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iya5rt · 5 years ago

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Kalopsia Project [Bakugo Katsuki x Reader – Tokyo Ghoul AU]

Chapter 8 – Fate Always Finds a Way to Make Things Worse

Chapter Summary: Midoriya has a theory on what might be happening to you. But… that should be impossible, right…?

Kalopsia Project Masterpost

Past closing time, Yuuei was usually silent. Its few employees who, sheltered by Aizawa, lived in the building of the cafe, would retire to their rooms and either spend their evening silently entertaining themselves with social media, studying, or perhaps even sleeping. That’s how it had been for years and, up until recently, everyone thought that’s how it was going to be for years to come.

Something had shaken up this silence mere days ago. It had been a welcome change. Yuuei was just a tad bit more lively these days. And no one complained.

Tonight, Yuuei was quiet for the first time since your arrival.

It wasn’t quiet because there was nobody to fill the silence. As a mater of fact, less than an hour ago the small cafe had been filled with frantic cries. Panic. Fear.

It was much like the first time you’d been brought here. Yet somehow, there was more at stake today. At least, that’s what it felt like.

Bakugo Katsuki didn’t even have it in him to pace back and forth, like all the worried relatives you’d see in movies everywhere. No, why would he be worried? He was just annoyed that there was all this buzz. That everyone was making it seem like a big deal. Surely it was nothing. Just some human girl with a cold. Why should he care?

…

That’s what he kept telling himself. And when that too failed, he let the faint buzzing of the freezer downstairs and the muffled but indistinguishable voices from the neighboring room drown out the rest of his thoughts.

He was frustrated. With everyone who just stood by and watched. With those who panicked and only made everything worse. With damn Deku for not being fast enough. With those four freaks you had been talking to for taking so long to just get the hell out of the cafe. With Aizawa for even letting you work here in the first place.

With you for pushing yourself, for being so reckless.

And most of all, with himself. He had never felt so conflicted before. And he hated feeling conflicted.

All of that, over some random human getting sick, being dumb and not resting enough, only to just lose consciousness out of nowhere.

Had there been signs? Should he have known? Was it worse than it looked?

He suddenly recalled that sinking sensation from earlier. But what proof was that? Strong or not, intuition proved nothing.

Though Midoriya had offered him to come in, saying there wasn’t a problem, Bakugo had voluntarily declined. He needed time to sort out his thoughts, and staring at your unconscious form and Deku’s annoying face wouldn’t have made things any easier on his raging thoughts.

Following the sound of quiet footsteps, the door he sat beside slowly opened. It suddenly dawned on him that he had sorted out nothing, after all. Guess his thoughts were going to bother him longer than he’d hoped they would.

Out the room came out Midoriya and though Bakugo only spared him a brief glance, he could already tell he looked troubled.

Great. As if he’d needed any more reason to worry. Not that he was worried in the first place-

He scoffed, grumbling through his teeth.

“How bad can a goddamn cold get!? Humans are so fragile.” He finally gave up and turned to face Midoriya. A decision which he immediately regretted, upon noticing that the greenhead had stiffen at his words, his eyebrows scrunching even further. Compared to how he had looked after treating your quite literally life-threatening injuries, one would think you had died or something.

Midoriya opened his mouth a few times, as if he was hesitant. Unsure. Finally, he sighed and quietly asked.

“Say, Kacchan, have you or anyone else seen [F/N]-san eat anything lately?” Bakugo cocked an eyebrow – that was not what he’d expected to hear. He shrugged and leaned against the wall, training his eyes on a single spot. He hoped that would ease those conflicting feelings.

“I haven’t – she said something about the cold killing her appetite. I don’t know – her and her human problems. Dunno about the rest though.” Midoriya’s breath seemingly stopped for a second, as he proceeded to start pacing back and forth between the two ends of the small hall, running a hand through his messy hair, only making it look more disheveled.

“This should be impossible…? It can’t- it… It makes no sense!” He stopped, rubbing his face a few more times, before his shoulders slumped. He turned to face Bakugo and pulled up his sleeve, pointing towards his forearm. “When [F/N]-san fell, she dropped the tray and the mug with the hot cocoa shattered. I noticed one of the pieces had cut her arm quite badly.”

Bakugo didn’t even nod, glaring at Midoriya instead – it was his “friendly” sign to stop blabbering on and on and just get to the point already. Midoriya rolled down his sleeve and motioned for Bakugo to come into the room with him.

After quietly opening the door, so as to not startle you in the odd case that you were already awake, the two remained still, at first looking at your sleeping form, one in all his uncertainty and worry, the other in a knowing pity. Then Midoriya finally locked eyes with Bakugo, holding his glare until it turned into a look of anticipation instead.

“It’s gone,” he said.

They remained silent for a few seconds.

Midoriya seemed to know something. Yet Bakugo was simply confused. That made no sense. No, that really was impossible.

Unlike him though, Midoriya had connected the dots already.

“Think about it. Her cut healing mysteriously. The lack of appetite. Even her odd scent you mentioned when she first came here?” Midoriya’s brows were scrunched in worry. “I… I can’t say for certain. I’ve never seen anything like that. They don’t really teach you that stuff in med school,” he chuckled nervously. “But if I had to guess, she must be...”

He didn’t finish. He had already noticed how Bakugo’s eyes had also widened.

“We have to take this to Toshinori, Kacchan. This might be serious. No, this might be something no one has seen before-”

“No!” Bakugo snapped back. “It’s always ‘Toshinori, this’ and ‘Toshinori, that’ - don’t any of you realize he comes from the CCG! I don’t care how much you trust him – this could easily be beyond all of us, and he’s no exception!” Midoriya panicked at his raised voice, though before he could motion for Bakugo to keep quiet (they were, after all, still in your room), two more people walked in. Two pairs of eyes turned to them, only for one to widen in surprise, while the other narrowed in a glare.

“This time Midoriya is right,” Aizawa said. Bakugo’s glare only hardened. Why couldn’t any of them see the problem here!? Aizawa glanced at Todoroki, who nodded back and began.

“You see, my dad was the one who lead that massive raid of one of the CCG Research Facilities a few years ago,” he explained, earning back a few more nods. Everyone had heard about it – a big group of ghouls had attacked the facility, taking down many CCG researchers and investigators. At the front of it all had been Endeavor – nicknamed that for defeating All Might – one of the CCG’s best investigators, who had been in the leading positions of the defense.

And though they all knew that, they also knew that Todoroki wasn’t one to bring up his father just like that. No one at Yuuei liked to pry, but they were well-aware of his disdain for Endeavor. If he was talking about his father, there must have been a damn good reason for it.

Todoroki took the growing silence as his cue to continue.

“It seems like inside the building they discovered an odd room. It looked like they were experimenting on something. Humans and, according to him the size of the equipment made it seem like they might have even been experimenting on children. They didn’t recover any of the files but he said he caught a glimpse of the name “Kalopsia Project” somewhere.”

“Think about it – this is the CCG we’re talking about. If anyone has access to any information about ghouls, it… it has to be them. What if, and I hope it stays an ‘if’, [F/N]-san had something to do with this? The raid was a while ago. She would have still been a child. We all would have.” Midoriya explained, looking somewhere off to the side. None of this was right. None of it.

The conversation he had had with you just the previous day resurfaced in Bakugo’s mind. Your parents’ involvement with the CCG, the mysterious circumstances surrounding their death.

He didn’t say it out loud though.

It all fit together too well. And if he said it, it would have become all the more true.

He didn’t want it to be true though.

Why didn’t he?

What was wrong with him!?

Why did he care? What did he want? What, what, what.

That was the only word on his mind for the past two hours.

Damn it.

Damn it all.

What mess had he gotten himself into now…?

***

Not long after, Midoriya, Todoroki and Aizawa returned downstairs to brief everyone else on the situation, as well as make the call Bakugo still wasn’t all too pleased with. If only he hadn’t approved of Yuuei taking you in, none of this would have been happening.

Or would it have still happened regardless?

What if instead of having everyone else there to help you through it, you had had to suffer through it all alone?

Then again, whose fault was all this in the first place?

Wasn’t he just trying to pin the blame on someone else…?

Hasn’t he been doing that all along?

Because in reality…

It was him that had decided to save you. It was him that had decided to bring you here. It was him that had decided to insist on keeping you alive.

It was him.

It was him all along.

So why did he keep fooling himself like this? What good was that going to do?

Was it his fault this was happening to you too?

There was no way to know for certain yet. He would just have to wait to find out.

He sat beside the bed you were resting on and gazed at your peaceful face. How much longer was this peace going to last though?

Did you have any idea what kind of screwed up shit you had been subjected to, whether willingly or not? Did you have any idea what was going to happen now? Did you have any idea how hard your life was suddenly going to become?

No… You most likely did not. And neither did he.

***

This was the second time in just a week you were waking up without any recollection of what might have happened for you to even be asleep in the first place. This really wasn’t a habit you should have been developing.

Not only that, this time you felt groggy, nauseous even. This must have been the worst sleep you’ve ever had. It was like you hadn’t slept at all. You briefly recalled something about a cold and everything started making sense – you never slept well when you were sick anyway. As if your life hadn’t been messed up enough already.

You decided there was no point wasting time in bed right now, especially with how thirsty you were, not to mention the hunger that was slowly creeping up – and here you thought the cold had killed your appetite. Though with a few grunts from how stiff your entire body felt, you somehow managed to push yourself up and sit in the bed, reaching a hand to move all the stray hair away from your face.

Only now did you notice Bakugo beside the bed, as he seemed to suddenly perk up. Instead of doing or saying anything though, he froze, eyes locked on you. The heavy silence lasted a few more seconds, until it dawned on you.

“Oh god, I fainted, didn’t I!?” you exclaimed, hands flying to your face yet again. “I am so, so sorry! Everyone must have been so worried, oh no… Someone had to bring me up here too, right? Damn it, Midoriya-kun probably had to deal with me again, I am so sorry, I can’t believe I keep causing so much trouble… for you.. guys...” You trailed off. Bakugo’s brows had furrowed and he had let out a long sigh, hunching forward to rest his head on his hands, as he contemplated. With a shake of his head, he muttered something.

“If anyone should be worried right now, it should be you.”

Your brows furrowed too, though it was more so due to confusion. While you remained silent, he seemed to be reasoning with himself. In the end however, he decided to be blunt.

“You...” His crimson eyes looked up, meeting yours. “[Y/N], you’re turning into a ghoul.”

“...”

A heavy silence fell upon the room yet again. And then…

You chuckled.

“I know I’m a little drowsy still but this probably isn’t something you should joke about, Bakugo-kun. At least make it something more believable next time, jeez,” you pouted, turning to look at Bakugo’s reaction to one of his rare jokes getting totally busted. What you saw however, made your smile fall a bit.

“No, you don’t get it...” he managed through gritted teeth.

“It’s okay, Bakugo-kun. Bad jokes happen to the best of us, don’t worry-”

“No, don’t tell me not to worry!!” He had raised his voice. “This is not a joke, [Y/N]! Don’t laugh about it – don’t you understand!? Your life’s been fucked over, can’t you grasp that!?”

Seems like being yelled at first thing after you woke up did not lead to you thinking things through and reasoning with Bakugo though.

“What’s your problem!?” you snapped back. Who was he to say things like that!? “This is ridiculous, can’t you hear yourself? You’re right, this isn’t funny, so stop!”

“And you don’t wanna believe me!? See for yourself – you haven’t eaten anything lately, you’ve been attacked by all sorts of weird creeps, your scent’s not normal – something is wrong!!”

You looked down, gritting your teeth too. Didn’t he realize that none of what had happened lately was all too pleasant to you?

“You say this… But do you really think, Bakugo-kun…” You looked up to meet his eyes again. “Do you really think any of this would have happened then!? If what you’re saying is true, how would any of this have happened, huh? Do you have any idea how scared I was that night? I thought I was going to die!!” You had both unknowingly leaned closer, each trying to convince the other they were right. “Do you know how much it hurt!? How much pain I felt while I was trying to run for my life!? If I really was a ghoul, do you think I would still have this damn scar on my shoulder!? That scar that hurts every time I even move!! Do you-”

Your words caught in your throat.

Bakugo, who had even looked remorseful for a second there, now blinked as you suddenly went quiet and your eyes widened.

“No. No, no, no. You have to be kidding me, t-that’s ridiculous, it can’t be, i-its’ impossible, I...” you continued mumbling in disbelief, rushing to pull up the sleeve of your t-shirt. And no matter how desperately you looked, it… “It’s… not here… Oh god, it’s really gone… The… The scar is… it’s gone…?” Your voice cracked.

But how!? You saw it there just this morning when you woke up. It didn’t look like it was going to heal any time soon, if it ever was even going to heal in the first place. So then what had happened? No human could heal just like that.

…

No human could…

Suddenly the reality of what Bakugo had said all came rushing at you.

How…?

You didn’t have it in you to cry. Not now anyway. No, you couldn’t even begin to grasp the thought. It was too much. Too confusing. Too sudden.

As you stood there almost motionless, Bakugo put a hand on your back. It was warm.

It was so, so warm. And any other time, maybe that would have meant something. Maybe it would have made you tease him, laugh, smile, feel all warm and fuzzy yourself. Set off those butterflies in your stomach perhaps?

Today, Yuuei was silent.

Today, you couldn’t even bring yourself to really feel that warmth.

Today, everything was going wrong.

“Though we’re not sure what to do yet, Aizawa said we’re going to have to pay a visit to that mysterious guy you keep hearing about. It seems like he knows something.”

You laughed. It wasn’t funny, you just… weren’t sure how else to react.

And here you thought you’d seen it all. Here you thought you were prepared for anything.

“Knowing isn’t the same as helping… What’s…What’s going to happen now…?”

Bakugo shook his head. He had no idea either.

It was a bit of a funny scene. To be asking a ghoul of all things about that.

You thought back.

To that first night when it had all started. To how it had all started.

Suddenly you wondered, where had things gone so wrong…?

***

[CLASSIFIED INFORMATION]

Protocol K78152112

Subject #36

Real Name: Toga Himiko

Background: Subject was found trying to attack a pair of helpless ghouls, despite not being a ghoul herself; said she was abandoned by her parents; seems to be mentally unstable.

Results: Blood structure changed; Subject suffered major blood loss;

Full sync with the kakuhou was achieved in a few hours. Subject lived and showed no further signs of deterioration.

(scribbled in pen) And here I was, thinking three was the lucky number. They keep getting better and better but they’re all screwed in the head and can’t do anything without orders. Might have to tweak that a bit…

***

Author’s Note: Haha. Fun chapter, wasn’t it?

I wasn’t kidding when I said the plot was picking up. Whenever something major happens, know that I’ve tried my best to hide small clues about it throughout the story. Reader-chan’s peculiar scent, as noted by Bakugo in chapter 2? Well, now you have an explanation. The title of the story even? There’s a bit more about it later on but today was the first ever mention of it in an actual chapter!

Anyway, I had the sudden realization that the reader getting sick happened to coincide with what’s happening all over the world right now too. So for today, I would love to know what you thought about this new development! Did you see it coming? Does it explain some things? Or does it just raise more questions?

But I’d also be curious to hear – what measures are being taken where you live because of the virus? Here, schools are completely off-limits and our classes have moved online – it’s an interesting experience because most of our teachers can’t even grasp how to use the different platforms we need. Alas, that’s how it is, I guess.

So thank you all so much for reading!! I appreciate it a lot and I’m so excited for all the foreshadowing to finally pay off! I’d also love it if you dropped a comment and shared your answers on those questions – I’m super curious to know about them! I’ll see you all next Wednesday! Bye~

(Psst, @afuckingunicornn @creativedogs @chims-kookies - you know the drill by now - thank you for the support and here is the next part!)

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha tokyo ghoul au

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modernbookfae · 8 years ago

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The Commander’s Order

Nesta has made a reputation in the Illyrian camp. Her cutting words and fists have brought forth both respect and loathing from the soldiers. But she is about to meet the one opponent who is to be her match.

Lines of Love and War : Chapter 2

A gust of wind beating against the small tent roused Nesta from slumber. She grit her chattering teeth and tugged the threadbare blanket tighter around her shoulders. Outside the wind continued its onslaught against her small tent. Nesta wouldn’t be surprised if a strong draft carried herself and meager tent over the cliff.

“Why the hell would anyone live on this forsaken mountain,” Nesta grumbled wishing sleep would return.

A male laughed in the distance, but it sounded more like a braying donkey. Nesta groaned and rolled her eyes at the sound.

Right. Illyrians were the insane fools who decided to train, eat and sleep on these wretched cold mountains. And now she was stuck to join their ranks in the war against Hybern.

Slowly Nesta sat up from her bed pallet and moved the blanket from her body. She swiftly changed clothes in the enclosed space. A difficult task, but she knew it was better than seeking other shelter in case any of the males decided to follow her for a peek. The Illyrian females had warned her how the majority of the males treated them. Females were seen as weak, compliant breeding tools and nothing more.

Nesta noticed the leering gazes herself when she would walk through camp. At first she assumed it was because she was a new war recruit, but their stares were hungry. And Nesta did not take lightly to being considered a piece of meat that others wanted to taste.

She made a reputation for herself the first week at camp. Nesta imagined she must have lashed out toward half of the camp’s males with her viper tongue. The insults and fast remarks flew from her mouth just as often as Illyrians flied across the sky with their wings. Which was almost every moment.

And if words didn’t work then her fists did. The look of surprise on all the hardened Illyrian warriors’ faces was priceless when Nesta, a girl from the human side of the wall, broke the nose of a soldier who had tried to grope her.

That was the day she had gained a fragment of respect from a few Illyrians since they could see she would retaliate any unwanted attention. But she also received more taunts from those who couldn’t control themselves.

Each new dawn meant a new challenge. Most of the males still didn’t respect her. She doubted that they ever would considering the centuries of tradition they grew up on made them believe that females were to be used at their convenience. Still that didn’t mean Nesta was giving up.

She stepped out of her tent and began stretching her tight muscles. A yawn broke free from her lips and her empty stomach growled. At least Nesta could easily dismiss the hunger considering that most of her life consisted of meager meals that never completely sated her appetite.

A dark shadow drifted beside her tent.

“Do you plan on playing nice today or are you going to get into another squabble?” The Suriel asked. Its form cloaked in magic causing it to be unseen by any passerby.

“When these beasts learn some damn manners then perhaps I won’t need to give them a rude awakening with my fists.”

The Suriel chuckled. Or at least it sounded like it, but the rasp made it unclear to Nesta.

“I wouldn’t expect any less from the eldest Acheron,” the Suriel said. “You are adept at verbal sparring and have potential to hone your physical skills, but today you will be tested.”

“Isn’t everyday a test of sorts?” Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Each day my patience is tested with these Illyrians. And why is it that there are no humans here? How come I appear to be the only one summoned to this army?”

“Because it takes a specific soul to withstand the conditions this mountain presents. A number of Illyrians who are born and raised here do not always survive to adulthood,” the Suriel replied. “And humans have a far greater difficulty as it is with their weaker bodies.”

“Then why was I sent here?” Nesta asked in confusion.

The Suriel smiled. Its yellowed teeth revealed. “That is a question for another time.”

Nesta released a frustrated breath. A drum beat in the distance signaled that all soldiers were to report at the center of camp.

Nesta followed the drumbeat along with the other soldiers who were making their way out of their tents. She didn’t glance back knowing full well that the Suriel had already vanished.

When she arrived at the camp’s center the majority of soldiers were already lingering around. Females talked amongst each other while the males did the same. An obvious segregation between the two had been made.

Nesta made her way to a few females she was familiar with, but an Illyrian male blocked her path. He was almost her height if only a bit taller. He was flanked by two other Illyrian warriors. They each wore one siphon of varying colors on the back of their hands. A sign that these warriors were powerful enough that the stones were needed to regulate their energy.

“And what are you doing here?” Devlon asked. His tone clearly demeaning.

Nesta arched a brow. Leave it to Devlon to already find her. He was one of those males that sought to bring her down constantly, because she refused to cower at his words.

“Unless I’m mistaken the drums mean that all soldiers are to report,” Nesta replied evenly.

“Yes. Soldiers,” Devlon looked Nesta up and down. “You are no soldier. Why don’t you go clean laundry as a good female should?”

“Why? Were you so frightened to see me approaching that you soiled your clothes?” Nesta sniffed the air. “That must be why your stench is worse than usual.”

Fury filled Devlon’s eyes and his hand reached for one of his many weapons.

“I will not stand for such insults by a weakling,” Devlon snarled. “Perhaps a lesson is required before the Commander arrives.”

Commander? Nesta hadn’t seen the Commander of the Illyrian armies since her arrival. Then again she had heard that his time was occupied by strategizing with the High Lord of the Night Court back in the city of Velaris.

“Teach her where her place is!” A male Illyrian from the crowd shouted.

Murmurs rose up and suddenly Nesta found herself pitted against Devlon.

She barely had time to react before he charged her. His wings flared out and Nesta ducked to avoid being clipped by the appendages.

There was no way she could stand a full-blown fight again Devlon. He had years of combat training compared to Nesta’s meager month. Even with her demi-fae powers it would be a challenge unless she completely unleashed what she kept caged inside. But that would mean destruction she was not ready to face. Her powers frightened her more than any adversary that approached her in this camp.

She dodged and moved to avoid most of the hits Devlon threw at her. Nesta didn’t look back to see that his punches usually struck someone in the crowd resulting in a chain reaction that brought forth an all out brawl among the Illyrians nearby.

Nesta now focussed on not being struck by the stary swings of the other males. Her brief moment of distraction resulted in Devlon smacking her across the face. A furious rage washed over Nesta as her cheek throbbed in pain.

Instinctively her powers seeped in her veins. Responding to a call Nesta did not voluntarily ask for.

Lightening crackled at her fingertips. Devlon realized too late the ability Nesta harbored secretly. Her hand caught his wrist before throwing him in a blinding flash that sent him falling – no flying – backwards into a group of unsuspecting Illyrians who also fell to the ground in a stunned heap.

“SOLDIERS!” A deep voice boomed across the camp.

Immediately the fighting came to a halt. All faces turned to where two Illyrian males stood. The duo radiated power unlike anything Nesta had encountered among other Illyrians. One that resembled shadows and mystery while the other blazed with energy that crackled like fire.

A slight tug pulled her attention to one of them in particular. It was as if she felt drawn to him. An absurd idea considering she had no idea who he was.

And yet I feel as if I’ve known him for so long.

He wore standard leathers meant for training. But that was the only normality he possessed. His dark skin rippled from muscles in his arms as he crossed them to survey the troops. His assertive stance displayed a sense of authority that made Nesta pause.

But those eyes. Even strands of his long black hair could not hide the burning spirit of his hazel irises. Those same eyes that were currently staring directly into her own.

Nesta blinked.

And the male smirked at her.

He strode through the warriors who parted without a word. They watched in silence and curiosity.

“You’re the one causing trouble in my camp?” the male asked. A faint smile played on his lips. His wings tucked in tight, yet his broad shoulders took up enough space that the others gave him a wide berth as he approached Nesta.

She didn’t respond. Her eyes assessed the situation she now found herself in. That was when she noticed the seven red siphons.

If one siphon was what most Illyrians needed to handle their killing power…

For the first time since Nesta arrived at this camp she felt uneasy. But she stood firm as the male stopped in front of her. His gaze ran up and down her body. Sizing her up.

Her fists clenched and the male’s hazel eyes took note of her reaction. Another smile tugging at his lips.

“What’s your name?” He asked in a low voice usually reserved for the bedroom.

Nesta narrowed her eyes. Apparently his manners were lacking if he wouldn’t introduce himself first. She was about to tell him as such, but a voice broke out over the silenced gathering.

“Bitch,” Devlon growled and strode toward her.

“I hardly think that’s her name,” the other male drawled. He shrugged at Nesta as if Devlon could not be helped in his rude behavior. His siphons glinted like rubies in the morning light with the motion.

“Suits her well enough,” Devlon sneered. “This is why females are better off away from the training grounds Commander.”

Nesta tried to reign in her surprise as she gave the man beside her a second glance. So this was the Commander of Illyrian armies.

“Every able body will be trained Devlon,” the Commander said. “And if you dare go against my orders again by having them only doing chores we are going to have a discussion in the training pit where my fists will do the talking.”

Devlon remained quiet even as his hands tightened with hatred simmering in his eyes.

“Now that we have that settled,” the Commander dismissed Devlon without another word before returning his gaze to Nesta. “Care to tell me your name?”

For a few seconds Nesta remained silent, before finally giving him what he asked.

“Nesta,” she said. “And you’re name is…?”

The Commander leaned closer to Nesta in a smooth motion that caused her to lean back a fraction of an inch in surprise. And then he smirked with cockiness that won women over and brought them to his bed. “Whatever your heart desires sweetheart.”

“How about egotistical bastard?” Nesta snapped without a second thought.

The Commander looked slightly stunned her words. He was not expecting that much of a vehement refusal to his flirtation. He recovered quickly with eyes gleaming in a challenge before straightening his stature and addressing his troops.

Nesta could tell he was up to something with the way his lips quivered in restraint from laughing.

“Soldiers! Thanks to Nesta,” The Commander grinned at Nesta with humor in his eyes. “You will all be running through our most grueling drills today. And tomorrow. And the next.”

A symphony of groans rose up from the crowd along with a few glares pointed at Nesta.

“Is that understood?” The Commander’s voice carried over the troops.

“Yes Commander!” The soldiers said before heading off to their drills.

Nesta grudgingly began following the others. Intent on getting the day over with since she was sure to be getting glares and spiteful remarks from the Illyrians. A large hand clasped her arm halting her stride. The fingers easily wrapped around her narrow wrist. She turned to see the Commander with his head cocked slightly to the side. As if trying to figure Nesta out.

“What?” Nesta bit out.

That one word shook him from his trance.

“You used lightening power earlier,” he began. “Have you been testing your skills with it?”

“I’ve never had to use it before,” Nesta admitted. “And I don’t ever want to again.”

At this the Commander looked confused. “But you need to harness that power.”

“So I can use it in the war?” Nesta chuckled darkly. “I’d rather win with my own strength then rely on something I despise.”

“It’s not a matter of the war, but it’s your life that’s at stake,” the Commander explained. “If you don’t learn how to release that magic then you’re only going to harm yourself and those around you. Which means I am effectively putting you on a special routine so we can better evaluate your abilities.”

“No,” Nesta ripped her wrist out of his loose grip. “I’m not like your kind. I don’t need fae magic.” Nesta spat out those last words.

“My kind?” He stepped forward. He tempered down his fiery outrage at the insulting tone of her words. How could this human – no this demi-fae – think that they were so different. Did she not understand the gift and potential she harnessed? Could she not see that he was trying to help her?

“All you fae-” Nesta began, but was effectively cut off by the Commander.

“You yourself have fae blood,” he said and sniffed the air as if to prove his senses were correct. “And I suggest you get over whatever prejudice or fear you have, because right now we have a war to deal with and there is no meaning in fighting with yourself over this delusional matter of ignoring your powers at the risk of your life and my troops.”

“You bastard,” Nesta bit out with fists shaking in anger. “You don’t know anything about me.”

He stepped closer into Nesta’s personal space. He towered over her with his height as his wings flared out a bit in a display of dominance. “I can easily change that.” He quirked a suggestive brow.

Disgust laced Nesta’s features. “As if I would ever be with a brute like you.”

“Better get used to it sweetheart,” the Commander smiled. “Because for the next couple of months we are going to train together. You and me personally to gain a better understanding of your powers.”

Nesta opened her mouth to disagree, but knew in the end that if the Commander ordered it then she was bound to listen or else face penalty. She could rage against it, but she had no clue just how strict this man was with his soldiers.

Would he send her to get lashings like they did with the disobedient children? Or would it be far worse for disobeying an order from the Commander?

She shook with resentment toward these beasts called Illyrians. And now she had to deal with the most pompous one of them all.

When Nesta didn’t argue the Commander took that as a sign that she would be learning how to harness her power.

“Oh and by the way,” the Commander leaned back with a grin lighting his face. “Call me Cassian.”

⇠ Previous Chapter

✯ Masterlist of Chapters ✯

#nessian #nesta and cassian #cassian and nesta #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #mulan au #nessian fanfiction #acowar

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theangry-ace · 8 years ago

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The Blade and the Hammer

A short (platonic) Renora ficlet.

I don’t speak English so some parts of the grammar might be eh. I’m sorry.

The soles of her feet were like on fire. Each step she could feel her heels, her knees, all up to her pelvis screaming in pain. But after each step, she took another. And another. And another. Breathing through her nose made her choke. She needed more air to run. But to breathe through her mouth made her throat burns. But she needed to. They needed to run.

The boy still has his hand holding firmly onto hers as he led them away from the mayhem that just happened right behind them. They’re still so close; she could still felt the heat of the fire burning the whole village, down on her back. Or was it just her aching muscles that seared through her whole body? She didn’t dare to look back. Her sights blurred from the sweat falling from her forehead and got into her eyes. In a fraction of a second she could see the small stone in front of her path but she was too tired to command her feet to avoid it. She fell face first into the uneven dirt road. Not a single limb wanted to pull herself back up again.

The boy instantly was beside her and pulled her right arm over his shoulders to help her get up on her feet. His face was tight, he was biting his lips. Whatever magic he did before to erase her fear was not present anymore. She was afraid, but he must have been terrified. It was his home. She only had been there for a few days but she liked Kuroyuri. The kids there bullied her a lot but there was a lot of food to eat. Most she took from the trash but it’s far better than having nothing to eat at all. It was a good town.

“Wait… my… hammer…”

She pointed to the small wooden toy thrown to the middle of the dirt road. The boy reached for it and put it in her hand. Her scratched, trembling hand. With a nod, the boy proceeded to carry her down the valley. They must have run so long she could already see the sun peeking through the horizon. She wanted to tell him that she can’t go any further. The boy, his eyes piercing straight ahead, was determined to run. Determined to help her. She saw a blade tucked into his belt and could make out a carving of a flower on the hilt. Lotus flower. Yes. It’s his name.

“Ren…”

His pace slowed when he heard her called his name. He let go of her arm and let her sit on the ground, catching her breaths. Ren was just as exhausted as he, too, rests his bottom and panting so loudly. They were so close she could hear his heart beating so rapidly.

“I can’t hear the… monster anymore. We must have run far enough…”

Ren only nodded. He, too, avoided to look back to where his home was. Without a word, he took her hand, help her up and continued to walk along the road. She has no idea where were they going, but somehow she trusted him to lead the way. It’s almost like she knew him for the longest time ever and not just that night. His hand was the only sense of security she could think of. She called out his name again and he smiled. For once, all her fears dissipated. There was only hope of a future.

“We have to be brave, Nora. We’ll keep ourselves safe.”

---

Being in a crowd of strangers was not one of the thing he would voluntarily do if he had a choice, but there was no helping it today. They were lining up to apply as student to the small combat school of the town. It was not a small town but even then Ren still doubt if everyone here are locals. He spotted a few Faunus here and there. Some dressed like they came from other continent. One or two he overheard them talking in another dialect. Was the school a famous one?

“They probably got pumped up by the call for more Huntsmen that got played over and over again on TV. But still, I don’t expect it to be this many people. Oh no, what if we sign up too late? What if they don’t have enough room in their dorms? Do we have to find another town with another combat school that provides free dormitory? What if we had to sleep in someone’s barn again? Ugh I could almost taste the damp hay smell in my mouth!”

Nora went on her usual ramblings, making funny faces as she does that he just can’t help but smile. But she was right. The main reason they’re here was to take advantage of the free lodging the school provided for their students. They were already an age where they are no longer priority at orphanage or shelter. They needed more space for younger orphans and refugees, so they would encourage independency as soon as the residents reached 15 years of age. They managed before by doing menial labor at farms or small shops. He would always prefer if he could help in the kitchen; cooking and baking were his forte. Nora on the other hand preferred a much more physical work like cutting firewood or tending the fire to a furnace. Her tasks were definitely much tougher than his most of the time, but she would do them all with that wide smile of hers, never complaining that life is hard. Life is always hard, but you need to keep on living.

“But you know, I always wanted to be a Huntsman too. They look so cool on TV! Did you know this town has THREE Huntsmen? I saw one of them and she was so cool! She got this large spear like thing on her back that she said could also shoot stuff like a gun. She said if I were to be a Huntsmen like her I need to have a Semblance, and I totally have one so I totally can be a Huntsmen too!”

Ah yes. Her Semblance. His heart just literally stopped when he found her climbing up a tree when there was a storm gathering above several years ago. She said she’s just retrieving a kite a kid lost and forget about, wanting it to be hers. As orphans and homeless for most of their lives, they were fortunate enough to have enough to eat and beds under a roof for most nights, but some… luxuries, were just too far for them to wish. Toys are definitely one of the luxuries they cannot afford.

Being the older of the two, Ren got uninterested with toys far sooner than his friend, but Nora retained her childish demeanor even up to now. She wanted to play. She wanted to run and jump. She wanted to laugh out loud. And now she’s challenging her luck to be struck by a lightning while so high up a tree. A flash of light and a deafening crackle later, he saw her hitting the ground. The tree was up in flames. Ren feared the worst but Nora just stood up with a wide grin on her face. Her whole body glowed with thin pink threads of electricity. He was losing his mind when he approached her, thinking she must have broken a leg at least but she stood up steady while flexing her limbs. The first thing she said to him was “REN! NOW I CAN BE A HUNTSMAN TOO! I HAVE A SEMBLANCE!”

“Are you sure you want to apply as a student, Nora? You don’t have to, you know. My wish to be a Huntsman is very personal,”

Ren wanted to make up to the lack of things he could do to Kuroyuri. He wanted no other village fell to the vicious Grimms. He wanted to be someone who could do something. He no longer want to be in a position where there’s nothing that he could do to help.

“As is mine, too. Besides, I can watch your back and you can watch over mine. We need to stick together, keep ourselves safe… But not, together-together.”

She amused herself whenever she implied of their delicate relationship, laughing it off or changing the subject. It’s not that Ren doesn’t want to talk about it but he didn’t know yet to define what they have. He loved her and she loved him; that was as clear as water is wet. They kept themselves in line, and always be there whenever the other needed any kind of support. Was it the romantic kind? Does it need to be romantic? Nora met his eyes. He wonders if one of her innate talents to be mind reading because she smiled and give his hand a reassuring grasp. We don’t have to change a thing for now. Let’s just be ourselves and wait for the time when we can comfortably talk about everything. If that time ever came, that is.

“You heard that this school will help you to make your own weapon? I can’t wait to make my own hammer that shoots grenades and blows up in pink cloud because PINK!”

If the time comes.

“I know what yours will be. It will be green and small BUT deadly and there’s a blade to it. OH I KNOW! A BLADE GUN… THING!”

She knows him too well. Ren silently prayed there will be time for them to talk about their future. He returned her grasp and smiled back at her.

When the time comes. If it ever comes.

#rwby ficlet #renora

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thedespondentone-blog · 8 years ago

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One moment you’re putting Judith to bed, the next you’re being forced to kneel. Hands tied behind your back you realize everything you’ve ever known is about to change. Suddenly you’re ripped away from your family and the love of your life. Negan has a goal to make him yours, but you’re already taken. And Rick will do everything he can to get you back. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned in this life, is that love conquers all. // TL;DR: Negan chooses to steal you away during the night of Glenn and Abraham’s death. Rick, being the love of your life and you the love of his, will do everything he can to get you back. Even if that risks death. Chapter three! Read the other chapters here: One, Two. You can also read on ao3: X

Chapter Three: Kingdom of Welcome Addiction Do you remember your coming down Forced to take sides? Your taunted charm and your broken smile Touched me unexpectedly

He picked up the bat and slammed it down, the skull cracking in its wake causing the eyes to pop out due to the pressure. Yet, he didn’t break eye contact. He lifted his arms up and brought the bat down again, and again, and again. He whipped the bat back up and blood flew onto you. You had tunnel vision. Your only focus was on this man and nothing else. It was the easiest thing to do in the moment. Nothing else made sense. He walked over to his next victim, saying something to the crowd but never removing his eyes from you. He did the same thing to a new head, smashing it again, and again until there was nothing left. By the end of it you could tell he was exhausted. His arms swung carelessly at his side while his breathing remained heavy. He winked at you and gave you a smile, and you felt the need to crawl inside yourself.

-- /FLASHBACK/

“Okay, do I aim like this?” you asked Rick. You were on the farm, pointing a gun at an empty soda bottle that was standing on the wooden fence. You have been begging him to teach you how to shoot properly since your way of “just shoot until you hit something” wasn’t proven effective on runs. The only thing saving your ass was your quick movements. You could out run or outsmart a walker any day.

You loved going on runs, in fact, you thought it was exhilarating. The quick get in and out before you’re touched made your heart race. And it was the only time you could spend with Rick without feeling eyes on you. You were the first to volunteer to go, and even if you weren’t always the first pick, he made sure to include you.

Rick walked over and put his arms on top of yours. Your breath hitched at the closeness. You watch his hands enclose on yours as he adjusts your aim.

He muttered something about aiming down the sight but you weren’t really listening. You couldn’t hear much but your heartbeat ringing in your ears. You swallowed and turned your head to meet his.

For weeks now, you two have been together nonstop. If something needed done around the farm, or if Rick needed advice about Sophia, he came to you. If he couldn’t sleep, he often found you lying on the grass admiring the moon and he’d join you in silence.

Your eyes melted into his and you felt his warm breath against your skin.

“Hey!” You heard someone yell, and the surprise made you pull the trigger. You gasped and you both turned your eyes forward to see if your bullet hit anything.

“You haven’t hit ANY?” You heard a voice laugh behind you and you both broke apart from each other. Rick put his hands by his side and stepped back while you lowered your gun and turned around. You see Andrea walking her way towards you.

She laughed and shook her head, “Wow. You really need some practice. But so do I. Mind if I join?”

You both shake your head. “Yeah, sure,” you say, averting your eyes from hers.

“Yeah, no problem,” Rick mutters, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

Andrea looked at you and winked before holding out her hand, waiting for you to hand over the gun.

You stood up from your station, packing up your things from the day. You wondered what the point was. You wake up, go to work, are tormented by Negan, go to sleep, and repeat. The spark in your life that kept you together was gone. Everything that kept you going was removed. So now you wonder, what is the point? What is the reason to keep going? Where is your purpose?

Your shift ended at 3pm but you stayed a few extra hours just for the hell of it. The job at the laundromat was dull, but it got your mind off of things. Your primary job was to make clothing. You were given a station with a sewing machine and thread, and you had a quota to meet every day for certain clothing items. There were people buzzing around you who were in charge of washing, drying, and folding. You were glad you got to sew. You missed this activity, as it was one you went toward when you were feeling anxious. It also gave you a chance to use a bit of creativity and work with your hands.

You weren’t interested in speaking with your co-workers, and they didn’t seem to have much interest in speaking to you. However, you couldn’t help but notice a few whispers or people staring at you every so often.

You grabbed your bag and started to leave the mat as a large figure walked toward you. You stopped once you realized who it was. “Hello darling,” his deep voice greeted you. A nagging feeling appeared in your stomach that wouldn’t subside. You wondered when he will grow bored of you or just give you up. Will you then be able to return to Alexandria? Or will you be forced to roam with the other slaves?

“What do you need, Negan?” You asked, a tired look on your face. You weren’t in the mood for his games. You weren’t in the mood for most things anymore. You were so tired.

“Come with me,” he says while grabbing your hand. You two exit the building and walk together in silence. He didn’t let go of your hand, and you weren’t too eager to let go, either. You had to admit, feeling this tiny gesture of having a hand to hold was nice.

Until you remembered who owned the hand.

Negan takes you in and out of hallways, down large corridors and through narrow buildings. You eventually arrive, being met with a large tower with spiral steps. You both begin to climb them, and you ignore the ache in your knees and the pain in your chest. You just wanted to go to sleep. This entire experience has been way too exhausting.

You reach the top, and he spreads his arms. “Look at this view!” He says, turning around to admire it. You roll your eyes at the fact that he does nothing but fling his arms up and admire his Sanctuary. The sun was setting and it was casting an orange glow among the trees. You took in its beauty, however, it no longer held the same feeling as it used to. Now it just looks like trees. Trees filled with rotting corpses and dead friends.

You said nothing as you walked onto the balcony. Your hands grabbed the railing and you looked straight down. You were pretty high up, but what happened if you jumped? Were you high enough?

You felt hands come around your waist and hold you as you contemplated life or death. You gripped the railing feeling his hands on you.

You were flipped around to meet Negan’s eyes. He ran a hand down your face and his fingers traced your lips. You closed your eyes feeling the intimacy of his hands. It has been so long since you felt any real human contact. You weren’t used to that.

You quickly realized who was performing these gestures and smacked his hands away. You won’t be dancing with the devil tonight.

He smirked at your actions and turned to leave the balcony. “You can stay up here as long as you want; I have some business to attend to.” He states and starts to walk down the spiral steps. You collect yourself and turn around, taking in the people below you.

You look at the top of the buildings and try to map it out from up high. You try to name each building you see to learn the layout, but something catches your eye.

In the far back corner of the Sanctuary you see a gray building, hidden away from the rest of the town, unrecognizable. It was blocked off by fencing and trees and you weren’t sure how to gain access to it.

You were certain enough, however, that you knew where Daryl was. And he was in that building.

You left the tower to do some exploring. You were going to casually walk the perimeter of the Sanctuary to try and make your way to the forbidden building.

You walked past the white building and avoided its entirety. You rolled your eyes at the thought. Girls giving themselves up to one man made you repulsed.

“(Y/N)!” you heard a female say behind you. “Damn,” you said to yourself. You didn’t want to see, let alone talk to, any of those wives.

You turned around to see Sherry standing outside smiling sweetly at you. You gave her a halfhearted smile and walked toward her.

“I… was surprised at your reaction toward me and the girls. I… I guess I thought you knew?”

“Hm. No, I didn’t have any idea.”

Sherry nodded and said, “Right. I just thought, you know, since you’re staying in his room and all that you-“

“That I what? Rail him?” you ask, crossing your arms. Sherry stared at you before nodding slightly.

“No. He never stays the night. In fact, I didn’t even know it was his room for the longest time. I don’t have any interest in becoming one of you.”

You were nastier than you expected, but you were upset. How could anyone mess around with him? Do they not realize what he does to people? The torture he’s capable of?

“Well, I’m sorry if what we do repulses you. But it grants us safety. We aren’t required to do anything that would harm us, we’re fed, sheltered, and Negan treats us like, well, queens.”

You rolled your eyes and muttered a “yeah right”. She stared at you and squinted her eyes.

“Why exactly are you here?” She asked, and you looked at her in disbelief.

“Why am I here? You think I’m here voluntarily? I woke up one day and said, ‘Please! God! Shove me in a room for weeks and then have a man who killed my friends and stole me away from my family torture me! Please, God, would you?!’” You looked at her disgusted and realized you were breathing heavily. She quickly glanced from side to side and grabbed your arm and took you inside the white building, almost at a run.

She took you past the girls lounging in the common room and into her bedroom. She closed the door and locked it. You surveyed her room. You were shocked at how well these rooms were decorated. Who finds these items in the middle of an apocalypse?

The middle of the room had a large queen sized bed with tall wooden posts at every end and a white mesh canopy dropping over it. The furniture was shiny silver with crystal knobs and delicate pearl trimming. You wondered if the other girl’s rooms looked as fancy as Sherry’s.

You turned around to face Sherry and saw her stare sternly at you.

“Listen, you really have to be careful how to talk about him. Someone is always listening, and you can get into deep trouble for talking shit.” She said, her eyes growing sad as she looked to the floor.

She collected herself and looked back up to you, “I wouldn’t mess with him. I don’t know why you’re here, but you have to be careful.”

“You’re admitting your polygamous husband is not a God?” you asked, folding your arms.

She shook her head, “I didn’t ask for this either. Neg- he- there was a deal made. I had to do what I had to do to save my loved ones. As many as the other wives.”

You stared at her in disbelief. “You did this to save your loved ones? I…” you closed your mouth and took a breath.

“How?”

Sherry almost laughed at your question, wiping away tears. “You just have to get the job done. At the end of the day, it’s not about you. It’s about them.”

You stood there in silence and digested her words.

“Just be careful. And stay clear of the wives. If they weren’t already upset about how you acted, they’d be upset about you getting special treatment.”

“Special treatment?”

Sherry nodded, “Yeah. You staying in Negan’s room is a huge deal. None of the other wives have been allowed to stay the night there except me, and it was only once. Being able to stay the night there is, well, almost unattainable.”

Your mouth dropped and you quickly regained your composure.

“I have to go,” you said and quickly left the room.

You flew out of the white building to see Negan standing there with a few of his ‘bitches’ as you called them, by his side.

“Baby! Nice to see you’re making friendly with my wives. See, they ain’t so bad.” He gave you a cheeky grin and you dug your nails into your thigh.

He walked up to you and put his hand on your back. “It’s time for you to grab some dinner and then hit the hay. In the morning, we’re taking a field trip to Alexandria.”

#negan x reader #rick grimes x reader #rick x reader #rick grimes x you #negan x you #rick grimes/you #negan/you #negans thirst squad #my twd #unobstructed twd

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thesynsyn · 7 years ago

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The Misinformation of a Culture

Written by Taia White & Divine

In our current age, social media is not only a means of communication, but also a tool for law enforcement. This became apparent in the search to find missing sixteen year old Kennedi High, when a massive amount of twitter users used the platform to look for her. While few of the tweets were helpful, it ignited an urgency to ensure that local police were actively searching for her. But as always, with such a useful tool at the fingertips of anyone with a phone, it is to be expected that some bad would come out of this. In this case, the bad can be attributed to the fear ignited by various groups of people on social media. This fear is due to many things, the biggest being the falsehoods that began to interlace with the truth to provide shock value. Soon after the disappearance, twitter users began to retweet and post photos of missing black girls, some of them from D.C, others from different states. Some of them who are still missing, and others who have been found for weeks, months, and even years. Soon, a few numbers began to float around, the first, 200 . “200 Hundred girls have gone missing in DC this month Alone .” The Second, most urgent was, “14 girls have gone missing in the last 24 hours.” As with most things on the internet, these statements are half truths.

Yes, in the month of January 211 people, not exclusively black girls, did go missing in Washington D.C alone. No, they are not all still missing. In fact, 190 of them were found unharmed. 21 of those 200 are still missing. 10 of that batch, black teenage girls. Currently, there are 41 open missing persons in Washington DC, 11 of them black teenage girls.This information can be found, on DC’s metropolitan Police Department website.

Still, the simple fact remains: girls are going missing at an alarming rate and until now there has been zero coverage. With a situation like this it’s easy to get swept up in the cynical idea that the world is not as friendly as once imagined, and no better outlet reflected this than Twitter. On social media, talks regarding the sex trade, as well as human organ trafficking erupted. Most recently, one user coined a very elaborate theory which claimed that these girls could potentially be caught up in the “the buying and selling of human parts.” This user intertwined facts from a news storyfrom 2013 in which a medical professional was illegally trading human cadaver parts meant for research at the University of Michigan's anatomical donation program.

With all these theories floating around, here is a detailed and factual list of what has proven to be true and what we know regarding the missing girls.

The first point.

1. What Is Happening?

Chanel Dickerson, commander of the D.C. Police’s Youth and Family services Division, states that the increase in reports is not due to an uptick in cases, but just better reporting by the families of the girls. There are currently 64,000 women and girls of color reported missing in the United States. According to the Black and Missing Foundation, about 37 percent of all missing Black American’s are 17 or younger. It’s important to note here that these numbers fluctuate. In D.C a family isn’t required to wait 48 hours to report someone as “Missing”. This means, that, if a child doesn’t return home at the time when they are expected, the parent can report the child missing immediately. When these reports are filed, if the person is under the age of 18, they are filed as “Critical Missing”. The majority of these cases, however, are filed under runaway. Under the eyes of the law a “runaway” is defined as:

“...a minor who is reported missing because his\her whereabouts are unknown to the child's legal custodian, the circumstances of whose absence indicate that the child voluntarily left the care and control of his legal custodian without the custodian's consent and without intent to return”

While this definition may seem black and white, it isn’t. A child who leaves home because they are experiencing abuse may also be classified as a runaway.

“ If the officer has reasonable cause to believe that the minor has experienced physical or sexual abuse in the parent's or guardian's household. It may also be possible to take the minor to a nearby location agreed to by the minor's parent or guardian if the parent or guardian does not consent to return of the minor. The minor might also be taken to an office specified by the Department of Health and Social Services, a program for runaway minors, or a shelter for runaways that agrees to shelter the minor.”

This information can be found here.

2. Is it sex trafficking?

While Washington D.C does have a sex trafficking problem, D.C police believe that a lot of these girls left on their own accord. Regarding the girls who are victims of sex trafficking, It is believed by Sharece Crawford, an Advisory Neighborhood Commission member in Washington, that the girls are getting involved with gangs, and from there being forced into prostitution. Girls Educational & Mentoring Services (GEMS), a nonprofit that provides services to teen survivors of commercial sexual exploitation and domestic trafficking, reports that 85 percent of victims are female, 75 percent were involved with child welfare services and/or foster care, 70%-90% have a history of sexual abuse, and in 2015 94 percent of their clients were girls of color. Regardless of how these cases occur, the narrative is clear: black girls are at risk.

3. Why is the media not reporting ?

National attention began with Kennedi High. Like countless others, our writers at Syndicate caught wind of this situation via Twitter. While Twitter can be a great source of news, it isn’t the most reliable source of information concerning these issues. If the story wasn’t relevant to our editor, a black women, would she have heard about it at all? People of color know the answer.

Stephanie Mimsperkins left this comment on an article from earlier this month regarding these missing girls . Her anger can be attributed to the fact that the media has provided more coverage of missing white children than any child of color. Despite minority children making up 65% of all non-family abductions, according to the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

Another reason there isn't as much media coverage about missing girls of color is due to the assumption that the girls are runaways. While this tends to be the case for some girls, it is NOT the case for every child and should not be treated as such. Natalie Wilson, co-founder of the Black and Missing Foundation, said in a 2014 interview, “The media tends to classify [Black] missing individuals as runaways or law enforcement does. So then, there isn’t any media coverage [and] there isn’t an AMBER Alert for the missing individual.” American police have a history of labeling missing children as runaways when they had actually been abducted. This happened in the 1980s case of Johnny Gosch, a white 12 year old boy from a well off family whose privilege couldn't save him from gross police negligence. However, the proportion of “runaway” cases regarding people of color is vast despite there being little evidence that would classify them as such. With the amount of reporting being whittled down to the bare minimum, leaving us to ask “Who is reporting on this issue?”

Organizations such as the Black and Missing Foundation have an archive of open and cold cases of reported missing black people. This includes a description of the person, the area in which they were last seen, how long they have been missing, and how old they would be now. Also, websites of local police departments should feature a list of current missing persons.

The steps in how to make this the information available are clear. However, it is unclear how one can inspire people to care.

4. The Luxury of Emotional Distance

The simple and disappointing fact is that the further removed a person is from a situation, the less they tend to care. When it’s easy to look away, you have no reason to invest your emotions or time into the life of a stranger. People relate to the people who resemble them, if you’re an older white woman enjoying your retirement in suburbia, why should you care about a brown girl who's gone missing in the inner city? This is not an accusation but rather a fact. The same goes the other way around. When people cannot relate, they cannot care, and as a direct result these missing girls become nothing more than statistics. This was mostly recently demonstrated at the town hall held by city councilmembers in Washington D.C on March 23rd. While the auditorium was packed, it was clear that the only people fighting for these missing black children were other black people. Not a single white person was in the crowd.

These missing children are in danger. It doesn’t require the consideration of whether it could’ve been your mother, sister or daughter. A person’s worth is not based on their proximity to your life. And the simple fact is, It’s not only terrible because it’s happening to girls of color. It is a terrible thing to happen, period. But the lack of coverage because it involves people of color, shows how little the media values black and hispanic life.

Some people care at an arm’s length. Sympathizing, yet still treating it as someone else’s problem, instead of a national problem that requires the attention of many different groups of people. It is often said “You’re in my prayers” but ask yourself if that is a testament to the power of prayer or a means of self soothing so issues can be forgotten about since technically you did your part.

We have all at one time or another waited for a personal connection to be the motivation that will to bring about change. Perhaps you still haven’t made the connection, or maybe you’ve chosen to turn a blind eye to the issue, but at least now you are no longer ignorant to these facts. This has been brought to your attention and you now have the responsibility to help someone else. No matter how small, (sharing a post), or how big, (volunteering to help at risk youth)--do your part. What will no longer suffice is ignoring the problem.

5. So what can you do?

Familiarize yourself with these faces. If you see something is amiss, use your judgment and alert the proper authorities. Check facts before you retweet, reblog, re-whatever. The worst thing that can happen to the children that are actually missing is to be drowned by falsehoods and “click- baity” stories and theories.

#culture #oped #politics #writing #blackgirls #black lives matter

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katsindiebookblog · 8 years ago

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Title: Vanished

Author: T.K. Leigh

Genre: Mystery/Suspense/Thriller

Release Date: February 7, 2017

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Recommended for mature readers due to strong language and graphic violence.

Rayne Kilpatrick has everything. A job she’s dreamed of since a little girl. The perfect house. And a man she loves and is about to marry… Until he never returns from a humanitarian mission.

Gone. Disappeared. Vanished.

When footage of his gruesome murder by a Muslim extremist group is shown across the country and around the globe, she wants the person responsible for the disappearance of the man she loves to pay. She wants him to lose the one person who means the world to him, too, and she won’t stop until he does.

Alexander Burnham has everything… Finally. A job he enjoys where he can actually make a difference in the world. The perfect woman who he’s loved his entire life. And the most beautiful daughter a father could ask for… Until he walks into her bedroom one morning to find it empty.

Gone. Disappeared. Vanished.

It’s a race against the clock for Alexander to put the pieces together and find out who has taken his daughter and what they want from him. As information comes to light, he is forced to bury the guilt he feels after losing his fellow team member and focus instead on finding and saving his daughter…

Before it’s too late.

Vanished can be read in conjunction with or separate from the Beautiful Mess series.

Review

Vanished by T.K. Leigh

Kat’s rating: 5 of 5 stars

*** I voluntarily reviewed this book, I gained no monetary incentives nor was I specifically requested to review the book, these are my honest ramblings and I hope you enjoy reading them – kat***

I will say this was a hard book to read in one sitting, I had to take breaks at certain points because my heart and throat and eyes couldn’t take it. Even as I neared the end, I had to go do something else as I was crying so hard I couldn’t see my kindle! and I will say the warning is correct, this is NOT a romance, it’s like reading an episode of Criminal Minds, the tension, stress of the investigation came over strongly in Ms. Leigh’s writing.

I have been a fan of T.K. Leigh since I met her in 2015, I bought her Beautiful mess series at the Readers and Writers Down Under Signing, at the recommendation of a facebook friend, Shaneen introduced us and T.K. was such a lovely person, very supportive and free with her advice for new authors. I am sad to admit that those books are still unread on my bookshelf! WELL NO MORE, I am making time to read them this month (Somehow) #bloggerproblems! (very carefully so not to spoil the books, I really hate opening my signed books to read) #Bookaholic

So I read this book blind, with no knowledge of the series. I think I am glad in a way because I went in with no preconceived ideas on what to expect.

At first I was thinking it would be a 3 – 4 star as I had a bit of a hard time relating to Rayne, I couldn’t understand how she had gotten so lost, that she would consider something so heinous. Even when I learned about why she was so low I couldn’t understand how she thought that Alex Burnham deserved what she was planning to do. As I read on I got more involved, the story started to give me my answers, but also would give me more puzzles to ponder.

I may have taken breaks from reading to do other things, but my mind was constantly trying to work out what was going on, what would come next and whether Melanie would survive.

By 61% I was hooked, by the complexity of the plot and as the clues for Melanie’s kidnapping were revealed the tension mounted.

As Alex and the Authorities try to piece together the clues to who has taken Melanie, Alex’s life and those around him are put under the microscope.

TK has done a very good job at expressing the anguish, the neverending torment of questions a parent would ask themselves if dealing with this situation.

I lost my youngest in a shopping centre when he was 6 years old, he was found 15 minutes later, but the agony of not knowing, the rampaging thoughts of what may have happened, my heart was so painful and to this day it’s as fresh in my mind and it was 20 years ago.

This remembered pain, well it came back in spades reading this book, I had a lump in my throat, at times tears, and a sense of anguish, as events unfolded.

This is a good book, but its dark, its tragic, but compelling and the emotions that come across the pages feels so real, you would think it was based on experience (god forbid).

But I guess that becoming a mother herself was all that the author needed to channel the emotion she would need to write this book. This book encompasses every parent’s nightmare. All I could think while reading this book was how I would cope in Olivia’s shoes. I tend to immerse myself into a story so, as I said and even now when writing this review I was getting choked up.

I could write more, but I don’t want to put too much in the review, I recommend you grab a copy and read it yourself (With tissues at hand).

View all Kat’s reviews

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Excerpt

This was no longer home to a fearless girl who had more love for Olivia than she deserved. This would now become a place of nightmares for her daughter. Would she ever be able to sleep in this room again? Would she ever want to sleep alone? Would she ever feel safe?

Olivia struggled to come to terms with what Melanie’s life would be like if she survived this. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this. Alexander wasn’t without his faults, and neither was Olivia, but Melanie was so young, so pure, so innocent. Now, at far too young an age, she would be jaded by the cruelties of the world.

Would she ever see her smile again?

Would she ever hear her carefree laugh?

Would she ever feel her unconditional love as she flung her arms around her?

Bleakness invaded Olivia right down to her core as she fell onto Melanie’s unmade bed. Sheets that were once warm from her presence had grown cold, and Olivia could no longer keep it in. She wasn’t just watching a made-for-TV movie about a successful, semi-famous family losing their daughter. She was living the nightmare. wishing with everything she had that this would all be over soon, that it wasn’t real.

“Wake up!” Olivia screamed, slapping her face as relentless tears streamed down her cheeks. She curled into a ball, the torment growing inside her becoming unbearable. It felt like someone was ripping her open with sadistic apathy, the pace languid and sluggish, taking pleasure from each strained breath she struggled to capture. Her skin prickled with the heat of a thousand branding irons. No matter how loud she screamed, it wouldn’t dull the pain.

“Wake up, Olivia!” she bellowed again, louder and more desperate. Nothing worked. No matter what she did, no matter how loud her cries, nothing would wake her from this nightmare.

Sobs wracked through her body as she fought for air. She tried to gain control over her body and tears, but it was useless. She was no longer in command of her own destiny. Even the seemingly innate task of inhaling and exhaling had become arduous and complicated. Melanie was her lifeline, her reason for living. Without her, Olivia’s heart gave out, her lungs refused to work, her body shut down.

Suddenly, a pair of familiar, strong arms cradled her, lifting her off the torturous bed, cocooning her in a shelter only they could provide. They comforted her sobs, giving her exactly what she needed. She cried into her husband’s chest, a hundred tears falling for every regret. No words were spoken. Lowering himself to the floor, he simply held her in his lap, wiping her tears, providing her with warmth in this cold, hateful world.

She didn’t know how many minutes ticked by as he remained there, silently assuring her with his presence that they would get through this, that everything would work out. Still, she knew they would never be the same. This had shaken their family to its core. There was no returning to the way things were before.

Olivia cried harder.

She cried for all the time she should have spent with her daughter instead of working tirelessly for one charity or another. She cried for all the times she told her no when she should have said yes. Yes, we can have pancakes for dinner. Yes, we can go feed the ducks at the pond. Yes, we can make Christmas cookies in July.

Exhaustion set in as her cries subsided and she closed her eyes. The last thing she saw before drifting off was Melanie standing alone in a dark room, a blank expression on her pale face.

Beautiful Mess Series

CURRENTLY FREE

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS

GOOGLE PLAY

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS

GOOGLE PLAY

AMAZON US / UK / CA / AU

B&N / KOBO / iBOOKS

GOOGLE PLAY

Author Bio

T.K. Leigh, otherwise known as Tracy Leigh Kellam, is a USA Today Bestselling author of the Beautiful Mess series, in addition to several other works. Originally from New England, she now resides in sunny Southern California with her husband, dog, and three cats, all of which she has rescued (including the husband). In late 2015, she gave birth to her first (and only) baby. When she’s not planted in front of her computer, writing away, she can be found training for her next marathon (of which she has run over fifteen fulls and far too many halfs to recall) or chasing her daughter around the house.

T.K. Leigh is represented by Jane Dystel of Dystel & Goderich Literary Management. All publishing inquiries, including audio, foreign, and film rights, should be directed to her.

Author Links

FACEBOOK ~ TWITTER ~ GOOGLE PLUS ~ PINTEREST ~ WEBSITE ~ INSTAGRAM

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Review:Vanished by T.K. Leigh #NewRelease #5StarReview @givemebooksblog and @tk_leigh Title: Vanished Author: T.K. Leigh Genre: Mystery/Suspense/Thriller Release Date: February 7, 2017 Book Links 99c for release day only AMAZON…

#5 Stars #Crime Thriller #review #Suspense

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