do have god-like powers.”

“The obvious answer? Sheer absolute boredom! I’m always seeking new forms of entertainment to enjoy. And what better way to do that then to watch sinners scream and tremble at my presence? Of course, I would always like my friends to smile and have fun with me, singing dancing, making deals, or whatever.”

“But let’s say I was God? Why send Exterminators to reap Hell of demons every year. To curb overpopulation, yes, but to also remind demons of their place. God and the angels and the chosen reside in “paradise.” Only those who are fully “good” and devoted to helping others and believing in God can enter. It’s the perfect fear tactic: remind demons that they are lost causes who deserve to suffer and potentially met their end.”

“Perhaps I do want to help Charlie with the hotel. Not just for entertainment but to introduce her to the way real life works. Seeing others fail will happen no matter what and that will be a pleasing sight. Demons reside in Hell due to the lives they’ve lived before. There’s no undoing what is done. Even if she does manage to redeem a sinner or two, there will always be those who try to claw their way up and then tumble back down to failure. I am a deal-maker, perhaps the most untrustworthy one in Hell. I want to test others, see how powerful and smart they really are.”

“This all ties in to a larger lesson that is bigger than any of us can comprehend. With the pleasures of drugs, sex, killings and sin, comes the cost of knowing you are seen as outcasts deserving of death by those in the heavens. Whether it’s Angels, Exterminators, Overlords or people in politics and management, the elite have always used power, fear, rules, and any means necessary to keep people in line in the name of “order” and “God’s will.” Lucifer would explain this better than me as he has centuries of experience. I’m willing to bet that Charlie will learn this the hard way, sending off sinners to “paradise,” only to find that she and her parents are stuck down here forever. Earth is between Heaven and Hell; it is full of good and evil, the sins and freedoms of Hell but also the passiveness and illusions and sheep mentality of Heaven. It’s all too easy to blame others and deny what’s going on around you. Go to Heaven for an enlightened life and forget about the criminals, the homeless, and the misfits below your feet.”

“Let me tell you what my name means. It means “tormentor,” “avenger.” I’m a seeker of entertainment who loves to torment others to boast my status. But I am also one of vengeance. Retaliation against anyone who takes advantage of others. Those in Heaven, Vox, Valentino, Lucifer, my father, all of those who treated me like dirt for who I was… my magic is there to benefit myself…but it is all used to teach others a deeper lesson in mortality and what one believes.”

“And me being an anti-hero could somehow lead to my redemption? Ha! No. As long as more episodes don’t come on the air, then I will continue my rampages and broadcasts in Hell. And if anyone lays a hand on me, my mother, or Charlie and my friends, then they will wish they had met their fate from the virus instead.”

“Agree or disagree with me. I don’t care. Thank you for listening and as always, stay tuned.”

#alastor #hazbinhotel #covid_19 #protests #black lives matter

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sparklyjojos · 4 years ago

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THE SAIMON FAMILY CASE recaps [1/13]

These will be full recaps of the latest JDC book, The Saimon Family Case (彩紋家事件) from 2004, which is a prequel taking place in the late 70s. While it’s a prequel, it can be read without any knowledge about the series. (It does spoil one death from Carnival at the end, but I feel like everyone already knows about this particular one).

It won’t be obvious in the recaps, but the book consists of seven parts seven chapters each (similar to Maijo’s Tsukumojuku) with two additional parts at the end.

The novel is light in terms of content warnings (for a murder mystery, anyway), but small kids WILL die in this, and we’ll be talking a lot about a specific type of systemic xenophobic violence near the end.

See that big family tree above? Save it somewhere for future reference. Believe me when I say you will need it. (Also, as always in the recaps, family name will be given first, Japanese-style.)

Well then—has everyone found their seats? Is everyone ready to witness the most splendid illusion?

Let's start the show.

PART 1

A note at the beginning informs us that soon 20 years will have passed from the end of the famous Saimon Family Murder Case, often called the “Crime Revolution” because of its impact on the future of similar complicated incidents. The details of the case have been hidden from the masses, but the time will soon come when everyone will learn the truth.

It’s the very last day of the year 1999. The mysterious first person narrator of the framing device is an older gentleman attending a New Years celebration in Las Vegas with his wife. They watch a fairly young blond magician perform close up magic for the guests. The magician borrows a 10,000 yen bill from the narrator, seals it in an envelope, sets it on fire, and it suddenly turns into a rose in his hand. When the narrator is asked to check his wallet, inside he finds a bill with the same denomination and serial number, but of a noticeably larger size… among a few other stunning differences.

“Happy New Millenium!” the magician exclaims.

This little illusion awakens memories from that case in both the narrator and his wife. As the world heads towards the new century, they are the only people left who were so closely involved in those tragic events of old.

It's September 19th 1977, and the entire Saimon family celebrates the 99th birthday of their old matriarch, Saimon Tamako. The celebration takes place on a performance stage next to the family's main residence in Tsuwano, Shimane Prefecture. Tamako’s daughter Akiko pushes the matriarch’s wheelchair towards the stage.

A perceptive guest may notice two other old women in the crowd who look astonishingly like Saimon Tamako, though they are a little younger (97). These are twin sisters called—if you can believe it—Tsukumo Tamako and Tousen Tamako. The three Tamakos look near identical, and in fact once used that similarity for their magic acts: all secretly shared the single stage name of Soga Tenju. That was decades ago, of course. The Tamakos no longer look like the beautiful young woman (actually women plural) known from her most famous illusion, Courtisane and Bell.

Once Akiko and Tamako take their place on the stage, all the lights suddenly go out for just a second, and in that brief darkness two things happen.

One: the red-and-white stripes of the celebratory curtain decorating the stage suddenly turn into black-and-white stripes of a funeral curtain.

Two: Saimon Tamako dies.

Saimon Tamako is ruled to have died of natural causes, not unusual at her age, and the curtain changing color must have been just someone’s attempt at a distasteful joke.

However, the threat of something darker going on still seems to lurk in the background. There’s a lot of people with bad intentions in this world. As part of the Saimons, Akiko is well aware of that. She recalls what she knows about the family's past.

Back at the beginning of the 20th century, Saimon Tamako made her living performing magic with a traveling circus group. Eventually she met a rich man, married him, and with his financial help established the Soga Tenju troupe.

Of course, the magician Soga Tenju was actually three women, all looking identical, all having similarly unclear pasts and wandering with the same group, all being called simply Tamako because no one even knew their real names.

It happened that three rich men of Tsuwano, who all have been friends—Saimon Taishin, Tsukumo Taigen, and Tousen Taikun—fell for the same “Soga Tenju”, and upon discovering the secret behind the magician decided to marry one member of the trio each. Since this was the era it was, the women didn’t really have a say in the matter. (Akiko hopes for more emancipation in the future and feels sad that she probably won’t live to see it; she’s over sixty herself.)

The tendency for similar names came with all sides of the family, it seemed. The three rich men were themselves a little weird, and that shared “Tai” in their names was something they added intentionally to show their bond. Their respective firstborn children—Tsukumo Haruko, Tousen Natsuko and Saimon Akiko—were given names referring to haru (spring), natsu (summer) and aki (fall). Since the Tamakos were so similar looking, their daughters also looked close enough that one could mistake them for triplets.

Akiko herself has three sons—Taishi, Akio, and Takayoshi—but now that they are all adults, they no longer feel so close to her, especially the youngest Takayoshi, who never felt inclined to stage illusion and broke all contact with the family. He didn’t show up for Tamako’s birthday and even now, a month later, hasn’t contacted them yet.

On October 19th, Akiko is busy sewing new props for a magic routine, the Five-Ball Cascade, in which juggled balls seem to change colors between red and white in mid-air. Remembering her times as the young magician Soga Tenshuu, she attempts the act just one more time. As she throws the balls in the air, she feels a stabbing pain in her chest and suddenly sees familiar faces in the balls—her mother, her husband, her sons—changing from white to red, like a bloody cascade. As they fall to the ground, Akiko does too.

A month later, on November 19th, a few members of the Saimon family are combing the Tottori sand dunes in search for young Saimon Yuuta, who went missing the previous day after announcing he’d like to show them something at the site. Everyone’s on edge; it’s barely been a month since Akiko's death.

A rope is found sticking out of Umanose, the famous “horse-back” dune, and several people pulling on it manage to unearth what looks like a giant card—four of diamonds—and Yuuta’s corpse tied to it.

Not even a few years have passed since JDC’s founding when young detective Ajiro Souji and his wife Mizuki take part in Saimon Tamako’s tragic birthday celebration.

The couple feels at home in Shimane, both because Mizuki was born in the prefecture, and because Ajiro has been friends with the Saimon family ever since receiving their help during the Ajiro Family Murder Case—the experience which prompted him to create JDC in the first place.

That case, as usual, was solved by his grandfater Soujin and mentor Shiranui Zenzou [and if you want to know more about it, read Carnival]. Both of them are splendid detectives, but decided young Souji should be the one to become JDC’s representative instead.

...but we keep saying "JDC" here, and the truth is the tiny group doesn’t call itself by the fancy English name Japan Detectives Club yet. It goes simply by Nihon Tantei Club and occupies the third floor of an office building filled with boutiques, clinics and the like.

Aside from Ajiro the representative, the staff consists of six office workers and twelve detectives (not counting Soujin, who is almost always out on business). The detectives are divided into the Shiranui Section and Kirigirisu Section, named after their respective leaders. There is some tension between the sections: the Shiranui part puts more value on past experience and doesn’t approve of choosing young Souji as their representative, while the Kirigirisu part praises his potential and thinks of the organization’s future.

So far Nihon Tantei Club is pretty unknown, no dramatic and giant solved cases to their name, and everyone has a strange conflicting feeling: at once wishing for the peace to never end and wishing for the inevitable tragedy to just happen already; to just get to the point where what should be unusual becomes the new normal, because everyone knows deep down it has to happen one day.

On November 22nd, Kirigirisu Tarou as usual takes the train to work, thinking about how the world will inevitably change as the new century comes around—though, of course, he can’t be sure he will actually get to see it, as nobody knows what will have happened in over twenty years.

Maybe he’s mulling over the passage of time and worries about the future so much because he's a man without a past. Kirigirisu lost all his memories to head injury a few years ago, at the same time when he was wrongly accused of murder. Fortunately, he was proven innocent thanks to both Ajiros, could begin new life as a detective, and even found a wonderful wife called Kano. He would love it if this usual everyday life could continue indefinitely… although without crime, a detective like him would be out of a job. For now he wants to focus on helping the Ajiros as he can.

Kirigirisu arrives at the office, which is mostly empty this early in the morning. Well, except for the delinquent detective Raiouji Rokenrou, looking just like you’d expect a punk named after rock’n’roll to look like (sunglasses, a lot of hair gel…) and taking a nap on the couch. Apparently Ajiro Souji had a long meeting with him about something last night, and now wants to talk to Kirigirisu.

Ajiro Souji is a sharply dressed 29-year-old man, easy to mistake for a normal office worker in the crowd. (Kirigirisu always flinches a bit seeing his elegant tie; he himself has a strange phobia of wearing anything around his neck, which he suspects has to do with an unknown event forever hidden behind his amnesia).

They each light a cigarette and have a friendly conversation. Ajiro mentions that he recently tried to switch to cigars, but alas, it seems that it’s still “too early” for him to appreciate them; about forty years too early, according to grandpa Soujin. [Seeing as Ajiro is a huge cigar fan in most of the series, grandpa miscalculated by at least two decades.]

Soujin is a thin man of short stature who hardly looks like someone in their seventies, although his hair is just as white as his usual suit, with just a black bowtie breaking the color. He always gives off the air of a mafia boss, his sheer power of personality taking hold of everyone around. Soujin apparently feels constant wanderlust, so he almost never shows up at the office. In fact, Kirigirisu hasn't seen him in over two months now. Who knows what he’s doing.

But back to the situation at hand, Ajiro wants Kirigirisu's help. For the next few days, they will investigate a case together in another prefecture, Rokenrou taking care of Kirigirisu’s section in his absence.

The case surrounds a strange series of deaths. First, Saimon Tamako dying (seemingly) of old age on her birthday on September 19th. Second, her daughter Akiko suffering a (seemingly) accidental death on October 19th, when a misplaced sewing needle stabbed into her heart. And third, a very strange but (seemingly) accidental death of another Saimon family member that has just happened on November 19th. Ajiro and Kirigirisu are to investigate whether or not the perfectly spaced string of incidents may be an act of serial killing.

The case is of personal importance to Ajiro. After all, the person who requested their services is the same man that helped solve the Ajiro Family Murder Case: Saimon Ryuusui, known better as the great magician Soga Tensui.

(The third person narration swaps here to a completely different font, and informs us helpfully: but ah, before the two detectives could head to Tsuwano, they would go to Yamaguchi first, to watch the magic show of the Saimon family, a marvelous experience that Ajiro has already had a few times because of his friendship with the family, and that Kirigirisu would witness for the first time.

And from the very moment they were invited to see the show first, they felt uneasiness settle inside them. Only much, much later would one realize just how deep the hidden meaning of the show really was, and that solving all its mysteries was crucial to solving the Saimon Family Murder Case.

You could even say that the show itself, filled with so many wondrous mysteries to solve, was the true Saimon Family Murder Case. If so, then the magician Soga Tensui could be defined as its culprit—and if so, then Ajiro and Kirigirisu have just walked right into a marvelous illusion indeed.)

[>>>NEXT PART>>>]

#sparkly reads the saimon family case #maijo and jdc stuff

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ververa · 5 years ago

Note

Wowie, here I am again! Your work is absolutely amazing, I look forward to every time you update next! May I request a Bette & Dot x Reader with something sweet? Like them going from cute crushes to an adorable couple? Thank you❤️❤️

Thank you ❤️❤️ I’m sorry it took me so long 🙏🏼 Also I’m not sure if that’s what you wanted, but I hope you’ll like it.

And thank you for request ❤️

“The state of dreaming”

Bette & Dot x reader

Life had never been merciful for you. Since you could remember you had always felt like a misfit. As if there was no place for you in normal society. You didn’t have friends almost at all, because majority of people saw you as a freak. You preferred spending time alone. It’s not that you didn’t like people, you were simply done with everyone’s shit and hearing that you’re weird.

So instead of wasting time on senseless conversations you were doing gymnastics and attending martial art classes. It was of course another reason for them to criticise, for why would a girl prefer fighting from learning how to dance or cook.

Luckily for you, you had understanding and loving parents, who had always supported you no matter what. You had always been really close with them, so it was a huge shock for you when they both died in a car accident. You were 16 and you were left in the world alone.

Until you reached your majority you had to been taken care of. Your new caretakers happened to be your aunt and her husband. They were good people, who were going to church every Sunday. Although they didn’t have their own kids. After some time that you spent with them you could say that God knew what he’s doing not blessing them with any children.

It’s not that they treated you bad. It was quite the opposite, but there were rules. A whole lot of rules and practices that you had to follow. You did try to adjust to living as they wanted you to, but you were a rebel. You had your own habits and you didn’t like being told what to do.They wanted to change you. They needed you to sit still and look pretty, because that’s who they were – a perfect family. And you as an insubordinate teenager were a threat to their high social status. Both, your aunt and uncle couldn’t deal with you. They were fed up your behaviour, so your uncle found a residential school for you. The school that was supposed to teach you to follow the rules and act “appropriate”. But you knew very well that nothing and nobody could make you change.The school wasn’t that bad, regardless the school uniform wasn’t you thing. Also you didn’t enjoy reading the Bible and starting every day with participating in mass. You got bored and could sit still any longer, so you decided to find something that would occupy you. You remembered seeing the circus tents in town and figured out that it may be the thing that you needed to distract yourself. You spent there almost the whole evening watching spectacular performances. They’re all amazing and you were sure that nothing could make that night better. However you quickly changed your mind, as the last performance began. That’s when you saw them for the first time. Bette and Dot Tattler. The most beautiful and extraordinary twins you had ever seen. And when they started to sing you got completely lost. It was hard to say what made you feel like that – probably everything about them. They were just stunning and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of them.

Since that evening you began to come to every performance. You were there literally every night and it didn’t go unnoticed. Elsa noticed you almost instantly, but you were too focused on the twins to pay any attention to the owner. When the twins were around you paid zero attention to everything around you. It seemed as if the whole world stopped existing when you could see or hear them.Your head was full of them. You couldn’t focus even at school and soon you got into trouble.

Everything you did – sneaking out at night, skipping classes or not paying attention – wasn’t the worst for them, cause they still could “fix” it. But when they found out you don’t like boys, but girls – the real hell began. They called you freak and expelled from school claiming that was unacceptable.

However, you didn’t care much. Actually you were happy that you wouldn’t have to come back to that place again. You took your stuff and left, though you didn’t even have enough time to think what to do next, as none other than Elsa Mars stood in front of you.

“Hello, my dear. Going on holidays?” she asked looking at my luggage

“I… no. I’m well… I’m moving out. They expelled me”

“Oh no. Why would they do that?”

“Well, because I’m a freak”

“A freak?” she repeated

You nodded.

“That’s interesting. Tell me more, dear”

“There is nothing more to say”

“Oh, there must be an interesting story. What’s your peculiarity?”

“I… um… well…” you hesitated

“I’m not going to judge you. I’d rather like to befriend”

“Well… I… I don’t like boys”

“You don’t have to like everyone”

“No no. I mean…” you took a deep breath “I’m into girls” you whispered

“Ohh… Really?”

“Yeah. I’m not like ‘normal’ girls. I’m just leaving in my own state of dreaming” you laughed nervously

“That’s truly fascinating” she took out a packet of cigarettes and offered you one

You took it and let her light it for you.

“I’ve been observing you for quite some time. You’re always sitting in the last row during the performances. And I was wondering why? Why you are there almost every evening?”

“I’m just enjoying it”

“You are not afraid of them?”

“Of who? Performers? No! Why would I? They’re incredible. So talented and different, but in positive meaning…”

Elsa looked at you surprised.

“Well” she smirked “In these circumstances I have an offer for you”

“What offer?”

“I need someone who could help me at my Cabinet of Curiosities” she looked you up and down “And you seem to have all the necessary qualities. You’re young and pretty. Also I know you’re into gymnastics. So, we could both help each other. I can give you home and a job in return for your commitment and hard work”

Elsa’s offer was unexpected, but you accepted it without hesitation. You didn’t have any other options, as you didn’t want to come back to your aunt’s house. Also it was you opportunity to meet the stunning sisters and you weren’t going blow you chance. You had been seeking for place that you could call home, where people would understand you, for so long that when you met the troupe it seemed to be unreal. They were so kind, helpful and protective. It felt as if you were dreaming and you knew for sure that you didn’t want to wake up from that dream.You loved them all almost at once. Ethel treated you as if you were her own daughter and Jimmy was like a brother that you never had. Ma Petite was the cutest creature you had ever met and Pepper was following you almost everywhere. You became the member of the family that they created and you were sure that nothing better than that could ever happen to you.And the twins… You were amazed since the first moment you saw them.

There was something about them that was magnetising you. You couldn’t really understand it, but there was nothing you could do about how they made you feel.It was like being on a magical mystery ride. It made you feel dizzy and sick. At times you couldn’t breath as if you were under the water, but seeing them you knew you’d be fine. They were the only remedy that you needed. You knew that your life wouldn’t be complete without them. What would you do without Dot’s smart mouth and Bette’s cute laugh? What would you do if you could never see their beautiful smiles? That wouldn’t be the same.You loved everything about them – even the things that they hated about themselves. For you their imperfections were perfect. At that point you were ready to do everything to keep them safe from the world outside, but you didn’t dare to tell them how you feel. You were sure they didn’t feel the same about you and didn’t want them to stop talking to you. So you decided to let it be as it was and dreamed that maybe one day they would love you too. You enjoyed little moments that the three of you had. Your talks during breakfasts. How they were laughing at your jokes. Or when they’re blushing, because you complimented them.It was usually them who got shy, however that day it was you.

Elsa had bought you and made you to wear a new costume. It was quite revealing, as you’re supposed to attract new spectators, and you didn’t like it at all.You were standing in front of a mirror in Elsa’s tent.

“Elsa… I c-cannot wear it” you started

“Yes, you can”

“No...” you looked down on your feet “It’s too… It barely covers my body”

“You know, its purpose is to barely cover your body”

“I’m not going to perform in it” you shook your head

“Y/N” she stood behind you and placed her hands on your shoulders “You’re young. You have a perfect body. And you look absolutely stunning in this costume”

“I-” You didn’t finish as you heard two familiar voices. Elsa could see how distracted you got and made use of it immediately.

“If you don’t believe me, let’s ask Bette and Dot” she said

“W-what? Oh no… Elsa!”

She didn’t listen to you, of course, so you quickly put on a robe – which was the first thing you found.

“We came to ask Y/N if she would like to go for a walk with us” Bette said cheerfully

You would love nothing more, though at that moment you were too shy to even look at them.

“I’m sure she will go with you. But first you need to convince her to wear that costume tonight”

“What costume?” Bette asked with excitement

You looked at her, then at Dot. Bette had that sweet smile on her face and Dot was staring at you with curiosity.

“Y/N” Dot began in the most soothing tone you had ever heard “Will you show us?”

“Please” Bette added

How could you say no to them? There was no way you would refuse to do anything when they’re looking at you like that. So you slowly took off the robe. At this Dot gasped.

“You look gorgeous!” Bette exclaimed

“Breathtaking” Dot added shyly

You could feel how your cheeks got redder and redder with every second.

“See? I told you” Elsa saidBut you didn’t listen. You’re already lost in the girls eyes.

Bette was smiling widely and Dot was smirking looking at you, as you were performing in that damn costume. Everything was going fine, until the end.

You’re on your way to the tent when the twins called you. You stopped immediately wanting yo know what your favourite girls needed.

“That was absolutely amazing Y/N” Bette said

“T-thank you” you blushed

“You really look stunning” Dot said biting her lip

“I...”

“You disgusting slut!” you heard a male voiceYou turned back only to see your uncle. What the hell was he doing there? You didn’t find out, as you began to argue. He was yelling at you, calling you stupid and ungrateful slut for leaving the school and joining “the group of freaks”. That was enough for you.

“Don’t you ever call them freaks!” you snapped at him “They’re my family!”

You would most likely go back to your tent, but you uncle jerked you and then began insulting them again.

“Stop it!”

“Y/N come on” the girls tried to calm you down

“Look at them” your uncle pointed at the twins “They’re monsters”

At that words something inside you exploded. You couldn’t fight it and instead of leaving you turned back and hit him so hard that he stumbled

Bette screamed and wanted to cover her eyes, but Dot didn’t let her. They were standing there for a while not knowing what to do. Meanwhile a few men moved in your direction ready to help your uncle.The fight got even worse, however after all that time you had spent learning martial arts you were capable of defending yourself and others. Luckily for you Bette and Dot called Jimmy and he separated you from the men.

You knew you got into trouble yet again when Elsa called you. You didn’t have time to change your clothes or dress the wounds that you had after the fight.

“What the hell was that Y/N?! You cannot beat our spectators”

“They insulted us…”

“I understand, but it doesn’t give you the right to fight. You are not allowed to hit anyone. Did I make myself clear?”

“But…”

“Promise! Promise that you won’t do that again”

“I-I cannot promise you that. Because if anyone would ever call Bette and Dot monsters I’ll beat the shit out of them!”

Elsa looked at you a bit surprised. She shook her head “I see” she smirked “Well, I’m glad that you can take care of yourself and your girls, but please try to control yourself. We need spectators and you can’t treat them like that even if they deserve it. Now you’d better go and take care of those wounds. And then pack up your things”

You nodded and left.

It was later that evening. You were packing your things, knowing that the whole troupe is going to move to another place, when you heard a weird noises outside your tent. You decided to check what or who was that, however as you move farther you could recognise two voices. Bette and Dot were arguing

“We cannot just come and say it just like that” Dot stated

“We’ve been hiding it for too long, Dot”

“What if she doesn’t feel like that? Have you thought about it?!”

You couldn’t figure out what they were talking about, so you decided to interfere.

“Hey” you smiled moving towards them

“Y/N...” Dot said shyly

“What are you doing here? Come in”

Dot looked at Bette giving her some kind of warning look, before they decided to move.

“So, what’s up?” you asked once again as you were inside

��We…” Dot started hesitantly “To check… To ask how are you feeling?”

“Bullshit!” Bette snapped at her sister

“Shut up, Bette! I told you it’s not the right time”

“Right time for what?” you asked confused, but they seemed not to pay attention

“For you there would be no right time!”

“I said no!”

“Girls!!!” you yelled and they looked at you “What is it? You can tell me...”

But suddenly they both stopped talking.

“Bette?” you tried to smile at her

She only shook her head.

“Dot?” you asked in the same soothing tone, but none of them spoke

“Whatever it is you can tell me. You can tell me anything. You know you can trust me” you said smiling at Bette and gently wiping the tear that was flowing down Dot’s cheek

“We are in love with you!” Bette said unexpectedly

You looked at them surprised.

“I told you…!” Dot didn’t finish looking at you shocked expression “I swear Bette, if I could i’d kick your ass”

“It’s not my fault! It’s stronger than me...”

They started to argue again, but you understood none of their words. Your brain stopped working and crashed on that one sentence.

“B-Bette… Dot?” you spoke up after a while

“We’re so sorry” Bette said and Dot huffed

“No no… I mean… Oh my. Do you mean that? Mean that for real?”

They slowly came closer. Bette took one of your hands and Dot caressed your cheek

“Yes” Dot was the first one to speak

“We love you so much Y/N” Bette added

“Since the moment we saw you”

“You’re like our ray of sunshine”

“You’re so kind and sweet”

“Is this a dream? Am I dreaming? Cause if yes… please don’t wake me up”

Bette smiled even wider and Dot giggled.

“No. It’s not a dream. It’s real” Dot whispered leaning in and gently kissing your lips, while Bette kissed your cheek

After Dot there was Bette’s turn and you’re happy to kiss them both. You couldn’t remember being that happy ever before. Being so close to them. Holding them in your arms after so long was beyond compare to anything. And when you whispered “I love you. Bot of you” for the first time and saw how their beautiful eyes sparkled you were on cloud nine. All that you wanted was to live in that state of dreaming forever.

#ahs #ahs freakshow #bette&dot #bette&dot x reader #sarah paulson x reader #sarah paulson imagine #american horror story imagine

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anuschkalova · 6 years ago

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Devotion (Jeremiah x Reader)

Requested by anon: Hey idk if you do smut but if not just skip it. Can you do a short reader x pre/after spray Jeremiah. I’m the being he’s like really sweet and gentle but you see him getting more and more obsessed over the reader. I’d also like for the reader to have grown up in the cirus and maybe turn into Harley Quinn? But I’d mainly just like to see the first part. I love your work and hope you can do this. Au Revoir A/N: Thanks so much for the request! I enjoyed writing it and tried to keep it short. Honestly, I could have written so much more, but I had to contain myself! I hope you enjoy it. 💗 Requests are currently open, so feel free to send me some. Pairing: (Pre/After Spray) Jeremiah Valeska x Reader Word count: 1.959

„Jeremiah?“, you called your boyfriend’s name as you strolled through the bunker’s labyrinth. It took him almost six years to build this complex construction and every time you passed those cement walls, a swell of pride filled your body. Jeremiah was a brilliant engineer, his works the result of dedication and perfection. He earned every applause for it, and yet, he would never witness the appreciation first hand. It was you who looked into the impressed faces of business men and woman, you who bowed your thanks and it was you who told him the good news afterwards, here, in the bunker - where Jeremiah awaited you like a trapped mouse.

It was gut-wrenching knowing that his insane brother, Jerome, was the reason for Jeremiah’s restricted lifestyle. But whenever you were on the verge of tears, he assured you he was fine. >>It is my choice to live that way, Y/N.<< He’d squeeze your hand then and his eyes turned guilty behind the glasses. >>But not yours.<<

Jeremiah felt constantly bad for making you his proxy and assistant - a decision you didn’t regret, so you cupped his face in your hands to lock gazes. >>Yes. But it is my choice to love you.<<

„Jeremiah?“ Still no response. You got closer to his office and noticed the partially opened door. Hesitantly, you entered the pitch black room and spotted Jeremiah in front of his small TV. The flickering light flooded his figure and let his deformed shadow erratically flash on the wall. Hunched over the monitor, Jeremiah’s eyes were glued to the news anchor’s lips who reported the escape of various dangerous inmates of Arkham Asylum, one of them being Jerome Valeska.

You turned on the light and Jeremiah flinched, eyes widened in alarm. „Hey“, you soothed him, but he shook his head furiously. „He’s out. He is after me. I knew this day would come. I knew it!“ Jeremiah stood up to pace back and forth, one hand buried in his sleek ginger hair. You already knew about Jerome’s break-out and it was a matter of time until Jeremiah would find out too. Seeing him like this, afraid and overwhelmed with emotion, was unbearable. You could feel his pain, because you were there.

The Haly’s Circus was your birthplace and the home of many performers. Your parents were acrobats and while they elegantly swirled high above the ground, you always looked up in awe and felt lonely beneath them. Moving from town to town with the trailers and the tent’s scaffold, it was impossible to have friends. That changed when Lila Valeska, a snake dancer, joined the circus with her two sons - Jerome and Jeremiah.

They were in your age and once the spotlights were on, loud music and cheer filling the crowded tent, the three of you made up your own little show outside on the field. Jerome was quirky with eyes gleaming whenever he drew a laugh from you, while Jeremiah watched apart with a book in his hands, behaving reserved.

Then one summer night, Jeremiah had sneaked into your room and you gasped at the bloody dots on his back. „Jerome put nails under my bedsheet“, he whined and confided every cruelty he had to endure to you. The stories made your blood boil, but Jeremiah pleaded for your secrecy. Needless to say, you had avoided Jerome since then and things got even worse. The monstrous brother had reached the peak of brutality in Kansas City, two weeks prior to your 8th birthday. You remembered being woken sharply by panicky screams and you would never forget the sight of heavy black smoke escaping the window of Jeremiah’s room. It was the last time you saw Jeremiah before he was taken away by his uncle to a better place.

You followed him, years later after Jerome had killed his own mother. Gotham City became your new home and for the first time in your life you were rooted. You succeeded in creating a normal and steady life, but your search for Jeremiah remained unsuccessful. You didn’t find him, no.

It was Jeremiah who found you.

Reunited with your childhood friend and him making you his business partner, Jeremiah soon ignited a spark in your heart that bursted into blazing flames. You secretly devoted your soul to this man and would protect him no matter what. Jerome would never hurt him again. Ever.

„Listen to me, Jeremiah“, you spoke softly and put your hands on his shoulders. He stopped in his tracks and you smiled at him encouragingly. „Jerome won’t get to you. Remember: You are the smart one.“ Your words seemed to calm him as his tensed muscles relaxed under your touch. He sighed. „You’re right“, he mumbled, nodding in agreement. Satisfied, you stepped aside to pour Jeremiah a drink.

„You have the upper hand over him. His craziness is powerless against your great mind.“ Jeremiah took the whisky glass you offered him, his half lidded eyes hung on your every word.

He was a sucker for your sweet voice praising his cleverness - it massaged his ego so delicately that he couldn’t help but whisper your name in defeat. „Y/N…“, his warm breath tickled your face and you pressed a tender kiss on his mouth, a little invitation. He took a sip as he watched you walking to his desk, sitting on the metal surface and crossing your legs. Jeremiah let his eyes glide from your ankles up along your gorgeous legs, to your skirt, until he met your amused expression.

Caught in the act, he looked away and blinked a few times and it made you chuckle. Jeremiah had the steady habit to act like a gentlemen, even in your relationship, but it only made things twice as much fun.

„Come here“, you said teasingly and the engineer just eyed you, cocking a brow. „Hey, I’m not making fun of you. Promised.“ Jeremiah shook his head slightly, downing his drink in one and finally headed for you. You tilted your head innocently when he towered over you, his fingertips gently caressing your blushed cheeks. „You play foul, woman“, he blamed you playfully and you entangled your legs around his hips like a snake its prey. „Who said I’m playing?“ „The sparking mischief in your eyes.“

Jeremiah sealed his lips with yours ever so tenderly. The kiss tasted of peaty whisky, but it was his skilled tongue that got you drunken with passion. Once again, Jeremiah fanned the flames of your unconditional love, turning your body into melted wax in his hands. And if he’d be pleased to, you would let him shape you into anything.

Jeremiah, who covered every inch of your skin with butterfly kisses whilst his grip held you like finest porcelain, was unaware of the power he had over you.

That changed after he inhaled his brother’s toxic gas; when Jerome had died and therefore Jeremiah was reborn.

While Jeremiah turned into his darkest version, from within and without, trooping up Jerome’s followers around him to destroy Gotham City in order to rebuild it - your love remained unchanged.

However, he gave you the choice after you two had broken into Wayne Enterprises. Standing in the dark hallway, Jeremiah held out his gun to you. Kidnapping his abusive brother and beating up the GCPD was one thing. Killing people another. Jeremiah noticed your inner conflict. He lowered his piercing green eyes as he pressed the gun’s muzzle on your bottom lip, the cold steel made you shudder.

„My dear Y/N, my love…“, he sweet-talked and you listened. „I have great things ahead for us, a shiny future in a new Gotham City that we will re-create. I want you there, but it’s up to you.“ The gun pushed harder onto your soft flesh. „Either you’re by my side…“, Jeremiah dragged the weapon slowly to your temple, „… or you’re against me.“

You removed Jeremiah’s hand from the gun and he eyed you expectantly, watching as you pressed it against your own head. „I would do anything for you, even killing myself just to proof it.“ Your determined stare caused his red lips to twitch and Jeremiah took his time to savor your delicious devotion. „Good girl.“

After that you followed him to the research department and shot two security guards in the head. The blood on your hands tinted the contract of your lifelong loyalty. It was the end of hiding and living below ground level - and time to step out to a new beginning.

Stealing from Penguin was a piece of cake. The three monkeys that watched the warehouse of his ammunition and weapons were literal meatheads. You stepped out of the shadows confidently and they raised their guns quickly, frowning at the sight of a woman.

„Hey guys“, you said in honeyed tones, waving sweetly. The three men smirked filthily. „Got lost, doll?“, one of them asked. „Are you looking for daddy?“, another added and earned some dirty laughs from his fellows. „But daddy is right here, silly“, you giggled and the guy on the left side emerged. He let the machine gun dangle around his torso and licked his lips. „She’s referring to me…“, he growled and you titled your head, awaiting him with a wicked grin.

Before he could lay his paw on your waist, a gunshot prevented his actions. The bullet hit his hand and a high-pitched scream escaped his lips. „Oh please, be a man and shut up!“ You kicked his knee to sandbag the whining hulk, cutting his throat to finally hush him. „Who’s next?“, you asked excitedly and the two guys aimed their weapons at you. „Two at a time? How naughty…“ „You bitch!“, one yelled, but he got stabbed in the back like his fellow. With the three bodies on the ground, the gate to unlimited ammunition was open and Jeremiah’s followers ran inside.

„That’s right! Take all that you can carry! We have one giant truck to load!“, you instructed and proudly observed the stealing. Box after box left the warehouse and just as box number six passed the gate, a cold leather-hand grabbed your neck from behind. You gasped in bliss, knowing who it belonged to.

„Are you disappointed that I didn’t aim for that roach’s eye?“, Jeremiah hissed into your ear, pulling you against his chest. You gasped again, shaking your head. „It was generous of you letting me kill him. Daddy.“ Jeremiah growled and released you, strutting ahead with his hands crossed behind his back.

The weak light of the halogen lamps brought the deep green component of his black hair to life. „Daddy had to waist a bullet because of your little game“, he lectured and you faked a pout.

„Don’t be mad. You have a truck full of ammo now. And just imagine the face of this hobbling bird when he comes in tomorrow to count his treasure.“ Jeremiah peeked at you over his shoulder, a devious smile forming his violet lips as he reached out his hand for you to take.

Willingly, you let him swirl you on the spot and leaned backwards, safe in the knowledge that Jeremiah would support you. And he did. With his hand holding your waist firmly, the other intertwined with your right hand, his pale face was just a heartbeat away from your needy lips.

„Look at you. So thirsty for death and destruction. Gotham should be paralyzed with fear at the sight of you, my dear.“

In a swift move, Jeremiah pulled you up against his chest and your nails dug into his purple suit jacket. Eyes lingering on his lips, you whispered: „Well, there’s one more thing I’m thirsty for…“ His smirk broadened. „You are insatiable.“

#jeremiah x reader #jeremiah valeska #jeremiah valeska x reader #jerome valeska #gotham season 4 #gotham season 5 #Gotham #harley quinn #imagine #devotion #cameron monaghan

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trickshxt · 5 years ago

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SHITTY AUs ABSOLUTELY NO ONE ASKED FOR

Pokemon AU

Barney and Clint grew up in a small, rural farming village outside of Azalea Town in the Johto Region. The two had a rough childhood and they often spent as much time away from home as possible. When an accident orphaned the two boys, rather than spend years in homes or orphanages they ran away to pursue any young child’s dream: become a Pokemon trainer.

While the boys did not, in fact, become instant Pokemon masters, they did find a home for awhile in the form of a traveling circus troupe. They learned archery, swordplay, and knife throwing from their mentors and made friends with the human and Pokemon performers alike.

The circus, however, was not all that it seemed. Jacques turned out to be a Team Rocket initiate. A fact that tore the brothers apart in disagreement over loyalty and where best to place it (and with who).

In the end, Barney followed Jacques. Becoming initiated into Team Rocket and slowly beginning his climb through the ranks. A brawler, improviser, and decent con man, Barney became a racketeer for a minor group and for awhile lived relatively happily.

Unfortunately, the assignments Barney was given became more and more dangerous. Dealing with far stranger aspects of the Pokemon world; including a sudden interest in information on Legendaries and something even more shadowy: Ultra Beasts...

As Barney rose through the ranks, he did indeed become a Pokemon trainer (of sorts), boasting an impressive team of a Houndour, a Sneasel, a Zoroark, a Salandit, a Murkrow, and a Sandslash. Yet as his own prowess grew, Barney began to realize just how little Team Rocket cared for the well being of people and Pokemon alike. Power, after all, did not care for the lives standing in the way. And as Barney watched town after town hurt, he realized just how his own contributions only added to the suffering.

One night, a top secret mission came through: a guard position for an excavation in a small, slightly populated, area of Alola’s Akala Island. Visiting Alola had ALWAYS been a dream of Barney’s, and though disillusioned with Team Rocket he took the job in part to finally get to go to his dream location. Upon arriving, however, Barney realized quickly just what kind of chaos Team Rocket was about to unleash and attempted to warn the local police.

Unfortunately, he was too late.

The excavation opened a portal through which several Nihilego came through. The result was chaos, destruction, and death. Try as he might, Barney could not save his teammates or the first responders or the Pokemon who tried so desperately to stop the attacks.

Tragedy struck deep. During the battle, Barney found himself merged with a Nihilego. He was freed by three of his own Pokemon, at the cost of their lives. Two more from Barney’s team died ensuring he reached safety.

Poisoned and scarred physically as well as psychologically, Barney only evaded arrest by the fact that the damage and death were so bad no one even knew he was alive. Left with only his faithful Houndour, Barney crawled away with a severe case of survivor’s guilt, PTSD, and a toxin that left him with bouts of weakness and a sensitivity to cold.

(Upon his connection to the Nihilego being ended, Barney died for four minutes. Barney knows he died, and remembers so constantly in his dreams.)

Currently, Barney drifts from town to town. (Can be in any region!) Working odd jobs to get by and trying to find direction in his life once more. Gruff and taciturn around people, Barney tends to isolate himself often and is still learning how to live a normal life.

He also actively avoids Team Rocket, as he is the sole survivor of the excavation and would be wanted not only for answers on what happened but also wanted for the fact an artifact went missing from the site and is currently unaccounted for...

IMPORTANT NOTES

At the height of his Team Rocket career, Barney's team of Pokemon was drastically different than his current team! Despite his brash attitude and cocky tendencies, Barney’s team was as loyal to him as he was to them. All of his Pokemon were from rough situations, given a second chance with him and treated well up until their deaths.

Barney won’t talk much about his old team to anyone but his Houndour (now a Houndoom). Their deaths still hurt and have made him reluctant to trust himself with another full team of Pokemon again.

That said, Barney currently has one Pokemon partner - Jericho - and two tag-a-longs: Comfey and Shaymin.

Comfey (called Poppy or Pip) found Barney a few months after the incident with the Nihilegos. Suffering physically and mentally, and grateful for the flower chain Barney braided for her to replace the one broken by a careless tourist, Comfey provides Barney some measure of relief on his worst days. In return, Barney gives Comfey shelter, companionship, and an abundance of flower chains.

You will likely rarely see Comfey as she is EXTREMELY shy. Occasionally, she will rest on Barney’s head when others are not around, but most often she sleeps around Barney’s neck under his coat. She trills when she’s excited and absolutely adores bees.

Shaymin (called Mori) never particularly meant to join Barney. The two met when Barney stumbled upon the Pokemon in the road, suffering from an accident that would cause it lose its left front leg. Distrustful of humans after that, nevertheless Barney helped nurse Mori back to health and also helped release it back to its native home. A year later, Barney stumbled upon the Mori once more by pure accident. Seeing how Barney was barely doing better, Mori decided to tag along to protect the one who helped them so long ago.

Mori rides in a modified pocket on Barney’s coat. They are feisty, ready to jump into a fight (even when there isn’t one), and is bold nearly to the point of reckless. Opinionated, if Mori doesn’t like someone they will absolutely know so!

Houndoom (Jericho) is nearly as covered in scars as his owner and as such is often a bit intimidating to those who don’t know him. In reality, he’s very sweet and particularly gentle with other troubled souls. Extremely loyal and protective over Barney, Jericho was Barney’s first partner and is the only original member of his team left. As such, they share a very special bond and Jericho acts as Barney’s service Pokemon (and confidante). You will almost NEVER see Jericho in his pokeball except in the most dire of emergencies.

BONUS

BONUS: Jericho (Barney’s Houndoom) was rescued from a bad situation. Trained as a former attack dog, Jericho has since softened considerably. (Though Barney does still have a scar from where he was bit in the calf on their first meeting!)

EXTRA BONUS: Barney still knows numerous Team Rocket members and secrets. He takes great care not to be seen by Team Rocket, as he’s not anxious to inform them he is defecting, and will go to great lengths to avoid places he knows the team is active in.

EXTRA EXTRA BONUS: Barney would love, more than anything in the world, to visit the Alolan region once more without tragedy. Sun, sand, and surf are true loves of his and he likes to think, in another life, he would have settled there.

EXTRA EXTRA EXTRA BONUS: Barney is journeying to Lavender Town in order to burn incense and properly pay tribute to his Pokemon partners of past...

VERSE TAG

v: our courage will pull us through — ( Pokemon AU )

ADDITIONAL HEADCANON

#[ para : professional garbage provider 2k19 ]#[ haha another verse suckers! ]#[ though I have to add a few tags here ]#death tw #[ cause it's sad :( ]#v: our courage will pull us through — ( Pokemon AU )

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tartypatoos · 5 years ago

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Tang Shen Raised Turtles AU / The Kasaiko Family AU

tldr; this au features tang shen now known as shen kasaiko as she raises the tmnt while balancing life as a vigalante called “ the patronus “ and eventually “ the patronus and the patrons “ after the boys join her . splinter / yoshi is a police officer , miwa is emo , and the foot is a mafia level group of organized crime in the new york area .

TANG SHEN AND THE TURTLES

so i’ve been working on a side verse for my tang shen/moriko so i love the idea of my old shen verse having the wild child shen who fell for yoshi but this verse is a different spin on things . shen was a kid in a neighboring clan and found herself in a romeo and juliet situation , constantly sneaking out to the hamato clan and falling for the young and wild yoshi . she was not one to be tamed , but a dreamer . always wanting more than clan life and to start a family in the us where they could leave their lives behind along with clan rivalries and alliances . that was when she found herself pregnant with the child of yoshi but still in japan .

it didn’t take long for her family to find out and she was pushed out of her clan and hesitantly taken in by the hamatos . yoshi had agreed with her plan to leave the country and start a new life but was always reluctant every month was , next month , and every questioning led to “ another time “ . shen had grown tired of the waiting and found herself venting to saki , yoshis brother . she had no idea how hard he’d fallen for her till it was too late , her daughter was born and it became another excuse , she wasn’t “ old enough to travel “ . it had all run on too long in her eyes and after one too many vents she had started packing her things and saki was set on fixing things his way .

that night a fight broke out between brothers and shen realized what had happened . she threw herself into the crossfire and was impaled , and trapped in the rubble of the fire . by a yokai miracle the blades had missed her vitals and she fled the village , collapsing in the woods . awoken by a yokai in the shape of a scaled temptress who had kept her alive and tended to her wounds she was told there would be nothing left for her at the village . she didn’t want to belive it so she snuck in and was greeted by four graves , hers , her daughters , and the hamato brothers . she ran , it was all she could do . the clan had been unable to find their bodies in the rubble of the building that was now ash , and after a week of them all being missing they were forced to assume the worst . the yokai had kept shen from dying but allowed her to comatose for several days and hid her from the clan that had put her in the scenario .

fleeing to america she started a new life changing her name to shen kasaiko and trying to introduce herself to western civilization and find her place . it didn’t take her long to find work as a strong independent woman who didn’t give up . her first jobs were in construction , metalworking and woodworking . she was looked down upon by many for her brash and stubborn adittude , she was learning quickly that new york was almost as bad as clan life . her destiny was set in stone one night when walking home alone and witnessing a woman being held at gunpoint in a back alley .

she interjected and ended up with a bullet wound in her side , by yokai intervention she was lucky once more and survived . during her recovery she lost her job at the local construction site but was put on a break by her more hobbyistic jobs at the local forge and depot . she had been working so much to avoid grieving and now house bound was more lonely and sad than ever . that was when she defied doctor orders and paid a visit to the local pet store . when she got there she discovered five turtles of different types and sizes , thy were each the last left behind of their clutches and to big to be sellable to any local kids they’d be thrown out soon . and despite knowing nothing about turtles let alone different species of them she made an impulse buy despite the fact she was a large fan of the axolotls in the store , and decided to bring all five of the turtles home in the undersized tank they probably shouldn’t have been sharing at the time .

on her way home she had a run in with a group of men who looked more like cia clones than locals and ended up covered in some sort of toxic looking slime . it burnt her skin and left her screaming in pain . she managed to hide behind a dumpster with the ten gallon tank held to her chest . after a few hours she woke up still there , luckily unfound . at this point her personal angel or more accurately described the yokai who had fallen smitten with her had stuck her neck out again despite shen growing angrier and angrier with her sudden appearances , one last reminder of her old life . a reminer that she resented despite its helpfulness .

making her way home she put the tank on the mantle at her flat and fell asleep again , the next morning she woke up to find an empty tank . and five child like turtles surrounding her , feeling as if she’d woken in a fever dream she just laid there slowly realizing her gunshot wound was gone and her skin was vaguely brighter , brushing it off she got up and made herself breakfast . afterwards she came back to her room and after stubbing her toe she was certain it wasn’t a dream . but there she was a single woman with five turtle children . five yokai maybe ? she wasn’t sure but she had a feeling her life would only get weirder , so after setting up the tub she moved them to the bathroom and began her journey in raising them .

she used the time she should have been bedridden to baby proof her house and find a job as a local self defense coach , teaching other women to defend themselves and eventually how to wield and protect . seeing victim after victim walk through her doors as she juggled her job , hobbies , and trying to find out what her turtles were she figured someone should do something about new york , and if the nypd wouldn’t she would . she adopted a secon alias , the patronus . defending those who the nypd wouldn’t defend she took on the vigilante title becoming a wanted criminal , but never a bad guy .

over time she raised the turtles to eventually join her in her pursuits and defend those who had no voice . however before she could raise them she had to name them , giving each a signature color and the only reminder of her past life she wanted . she named them after her fallen yoshi’s favorite artists and sculpture . she would be there for them and she wouldn’t lose anyone again . they were raphael , donatello , michaelangelo , leonardo , and venus demilo of the kasaiko family .

SAKI AND THE FOOT

saki had not died as his clan , brother , and shen believed . after his loss he fled to the place the object of his affection dreamed of , new york . he would start his own clan there and make his own legacy . after an afair with a russian circus performer he was left with a daughter of his own , pimiko . she was his closest possession and weapon , he would raise her to be better , better than yoshi and his clan however , to bake a cake some eggs must be broken , and if he wanted her to be indestructible he’d have to subject her to the kraangs knife , giving them the test subject they desired . a child whose dna was unstable and allowed her to painfully refert after every mutation , giving her the option to fuse with others via mutation and heal herself but only at the risk of her sanity . the foot never noticed the patronus till later years when the turtles were raised and she had a small masked army , starting a rivalry that would tear their families apart .

YOSHI AND MIWA

yoshi had fled with miwa forced to leave his wife so their daughter would survive . after traveling to new york he found himself a single father in a fast paced world . he spent his first few years working at a dojo that failed financially and somewhat broke his heart with it . that was when he saw the nypd was hiring . as he threw himself into cop work him and his daughter grew farther apart resulting in her turning to the internet and getting involved in goth , scene , and alternative crowds . taking up tagging as a hobby and constantly getting in trouble only leading her father to worry more and more , dealing with his emotions the only way he knew how , by throwing himself into his work . that was when he was put on the partronus’s case and was set on delivering justice . he was thrown a hard ball when he discovered his own daughter was a patronus fan driving a further wedge in their relationship , especially since now he’d uncovered a crime ring bigger than the force , one it seemed no one wanted him to find , the foot .

#// .& char tag / kasaiko / tang shen ! daughter of flames bringer of pain . //#// .& musing | kasaiko ! tang shen //#// .& aes | kasaiko ! tang shen //#// .& visage | kasaiko ! tang shen //#// .& char tag // karai ! sister from the other side //#// .& char tag // splinter ! a father . a brother . loved by another . //#// .& char tag // shredder ! misleader . star reaper //#// .& maoyin ! tracking #// .& visage | maoyin //#// .& visage | tang shen ! moriko //#// .& visage | splinter #// .& char tag // leo ! teachers pet and better yet //#// .& char tag // donnie ! coffee craving cataclysm //#// .& donnie ! tracking #// .& char tag // raph ! misunderstood chaotic good //#// .& char tag // mikey ! underestimated overachiever //#// .& char tag // michael ! screaming underwater is like screaming in space . no one’s coming . //#//#.& v | ts : 003 kasaiko / tang shen //#// .& art #// .& my art #tmnt #TMNT 2012 #tmnt rp #teenage mutant ninja turtles rp #// .& venus | venusdcmilo

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dregstrash · 6 years ago

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Fever Dreams and Shadow Games

A/N: Ahh!!! Chapter 5 of this amazing collab with @wafflesandkruge. We’re getting close to the end and both me and wafflesandkruge want to write the best chapters we can, but life is getting in the way so we’re going to be posting every two weeks from now. Thank you for sticking with this story and for showing it all the love and support!!!

AO3

Tagging: @aditiiparasharr @strummoner @itsbrilliantjustlikeyou @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius @shadowbusiness @privateerrezni @roonill--wazlib @the-jennster @the-regal-warrior @kazual-crow @ipizzippy @inkpot-dreamer @bookwormsincebirth @hollyblue2171 @ysitsohardtofindaname @fluffy-hedwig

Previous Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 ||

CHAPTER 5: Dinners with Jesters

The crowd was collectively holding its breath. Even Nikolai felt his grip on the seat tighten as Kaz moved towards the grand finale of his act. The heavy material that lay flat on the surface couldn’t have been hiding a trap door. Nikolai knew the layout of the grounds where the Cirque de Lie was set up. There’s nothing but hard packed dirt, and yet with a flourish and a spark, Kaz twisted the heavy material and out appeared three large boxes decorated in the circus’ colors. With dramatic flair that could rival a film star’s, he kicked open the boxes to reveal that they were weighed down with heavy lead pipes, a fact that made his feat all the more impressive.

The people roared and Nikolai joined them. He would have to ask Brekker how he did that. That is, if he chose to tell him the truth.

“You’re acting like a child,” Zoya said as she got up from her seat and smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress.

“You mean I’m properly appreciating magic,” he corrected, brushing off popcorn kernels from his suit.

“You mean tricks?” she countered.

Nikolai opened his mouth to counter her point when Wylan reappeared at the entrance.

“If the gentlemen and the lady would follow me,” he asked formally. “Mr. Rollins, will Alby be joining us?”

“I suppose not,” Rollins sniffed, “He seems to have disappeared.”

“I’m sure he’ll turn up, sir,” Wylan responded stiffly, his brassy accent stark against Rollins’s polished one.

Nikolai and Zoya were the last ones to exit the closed off section. Vasily and Rollins followed Wylan closely, but Kirgin fell back to walk beside them.

“Truly spectacular show tonight, don’t you think?” he asked, clapping Nikolai’s back good-naturedly. If he was any other man, the behavior would have been suspicious. But Kirgin had always been a simple man with a penchant for debauchery and any sort of title that would make him seem a little more honorable. Up until this election, he was a dear friend of Nikolai’s.

“It was indeed,” Nikolai responded absentmindedly. He watched as Vasily bent down to whisper something in Rollins’s ear.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that particular acrobatic routine done before and I was just at last night’s show!” Kirigin continued, not seeming to notice Nikolai’s inattention.

“You go to the circus often, Kirgin?” Nikolai asked, surprised.

At this the other man gained a bit of a flush and side-eyed Zoya before leaning in towards Nikolai conspiratorially. “I find the circus’ company a bit more….flavorful than regular women….”

Nikolai forced a smile. “No need to say anymore.”

“And when your brother invited me for another night I could hardly resist,” he said at a normal level.

“Why did he invite you along?” Zoya asked, wedging her way into the conversation.

Kirgin’s face brightened even more. “I haven’t the faintest, Miss Zoya. Something about smoothing over relationships and good shows of faith.”

While he was busy staring at Zoya, her eyes caught Nikolai’s and they held each other’s gaze in an unspoken question.

If Vasily brought Kirgin along to show the people that there was no bad blood between them then that couldn’t have been a coincidence. Either Vasily was overconfident and bringing Kirgin was merely part of him flaunting the fact victory was almost his. Or his brother knew something he didn’t.

“Welcome, welcome!” A woman’s cheery voice greeted them at the entrance of a large circus tent and Nikolai forced his mind into the present.

Nina Zenik had changed out of her performance clothes and in its place she wore a low-cut red dress that clung to her in all the right places. The glitter that made her sparkle under the firelight during her act was still lightly dusted onto her face and shoulders, casting her skin in a beautiful glow. She made eye contact with each of the guests, but let her startling green eyes linger obviously on Rollins.

“We hope the gentlemen and lady enjoyed tonight’s show,” Nina purred as she and Wylan helped get them seated around the large wooden table ladened with different foods and drink, “And we hope that tonight’s supper can measure equally.”

Nikolai was seated to the left of the head of the table with Zoya to his right and an empty seat directly in front of him. Next to Zoya was Nina who was giving her utmost attention to Rollins. Vasily was across from him sitting directly next to Matthias—who looked like he was ready to snap his plate in half with every giggle out of Nina’s mouth. Kirgin was placed next to Jesper closer to the end of the table and, from what Nikolai could see, the pair were already chatting away.

As the company sat, waiting for their illustrious host to make an appearance, Nikolai couldn’t help but marvel at the strategy of their placements. With Rollins and Vasily far enough from the head of the table and properly engaged with the rest of the circus cast, whatever conversation Nikolai and Zoya night have would be protected.

“Hope you enjoy the food,” a dark voice said suddenly. Kaz emerged from another entrance of the tent. He wasn’t wearing his dark red coat when he came and sat by Nikolai. He was dressed more in the fashion of respectable gentlemen with a dark coat and a simple vest. His gloves were still on.

“It’s a bit rude to keep your guests waiting, is it not Mr. Brekker?” Vasily asked, looking down his nose as Kaz leaned back in his seat.

“Unlike pretending to run your father’s business, running a circus is quite complicated, Mr. Lantsov. It must take up a bit more of one’s time when the show ends.”

Twin spots of red appeared on Vasily’s cheeks, but before he could spit out whatever retort was on his tongue, Kaz had already moved his attention to Rollins. And Nikolai was sure that he didn’t make up the darkness that flickered over the depths of Kaz’s eyes. While he looked at Vasily like he was a child to be pushed away, he looked at Rollins like a cat playing with a mouse.

“I hope you find the food to your satisfaction, Mr. Rollins,” he said. To his credit, his voice didn’t betray an ounce of the malevolence his eyes held.

The man tore his attention away from Nina to give Kaz a patronizing smile.

“I’m sure it’s of a fine enough quality for common people.”

Nikolai felt Zoya stiffen beside him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked calmly, which was never a good sign. Nikolai had had to apologize to enough people who’d suffered Zoya’s wrath to know.

“Let’s not pretend that the circus business is so ludicrous that it would have the finest of foods.” Rollins smiled as if that made it better.

“Not everyone has a taste for richer foods,” Nikolai said. He painfully remembered the days after he got home for the war. His parents had thrown him a luxurious party. All of his schoolmates were there, drinking to his survival and to their victory. And as far as the eye could see were cakes and meats drenched in rich sauces and dips.

He could clearly remember himself painfully smiling through the crowd while pretending that every loud noise or every bang of a chair didn’t make him tense-- always waiting for the next gunshot or attack. Then someone had pressed a plate of food into his hands and he’d had no choice other than to take at least a nibble to be polite. Years of eating hard bread and watered down soup had made his tongue a hard and unrelenting thing that only ate to live. His mouth was not prepared for the assault of the spices or the density of the food.

It was a miracle that he had excused himself gracefully enough to throw up in the bathroom where a soft knock had interrupted his retching.

“It’ll get better,” Zoya had said quietly, slipping into the bathroom. Nikolai had been too sick to even tease her about what other people might say if they had seen her. She had placed a wet towel against the back of his neck, cooling the burning there. “The first time my aunt had tea, I could barely keep my eyes from watering when I ate the cake she ordered.”

“I hate them,” Nikolai had grumbled, his head pressed against the edge of the sink. “I hate that they eat and drink as if it were easy. As if there is always going to be food. Dominik--”

“Wouldn’t want you sulking,” Zoya had said crouching down to where he was. Her dress had been silver and it wrinkled as she knelt beside him. She had forced him to turn his head to look at her and he steadied his racing heart in the blue of her eyes. “Forget about them-- You don’t have to be who they want you to be anymore.”

He had barked out a laugh. “Of course, I do. Which of us has been lying to their aunt that they’re looking for a husband amongst that lot?”

Zoya rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. You were almost blown out of the sky, Nikolai.” He winced as a memory of fire and thunder flashed in his mind. “You should have died, but you didn’t.” She was holding his face now. “And that means everything after I picked you out of the sky is extra. Every heartbeat, every moment you have right now is extra life and that means you can do whatever the fuck you want with it.”

Nikolai remembered those words so vehemently. He remembered the moment they fully sunk in and took root in his mind. The small seed grew into a tree of possibilities and had given Nikolai enough strength to walk back out of that bathroom with a smile on his face and a determination that belonged to a renewed man.

A renewed man, but a man who never forgot the pains of the old life.

“Forgive my brother, Mr. Rollins,” Vasily interjected. “It seems his tastes have been much affected by the war.”

“What would you know about it?” Nikolai asked struggling to keep his voice in control. “I don’t remember you fighting in the trenches.”

“A gentleman never forgets his manners.”

“And an ass never seems to stop being one,” Zoya retorted, loudly enough that Jesper had to use a coughing fit to cover his laughter.

“Anyways,” Nina drawled, breaking the tension by pulling Rollins’s attention back to her. “May I interest you, Pekka, in a fortune reading? I don’t do it for free for just anyone you know? Kaz over there makes me charge normal guests two pence each fortune.”

“I don’t know, Miss Zenik,” he purred disgustingly as his hands wandered a bit too low on her back. “I’m really not one to believe in all that hocum.”

“Oh, just give it a try.” She winked at him as she pulled out a deck of tarot cards from her sleeve. “You never know, you may like it.”

Nikolai wanted to watch as Rollins finally gave in and Matthias looked like he wanted to lay him flat, but Kaz chose that moment to lean into his ear.

“Watch your back, and Nazyalensky’s too. Things might get a little get messy on your end, Rollins and your brother are planning something.”

“What?” Nikolai couldn’t help but let out a cough of surprise.

“Local gang is involved. That’s all we have for now. I’ll send a couple of my guys to trail you tonight.”

“I’m assuming your acrobat is on the hunting grounds,” Nikolai said gesturing to the empty seat in front of him.

“Inej is….out there. But don’t worry that pretty little head, Lantsov. We’ll try to get you out alive and on top.”

“Kaz Brekker, did you just call me pretty?”

The younger man smirked at him and leaned away, leaving Nikolai to turn this piece of news over in his mind. Vasily was willing to hurt him? He could expect some of that behavior from Rollins, but his own brother? Maybe a small part of Nikolai wanted to believe that despite all their differences, there could still be a way for Vasily to be the older brother that he used to admire. Looking at his smug face from across the table, he knew that he was being naive. Vasily was a selfish prick at birth, he didn’t stop being one in his adult life.

“Oh my dear, how wrong your little spirits are.” Rollins had somehow gotten even closer to Nina’s side, and brushed the hair at the back of her neck off her shoulder. “Are you sure you heard them correctly?”

“Why yes of course I heard them correctly.” Nina smiled as she brushed her hand across his chest. “The cards very clearly say that your closest friends are the esteemed Mister Buckley, Lord Cavenaw, and Mister Kantor.”

“No, no, no.” A knuckle on her cheek, a dangerous look in his eyes. It was a disgusting display that Nikolai was surprised Kaz allowed for one of his closer circus performers. “You wound me, my dear. I’ll have you know that I run with a finer circle of gentlemen, not the riffraff you described. Why, I just dined last night with Lord Chamberly, Lord Terrence, and Lord Christansen. Fine men that keep this city running.”

And keep you in office, Nikolai thought as he took a sip of his wine. Rollins had half the city’s politicians in his pocket. Keeping the rich where they were and leaving the poor to suffer and suffer. But his reign of terror was ending. With Kaz’s plan he could change everything. He just had to survive long enough to get elected.

--------------------------------------

Nina needed a hot, rose petal bath. She needed one this instant with a plate of chocolate dipped strawberries and a glass of champagne. It’s what she deserved after a long night of flirting with that awful man and his cheap cologne. But what she had instead was a half-empty bottle of vodka the kitchen staff saved for her.

She understood why bad men did terrible things, but why did they also have terrible taste in scents? Rollins’s disgusting musk clung to her clothes and despite her attempts to breathe through her mouth, nothing was helping.

Matthias was silent the whole way as he walked her back to her tent, and she almost wanted to tease him about having a lot of restraint tonight, but that also would make her remember the hot sweat of Rollins’s palm on her cheek. She swiped a sleeve across her cheekbone, trying to get rid of the phantom touch, but all that accomplished was wafting his scent right into her nose. She grimaced.

“Are you going to be alright?” Matthias stopped her at the entrance and placed both hands at the sides of her face.

“Of course, I am,” Nina scoffed, leaning into one of his palms. “And you shouldn’t worry so much. You sound like a fussing mother.”

“I know you hate those jobs,” he said instead bringing her closer, shifting his arms to wrap around her waist.

“You hate those jobs, Matthias. I just hate awful pigs who don’t know how to properly dress themselves.”

“Your insults are weak tonight.” He placed a kiss between her eyebrows.

“I can get nastier if you want me too, my love,” she said sleepily.

“You should rest. I will see you tomorrow.” He kissed her sweetly and let her go, and Nina couldn’t have loved him more. It had been a long road to get the sweet, soft-hearted boy hiding behind the large group of muscles to come out, and the wait had been worth it. Matthias knew when to give Nina space and when to love her gently. He knew what her favorite snacks were when she was upset or when she was happy. He was everything she deserved.

Nina watched Matthias turn out of view before starting to walk inside her tent, but not before she heard the sound of sniffles coming from inside.

“Inej?” Nina cried incredulously. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lamplight, and still she had to blink a couple of times before she could comprehend the sight sitting on her bed. Inej hadn’t changed from her dark leather and cotton and was hugging her knees to her chest as tears slid down her cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“Arjun left.” Inej said it so quietly that Nina was glad she had moved to sit on the bed beside her. “His cover is blown. My whole unit is gone. Everything fell apart.”

Nina knew that Inej had something to do with the Indian liberation. She never spoke much about it or gave her details, but Nina was Inej’s closest friend and she knew how much that work was worth to her. But it was more than that, Nina realized, because Inej was crying and with a little more silence Nina knew why.

“You didn’t go with him,” Nina said. Inej didn’t say anything. “I thought you’d always planned on going home.”

Inej didn’t confirm or deny Nina’s statement, but her tears came faster. Nina didn’t want to push. So instead she waited, which was never really one of her strong suits.

“I- I almost did,” she said shakily, “I went as far as the pub. Then I couldn’t. I looked back and I saw the tops of the circus tents and I thought of you and Wylan and Jesper and Matthias and--”

She cut off abruptly, but Nina understood.

“Kaz?” She wasn’t trying to finish her sentence. Nina had asked an all encompassing question that went beyond the list of people that had become part of this mismatched family that had somehow banded together.

Inej nodded.

Nina sighed.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you what a bad idea having feelings for Kaz Brekker are considering you’re one of the smartest people I know. But are you sure about this?”

“I- I don’t know Nina. It’s not just about Kaz.” Her voice hitched on his name, but she continued talking. “There’s so many of my people still trapped here. And I’m just supposed to give up because of one man? I’m just supposed to stop caring because someone decided that it wasn’t safe anymore?”

The tears stopped and with every word Inej’s voice got stronger.

“This is the last job, Nina,” she declared, finally taking a deep breath. “After this scheme with Lantsov, I’m-- I’m going to quit the circus.”

“What are you going to do?” Nina asked, already unscrewing the top of the vodka bottle.

“I want to do more for my people. I want them to stop living like second rate peasants just because of the color of their skin. I can do more. I know I can.”

“Oh you will,” Nina said, smiling and pouring her a drink in one of the glasses on her bedside table. “Because you’re Inej Ghafa the greatest acrobat and wraith to ever live. You can do anything you want.”

Inej finally smiled and took the glass.

“And Kaz?” Nina tried after taking a drink. The vodka left a pleasant burn in the back of her throat.

Inej’s smile dropped slightly. “I don’t want to talk about that-- at least for now-- Can we just drink and pretend we can do anything?”

Nina laughed and toasted Inej’s glass. “My dear, we don’t have to pretend at all.”

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thefinishpiece · 5 years ago

Text

Sick Of Sisters

There once were three sisters.

All spiteful of each other, despite being born together. All conniving and callous toward each other. Constantly scheming the demise of their least favorite sister—which changed seemingly every day, dependent upon chance and temper.

To them, the other was a cancer inflicted upon their life, wreaking the sort of disruptive trouble a cancer normally causes. Draining all the energy and health of the sisters, whom were caught in this atrophic web, incapable of escaping except through death or feigned tolerance. Relationship as existential prison.

This is where the morphine came in.

At first, it was pragmatic precedent. The eldest sister—Marilee—had hurt herself in a horrible home accident. She was curling her hair in to impossible strides in a venal attempt to seduce a car salesman into selling a car without insurance, when she slipped on the bathroom tile, clobbering her neck on the ridge of the toilet, knocking her collar-bone out of tune, and slopping the heated curler onto her belly.

Momentarily immobilized from her snapped stabilizer, she was unable to remove the curler for quite some time, until the youngest sister—Marin—discovered her writhing in agony on the floor, saving her from further damage with a swift swatting of the curler, maiming her own hand in the process. But not before the imprint of the curler was seared onto the stomach-flesh like a sloppy cattle-prod, spurts of blood peaking under crusted scab.

The Good Doctor— all doctors are good, are they not? —prescribed a profound amount of medication to ease Marilee’s pain, providing her a nightly nectar of morphine upon which two of the sisters are now addicted.

The first one to consider abusing the substance was the middle sister—Marlo—who had always been envious of her other two sisters, concealing her envy behind a curtain of false confidence and sensual swagger, often pretending she was “too cool” to be bothered by anything concerning her “mules of sisters”—even though she was prone to copying them at every turn, whether in fashion item or darling desire or turn-of-phrase, stealing from them every parcel of her identity. So it seemed only inevitable she eventually stole the medicative goo when no one was noticing, installing in in her veins like caustic wires, until she was dazed and dwindling in an oozing circus of her own.

The other sisters, to no avail, could never make fun of their middle sister for anything she did, because although she was an actress of appropriation, she had always been the most attractive and popular to the opposite sex—a trait of being that the eldest sister measured with worth, and that the youngest obsessed over only if to impress her fellow sisters and not be outcast by their inclinations of how a female should conduct herself and value her abilities. The ability to persuade male mates into misuse and mischief was a value most regarded in this home of three sisters, none of whom had ever been married.

So when Marlo, in her devil-may-care attitude, took to the morphine like mosquitos to electric maidens, Marilee soon followed, claiming her rightful spot as the original recipient of the tonic, complaining of increasingly discomforting pain to the Good Doctor, who continued to prescribe higher and higher dosages. And on a certain level, it appeared as though the Good Doctor himself had no real condolements for the sisters, as they could be bothersome in viscous sums, so he waivered practical dignity and supplemented them with joyful juice out of hope they would leave him alone—and possibly someday die.

What the Good Doctor failed to apply in his summation was the wickedness of Marilee and Marlo, which included their exasperating aptitude for withstanding tremendous levels of punishment. And so, the morphine binge marched on, much to concern of the innocent and confused Marin.

“You will never find a man,” Marilee was quoted as muttering frequently to her poor sister, “if you continue to act like a field mouse!”

Then Marilee would hawk something at Marin; some type of nearby object, anything from an empty beer can to a holiday ornament to a raggedy shoe—anything within reach. Marin never fought back, unfortunately, mitigating the aches and sores with the assurance that her sisters loved her, and that she, too, should always love her sisters. And could you blame her?

The maleficent mother of these three sisters died while Marin was only three months living, crushed to crumbs in an intoxicated crash of which she perpetuated, driving the wrong way on a road through the wrong intersection, at just the right time to be plowed by an oncoming supply-truck—which of all things good-timing, had its brakes sputter out in that exact moment. It was almost divine in its machination.

So, Marin was raised by Marilee and Marlo, who never appreciated having another sister— one younger and infinitely more adorable in infancy than they ever were. And they detested being imposed upon by the chore of nurturing her from nakedness to nuisance.

Their father, a gambler with a penchant for gore, would stop by on occasion to check-in, bringing fortunes and gifts for his girls, staying for about a week or so, then slipping away back to his precious casinos. Marin enjoyed these visits the most—the other sisters couldn’t be bothered to display any sort of affection or gratitude—and as such, she received the grandest gifts, becoming her father’s favorite, vexing her sisters to tease and taunt and torment her after father left.

Marin accepted it, however, because they were the only family she knew, and they’d habitually remind her of that terrible fact whenever she made a mistake. Whether it was metal in the microwave or buying the wrong flavor soda-pop from the convenience store; plucking weeds not deep enough, or not cooking their meals to meet “standards and decency”. And even though the sisters poured all means of errands and petty tasks on her, Marin, from the moment she could walk, did all of them with a grace unfounded in children, and a starvation of sense in understanding how her sisters could treat her this way yet still love her.

They reminded her, with clops on the head every so often, while she was on her knees scrubbing gunk from the kitchen tiles or washing the aerial defecation from on top the roof in boiling sunshine, nipping the side of her ear with their counterfeit nails, spewing some nonsense like, “Remember how much we loved you? We took care of you when no one else would! And this is how you repay us? By missing spots? To hell with you, mouse!”

Another nip. She didn’t like being called “mouse”, so she worked harder and holier each time. Until her tiny paws were quivering from fatigue.

By the time Marin was eleven years, her ears were adorned with porous marks, leftover scars from every time she had missed a spot or performed inadequately. Which in hindsight was all the time without any discretion, seemingly at the whims of her sisters, who spent leisure fantasizing about suitors and sulfurous insults, nicking her as they passed in meditative waltz.

Marin kept on cleaning and cooking for her sisters, dreaming someday they’d reward her by showing her how to grow her nails long and cruel, with all the shades of a rainbow; or maybe how to puff up her lips and brows with cosmetic witchery, making herself look like a famous face, finally free to attract the whole world to her porch. She’d be just like them. But this dream never came true.

And now she was twenty-two years, never spoke to a man let alone been with one, never worn makeup or dresses, never been outside her home except on trips for groceries, most of her experiences and memories from the visible pane of floor and corner, a sponge in her hand, her life soaked in suds and sorrys, spurned by her sisters.

The three of them shoulder to shoulder in spite.

“Marin! The heat! Open a damn window!” Marilee hollered.

Marin sighed. It was snowing outside. But she did as she was commanded, for fear of reprisal from her overlord, pushing glass aside so flurried air could shoot its frosty venom in.

Marin shivered, ice-flecked fangs nearly cutting the freckles from her face. Luckily, she avoided this loss—she was the only sister with freckles, a special trait the others disdained. Marlo even went so far as to pencil-in artificial freckles of her own, acting as if they were contagious.

“Marin! The cold! Close the damn window!” Marilee shouted.

Marin sighed. She gripped the bandages on her right hand, trembling in overuse. The Good Doctor explained very clearly that Marin should evade any sign of pressure or purpose on her bad hand, for worry of straining the wounded areas apart. It burned in fizzy agony whenever she went against the Good Doctor’s orders, straight to the marrow, but nobody else was going to do her chores and keep this home from shambling.

Marin was most disappointed by the notion she would no longer be capable of clutching a knife, which she kept burrowed in her tomato garden. She found it in a dumpster she had been rummaging through after Marlo “accidentally” tossed Marin’s stuffed-moose—Marley—a gift from their late father that Marin had sanctified in her youth. Her incapacity for stabbing foiled her plan temporarily, upsetting her. The upset was worse than any physical ailment could be.

After finishing the recent demands of Marilee’s mood, Marin shrouded herself in a tattered-fleece and sallow-scarf, the freckles on her face dissipating in pallor complexion. In careful tact, she maneuvered gloves onto her paws, a mission made simpler by the many holes and frays. Her sisters updated their wardrobes every season, discarding previous incarnations to the garbage in disgust, lest worn clothing despoil their entire soul of spirit.

Marin meanwhile had the same set of garments that had lasted her for a decade, and being that she was petite and pure, she never much grew out-of-focus for these childish threads to fit her. Though they had scars of their own, Marin never protested. She was grateful to have anything at all.

Outside, away from the clatter and carrion, Marin wept.

There had been an awful, wintry storm going on for quite some time, encasing everything in a crypt of ice and frost. A haze had turned black and green and orange, waste and trash fusing with dead air, puncturing the adjacent woods, and the gutted entrance across the lot, where Marin often had to pass through to walk the road to the convenience store, which sold almost everything they ever needed except for companionship and morphine.

What a trial it was to do, carrying plastic bags brimming in useless toiletries and rotting fruits, through hail and heat and gusts. Marin’s arms felt disjointed from their slots every time she had to walk the groceries back, and it was too many times where the plastic containers stretched beyond belief and ripped open, tumbling its treasures to the ground and forcing Marin to make-do with whatever she happened to have on her.

Once, under spears of sleet, Marin had to remove her coat and wrap it up like a bucket, placing all her groceries in it and dragging them the remainder of the way home, flogged by freezing air the whole way. Because if she hadn’t, her sisters would have scolded her. They would have slashed her. Flicked her face and ears with those carved-claws of theirs, slicing her skin, leaving behind traces of whatever hue they were wearing that week, from furious fuchsia to jolly jade. “You stupid mouse! How could you forget everything? We sent you out there—it isn’t even that far!”

Their voices punctuated her every thought. Marin did nothing of her own volition. Every move and mile were made only in regard to how her sisters may react. And she was sick of it. Sick of them. Sick of herself for letting them sicken her. Sick of everything.

Marin grumbled, her stomach jangling in pain. As a child, she was always having spells of random nausea. It’s why her father only ever took her somewhere on a few occasions—her favorite place being the museum, where she awed at dinosaur frames and star-maps and mummified pharaohs, absolutely adoring these relics of time. The dinosaurs were her favored exhibit, inspiring such wonder in her to see these prehistoric titans, once rulers of the same ground she now walked on, still standing resilient, even if they were now nothing but bones. She wondered if after she was gone, if anybody would hang her bones up and be awestruck by this mouse that once existed and still does.

Of course, she vomited on the way there. And on the way back. But her father insisted she survive the trip. He explained to her that the world was a wonderful place, endless in its miracles, ceaseless in its reverent history. It was his duty to at least show her its wonders—if only for one time—so that she would have these murmurs of imagination to leech off for the duration of her life. Because, in his heart of hearts, he knew his time was nearing an end. And he knew the malice of his own daughters. But Marin was supposed to be different.

And here she was, hiding outside in the snow, shivering and shamed and soured.

Her tears were a gas in the frigid afternoon. And her memories were a bullet to her brain, shooting through her entire body in prickly misery.

Marin stepped close to the edge of their lot, looking back at their trailer-home, covered in grime, practically glowing in the darkness; then stared longingly into the woods, as far as permitted by the storm, through naked trees and pined ones, standing in diametric dalliance, stripped of their color but standing the same way they always stand, unmoved by any force. She watched for signs of life. Sometimes she’d see a fox wandering through. Maybe a deer, if it had been quiet. And yes, even mice, scuttling from root to root, swifter than she could ever be.

She didn’t feel like a mouse. She had never understood why her sisters referred to her as one.

Marin examined her paws, shaking in the cold. Half of her fingers were bent, joints bristling away. Her nails were fractured, chipped in at random junctions, dirt and gunk rolled in them as if rolled in blankets, sleeping. The filth seemed comfortable there. Her right hand was stitched in bandages, spotted and soiled; their ends taped on after falling apart.

But Marilee was given new wrappings every day, and Marin had to traverse to the convenience store and back to bring her sister clean and sterile padding. But she herself wore the same saggy rags, every day.

Her paws were not nimble; they shuddered. Her paws were not swift; they lagged in lethargic weakness. She had freckles instead of whiskers. A bony-butt instead of a tail. She had no fur but skinny strands of hair, not even layering her whole body, which was brittle and bare anyway. Her teeth were crooked and putrefied, preventing her from biting most foods, which was just as well since all her sisters ever fed her was soup and mush. When they gave her the list for groceries, it was only ever enough for two. And the money was only ever enough for what was on the list.

Marilee, as much of a scoundrel as she was, always cooped up in the house, always irritated, seething at Marlo for always being out on dates and dinners, living the life of lies she once lived, when she was younger and prettier and her crabbiness was manageable and somewhat buttery—even in all her sullen squalor, Marilee had a precise mind, a tactical thinking, and it served her well in doling out only the bare minimum necessary tasks and necessary payment for Marin to deal with. Only the necessary amount for two sisters instead of three.

But there were three of them.

All harboring in that shackled abode of theirs. Passing seasons in continuous strife. Bickering—they loved bickering.

Marilee and Marlo engaged in contests of yelping and critical strikes almost daily. Marilee thought it disrespectful Marlo was always stealing—"borrowing”—her dresses, jewelry, makeup. Marlo thought it distasteful that such pleasant garments and ornaments should go to waste on such a petty, poisonous tree as her sister. And then there was Marin, meshed in the barbs between them, agent to them both, bandaging the wounds of their relationship while mitigating the worst injuries.

Because no matter how fiery Marilee and Marlo became toward each other, the consequent combustion always seemed to have a way of spilling over unto Marin, until finally Marilee and Marlo were both quite certain it was Marin whom they had been fighting against all along.

But outside, in the lonesome cold, the musty frigidness of a world decaying in tune, nobody blamed Marin for anything. Nobody could claim she did a poor job or that she lacked courage or that she was nothing but a squabbling mouse scrambling for crumbs. Out here, she was as uninteresting and unnoticed as a branch. Just another limb on the body of nature. It was calming, meditative. Marin took time with her breathing out here, inhaling so deep through her nose and mouth sometimes she would accidentally snort or hiccup.

So, she clung there, wading around the mounds of trash and piles of discarded vehicle gears. When suddenly, something scraped against her nostrils. A hideous smell—caustic and mushy. Marin winced, forming a shield around her nose with her little paws, trying to replace this odorous odor with one of her own flayed skin. Underneath the bandages, even under the scabs, her sores still danced with the pungent aroma of old blood and burnt skin. Anything was superior to this other scent, however—one of revolting ruin, of putrid pall.

Marin peered from one corner of the clearing to the other, when she realized the origin of the smell. Despite the ugliness of it, she sucked up personal disgust and peeled only two slight fingers apart into a slit, sniffing the source of the smell, following its rotting chain to its forsaken soul.

Over by the edge of the makeshift lawn, there was a metal bin, meant for industrial junk, but which the sisters had become accustomed to dumping all manner of trash in, especially liquor bottles and lipstick containers and ointment rags and leftover food they had let rot over for too long, either forgetting to eat it or just refusing to bother with them. Instead of sharing with Marin—as was typical—they would dump it in the barrel and send her to the convenience store to pick up more for supper. “Why are you begging for this filth? Huh. Just like a mouse, all you ever want to eat are scraps!”

When Marin was younger and weaker, she had a habit of sneaking out late at night, to fish out remains, picking at the parts still edible and least likely to sicken her. But what was there now seemed too sickening.

Approaching the tin bin, Marin was cautious not to let slip her mask of fingers, for fear she might suffocate from the smog. Her eyes began to sweat. If only she had more paws—a normal mouse has four.

Marin, with the wariness of a spider snatching eggs from a bird nest, leaned over and looked in. Abomination.

On the bottom rung, a smoldering cluster of shredded flesh and coiling bone, rusted, ravaged. The cavity of its chest hollowed-out, the bite-marks of fanged feasters and mauling maggots, halted halfway, as if the hoary night had frozen their procession in place. Its surrounding body remained in remains, skin shrunken so as to appear sinking between bones, its fur whittled away, spoiling in some spots and moldy in others, drained to a gross paleness, almost grayish-green, like swamp-muck turned to stone.

Marin could recognize it had been an animal at some point, observing its four legs now bent inward, wilting. And it had a tail, which was now a patched effort, skinny and sallow, craters of flies and worms still reminiscent on it.

Then she examined its head, whose covering had shriveled so much, it was more like a pastel skull, cheekbones and maw-ridges and sunken sockets, fleeced by a thin-layer of skin so emaciated and tarnished, it was impossible to imagine it had ever been a face.

To Marin, it reminded her of the skeletal mannequins she once admired at the museum. Unable to determine what kind of animal it was, she thought maybe it was a dinosaur. A long-lost primal beast, reduced to worthless size by time and commotion, the world a mess of monkeys and mice, vying for the same room. This was something that belonged in a museum.

Marin was so mesmerized, she removed her hand, and for a splitting moment the smell ceased to be smelt. She was entranced by this faded form, which had withered to its internal frame while still wearing the cloak of its dermal costume, like a ghost clinging to its corpse, even though the soul was now detached from the body and there was no coming back—no reattaching. She looked down at her own fleece, which she had outgrown, which was battered by tears and frays and splotches of obliterated dye. Then she gazed at her hands, beneath the gauze and speckled sound, how close her bones had come to the surface, her joints and appendages now more visible than her actual skin. And this haunted her—her own form fading.

Marin nearly disintegrated into the snowy ground, this disparaging despair causing a dissolution of herself. She cramped over, her stomach bubbling, sitting in the snow among trash and ash and mud. But she had no concerns about being damp or dirty or cold. She stared, at no particular direction or object—just staring because she wasn’t sure what else to do with her eyes. But she couldn’t close them; they were swollen from the sting.

Her fingers trembled, as they were prone to doing, but this time it was different—this time it was a body-quake, shaking and cracking her open. Marin huddled in the snow-stained dirt, her spirit in shambles. The little mouse had tripped herself.

She burped. Gases were mingling deep inside her. A nervous existentialism swirling in her stomach. And a sickening radiance overtook her—some hideous light, rays convulsing deep within her.

She expelled everything.

It spouted out from her mouth, thickening through her body as if a tree was sprouting from her intestines to her nose, filling her with heavy boughs, replacing veins with branches. She couldn’t breathe. And straight onto snowy surface, a splattering flurry of pungent-chunks and noxious-slime—a mess of eaten nature rebounded to its breeze.

Marin kneeled over her bodily puddle, writhing in strangely warm numbness. She finished, heaving every last drop of poison from inside her, her chest frozen in aching shock, barely able to find her first breath before gulping it down and choking on it again, broken on all-fours in remarkable ruin. Only moments after it was all done, did Marin lean over, panting; all the pain and displeasure expunged from her, feeling somewhat normal again, as if nothing had happened, just slivers of it in the way every breath still seemed desperate.

Marin recovered from her shock, as if it didn’t even happen, in the same way the earth pretends it wasn’t once swarming in terrible lizards and giant sharks. As if fossils were manufactured in a factory somewhere, for the sole purpose of populating museums to entertain people who take for granted how short their time on this planet really is. And Marin considered this thought, luring herself into the dark depths of doubt.

But she stopped, rescuing herself from further discourse, assuring herself there were most certainly dinosaurs roaming the earth, and most certain of all that things deceased are not simply forgotten. Because at the nougat of Marin’s anxiety was worry that she herself would be forgotten. Even after all the struggle and pain she wallowed through, thinking eventually some culmination of compensation would present itself, that to think everything in her past was actually fleeting and futile, that it was not in fact a crescendo but rather a flat-note existence—this most of all frightened her. The broken never being repaired. The servant never being rewarded.

The mouse never being given its cheese.

“Marin! Marin, where you are? Where have you gone little mouse?” Marilee shouted.

Marin perked up. Her sister came dashing out of the house, leaping from the porch barefoot, unchained from coldness. Her face was pallid and dripping, bland saliva painted onto her chin, eyes stretched by tentacles of blood, nostrils peeling snot-icicles at whim. She looked like a moving statue, tense and torpid. How she always looks these days.

But Marin limbered up. Something was different.

“Marin, call the Good Doctor. I don’t feel right—goddammit, I don’t feel right at all!” She shrilly muttered.

Yet, she was still caked in cosmetic frosting, appearing like a decorative tree whose branches and bark are spoiled and rotten behind a façade of kitchen-kitsch ornaments. Marlo often referred to her as a clown, runaway from the circus. This is how most of their arguments began.

“Listen you rodent, I—” Her scaly claws dug into Marin’s arms, pinching her already frail skin to the limit of perforation. Marin winced. Her sister’s eyes swallowed behind their icky ink, suddenly buried in a moldy-white. Then she collapsed to the ground.

Marin gasped, scurrying to the aid of her sister. Black-brine leaked from her lips, with a fuming foam seeping from her nostrils, her body so depleted of normal nutrients, which had been eroded away in her all-morphine diet, any fluid dripping from her lacked blood or color. She was bleeding residual leftovers. Her eyes were dead and drained.

Marin whimpered, a sea of veiled blood swarming around her freckles. She wasn’t sure what to do.

“Sister? Sister? Should I call…?” Marin whimpered, half-legible as her throat swelled and heart stampeded. As she held her sister, something peculiar happened. Marilee’s mouth curved into a serpent grin, and through her last gull of breath, she mumbled to Marin, “Don’t you worry, sister. We’re finally done.”

Marilee chuckled like a goblin, her fangs shimmering in the holiday stream, a rainbow of dim reds and greens and yellows and blues.

“Sister. Sorry. I love you.” Marin assured her that she loved her sister, not just because she was her sister, but because she was compassionate and caring and concerned.

And dead.

Marin remained there, shuddering in solemn scum. No heartbeat. Marin wept for her fallen sister; a piece of genetic memorabilia wiped from the scrapbook of living. The feeling of a corpse—it hurt Marin more than any punishment or wound she ever endured. She staggered up again, dragging Marilee’s body back into their house. Then Marin sunk onto the floor, fatigued by fate, by fear, by finality.

All Marin could think about is what her sister’s skeleton would be like displayed in an exhibit. What would they call her? The Serpent? Marin refuted this conception. Her sister did not have the cunning of a snake, even if she thought so. No, if they were to put Marilee on display, it would be as a vulture—a vulture chasing a mouse.

Dreary lights pierced through the shadowed room. Marlo had arrived home, presumably dropped by whatever new beau she had been entertaining for the night. Marin panicked. How could she explain such a fantastical occurrence?

Not that she had done anything wrong, but, well, Marin had a habit of being the subject of trouble and always assumed to have done the wrong thing when anything else would have sufficed. Maybe that was just the opinion of her sisters. Marin didn’t think about that now, however. Her blood and flesh had just left life in her own paws. The worthless mouse couldn’t salvage anything.

Marlo entered, swooning over her date. A spinster no more, perhaps? So, what a sight it was to see Marin huddled on the floor, quivering like a scared child, Marilee’s body flung across the room, limbs jaggedly sprawled and bitterly dark froth collecting around her head. Marlo screamed.

“What…? What did you do? Marin!” Marlo shrieked her sister’s name. Marin flinched. “What the hell did you do?!”

Marin, sniveling, couldn’t say a thing, rendered a mute by a flood of panic. Marlo rushed to her, her pincers clamping on Marin’s left ear, to which she finally found sound and released a tremendous whine.

“Please, please, please, it hurts!” Marin pleaded. Marlo hung Marin to her feet, a faint murmur of blood whistling across her nail and down her finger.

“What happened here, little mouse? Tell me the truth or God help me!” Marlo commanded.

Marin winced, her ear a trapeze of pain. She couldn’t explain—she herself didn’t even know what happened. Marlo’s patience burned to its final wick, however, and she shoved Marin down on the couch, a violent glare, then she examined Marilee’s body.

After, she sighed. And Marlo took a seat beside Marin, her emotional state transmuted to something entirely different, her anger and sullenness washed over by shades of volatile disappointment and uncomfortable relief.

“It’s not your fault,” Marlo murmured, staring at Marilee, while Marin rubbed her cut. “It is nobody’s fault.”

Nobody said anything. It was the first time this house had ever experienced such fractured silence.

Nauseous anxiety buoyed in Marin’s tummy. She closed her eyes, erasing the image of her sister’s deceased silhouette; she ignored the throbbing pain of her bleeding ear; she focused on a shard of memory, a vision from a time so long ago she doubted whether she had actually lived it at all.

In the museum. Her least favorite part. A section that wrapped around tubular barricades, static aquariums of plastic prehistoric fish and fauna carved into the cement walls, lights dimmed and receded, a sparse dark. At the end of this aquatic tunnel was a gigantic wall, enshrined with the molding of an ancient leviathan, behind it glistening vertical strains of deep ocean, partial artificial sunlight painted on, dropping to unfading black. And Marin standing there, a small mouse, directly in front of these behemoth jaws, slabs of unchipped gray, surrounding a gargantuan hole of darkness darker than the deepest elegies of space.

If there were eyes, they were meaningless lamplights compared to the sheer earth-swallowing pit of nothingness that was its mouth. It was the only part of the exhibit she was truly frightened of—the thought of being mindlessly swallowed up by this monstrous thing, without even being bit or chewed, without even having a chance to swim away. And she resented this memory, because she remembers when she was standing there, lost in the gape, so afraid, she soiled herself, and all the other passersby pointed and giggled and laughed at her.

This was when her father came and knocked one of the other fathers in the nose and there was shouting everywhere. That’s when she had to ride home in the back of a police vehicle. It’s when someone actually gave a damn enough to protect her.

As Marin opened her eyes, Marlo sobbing in her lap, embracing her sister, Marin had the most curious instinct of latching her arms around her sister in an affectionate—rather than hateful—manner. There was no more trouble.

Marin wanted to ask Marlo if she would ever let her slip away. Into the fade. Or if she’d have the decency of contributing her fossil to a museum. So she could live on forever—not as a monument to fear and darkness, but as a reminder of life and love, even in the corners of something as quiet and little as a mouse. But then Marin began crying fabulously furious tears, thinking to herself, Who would ever want to look at the skeleton of a mouse?

“Don’t cry, Marin. Save your energy. I still need you to clean up this mess.” Marlo disappeared into the kitchen, scrambling to find whatever remained of the morphine.

There were three sisters. Now there were none.

[old story, circa 2017]

#sickofsisters #thefinishpiece #dilonzeres #prose #poetry #verse #irrealism

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