#yeah this chapter singlehandedly destroyed me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

arlingtonpark · 4 years ago

Text

SNK 137 Review

I can't unsee it.

-rubs temples-

Ok, I know I’ve been absent the past two chapters. I’ll get to why and what I thought of 135 and 136 in this post, but for now…jeez, this chapter.

It was badass and dumb and sometimes both at the same time.

Where do I even start?

-sound of pages being leafed through-

Ok, then.

I actually really like Zeke’s character. He is unironically my second favorite out of the cast.

When we first see Zeke, he’s in his beast titan form. He’s lumbering, hulking, unsettling.

He’s a titan that can talk. He’s a titan that can control other titans!

And he wiped out humanity’s second strongest with ease. I forget his name. It was Mickey, right?

Worst than that, actually. He ordered his titans to kill Mickey with all the gravitas of ordering a side of fries at McDonald’s.

Iirc fans were wondering if this new character would be the main villain of the series.

He went on to wipe out the Survey Corps at Shighanshina, and after that we learned he singlehandedly foiled his parent’s right-wing conspiracy when he was a kid.

Zeke was a mastermind who shouldn’t be taken lightly…right?

Welp, the more we saw of Zeke, the more obvious it became that he wasn’t actually all the impressive.

He wasn’t very good at being a warrior. Honestly, it seems most of his high marks comes from his unique royal blood powers, and the good will be built with Marley when he turned in his parents. TFW cronyism.

He foiled the restorationists plot, but really he was just an abused kid who wanted to get away from his parents.

He killed Mickey, but Zeke was a King Kong sized titan and Mickey was caught off guard and unarmed, so…yeah, ofc he won that fight.

Zeke has royal blood powers, but that doesn’t say anything about his intellectual prowess or anything.

The Survey Corps was wiped out at Shighanshina, but the circumstances of that fight strongly favored him. The Survey Corps were trapped in the city, so all Zeke had to do to win was sit on his ass and do nothing.

And he almost died anyway.

Levi got the drop on him because of his own incompetence. He let himself get distracted, which created the opening for Levi to strike.

Throw in his gullibleness towards Eren, his bumbling demeanor, and his totally emo philosophy, and the true nature of Zeke Jeager became undeniable: this guy is a fucking moron.

Like.

A real fucking moron.

And that’s why his character is unironically so great!

Zeke’s character is such a brilliant subversion of audience expectations.

We were all made to believe that this guy was a Big Fucking Deal through what turned out to mostly be circumstantial reasons.

In reality, he’s an idiot who’s been failing upwards his whole life.

Zeke got as far as he did because he’s really lucky. That’s all he has going for him.

I liked the more fleshed out version of his world view we got here. It is appropriately emo.

My read on Zeke has always been that if he existed in real life he’d be an extremely online philosophy bro, so seeing his outlook on life being effectively copy pasted from 4chan was just delightful.

Zeke is 2deep4(chan)u.

Life exists to multiply. All actions are explained by this singular drive. As such, life is hollow and we’re better off dead.

Imagine that is how you see the world.

Life sucks. It’s an existence of suffering driven by a desire to ensure more people are brought into this world so that they can toil away ensuring that yet more people are brought into this world to toil away ensuring people are brought into this world.

On and on and on and on.

To Zeke, this is the cycle of violence.

Not war which begets war which begets war, but rather life itself.

One suffering existence that begets another suffering existence that begets yet another suffering existence.

That is the context from which the euthanasia plan came from: it was an extension of this broader world view.

Everyone gets a dose of pain in this world, but Eldians especially get shafted. If anyone deserved release from this nihilistic existence that is “being alive,” it’s them.

Hence, Zeke’s plan to sterilize Eldians so they can die out peaceably.

…

It’s hilarious how easily Zeke is disabused of this notion.

I’m not sure if it works from a storytelling perspective, but it tracks perfectly with what usually happens when emo philosophy bros like Zeke have their beliefs challenged.

The emo bro will go on a self-absorbed rant about how nihilistic life is. For sake of example, let’s say the reason is because morality is just an opinion and nothing is objectively wrong.

The n the guy he’s ranting to will drop a critique on the bro so devastating that they’re left speechless:

“What about murder? Isn’t murder objectively wrong?”

Emo bro: -surprised pikachu face-

I swear to God this happens a lot. I don’t know if transplanting that into this pivotal storytelling moment works, but I sure as hell enjoyed it.

But, yeah, while we’re talking about philosophies, let’s look at some others.

Armin thinks there is beauty in pointless moments. Moments that are meaningful only for the people who partake in them. They’re an expression of the love they have for each other. Those moments are worth cherishing and protecting.

He’s right, but you know who also thinks that way?

Eren does.

Superficially, anyway.

When Eren starts rumbling the world, he thinks of his friends and the fun they’ve had together. He’s doing it for them.

Of course, he’s hurt them instead, but that’s still his logic, however deranged it may be.

What separates Armin from Eren is their sense of boundaries.

There are places that Eren is willing to push on towards that Armin is not.

For that, Eren thinks Armin is weak. All Eren had to say to him when they spoke at the restaurant was how useless Armin was.

Armin can’t go the distance. He can’t do what’s necessary. He takes options off the table too easily. He wanted to negotiate instead of seeing the truth that war was inevitable.

To Eren, that’s weakness.

In reality, it’s empathy.

Armin cares about people. Even people who hate him.

Eren doesn’t. If you’re his enemy, you’re dead to him, period.

Eren has no soul.

He may have slept under his enemy’s roof, ate his enemy’s food, and saw the good in them for himself, but he’s still killing them.

I don’t care if he’s crying on the inside. I don’t care how many times he said he’s sorry to Ramzi.

That actually makes it worse.

Eren made the calculation, the conscientious decision, that the lives of billions of people across multiple civilizations were worth less than that of his race.

Not even his whole race; just the subset of his race he was most familiar with!

Eren and Armin represent two widely similar, yet subtly different philosophies.

For Eren, the world is beautiful, but you have to do cruel things to protect that beauty.

The world is cruel because it is beautiful.

For Armin, the world is beautiful, but it is plagued by cruelty.

The world is cruel, but also beautiful.

SNK made the right choice. Armin was rightly depicted as the superior worldview.

(I have some gripes about how endemic the series seems to think cruelty is to the world, but we’re ignoring that now.)

Ymir is more of a wild card than I thought she’d be.

It seemed straightforward.

Ymir had been beaten and enslaved her whole life, so when Eren offered her freedom and treated her life a human, she sided with him.

That still looks to be what happened, but it seemed like Ymir also genuinely wanted to destroy the world with Eren.

The world treated her with cruelty, so of course she’d want to burn it all. Makes sense, right?

But Ymir, it turns out, is a lot more complicated than that.

She was beaten, enslaved, raped, hunted like an animal, and after all that, she still believed in this world.

She saw two lovers together, and that embodied what made the world worth getting attached to.

Those two lovers were her conquerors. Her oppressors.

She saw the love between two of her slavers, and instead of resentment or jealousy, she simply knew it was beautiful.

If people threaten his freedom, Eren wishes death upon them.

When Ymir is literally enslaved by them, she still acknowledges the beauty of their romance.

It’s a cool layer of complexity to add to their dynamic. They’ve been through similar shit, but they couldn’t be more dissimilar.

My guess is that Ymir is sympathetic to Armin and everyone came back to life through her help.

I know Armin Zeke the credit for that, but…that makes no sense?

Eren defeated Zeke when Ymir sided with him and he started the rumbling.

Eren, via Ymir, is in control, not Zeke, so it makes no sense for Zeke to be able to do any of this.

The only explanation is that Ymir broke from Eren and now Zeke is her new best friend.

…Yeah, this is the part where I talk about the bad stuff with this chapter.

The exact mechanics of how all of this went down is very underexplained.

Zeke being able to reveal himself like he did can be chalked up to Ymir’s power, but if it’s true this was purely Zeke’s doing, then…how?

How was Zee able to do that if Eren is in control? Why would Eren even put Zeke there instead of encasing him in crystal and keeping him physically close by?

This whole final battle has been very underwhelming for me, which is why I didn’t do a review for the last two chapters.

The premise is pretty bland.

The Alliance’s main opposition in this fight are mindless drones. The titans they’re fighting have no humans inside them, they’re just puppets. NPCs.

What drama there has been here has been the same fucking crap we’ve been dealing with for the past few volumes.

Yes, Mikasa, Eren has to die.

I know this is hard for her, but my patience has run out.

Eren told her to her face that they had to kill him if they wanted to win, and then when the Alliance is riding on Falco’s back, they make the final call to kill Eren and this is the face Mikasa makes.

Like this is the first time she’s heard it.

This is the face you’d expect from a child, not a grown ass adult.

That was the moment I became convinced Mikasa would probably die in this fight.

Her head is too far up her ass as this point.

She is utterly incapable of processing the obvious fact that Eren hates her.

Yes, he’s theoretically destroying the world partly for her, but he’s also deranged and too self-absorbed to see that he’s hurt her. He has no real regard for her.

It is beyond annoying that there has been almost zero progression for her character on this issue.

If by this point in the story, she had accepted that Eren had to die, but was still visibly coping with that, then all would be well.

What’s frustrating is that just when it seems like we’ve progressed past that stage, we learn we haven’t.

I also feel that a lot of the major beats of the fight were pointless.

A major point in the battle comes when Armin gets eaten by the Okapi titan, and Mikasa, Annie, and the rest have to rescue him. But Armin didn’t seem to be in any danger of dying, and him being sent to P A T H S was actually a good thing in the end because he was able to win over Zeke.

The whole deal with the explosives around Eren’s neck was also pretty badly handled.

You’d think the hard part would be getting the explosives to the neck and securing them to it, but nope. Pieck took care of that in a couple of panels, and the real meat of the fight is doing the very last thing they need to do to win.

It’s very tedious and contrived.

Instead of a fight that’s interesting because they have to wrestle their way through titans while carrying the bombs, we get a totally generic fight because the story breezed through the hard part and all they have to do now is push a single button to win.

But in the end that entire sequence was pointless because Armin decides to blow everything up anyway.

Jean’s shining moment?

A total waste.

Reiner’s shining moment...wrangling that worm thing?

Also a total waste.

Armin was going to blow it up anyway. There is no way you can say that Eren would have survived Armin’s explosion but for Reiner and Jean’s efforts.

It just defies all common sense.

So yeah, this whole battle was a pretty lackluster climax.

Looking to the future, I think this is it.

There’s only two chapters left, so we need to start wrapping up. My guess is Eren’s likely dead and next chapter starts the epilogue.

Tally-ho.

---

I made a post about all the character’s chances of living or dying by the end of the manga. I figured I’d update those death ratings here.

Eren: Likely Alive --> Lean Dead

Historia: Likely Dead --> Toss Up

Mikasa and Reiner: Lean Dead --> Lean Alive

Annie: Lean Alive --> Likely Alive

Jean and Connie: Likely Dead --> Lean Alive

Pieck: Toss Up --> Lean Alive

Zeke: Lean Alive --> Ded

You’ll notice I’m still rating most of the cast as having a significant chance of dying.

While I do feel that this is probably the end of the battle, I’m choosing to be cautious in my choice of ratings.

Mayhaps Eren will pull a come from behind victory.

Ya never know.

#shingeki no kyogin #attack on titan #snk spoilers #snk 137 #snk chapter 137

21 notes · View notes

mutalune · 4 years ago

Note

Hey! I hope November is treating you better than October! (Other than the first tuesday. It lasted like a whole week! Crazy!) Do you have any branching stories of your AU? Like would Izuku’s birthday phone call have happened in the original universe? What if Aizawa had a password from Nedzu so he could approach him early? That the time travel aspect of your fic was so ... ill-prepared? is absolutely fascinating. Finally, yours is so good that I’m even recounting it to Datemate! Ihopethismakesit!

first off plz tell your datemate that i said hi because that’s so fucking cute and i hope they’re enjoying the recounting

second off november is going MILES better than october thank you so much for the well-wishes <3

third off thank you??? for your kind words???? seriously appreciate it so much <3

okay onto the fun stuff - i don’t have anything written that’s branching off from the AU, but i have Ideas if you’re interested in hearing them!! (i’m gonna try not to spoil future things in my fic and not give too much away but i’m also Dumb so read at your own risk lmao)

izuku and his dad - AU vs OU

in general, the way i view a lot of the stuff with izuku’s dad is that if izuku had been even a teensy-bit more genuine with his dad in the Original Universe, his relationship with his dad would be way different than the Original Universe. i see the OU relationship between them as unmatured - Hisashi cared about izuku in the OU as well, but he never looked deeper into izuku’s life other than a cursory “oh he’s doing well, his grades are good, he’s healthy, he made it into the high school he wanted.”

and that’s because in the OU, izuku only had all might and his mom as role models. Inko gave him kindness and strength and determination. all might gave him hope and something to aspire towards.

all of that makes the wonderful being that is Canon Deku and i do adore that boy, but Hisashi does Not Like All Might and he wouldn’t be able to handle a tiny deku’s gushing over the hero that destroyed his quality of life. and deku hadn’t been socialized enough to talk about anything EXCEPT all might or heroes - a consequence of having no friends except your busy working mom.

so even if izuku had been open in the OU to a relationship with hisashi (which i don’t think he was, because i think without aizawa there to help him be confident, he would default to protecting himself and hiding and he wouldn’t have the safety of aizawa’s love/support to shield him from if hisashi had rejected him in any way - better to stay away than risk getting hurt and rejected by the only other adult that was semi-obligated to give a damn about him) - i don’t think hisashi would’ve been open to it himself

(i think i said this in an A/N somewhere but i have literally no idea of when AFO and all might had their Big Blowout Fight in canon, so for my purposes, it happened pre-fic when izuku was 6 lmao)

Hisashi has some amount of trauma from that fight - who wouldn’t after losing their sight and most of their face? - the same that all might does, even if we don’t see all might explore that very much. and as someone who has her own trauma, i know i go into “AVOID!!!! AVOID AT ALL COSTS!!!!” mode when i come across any kind of trigger.

multiply that by 100x because it’s Your Son who You Adore More Than Anything Even If You Don’t Know Him That Well Because You Also Have Family Trauma - yeah, i can’t imagine hisashi being comfortable with more than the bare minimum kind of relationship with his all might fanboy son.

SO THAT WAS A REALLY LONG WAY OF SAYING: yes, the phone call would’ve happened, but it would have been:

“hey happy birthday”

“thanks”

“how’s school”

“it’s fine. how’s america”

“it’s fine. americans, ya know.”

*awkward silence*

“okay talk to you next year.”

regarding nedzu and aizawa

honestly that’s one of those things i hadn’t even considered when writing this fic if i’m being honest. like the whole reason i started thinking about writing this fic was “how can i give aizawa a tiny izuku to protect and care for without killing inko or making her a Terrible Mother” because that was most of the fics i was seeing (which are all still fun to read don’t get me wrong but i like inko and i like writing women and i am a lesbian who Loves Women!!!!) and i just started writing and THEN made the plot and actual details fit with the first 5 chapters i wrote lmao

i think, though, that nedzu is such a wildcard. like i haven’t read the manga so maybe he’s more understandable in that, but it seems to me like his motivations aren’t very clear. he’s not really a dumbledore-type figure in my eyes - he’s not the general of the battle against the LOV, even if he has authority and has a position and has the intelligence, ya know?

he’s very inscrutable to me, and he has his own bias and own motivations that are intriguing to consider - but i can’t imagine aizawa trusting a past-version of nedzu to work towards the same goals he’s working towards.

like, aizawa thinks he’s logical. but at the end of the day, i write him as a “loved ones comes first, the world comes second” character. and whether he can admit it to himself or not, he knows that nedzu would put the world first.

and it would scare him that nedzu might see izuku (or any of his students, or hizashi, or nemuri) as expendable if that means avoiding the future aizawa came from. with nedzu being as smart as he is and as inscrutable as he is, aizawa could end up as his pawn towards whatever *nedzu* thinks is the best course of action, even if he was completely honest with nedzu.

this is something that i don’t think has come up yet, but aizawa *knows* he’s not the smartest guy. like he knows he’s not an idiot, but he knows that hizashi is WAY smarter than him, and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to beat nedzu in a game of checkers, let alone a life-size game of war.

i could see a version where aizawa gets all might’s help and has some sort of “i know this thing that you never told anyone else, i’m from the future, help” type of password, or i could see him doing it with just about any other pro-hero or any of his students, but i really can’t see a version where he would enlist nedzu first. i think he would want to set some of his plans in motion that even with all of his intelligence, nedzu wouldn’t be able to stop.

(does aizawa even have plans? no he doesn’t, which means he would wait to involve nedzu until he came up with a plan, but he can’t come up with a plan b/c he is Not a Strategic Thinker, so he keeps fixing small problems and saying that when he comes up with a plan he’ll call nedzu, and then he’s fighting the LOV singlehandedly because he’s a moron.)

aizawa isn’t a big picture guy, to me. he’s the best and worst person to send back in time because of it lmao - he’s the best because he is smart and sneaky and (if he had all of the right information) he would find the easiest, quickest solution. he’s the worst because he would be the guy who, given the chance to go back in time and stop someone from destroying the world, he would go “okay i’ll just kill that guy before he becomes a Big Huge Villain” and then not realize “oh wait that just means someone else will step in a fill the void and now i don’t know who that guy is so that’ll be harder and all of my future knowledge is For Nothing” (cough CHISAKI cough)

WOW THIS IS SO LONG i hope if you read it all the way to the end you enjoyed my babbling or at least didn’t hate it enough that you won’t ever open my fic ever again~

in all seriousness, thank you for your ask and thank you for giving me a chance to babble about some of this stuff because i have BIG OPINIONS and a lot of thought has gone into this AU and what the OU of my AU (that is in and of itself a canon divergence/AU of canon lmao) would look like. it was really fun to dive into this onto a medium that isn’t just another document on my google drive~

i hope you’re having a lovely november and if you do anything for the holiday season, you have fun with it~! (also plz feel free to stop in and chat more/ask more if you want to!!! i’m trying to be better about being on tumblr more often lol)

#shmoo92 #starlight fandom #starlight ask #starlight personal #you are a sweetheart and i had so much fun writing this ngl #hope this actually answered your questions i didn't really check to see if i stayed on prompt lmaooo #i could talk about aizawa all day tbh i Love This Tired Man

21 notes · View notes

sxypigeon · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 20 - Bolin tries to write a screen play and everyone has a bad day

Book 5 Absolution (a mostly canon korrasami story)

Things in the refugee camps have gone downhill, Korra checks on Kuvira, and Asami tries not to murder Varrik.

Chapters 1, 19

---

The scene: A dusty Earth Kingdom village on the edge of the Si Wong Desert - a sleepy tourist town in its off season at dusk.

Enter: Ting-Ting in disguise wearing sandbender wraps and clothes, looking for his informant. He walks down a side street and into the shadiest tavern, through the torn sheet acting as a door. The interior is crowded and smokey, just the way Ting-Ting likes it. He approaches the bar and says to the bartender -

“Bolin!”

Said earth bender turned from the window of the airship he’d been vacantly staring out of to his brother. “What, I’m here - yes! . . . Um, could you repeat that in case I missed everything you just said?”

Mako sighed and rolled his eyes from his seat opposite him, next to Jeong. “I asked you if you enjoyed your time with Opal, but judging by the look you just had, I guess I don’t need an answer.”

Bolin frowned at the pair of them as they shared a smug smile. “Of course I did, but that wasn’t what I was thinking about. I have this idea for a mover I’m working on-”

“Still?” Mako asks in surprise.

“Well, yeah. What with working on uniting the Earth Kingdom and then saving Republic City, I haven’t had a whole lot of time to work on it.”

“What’s it about?” Jeong asked with interest.

“Oh, here we go,” Mako muttered with a small exasperated grin.

A huge grin lit up Bolin’s face. “It’s about an ex-United Forces operative named Ting-Ting who’s on the trail of his kidnapped love Ivy. His arch-nemesis Dr. Razor took her as revenge for Ting-Ting’s last mission with the United Forces to shut down his illegal laboratory where he forced spirits and thugs to merge and become his minions. Ting-Ting’s research leads him to the edge of the Si Wong Desert where his former partner, Lee, is undercover trying to bust a smuggling ring among the sandbenders. All clues point to Dr. Razor using the lost city of Sobata in the middle of the desert as his base and the center of the sandbender’s smuggling operation.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of information. Do you think people will be able to follow along with the plot?”

“Sure, I mean, maybe there’ll have to be a voiceover explaining some of the finer details, but I think-”

“We’re here,” Mako interrupted.

Jeong smiled and shrugged, “Next time.”

“Yeah,” Bolin muttered, “maybe by then I’ll have a bit more of the plot worked out and not just the backstory.”

---

“What do you mean you took over an Earth Empire reeducation camp? Where are you?!”

Kuvira sighed tiredly and rubbed her eyes. The avatar, as usual, had chosen an inopportune time to appear. “Reeducation Camp 11, just east of the mountains and Fort Senlin.” She paused to yawn. “I helped the prisoners overthrow their guards and we currently control the camp and it seems like the Empire forces are unaware. Was that all - can I go back to sleep? It’s been a long two days.”

The spectral form of the avatar glared at her for a moment before worry won out over anger. “What’s your plan for the camp? Are you going to keep control of it or shut it down? I don’t think the prisoners will want to stay long if they have the option of leaving.”

She is the wettest blanket. No appreciation for taking over a camp singlehandedly, I see. “We’re working on a way to send some of the prisoners by boat to Republic City, others want to stay in the area and fight the Empire locally and reunite with their families,” Kuvira muttered through a yawn. “Seriously, I’ve had maybe three hours of sleep in the last two days. Let’s hurry this up.”

“Do you need back up or me to help in any way?”

“Other than going away and letting me sleep?” Kuvira ignored another glare. “Send a ship to meet the boat in three days.”

“What about the guards?”

“What about them?”

“Are they dead or your prisoners? Do they need to be moved?”

“No one has died per your orders,” she sighed. “I was going to destroy all of the camp except the cells and leave a few days of food. Someone will investigate if radio-silence goes more than forty-eight hours.”

“Okay, what’s after this?”

I’m working on that, but your pestering isn’t helping. Kuvira was quickly losing what little patience she had left. “If all of this works? Who knows, maybe I’ll open a tea shop in the middle ring of Ba Sing Se and retire.”

Korra looked ready to explode. “I’m trying to help you! We both want the same thing! I can’t do anything for you if you don’t let me in on what you’re thinking.”

“And I’m telling you, right now, what I’m thinking about is sleep. Now kindly disappear since that seems to be something you’re good at.”

---

This was a mistake. Why did I ever agree to this? This was one of the most important buildings in Asami’s entire company . . . and she was letting a known swindler and thief in through the front door.

“You know, I came up with something like this in a dream eighteen months ago,” Varrik said thoughtfully while passing an airplane large enough to hold two dozen people.

There is no plausible way this will end any way, but in disaster. “As a reminder, Varrik, everything in this building and in or around the surrounding complex is off limits to you and Zhu Li. These are trade secr-”

“Yeah, yeah. Zhu Li, did you remember to pack the pumice scrub? You know how bad my calluses get.”

Asami gritted her teeth, but maintained a smile for her employee leading the tour. He will steal at least one of my R&D designs. He’ll steal it, copyright it, and then counter sue me when I try to take him to court over it.

Varrik wildly flung his arm in the direction of his wife’s head and pointed, “Hey, is that the break room? Does it have a full kitchen? Top quality genius requires expertly prepared, well-balanced meals.

He’s going to drive me insane and I’m going to kill him . . . then I’ll go to prison and never see Korra again . . . or I could go on the run and maybe Korra could come with me . . . as long as I don’t have to live in the sewers again.

The group came to a stop just inside the break room while Varrik tested the water pressure and temperature coming out of the taps in the kitchenette. The tour guide, the head of the research building, approached her with a calm smile born from years of dealing with eccentric researchers. “Will there be anything else, Miss Sato?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Taka. That will be all,” she replied. She waited for him to leave before waving her guests over and addressing them. “I cannot emphasize this enough: everything you see here falls under the heading Trade Secret and cannot be copied or reproduced in any form-”

Varrik rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Asami’s shoulders. “What are you, a broken record?. I remember the forms your lawyer made us sign. She read them all out loud - it nearly put me to sleep.”

“You can never be too careful,” Asami said with a forced smile. Remember to breathe. Maiming him won’t make this easier . . . or will it? “Would you like some time to settle in or-”

“Heck no! Let’s get straight to business!” He stepped away, with a hand behind his back and a hand in the air, counting off what he needed on his fingers. We’re going to need three heavy-duty electro-magnets, five industrial spools of thirty gauge copper wire, multiple sheets of pure platinum ranging from 0.25mm thickness to 5mm, and a pot of black tea every fifty-two minutes.”

Asami attempted to unclench her jaw before answering. “Zhu Li warned - informed me of what we’d need. It’s all set up in the lab.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?! Zhu Li, do the thing!”

Asami watched the newlyweds practically run toward the ballistic R&D laboratory hopelessly. Maybe everything will go fine . . . and maybe the Earth Empire will spontaneously surrender and give up their super weapons . . . and just maybe I’ll come out of this with my sanity intact.

---

“Is it just me or do these people not seem happy to see us?” Bolin asked

Mako kept his head on a swivel. Everyone on their path hurried away as they approached. “They do not.”

“I don’t like this,” Jeong whispered. “Something must have happened while we were away.” She led the group down the dirt path between the rows of tents at a brisk pace. “Dad! What’s going on? What-”

Jeong was stopped in front of her family's tent when the boys caught up to her. The stricken look on the man’s face told them nearly all of the story.

Mako stepped beside the silent young woman and addressed her father gently, “What happened, sir?”

He breathed deeply and squared his shoulder, trying to hold his emotions in check. “My son . . . and at least two other members of the neighborhood watch have been abducted.”

“No,” Bolin muttered hopelessly behind Mako.

“Did someone see any of this take place? Are you sure they’re being held against their will?” Mako asked as he took out his notepad.

“Letters were sent to the families . . . delivered by young orphans we’ve seen with Triple Threat members.”

“This is my fault,” Jeong muttered in shock to herself. “I stole that weapon. I set up the watch. I tried to drive the Triple Threats out of the area-”

“No! You helped your neighbors!” Bolin insisted. “Everything you did was to make everyone safer. We’re going to get everyone back and bring the Triple Threats to justice!”

“Assigning blame isn’t going to help the situation,” Mako cut in, mostly to prevent Bolin from making more promises he wasn’t sure they could keep. “May I see the letter you received? Jeong, I need you to stay with your family while Bolin and I look into this.”

Perhaps as a sign of how distraught she was, Jeong simply nodded and headed into the tent. Her father sighed sadly once she was inside. “She’s tried so hard to help. Here, find the bastards and bring my son home . . . please.”

Mako met his eyes and nodded as he took the letter. “We’ll do everything in our power, sir. I’ll let you know when I’ve learned anything.” He grabbed Bolin by the arm and marched them back toward the airship they arrived on.

“Wait, aren’t we going to collect evidence and question the neighbors or stake out a . . .a tent or something?” Bolin asked.

Mako kept his face neutral. “The two of us can’t take on an entire gang by ourselves. We’re going to need back up. There’s a radio in the airship.”

“Oh, right. We can call for backup?”

“I hope so,” Mako muttered to himself. If there is any . . .

---

Thanks for reading!

#korrasami #legend of korra #mako #bolin #Asami Sato #kuvira

5 notes · View notes

storiesofsass · 5 years ago

Text

Warning: somewhat incoherent rambling

So I posted a reply to @marinaredwixi post about Obey Me.

But I don't think Solomon, Diavolo or even God himself is going to be the bad guy here.

Sure they all have a hand in the mess that's going on for their own interests and that's quite important and I have a theory about it but they aren't the ultimate villain here.

Then who is? And my answer is Lilith.

Now, why Lilith? If anything, she's been nothing but nice to us when we do interact with her, she's placed on a pedestal and from what we know of her, she's pretty great.

Now, I've spent too many sleepless nights playing MM and other otome/games but there's one thing I know and it's never to trust anything that sounds too good to be true.

All the information we have about Lilith comes from naturally biased sources. We actually know nothing about the true Lilith outside of the rose colored glasses of the brothers.

What we do know however, is that she's connected to us somehow either by ancestry or something else. (Personally, I think it's both)

She's dead and a ghost

She's kinda the reason for the war as far as we currently know. (She isn't however, the reason for Satan's birth and I stand by that. Lilith's sentence was the straw that broke the camel's back so to speak or not since there's something that brothers me about a certain Devilgram's story)

Everything else just sounds way too good to be true. I've read Belphie's Hatred Devilgram too many times and during the game of Guess Who her description read too much like a Mary Sue's

Someone who can say things that could surprise Asmo, gets along with everyone.

Someone who is kind and loves humans

But also a little mischievous

I rolled my eyes so hard at it but something jumped out at me during my 100th reread of the Devilgram.

Every description given except Belphie's to a point was more or less nothing but praise.

There's nothing that they mentioned that could be a negative trait.

Not even Lucifer, everything shown was practically laden with icing and sugar.

Now within the context of the Devilgram, it makes sense, as it was a dream of a memory Belphie had while talking to MC while he was still in the attic. A happy memory of a time where he actually used to get along with Lucifer.

Now, we are going to talk about an entirely different event, I'm getting somewhere ok. I have to discuss this before I can move on to the big picture.

Belphie as we know, is an unreliable narrator, mostly because of the rose colored glasses, mostly because he's manipulative.

So the whole argument with Lucifer and how Belphie got in the attic can only be told by one other person.

Lucifer.

But he's also an unreliable narrator.

Pride isn't going to let him tell the version of the story that makes him look bad and he didn't, maybe it was because I read the Unspoken Feelings Devilgram before reaching that chapter but Belphie's behavior in both stories don't match up with each other.

In Lucifer's story, Belphie is confrontational and looking for a fight

In the Devilgram, while initially confrontational, Belphie cools off by the end.

Let's say he gets locked up in the attic the next day, he wouldn't have gone in guns blazing like that.

That isn't Belphie's personality and as we saw in the Devilgram, he wasn't in any state of rage.

He only goes into a state of rage when he believes that Lucifer betrayed him by placing Diavolo over him (Belphegor).

Now this creates an interesting plot point.

The betrayal in itself.

We know that Lucifer's loyalty is because of the deal he made with Diavolo, the reason for his response is because Diavolo could and would do much worse and his hands would honestly be tied in that situation.

For many reasons but also for an important one.

The brothers, despite all the arguments, fights etc would always put each other over everything.

After all doing so is the reason they fell from heaven.

We see this in action when Beel finds out about Belphie being in the attic. When Lucifer attacks Beelzebub, Asmodues asks Lucifer why would he intentionally hurt his brother like that while looking hurt.

Beel also sees what Lucifer did as a betrayal, as he locked up Belphie against his will and lied to everyone.

It's essentially an unwritten rule that guides them.

So what happens when one of them is clearly the bad guy?

So about Lilith.

I believe that Lilith had a hand in manipulating Belphegor.

We had seen that she could

1. Interact with the brothers in their dreams (ie. Telling Beel in his sleep to save Belphie)

2. Manipulate reality or people to a degree (whatever she did in chapter 16)

Now, we know that she has been waiting for us, she tells us that, but for how long?

If she knew that we were special, what's stopping her from knowing what could possibly happen as well and pushing for a series of events that benefits her.

Belphie, already plauged with thoughts and a very rapidly degrading mental health status, edged on by Lilith to talk to Lucifer would lash out like that.

Something else to note is that Belphie is a night owl and Lucifer is an insomniac, that conversation could have happened mere hours after the first confrontation while everyone would be dead asleep. Explains why no one heard or knew anything. And the ending of Unspoken Feelings Devilgram being a discussion between Beel and Belphie before they go to bed.

Let's think of a timeline or reality where Belphie didn't go in the attic.

For starters, he wouldn't have made a pact with us. Being attracted to us is a bit uncertain tbh.

We won't have made the bonds with the brothers that allowed us to make the pacts either, outside of Mammon.

Every pact (except Mammon) we have made was a direct cause of Belphie being in the attic.

Levi's was because we needed the CD so we could distract Lucifer to be able to head into the attic

Beel, Asmo, Satan happened because we were actively looking for pacts with the brothers so we could free Belphie

Belphie did it as a love confession and you can't convince me otherwise.

Lucifer's was because of everything that happened, you had singlehandedly repaired a lot of the damage between the relationships of the brothers, you are essentially a replacement for Lilith and his pride hates feeling left out as much as it hates feeling like he's giving up control.

You would have had a mundane year and left provided that dear ol Belphie didn't use the opportunity to show his brothers how awful humans are and make your life hell.

Lilith would have known this and would have gotten him temporarily out of the way, not only saving him from Diavolo but grooming MC to take her place.

MC is currently the new Lilith among the brothers but instead of being a cute little sister, they are the person everyone wants to fuck.

This creates a strange balance among the brothers.

Sure they are all competing for your affections but the unspoken rule among them keeps them all in check as to how far they are willing to go to get it.

Great, now MC is the one thing that brings them together, wouldn't it be funny if something were to happen to them?

Let's go to Lilith's conversation with MC.

She mentions that she had lost her path back to the Celestial Realm and implies that she wishes to go back.

We know this is a bad idea as mere moments before Levi was talking about how pissed the Celestial Realm would be if they would found out Lilith lived and MC, now her closest desendant in terms of connection would have to answer the call.

Let's go back a bit more to when Luke was staying in HoL.

How did Luke know how to find the grimmore? We never got the answer from him and I have reason to believe that Lilith is the reason.

Timeline of events is as follows, MC and Beel put Luke in the closet but he disappears, when they find him again it's because Lucifer is pissed because Luke found the Grimmore.

My theory is that when they put Luke in the closet, Lilith took him to the coffin and with it the grimmore.

I mean both just so happens to be connected to our dear ol Lilith.

Lucifer would have killed Luke if Beel and MC didn't step in thanks to Mammon.

That would lead to the Celestial Realm not being very happy about it and would definitely lead to either a power struggle or worst case scenario, all out war.

So does our current scenario with MC becoming the new Lilith and the Celestial Realm and by extension the brothers in another case oh so finding out that Lilith is alive.

Case 1. The Celestial Realm after Luke and Simeon inevitably report back to Michael about their experience in the Devildom, does their own investigation on MC and somehow finds out they're the desendant of Lilith, they'll want answers and the brothers would now be threatened by any move the Celestial Realm takes against the MC and would react to anything they consider a threat.

Case 2. MC helps Lilith get back to the Celestial Realm. Again, the Celestial Realm wants answers but this time the brothers get to know that Lilith was alive as a ghost among them for so long. Now that they have Lilith back, they aren't letting her go again not matter what anyone says. MC may or may not be shoved out of the picture except to or especially by their chosen love interest.

Either way, same thing happens. A worse case scenario of war between the two realms.

While Belphie blamed humans for what happened to Lilith, Lilith blames the Celestial Realm and wants to have her revenge.

Note in both cases, the brothers would have no reason to drag humans into it and even have more of a reason to protect humans from being collateral damage.

But Niko, wouldn't that destroy the Devildom too?

Yeah. Remember the memory Lilith keeps showing us? The one where Lucifer makes the deal with Diavolo?

Everything is framed to make it seem like a really sweet moment. But I think otherwise, mostly anyway.

It is a sweet moment that also foreshadows what Lilith is using to manipulate her brothers 'I will do anything to make you happy'

And Lilith's reason for destroying the Devildom as collateral damage.

We all know Lucifer, he hates being controlled. And despite of the cute friendship that he has with Diavolo, Diavolo has all of the control between himself and Lucifer.

Lilith wants to save her brothers. Or rather that's what she thinks she's doing.

The destruction of the Devildom to her would mean freeing them from RAD, from Diavolo.

Then they would all be happy with her or her chosen replacement in MC. Even though Diavolo's plan in having all three realms together would be the kind of thing Lilith would have loved before the war.

Though one of the main themes of the game is about moving on from tragedy.

In order for them to truly move on from Lilith, they need to shatter the rose colored glasses they have on her.

What better way to do that than for her to be the villain?

#I started writing this at 11pm and ended at 1 #Niko's crackhead theories

83 notes · View notes

makeste · 5 years ago

Text

BnHA Chapter 239: We’re Fucked

Previously on BnHA: Actually it’s been two weeks, so I barely even remember. Let me just... take another... Ah, right. So Tomura brought it up a notch to Goth Level x20 and destroyed all of his Surplus Hands in a fit of independence, and Re-Destro was like “!!!” and then turned himself into a giant robot as a counter-flex. Meanwhile Gigantomachia continued to smash shit and also defeated Orange Leaf because lord knows Dabi was never actually going to get around to it. Compress called Ujiko and was all “hey can you please stop your guy because I’m afraid he’s going to smash us once he’s done smashing everything else,” but Ujiko was all, “listen if Shigaraki dies then he dies!!” But I’m pretty sure Shigaraki isn’t actually going to die. Re-Destro, though? He might be dead. Guess we’ll find out.

Today on BnHA: Nope, Re-Destro isn’t dead. So it goes like this: Tomura, who is now incredibly hot by the way, annihilates the entire fucking town leaving only bits of rubble, basically. Everyone is all, “LOOK AT THIS ARE YOU FUCKING SEEING THIS HOLY SHIT” and basically just watching in awe. Re-Destro chops off his own fucking feet so as not to be disintegrated himself, something which everyone is way too fucking calm about tbh. And in the aftermath Tomura stands there all “lol I won,” and RD is like, “yeah you sure did,” and I was expecting Tomura to be all “well anyways, [kill]” but instead RD is like, “HERE’S THE KEYS TO YOUR NEW ARMY” and Tomura is “HEY COOL” and SOMEHOW THIS IS SO MUCH BETTER AND WORSE ALL AT THE SAME TIME. Heh. Anyways where’s that comic with the dog in the house that’s on fire. That about sums it all up.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, but aside from that there are no changes, and even that was a rush job since I was late in reading the chapter this week. I basically have not edited this at all lulz.)

sounds like someone is about to get the official Gigantomachia Seal of Approval at long last! sure did take this boy a while to get accredited, but he kept at it! there’s a lesson there, folks. if at first you don’t succeed, stop sleeping for two months and then power-hallucinate your way to success

so we’re opening with Hanabata and his van! I sure hope this mofo is about to die, because mofos need to start dying already. I’ve loved this arc and we’ve had some really great times, but I never did have much patience for this particular point of any given arc. side villains need to know when to die. respect for Kizuki, at least she had the right idea

on the other hand we are being gifted with some pretty fun panels, such as this

wah, his shoes. heh

oh my god

did he slam into the van when it hit the brakes to avoid Tomura’s Destruction Radius. ouch

so he’s narrating about how some crazy shit is going down over where Tomura is. and that “our story was at a standstill, but now...”

listen, that “but now” had better mean that you’re about to de-standstill and wrap things up

-- holy shit

I’m not -- Tomura, what!?! you’re hot?! is it just me?? am I fucking losing it?? what the fuck. can you seriously just cut off anyone’s fingers and they’ll magically grow 40x hotter!? somebody count Aizawa’s fingers for me

shit. this isn’t even my normal aesthetic! Tomura you’re crossing genre barriers here. I can’t speak for everyone, but I deeply suspect that you’re appealing very widely right now

the moral of this story is, eyeliner. that’s it. that’s the moral

in other news, Twice shouting “hang in there, Giran!” speaks for all of us, I think, and he had better get a medal for being VIP of this fucking arc. and Giran, it’s good to get some exercise

so who is this monologuing now?

is this a flashback to All for One? or RD getting all philosophical as the countdown inches ever closer to his doom?

like, this could seriously go either way here. huh. full disclosure, I’m doing my best to speedread here since this recap is late, so I’m not taking much time to think real deeply or try and process every little thing this week

now RD is going “guh!” and failing to get with the times

yeah dude, we established this already. Tomura is doing a lot of things he shouldn’t fucking be able to do. because he’s awakening. you’re the one who fucking said it just last chapter. quit being so damn shocked

lol now he’s thinking “if I can just get out of range...” ha, good luck. does he even have a fucking range now

omfg. you guys

being on the villains’ team for an arc is so much fun. so nice to be able to shamelessly appreciate the senseless destruction

okay, not quite as hot now. but from the right angle, though. damn

anyways. he cray. we get it lol

now he’s shouting “I’ll break you to pieces!” all gleefully and, like. destroying the entire town, it looks like. possibly

okay but seriously I think he really is. he really fucking is, you guys

I’m simultaneously grinning at how badass it is and thinking in the back of my mind about how our actual heroes are so!! fucked!! once this arc is over and done with sob

like, hey Tomura, what was your overall goal again? destroy the entire world? oh, yes, right. and what exactly is stopping you, again? literally nothing but a handful of sixteen-year-old heroes in training? whom I’m deeply attached to? yes, that’s surely going to end well

sobbbbbbbb

we’re so. goddamn. fucked

also, when did RD transform back into his little guy form? why do I suddenly almost feel sorry for him. well maybe not sorry so much as I feel pity. though once again, weekly reminder that he invited them himself, and they probably would never have clashed had he not decided to start shit for absolutely no fucking reason

let this be a lesson to all other villains! if you’re still thinking the League is an easy mark now that AFO is ~out of the picture~, let Overhaul and Re-Destro serve as examples of what happens when you underestimate the new boy in charge

and when I think of it that way, it makes me want to warn Tomura not to get too cocky and make the same fucking mistake. AFO and All Might may not have much in common, but one thing they do share is a knack for choosing worthy successors. though I still think that in AFO’s case, “placeholder” would be a more accurate word

anyway so where were we. -- oh yes

I wonder how many pages do we need of Tomura cheerfully decimating shit and RD watching in terror. this is a manga-only complaint though, just to be clear. in the anime? this shit is going to be fucking amazing. Tomura cackling maniacally while the world crumbles to pieces around him. metal af

by the way I love how RD has gone pants-only now that he’s back in his Bruce Banner form

I really shouldn’t be complaining that this chapter is going by so quickly, given that I’m trying to race through it, but literally the next two pages are just more of the same shit

town: destroyed. RD status: defeated and pants-only. plots advanced in the last three pages: none that I can actually see

oh shit. wait

what the -- holy --

okay lol. nevermind. here I thought that was Tomura’s foot on the previous page. and I didn’t notice RD’s feet had been chopped off on account of I thought the BLOODY STUMPS OF HIS FEET were his shoes, I guess. despite the manga establishing multiple times that he was only wearing pants. I only pointed it out specifically twice myself. wowwww

just. I’m running on four hours’ sleep here but feeling pretty all right considering, so I thought I was doing pretty good, but I GUESS NOT lol. one of these days I’ll learn that if a giant two-page spread appears to be a waste, it’s far more likely that I’ve just completely failed to see some very obvious thing of critical importance

anyways. ohhhhh yesssss

[raises hand] me! I know!! it was him calling you up out of the blue and being all “hey come here I want to start a whole battle”!!

heeeeeeeh

god I’m living for this. the brief swell of pity is gone as quickly as it arose lol. finish him off boiiiii

OH FOR FUCK’S --

DID YOU GUYS SOMEHOW FAIL TO GET THE MEMO. DID THE ENTIRE TOWN CRUMBLING APART NOT CLUE YOU IN THAT IT WAS TIME TO HEAD IN THE OTHER DIRECTION

jesus. I would be impressed by their loyalty, except that none of them have given a fuck about the 100,000 hapless redshirts who’ve died fighting for them, so it seems pretty damn hypocritical for them to care so much about this one fucking guy. especially when his stupid plan singlehandedly destroyed everything your organization has spent their entire lives working for. in, like, an hour

anyway, Tomura is back to being hot again guys

motherfucker is fully aware of just how much everything is lining up his way right now. finally his childlike self-assuredness actually has some sort of basis in fact. you are exactly as badass as you think you are, sir. must be nice. you enjoy this; you deserve some nice things just this once before everything goes to shit again after this arc

holy shit, even Hanabata’s quirk is failing in the wake of that see-you-in-hell grin

I’m telling you dude, you should have been driving the other way. not that there’s any point now. enjoy your final seconds on this earth

LOL

“meaningless casualties” lmao that is the most pompous variation on “DON’T YOU GET IT, WE’RE ABOUT TO FUCKING DIE” I’ve ever heard

wow, so wait, is RD trying to beg for their lives now??

that’s a surprisingly classy move. unfortunately I’m fairly sure Tomura is going to show you exactly as much mercy as you were prepared to show him just a few minutes earlier. well maybe a little more mercy, since you were going to take your sweet time and he’ll probably end things quickly in comparison

anyway so now RD is having an internal dialogue with his dead great-grandpa about how Tomura turned out to be the living embodiment of everything they were fighting for

and actually, he’s not wrong when you think about it. which just goes to show you how deeply flawed their philosophy really was. there’s a hugely important distinction between “freedom to be who you are” and “freedom to do whatever the fuck you want, including hurting and oppressing others”

anyway, so in the end he didn’t ask for mercy. “I picked a fight with you and lost. if you mean to kill me, then get it over with.” well I guess that is still classy in its own way though

also, Machia is staring at Tomura and seeing this

which is an awesome visual, and I love that Horikoshi went with that instead of more internal monologuing. nothing else even needs to be said

-- !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HOLY SHIT

SDFSLDKJFLJS HOLY SHIT

yooooooooooo. oh shit

I did not see that coming. should have, probably. there was a lot of buildup to it in hindsight. Tomura and the gang started out the arc flat-out broke, and now at the end of things they acquire a company with precisely the resources they need. manpower, cash, and technological innovations. oh shit. oh shit

oh my god the look on Ujiko’s face. this worked out better than he ever could have hoped

pausing it here because I did in fact laugh and I love it. [pats]

this boy has a 5/5 intelligence score in the character databook. he’s a genius. nothing gets past him. his reflexes are too fast

aaaaaand that’s the end of the chapter. well, then. to reiterate: we are well and truly fucked y’all

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 239 #shigaraki tomura #re-destro #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #well that's just great #now he has an army *and* a hulk #on the bright side #having seen what this army is capable of #I don't think we need to worry too much about that particular new asset

207 notes · View notes

rewrite-the-wrongs · 5 years ago

Text

introductions / howdy, pardner

My first short story was about a fishboy and his human best friend. They battled a mutant piranha (whose name I think may have been Mutant Piranha, such was the monumental daring of my creative endeavor) and his army, who were out to destroy a mountain that held a whole planet together. The boys won singlehandedly, because scale was apparently a bit of a mystery to me.

This was the second grade. My teacher--who held me every day as I cried for weeks, confused and miserable and stranded in the throes of my parents’ divorce--understood before I did that I create to a ploddingly slow and steady drumbeat. A sentence is always so much more in my head than I’m able to let out, at first; I have to pore over it again and again, fleshing and flourishing (and often correcting) it, the same way I often have to reread paragraphs or pages or whole books to truly capture their meaning. In a word processor, this back-and-forth is as easily said as it is done; on double-wide ruled paper with dashed-line handwriting guides, the task is magnitudes more time-consuming, especially for somebody as messy as I am. So, while nearly everybody else played at recess on the sandlot and the jungle gym around us, a select few stragglers laid our reading folders on our laps and finished our stories.

My villain, that dastardly Mutant Piranha, found himself in prison at the story’s close. Awaiting trial, I guess; I never ventured that far ahead, seeing the big fishy bastard for a coward. “When no one was looking, he stabbed himself.” That’s the last line, stuck in my memory, not for its own sake, but for my poor teacher’s horrified face as she read my final draft there on the playground.

A mom volunteered to type up the class’ stories and get them printed and bound. For years afterward I reread that collection, always proud to have written the second-longest piece therein. I felt the weight of the pages, inhaled the tiny but acrid breeze that came from rapidly leafing through them. Knew it was a whole smattering of worlds inside, that one of those worlds was wholly mine, and I had the power to show it to people however I wished. Yes, I thought, I want this.

I’ve been introduced to writing many times over, by many people. Don’t get me wrong--I nightowled the first several chapters to many half-baked novel concepts all through my youth. But teachers have a way of showing a thing to you from new angles.

The first person to impact me as such was a high school teacher who was essentially given carte-blanche to construct a creative writing workshop in the English curriculum. The first semester was structured--you practiced poems, short fiction, humor and essay writing, drama, the gamut. Every semester after, the carte-blanche was passed on: A single assignment due a week, each a single draft of a poem or a minimum of two pages’ worth of prose. Forty-five minutes a day to work, and of course free time at home. By the time I graduated, I’d finagled my schedule such that I was spending two periods a day in the computer lab, and several hours after school every day working the literary arts magazine before I went home to get the rest of my homework out of the way and write some more..

My next big influence came in the form of a pair of writers who taught fiction at my university, a married couple. One had me print stories and literally, physically cut them up section-by-section as a method of reworking chronologies. Told me stories happened like engines or clocks or programs--pieces that meshed differently depending on how they were put together, rules that held each other in place. The other showed boundless confidence in me, listened happily to some older students who recommended I be brought on board for a national arts mag. They both encouraged me toward grad school, but toward the end of my junior year I began to stumble, and by senior year I was, to be frank, a drunken asshole. Time I could be bothered to set aside for writing began to dwindle. I limped through the editorship with the help of my extremely talented, utterly more-than-worthy successor--and come to think of it, I’ve never truly thanked her. Maybe I’ll send her that message, now that I’m feeling more myself.

On feeling more myself:

That drunken rage was brought on by a myriad list of factors, the primary ones being 1) I am the child of recovering alcoholics, and our inherited family trauma runs deep, 2) An assault that will likely be mentioned no further from hereon in, as I have reached a solid level of catharsis about it, 3) Some toxic-ass relationship issues, and 4) I was a massive egg and had no idea (or, really, I had some idea, just not the language or understanding or even the proper empathy to eloquently and effectively explore it).

I had a recent relapse with drinking, technically--a mimosa at Christmas breakfast at my partner’s parents’ home--but I’m not honestly sure I can call it a legitimate relapse. I’m not in any official self-help group, I’ve never engaged in the twelve steps or a professional rehabilitation. I had a very wonderful therapist for a few years but reached a point at which I could not pay her any longer and we parted ways--I miss her dearly, as she truly became my friend and confidante; she was the first person I came out to, and very well-equipped to handle it, lucky for me--but I’m still on behavioral medication. That tiny smidgen of alcohol pushed my antidepressants right out of my brain, and I became terribly anxious and angry and sad all at once, and briefly lashed out during a conversation with my partner behind closed doors. Not nearly the lashing out I’ve released in the now-distant past--more on that maybe-never, but who knows, as I am obviously a chronic over-sharer.

Frankly, I don’t deserve my partner. She endured my past abuses, told me to my face I had to be better, and found it in herself to wait for me to grow. She’s endlessly and tirelessly supportive of me. She sat with me to help me maintain the nerve to start this blog tonight. I came out to her as a trans woman just under a year ago, now, and I’m happier than ever, and we communicate better than ever. Our relationship is, bar-none, the healthiest and stablest and happiest I’ve ever been in.

So, naturally, I apologized fairly quickly at Christmas, and continuing where I’d left off at two and a half years, decided I’m still solid without booze.

If we’re all being honest, though (and I’m doing my best to be one hundred percent honest, here, though I will absolutely be censoring names because no shit), I still smoke way too much fuckin’ weed. High as balls, right now. 420 blaze it, all day erryday, bruh. That self-medicated ADHD life. I should be on Adderall and not antidepressants, probably, but it’s been a while since an appointment and psychiatrists are expensive, so I’m at where I’m at for now. Sativas help a lot. It helps with the dysphoria, too.

I don’t have a legal diagnosis for gender dysphoria, but tell that to my extreme urge to both be in and have a vagina. I’m making little changes--my hair, an outfit at a time, no longer policing how I walk or run or how much emphasis I put on S sounds. If I manage to come out to my parents sometime soon--and it feels like that moment is closer every day--maybe I’ll tell y’all my real, full chosen name. For right now, call me Easy.

Anyhow. My goals here are pretty simple:

1) Share words, both those by people I like/admire/sometimes know! and occasionally words I’ve made that I like. See the above screenshot from my notes app. Steal some words if you want, but if you manage to make money off some of mine, holler at ya gurl’s Venmo, yeah?

2) Discuss words, how they work, and how we create them, use them, engage with them, and ultimately make art of them. I am not a professional linguist, but I went to undergrad for creative writing, so, hey, I’ll have opinions and do my best to back them up with ideas from people smarter than I am.

3) Books! Read them, revisit them, quote them, talk about them, sometimes maybe even review them, if I’m feeling particularly bold. No writer can exist in a vacuum, and any writer who insists they don’t like to read is either a) dyslexic and prefers audiobooks or b) in serious need of switching to a communications major (no shade, but also definitely a little shade @corporate journalism).

5) I added this last, but I feel it’s less important than 4 and does not deserve bookend status, and I am verbose but incredibly lazy, so here I am, fucking with the system. Anyway: Art! Music! Video games! I fucking love them. I’ll talk about them, sometimes, too. Maybe I’ll finally do some of the ekphrastic work I’ve felt rattling around in my brain for a while now. Jade Cocoon 2′s Water Wormhole Forest, looking right the fuck at you.

6) Ah, shit, I did it again. Oh well. Last-but-not-last: This is obviously, in some ways, a diary, or a massive personal essay. I will sometimes discuss people, places, or experiences that have informed my work just the same as other people’s art has.

4) Be an unabashed and open Trans woman. TERFs, transphobes, ill-informed biological essentialists not permitted. Come at me and my girldick and prepare to be dunked on and subsequently shown the door via a swift and painful steel-toed kick in the ass. Everybody who doesn’t suck, if I screw up on any matter of socio-ethics or respect for diversity, please feel free to correct me.

Punk’s dead, but we’re a generation of motherfucking necromancers. Be gay, do crime, fight the patriarchy, and fart when you gotta. May the Great Old Ones select you to ascend to a higher plane and learn the terrible truths of existence.

Much love--

Easy

#writers #writing #creative writing #trans #trans woman #fuck TERFs #writing about writing #writer #my writing #diary

1 note · View note

odderancyart · 6 years ago

Text

Retribution

Chapter 4

First

Last

On AO3

Summary: A late night, after yet another unfruitful day with no work, Detective Edge Serif receives a phonecall from the countryside. There seems to have been a murder.

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Swearing, vaguely referenced minor Past Abuse

Note: With a small visit from @itsladykit‘s Twist because I love him

Soon, Sir Razz and his brother move to leave the entrance hall behind, but before they can do so, the door shrieks as it opens again, making Edge wince. Insufferable noise. A skeleton peeks inside. Their skull is cracked, and they have only one eyelight, which is the colour of pure gold. They’re grinning as their eye sweep over the room before they look at Mr Ashton, who nods.

“Take in the bags, Twist,” he says, and the skeleton – Twist – salutes lazily.

“Will do, sir,” he replies cheerfully before plopping outside again. His accent is difficult to place, but it’s absolutely American.

Edge takes a step back as Sir Razz and Mr Ashton exit, quietly catching up with each other, and leans against the wall as he pretends not to listen. All in all, he doesn’t learn much: Sir Razz lets his brother know about what happened to his husband, and he finds out Mr Ashton had apparently taken an unplanned ‘business trip’ to Europe after refusing yet another marriage suggested by Mr and Mrs Ashton. The Ashtons certainly seems to be doing quite well, despite the state of the country’s economy.

In the back of his mind, he knows he recognizes that name. Ashton. It rings incredibly familiar, but he cannot place it.

He hears Sir Razz quietly scold his brother as they disappear around the corner, followed by Blue. Immediately after, Stretch reappears just in time for the doors to be thrown open and Twist, carrying multiple bags, stumbles in and drops them to the ground. Stretch winces, but Twist seems unbothered as he raises a hand and waves eagerly.

“Stretch! How’s it goin’, darlin’?” he asks, striding straight up to Stretch and throwing an arm over his shoulder. Edge raises an eyebrow from where he’s watching.

Chuckling, Stretch ducks out from beneath his arm and goes to pick up the bags. At least, that’s what Edge assumes he is doing, but then he just stands among them without actually doing it as Twist catches up with him again. He glances the way the others went, and then toward Edge, a question in his gaze. Edge shakes his head in confirmation that he’s not going to tell anyone what’s happening. But he’s not about to leave either, unless they ask it of him. Stretch nods back.

“Just fine, considering the circumstances.” He turns to Twist again, grinning, and his smile is sincerer than any other expression he’s worn. He’s relaxed. “How was Europe?”

“Lotsa fun, France has a lot o’ great bars, and Monaco’s got th’ best casinos, but ya didn’t hear tha’ from me. Mrs Ashton would freak if she heard ‘er son went ta casinos. If ya ever can get time off ya should come wi’ us, sweetheart, ya’d enjoy yerself ‘m sure.” His grin widens, and he winks. Edge hums in consideration. Well, Mr Ashton doesn’t seem like he cares a lot about societal rules then, if Twist, who undeniably was some sort of servant, was as friendly with him as it seemed. Twist turned around, waving toward him, and Edge waves back in surprise. “An’ who’s this gentleman, sweetheart?”

Stretch’s smile grows as he gestures toward Edge, straightening, and Edge hears his voice change from the easy, natural pitch he had when talking with Twist to what Edge can only describe as his ‘official’ voice. “May I introduce Detective Edge Serif. Sir Razz hired him to investigate the murder.” Then the official tone suddenly disappears again, and he smirks. “Private detective and lover of cats. Detective, this is Twist, Mr Ashton’s chauffeur and unofficial companion.”

“Th’ lil’ burglars?”

“Yep.” Stretch plops on the ‘P’. “Rascals got into the house again.”

“Good, the darlings deserve some love.” Without warning, he twists around and hoists two of the bags off the ground. “Welp, better get these up ta Slim’s room, my bro’s waitin’ fer me.”

“You’re not staying?” The disappointment is obvious in Stretch’s expression, and Edge can’t help but wonder what kind of relationship those two has.

Shaking his head, Twist smiles. “Nah. Haven’t seen Blackberry fer three months now, an’ Slim gave me paid time off ta go home an’ visit ‘im.”

“I ca-”

“Detective,” a rough voice interrupts, and all three of them twist around to see Inspector Fuente standing in the doorway. He’s frowning, but gestures for Edge to follow. Stretch immediately stiffens, the humour falling off his face, but Twist only nods his head in greeting without dropping his grin. “A word.”

Blinking, Edge nods goodbye to the two servants and follows the inspector out, bewildered. Their footsteps echoes between the walls of the manor. “I thought you despised my mere presence here, Inspector,” he says dryly, staring down at the stiff-shouldered policeman.

“Yes,” Inspector Fuente answers shamelessly, glaring at him. “But Doctor Gaster was an important man, and Sir Razz’s family even more so, and this case must be solved. Chief Commissioner Bennett telephoned me and gave me orders to cooperate with you.”

“I recognize his family name,” Edge comments, hiding his mixed feelings on the new development. On one hand, it would be great for his career if he solved the murder singlehandedly, but on the other, it will undoubtedly be easier with Inspector Fuente’s assistance. If nothing else, it is undeniable that a detective inspector is more experienced with serious crimes than he is. “Ashton, was it?”

The inspector lets out a surprised laugh, staring at him in disbelief. He stops mid-step before continuing to lead him upstairs. “Yeah. You don’t know who they are? Sir Razz’s father used to be governor of New York. The Ashtons are one of the richest, most influential families in the US. You can see why this case is of outmost importance, and why you can’t mess it up. You’ll destroy both our careers with one mistake, buddy. Be careful.”

Oh. Breathing in slowly, to fight down the heat threatening to rush to his cheeks, Edge nods. Yeah, that’s right, he remembers reading about him in the newspaper. Then he stiffens as Inspector Fuente continues. Digging his claws into his palms until pain flashes through them, he sniffs. “I will do my best, Inspector.”

“Guess that’s all I can ask. We’re here.” Inspector Fuente stops outside a dark door and pulls up a key from his coat pocket. The lock clicks as the door opens, and he gestures for Edge to come in. It’s a study, Edge realizes, with a wall covered in photos of the crime scene and the suspects, and a writing desk full of papers and a typewriter. There’s a table with two armchairs by the wall, and a bottle of sriracha on the table between them. The wallpaper is pale golden with flowers on it, and an enormous window gives a grand view of the moors behind the manor. In the distance, he spots a village with a narrow gravel road leading that way from the manor.

Stepping inside, Edge steps past the desk, glancing down on the many papers covering it. Reports, charts, and one paper that in cursive letters reads Dearest Mother. He averts his eyes from that one. Reading personal correspondence without a very good reason is quite immoral. Acting as though he hasn’t seen it, he steps up to the wall covered in clues. There are pictures of all the house’s residents, with threads connecting them to different papers.

Papyrus Safont, born July 25, 1903 in Sofia, Bulgaria. Moved to London, England in 1914 with mother Vitoriya Dobromir. Father: Unknown, likely Spanish. Siblings: none. Because of his surname, probably. Edge had known a Safont in school, and her parents were from Valencia.

Razz Gaster, née Ashton, born May 1, 1905 in Albany, New York. Mother: Angelica Ashton, née Nelson. Father: Henry Ashton. Siblings: Slim Ashton.

Blue Fontaine, born September 9, 1905 in Bath, Great Britain. Mother: Philippa Fontaine, née Marley. Father: Theodore Fontaine. Siblings: Clara Fontaine, Stretch Fontaine,

Stretch Fontaine, born December 28, 1906 in London, Great Britain. Mother: Philippa Fontaine, née Marley. Father: Theodore Fontaine. Siblings: Clara Fontaine, Blue Fontaine.

Blinking, he puts a finger over the unknown name. Clara Fontaine. Turning to look at Inspector Fuente, he taps a claw against it. “The Fontaines have a sister?”

“Yep.” The inspector sounds amused as he pulls out a drawer, picking up a file. As he flips it open, he reveals a photo of a skeleton in a knee-length dress leaning against a bar counter, a bottle of whisky in her hand. “Clara Fontaine, born 1899. She eloped the year before Sir Razz’s wedding and is now the owner of a Scottish tavern in Bibawik, Minnesota together with her Scottish lover, Riley Johnson. To my knowledge, the Fontaines broke all contact with her, except the odd letter and photo she sends. She is the Fontaines’ great shame. Sir Razz has never met her.”

“So she has nothing with this to do,” Edge comments, and Inspector Fuente shakes his head. Continuing to study the wall, he nods slowly, turning to stare down at the other. He crosses his arms. “Very well, I will work with you. If you stop coming with rude quips about my background, sir. I’ve worked the skin off my bones to get where I am now, and believe me. I am not going back to the factory.”

Inspector Fuente sniggers before nodding, putting the folder back in the drawer. He leans back against the desk, grinning up at him. “Fair enough. Just keep in mind I’ve solved murders before, kid, and you have not.”

“Don’t call me that, I’m thirty-two-years-old,” Edge growls as a faint feeling of nausea rises in him. Pale images of a suit-clad man leaning against his cane, telling him to ‘Stop screaming, kid, it’s not that bad,’ as he’s clutching his bleeding, half-crushed arm flashes behind his eyes. He raises his hand, placing it protectively over the remaining scars, and pulls his coat arm farther down. Never again.

“Huh,” Inspector Fuente hums, handing him another file. “Fine. Here’s everything you need to know, and the Chief Commissioner’s order. You better read it all.” He fishes up a keychain from his pocket. “An’ here’s a key to the crime scene and to this office. Knock before you enter. I want to hear your thoughts on the case this afternoon.”

“And I yours, sir.” The word tastes sour in Edge’s mouth. “This afternoon, then.”

…

Before he can properly discuss the case with Inspector Fuente, there are two more people Edge needs to talk with. Preferably alone, so he hopes he won’t be interrupting anything as he makes his way toward the tearoom, after asking Stretch for directions. Behind a half-open white-painted door, he finds Sir Razz and his brother sitting in a pastel green couch, in a colourful room that doesn’t at all fit into the aesthetic of the rest of the manor. Not in the slightest: its walls are pale yellow, and the furniture – from the tables to the elegant armchairs – is all in white, metallics, and pastels.

He knocks gently on the door with his knuckles, and the two look his way as Sir Razz stirs his white porcelain cup. Even from this distance, Edge can see it has roses painted on. Today, Sir Razz isn’t in a dress, but rather in a suit that appears as though it would have come straight out of a fashion advertisement.

“May I have a word, sir?” he asks as Sir Razz met his gaze, and after a moment, his current employer nods.

“Slim, leave us for a moment,” he says before waving for Edge to come in. As he and Mr Ashton pass by each other, their arms brushing against each other for a moment, Edge can feel the other study him. He calmly meets his gaze. He has no idea why the other seems to size him up like that, since he doubts he knows of his background, but it doesn’t much matter, as long as it doesn’t affect his ability to work the case. He is very used to people disliking him: he isn’t a very likeable person. It has never bothered him – the people scared off were not worth his time anyway.

Sir Razz gestures for him to sit down, and sips on his tea before showing that Edge is free to take his own. After a second of hesitance, he does. It seems rude to refuse. “My apologies that we have to serve ourselves, Detective. Stretch is busy readying my brother’s room.”

“It’s really no trouble, sir,” Edge replies, feeling oddly relieved as he takes the teapot between his hands and pours himself a cup. After smutting on the tea, hot in his hand, he shuffles in his seat before settling into a somewhat comfortable position. “I’d like to ask some questions about the case.”

“Of course.”

“Where were you at the time of the murder, sir?” He watches Sir Razz carefully to ensure he isn’t offended by the implications of the question. He really doesn’t want to get fired from this job. It’s undoubtedly the best one he’s ever had.

Sir Razz stirs his tea some more, the silver spoon tinkling against the cup, as he stares out the window thoughtfully. “In our bedroom. I was reading: I bought the latest Virginia Woolf the other day, it was published just last month. The Waves.”

“And when did you realize your husband was dead?” The question is blunt, but Sir Razz doesn’t as much as twitch. He meets Edge’s gaze without a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

“When Stretch told me. My husband usually worked late, so I never wondered if he didn’t come to bed until I was already asleep. So around… eleven PM, I believe, Stretch came rushing into my room, telling me that Doctor Gaster is dead. He had gone to check on him, as he always does before going to bed in the evenings and ensure my husband did not need anything beforehand. The Fontaines are something extra. None of my servants growing up were nearly as dutiful and loyal. Then again, they are so very British.”

Edge hums in acknowledgement. So Stretch had been the one to find the body. Interesting. He’ll have to talk with him about that later. “And how was your relationship with your husband, sir?” A risky question, but one that must be asked. Sir Razz raises his eyebrows.

“My husband was… something else,” he says vaguely, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “I’m not going to deny we had our hardships, and it’s possible we got married too quickly. And admittedly, he had a sharp tongue, but so does my mother and I haven’t allowed that to bother me for years. But in general, it’s been safe and predictable. Wingdings did like routines quite a lot. He, too, was quite British.”

“Why did he come to America in the first place?” Edge can’t help but ask, curious. It seems odd for a nobleman to move to the only country he knows of that doesn’t have, or cares about, aristocracy.

This time, Sir Razz chuckles, and puts down his cup as it tinkled. “After the war, and after his doctorate, he decided he was tired of people valuing him for his heritage, and wanted them to care about his intellect instead – he was incredibly intelligent. His death is a huge loss for the scientific world. So he came to the United States instead, and bought Duskshire Manor.”

What a dream. Just leaving the place judging you for your birth to go live somewhere else. It is unfortunate Edge isn’t rich as hell and therefore can’t do that. “And no one else but you and your staff of three was around at the time of the murder,” he states, just to make sure.

Sir Razz nods. “Indeed. Which means one of us is the murderer and I truly can’t imagine anyone in my staff murdering my husband. They’re all incredibly loyal and kind people.”

“Just take a guess on who could’ve done it.”

After a few moments of looking thoughtful, Sir Razz sighs and leans back in the couch. “I’d say Stretch. Don’t tell Blue I said that, though, he’d be furious. And only because he was Stretch was the one who took the worse of Wingdings’ bad moods, and likely has since long before they came here to our country. Blue refuses to tell me, says it’s private, and I suppose I must respect that. Unfortunately.”

Well, Edge is happy to hear he isn’t the type to pry into his servants’ private life, at least. Nodding, he sweeps the contents of his cup and stands. “Thank you for your time, sir. I only need to speak to Papyrus now and then I have talked with everyone here, so if you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course.” Sir Razz gestures toward the door, before catching his gaze. His expression was unyielding. “And tell me the moment you figure something out, Detective. I don’t care if you have to wake me up in the middle of the night. Except if I’m in the bath, then send Blue to fetch me.”

“As you say, sir.” With a nod, Edge leaves the room behind, thoughts swirling inside his head. There was so much to figure out here. Whoever had committed the murder had basically committed the perfect crime. Almost. Because he knows he can solve it, and he will, and so, it’s not perfect.

…

Down the hallway, Mr Ashton sits in a dark red couch lining the wall, resting his head against the wall. His eyes are closed and his breathing even, so Edge lightens his steps as he walks past the other. Just as he passes by him, however, his eyes fly open and he straightens. Edge twitches in surprise, but turns around to nod. “Mr Ashton.”

The other stands up with one fluent movement, and grins, his gold tooth gleaming in the light from the lamps in the ceiling. In the back of his mind, the thought that the electricity bills can’t be cheap for the manor flashes by. ”Detective Serif,” Mr Ashton greets,, gesturing along the hallway. “Allow me to accompany you.”

“Of course, sir.” Surprised, Edge continues down the hallway, his footsteps joined by Mr Ashton’s.

They make their way the entire way downstairs, the other’s presence quiet and somewhat ominous, before Mr Ashton suddenly speaks up. “Have you solved many cases, Detective?”

The question is casual, but it’s obvious what he means. Can you be trusted? Edge can’t really say he doesn’t respect that. You didn’t trust just anyone if you had anything of worth in your skull. Smiling sharply at the other, Edge nods. His hands are clasped behind his back as they continue down yet another staircase, down on the ground floor. “I’d say I have, sir. Not quite anything of this calibre, but I have found missing people, and once two robbers, home in Deadford, as well as a couple minor crimes.”

Mr Ashton hums as they Edge leads them toward the entrance to the kitchen door. He holds his breath as it seems like the other is going to say something, but nothing. Well then. As much as he hates small-talk, sometimes it is necessary. “I heard you’ve been in Europe. How is the Old Continent?”

“It was a whoope,” Mr Ashton replies, smirking. A good time. Outside of the windows, clouds have rolled in again, painting the world grey once more. “Ever been?”

“No.” The word comes out short enough that the other raises an eyebrow, and Edge sighs as they reach the door leading to the basement. “Even before the economy crisis, I couldn’t have afforded even the ticket itself, much less the costs of living. Sir.”

“Ah, that’s a shame.”

“Indee-“ Just as he opens the door, a loud crash cuts him off, echoing through the tunnels beneath the manor. It’s immediately followed by a scream.

#underfell #undertale #underswap #swapfell #twistfell #uf papyrus #us papyrus #twist papyrus #us sans #sf sans #sf papyrus #ut papyrus #uf sans #my writing #noir detective #mystery #murder #detective

10 notes · View notes

chronicbatfictioner · 6 years ago

Text

A Real Boy - Chapter 10

Mythical beasts are supposed to stay in the mythical realms, according to Jason. Especially since they're really not supposed to exist. Like, it looked like someone pulled out a JK Rowling book and conjure the most obscure and ridiculously named creature there was.

"I'm not sure if I have to be more concerned that you actually knew the name and specifications of that creature, or that the..." Jason paused his grumble to actually roll his eyes, "--Snallygaster actually exists and is flying in front of me right now."

"I'm..." Conner visibly gulped. "I know the answer of your question number one, but number two is... yeah. I'm absolutely concerned. It's solid."

"No shit, Sherlock." Jason snapped. "And it went through Rachel's soul-self as if it was simply a fog and dragging Cassie behind it. Shouldn't you be there and help your girl out? Like, maybe to make that thing hold still?"

Conner looked somewhere between mildly offended and mildly... scared. And if Tim wasn't feeling the latter, he would have snickered.

As it was his first return to San Francisco for the guys' weekly hangout was rudely interrupted when they saw a massive snallygaster flying over the city.

"This is not what you meant by 'wishes came true', is it, Jason?" he had to check.

"Oh, goddess! No! You can't wish for a made-up beast to come to life - let alone one as big as that. This is more of a rabbit-out-of-a-cat kind of magick. Only the rabbit has wings and the hat was probably... large." Jason replied. "Hold on..." with the last warning, he finally heeded to Tim's mental request to go and check what the creature was made of so that Tim could rearrange its molecules.

"I should help Cassie," Conner mumbled and flew to where Cassie was digging her heels - quite literally, to stop said creature from causing any more damage to the city blocks in front of it. Bart was busy removing people from its path, literally and physically. Rachel was busy removing people's memory of them, not the beast, per sé. Because it would be easier for her to visualize the five of them and pluck said images out of people's brain than a creature that was sure to make the evening news. State news.

"Okay," Jason was back by Tim's side. He, fortunately, could make himself invisible to non-magickal people and magickal people alike if he wanted to. "that creature was non-organic. He's made of fiberglass."

Tim cocked an eyebrow at him. "Seriously."

"Yep, would you like to taste a feather?" Jason replied, offering a single, arm-length feather to Tim. Without even touching it, Tim realized that it was, after all, fiberglass. He sighed.

"Bart, I need you back here. Cassie, Conner, can you make that thing stop for one second, please? Two at most." Tim called through their communicator link. "I need Bart to make a controlled tornado to amplify my spell."

"Strength." Jason corrected.

"Bzzz, same difference!" Bart exclaimed, already standing by Tim. "Whirlwind it is, you want it to expand just as it hit him, yes?"

"Working on it, and I'm starting to get pissed at it..." Cassie growled. "Kon, make it like that old Star Wars movie and wrap it low!" she ordered. Conner took her lasso, wrap it around the creature's legs, and gave her a thumb's-up sign. Cassie roared, and her eagle familiar screeched to form a bolt of electricity that Tim was sure could fell a few elephants and five rhinos. Still, considering the creature was the size of a six-storey building, it was... only shocked.

But the shock rendered it standing still for just enough time for Tim to channel his magick through the wind tunnel, small tornado that would amplify said magick by laws of physics.

"I hope Cassie's armor is not fiberglass..." Jason quipped, just as the yellow beam of Tim's magick started to envelop the creature. "What are you turning it to?"

"Dust. What else that's not dangerous to the surrounding area?" Tim snapped his reply. "And Cassie's armor was given by the Greek Gods. I don't think they do fiberglass..." he added as an afterthought, as Bart vacuumed the dust and deposited it into Rachel's soul-self, where it would then be teleported to hell or something; just in case it would morph back to the creature and/or endanger anyone who inhaled it.

"Cassie's armor, thankfully, forged through heart of a dying sun and was made from the hide of the Nemean Lion by Hephaestus. So no, magick can't alter it." Cassie replied as she landed by Tim's side. "Good thing it's a hot day. People would think they're heatstroke-ing."

"Yeah," Tim sighed as Conner and Rachel also landed on the same roof he was standing on. "This... yeah, we need to hold a serious meeting, guys - of what Bruce Wayne had offered me."

"Okay," Cassie started, but Bart cut her off before she could say whatever was on her mind.

"This serious meeting will still be held over pizza, yeah?"

"Bart!" Cassie snapped. But Tim hold up his hand.

"Yeah, yeah... Kon, card." Tim reminded. Conner handed the credit card to Bart, who squealed and zipped off even before anyone could say anything.

"Thank goddess I wasn't assigned to that kid... I'd be very, very tired..." Jason quipped.

"I get tired just looking at him go, and I can actually reach his speed..." Conner remarked. "Anyway! This is about the Bruce Wayne meeting last... what was it? Tuesday? Wednesday?"

"Thursday, actually, Conner. You've known me all these times and still don't remember that I only have Thursday afternoon free from classes..." Tim replied dryly.

"What about Bruce Wayne?" Cassie wanted to know. "Diana is frothing about him and I think she has a crush or something. Which is weird because Wayne is like... dense. Not Diana's type at all."

"Rae, can you get us back to the island, please?" Tim prompted. Rachel just nodded, and a thick black smoke enveloped them all. Tim's mind momentarily wondered and analyzed the difference between Rachel's teleportation smoke and Jason's. Jason's was white, thin, breathable, but singeing the eyes due to its lengthy linger. Rachel's smoke was deep black, thick like fog, cold when breathed in, and dissolved within less than two seconds.

"Don't think of how to replicate this smoke, Timmers, it's hell-related." Jason quipped, tapping his forehead gamely.

"I'm not! I'm..." Tim started, but sighed as the outline of the meeting room - a.k.a. the dining table - in their basecamp started to come to focus. "No, not the smoke. I just wondered if... I can't help wanting to know, you know." he told Jason, and Rachel, who looked at him quizzically.

"You have already decided," Rachel remarked, annoyingly able to read Tim's mind. Well, actually, she literally is able to read minds, only that Tim distinctly remembered that he had specifically asked her not to. As Tim glared back at her as she walked toward the meeting table, she blithely replied, "no, Timothy, I did not read your mind. It was there all over your body language." she paused and turned to look at Tim. "Not everything needed demonic mind-reading abilities."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine. I have decided for myself, that is. I'm... I've promised that I'm not going to sell the idea to you guys, but merely presenting it. Because I want you guys to decide on your own." he said. "Bart? You good?"

Bart, still on his commlink and probably about halfway to Nevada, commented. "Yup, I'm going to this amazing pizza place in Vegas and... yeah, you keep talking."

"There's a good pizza place in Vegas?" Jason mouthed, and Conner snickered.

"Okay, while we wait for Bart, why don't you start from the top, Tim. I got the feeling that this has something to do with you," Cassie decided, glaring at Jason.

"Hey!" Jason protested. "Well, kind of. But not entirely. It has more to do with Tim."

Tim sat down at the head of the table, inhaled deeply, and began. "Okay, yes. It did have something to do with Jason. But his part was just the push I needed to do something. It - whatever 'it' is - was started with my mom, apparently.

"As you all knew, my mom died while protecting my dad from this... insane voudou man called Obeah Man. But after my visit to Bruce Wayne's place a few days ago, I found out that my mom was not 'just' - quote-unquote - a hero for saving my dad. She was a hero long before that...

"Her job back then was to collect artifacts that are real and dangerous, and switch the ones in museums with fake ones--"

"--woah... a Real-life Lara Croft!" Bart quipped. The whole team, even Jason, groaned.

"Yeeeah, kind of. Only she's not only getting them for personal collection and stuff. Definitely not my family's personal collection. Instead she would send them to the Justice League via Bruce Wayne; where they would then defuse or destroy the dangerous ones. Wayne's job is to generally investigate those who had used or had been known to have owned or used, or has been looking for a specific artifact. He's assisted by the Oracle--" Tim stopped again as there were sudden screeching and slamming sounds coming through the comm-links. "Bart? You okay?"

"Pizza's fine, guys! So am I. I just lost concentration for a bit and almost cause a pileup!" Bart giggled. There was another collective groan. "Hey! The Oracle! I mean, isn't anyone else stoked at that? The All-Seeing Oracle!" he added excitedly. "Did you get to meet them? Can we go meet Oracle?"

Tim sighed, tried to pick up where he'd left off when something else struck him. "Okay, anyway-- wait, why are you so excited about Oracle? You know something I don't?"

"Just the legends!" Bart replied. "That they had singlehandedly dismantled the King Kobra cult without even being seen, and the King Kobra staff is in their hands even before the cult's priests knew it was missing. That the priests swore up and down that it was as potent as before the last time they'd used it, and it was like, a few days before it went missing and there have been no break-ins and whatnot." he ended the sentence as he appeared right in front of them with two large bags of pizza boxes. "Your card," he handed the card to Tim.

"Okay, wow... I mean, I didn't know about King Kobra or whatever that is..." Tim remarked as a massive slice of pizza was placed right in front of him. "Thanks, Jason. I usually would just wait until they get one before getting myself one."

Jason snorted. "From the pace of it, you'd be lucky if you can still snag the mozzarella remnants from the lid." he quipped.

"Hey! Some of us need a lot of calories, alright?" Bart protested semi-lazily as he practically inhaled his third slice.

"Okay, pizza's here. We've eaten. Tim, continue, please?" Cassie prompted.

"Right. Long story short, Bruce told me that he has had us monitored for a while, and knew that we've been trying to defend the city in our way. He offered to train us, especially in the physical aspects of what we do, so that we can be more effective and maybe would cause less property damage.

"The thing is, this came with Jason's warning that the future would be a lot more dangerous for us, the young ones in particular; and more specifically kids like us who are yet to either manifest their magick, or have manifested but did not have a place to train like we do. His argument is that if we can get like, professionally trained; we can be the fodder between the untrained new magis and the older ones and stuff like that. And if we end up facing something we can't handle on our own, we can call them for assistance." Tim finished the last two sentences in quite a record time that, if they weren't used to Bart's speedy speech-pattern, they might not catch on.

But they did.

"So they want us to be the JL's sidekick." Conner concluded.

"Partners," Tim clarified. Conner scoffed.

"Right. Since when would adults see us as equals?" he retorted. "Anyway, why would we need them? Aside of the possible emergency contact and whatnot? We're good on our own."

"I can't disagree with Conner. I mean, I love Diana and Donna with all my heart, but when it comes to mystics, they could be a hella hypocritical." Cassie agreed. "If I hadn't promised I'd keep everybody in check and focused on keeping the lot of us invisible, they'd have barged in here and like, drag me outta here kicking and screaming, probably."

Tim gritted his teeth quietly. Cassie had a point; in spite of her half-sisters being in teams of their own, they tend to be overbearing when it comes to what they perceived as Cassie's 'safety'. Never mind that she was almost as invulnerable as they are, or almost as strong and controlled. Or that she actually has a mother who could educate her on life in general.

"Rachel? Bart?" He tested.

Bart shrugged, "hey, I'm happy as long as I'm with you guys. So whatever the majority goes, I'm going." he replied. At 13, Bart was still significantly younger than they are, and could end up as a liability if he wasn't being fostered by another speedster, Max Mercury, who has a daughter who was older than they all.

"Rachel?" Tim asked.

"I see that Bruce Wayne is not the daft playboy persona he showed off in public. His mind has so many facets and turns that even I couldn't see - likely blocked off by his daimon. But even with my vote, we would be in a stalemate, Tim." Rachel replied in her soft voice. "How about we mull this through the week, and by next weekend, you can present some compelling argument or evidence why we should join them."

"Alright," Tim sighed and started to take a bite of his slice - two slices now, because Jason apparently got impatient and was kind of concerned at the speed of Bart finishing the pizzas.

"Alright, now we go do fun stuff!" Conner decided.

Jason was quiet, and it took way longer for Tim than necessary to realize that the quiet should have been seen as ominous.

#Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Conner Kent #Cassie Sandsmark #Bart Allen #Rachel Roth #a snallygaster #no-capeAU #JayTim #Magi!AU

9 notes · View notes

ingoldentent · 7 years ago

Text

The Christmas Flag

(A Christmas gift for Laurel @golden-witch. Hope you enjoy it!

For context, this is a modern AU the two of us talk about, with some details explained at the story itself. Some bits might seem out of nowhere for most readers.

Also, featuring Ange/Beato because I feel like the gays deserve it.)

“Ah, finally you’ve arrived! I was starting to think that you were planning to purposefully starve your dearest sister to deaaaaath!!”

“Good evening to you too, Beato.” Lion calmly replies. “Will got stuck on petting this one stray cat a couple streets down here.”

“More like saving our lives.” The aforementioned Will replies. “That was not your typical cat, Lion. I could feel in my soul as she stared into me- the desire to tear me apart while laughing at it.”

“Yeah, sure.” The blonde shrugged off. This was not the time to indulge into Willard’s paranoia regarding that one black cat with the blue ribbon. “So, were we the last ones to arrive?”

“You can bet on that!” Battler shouted from afar, for he was too busy fighting against Jessica in a match of Silver Mysteria to look at the arriving couple. Not the most festive activity there is, but the perfect cousin bonding method. If anything, it’s a good way to channel fighting urges instead of them bickering to the point of violence.

Beato claps her hands, nodding enthusiastically at Battler’s words. “Yes, that’s very right! C’mon, Lion, everyone, enough playing. It’s finally time for our Christmas dinner!!”

With that energetic call, the seven people at the house got around the table to celebrate the occasion. Lion Castiglioni and Willard H. Wright; Battler Ushiromiya, Jessica Ushiromiya and Sayo Yasuda (who was today in a more ‘Yoshiya’ mood); lastly, Beatrice Castiglioni and… Ange Ushiromiya.

It’s not traditional of Japanese people to celebrate Christmas the same way people do in the West. While here there’s an emphasis on family and presents and the figure of Santa Claus, in Japan Christmas is mostly a date for small children and couples. In other words, it’s not too farfetched to say that this holiday is like a second Valentine’s Day there.

Thing is, as an Italian family, the Castiglioni’s have kept up with the tradition of holding a family dinner every Christmas Eve, even after they moved to Japan. And the Ushiromiyas, as expected after decades of being under the rule of Kinzo Ushiromiya and his West loving ways, followed a similar vein.

However, none of those here present truly felt fulfilled with such a shallow reunion, where they’re forced to bear smiles in their faces while standing to listen to veiled insults to each other. Some felt the full strike of that, like Beatrice, the problematic princess of the Castiglioni’s who committed the terrible ‘sin’ of being born with a penis. Or Ange, the bastard child who would forever carry the stain of having her mother be a convicted criminal and not receive genuine affection from her.

Then you have Sayo, whose life as a servant to the Castiglioni’s taught her several things about grudges, pessimism and the obsolescence of the gender binary. Lion got it better than their sister - being the favorite among the relatives and having no difficulties in pleasing others certainly helped, but they couldn’t leave Beato alone in this one chance for getting a decent holiday.

Battler’s life isn’t that different from the one most readers are used to. The main exception being, he and Jessica managed to have quite the detailed discussion in regards to how to conduct a polyamorous relationship with their mutual beloved. They don’t want each other, though. That’d be gross. Jessica’s biggest worry today is this one extracurricular program her parents want her to attend after winter break and the fact that Battler utterly destroyed her in Silver Mysteria right now.

Last, we have Willard, who’s only here to accompany his partner. He’s not really that close to any of the other people here, yet somehow he always ends up as their collective therapist when things spiral out of control.

This concludes presentations of this curious ensemble, which was now reunited in Ange’s apartment for a late Christmas celebration. It might be a strange group doing a strange thing on December 26th, but hey. None of them really felt like what they got during the day proper really carried an air of ‘peace’ and ‘happiness’. Isn’t that what this holiday should be about, to begin with?

Upon Beato’s loud exclamation of Lion and Willard’s arrival, Ange and Yoshiya, who were busy preparing the last components of the meal at the kitchen, joined the group to give their usual aloof greetings. The Ushiromiya girl simply waved at them, not really feeling like talking. Especially to Will, who gave her quite a painfully needed wake-up call on her behavior, last time they met. She is doing better now, but the shame of that time still runs through her veins.

“Alright, then, what did you guys get to do?” Jessica approached impatient. “My belly is starving after all the energy I’ve spent on that stupid game.”

“You mean,” Battler retorted. “the energy you spent losing to me, ihihi- OUCH!”

“S-Shut, dumbass!”

“Hey, you two, behave!” Yoshiya quickly berates. “If you don’t join the table soon, the dinner will get cold.”

“”Y-Yes, love…” They bow down in shame and do as solicited.

“That’s right.” Beato nods in agreement. “The longer you keep on that stuff, the longer I’ll have to wait until I get to be preeeetty gay with Ange, you know~?”

“B-BEATO!” Ange blushes like an apple at that affirmation from her girlfriend. “Not in front of them, e-especially Onii-chan!!”

The group laughs at the scene. Ah, young adult life. The moment where your spirit still carries the passion and wish for fun from adolescence, but you’re forced to face the reality of responsibilities and sustenance. That makes creating moments like these harder and harder, which’s why they must be enjoyed to the max.

With everyone on table, the dinner finally goes on without bigger problems. The group discusses questions regarding college, jobs, money, plans and promises for next year. It’s not that unlike what they had with the rest of their families the previous days. However, getting to share their perspective in an environment where they won’t be judged for not sharing the same ideology as their parents was certainly refreshing. Not to count, you wouldn’t see this much sincere laughter at either the Castiglioni’s or Ushiromiya’s tables.

To that, Beato was really glad. Ah, it’s been months ever since she has had an evening this pleasant. Anxious fits about her body still disturb her even when Ange has proven to her, time and time again, that she isn’t ‘furniture’ anymore. Yes, that’s in the past. A new chapter in her life is about to begin, one that for once she isn’t dreading to start…

“Beato?” Ange’s voice cuts the blonde from her thoughts, making her drop the fork on her hand. “You’re thinking of something?”

“A-Ah, nothing, n-nothing!” To prove that, she proceeds to munch several portions of the food on her dish at once. “W-Was jwust admwired at wour cooking skwll, wes!”

“………………….”

Ange can see her just perfectly behind her cheerful facade, can’t she? Who is she fooling? She’s still damn terrified of this whole thing! A life with friends, with someone who loves and accepts her for who she is… Does someone as selfish and disgusting as her really deserve any of this?

Just as she was having those thoughts, a gentle hand suddenly starts patting her head. “Ah, Battler!”

“You’re in one of those ‘moods’ again, aren’t you?” He asks with a concerned tone. She takes a chance to look around the table and notices- everyone is staring at her, no? Oh, great. Now she’s made everyone worried. She was singlehandedly ruining the festive spirit! Oooooh, she wants to die right now-

“SO!” All of a sudden, Jessica slams the table with her open palms. “I think we’ve all finished eating for now. Why don’t we move to dessert?! I’ve heard that you prepared a delicious thing, didn’t you, Yoshiya-kun?”

“Did I- Oh, right! Yes, I did.” He nods, catching on what Jessica’s intention is. He coughs awkwardly, in such a way that it becomes clear to Beato what is just happening. Still, she’s glad. At least like this, she can let herself be drowned in her intrusive thoughts without bothering anyone…

“Beato. It’s me, Lion.” The heir says after knocking at the bathroom door. “You’ve been there for 10 minutes already. Y-You okay?”

No response.

“Beatrice,” Will joined in. “if you’re hiding because you don’t want us to get worried over seeing your messy state, I’m sorry to say that might not be workin- GHNK!”

“Willard, manners.” Lion cuts him short, fingers quickly retreating from his butt at a pinching pose. Still no response from the other side.

“Nothing, huh…?” Ange sighs, while the others watch the door from afar. They all agree that it’s best limiting how many people try talking to Beato when she’s having an anxiety attack.

“At least I can’t hear her breathing hard anymore. She should be coming out soon.” Will says.

“Tsk… idiot. Why today of all days?! These stupid brains of ours must be defective or something!!” Ange punches a wall in protest. It’s not like she can talk much, though. She had a similar crisis just yesterday, at the Ushiromiya mansion. Were Battler not there to take her to a calmer place, who knows what a scandal she would have pulled in front of the relatives. That’d be utterly disgraceful to her pride.

Speaking of him… “Oh, Ange, I have an idea! Bring up the flags already, instead of leaving it to the very end!”

“The flags…” Ah, yes. It had been an idea that she had come up with to make the two of them more comfortable with the season. Ange was never good at picking presents for others or at giving comforting words according to what they need, as Battler is. So, she thought, perhaps… something simpler would be able to express what she thinks of Beato and their relationship in a better manner.

And you can’t go more symbolic than with these flags.

“…Beato.” She knocks the bathroom door. “Why don’t we… finish setting up the Christmas tree now? I left the top of it to you, you know?”

She’s referring to a small, slightly broken tree that they found abandoned on the street the other day. It seems like even on Japan, people have been getting too much into Christmas trees recently, to the point where defective ones have been appearing on trash cans more and more. For someone like Ange, however, who detested getting in touch with any of her family’s richness, this was just the perfect decoration for the season.

A couple seconds pass, no response coming from the blonde. Looks like Beatrice isn’t up to even this, Ange concludes. Willard tells them to return to the others, but before they can do so-

*CREEEEEEK!*

“…………” Beato stands there, eyes looking down and hair disheveled. It’s not hard to deduce what she was doing inside that bathroom, but the others choose not to comment on it - for her sake… and their own. They simply smile at her, Lion moving to pat her on the back.

“Welcome back, Beatrice-sama.” Yoshiya greets. “Feeling better?”

“Y-Yeah, I guess…” She sighs. A hand of hers is over her chest. Perhaps she’s still feeling her heart beat fast, but at least her breath seems to be more controlled by now. Jessica approaches her and, alongside Battler, help her sit down on a sofa. Meanwhile, Willard goes get a glass of water to her.

“Drink it. Your body needs to stay hydrated.” He commands, which Beato attends without difficulties. In the meantime, Ange brings the small tree closer to her girlfriend.

“See? The top is still missing. But I’ve prepared something that we can put on it, together.” She starts blushing. “I-If you want, of course!”

“Ah…” Beato massages a temple of hers, as if guiding her consciousness back to the situation in front of her. “Hmmmm...”

“C’mon, it’s gonna be great!” Battler cheers her. “I bet that it’s gonna make you smile aaaall night long, ehehehe~.”

“O-Oni-chan!! Don’t give her that sort of perverted idea about me!” Ange huffs at him. That finally warrants a more elaborated answer from Beato - a chuckle, to be more specific.

“Don’t you worry, Battler. On another occasion I’ll make sure that your sister spends all night long smiling too~.” She winks at Ange, who by now looks like a tomato. Ange feels like jumping at her brother for starting such an embarrassing line of conversation, but manages to contain herself. It did help cheer Beato, at least exteriorly, so she’ll forgive him this time.

“A-ANYWAY!!” She coughs, then rummages through a pocket on her pants. “I-It’s not really anything grandiose or spectacular, but… I hope you’ll like it.” At last, Ange pulls the two flags out of her pocket, making them perfectly visible to Beato.

Her pupils dilate at the vision. “Those are…!”

On Ange’s hands, two small flags, enough to fit on an open palm, were presented. One had several colored stripes in it, a composition similar to a rainbow, except with only one blue instead of two. The other was stripped too, except with only blue, pink and white. It should be no mystery what they stand for.

“You want to… really put these on the tree… for everyone to see?!” Beato asked. Her voice was laced with apprehension. Not surprising, for putting those up would mean… to have pride of them.

“W-Well, yeah.” Ange coughs some more. “I… I love you, you know?” Her eyes darted away from Beatrice as she uttered those words. “A-A-And… I’m happy with what we are, who we are. O-Or, well…” She takes a deep breath.

Everyone else stays silent. They don’t want to break Ange’s willingness to speak like this. Battler in particular would know, considering his sister trained these words with him a couple days ago.

“Uuuuh, I’m… glad to have you as my girlfriend. And I don’t want to feel ashamed about that ever again.” Then… Ange smiles. A small, pretty smile that she rarely shows. “I hope… that you’re glad for having me as well. That’d be nice.”

“Ange…” Beato’s eyes begin tearing at those words. As expected, the other isn’t the most eloquent person ever. Still, her speech touched the blonde deeply. “A-ANGEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

Beato proceeds to tackle her in a tight hug, all while sobbing in an ugly manner. “Waaaaah, Ange… I’m… I-I’m so happy!! That, that you think of me like that…!!”

Of course, such a sudden display of physical affection - in front of others, even - isn’t the most comfortable scenario for Ange. But, well… These ARE her friends (or the closest thing to the term that she considers to have) and it IS Christmas (or the day after it), so… Perhaps she’ll let this last a bit longer… just this time.

The others clap in celebration. That’s when Jessica makes a comment. “Yo, guys, the marathon of horror Christmas movies on Channel Lyte is about to begin! Hurry up!!”

“Fine, fine. Let’s join them, Ange?” Beato asks. There’re still trails of tears on her face, but she’s trying to clean them.

“Y-Yes, we will.” Ange replies, a small blush on her face. So the group spends the rest of the night getting spooked or laughing at the screen, all while a small Christmas tree stands at the corner, two flags hanging over it.

#umineko #umineko no naku koro ni #goldenwitch #beaange #(Merry Christmas dear <3)

10 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 7 years ago

Text

The Powers That Be

TITLE: The Powers That Be

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Forty-Eight

AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki discovering a hidden mutant when he realises they are at risk of being found by S.H.I.E.L.D. who experiments on mutants, he is the one to help them.

RATING: Teen and Up

NOTES: Right so, I am using Irish mythology here, and what I have them say about Bálor is what is said of in the old tales from Ancient Ireland.

The Quinjet landed on the top of a drumlin, looking over the small valleys between it and the other ones surrounding it. Slowly, the Avenger's made their way out.

"So, according to reports," Stark got the different calls to the emergency services up on his mask and scanned them all. "Our slithering friends all made their way up the River Bann not too long ago and are now in Lough, Nee-ag, Nee…how the hell do you pronounce that?"

"Nay, it's pronounced like Nay," Thor informed him.

"How do you even know that?" Barton half demanded.

"Allspeak permits a speaker to understand the language as a whole, that is an Irish word with Irish pronunciation," Thor shrugged. "It is actually a very easy language."

We'll take your word for it," Stark commented. "Right so, we just need to…."

"Tony?" Rogers didn't like the way Tony ceased speaking.

"We're in trouble."

"Tony, could you actually say something of use?"

"In the lake, I can sense them." The team looked at Wanda. "One of them, I cannot read his mind, it is too complex, too dark."

"That will be the one we have to concern ourselves with," Thor commented.

"I think we have to worry about them all, what with three of them being three supersized sea snakes," Stark commented.

"They are nothing in comparison to him." Loki dismissed.

"Does this "Him" have a name, it's getting a little Harry Potter not actually naming him?" Barton asked.

"He has many names, but on this realm, there are stories of him that date back millennia on this island, he is known mostly as Bálor, the King of all demons, he has a single eye in the centre of his forehead, he is said to be able to bring about drought and blight and can destroy all in front of him with a single glance. It is also said no army can withstand the eye." Thor explained.

"Another story is that the eye is always covered with seven cloaks to keep it cool. He took the cloaks off one by one. At the first, ferns began to wither. At the second, grass began to redden. At the third, wood and trees began to heat up. At the fourth, smoke came out of wood and trees. At the fifth, everything got red hot. At the sixth and the seventh, the whole land caught fire." Hogun added. "There were said to be likened to the Jotnar, great enemies of the Tuatha De Danann, the old gods of this land. What they recall is the old battle that took place here, and the Tuatha were the Aesir that assisted them. There is a reason this is the Midgardian land of Saints and Scholars, the last standing of the written text on this realm for a while."

"Yeah, we get it, Ireland is great, we've seen the advert campaigns, so let's get to the part where we find out how to kill the cyclops." Tony rushed along.

"We are dealing with a creature that can set the earth of fire, there is very little we can do only hope we can kill the serpents before making our way to him, and pray he does not rise from his cave before we get there." Loki sighed, knowing the futility of their task.

"We're dead," Barton stated factually.

"Then we die fighting," Fandral shrugged.

"Indeed, but all beings die at some stage," Volstagg added.

"I never intended getting to old age," Stark continued, "And helping kill a super King Demon sounds better than the assumed alcohol poisoning that was the key suspect for it."

"So, now that we have established we are all stupid enough to die on this quest, we had best get going," Loki growled as they made their way along the valley. As it happened, he fell in step with Stark after a few moments, the billionaire looking at him from time to time. "Norns, if you have something to say, will you just say it."

"Alexia."

"What of her?"

"How is she?"

"Were you not talking to my brother of such matters already?"

"Yes."

"Then surely his response is enough for you?"

"You would think that, but Thor doesn't know Al like you do, she trusts you more than anyone else." Loki huffed at those words. "You screwed up?"

"None of your business," Loki hastened slightly to leave the billionaire behind him. "Why do you care anyway?"

"Pepper had a soft spot for her."

"Your other half? You ask for her? Does she even know you are here, or that I am to ask?"

"Fine, I miss the sarcastic brat alright? I miss her digging me out of holes with Pep, she was a good kid. I just want to know she is okay."

"She is settled and singlehandedly stopped the realms from falling into chaos once more."

"Yeah, Thor said."

"So, you can live for whatever amount of time it takes for Bálor to decide to kill you knowing that for the next four thousand years, she is keeping an eye on the worlds."

"Four...how is that possible?"

"She has eaten Idunn's apple."

"Idunn?"

Loki threw his eyes up. "Yes, Idunn. Idunn is a goddess who just so happens to possess apples that can give one longevity of life. Alexia ate one and as a result, can live for many years to come."

"Okay, what gives Reindeer Games?"

"What are you prattling on about?"

"You two were as thick as thieves, why are you snapping at her name?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Wait," Tony looked around and realised the others were too focused on their own issues to pay heed to him and the God. "Did you try some funny business or something?"

"I never did anything to her she did not ask for."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Loki turned on his heels and came close to the genius. "Alexia and I have shared a bed, on her request on more than one occasion, in fact, she was the initiator, is that clear enough for you?"

Stark's brows rose slightly at that. "And you are pissed at that why?" Loki's nostrils flared and he swallowed. "Wait…you actually like her," He realised, Loki's eyes widened, confirming his suspicions, "And she pushed you away." Loki turned and walked away. "No, wait, she broke your heart, hasn't she?" Tony's voice was low enough for Loki and Thor, who was the next closest to them to hear.

Loki went to put his hand around Stark's throat when he sensed something. "They know we are here."

"What?" Thor half demanded. "Not possible."

"Jörmungandr is under our feet," Loki informed him.

"I do not know what a Jörmungandr is, but there is one of the snakes beneath us," Wanda confirmed, her eyes telling her fear. "They are coming for us."

"What do we do?" Sif asked, looking to Thor for orders as he unsheathed her sword.

"We can only see where it surfaces." A moment later, the soil beneath them seemed to begin to tremble. Cracks began to form. "Scatter," Thor ordered as he rose to the air, Stark, Wanda and Wilson doing the same, eyeing the ground carefully.

"Where is it?" Stark checked his computer screen, but it could not track the movements of the creature under the surface.

Loki's senses were piqued as he kept his breathing steady to see if he could sense it, he could tell it was close, but could not tell where it would surface. What he sensed, however, was the ground seemed to be vibrating, and though it should be possible, he felt as though it was heating up. "What is he doing?"

"Loki?" Volstagg looked at him worriedly, "What is afoot?"

"Things most foul." Was all that Loki replied for a moment.

"Anything of more substance than that?" Barnes growled.

"You do not understand, Loki is not our closest of allies, but if he senses something is off, you listen," Sif explained.

"Always willing to use me when it suited, weren't you Sif?" Loki smirked.

"Is there a second meaning to that?" Barton asked curiously, the disgusted look he got from the female warrior answered that for him. "Just asking."

"Loki?" Thor landed.

Loki had gone silent before his eyes widened. "Run!" everyone did as instructed and fled in different directions. To Loki's terror, he realised what the large serpent was looking for, looking to the sky, he sighed and ceased fleeing.

"LOKI!" Thor watched in horror as the ground around Loki erupted, and he began to fall. Before the older prince could do anything, he and the others watched as the large snake rose from the hole, it's jaws snapping shut from swallowing the Trickster prince. Thor attacked with his hammer, and though he landed a blow to the serpent's head, the arrival of the others caused the Avenger's to become occupied with defending themselves, with Jörmungandr making its way back under the surface, towards the lake, the scrap of Loki's coat tail torn and stuck to its great fang as it did so.

#loki #other #submission #submitted fic #Wolfpawn #chapter 48 #the powers that be #discovering #hidden #mutant #risk #S.H.I.E.L.D.#Experiments #help

38 notes · View notes

thaisibir · 6 years ago

Text

Be Kind To Yourself (4) - Wanda-centric Infinity War alt ending

Chapter 4/6: Claws Fandom: Avengers Characters: mainly [Wanda, Vision], T’Challa, Shuri, IW cast Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Wanda’s remarkable feat against Thanos leaves her with crushed arms and stroke-like symptoms. She feels unworthy of the gratitude and medical care from Wakanda, because what hurts her the most, still, was guilt. Always the guilt.

You can also find & read it here.

Ch. 4 below, Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 5

Be Kind To Yourself (4) Claws

"Hard as it might seem, appreciate even the pain," Vision once said. "That's how you know you're still alive."

Wanda felt the pain, all right, now that feelings and sensations, the good and the bad, crept back into her left side. With the pain came restlessness. She had been itching to get out of bed and move around. Rhodey acted as her primary physical therapist. After all, he knew better than anyone in the Avengers what it felt like to lose feeling and function of half of a body for some time.

"Baby steps, Wanda," he would say. "Baaaby steps." He kept a gentle yet firm grip on her, linking his arms with hers, in case her left leg gave way and she fell over. Wanda's brow furrowed from the effort and concentration, her gaze trained at her legs and her upper body leaning on Rhodey for support.

"Come on," she mumbled to herself through gritted teeth. "Move, move."

Rhodey chuckled. "I know you want to feel like making progress, but push yourself too hard and you'll end up right back in bed. Like I said, baby steps."

Slowly and painfully, they made a round along the edges of her room before Wanda slumped back on her bed feeling like she ran a marathon. Every muscle throbbed and ached, but somehow it felt good. "Thanks," she said between pants. "I guess...this makes up for the time...at the airport...when you almost blew out my eardrums."

Rhodey gave her a wry smile. "That's a time I don't like to think about."

"None of us do."

"Hey."

Wanda and Rhodey jerked their heads up to see Tony at the door.

"I thought I'd find you here." Tony crossed his arms and frowned at Rhodey. "Where's my drinking buddy when I need him?"

The man called War Machine waved his hand at that. "Come on, Tony, Wanda needs me more than you do. Figured I could lend her a hand when she's going through the same debilitating crap I did."

"Yeah, no kidding." When Tony's gaze rested on Wanda, his face softened a bit. "That was amazing, what you did to Thanos back there. Wish I could have seen it. Up there on Titan, I fought with all I had, all the latest weaponry I developed and every trick in the book, and you know what I got out of him? A cut, and a drop of blood."

Rhodey shook his head. "You're lucky you came back in one piece, man."

"Damn right. That son of a bitch was no joke. But you," Tony jabbed a finger at Wanda. "And Thor...You and him saved half the universe from extinction. Debate's settled. You two are the strongest Avengers."

It took a lot for Tony, the Iron Man, co-leader of the Avengers, to subvert his own ego the size of a continent. Wanda knew that, and tried to acknowledge it, but stared down at her hands. "I don't feel strong," she whispered.

She wasn't fishing for compliments, or assurances of otherwise. She really felt empty and tired, far from feeling like the strongest Avenger. Maybe Tony was saying these things as his own way of trying to cheer her up, but nothing could lift her spirits now. Not since the first paprikash Vision had tried to make for her back in the compound.

Rhodey had assisted Wanda enough times to know without her saying anything when she wanted to be alone. To Tony he motioned for the door with a pointed glance, and the two quietly left Wanda to the flood of memories that always took her off guard, hit her hard, drowned her in that raw ache whenever the slightest thought of Vision crossed her mind. She had given up her own happiness, a future with him, her only anchor to the world of the living after she lost her parents, brother, and country. For what? For half of the universe that would never care, or know? Even if they knew, they'd probably say that was expected of her, anyway. Being an Avenger felt like a cruel, thankless duty. Wanda didn't know if she would ever pick up that heavy mantle again, even if she could one day.

Shuri was thrilled that Wanda was making good progress of her recovery, but for all the intellect Wakanda's princess wielded, she had no idea of the hurt and guilt that remained wrenched deep in Wanda's chest, like the shrapnel near Tony's arc reactor. Wanda did not expect Shuri to know, anyway, because she couldn't admit it.

Before, Wanda used to feel discouraged and frustrated with every neurological evaluation, but since regaining her left side, she was able to squeeze Shuri's hands, push her limbs against gravity, and give back proper smiles on command.

"Excellent," Shuri exclaimed. "Motor strength and coordination are equal on both sides. These are very good signs, Miss Maximoff. Very good, indeed. I noticed that Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes has been helping you get back in shape. Would you like me to send in more therapists to assist you, so that one man isn't doing all the work?"

"Rhodey-er, Rhodes is doing a great job on his own, and he doesn't seem to mind. He knows what it's like to be in my position."

"Oh, yes...my brother told me all about the 'civil war.'" Shuri tsked in disapproval. "He shouldn't have gotten caught up in that mess."

"None of us should have, Your Highness."

Shuri flipped away the charts and readings after perusing through them. "Speaking of civil wars...you're welcome to come down to the great dining hall and hear the retelling of the Wakandan rebellion tonight."

"Retelling?"

The princess winked at her. "It's more exciting than it sounds. Every story we tell comes with singing and dancing. You should come, if you can. We've never held shows for outsiders before."

As if Wanda needed further incentive to stretch out and move about some more. That evening, Natasha helped dress her into clothes fitting for a guest in royal presence, and Steve, being the gentleman, escorted her down to the dining hall. T'Challa had the Avengers and the Guardians seated near his table as guests of honor; soon the tabletops disappeared under plates and plates of food. Used to the small, simple meals in her room, Wanda ate little. Sitting next to Bucky, who had spent enough time under Wakanda's protection, she learned from him the appropriate words and gestures to politely decline helpings that otherwise would have made her very full and nauseated. She focused instead on watching the main spectacle: a spectacular display of color and movement from Wakandan warriors and shamans. Apparently, for the first time, they held this kind of performance in English, for the benefit of the outsiders. Tonight was about T'Challa's journey to be crowned king, the challenge to the throne, and his triumph. Everyone watching leaned forward at the edge of their seats, riveted by the songs and dances.

In the midst of all that, one thing stood out to Wanda. Okoye had singlehandedly turned the tides of the battle on Mount Bashenga, stopping further bloodshed among the splintered Wakandans as she faced down W'Kabi, with the speartip pointed inches from his face.

"Would you kill me, my love?" he had asked.

"For Wakanda? Without question."

Such fierce resolve, such loyalty to the greater good from Okoye, stirred something within Wanda that made her want to hide her face and crawl back into bed. Why couldn't she be like that? Why couldn't she be quick and strong enough to sacrifice anything and anyone she loved? Instead she dithered around and clung on to the notion of separating the stone from Vision. If only she had acted sooner...

Wanda's silence went unnoticed amid the resounding applause at the performance. But when Steve led her back into her room, he didn't miss how she slumped her shoulders and kept her head low.

"Are you okay, Wanda?"

She met his eyes and forced out a smile. "Just tired."

"That was a great retelling, wasn't it?" His arm, hooked around hers to provide support, felt broad and warm. "It's sad how the king had to deal with rifts in his family and his own country. I feel like we were almost intruding for getting a look at something so personal. But he wanted us to see that, and I'm glad we did. Wakanda's really opening up to the world."

The battle within Wanda continued, yet she was in no position to open up at all. She kept her thoughts to herself the whole way up the flights of stairs to her room, and only uttered a quiet thanks and goodnight to Steve.

That night she dreamed that Vision was pleading for her to destroy him, and she kept saying no, no, no, until Thanos himself came down and ripped the stone right out of Vision's head. His scream became hers.

Wanda woke up the next morning quite startled by the king striding into her room, flanked by his entourage of Dora Milaje guards.

"Y-Your Majesty, have I done something wrong?" Oh no, maybe they noticed she hadn't applauded as she should have last night...

"No, not at all," T'Challa said with a little laugh. "Actually, I came to ask if you are able to attend a special ceremony I will be holding tonight."

Did she really have an option? T'Challa did not elaborate on what kind of ceremony that might be, but Wanda saw no reason to refuse. "I...I feel well enough to go."

"Very good. You will be a very important part of the event. I'm happy to know that you can be there." Again, the king did not elaborate why, and left as quickly as he had come. Shortly after T'Challa's sudden arrival, Wanda ventured out and made her way into a drawing room where the Avengers liked to gather and relax when they weren't busy. She heard the word "ceremony" thrown around enough times in the conversation to figure that everyone knew about what would happen tomorrow. But not really.

"We're in the dark about it as much as you are," Bruce said to Wanda with a shrug.

"If we are invited by the king, we must look our best," Thor said. "That much I know."

"Should we go Wakandan traditional, or in our usual gear?" Natasha asked.

"I was told that either is fine, whatever we're comfortable with." Steve replied. "For me, it'll be the latter."

"I think it would be neat to put on the Wakandan robes," Sam said to Rhodey. "I mean, I don't know exactly where my ancestors came from, but it's still kind of a way to get back in touch with our roots."

Excitement and uncertainty colored their discussion, but in the end no one really knew for sure what would happen. As for Wanda, she grew more nervous as the sun climbed higher in the sky, than sank below the horizon. With the sun's descent, torches throughout the halls of the palace flickered to life and Wanda noticed that any Wakandan she passed by, even the doctors and nurses who had frequented her room, wore special-looking regalia that jingled with every step. In the drawing room, where she was told to meet with the other Avengers and Guardians, she noticed that Sam went out on his idea, after all, and Rhodey followed along. The two men looked quite dignified in flowing, colorful Wakandan robes. Next to them, suddenly Wanda felt improper in her long red coat and pants, boots, and arm bracers in black.

She was about to ask what they were going to do next, then a deep battle cry from down the hall made her jolt.

"Maers-ha! Ya hu hu! Maers-ha! Ya hu hu!"

M'Baku and his tribesmen marched in to flank the outsiders. Then he nodded at the Avengers and Guardians. "Warriors from the outside world, the king summons you to his court. Please follow me."

The Jabari tribe's entrance had cowed the Avengers and Guardians somewhat, and for some reason they quietly arranged themselves almost in single file by height. Being among the shortest, Wanda found herself behind Rocket, Groot, Natasha and the huge Jabari chieftain, who looked like he could snap her in two with his bare hands, without breaking a sweat. M'Baku seemed to loom menacingly over her, and seemed to notice her apprehension as he aimed a brief, assuring smile at Wanda before turning around to lead the assembly. The tribesmen maintained their flanking formation. Wanda tried her best to keep up. Though no one was pressed into a real military-like march, she was relieved that she didn't stumble or suddenly tip over. What would the king want of her and her comrades? Up ahead she heard the clank of armor and spears, and her heart pounded against her chest.

The Jabari tribe announced themselves again in their typical fashion, their cries echoing across the court that opened up before them. T'Challa sat on his throne, dark and impressive in his Black Panther armor, surrounded by his family and the elders. Warriors formed a wide ring around the court, as silent and solemn as their king. Then the newcomers disassembled. M'Baku ushered Thor and Wanda to break off from the rest of their group. The two Avengers shared a questioning glance but followed M'Baku nonetheless. Their comrades gave them the same expressions, but this was short-lived as T'Challa rose, prompting all eyes on him and the cross-armed salute from every Wakandan.

"My people, my family and friends, we are gathered here tonight to commemorate those who took part in the battle for our land, for our lives."

T'Challa nodded to a small group of Jabari tribesmen, who ushered some of the Avengers and Guardians forward.

"To Dr. Stephen Strange, Anthony Stark, Peter Quill, Drax, Mantis, Nebula, and Peter Parker, I give you arm bracers from the Jabari Tribe. You may not have fought on Wakandan soil, but I had heard that you stood against Thanos on his own homeworld, and I believe the stories. It would not sit well with me to let your efforts go unacknowledged. Please accept this hand-crafted Jabari wood and our gratitude."

Those being rewarded the extended their arms so the Jabari warriors could slip on the fur-lined bracers. Peter Parker bit down on his bottom lip to keep from bursting with happiness, and stared down in amazement at the white gorilla intricately carved into the wood of his bracer. Then they withdrew as warriors of the blue-clad Border Tribe came forth.

T'Challa went on, addressing the next group: "To Captain Steve Rogers, Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, Sam Wilson, Agent Natasha Romanoff, Dr. Bruce Banner, Rocket, and Groot, I bestow upon you robes from the Border Tribe. You acted as shields protecting our homeland, just as these robes protect our soldiers guarding the border."

The Avengers and Guardians, even the usually irreverent teenage Groot, bowed deeply as they received their gifts from the Border Tribe. There was an unspoken understanding among all of them over the magnitude of this recognition. Once the robes were draped over their shoulders, they rose to their feet.

M'Baku motioned for Thor and Wanda to step up next.

"Finally, to Thor Odinson and Wanda Maximoff, for your combined efforts to bring down the Mad Titan once and for all, I bestow upon you the greatest honor a king of Wakanda can give to a warrior: the panther claws." T'Challa motioned for Shuri and Okoye to present necklaces rimmed with gleaming, pointed silver, ones not much different from the claws set around the king's neck. "Once more, we are making history here. You are the first outsiders to ever receive this honor. Even among our people, rarely do the panther claws get to rest on a warrior's neck." Sympathy flickered in the Black Panther's eyes. "I understand that the two of you suffered great loss at the hands of Thanos. Despite that, you have demonstrated great strength and bravery worthy of the panther claws. Wear them with pride, my friends."

Wanda did not feel strong or brave, proud or honored. Instead she felt great shame. Okoye slipped the necklace around Thor, while Shuri did likewise for Wanda. The panther claws weighed heavily over her neck and chest, as if the claws dug into her skin. It almost choked her, made her want to rip them off. But she dared not. Not in front of the king and his people. Wanda said nothing and kept her head bowed, fighting back tears as Wakandans hailed her and Thor with a resounding show of hoots, chants, and spears drumming on the floor.

Wanda had no idea of what words they roared in unison, but she was glad she didn't know. She probably didn't deserve whatever praises and titles they shouted her way.

T'Challa eventually subdued this with a small lift of his hand. "I speak on behalf of all Wakandans of our deepest gratitude for your aid. We are fortunate to have such great warriors among us tonight."

The walls, floor, and ceiling of the court trembled from the cheers of all Wakandans. The Avengers and Guardians broke out into wide smiles and congratulated each other. Wanda wanted nothing more than to slip away unseen from the court, not in the mood for festivities. That proved impossible, as she received many friendly jostles and hugs and pats on the back and shoulders. She tried to meet everyone's eyes and return smiles, and finally came away feeling battered and bruised. Too tired to make it up to her room, Wanda sought refuge at a nearby balcony overlooking the city, and sank onto raised stone with shuddering pants.

She gingerly fingered at one of the many claws hanging from her neck, wincing as her thumb brushed against the sharp end. Now she wore three necklaces: one she removed from her mother's neck after their home buried half of her family, another she received from Pietro, and the latest a symbol of honor from Wakanda. It all felt heavy, so heavy.

#wanda maximoff #vision #scarlet witch #infinity war fanfic #mcu fanfiction #be kind to yourself

0 notes