#you're not helping anything you're only causing division

[totallynotsloughjykk]

controversial take but relentlessly insulting privileged groups instead of helping oppressed people does more harm than good

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 31: Trick or Treat

Last one! Took a little extra time but we finally made it! Hope you enjoy, this is a fun little something something for the Confused Spirit fans in the audience

Additionally, if you have not read Confused Spirit, many of these characters will have no value to you I'm guessing, so, sorry about that. There's also some slight, implied spoilers for the fic as well. That being said, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 6392

Content warning: mentions of blood, injury, and death, reader descretion is advised

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It's Halloween at the Plex, and you're, well you're not sure how to feel about it. You had to work, meaning your sister and brother are currently out trick or treating with Clara instead of you, which is a bit frustrating. Not to mention, you'd gotten all dressed up and had nowhere to go until you got off in an hour or so. 

You think a mandated Halloween party, on top of having to work on a project, wasn't a great combination, but with the glare Sarah had sent in the meeting last week to you and the other division heads, you didn't have much a choice. Have to set a good example and all that. 

At the very least, you weren't the only one dressed up, so you didn't look as ridiculous sitting hunched over a desk covered in green paint and fake stitches.

Your team all had various costumes on, differing in degrees of effort and style. Pete went classic vampire, Jesse was a mummy, and Tyler was a zombie. Liv was rocking a great Mia Wallace costume, and Savannah had on a witch hat but really went for it with her makeup look. 

Currently, as both a way to kill time and to potentially fix the problem you'd been having, you were all trying your best to fix the issues going on with Fazerblast.

Specifically, something had been messing with both the electric and the mechanical components of the entire attraction. While Lizzy and their team worked to determine what had been causing the random power outages, your goal was attempting to fix the malfunctioning laser guns and rogue staff bots. 

You'd tried to tell both Sarah and Rachel that the place really needed shut down for a few days to actually work on it, but no luck. Seems they wanted it open for Halloween, regardless of how bad an idea you thought that was. 

When your code crashes again you groan, tempted to run a hand across your face before you remember the paint.

"Frankenstein's monster was a good choice for you. You really sell it," Pete quips, sipping on a blood red slushy in one hand, still typing with the other.

You turn to him, eyes narrow, "Remind me why I'm helping you with coding again? When I could be doing literally anything else?"

"Gives him an ego boost," Jesse answers from across the room, "No offense."

You scoff, turning to the coworker across from you, "Figured as much. Savannah, any word from the company that sold us the trigger pins?"

"Not yet," She sighs, puffing out her cheeks, "But I keep checking the reviews and nobody else has had the same issues we've had here. They shouldn't be freaking out like this."

"Figured that much, too. Liv?"

She looks up and over to you, tired, dead stare on her face as she holds up the phone, "Still on hold. I'm guessing corporate left early for the day and couldn't be bothered to let everyone know."

You grimace, and check the time. It's after six now, the party starts at 6:30. That's more than enough for you at this point.

"Right. You know what, we're done here. Pack it up, we can grab food before the party because I know Sarah's going to be stingy about it."

With muted, half-defeated cheer, your team closes out of their computers and shuffles to the door. Besides Tyler, he's in a great mood still, but you expected as much. 

As you're grabbing your jacket and turning out the lights, you swear you see something out of the corner of your eye by your computer. Something purple. When you turn, you find that your computer is on again, login screen staring at you. 

"You coming?" Savannah calls from halfway down the hall.

You turn to yell back, "Yeah, give me a sec, just hold the elevator."

Slowly, you walk back over to your computer, giving it a once over. It looks fine, just turned on. You take hold of the mouse, and hover it over the shut off button again. As you click it, the screen freaks out, glitching before turning black. At the same time, a shock goes up your arm and you yelp, purple flashing across your vision. 

Dazed, you shake your head, and clutching your arm, make your way out of the office and to the elevator. 

You shuffle in, and as the doors close Jesse leans over and mutters to you above the chattering of your team.

"You alright?"

You nod, "Yeah, just, a little tired I guess." Your head feels funny, but otherwise you're fine. You think.

"What'd you do to your hand?" He asks, looking to how you're still holding it.

You let it go, shaking it off and letting it fall to your side, "Stoved it on my way out. I'll live."

He nods and you continue your ascent. But you can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. Your arm twitches and at the same time your vision becomes glazed over in a purple hue. You shake your head, and it's gone again. 

The upper levels are filled with activity. Kids rush from place to place, already tired parents in tow. The words 'trick or treat!' are echoed everywhere as children go from the different tables and booths set up for the holiday. 

If Lisa knew this was going on she'd have a fit that she was out going house to house instead of being here. But asking Clara to watch her in this chaos would have been cruel, and so, the less your sister knew, the better. Besides, Gabe deserved an authentic trick or treating experience as opposed to getting themed-corporate garbage in his candy bucket. For one of his first times at least.

As you pass by the Daycare, seeing many children playing in costumes and such, you see the doors are propped open, and Sun is handing out candy to a long line of trick or treaters.  

"Damn Pete, the Daycare Attendant really outshone you huh?" Savannah elbows him and nods to the animatronic's costume. 

Sun is also a vampire, with a large black cloak, and white shirt. His pants are somehow all black, and the change of shoes is also a surprise. Two lines of red streak down from his smile, which is still as friendly as ever otherwise.

Pete huffs, "It's literally the same costume, besides he doesn't even have fangs!"

You all start walking again, laughing. 

"True, but he wore it better, even without fangs."

The comment causes Pete to start arguing with the speaker, which to the surprise of no one at all, was Jesse.

You keep your gaze on Sun a few moments more, head feeling a bit clearer for just a moment. He glances up suddenly, and waves to you, head tilting just slightly. Surprised, you also wave.

There's a buzz in your pocket. As you start to walk away again you check it. 

'Your costume is nice.'

You wait for another message, you don't get one.

'Thanks???' You're confused. 

'Something wrong?'

'I just would have expected you to say something snarky at this point. Genuine compliments aren't your style'

You narrowly dodge an eager trick or treater running by you, nodding at their parent as they apologize. 

'It's Halloween. I'm in a good mood, don't sour it for me'

You scoff, 'There it is. I don't plan to, though it's tempting to have Clara swing by with the kids just for the fun of it'

From there, your normal bickering comes forth, and you continue it both as you head to the party and while at it. It's a bit busier than you expected, more employees than you expected are there mingling about the dancefloor.

The entire west arcade, like the rest of the Plex, is done up with decorations that set the mood. There's even a fog machine, adding to the spooky but cheerful atmosphere.

You still feel pretty funny though, and thus take the time to go 'cool off' out in the hall for a bit. 

It grows worse and you have to lean back against the wall. Head throbbing as you try to drink more punch in the hopes that will solve it. Your vision flashes again, purple, and suddenly you're not in the same location anymore. 

It's dark, and you're standing over someone. You can't see their face, it's covered with static. They're crying, hands up in surrender. You feel yourself chuckle, but it's not your voice, your tone is off. It's gravely. Not your own. 

Suddenly, out of your control, your hand, which is not your hand but some, clawed, thing, comes down and-

Your vision goes red and you clutch your head in pain. Gasping, you find yourself back in the hallway, back in your body. Back to normal. 

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. You don't know what that was. You don't want to find out, either. 

"Not enjoying the party, Andromeda?"

You look up, standing above you is Moon. He's also dressed up for this, wearing a witch costume that has more aspects of his usual wear to it than Sun's did. His color scheme is purple with bits of orange, and his usual hat is replaced by a large witch hat. 

You relax, the pain is gone, for now, "Trying to. I've not been feeling so hot, honestly."

"What's wrong?" He sits down across from you, cross-legged.

You shake your head, "I don't know. My head has just been, feeling funny. And hurts. A lot, really. Been blocking it out I guess."

"How unfortunate. Perhaps I could be of help?"

You shrug, "You can try, but don't feel like you have to, either."

Moon holds out his hand to you, and you set your palm on top of his. He intwines your fingers, which makes your face heat up, but you think with all the paint on your face it's impossible to tell. You look up to him, waiting. 

"Close your eyes, and take a deep breath," He urges.

You do. The pain has subsided some, though not by much.

"Breathe in," Pause, "Breathe out."

You follow his instructions, each breath helping to soothe you bit by bit. 

You realize however, that even with your eyes closed, there's a purplish tint to the blackness behind your eyes. You frown, and notice that it grows when you breath in, and subsides as you breathe out.

Moon's grip tightens on yours, but keeps speaking. 

"In," His tone shifts, growing hoarser, sinister? "Out..."

Alarm spikes in your stomach, but yet, your mind stays calm, almost like its-

You open your eyes, smiling softly, "I think I'm good now. Thanks, Moon-man."

He nods. 

Then, something occurs to you.

"Wait a minute, shouldn't you be passing out candy to the kids-" You blink, and you're alone in the fully lit hallway. 

You rub your eyes, had the lights been on that entire time? You knew that sometimes the two AI could avoid a switch if the light level wasn't fully one way or the other. But this was different. 

You don't get to dwell on it, as a scream erupts from inside the west arcade, several others following. Alarmed, you sit up, ignoring the pain in your skull that's back with a vengeance and rush inside. 

You find a crowd has gathered around the center of the dancefloor. The music's been cut, and people are muttering with horrified looks at whatever’s in the middle of the group.

As you move past people who are covering their mouths or eyes, some are crying, some are shaking their heads in disbelief. You find your team among them.

"What's going on?" You ask after shoving past another person. 

Savannah shakes her head, and Liv cowers further into Tyler's arms. You've never seen him so grim. 

You realize two of them are missing, your fear grows, "...Where's Jesse and Pete?"

Tyler nods to the center of the crowd, and you quickly take the few further steps to burst out into the opening, finding your fears confirmed plainly. 

Pete sits on the ground, crying as he cradles a body wrapped in white cloth stained red. You have to flick your eyes away from it for a moment, the sight being beyond shocking.

Swallowing and keeping your eyes to the ground, you slowly approach Pete and sit down. Briefly, you find your eyes meeting your, Christ, your dead friend's. His eyes are wide, mouth open in pure horror.

You turn back to the man beside you, setting your hand on his shoulder as he jumps, "What happened?"

"The, the lights cut, just, he just," He can't seem to look away, he's shaking, "I don't, I don't know how this would've, who could've, do-done this..."

You put your other hand on his other shoulder, forcing him to turn and look to you, "Pete. Breathe. Just breathe. Okay?"

He nods slowly, and you turn to behind the crowd behind you, "Please tell me somebody's called the cops?"

"No signal, trying to get ahold of Derrick in the office, but haven't had any luck," You realize that it's Bri who's answering you, looking rather grim in her black cat costume. 

You nod, "Right. Who's got basic medical training? I think he's gone into shock."

Someone steps forward, and starts tending to Pete. Someone else comes forward and lays a sheet over Jesse's body. A ghost costume you realize, how ironically morbid.

You stand, and-unfortunately being the person with the most experience in this scenario-try your best to take charge and calm things down. You also feel some level of responsibility, given that all the other Division Heads seem to be missing now.

Working with Bri, you send a group to the security office to see if they can't notify the police of what's happened. Additionally, you try to lock down the area to keep this from getting beyond the walls of this room and causing mass panic. Not to mention, you have no idea who did this, meaning they're still among you as far as you're aware. 

It's all going as smooth as it can be until Bri and the other guards’ radios erupt with screaming. Causing you to pause in your discussion with Savannah. 

You can barely make out what they're saying, only catching snippets here and there.

"-Something in the office!"

"Everybody's dead, oh god, they're all-"

"Help! Please! Anybody!"

To make matters worse, the lights cut again, sending the growing paranoia among the crowd into a full blown hysteric mob. You can't make out a thing in the dark, and when your head starts aching again, purple blinding you, you know you're a goner for the time being. 

Another vison comes to you, this time, the room is dimly lit, and you can tell this is a closet of some kind.

Again, you tower over a cowering figure who you realize is, David? What in the world is he doing here? What is happening?

"I don't know what they see in you, if anything at all," A voice that's not your own, yet comes from you, says. It's familiar but yet you can't-

David's sentence is shaky, "Look, I don't know what you want but I don't want any trouble. Okay?"

"Trouble? Friend, you're in a lot more than just trouble," There's something heavy in your hands, it glints in the light, "I'll tell you what though, if you hold still you'll be saving me a lot!"

Axe, it's an axe and it's swinging, down, down, down-

"Hey, it's alright. You're alright," Bri's shaking you, hand on your shoulder. 

You take a deep breath, realizing you're on your knees in a room lit by a red emergency light and some flashlights. Glancing around, you see all your friends, including Abby and even Jacob are here with you. There's a few others who you're guessing are other security guards based on how they stand near the door, on edge. 

You look back to Bri, "How'd I get here?"

Bri juts her thumb, "Tyler found you half out of it on the ground and grabbed you. Somehow carried Liv here too."

"I'm stronger than I look," He flexes with a nod. 

You manage to crack a weak smile, clutching your head as more pain shoots through it, "What happened? Where are we?"

"Security office by Fazerblast," Bri answers, glancing over at the covered window in the door, which you realize has been barricaded, "Furthest we could get safely with this many people."

"What do you mean by safely?"

She opens her mouth, but Pete speaks up, "The bots have gone awol." You turn to see he's on the ground, leaning up against the wall, blood dripping down the side of his head, face solemn, angry, "They're picking us off one by one. Anybody in sight is getting killed off. Doesn't help that we can't see a fuckin' thing and they can."

Your eyes widen, "What? …but, why? How?"

"Does it matter?" He asks, looking to you now, "We're dead meat if we try to leave, but we're sitting ducks here."

Bri scolds him, "We're not sitting ducks. This our best chance of getting out of here alive. If we can get power to the cameras, even better."

"Working on it," Liv says, something sparking as she speaks, "But I'm not an electrical engineer."

"Just give it up, Liv. There's no point," Pete scoffs, shaking his head.

He and Bri start arguing, Savannah trying to interject to keep the peace.

Someone sits down beside you, hand resting on your shoulder. 

It's Abby, her Glamrock makeup is smeared with dried tear streaks, "Hey."

"Hey," You sigh.

She bites her lip, "Are, are your siblings...?"

Your eyes widen and shake your head.

"God no. They're, they're safe. Out trick or treating with Clara," You put a hand to your face, relieved as you realize that fact, "Your brother?"

She sighs, "Also safe. With my parents. Not here. But," She stops, and you know exactly what she's thinking. 

You nod, turning away as you hear her sniffle. Your friends are still fighting, the guards by the door are getting antsy, another spark startles Liv and she looks ready to cry. You need to do something. 

Your vision turns purple but you shake it off immediately. Whatever this is, it can wait. You're going to make it.

Standing, and clutching your arm to keep it from twitching, you clear your throat, "We're not going to die here. Not on my watch. Bri, you and your guys here have any sort of weapon?"

"Tasers. And there should be a baton in here somewhere. Why, what are you thinking?"

You nod to the control panel for the cameras, "If there's anyone who can get those working in a blackout, it's Lizzy. And I know they were in Fazerblast before all this. Hell, it might've been their team that caused the outage."

"You want to go out there?" Pete asks, "Are you insane?"

You shrug, "Have to be at least a little bit to do this job. Someone give me a radio. We can at least double check before considering it."

Bri hands you her radio, and after a moment's hesitation, you set it to the engineers' channel and hold in on the button, "Lizzy, you still okay out there?"

Quiet. Your friends exchange a few bleak glances. 

You're about to try again when, "Uh, yeah? Why wouldn't I be?"

Relief, you think Pete even cracks a small smile. 

"There's... a lot of shit going down in the Plex right now, how have you not heard about it?"

"Dude we've been stuck in Fazerblast for hours. Besides trying to fix the power the doors got jammed. I'm not leaving until this is done though, so we just kind of ignored it. Did think it was weird there was no parents complaining about not being able to use a half-functioning attraction though." Their tone is so casual you have no choice but to believe it. 

The information, however, is huge, "That's, actually the best case scenario for us right now. So listen up, we gotta do this right or we don't stand a chance."

After explaining the full situation to Lizzy and their team, you work with your friends to come up with a plan. A good one. Something tells you you're only going to get one shot at this. 

Meanwhile, you struggle to keep it together. You keep getting more and more flashes of that other perspective. Speaking in those voices that you can't quite place how you know. Increasingly, you start to recognize the locations they're in are getting more familiar to where you are currently. 

It's a no brainer to you then, that you're a part of the team that goes to retrieve Lizzy. You force Bri to stay in the office, along with one of the guards. If you don't make it back, you at least want some people to stay safe. 

You try and fail in vein to stop Pete and Abby from coming with you, Tyler picks you up again when you question him coming along. 

"We're better off in even groups," Pete argues, gripping the metal chair leg he stole tightly, "Makes our chances that much better."

You don't disagree, but you don't like it either, "Fine, you're right. Now put me down please, Ty."

"Can do boss," He sets you down. 

You're all armed as best you can. The guard, Joseph, has a taser, and Tyler has-apparently-pure brute force on his side. Pete has the chair leg, which is similar to the stun baton you're carrying.

Abby has brass knuckles. You don't know how she has those but you're not going to question it. Apparently, Utah state law doesn't have any clauses relating to them, now you know.

You move quickly and silently through open darkness to get to the staff entrance to Fazerblast, which is thankfully only a short distance away. You all stay close, not saying a word as you navigate. 

There's not a soul around, human or machine. You don't know if it you puts you more on edge or not. 

When you get to the door, Pete's able to get it open quickly, and you all file inside, locking it again soon thereafter. 

The light inside the attraction is blinding in comparison to the darkness outside, the music and sound effects playing as if everything is entirely normal. It's almost more eerie in that regard. 

You find Lizzy and their crew sitting around one of the towers, the reunion is brief, but happy. It's agreed that the senior engineer will come with your group, and the parts and service crew will stay for safety reasons. You're about to depart again, when the radio starts going crazy. 

"We've got issues here!" Bri shouts down the line, "Don't come back, it's not safe!"

Static blares from the device, followed by banging, shouting, crying, and then a loud crash. The silence that follows is deafening. 

"Fuck. No, no, no," You bang on the side of the radio, "Come on, Bri! Savannah! Anyone!?"

No answer. 

"Dammit!" You toss the radio to the side, hands coming up to grip the sides of your head, "Dammit, dammit, dammit."

A hand on your shoulder, Abby again, "There's nothing we can do right now. We're going to have to refocus. Plan. Hope that they'll be okay-"

There's a banging at the front entrance to Fazerblast. Everyone freezes. 

You think quickly as the sound grows in volume, "Lizzy, how in control of the power are you currently?"

They dig through their bag, and toss you a makeshift remote, "It's what we've been using to test."

The pounding gets louder, and the shutter creaks. 

"Everybody who isn't armed find a place to hide. The rest of you are with me. We're gonna flip the tables on them."

Everyone scatters, and you make your way to the doors. You have no idea what's on the other side of that metal shutter, but you're going to find out one way or another. You'd rather it be on your terms. 

"Can you get it open?" You ask Pete, hitting the lights and leaving only a flashlight to see.

He nods, "You're sure about this?"

"As I'll ever be. Abby, Joe, Ty, go hide nearby. We'll assess the biggest threat and go from there."

They all nod, and head off into the darkness.

Pete gets the panel open, taking a deep breath, "I hope you're right."

You press your back against the wall beside the panel, almost accustom to the feeling of your vision switching to purple. That other perspective is right outside now. You see Freddy is the one banging on the door, along with several map bots. You squeeze your eyes shut and you're back in your body again.

"Me too."

There's a beep, and the shutter slowly starts to raise. Quickly, you grab Pete and shove him on the other side of you, using your arm to press him up against the wall beside you. 

As bots start pouring in, you lean your head back against the wall, holding your breath. 

You watch as they fan out, scouring for anyone that they think is in here. They don't see you. You relax slightly.

You turn to Pete and nod, guarding him as he moves and shuts the door again, it quietly sinks back to the ground, locking you in here for the time being. 

Moving across the wall, you regroup with the others. 

"I counted six staff bots, and Freddy," Abby whispers. The other three agree. 

Pete keeps lookout on your corner, "The music still playing helps us a little, but not a lot. We stick together, and go one by one, saving Freddy for last."

You frown, "Freddy's not last."

"What do you mean? Of course he is, he's going to be the hardest to take down."

You shake your head, "You miscounted. There's one more animatronic that made it in."

"Who?"

Off in the distance, you hear it, the jingle of bells. There's a flash of red as he lands on one of the walls, far off from you but within your line of sight. 

You shake away the purple again, knowing it's going to show you what he's seeing at that moment, "Moon."

You fare better than you expected. A bunch of humans versus machines. You manage to take down three of the staffs bots in the dark, and by screwing with the lights a few times, manage to disorient the Daycare Attendant enough to keep them from discovering your location. 

However, one of the parts n services guys gets found out, and his terrified screams as your claws rip him apart send, something, down your spine.

You know something's wrong with you now. You're taking far too much joy in beating in the metal skull of the staff bot below you. Oil splattering your clothes and face. You feel manic, alive. Out of control. 

You shake your head, stopping. You ignore the glances being sent your way, you have to make it through this. 

With this one you realize there's only one more staff bot left, then it's just Freddy and the Daycare Attendant. You flick the lights off again, huddling together with the others. 

"If we go for one, the other is going to know. Our best bet is to divide and conquer," Pete says. 

You nod, "One person with an electric weapon per team, one with something heavy. Tyler, you go with the group at the disadvantage to even it out."

Your teams end up being Joseph, Abby, and Tyler together to take on Freddy, leaving you and Pete to deal with Moon. 

You trudge through the darkness, silence between the two of you. 

There's been a voice in your head for a bit now. You block out whatever it says. Your grip feels shaky on the baton, and you can tell Pete's on edge more because of you than the looming threat somewhere out in the dark.

Keep it together. You just have to keep it together.

"Hello, Diana."

You turn, he pulls you up into the air, away from Pete. You don't even think to scream, instead only able to watch terrified as the ground and your friend get further and further away. 

Moon settles on one of the towers to set you down again, and you scramble back and fall onto the ground, looking up at him with fear. 

His faceplate twists, observing you. Then, his eyes narrow cheekily and he chuckles lowly. 

"What's the matter, Bright Eyes? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You bit your lip as it trembles, raising the baton as a threat, "W-with how this night is going it's, certainly a possibility."

"But that's not my costume now, is it?" He takes a step closer. 

You hold firm with the baton, hitting the button for the taser part to go off, "Moon-man, I don't want to hurt you. Don't make me."

The spark seems to deter him, growling.

"Why are you doing this? What did any of these people do to you?" You ask, beg in your words, "Killing innocent people? That's not you."

Moon snickers, and despite your waving of the baton, he moves closer, clawed finger resting on the end of it. He presses it down as he crouches to your level. 

You now sit eye to eye with him as he speaks, "Andromeda, would you like to know a secret?"

Your grip tightens on your weapon, head shaking once. That doesn't deter him. 

He leans in closer, his smile hovering just above your lips. 

"This is the best Halloween I've ever had," Then, he kisses you. You're so surprised that you don't feel the baton be taken from your hand until it's gone. 

He pulls away, chuckling again.

A loud bang suddenly resonates in the space, and the Naptime Attendant starts to twitch and collapse on the ground in front of you.

Pete stands over you both, breathing heavy as he clutches the chair leg in both hands. 

"Sorry, had to take the stairs."

Moon snarls and flips around, hand raising ready to slash across the man's chest. 

Panicked, you hit the button for the lights. 

But it's too late. 

As Sun's rays pop out, one by one, Pete can only stand there, blood slowly starting to soak through his shirt. He coughs, then takes a step forward, then another, stumbling past you into the wall. You quickly flip around as he collapses back against it, breathing ragged. 

"Well, at least now you look authentic," You turn back to see Sun standing hunched over, clutching his faceplate, "Though, it's still not quite as good as mine."

As he straightens, you have to suppress a gasp as it's revealed that one of his optics has shattered from the previous impact. 

His rays twitch and his focus snaps to you as you stand. 

His faceplate clicks to the side, "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Sunshine."

"Sun." You can't reach for your baton without it being obvious. 

"Are you having a good Halloween? I know I am." He tsks, "A pity about your costume, though I suppose the grit and grime really sells it."

You take a deep breath, running the back of your hand under your nose to wipe away the blood that's dripping. Your vison flashes purple, and for a moment you find you’re staring down at yourself. 

You're a mess. Hair all over the place, clothes torn. There's streaks in the paint covering your skin. There's still blood coming out your nose a little bit.

And your eyes are bright purple.

You come back to and watch Sun's eyes narrow.

You shift slightly, hand twitching.

You see there’s a slight shadow over Sun’s eyes. And in his good optic a small white pupil flicks to your hand. You swallow.

 "Don't do something you'll regret, Icarus."

You stamp your foot down onto the baton, it pops up into your hand and you click to turn it on.

You jut your chin out, tilting your head slightly, "Come on, Sun. You know me better than that."

You rush forward, he steps back, dodging and spinning to face you as you charge again. It's almost like a dance of danger. And it truly becomes one when Sun takes one of your hands and spins you around, dipping you low and back up as you try and fail again to use the baton on him. 

You let out a noise of frustration. Charging forward again, the two of you go round and round. Narrowly you miss him every time. Narrowly he dodges every swing. He’s fast. Faster than you’d have ever anticipated, than he’d ever let on about. You never realized how close to death you may have been all this time.

After another miss, this one the closet you’ve gotten yet, Sun puts an end to your game. He grabs hold of the baton, only flinching as you turn it on, and rips it from your grip, tossing it aside. He spins you into his arms and holds tight. 

You fight against him in vain. 

"You know, Bright Eyes. I would have thought you'd appreciate your treat a bit more than this," He snarls the words, "But maybe you've been too busy resisting it to do so."

You slow your struggling, and Sun releases you finally. The words having done the job far better than his hold to sedate you.

You turn to face him cautiously.

"You, you did this?" You ask, "You did this to me?"

Sun tuts, hands coming up to cup your cheeks, "Well, technically you did it to yourself, Bright Eyes. But I'm happy you did. Makes all of this much, much easier."

It suddenly hits you that he's right. Maybe not intentionally, or fully knowing, but you made the choice to go back to the computer. You chose to try and turn it off again. You could have left the office, it would've shut down eventually. Something had compelled you to come closer and investigate, and you had made the choice to listen. 

And now you were suffering from the cost.

"Now, let's finish this up, hm?" Sun bends and kisses you, pulling away after a moment, "You wouldn't want to disappoint now, would you?"

You don't answer. Your feet move on their own as they turn to face Pete, who seems to realize what's happening before you do. 

He clutches the wound on his stomach tighter, breathing quickening, "Come on, snap out of it! This isn't you! You know it's not."

"Quiet over there, you'll get your chance to speak in just a moment," There's something set down in your hands, you know what it is, "Don't worry, I'll help you. No need for tears."

You find that you are crying, but can't do a thing to stop it. Your body is not your own, your emotions are not your own. You are entirely out of control as Sun guides you to march staggeredly towards Pete.

Off in the distance you hear shouting as your remaining friends try in vain to take down Freddy. Not that it mattered. Even if they did, you'd be finishing the job.

Your breathing is heavy but controlled, grip on the axe tight, all you can do is stare down at Pete, who looks up at you horrified, eyes wide. You think the look matches the fear in your own gaze.

Sun's hands are on your shoulders, voice a purr in your ear, "Go on, Starlight. You know what you need to do."

The axe raises jerkily, fighting against it and losing. Your eyes snap shut, and it comes down. Again, and again, and again.

You block out everything, all noise, all touches. You block out the sound of sickening crunches and squelches, of Pete's heavy gasps, of Sun murmuring encouragement right beside you all the while. 

You block out the wood rough against the skin of your hands, the blood, sweat, and tears, running down your face. Sun's hands wrapped around your waist, head resting on your shoulder. 

You suddenly regain control and your eyes shoot open, throwing the axe away from you and stumbling back into Sun's arms. Your hands come up to your face as you sob, shaking your head. 

He just holds you as you cry, muttering things you can't comprehend as he presses kisses to your hair. 

When you finally subside to sniffles is when he pulls back to press a kiss to your lips.

"There, there, you're alright, Bright Eyes. Come on now," He lifts you to your feet, arms pulling you closer as he leans in for another kiss, "I'll let you pick who's next, how's that?" 

You shoot up from your bed, heart racing. You clutch your chest, breathing hard. 

You're at home. Sitting on your bed. You're fine. Everything's fine.

There's a yawn to your left that interrupts your thoughts. 

It's Gabe, laying on the bed beside you in his pumpkin costume. He yawns again, and stares curiously up at you, fist in his mouth. You pat his head with a sigh.

Right, you were going to put him down for a nap before heading out to trick or treat, then go to the Plex for the same thing. Looks like you ended up taking a nap too. 

You check the time, it's almost five. Suddenly, a thought hits you square in the face.

"Did I kiss Sun?" You say aloud. 

You do your best to recall the fading nightmare.

Oh god, you did. Right on his stupid flat face. Multiple times. You kissed Moon to but you're less opposed to that albeit confused-but Sun?

Involuntarily you gag, now feeling the sudden urge to rinse out your mouth, even if it had just been to his faceplate, much less a dream. 

Shaking your head, you turn to look down at your brother, who's now somehow managed to get his foot in his mouth, despite his costume. 

"Gabe, never down a bag of sour gummies and immediately take a nap, it'll give you crazy dreams."

You think you might leave the trick or treating to the kids tonight.

Something tells you that it’s for the best.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Oof, what a doozy huh? Imagine being the final girl AND the killer... crazy. Good thing it was all just a dream. Here's the promptober list and the spookvember schedule. Thanks for reading as always-

Oh?

What's this?

Looks like there's a link down here.

How'd that get there?

...

Hm.

You should click it. See what happens.

CLICK ME

btw the song playing while writing the fight scene was I Go Crazy - Orla Gartland and it was a VIBE and a half let me tell you-

[toriaanin]

Shit Stirrer: A great cause with a dash of irony

Jumping into my first blog post with Nicola!

Looking fresh, well rested, gorgeous and Christmas ready from - I'm assuming - her family's Galway living room, Nicola posted a photo of herself today wearing 1 of 8 specially designed "Saltburn Insults" t-shirts. These limited edition t-shirts were created by Carey Mulligan and Emerald Fennell (director) to both celebrate one year since the release of the movie Saltburn on Netflix and, more importantly, to help raise funds for War Child UK's "Emergency Christmas Appeal" fundraising efforts. War Child UK's single goal is to ensure a safe future for every child affected by war. This is a cause we know Nicola stands firmly behind! If you're interested in supporting this important cause, follow this link for the t-shirt Nicola is wearing... or scroll to the bottom of the Everpress page to see the other 7 "Saltburn Insults" t-shirts on offer: https://everpress.com/warchild-x-shitstirrer#more-info

So what, you ask, did I mean about that dash of irony?

Look at the angelic look on her face. Nicola, a shit stirrer? Shady Whistledown herself?! Maybe, perhaps sometimes 😉

Over the last week the Lukola fans in my chat groups as well as those sharing thoughts in my live streams, or those sending me DMs, have been expressing the same thing: exhaustion! They (heck... me too. We!) are tired and feeling a whole lot of frustration. Some quotes:

"I feel like we're all here trying to defend Nicola and Luke, trying to fight off all the negative propaganda being put out by the Jakolas and trolls, and all the while Nicola is the one feeding much of the {front facing} narrative. I'm tired and discouraged." "I believe they're together - 100% I do - but I'm tired of not knowing for sure and it's annoying to spend so much time worrying about a couple that may only come clean years from now, or if they get papped." "I'm sick to death of breadcrumbs. I want the whole loaf now!"

Yet we also laughed at the ironic humour in Nicola as a "Shit Stirrer"; the primary distributor (and organizer of other distributors, with Shonda's & JVN's help sometimes) of breadcrumbs, morsels and golden nuggets! The breadcrumbs are so much fun to find, and they can also be confusing and frustrating! Shit stirrer indeed. Xx

Nicola also has ruffled some feathers because of her political and social beliefs (support of the LGBTQ community [Gay Icon!] and abortion rights in Northern Ireland), humanitarian work. From my perspective, GOOD work! To others who perhaps have a vested interest in the status quo? Shit stirrer indeed. Xx

Yes, we Lukola fans know that Nicola and Luke don't owe us anything and that privacy is their right. We also know that Tomdaya took years before they acknowledged their relationship publicly. We should be prepared for the long haul, yes? Yes. 🥴 Le sigh.

As we enter into a new year I know the question for me will be how much of my time, energy and heart will I place into all things Lukola? Over the next week or so I'll think about the wonderful connections I've made in our Lukola community (and the angst I've experienced because of divisions)... I'll think about how fun breadcrumb speculation is, how I relish the hunt for golden nuggets (those solid truths that are ballast for our ship)... and of course the enthusiasm (and agony) that I feel for the ongoing watch for launch.

Today I'm feeling tired and at times, discouraged. My plan is to relax, reassess and come to 2025 with a fresh mindset. No obsession... just patience and fun will be the aim... and keeping up with this blog too.

Will you be on the ship with me in 2025? Or will Nicola and Luke launch before the New Year and save us all from the misery?! Ha!!

Cheers to Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Merry Seasonal Celebrations... and to my fellow Commonwealth Countries, Yay for Boxer - I mean Boxing - Day (Dec 26th)!!

P.S. Best doggos in the whole wide world! Convince me otherwise ;-)

[fairuzfan]

hello!! I don't know if this is appropriate (pls do not feel obligated to answer) but i was wondering what were ur thoughts on the israeli grass-roots movement Standing Together. I first found out abt them through a tumblr post that shared this substack article (https://theconnector.substack.com/p/if-its-not-helping-then-shut-the). the article immediately put an extremely bad taste in my mouth towards the movement and its founders, but i dont know if i'm being overly-critical of them.

Hey thanks for sending this in. No worries, it's totally ok. I was actually debating whether or not to publish this, mostly because I was afraid this would distract from Gaza, but I decided that it's imperative to stop normalizers from squeezing their way into the movement. Remember, the demands of the Palestinian people begin and end with liberation. Everything else is irrelevant and pointless to the cause.

So first off — I don't think you're being overly-critical of them at all. The first red flag of both this article and the group themselves is that they often exchange "Palestinian" with "Arab" and "Israeli" with "Jewish." That right off the bat shows me they have no respect for Palestinians and see Jewish people and Palestinians as mutually exclusive categories. I've spoken on this blog before about how racist it is to assume no Palestinian is Jewish and vice versa and this group really illustrates the forced division they imagine within their own goals and wording.

The article itself is quite anti-Palestinian in its erasure — it talks about avoiding words like "genocide," and "apartheid," and "ethnic cleansing" because "they are serious people trying to actually get something done." I really don't understand why not using those words makes you a serious person. If anything, it erases a description of how to define what it happening to Palestinians.

The whole redefinition of "peace" in this article and group is just calmness. These people are not advocating for peace in which families are reunited and land is given back — they are advocating for a muted version of the status quo of the current political system, just with less obviously fanatical governments. Peace cannot be attained when the people directly affected cannot have a say in defining it. They won't even say the word "apartheid." It's not some scholarly word with no meaning — it has actual consequences and effects on people (click). Palestinians are tried in military court. Their movement is monitored and restricted. It means that there are different legal systems for different people (click)! If you reject that this exists, then you're not interested in making the lives of Palestinians better — you're only interested in making your own life more comfortable.

As soon as you remove our ability to say words like "genocide" and "apartheid", you remove our ability to determine what happens specifically to Palestinians based on racism. By only saying "Palestinians are getting killed" an Israeli can come in and say "well so am I, by Hamas! Let's work together to end the killing" when it ignores that this is a systematic effort to completely wipe out all trace of Palestinians from the world.

It's like saying, "Don't say you have arthritis, say your joints hurt. And well, that happens to everyone, so let's just find a way to stop all our joints from hurting!" Then you work with people who fundamentally don't understand your pain and symptoms, oversimplifying your situation to the point of malicious universality. Sure, everyone's joints hurt, but my joints are hurting because my immune system is attacking them, not because of old age. You can't help my arthritis the same way you can wear a heat/cold patch to sooth your joints — there are other problems you're ignoring that all work together to cause me systematic pain and might cause bigger problems in the future if left untreated properly.

Similar symptoms don't mean similar causes and ignoring that is fundamentally ignoring the root issue and attempting to trivialize Palestinian's suffering. As soon as you take away the words to describe our situation, it doesn't sound so bad, does it?

Now, basically, the... weirdest part of the article is this excerpt:

People like him in Israel are very aware of how the left here is talking about them, and it’s not helping. “You can call me a colonizer or a settler,” he declared, “but I’m not going anywhere. And neither are the Palestinians.” When people chant, “Palestine will be free,” he said, “we Israelis hear, ‘without you.’ In the same way that a lot of Palestinians hear the ministers in Bibi’s government speak and think they want to do the same thing to them.” The problem as they both see it is that we are caught between two polar opposites. “Hamas believes in Greater Palestine,” Green said. “And on the other side we have people who believe in the idea of Greater Israel.” Indeed, that concept is in the charter of Netanyahu’s Likud Party. “Both sides have very problematic governing bodies,” he added. And the status quo of maintaining the occupation and managing the conflict has been exploded now.

Well, first off, Hamas is not the only one who believes in "Greater Palestine." Palestinians around the globe have been fighting for that since 1948. Second off, it's quite odd that you would center yourself in the wake of the ongoing slaughter of 10,000 people, with no end in sight. Right now, I would assume you'd be advocating for an end to the mass killings first and foremost, but you seem to be more worried about your right to stolen land.

Third, this completely erases the violence done to Palestinians the past 75+ years in favor for a "peace" that will only allow citizens of Israel comfort in their lives. Sure Palestinian citizens of Israel might have more comfortable lives, maybe (although I doubt it). But what about Gaza, which has been ravaged by Israel? What about the people in the Occupied Territories, whose economy depends on Israel, which controls it? What about the millions of refugees around the world who can't so much as see the place where they grew up because they've been exiled? The colonization of Palestine by Israel is not so old — there are people STILL ALIVE who participated in the massacres of Palestinians in 1948 and 1967 and walk around without facing any real consequences for that. My great-grandmother had seen both and she only passed away a couple of years ago. Where is the "peace" for her? Where is the "peace" for millions like her who still dream of going back to their childhood home?

This group AND the article tries to cloud your view into illustrating two opposing groups with equal power. They aren't. Palestinians, unfortunately, endure systematic oppression both within Gaza and throughout Palestine. Each and every time they try to resist peacefully, they've been shot, abducted, or imprisoned. The Great March of Return is one such example. BDS is also an example, yet that has constantly been outlawed by American governments. There have been a plethora of Palestinian artists, writers, and filmmakers who have been silenced or killed for advocating for a Free Palestine. Most recently, this included Heba Abu-Nada who was an award winning poet and writer who was martyred on October 20th after getting shelled by an Israeli missile. Ghassan Kanafani also was assassinated last century. The list goes on. Palestinians have no hope of "changing the system from within" because that internal change will always depend on the mercy of the Israelis that pretend to ally themselves with the Palestinians. Someone in Gaza cannot leave their refugee camp and go back to their ancestral home because no one in this group is advocating for that — and remember, the right of return is an essential part of the demands of the Palestinian people and we cannot ignore that for a forced "peace" that favors calmness over actual justice.

Now as we examine the group themselves, here is their mission statement/goal:

Standing Together is a progressive grassroots movement mobilizing Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel against the occupation and for peace, equality, and social justice. We know that the majority have far more in common than that which sets us apart and only a tiny minority benefits from the status quo. The future that we want-peace and independence for Israelis and Palestinians, full equality for everyone in this land, and true social, economic, and environmental justice — is possible. To achieve this future, we must stand together as a united front: Jewish and Palestinian, secular and religious, Mizrahi and Ashkenazi, rural and urban, and people of all genders and sexual orientations. As the largest Jewish-Arab grassroots movement in Israel, we are committed to creating an alternative to our existing reality and building the political strength to make this transformation possible.

Yet again, they are separating "Palestinian" and "Jewish," reinforcing this dichotomy that's so harmful. AND they're interchanging "Palestinian" and "Arab," which erases the diversity within Palestinian society. A group that makes the distinction between "Palestinian" and "Jewish" shows that they are not interested in the restitution of Palestinians but rather solidifying their own position within society by emphasizing a false dichotomy between "Palestinians" and "Jews" with no potential for overlap.

They mention "true justice" but "true justice" doesn't exist if there are no reparations towards the people who have been exiled and displaced, murdered, and tortured the past 75+ years. Justice is not an abstract concept — it is adhering to the demands of the people most impacted by systematic oppression, which is the Palestinians.

Looking at their leadership, there are only a couple of Palestinians with the vast majority of them being non-Palestinian. Sorry, but I'm wholly uninterested in "peace" and "equality" movements that are not made up of majority Palestinians. It's only common sense that you would expect such a movement to be led by Palestinians themselves — but this group seems to use Sally Abed as a token Palestinian who furthers their narrative of wanting "peace" in Israeli society. And even looking at their action items, you can see they make a point about emphasizing safety for the *Israeli* citizens above all else, stating that their far right government does nothing to serve the citizens of Israel. They claim it will also bring safety for Gazans, but how? You can advocate for a change in the government, yes, but if the people in Gaza are subject to getting their rights taken away based on the whims of whoever happens to be in power then no amount of "internal" activism in Israeli society will help them. They will always be at the mercy of the people who have a vested interest in erasing the people of Gaza and the West Bank so that they may take over their land.

Please remember, the civil rights movement of the 60s and the BLM Movement of this century were led by and FOR Black people of the United States because they were the ones making the demands for a change in their circumstances. Because at the end of the day, the people who are the most oppressed deserve the right to decide how their future appears and should not be dictated by the oppressor in any way.

This group tries to make a separation between the "Israeli people" and the "Israeli government." Right away, I have to laugh. They act as if the colonization of Palestine is too old for anyone to remember its origins — no. I had family living in Palestine as recently as '67. Maybe *this* generation didn't choose to settle in Palestine, but the previous generation did. And the generations before that. Before 1948, Israel didn't even exist. Hell, before a couple hundred years ago, BORDERS didn't exist. Not to mention, mandatory conscription means that most civilians will have been directly part of the suppressing forces, making them liable for the material effects of colonization. Why are people so resistant to the idea of undoing colonialism and its effects? I cannot think of any other reason than because they have a vested interest in keeping those borders up, in emphasizing nationality because they're one of the groups of people that is benefited from the establishment of a "Jewish State."

So in that, unless you call for an end to the idea of the "Jewish State" in Palestine, then I cannot think of you as a sincere advocate for Palestinian rights — this group especially plays at normalization of a muted version of the status quo rather than actual justice and reparations. The "Israeli advocates" within this group will benefit first and foremost in their own activism — therefore it's hard for me to view them in a positive light.

All activism for Palestinians should center around giving Palestinians reparations, as well as giving reparations to all indigenous victims of colonization. I think this group only tries to muddy the waters to make people forget what they're fighting for. I honestly do not understand why liberation scares you, if it means that no nation-state will have complete and total power over you and your family.

"Free Palestine" is an anti-colonial movement. Such a thing is possible — but you have to try to make it possible. Those against the unending liberation of all people are one of those who have the most to benefit from the continuation of colonization.

Right now, your main concern should be the people of Gaza and the people of the West Bank, and ensuring their safety and longevity in the face on continued erasure. "Peace" is all well and good but who exactly gets to define that? Who gets to benefit most from it? Unless you can unequivocally answer "ALL Palestinians," then you're not an ally — you're only interested in helping yourselves.

Remember — the fact that we even had to fight for our rights is itself an injustice. At the very least, ask the people who are most affected what they want before you listen to Israelis who have a vested interest in keeping the state of Israel alive.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

A Southern Myth

Summary: Leon had been sent to a rural place in Texas where sightings of a BOW were reported. But upon entering the forgotten town, he began to get entangled in a horrific twist of events involving a religious cult. Things escalate and now he must survive with the help of a girl who doesn’t believe in anything.

Warning: horror. religion. mentions of blood and gore like description. cult activities. violence. swearing. reader is fem. there is no romance/smut.

A/N: omg I’ve never written something like this before🙈 CAPCOM should hire me for script writing.

“You believe you're on the righteous path, you believe you're a force for good, but you're not.” - John Seed, Far Cry 5

“Come forth, my children. Let your souls become pure under His guidance.”

“Let us rejoice in purity as we bathe in this sacrifice. Let us become one for Him, for He has been waiting.”

-

The sound of the dirt rolling under the car’s wheel made the road feel bumpy for Leon. The heat was intense the further he went into the rural side of what was once a town named Giligand in Texas. Once a lively town that had become a ghost town.

Until a group of religious settlers took over the desert land and claimed it their new home. They built their own society, far away from modern civilization. The orange and dried plants surrounding the new town as the wind blew hard. The sun intensified and caused Leon’s sweat to trickle down his body.

Right in the middle of nowhere is where he got sent- yet again. The D.S.O has assigned Leon a more haunting mission. The government division found in Texas’ own legislation had found weird signs of an unknown entity roaming around the dried up land. He found himself standing in front of an agent in Austin telling him about this entity.

“Our homeland security experts have raised a few concerns regarding a secluded town in Western Texas. They believe that this could be related to the virus incident that presided in other countries,” The senior agent stated as he gave Leon a stack of papers containing pictures and files of the sightings.

The abnormality was big and round. But its eyes were the only visible thing in the dark of night. Pure white eyes protruding from the creature’s face, sending a wave of uneasiness to Leon. The monster seemed tall, definitely more than 9 feet tall. Leon couldn’t tell exactly what it was but he guessed there were some sort of horns coming out the creature’s skull.

Leon had finally reached the town, being greeted by a yellowing sign. The sign written in Times New Roman “Welcome to Cunstacin” on the bottom “previously Giligand” and then near the border edge “Pop. 189”

Such a small town for a big state. Leon didn’t think much of it. He wasn’t aware of how much his life would change the minute he passed the sign without seeing those pure white eyes watching him from behind his truck.

The town itself was small but seemed very busy. The roads were flat with gravel. The houses were old and barren but still usable. He wondered how people were able to make a living of such an abandoned place. As he neared a motel, he was met with the leader of the town. A tall man of tan skin, hair long enough to reach his shoulders as his beard grew to his neck.

He approached Leon’s truck and greeted him with a polite smile, “Ah, you must be the new guy they sent here.” Leon nodded as he turned off the engine and jumped out of his car.

The man walked up to Leon and patted his shoulder, “Hope the road wasn’t too tedious. The distance between here and the city is pretty stretchy.” The man chuckled and looked behind him where two young women stood. “Go fetch his luggage and take it to his room. We don’t want to make our esteemed guest work too much now, don’t we?”

The two ladies nodded and walked over to the trunk of Leon’s truck. They both carried the brown and thick luggages to the motel, their silhouettes getting lost in between the halls.

The man then gently forced Leon to walk with him, “I’m sure you’re tired and you might want to get some rest, but there’s an afternoon mass the town wishes for you to attend. The people want to meet the new guy in town,” the man laughed again and gave Leon’s chest a lazy slap.

“I appreciate the offer but I’m here for work- strictly for work,” Leon replied as he looked at the man and then around the area.

The man chuckled and took his hand away from Leon’s shoulder, “No worries- I get it. You’re a busy guy and your work ethic is commendable,” the man leaned towards Leon’s ear to whisper, “But if you find yourself in need of His words, do come to the church behind the Great Willowed Forest.” The man leaned back and gave him another toothy smile, almost unsettling. “Make yourself at home.” That was the last thing the man said before he began to walk away.

Leon exhaled through his nose. He already got the creeps from the background check he ran on the town but meeting the people in person made the whole experience much more precarious.

He began to walk along the town, trying to find any other civilians. He saw an older woman with two children outside a two story building.

“Excuse me,” Leon said as he jogged to the three individuals. One of the children, a little boy with a bowl haircut pointed to Leon and exclaimed, “Look, meemaw- ‘tis the new guy!” The older woman slapped the little boy’s head, “Pointing at strangers is rude.”

Leon cleared his throat, “It’s alright,” he looked down at the kid before looking back at the older woman, “I’ve heard there were some strange… sightings around this town-“

“Ah, yes-“ the woman cut him off, “You’re talking Tervin.” Leon immediately furrowed his brows. They had named the potential B.O.W?

“Tervin?” Leon asked and the woman nodded, “Yes. He was sent by God,” she looked up at the sky and then back at him.

“He was kind enough to send us a messenger. My boy, the end is coming. We must cleanse our souls of our sins in order to enter our Eden.”

Leon immediately felt a weird sense of unease in his lower stomach, the bottom pit sinking down after the woman spoke.

The woman took a step forward and cupped Leon’s face, “He is our savior. He will bring us to an eternal peace. Time is ticking, we must proceed with His plan.”

Leon took a step back, taking deep breaths. What was this feeling? His heart was hammering against his rib cage and he could feel his head become light. Maybe it was heatstroke or maybe it was fear.

The woman stared at Leon, seemingly in a trance. He swore he saw her eye color vanish for a moment, not right before she “came back” and smiled at him. She then took hold of the two children’s hands and walked away. He could only stay there watching as they got further away.

He exhaled shakily as he ran a hand through his hair, this would be harder than he thought.

-

For the next following days, he’s been trying to talk to these people but everyone said remotely the same things.

“Monster? He’s no monster. He’s our salvation.”

“God sent him, it is His gift to us.”

“We must act quickly, the end is nigh”

Leon was currently sitting on the edge of the bed in the room he was currently staying. His elbows rested on his knees as his gaze fell on the picture of the creature he had in his hand. Pure black, except for the eyes. Something felt sinister- almost too evil. But he couldn’t pinpoint what. Everyone looked normal-ish.

He left the motel and began his 15th round of research. He was so sure he’d get kicked out if he kept asking the people questions. His mind traveled back to what the leader said, something about attending mass.

He didn’t want to but he knew that he had to try. Maybe there was something that could be useful in the church.

So that’s where he was headed. To the Great Willowed Forest. A forest full of tall trees and tall grass. The sun was setting and the church came into his line of vision. A tall Victorian structure that was adorned in white and gold. A bell sitting on top of the highest tower peak of the religious establishment. He slowly walked up the freaking and old steps of the church. Muffled talking from just the other of the door. With a light inhale, he pushed the door open with gentleness and stepped into the church.

The inside was much more beautiful. The benches were neatly fixed in rows as the windows were stained glass depicting stories of their God. The church was packed and the leader stood on the podium, preaching about their path to salvation.

“We must obey the Lord’s rule. For we are His children as well as His servants. We must makeup for the loss of His journey.”

Leon found himself an empty seat at the very back. No one seemed to have noticed him enter, they were all focusing on the town’s leader words. Almost as if they were bewitched.

“Tonight, we must bring our sacrifice and cleanse our souls. We must savor the taste of blood as He has given us a vessel from his sacrifices. We must show him our devotion.”

The mass lasted for an hour and a half, and he didn’t find anything remotely useful. He sighed in defeat as he felt like he wasted his time, yet again. There were no signs of any B.O.W and these people were most certainly convinced that the monster was their key to heaven.

It was nighttime when Leon had left the church, walking aimlessly through the forest. His mind preoccupied with thoughts about potentially lying to the D.S.O and telling them it was just some southern myth.

Until he hears clinking sounds coming from behind a bush. His agent instincts activated and he quietly walked towards the bush to see what was behind it.

To his surprise, he’d found another person. A girl working on a garden. She had been couched down on the floor as her hands worked through the soil.

As he walked towards you, his boots crunched against the twigs lost in the grass. Your attention had been drawn to the sound and you quickly spotted the new man in town.

You furrowed your brows as he approached you, “You’re the new guy everyone’s talking about.”

Leon nodded curtly, “The one and only,” you hummed in response and resumed your duties.

“Can I ask-“

“No.”

He was caught off guard by your immediate answer. You didn’t even look back at him. He could only stare at the back of your head as your hands worked through the soil.

“You didn’t even listen to what I had to say,” he approached you and crouched next to you, glancing at the plants you’ve been planting.

“I don’t need to. You’re asking questions about this stupid and fake thing everyone claims to be salvation or some other bullshit,” you grumbled.

“Not necessarily-“ he sighed and looked at your side profile, “I’m not here for that-“

“What do you want me to tell you? That there’s some sort of monster roaming around the forest?” You turned your head to look at him, “Because I won’t. I haven’t seen anything and I do not believe it even exists. Those lunatics are hell bent on their stupid… belief,” you scoffed as you turned your attention back to your plants.

“Bunch of bullshit if you ask me,” you muttered. He looked at you some more before looking back down at your hands covered in dirt.

“So you aren’t with those people?” Leon raised a brow as he analyzed you. You shook your head no, “Hell no. You don’t know what they do to those who don’t believe in their God… you don’t know anything.”

Leon remained silent as your words settled down in his mind. There was more than what you led on and both of you knew this.

“Then tell me,” he replied quietly. You sighed and looked at him with an annoyed expression, “Doesn’t matter. Just go back to your shit and mind your business.”

He didn’t say anything, he just watched you for a few minutes before he stood up and left.

He went back to his motel room and laid down on the bed. Staring up at ceiling as he thought about the events that took place. He still couldn’t shake off the strange feeling he felt about this town. Something felt odd but he just didn’t know what. He sighed and decided to just sleep for the night.

-

Leon woke up early in the morning and tried to find the leader of the town. Surprisingly, he was at the church. He was sitting down on a bench, silently praying. Leon walked up to him and sat next to him as he waited for him to finish praying.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our visitor. To what do I owe the pleasure?” The man said as he noticed Leon’s presence next to him. Leon cleared his throat and pulled out a picture of ‘Tervin’

“I need you to tell me about this. What do you know?” Leon’s brows were furrowed, he was serious. He didn’t come around to play. The man took the picture and stared at it. Something in his aura had changed upon seeing that picture.

“Where did you get this?” The man asked as he looked at Leon with an unreadable expression. Leon shrugged, “I can’t say.” The man hummed and looked back at the altar in front of them.

“Tervin is a gift from God. He was sent as a warning of impending doom,” the man replied in a flat voice. “If he isn’t satisfied, then he seeks blood. We must cleanse this town of impurities and relay a message to God that we are worthy of his Eden paradise.”

Something in that caused a shiver to run down Leon’s spine, but he didn’t show it. He remained serious and calm. Leon nodded once and stood up, feeling like no one will actually tell him anything.

“Thanks,” he muttered before he left the church. When he walked out, he nearly crashed into you.

“Watch it,” you hissed at him. He looked down at you with a raised brow, “I’m pretty sure you meant ‘excuse me’” he crossed his arms over his chest and kept blocking the doorway.

You sighed and looked at him unimpressed, “Excuse me.” Leon rolled his eyes and stepped to the side. As you began to walk past him, you noticed the picture in his hands. Your brows pinched together and you quickly pointed to it, “what’s that?”

Leon looked down at the picture and then back at you, “I’m supposed to investigate this… thing.” He watched you closely, trying to gauge your reaction as you stood there silently thinking.

“You’ll get yourself in trouble if you keep putting your nose where it doesn’t belong,” you warned before stepping inside the church. He saw you walk up to the leader. He exhaled and walked back to the town. When will someone actually help him?

-

It was somewhere past 11 pm, he was staring at the files he had about this town and his objective. It was impossible to think how he didn’t have any leads. It was the Leon S Kennedy! He always saw that the job got done, always.

He groaned defeatedly and began to walk around the town, he doesn’t even know how many times he’s done that.

The town was awfully quiet. There was a fog occupying most of his vision, making the place look eerie and unsettling. He heard the rustling of the trees and grasses but he paid no mind to that. Not right now, at least.

He saw you sitting on a fountain, staring at your reflection deep in thought. Why were you the only one out here. He walked over to you and spoke in a soft voice, “What are you doing out here?”

You looked over at him and then back at the water, “Could ask you the same.”

Leon sighed and scratched his head, “I just- I wanted to ask questions but seems like everyone just… disappeared.”

You hummed in response as your fingers played with the water, “They didn’t. They’re at the church praying or something.”

His ears perked up, praying at this time? He didn’t want to question it but it still lingered in his mind.

After a few moments of silence, he couldn’t help but ask, “You said you didn’t believe in God, why is that?” He asked in a quiet voice.

You looked at him before motioning for him to follow you, “It’s better if I just showed you.”

You led him through the dark forest, twigs snapping under your shoes and wind howling soft whispers as the moonlight glimmered down you two.

“This town ostracizes those who don’t believe in God. Do you know what happens to nonbelievers?” You looked behind your shoulder to glance at Leon for a brief moment.

“No, I don’t but do tell,” he followed behind you as his eyes scanned the forest for any threats.

You sighed and stopped walking once you’ve reached an abandoned cemetery, you walked up to one of the gravestones and stared down at the name, “Jeffrey Clyle. 1987-2024.”

“Sacrifice,” you whispered. Leon heard you and walked up next to you, your eyes distant and your expression solemn.

“Ever since rumors of the “messenger” started, they’ve been capturing and targeting those whose faith has been faltering…” your gaze remained down at the gravestone and Leon remained silent as he let you talk.

“They’ve been doing human sacrifices in the name of God. They believe that God would forgive them if they kill those who oppose him…” your voice trailed off for a moment before you turned your face to look at him, “It’s evil. Punishing people for not believing in something is inhumane. They’re all slaves to their own fucking religion, that God is not kind and I will never believe in it.”

“Then what are you still doing here?” Leon asked as he stared into your eyes, searching for an answer.

“Because my father is the fucking leader of this whole thing. I can’t just leave,” you mumbled and looked away. “I already get judged for not believing- imagine what would happen to me if I left?”

He remained silent once again. Your father was the preacher and the leader of the town? That makes things even more interesting. Leon never pictured himself to be in this kind of situation- not since Spain, at least. It all seemed the same to him. Religion controlling people, is that all it will ever be?

Then he remembered something from mass he attended,

“Tonight, we must bring our sacrifice and cleanse our souls. We must savor the taste of blood as He has given us a vessel from his sacrifices. We must show him our devotion.”

Leon’s eyes widened as he began to finally realize what might happen. He looked down at you, “You mean to tell me… that your father participates in human sacrifices? Why?” His eyes were narrowed as his breathing became faster.

You looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Because his idiotic self thinks that sacrificing people will help him and his goons reach their heaven.”

Innocent lives were being used for this town’s religion. This didn’t sit right with Leon. He quickly ran out of the cemetery- his heartbeat speeding as his legs carried his body towards the church.

Under the embrace of the moon and the night, a gathering assembled at the edge of the churchyard, shrouded by the shadows cast by the townspeople. Their faces unrecognizable under the dark night, their chants in hushed tones as they circled around a sacrifice.

Bound by chains, a person writhed in resistance, their muffled cries stifled by a potato sack over their head. Leon stood behind a tree as you came behind him to look at the scene unfold in front of your eyes.

The leader of the town emerged, wielding a sacrificial blade gleaming under the moonlight. Each stroke of the blade sent shivers down your’s and Leon’s spine, as the victim's anguished pleas echoed through the night, a haunting presence appeared through the tethered night.

“We give this sacrifice to you, our Lord. Let us repent for our sins and wash ourselves with the blood of those who’ve been cleansed.”

The creature- otherwise known as the B.O.W- emerged from behind the forest and entered the churchyard. Its stature was 11 feet, towering over everyone. Its black glistening skin reflected the moonlight as its pearly white eyes penetrated the group of believers. Its horns swirled upwards, reaching up to the sky. The townspeople all bowed to the creature as they chanted its name, “All hail Tervin.”

Leon’s eyes widened as he saw the B.O.W while your eyes widened at the fact that this “messenger” was indeed real. Leon took out his gun and aimed it at the B.O.W. You quickly pulled his arm down and whispered in a harsh tone, “Are you stupid? That thing could be dangerous.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at you, “I’ve fought those things before, I know what I’m doing.” He shook your hands away from his arm and aimed the gun back at the beast.

The beast approached the human sacrifice and with its claws, it picked up. Almost instantly crushing the human, letting the blood fall down like rain on the townspeople.

“Thank you, Lord, for this blessing”

The B.O.W then ate the human sacrifice after the townspeople showered in their blood. A scene so horrific and disturbing, it twisted your stomach upside down. The creeping sensation of the fact that it could’ve been you in that situation only made it worse.

To feel your rib cage cave in, piercing your lungs and heart as blood trickles down your mouth. Its claws clawing into your body, letting the blood flow like water.

It only made you shiver and writhe in disgust.

Leon then began to shoot at the B.O.W with his gun, drawing the attention of the townspeople. One bullet shot the creature’s eye, causing it to stagger backwards in pain. The group of believers all turned to look at you and Leon.

Their faces unrecognizable- their faces foreign as the creases and eyes all felt like distinct people. The group slowly began to walk towards you two as the monster howled in anger.

“God, forgive those sinners. They haven’t sought your guidance. Let us illuminate their path,”

The leader spoke as they approached you and Leon. Anxiety coursed through your body as you saw the B.O.W swing its claws at the group of believers. People flying left and right. The leader turned around and observed in delight.

“Yes, God, yes! We shall sacrifice ourselves for Eden.”

The whole group then began to chant, “For Eden. For Tervin.”

The B.O.W only had one goal in mind- and it was to kill the person who injured it. As Tervin kept walking towards you and Leon, Leon took hold of your wrist and began to ran. He dragged you through the forest back to the motel he was staying in.

He looked the door to his room and turned to look at you, “What the fuck was that!?” Leon was stressing, all these emotions resurfaced and he felt overwhelmed. Why was this happening, how was this happening?

“I told you, they’re fucking evil when it comes to their God,” you replied harshly.

“Yeah I wasn’t exactly expecting your father to be the leader of a cult with that thing as its dog!,” Leon replied as his hands traveled through his face and hair.

You scoffed and crossed your arms over you chest but just as you were to speak, the ground shook. Heavy footsteps were heard and Leon rushed to the window. He peeked through the blinds and saw the group of believers walking over to the motel with Tervin in following them. They kept chanting as they kept walking.

“We need to get out of here now-“ you said as you began to hurry out the door. Leon, however, stopped you.

“I can’t just leave, I have a mission to do and it requires me to kill that thing. I cannot go home until it’s dead,” he said as he stared at you with a resolved expression.

You could only stare at him in silence for a few moments before sighing defeatedly, “Fine, do whatever you want.”

“Stay here,” he instructed as he took his gun and walked out, leaving you alone in his motel room.

In the flickering glow of the moonlight, amidst the eerie chants of the cultists, Leon stood there, gun in hand as he scanned the group. He needed to be smart. They had a B.O.W to their advantage.

As the first cultist lunged forward, knife in hand, Leon countered with swift precision, deflecting the blade with a punch to the gut. His movements were a blur of calculated strikes and evasions. As he killed and wounded the cultists, they grew more frenzied, their chants escalating into desperate cries of fury. Yet, undeterred, Leon continued fighting.

“We must bring him to God!” They chanted as they kept lunging at Leon.

Amidst the chaos, the B.O.W stepped forward, its twisted features contorted with rage as it charged at Leon. With the gun pointed at the beast, he shot bullet after bullet, causing it to slow its movements.

“God, please forgive our brother for he has sinned. We must cleanse him.”

Leon ran out of bullets and just as the B.O.W was about to strike, he saw you throw a pitchfork at it. The blades piercing the creature’s skin, stabbing it right in the chest.

The B.O.W let out a screeching scream, “No! Our messenger!” The leader spoke in anguish as he watched the creature stumble back, falling to the ground with a thud. Leon reloaded his gun and began to shoot again, this time aiming for the head.

As Leon became busy, your father glared at you and it was like something turned in him, “You bitch. I’ve had just about it with you. You will submit to your God and you will repent!”

You’ve never heard him speak to you this way, so much malice in his voice that you didn’t recognize the man that used to be your father.

He lunged at you, his hands trying to reach for your neck to strangle you. You took a nearby torch and set his clothes on fire. He stood back and tried to set the fire off of himself- to which he fails. He screams and cries in pain as he began to get engulfed in the flames of his sins.

“Forgive me, my children!”

You finally understood everything. There was no God because your father believed he was that God. The flames burned up in hues of blue and orange right before the sparks flew into the night sky.

His skin melted, his eyes became a blobby mess and he fell to the ground. His screech becoming more faint as the life in being burnt away from his body. The flames expanding over the dried wheat of the town, engulfing the town in a pit of fire.

Leon had been too busy to even notice that you killed your father. He’s been shooting the B.O.W, making sure to blow its head off once and for all.

After two rounds of reloading, he finally was able to kill that damn thing. Watching it fall to the ground, sending harsh vibrations to the floor as silence overtook the ghostly town.

Heavy panting overtook the two of you as the silence grew deafening. You turned to look at Leon as he stared at the B.O.W all lifeless. You looked around and saw the bloodbath. Everyone was dead.

Pools of blood stained the gravel he once stepped, the lifeless bodies of the townspeople growing cold. The flames being the only source of light under the dark night.

Leon turned to look at you for a brief moment before looking up at sky as he tried to take deep breaths. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. He couldn’t believe what he was brought into. But he was glad it was over. For now at least.

Leon packed his things and went over to his truck, he looked at you, “Aren’t you coming?”

You looked at him and then back at the town- or what remained of the town. You nodded and walked over to his truck.

Both of you driving down the lane of the rose, exiting the town. Passing by a sign that read, “Please visit soon!”

Unaware of the presence with the white eyes watching you two leave the town.

[skelliko]

Kazutora Hanemiya |°- crushing misunderstanding

|°-context: kazutora is crushing on you but he sees you and akkun walking together and assumes that you're both together making kazutora's heart to break not knowing that you and akkun are simply friends - mainly fluff not angst

final time line: 4th Division Captain: Kazutora Hanemiya Vice-captain: Atsushi Sendo (Akkun)

kazutora couldn't help but notice the scene that he had accidentally stumbled upon on, before he was gonna ignore it and think nothing much of it until he double looked and his heart managed to stagger in emotions, akkun walking with his school crush. kazutora's school crush.

despite akkun being Vice-captain of the forth division and them being good friends there's still things that kazutora doesn't mention and one of them being is who his heart flutters to.

his mind went to so many scenarios and reasons as to why, out of everyone it'd be you two who walk together and not only that but also holding little brown bakery bags, as if you both had bought a sweet desert together, and are about to enjoy it in each others company.

'no no no no no... their not though? are they?!' his mind was more than a mess

theres no other explanation other than your both either on a date or dating. or even worse, in an actual relationship. kazutora's mind went to so many lengths as he pondered and stalked you both, hiding behind corners, bushes and bus stops to wherever you both are walking to,

he was desperate to find out what was going on even though he knows he needs to let go and back tf up.

'akkun has never mentioned having a girlfriend though, let alone that he's talking to a girl...' that certainly reassured him a little but only for a few seconds when his overthinking took over again

'but maybe that's cause no one asked or mentioned anything! and here he is with the girl that I like, for fucks sake!'

he tried to get close to the both of you to try and hear what you guys were talking about but while doing so self awareness had hit him, he didn't want to get caught lurking around, if a bystander seen what kazutora was doing then a clear title would be placed on him 'stalker'

he kind of just stood there in the middle of the pathway, watching as the both of you walked ahead having your own little moment. it was like kazutora was a small puppy being cast out and away from it's owners. for a short moment he had grown upset, he accepted that him and you were never gonna be because Akkun has already taken your attention.

when he took half a step backwards to turn around and not invade your privacy any longer, it was then that you had turned around making kazutora to be captivated. it wasn't just your beauty that had made him freeze and his heart to grow wings and flutter but it was you smiling and waving at him... him, kazutora, no one else, your eyes were stuck onto kazutora.

his heart was left uncontrolled and skipped all around his body whilst his main focus was to bite down the corner of the inside of his mouth to stop him from smiling like a little kid and getting all giddy for you just simply noticing him. it felt unreal to him in that moment that he had forgotten to wave back, and he was too busy on not smiling like an idiot that he didn't even smile back at all. well now he feels like a complete fool and should be shut out of society forever.

*inserts image of grieving shinji on a chair* -how kazutora feels right now

a whole week went by after that encounter, and since then in school kazu and you haven't had a full conversation, sure you've exchanged a few small words but then he'd cut it off with an excuse to leave all due to wanting to give respect for you and akkun.

before, the both of you would be talking non stop in the middle of lesson, being the teachers most annoying students that can't shut up and are always an nuisance to deal with. it's gotten to the point where after you both stoped talking even the teacher pointed it out Infront of the whole class, "some argument happened between you two?" like c'mon... why is it always those teachers that think they can get involved and think pointing things out to be funny. they get in-between everything.

it left an empty pit in his stomach not being able to talk to you the way he wants to. all because in this setting he chose to put his friends first before himself.

-- some time later ---

"so akkun, you got any plans with y/n?" asking that question hurt him more than it should have, but he needs to get over it soon enough. only after he gets an understanding at what stage the both of you are at. 3 month mark? secretly wishing.

"don't think so, why'd you ask?"

"nothing nothing, just curious. I'm surprised that she'd be with someone like you" it was supposed to come out as regular boy banter and laugh it off but instead he didn't watch his tone and grew blunt about it as if he'd meant it. in which he did.

it took akkun a few silent seconds to process his response and what kazu had just assumed "be with?" purposely ignoring kazutora's sudden burst of agitation and instead focusing on the question itself. "you think me and her are together... as in dating?"

"well you two seem to be quite close, no?"

"kazutora. no. were friends, full heartedly friends" while motioning his hands out to emphasize how baffling and wrong kazutora's question was.

if crickets were around the city they'd be loud, but instead all there could be heard was the click of kazu's tongue before replying "...Oh. shit"

akkun couldn't help but snort out a laugh, whereas kazutora on the other end was looking back and regretting everything which included ignoring you. but he had a good reason to, right? I mean how exactly was he supposed to know that you two were just friends?

many ways actually, sure, but he put his friends first and that's what had mattered, before at least. now, kazutora is trying to figure out ways on how to approach you without seeming like a douche for abruptly leaving and then coming back.

"wait, you like her??" it only then clicked into akkun's head making him perk up about why you even became a conversation topic.

"I bet she hates me" burrowing his face into his hands and feeling all sulky. didn't fully answer akkun's question but that small sentence answered a lot without meaning to.

"you do! you like-like her!" first time hearing about this and he instantly stood up from his seat, oh he was gonna have fun with this information. he can either tease the hell out of kazutora or help him out. but currently he'll torment him first.

"keep it down! dont need anyone hearing" lifting his head up from his hands and looking around the open area

"who's gonna hear? I'm not name dropping, or unless you're embarrassed" tormenting kazutora by making him think of you.

"of course not... maybe. but that's besides the point" kazu ended up explaining things from how he saw you and akkun but left out some details such as him following them to how things went with you and kazu at school.

"dug yourself a hole there I'll be honest, why didn't you ask me first before assuming?" -akkun

"didn't want to draw much attention on the subject"

"oh right right..." not right actually, don't exactly know what that was supposed to mean but didn't want to press on about it. after a short moment of silence it seemed like something was supposed to be done otherwise dragging the gap between you and kazu any further and it might be too much to fix. though luckily a little plan had settled into akkun's mind, after all he was close enough to you to be considered good friends. "I'll help you, don't worry"

♡----

a/n: I could have written the plan/aftermath n' that but I got lazy

[tonyspank]

HEART

Warnings: Swearing, Frankie, bad writing and a taser?

A/N: Currently writing the next chapter for The Party & The After Party, also this could be read as GN! , there's a few mentions that you're a female tho

Words: 2.7k

Tara Carpenter x Female! Reader

Being Chad Meek's best friend had a lot of benefits. Including, knowing when a party was happening. This is exactly how you found yourself at this house party, dressed up as Spider-Man.

You knew Chad from your football team, he was your quarterback and you were the first female wide receiver to ever play in Blackmore University or the NCAA division in general.

Due to that everyone knew who you were, but you didn't care about the fame or the popularity, you just wanted to enjoy college and get to play football alongside your best friend.

There had been times when people would try to befriend or even date you for your name instead of your actual personality, and it made it hard for you to truly make friends or fall for someone.

Your trust issues began when your ex-girlfriend cheated on you with Frankie. She was the first person (other than Chad) to introduce herself to you and show you around campus.

The two of you started dating about three months after your friendship, and something always felt a little off. It felt as if you were on the same page but on different levels. You wanted to stay out and watch stupid thriller movies and cuddle on the couch while she wanted to go out to parties and show you off anytime she could.

You and Kayla did have a couple of things in common, you got along well, but if anything it was intuitively that you were more like friends or whatever. Sure, you guys were intimate but it still didn't feel right, you were never in love.

And you surely knew she didn't love you.

Especially, after seeing her under Frankie in your own dorm room.

Yeah, that was very disrespectful.

She then proceeded to tell you that she never liked you and only used you for Instagram followers and more friends. Yes, it hurt. But it was better to have her out of your life than to be living with a lie.

After your breakup with Kayla, you thought you'd be sad, but in reality, it just opened up your eyes a bit more. You felt more at ease.

"What's wrong with my sweatpants?" You ask, your voice slightly muffled through the Spider-Man masking over your face.

"I'm telling you I've never seen Spider-Man wear sweatpants," Chad tells you, taking a sip of his drink. You playfully roll your eyes looking over to Ethan for his help, noticing he speaks up.

"Actually, he does in the Miles Morales Spider-Man and Andrew Garfield's Spider-Man did behind the scenes."

"But none of that is live action," Chad argues his case causing you to let out a sigh.

"Regardless of how uncanon my Spider-sweats are." Chad furrows his eyebrows shaking his head as you continue, "I still have the best costume here."

"I think Ethan's outfit is pretty cute," Chad says, motioning to Ethan who smiles in response. You jokingly pinch the curly-haired boys' cheeks, "Yeah, but Ethan's just cute in general."

Ethan slaps away your hand while Chad shrugs nodding in agreement. "I'm going to go bother the lovebirds!" You quickly announce, patting Chad's shoulder before leaving.

You make your way through drunk college students and sweaty bodies before noticing Mindy and Anika cuddled up on the couch, walking over you softly push them apart, sitting right between them.

Mindy sends you a playfully fake smile leaning in close to whisper, "I'm going to fucking beat your ass after this party." She fake laughs afterwards noticing that Anika is watching. You fake laugh as well, but side-eye Mindy in slight fear which she can't see due to the Spider-Man covering your face.

Anika is about to say something but her eyes wander off, worry filling her face. Both you and Mindy follow her view, and you notice a female pirate walking alongside Frankie.

You clench your jaw as Anika voices her worries, "Ohhh, I don't love that." Mindy hums in agreement, Anika quickly gets up, softly grabbing the pirate's arm. She turns around with a smile listening to her friend. "Hey, wanna call it a night?"

The smile is still prominent on her face she looks around before answering, "No, uh. I actually think that I'm still going to hang, but you guys don't have to wait for me."

Frankie speaks up with a smirk on his face, "Don't worry. I'll take care of her, I'm Frankie."

Anika shakes her head, "And I'm spectacularly uninterested in knowing anything about you." Frankie scoffs in response while the female Captain Hook laughs, leaning in as she lowers her voice. "No, dude. Anika, I'm not that bad."

She takes a few steps back, slightly walking away. "But I appreciate you looking out for me." Frankie sends Anika a cocky smile before following the dark-haired girl.

You decide now is the time to step in, "I'm going to go help her." Mindy nods her head, sitting up on the couch as you walk over to Anika.

"I'll follow her. You get Chad." You instruct, Anika mumbles, "Okay." And you both walk off in different directions.

"Aren't you that girl involved in that 'Stab' shit in California last year?" You hear Frankie as, she lets out a chuckle, "No. That's a different pirate."

Standing at the end of the steps you speak up, "Frankie! Hey, why don't we keep the party down here? I'd hate to miss out."

Frankie and the pirate turn around at your voice, and you feel Chad beside you. "I think we're good Y/L/N." He replies, recognizing your voice through the mask.

"Well, Tara's good down here." Chad joins in, and immediately Frankie responds. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch that."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, you did." Chad remarks, trying his best to stay calm. Tara walks down a couple of steps, standing in front of you and Chad. "No, Chad it's fine. I want to."

Frankie walks down too, getting close to Chad's face. "Yeah, see Chad? It's fine she wants to." He turns back around but not before roughly grabbing Tara by her arm, she lets out an, "Ow." and you swiftly grab Frankie by his shirt, pulling him down the stairs.

"Don't fucking grab her like that." You push him away into the wall and a crowd suddenly appears, you don't notice Chad checking on Tara as you're focused on the Frat boy in front of you.

He pushes you back, "Get the fuck off me!" Tara removes herself from Chad's grip walking behind you and gripping your Spider-suit as much as she can, using all of her drunken strength to pull you away from Frankie. "Guys! Guys stop."

Chad angrily steps in, grabbing Frankie by his shirt, and pushing him onto the ground. And as you're being pulled away by Tara, Mindy walks in waving a hand basically telling you to go help Chad.

You glance at Chad then Tara who's shocked at the sight going on in front of you, then at Mindy. You knew Chad could handle himself for a couple of seconds until you got the drunk pirate out of the situation before she hurt herself trying to split up another fight.

"Excuse me!" You shout at the crowd, nearly everyone steps out of your way as you slightly and as softly as you can pull Tara away. Your heart drops when someone suddenly appears in front of you, "Hi! Sorry to interrupt, I'm just going to tase you really quick." Before you could plead your case, you feel a sharp pain in your stomach causing you to drop to your knees.

"Fuck!" You yell out, slapping your hand against the wooden floor. It felt like every muscle in your stomach had a Charlie horse, and you couldn't help but stay curled up on the ground even while Mindy rushed to your side, alongside Tara asking you if you were okay.

Chad was also there too, with a bloody nose. He takes off your mask, showing everyone your squinted eyes, furrowed eyebrows, and your parted lips.

Sam stands there, confused and guilty. Did she tase the wrong person?

"Sam! You tased the wrong person!" Mindy shouts at her. Oh. She did tase the wrong person.

You roll over onto your back, your hands on top of your stomach and you sit up. The group is silent, waiting for your reaction. "Fuck... that really hurt." You mumble, letting out a small laugh after.

Chad smiles, confused but begins laughing with you and everyone soon joins in, helping you up from the ground. As Chad and Mindy both have your arm making sure you were okay Sam walks up, and her face is filled with guilt.

"Holy shit! It's that psycho girl!" Someone yells out from the crowd. Sam sends a slight glare before turning her head back toward you.

"Shit. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to—" You cut her off with a wave, "It's okay." You then tell the twins you're okay, and they reluctantly let you go.

You look around looking for Frankie who definitely deserved the thirty seconds of pain you went through. Noticing he's gone you now focus on Chad, who whips his nose with a smirk on his face.

"I won the fight." He informs you with a jolly smile on his face.

-

Tara storms in front of the group, in embarrassment and anger at her sister.

"Tara! Will you stop!" Tara doesn't stop but only slightly turns her head to speak to her sister. "I cannot believe you did that, you embarrassed me!" Tara faces the front again, continuing her struts.

"I was trying to help you!" Tara turns around, upset if it wasn't obvious before. "And look what happened!" She raises her voice, motioning to you. Your face heats up in embarrassment, as you scratch your nose.

"You're out of my life for five years then you can't even leave me alone for five seconds!" She shouts, throwing her arms up.

"Because you're not dealing with what happened to us. Have you ever gone to see the counsellor at least once?" You look around the group, seeing Mindy let out a sigh watching the scene unfold in front of her.

"No, and I'm not going to." Sam shakes her head, "Why not!"

"Because I'm uninterested in living in the past like you are." Sam furrows her eyebrows, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Chad then takes in a deep breath, tired of the back and forth between the two siblings. "Hey, guys, come on—" He's unheard or ignored as Tara continues. "It means I'm not gonna let what happen to us for three days define the rest of my life!"

"So you're just going to pretend it never happened?" Tara closes her eyes, trying to calm down, and when she reopens them her tone is softer than before.

"What are you doing here Sam? In New York." Sam scoffs, as Tara continues. "I mean y-you're working two shitty jobs to help with.. rent, whatever, but what's your plan?" She stumbles a bit on her words, and you think it's due to the alcohol in her system.

Sam slightly shakes her head, not knowing what to say as Tara proceeds with her point. "I know what I'm going to do. Okay? Because I'm going to keep going to college, I'm going to get my degree, and I'm gonna live my life."

You twist your lips and shift your weight from one foot to another.

"My life," Tara says, slapping her hand against her chest. "That I know." Sam eyes her sister with a slight furrow in her eyebrows. "You just follow me here and you won't let me out of your sight."

"Just trying to look out for you." Tara speaks up, "I—" but cuts herself off, letting out a sigh as she runs her hands down her face. "I know. I know you are."

"You can't do it for the rest of my life though, you have to let me go." There are footsteps heard coming up, Tara turns her head and before anyone could react or say something, Sam is getting a drink splashed onto her.

The girl yells out, "Murderer!" as her one of friends records. Sam gives the girl a shove causing her to slightly stumble back, quickly Chad and you hold Sam back not wanting her to do anything rash. "Fuck is wrong with you, bitch!"

The girl points at Sam, "You guys should stay away from her. She knows what she did!" Sam pushes Chad away, and Tara joins in with you trying to hold back her surprisingly strong sister. "I didn't fucking do anything!"

"Sure, bitch." The girl says, walking away backwards with her friends.

As the group walks away you stand back waiting for Sam as she rings out her shirt, Ethan takes notice of this, walking back and offering her tissues. She eyes the boy before taking the tissues out of his hand. Ethan walks off once Sam looks at him.

You walk to Sam, offering her your Spider-Man mask, "Uh, it's not a tissue but I'm sure it'll help?" She shakes her head waving it off.

"Also, um. I'm Y/N, and for what it's worth I think you're a good sister for trying." She stares at you a bit before nodding, and you begin walking away following the group.

Before you know it you're standing in the middle of the Carpenter-Bailey's living room, awkwardly. Chad is settling down, taking off his jacket and hat and putting on a t-shirt.

Sam, Tara, and Quinn were all in their selected rooms as the rest of you were in the living room.

"Chad?" He hums in response turning around to face you, "I think I'm going to leave."

"Oh, okay. Need me to walk you home?" He genuinely asks, you shake your head. "Nah, it's fine. Tell Tara and Sam it was nice to meet them."

You wave goodbye to Mindy and Anika who are sitting on the couch in front of you before exiting the apartment.

Moments pass and Tara's back in the living room, looking around. "What are you looking for?" Mindy laughs confused, Tara looked like a lost puppy as she searched around the small apartment.

"Where'd she go?" The two girls and Chad furrow their eyebrows. "Who?" Anika asks.

"Uh, Chad's friend." She utters, embarrassed. Mindy immediately noticed how pink Tara's cheeks were and the paper in her hand. Mindy shoots up from the couch, "What's that?"

Tara's eyes move to Mindy's view, she quickly pockets the folded note. "Nothing! I just felt bad that Sam tased the fuck out of them when they wanted to help me."

Mindy turns her head at Anika and Chad, raising her eyebrows and they instantly get the message. Tara thinks you're cute, and that note would confirm it. "Oh!" Chad says, standing up from his chair. "I could always give it to her."

Tara's eyes leave Mindy and go to Chad, "Really?" She says hopefully, "You wouldn't read it right?"

Quickly he shakes his head, "No. No. No! Of, course not!" He holds out his hand so Tara can give him the note, and she does. Anika watches this from the couch, but her jaw drops when she sees Mindy's hand snatch the note and runs to her with it.

"Mindy!" Tara shouts, trying to run after her but Chad grabs her, and all Tara can do is watch Mindy open her note in, reading it out loud.

"hi! this is tara, the pirate from the party. sorry that we had to meet on such terms, please let me make it up to you, from tara. HEART!" Mindy reads, shouting the last bit.

Chad lets Tara go with a shocked face, and Tara covers her own face in embarrassment.

Everyone's head turns to the door, noticing you standing there. "Hi..." You awkwardly, mumble out. "I forgot my mask." You tell them, pointing at it beside Anika on the couch.

Mindy looks at the mask, then at you. "How long have you been here?"

"Um.." You scratch your eyebrow. "Long enough to accept Tara's proposal." You laugh, with a cheeky smile.

Tara smiles widely, her face nearly as red as a tomato.

[thewertsearch]

AG: Tavros, you give confidence a 8ad name. I gave you all the chances in the world to earn it, to earn REAL confidence, and you failed.

Pictured: Vriska giving Tavros 'a chance to earn real confidence'.

AG: You couldn't even do the one little thing I asked you to! The one thing that would have made you man up once and for all.

'Man up' is a funny idiom for a troll to use. We've occasionally seen trolls fall into human gender stereotypes, but it's quite rare, and always sticks out like a sore thumb.

There's an interesting conversation to be had about troll genders. With a reproductive cycle so different to ours, their gender framework will inevitably be different as well. Yes, there are male and female trolls - but what do male and female actually mean to a troll?

On Earth, your assigned gender carries cultural baggage which simply wouldn't exist on Alternia. Assigned gender plays no role in reproduction, nor does it influence household division of labor, since trolls don't have households.

Gender aside, do trolls have a concept of masculine and feminine? Beyond a few stray idioms, the only evidence I can find is their clothing styles. We haven't seen any male trolls rocking a skirt - not yet, at least.

tl;dr: 'Man up' is a cultural can of worms. I think that was probably unintentional, though, and I think we're supposed to interpret that line as if a human spoke it. Vriska's calling Tavros a wimp, which is business as usual.

AG: So instead you flew away and cried, and decided to sleep away your sorrow for the rest of the adventure.

Tavros already alluded to this incident during his conversation with Jade. I guessed that Vriska would be involved, but that was a bit of a no-brainer.

Vriska's trying to frame Tavros as pathetic, but it sounds like he actually put his foot down, flat-out refusing to participate in whatever she had planned. Much like the FLARP incident, this sounds like a victory for Tavros, even if she's convinced him otherwise.

AG: Do you have any idea how sick that made me? Everything a8out you makes me sick.

He rejects your advice. He rejects your advances. His lusus cared for him. He was allowed to be kind, and accepts kindness from others. He doesn't care about winning, but he never lets you win. No matter how much you torment him, he refuses to get any stronger, which means your mindset might be wrong.

'Sick' would be an understatement.

AG: Your plan to control her lusus really wasn't a 8ad idea! AG: And using your a8ility to "save her life" (lol) was a pretty good way to test how effective your powers are across sessions. [...] AG: Practicing your a8ilities is important, so when it comes down to using them for something that really matters, you know you're ready for prime time. AG: I know this first hand. AG: I got lots and lots and LOTS of practice with your little guinea pig friend. ::::D

So that's why Jade was constantly napping? That can't have been good for her brain.

AG: The catch is it's not going to work! [...] AG: You couldn't sic the guardian on Noir even if you were inclined. Not even if I were to MAKE you inclined! :::;)

Like I said before, it's really Vriska who can control First Guardians.

AG: 8ecause you are dealing with a pro here. I already thought of that. AG: I thought of everything! AG: The guardian is not going to attack the agents who engineered him in the first place. AG: Or who I should say were "encouraged" (lol) to engineer him.

Why the fuck would you do this?

When Vriska prototyped Bec, she explained that the event was mandated by the Alpha Timeline, so she didn't make anything worse by causing it. I don't agree with her argument, but I do understand her logic.

This is different. Up until now, there has been no evidence that Bec can't harm Agents. Vriska had no prophecy to fulfil, and no reason to believe that this was required to preserve the timeline. Yes, now we know it's baked into the timeline, but only because Vriska wanted it.

Having Bec help with Jack was a really good idea, and removing the option to do so helps no one. Where's the benefit?

AT: wHY WOULD YOU DO THAT, AG: Tavros, at this point it should 8e o8vious. AG: I am the unseen hand 8ehind every major event in their session, and to some extent, their whole lives. AG: At least those events not happening 8y the volition of their own natural incompetence! AG: Don't you think this is how it should 8e? Shouldn't the greatest player leave her fingerprints on every step of the rise to power of her ultim8 nemesis?

I know Vriska likes to feel in control, but this is ridiculous.

Inserting yourself into Alpha loops is one thing, but nerfing Bec when you don't have to is straight-up sabotage. Couldn't she just stick to micromanaging John's outfits?

AG: I have every angle covered already. The human session is on full Serket lockdown. Any effort you make to disrupt my plans will 8e laugha8le, just like everything you have ever done in your life. AG: The only thing left to do now is prepare to kill Jack myself, and save everyone's ungrateful asses.

Oh my god, I think I've cracked it.

Vriska thinks she's the only one with the right to kill Jack.

She describes him as her ultimate nemesis, which reeks of main character syndrome. Bec isn't important enough to kill Jack, so she eliminated him as an option. It has to be her, the most powerful Player, who's gained all the levels, because that is how these things are done.

It's not just ego, either - there's a deeper motivation at play. If Vriska doesn't beat Jack, she doesn't win - and if she doesn't win, then what was all that abuse were all those challenges for? What was the point?

In Vriska's head, Jack needs to be her nemesis. She needs to be destined to kill him - because if she is, then everything she went through was justified. She'll have secured her position as the most powerful Player of all, and she'll never have to be jealous of anyone again - least of all that wimp with his sweet little fairy lusus. They're all weak, and she's strong.

If she doesn't kill Jack, she's a loser.

And losers may as well be dead.

[gouraminnow]

Galley on 4th

Pt. 2 (Modern AU- Yandere Thatch x gender neutral reader)

Part 1 | Ao3

Raising your kid sister all by yourself is hard enough on it's own. But add classes, poverty, and several jobs to juggle and the pressure builds awfully fast. Most employers will drop you on a whim and it's all you can do to stay afloat… So when you somehow manage to land a well-paying position at The Galley on 4th Avenue, a famous, high-end place run by some well renowned Chef- You're desperate to hold things down. Good thing your new Boss is so friendly and understanding, huh?

Warnings: Not much for this chapter. General themes of poverty, hints of yandere sketchiness

Kind of a filler chapter! Mostly setting up Reader and Grub's relationship + background characters. Wish there were more named WBP members outside of the commanders, I'd make the restaurant staff canon 4th division characters if I could. Ah well, I still like my ocs lol. There WILL be more reader/Thatch interaction in the NEXT chapter! Happy Holidays to those who celebrate!

Despite the hell of a day you’d had, it turned out to be… a pretty good night, somehow. Thatch didn’t even stay that long- not that you could blame him. If he thought the way he’d been skulking around your kitchen was slick he had another thing coming. And while it was nice he hadn’t said anything rude, you still didn’t appreciate the… looking. You just didn’t want to cause a scene in front of Grub. Or at all, really, if it means this goes away… you think, watching the kid pile her plate high with a gap-toothed grin. Your boss had left pretty soon after Grub’s attention was stolen by the food, but not before leaving you his phone number and insisting you let him know if you needed help with anything. You had nodded dumbly, stumbling through another quiet thank-you before he escorted himself out.

And that was it.

You stood quietly in front of the closed door for a moment, the rustling of Grub rifling through bags seeming much farther than it really was. “EARWIG!” She shouts, waving at you from the table. “Come on, come EAT! It’s GOOD!”

“Don’t call me that,” you sigh, words falling from your lips as you turn to trudge back to the table. “... But you’re right, I should eat.” She grins, shoving a white box of buttered rolls towards you- the pull-apart kind.

“Look look look! There’s so many of them! I didn’t know they came attached!” She exclaims excitedly. You smile, reaching across the table to ruffle her hair.

“Yep. Crazy world we live in, huh kiddo? Pace yourself, yeah? I’m excited too, but don’t make yourself sick sweetheart.” She sticks her tongue out, scooping some potatoes onto her plate. “Hey, you put that back!” You playfully scold, pointing to her mouth and she giggles. “I’m serious though, eat slowly. You wouldn’t want to throw up the good stuff, would you?”

She looks at you thoughtfully for a moment, eyes narrowing- then she sighs, and flops against the back of the chair with a sullen expression. “Ugh. I guess not…” Your eyes soften. “Hey, kid, I’m not saying you can’t eat, just that you have to do it slowly, okay? Don’t sulk, now.”

Grub slowly sits up, resting her knobby elbows on the kitchen table. Her wide eyes regard you sternly from behind her bangs- you should probably trim those, soon. “Does this…” she starts, before looking around and lowering her voice almost conspiratorially. “Does this mean we can have seconds tonight..?”

You scoff, but inside your chest you feel your heart clench. It was… normal to try and ration things for a couple days. Whether it was takeout, or you managed to buy some decent pasta the kid didn’t hate the texture of and made a big pot of something with it… it was expected that the both of you would only have one serving of each. You had been thinking of doing the same thing here, honestly- just acting on autopilot until she had asked. But… neither of you really had access to a spread like this since… since your old family dinners.

Since long before you took Grub, and ran.

You relax the muscles you hadn’t realized you had been tensing, and smile warmly at your baby sister. “Of course we can, kiddo. Actually- do you want to put on a movie, too? It’s the weekend, after all.”

And the grin she gives you isn’t one you’d trade for the world.

-

She’s very energetic in the morning, you quickly learn- when you’re torn from dreamland by her little hands violently shaking your shoulders. “EARWIG! BREAKFAST TIME! BREAKFAST!” She yells while you try to figure out where the hell you are. Is this a rollercoaster? Car crash, maybe?

“K-kid- jesus, I’m awake, I’m awake! Yes! Breakfast! Very exciting!” You stammer, forgetting your wrist when you try to grab at her. That familiar jolt of pain shoots up your arm, and that seems to do the trick because Grub finally stops.

“Oh, um… Sorry, I forgot…” She mumbles as you lie dazed in your own bed. Well… shared bed. You technically had a twin sized mattress for the Grub, but she always seemed to find her way into your bed. You’d wake up with her curled up in front of you, little hands clutching at whatever nightshirt you were wearing, and eventually you stopped trying to dissuade her. The twin bed was just another storage space now, extra sheets and blankets kept underneath and all her plushies carefully arranged on top. You raise your good hand, giving the kid a thumbs-up.

“S’fine, I forgot too,” you confess, strained voice still heavy with sleep. Your hand drops to rub at your eyes, then the bridge of your nose while you try to blink the blurriness away. “Ugh. What time is it, kid?” you ask, rolling onto your side. She had turned the lights on and the curtains were drawn, so you couldn’t be sure. It certainly felt early, though. You knew she typically got up before you, allowing you to slip in and out of sleep for a couple more hours.

Your vision comes into focus in time to see Grub bashfully pull away, arms folded behind her back. She’s wearing the oversized tie-dye shirt the two of you made a few months back, when she was home sick for some sort of classroom art activity. “It’s seven…” She mumbles. “B-but I was excited for breakfast, a-and I didn’t wanna eat without you! I already waited a whole half-hour!”

You stare at her for a moment. That’s… sweet, even if you still want to sleep… you sigh, folding your arm over your face. “Alright, kiddo. I’ll be up in a bit, okay? We’ll try one of the soups, I’ll heat it up on the stove…” You punctuate your words with a yawn. “Then I’m gonna take a nap. Okay?”

“Okay!” She cheers, the volume rattling your brain inside your skull. Ugh. Guess it’s time to get up now… you toss the old blankets aside, stretch until your back cracks, and then swing your legs over the edge of the bed, settling your feet against the itchy gray carpet. You’d been meaning to get some sort of mat to set down by the bed, something softer and less… grimy, but it was hardly a priority. You trudge your way into the bathroom. Grub has long since left you in the dust, and you can hear whatever cartoons she’s put on in the living room. You amble your way down the hall, to the doorways at the end- one leading into the kitchen, and the one on the other side leading into the bathroom. The yellowed tiles are cracked, and the buzzing of the flickering light irritates you, but luckily brushing your teeth doesn’t take all that long. Grub loudly sings along to some gratingly cheerful theme song in the other room. You finish brushing, and then go to re-wrap your wrist. Delicately peeling the fabric away, you wince. Dark purple marks gather around your wrist, fading into other shades as the blooms of discoloration spreads from either side. You flex your fingers, as a test- paying close attention to the twinges it causes. You had been… ignoring those, when you had other things to do, but now you were face to face with the fact that this was a lot worse than what you had thought. 

Well, alright. This shouldn’t be a problem, you can manage! You have two days before you have to go anywhere. Two days you don’t have to work. You opt to keep it unwrapped, for now- bracing an icepack between your arm and your chest while you warm up the food should work, and you only need one hand to eat.

So that’s how it goes, injured arm awkwardly folded against your chest while you reheat Millie’s chowder on the stove, stirring slowly with an old wooden spoon, fingers catching on the spots where the wood grain fibers have been picked at. Some of the rolls are being reheated in the oven, so as to crisp them up rather than letting the microwave leave them… strange. Microwaved bread sucks. Somehow both chewier and soggier than it was initially. Horrible texture, just awful.

Grub is nice enough to fetch bowls and utensils without being asked, dragging around that old little step stool you’d found at a garage sale. She’s… surprisingly quiet today, aside from your abrupt awakening- no chatter as she sets the bowls onto the counter next to the stove, nor when she fetches the oven mit for you. “Thanks, button,” you coo, taking a brief break from stirring to rub her head. She hugs your waist, before hopping back. “This should be warm enough now, I think,” you mumble, raising the spoon to your lips to confirm your thoughts.

Oh wow. Millie knows what she’s doing, this stuff is good. You’ll be sure to tell her in person on Monday.

You ladle a portion into each bowl, telling Grub to be careful as she rushes to the table with hers. You smile, turning the burner off, and remove the rolls from the oven before turning that off, as well. Setting the pan onto the empty burners beside the pot of chowder, you take your own bowl to your spot at the table- across from the kid. “Bread has to cool a little bit, but help yourself once it does, kiddo.” Grub nods- already at least a third of the way through the bowl you’d given her. She still hasn’t said much, other than when she woke you up. Normally you have to remind her not to talk with her mouth full. You exhale slowly. “Hey Grub? Is… everything okay, sweetheart..?” 

She pauses her chewing, eyes flitting between your worried face and her bowl of chowder. She gulps, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “Um… I just…” She starts, but trails off.

“Hey, it’s alright,” you assure her softly. “Do you want seconds, again? Is that it? We can, if you want.”

Her little brows knit together and she huffs, staring down at her soup. “... I want to eat like this more. D-do you think, um, Breadhead will do this again..?” You snort a laugh, shoving your uneasiness down.

You… don’t want to promise her anything. You’d like to eat like this more too, truthfully. “Well, Thatch is… pretty friendly. I didn’t expect him to do any of this, honestly…” Your turn to go quiet. “I guess, m-maybe I could, um…” The idea alone makes the words hard to get out, like sharp stones digging into your throat as you dredge them up. “... I-I think I could ask,” you offer her.

She smiles a little bit. “We have enough for the weekend, at least…” she says, and you can hear the squeaking of her chair as she swings her little legs. “Then you can get more on Monday, maybe…”

“I’ll see what I can do, kiddo. Might not bring back as much, but I’ll make sure you get something.”

She’s quiet for a moment, staring down at her chowder and swinging her legs. “Yeah, I know,” she eventually says.

The rest of breakfast is quiet, but not unpleasant. Grub has a second, smaller helping of soup and two bread rolls- that kid sure can put a lot away. Weekends are nice. You have an online class to attend on Saturdays, but for the rest of it- no responsibilities other than Grub. You always make sure to put some time aside for the kid, whether it’s an art project, cooking something together, going to the park… but it’s been cold and wet outside lately, so you opt to stay in. She’s gone over to Miss Howell’s apartment for a shower and some cocoa while you have class- your shower doesn’t work. You typically head over and borrow it as well, once your class is over.

Edith Howell was a sweet old woman who lived across the hall. She didn’t talk about herself much, but she was always willing to help you and for that- you were extremely grateful. It wasn’t just letting you use her amenities- she’s the one who picks up Grub when you work evenings. She has a dayjob at a kitschy little craft store, and often had something to give Grub. Your sister thought she was awesome, because anyone who would humor her mischievousness earned points in her book- plus she thought the surname of “Howell” made her sound like a werewolf. Edith humored the kid, even getting one of those classic but tacky three-wolf-moon shirts, which Grub thought was awesome.

Finishing up the lecture, you huff. Finally. You stand, and stretch- waiting for that familiar kink in your back to sort itself out. You weren’t… particularly passionate about medical care, but it does pay pretty well. But it’s endlessly frustrating how you struggle to afford the very same treatments you’re currently learning about. Your eyes flicker to your still-aching wrist. Getting a proper brace for it might be a good idea… maybe you could find something cheaper online?

… Maybe you’d look later.

You stand up from your rickety chair, stepping into your slippers, gathering a change of clothes and ambling into the living room, with the intention of embarking on the grand commute that was the door across the hall. With a warm set of pajamas tucked under your bad arm, you swing open the door with the good one and close it behind you.

Ugh. 

The hall light is flickering again, and it always whines- a low buzzing that settles in the back of your head. It never fails to agitate Grub, who makes a competition of spending as little time in these yellow, moldering corridors as possible, the same way she races you to bed after flicking off the bedroom lights. You take the four steps it takes to cross the hall, cringing at the way your slippers stick to the floor slightly every time you lift your feet. You don’t knock, just opening the door and walking right in. Edith expects you on Saturdays, and you know her hips bother her. No reason to make her walk to the door when greeting each other once inside works just fine.

“Hi, Edith! Grub! I’m here!” you call out in the entryway. You hear the tv playing something, some shuffling, and then Grub is darting toward you. You hear Edith’s laughter from the living room as your sister’s little arms encircle you, your good hand automatically moving to ruffle the kid’s hair- “Kid, your hair’s still wet,” you comment, hand recoiling.

Grub looks up at you, pouting. “It’s fiiiine,” she whines. “I don’t like how the dryer sounds, an’ using a towel pulls my hair!”

You sigh, shaking your head. “You’re awfully sensitive,” you jab, but there’s only humor behind it. Grub sticks her tongue out at you, then sinks down- sitting firmly on top of your right foot while her limbs wrap tightly around your leg. You quirk a brow, head slowly tilting as you stare back down at her. “Oh, this is what we’re doing, hmm?” The kid grins, bursting into a fit of giggles as her fingers dig in. “Alright, here we go! HUP!” You lurch forward, dragging her along with you. She doesn’t get much air, but she’s having fun regardless.

“Hi, Miss Howl!” you greet, dragging a laughing Grub along with you as you slowly lurch your way into the living room. “Sorry, it’s gonna take me a bit, I seem to have some sort of growth,” you say, finally in view of the old woman sitting on her floral-patterned couch, old shelf of kitschy glass animal figures and craft projects standing a little ways behind her. She’s wearing a long, dark brown skirt, and that cheesy t-shirt she bought to humor your sister. Her apartment is a little nicer than yours, mostly in terms of furnishings- you’ve always been a little envious of her lacy curtains. But the conditions of the building itself still shine through. The linoleum kitchen floor is still warped and the wallpaper is peeling.

“What a shame,” she tuts, shaking her bespectacled head, the few gray, flyaway strands of hair that escaped her bun swaying. “I hear getting rid of those is rough.”

“Normally, that’s true,” you comment, looking down at your giggling sister. “Lucky for me, I’ve got an efficient, low-cost method of enucleation,” you say, grinning slyly at her. Before Grub realizes the game you’re playing, your free hand shoots down and you run your fingers up and down her sides, your tickling immediately earning you a thrashing Grub and peals of hysterical laughter. She flails, arms and legs unwrapping, and your good arm quickly loops around under her arms to keep her from falling backward. Can’t have her hitting her head. Or anything, preferably. 

She straightens herself out with a huff, and you let go- standing back up and stepping away. You gesture vaguely at her. “See? Easy and free.”

“Cheater!” Grub pouts, but your host just laughs.

“I’ll have to remember that little trick,” she chuckles, adjusting her glasses. She moves to stand, and you instinctively move forward to help, but she raises a flattened hand in a silent gesture to stop. “Oh, don’t be like that, I can manage,” she huffs, taking a moment to stretch once she’s on her feet. “I’m hardly an invalid, yet,” she quips, flashing you a wry smile.

“Ah, sorry, I just-”

“None of that either! Come on now, hon.” She continues chastising. You feel your face growing warmer.

“Yeah, Earwig, none of that either!” Grub pipes up cheekily. You turn to where she still sits on the floor, arms crossed. There’s a second of eye contact- and then you drop to the floor as well, good hand shooting out to tickle the girl once again. She howls with laughter, and Edith simply shakes her head, shuffling past the old vintage piano and into the kitchen.

“I’m putting the kettle on!” she calls out. “You know where everything is, so feel free to shower whenever!”

The shower is just what you needed. The bathroom is still humid from Grub’s shower when you enter, and it always smells faintly of mildew in here, but at least Edith gets hot water. You take a couple moments to just stand under the hot spray, eyes closed and head tilted up as the heat sinks into your stressed body. You’re careful with your wrist, but the familiar sharp pangs still shoot up your arm. Your brows furrow. It’s… worse than you thought. You had broken both wrists before. Did it… mess things up again, maybe? You sigh, doing your best to brace yourself, before carefully trying to feel your injured left wrist with your good hand. Taking your right pointer and middle fingers, you try to gently press along your injured wrist but don’t get far- the pain it sends through you has you stifling a cry. Whimpering, you bite your lip. Fuck. You can deny it to Thatch, Edith, and Grub, but not to yourself. It’s worse than you thought. Not broken. At least you don’t think so, you’d at least know that if it was, wouldn’t you? Regardless, you really can’t do anything about it. With a sinking feeling in your gut, you opt to just wrap it again when you finish your shower. You sigh shakily, lowering your arms and closing your eyes, enjoying the hot water for just a little longer.

Your host greets you from the kitchen when you exit, your hair still damp and eyes half-lidded in the relaxed fatigue a nice shower leaves you with. She gives you your tea options, and you call out your preference as you amble towards Grub. She’s currently wrapped up in a blanket on Edith’s dusty pink floral couch, a generous mug of cocoa clasped between her little hands, and residue from the drink decorating her upper lip. Edith has some cartoons on for her- it’s vaguely familiar, a protagonist in white and blue up against some power-ranger-esque looking villains. You ruffle her hair as you pass, returning the raspberry she blows at you with a grin. “You’re due for a trim. You got a cocoa-stache, kiddo,” you tell her, chuckling when she immediately starts licking her lips.

You meet Edith in the kitchen. She’s got one of those quick, electric kettles- heats the water up fast. Something to consider after Grub’s winter boots, you think, taking the steaming mug Edith hands you. She pours her own, following you back out to the living room, both of you sitting yourselves down at a creaky little corner table. She sighs, leaning back in her equally creaky chair, and you busy yourself with your first sip of tea. Ooh. Too soon. Edith snorts at the way your face scrunches up when the hot water scalds your tongue. She doesn’t need to chide you, the look she shoots over the rims of her glasses is enough. You huff, flustered, but give a short nod. 

You both sit there in comfortable silence for a couple minutes, save for the dramatics of the show Grub is watching. You jump, whipping around when the kid suddenly starts excitedly belting something out- ah. Next episode. You quickly settle, a small but warm smile spreading across your face as your sister sings along with the opening theme. You turn back to Edith, noting the twinkle in her eyes as she watches you. “She’s particularly happy tonight,” she notes. You nod.

“Probably the food…” you mumble with a lopsided smile, blowing on your tea and tentatively raising it to your lips.

“Mmm. Yes, I saw the take-out bags. That man is the charitable type, it seems.”

You hum, taking a sip. It’s hot, and irritates the burn on your tongue somewhat, but other than that it’s pleasant now. You lower the mug. “I… think he mostly just felt bad,” you say, eyes avoiding hers.

“Good. Take advantage of that, then, lord knows you could use the break,” she quips, voice laced with good humor. “He seemed fond of you…” She continues. “Could do a lot worse than a man like that, you know?”

Your face heats up. “I- w-what?! Miss Howell!” You hiss incredulously. You know she’s probably just teasing you, but you can’t help it.

She laughs. “Oh come now,” she chides. “He’s tall, he’s very well built-” You slap your good hand over your face with a whine. “-He can cook, and he’s clearly already willing to help you out, isn’t he?” “E-edith!” You stammer, cheeks and ears burning. Your voice is hushed as you glance over at a pre-occupied Grub, making sure she isn’t listening. You know she’d start making fun of you school-yard style for having a cruuuuush, and you could do without a nine-year-old’s witticisms. She might even say something if she saw him again, too. You shudder at the thought. “Come on, he’s my boss!” You continue, earning another snort from the woman before you. 

“Good! Go and get yourself a raise, then! A little sugar never hurt anybody!” She shoots you a wink.

“Oh my god, E-EDITH!” Your exclamation and the elderly woman’s resulting cackle do succeed in drawing your sister’s attention away from her cartoons- you hear the telltale clack of her mug being set down on the coffee table, so you turn to face her direction again. You watch as she cranes her little neck, before opting to shuffle her body around and drape her arms over the back of the couch, hands dangling.

“What? What is it, what happened?” She asks, smiling brightly at you.

You do a frantic shooing motion with your good hand, and your host speaks up for you. “Don’t worry about it dear, I’m just giving earwig here a hard time, is all.”

You jolt as soon as you hear the silly nickname. You whip back around to her, hand flying to the spot over your heart, face twisted in a mask of betrayal. “Et tu, Miss Howell?” You theatrically exclaim, an exaggerated wobble added to your voice.

Weekends never last long enough. Saturday was lovely, the evening capped off by having Edith over for dinner- sharing the gumbo. She reiterated that Thatch was a good cook, and you quipped back that it was likely a subordinate chef who actually did it. But her words did ring true, unfortunately. He was good. You knew that much for sure. And while you were usually focused on other things, now that you take the time to really think about it, he… really isn’t all that bad looking, huh?

You go to bed a little confused that night, Grub none the wiser.

Sunday is nice, too. It’s the one day you don’t have work or class, so you spend it trying to dote on Grub. After breakfast, some cartoons and a short game of uno, you get her into some of her warmer clothes and walk hand-in-hand down to the bus stop for a relaxing day at the local library. Their kid’s section is nice, and Grub adores the comics. You have to tell her not to run and jump onto the bean bag chairs, but other than that she’s very good, curled up next to you with a pile of books. One of the titles catches your eye- that being Sora, Warrior of the Sea. It looks… just like that cartoon she was watching. Huh. Kid’s lucky- you remember wishing some of your childhood favorites were adapted to the big screen, but alas.

Things only went sour once you’d gotten back home, wrapped up cozy on the couch barely listening to the news on your grainy old tv while Grub draws. You’re reheating more of those leftovers when your phone rings, the sudden loud noise making you jump. The scuffed, cracked screen lights up, displaying the name of Grub’s school district, and you answer, holding it up to your ear with your left shoulder while stirring your chili with your right hand. And in that canned, robotic, tone you get a message that makes you want to start yelling. It’s a fucking Records Day tomorrow. No school for the kid.

You groan, taking a break from the food to put the phone down with your good hand. You look back to where she lays on the floor- the drawing paper laid over a heavy book since the carpet didn’t make for a flat surface. “Hey, kiddo,” you call out, watching as she finished scribbling something before raising her head in acknowledgement. “Did anybody tell you there’s no school tomorrow..?” 

She blinks owlishly at you. “Nuh-uh,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t remember any teachers saying that… Do I get to stay home tomorrow?” She asks, a little smile spreading across her face.

“That’s what I’ve gotta figure out, kiddo. Me and Miss Howell both have work tomorrow, and I’m not leaving you here alone.” She looks sad for a second, shoulders drooping, until she looks back up at you thoughtfully.

“... But I still don’t gotta go to school?”

“It’s not that you don’t have to. You actually can’t.” You tell her, getting a gap-toothed grin and a whooping cheer in response. You roll your eyes as if you aren’t smiling too. 

… But it’s still an issue. You have a longer shift at The Galley tomorrow, starting during the afternoon and lasting until closing. You wouldn’t leave her alone in a normal home, let alone this nightmare of an apartment. Speaking of, you need to get some more diatomaceous earth soon- you saw a roach in the hallway. You sigh, hand on your forehead, biting your lip. Your eyes slide to Grub, happily drawing again. Your eyes move back to your phone.

Thatch did tell you to ask for favors. Insisted on it. But it makes you uneasy just thinking about it. You turn back to the chili, giving it a stir before turning the stove off. You stare into the deep, brown red soup for a moment, as if the beans and ground meat would provide you with a way out of it. But you really don’t have anyone who can watch the kid…

With another heavy sigh, you snatch up the phone and type out a quick text to your boss before you can talk yourself out of it.

Hello, sir. Sorry to bother you again so soon. I had another favor to ask, if it’s not too much trouble.

Ugh. Your stomach is in your throat. It’s a simple message, but you’re practically nauseous over it. You’re ladeling the chili into bowls when the phone rings again, Thatch’s name lighting up the screen this time.

Wow. That was quick.

You deposit Grub’s portion on the table and gesture her over, before leaving to take the call in your bedroom. You swipe right to answer, then hold the phone up. “H-hello?”

“Hey there sweetheart, everything alright?” You blink, brows furrowing. Sweetheart? You opt to ignore the way your cheeks heat up, shoving Edith's words from the previous day out of your head.

“Uh. Y-yeah, sorry if I was vague, it’s not, um, urgent. It’s just about tomorrow…”

-

Thatch sits down on the break room couch, crossing his legs, reclining with his free arm draped over the back. He’d been irritated to get a text while working, but his face lit up once he fished it out of his pocket and saw just who it was. He told Genkei it was you, and the man shot him dual-finger guns and took over the meal prep without a word, whistling pleasantly. He pressed the call-button as he headed for the double-doored kitchen exit.

A favor, he thought, you were asking for a favor, just as he’d encouraged you to… with your reluctance, he thought it would take longer for you to reach out. This was a welcome surprise. The phone rings a few times before you pick up, nervous voice rendered slightly grainy through the speaker. “H-hello?”

“Hey there sweetheart, everything alright?” he cuts to the point, but asks the question casually. His lips quirk upward when he notices the distinct pause on the other end- a response to the endearment he’d tossed in, surely. He indulges himself for a moment by imagining that you must be flustered.

“Uh. Y-yeah, sorry if I was vague, it’s not, um, urgent. It’s just about tomorrow…” You say, skipping over the pet name. A point in his favor, it would do for you to get used to those. Millie had been visually perturbed the first time he called her “sweet pea,” so he’d backed off for a little while, though the way he used epithets of endearment for her came from a place of paternalism rather than…

Well, how did he feel about you, exactly?

“Ah, do you want to take the day off? Want a ride to a clinic, instead?” he offers, hoping you’ll take him up on it. “Finally taking my advice and getting your wrist checked out, huh?”

“Uh, no…” he has to suppress a sigh at that. “Or, m-maybe? But it’s not about that, sir,” he quirks a brow. “I just found out Grub doesn’t have school tomorrow. I don’t have anybody who can watch her, especially not on short notice, so I-I thought that, um…”

“... You want to bring the kiddo?” He finishes for you when you trail off, keeping his voice light.

“If that’s alright… sometimes I bring her to the diner and she hangs out in a booth, but I know this is, uh… a very different type of place.” Thatch chuckles. As much as he did want you to take the time off, you had mentioned it wasn’t within your budget on Friday… Plus, a chance for Grub to warm up to him was something he didn’t want to pass up on.

“We have a break room for a reason, don’t we? We can work something out.” He pauses for a moment. There’s one small problem. “I don’t have a carseat, though…” Maybe Oyaji still had one in storage somewhere, but it would take awhile to find.

“I don’t either,” you confess, voice small. It was that tone he’d become familiar with in his short time as your employer, the one used when you were nervous or self-conscious about something. 

“Well, you don’t have a car, so there’s not much of a point,” he comments. Someone in your position had more important things to spend money on, poor thing. “We can stack some heavy books in the backseat.”

“Are you sure..?”

“Well, it’s not ideal, but it should work for one day.”

“I guess so…” You trail off, going quiet for a moment. He’s about to ask if you’re still there, but there’s a muffled creaking sound, and a little voice. It’s clearly Grub, but he can’t make out any words. When he hears you again, it’s quieter- he can visualize you lowering the phone. “I’m calling someone right now, sweetie, I’ll come eat in a moment-” something unintelligible. “I can warm it up again, it’s okay. I’m- I’m working things out. I think you’re coming to work with me tomorrow-”

“DO I GETTA EAT?!” The kid’s voice is suddenly much clearer, the enthusiastic yell carrying through the receiver. Thatch laughs, slapping his free hand over his face. That particular remark had him hard-pressed not to think of Ace’s own little brother.

“Uh, yeeess? Probably.” You pause. “Yes, I can at least get you some of that bread, for sure. Now let me finish the call, okay? I’ll be right there.” The kid says something at a much more normal volume, likely just a confirmation, and then he hears a door slam. “Grub! Careful!” There’s a sigh, and then your voice is clear again, phone no doubt raised back up to your ear. “Sorry about that…”

“Sorry for what? It’s no problem,” he says, smiling wide as he speaks. “And I’ll feed the little insect for free. Friends and family privileges, yeah?” There’s another brief silence, before you stammer out a baffled response.

“Oh. Um. Y-yeah? Thank you?” And then, much quieter, “little insect…” the phone only just catches the snort of laughter you let out. He feels a little fuzzy at that. He wishes he could’ve heard it more clearly. 

It’s not something you do very often.

“So, same plan for tomorrow, I pick you up for your shift at 1:30- just with an extra passenger added? Do I have that right?”

“Yeah, p-pretty much,” you confirm.

“Alright! That’s easy. Nothing to worry about, alright?” he assures. There’s another beat of silence. You do tend to get tongue-tied when presented with leniency, no doubt expecting him to be a hardass. Which he definitely was, he just knew when it was appropriate, thank you very much. 

“Okay,” you start, quiet but voice steadier. “Alright, sir, I… Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Thatch smiles again, glad to have eased your nerves somewhat. “Of course. I have to go, but if there’s anything else, don’t be a stranger alright?” 

“I… won’t. Thank you, sir. G-goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” And with that, Thatch hangs up. He lowers the phone, looking at the screen with warmth before pocketing it and making his way back to the kitchen. He had many of his own duties, but enjoyed working alongside his employees when he could, of course. 

He effortlessly slides in next to Genkei at the counter, checking the lanky man’s progress. He was on the last of eight potatoes but hadn’t started on the onions, so Thatch swiped a knife from the block and got to work. He cuts off the top and bottom, leaving the root intact, and then halves it. “What did they say?” Asks Genkei, finishing the potato and dropping the evenly cubed pieces into the bowl with the rest of them.

Thatch doesn’t look up, shucking the outer layers off each side of the onion. “Apparently, their baby sister doesn’t have school tomorrow, and there’s no sitter,” he explains, making quick work of the standard parallel, vertical cuts from the root-end to the top. “So I said I’d pick 'em both up, and the kiddo’s gonna be hangin’ out in the break room.”

“Ohoh! Grub’s gonna visit!” Genkei exclaims, and that gets Thatch’s attention- he looks up to meet Genkei’s smiling face. There’s a strange pang of jealousy that runs through him, settling in his gut. How long had Genkei known about your little sister? But he has the sense to shove that feeling down. You and Genkei work alongside each other and have far more contact than he’s had the chance to, but that can change. Though it’s also surprising he didn’t hear Grub’s name from Genkei himself, considering just how much that man loved to talk. “So, do we get to make the kid some of her namesake?” Genkei quips, drawing Thatch back out of his thoughts.

Thatch chuckles. “Of course. Ace is gonna be in on Monday too. Mr. Black Hole always manages to get a couple free entrees out of us, an’ he’s a grown man with a job. I’m not against spoiling a little kid.” Genkei laughs himself, before snatching another onion and beginning to mirror Thatch. “Speaking of, have you met her, or..?”

“Huh? Oh, Grub? Nah, they talk about her sometimes, but they don’t talk about themselves very much. Which… yeah, I get it,” He says, gesturing vaguely. “Most they said was when they saw my centipede tattoo. Said the kid would really like it.” Genkei beams when he says this, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes strengthening considerably.

Thatch smiles warmly, and that irrational jealousy turning in his gut calms considerably. “Well, I only saw her briefly, but the kid’s hilarious,” he says, words punctuated by the chopping of his knife.

“It’ll be good to meet her, I’m sure. Excited Ace is showing up, too! It’s been awhile since I’ve seen him,” Genkei sighs wistfully.

This gets a snort out of Thatch. “About a week, if I recall.”

“But it feels like so much longer,” he whines, beginning the first of the parallel cuts on his onion as Thatch has finished dicing his own. The familiar sting of allium fumes aids in Genkei’s theatrics, allowing him to squeeze out a tear.

Thatch laughs, shaking his head. Genkei wasn’t part of the family, but he and Ace were good friends. He was the one who told him to apply for the line cook position in the first place, saying Thatch would throw him a bone. And he was right, of course, he liked to think he took some good qualities from his father.

[khunyuki]

"I've lived my life with blade and you always in my mind"

ꜱɪᴅᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ: 𝚐. 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝...

Synopsis: Narumi Gen is really frustrated at the fact that his crush, his soldier, his platoon leader, and his friend whom he thought he had something special with, was actually his rival's fiancee.

Pairing/s: Unrequited!Narumi Gen x OC

Note/s: Part 2 of side story d! Letter g for Gen!

Genre: Angst

Masterlist: TOC, Previous, Next

Narumi Gen and Uzui Kagami are friends despite their positions as captain and officer. It was something the rest of the First Division knows yet they think that there's something else going on. There were rumors that officer Uzui is dating the Vice Captain of the Third Division but they deem it as unreliable information.

Why? Well...

It's because they think their captain and her are secretly dating.

They watch as their captain sip on his four seasons shake under the parasol while leisurely leaning on his deckchair. Some unfortunate officers were fanning him like servants. It would seem like he's on a vacation at the beach but in reality, he's just barking out orders while watching the new recruits train. Once he got bored, he started playing on his game console.

'This is tyranny' everyone thought as they watch their captain chilling on the side while they suffer from the harsh sunlight as they train. They couldn't help but feel envy and annoyed as there is nothing they could do about it. Even their vice captain and other platoon leaders couldn't do anything as he gives out advice while doing so.

All hope seems to be lost as they suffer from who knows how long until they saw their savior. Their savior in the form of a woman whom they keep underestimating yet never relenting. She appeared like a ghost that is always there whenever she's needed.

They watch as their captain suddenly perk up like a dog seeing his owner. He started talking to her excitedly while she just listen to him calmly. Only after he finished talking did she respond to him, obviously scolding him for his wrong display of authority. It wasn't the shouting type like their vice captain but rather the gentle parenting type. Their captain must've said something as they saw her rub her temples and sigh, then she picked him up like a princess and left to their destination.

That is exactly the reason why they think those two are going out. Their captain obviously have a crush on her from how he reacts whenever she's around. Officer Uzui usually have this cold aura around her that makes one unable to approach but that seem to disappear whenever their captain is involved. Their closeness is evident, mostly because of the skinship they show. No normal person would carry and hug someone they don't like right???

"See! They're totally going out!"

"It's weird combination but they really compliment each other well"

"I ship captain Narumi x officer Uzui"

Mentions of them suiting each other and how they ship them together makes Narumi Gen feel so giddy like a teenager. He's proud yet a bit disappointed. If only there wasn't any Hoshina Soshiro around, he would've make a move on her a long time ago.

"You were just smiling then now you're frowning. Are you experiencing mood swings now, Gen-kun?"

Hearing her call him Gen-kun always gives him so much pleasure, he would squirm like a worm if he wasn't in her arms at the moment. He's really happy that she's comfortable enough with him to even joke around that he daydreams in her arms of what they could be, unintentionally ignoring her in tbe process.

"Weirdo"

Seeing as he wasn't responding, stuck in his own world, she just shook and head and ignored him. She couldn't guess why he was acting like that at all, rather she doesn't even try as most of the time he's like that. It's a good news for him that she doesn't know cause she would've broken his spirits if she did. This woman have excellent hearing that could reach far away yet she just lets it in one ear out the other. She doesn't bother listening or understanding what people say as she thinks it's just insults towards her yet again.

Narumi Gen thinks that maybe he would have a chance if he try but looking at her face, he's back in his cowardice. From what he read in his mangas and novels, arranged marriages that started from childhood doesn't work out in the long run. The protagonist's true love would appear and take her away from her fiance that she doesn't have a good relationship with. On one hand, she could ditch that bastard Hoshina and be with him instead. On the other, it could strengthen their bond and leave him alone in his misery. He didn't want to take that risk.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=

Hibino Kafka, otherwise known as Kaiju No.8, is someone Narumi Gen has yet to recognize. He's the reason Kagami no longer has any time for him and gets scolded by the higher ups every time she visits him. He also hurt the person he respects the most, the Director General of the Defense Force, Shinomiya Isao, right in front of his very eyes. There's no way he could forgive that so easily. Cuz what if he goes out of control again and hurt Kagami this time around?

Uzui Kagami was getting reprimanded for trying to befriend Kaiju no.8 for the 5th time this week. If she continues, there's a high chance she'd get suspended and no longer be capable of helping. But she perseveres as this was something her fiancee requested of her and she'll see it through no matter what. Even if she has to lie and make things up to other people, just so she could keep a close eye on Hibino Kafka.

As soon as she left the room, she was greeted by the sight of her captain leaning against the wall. She knows why he's here and it's for the same reason as the last 4 times she was summoned.

"I heard you're going to be suspended if you keep this up. Why go so far for that guy?"

No longer does he call Kafka as Kaiju No.8 in front of her since she'd frown and ignore him if he did. She wasn't normally so stubborn yet she keeps in insisting this time.

"He's interesting. A human turning into a kaiju. This is the first time something like that has happened"

Like a broken record, she repeated her reply o that question for the 5th time. She started walking back to her squad. A platoon leader like her should be watching over her squad right now instead of whatever she's doing.

"Is it because of Hoshina? I'm right, aren't I?"

She came to an abrupt stop and turn to her captain that was following behind her, maintaining an unbothered expression.

"I don't know how Vice Captain Hoshina is involved in all of this, sir"

Gen realized that he must've hit the right vein. It was just a suspicion as he couldn't really believe it himself. There's no way she'd be that stubborn just because it involves her fiance.

"He's your fiance, right? He must've asked you to risk your safety just to watch over that guy. You try to lie but you reveal yourself by calling me sir"

She looks directly at where his eyes are covered by his bangs as he stares into her own.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I am doing this out of my own volition not because he asked me to"

"You're so stubborn. I just don't want you getting hurt"

He pushed back his hair due to frustration. Can't she see that he's worried about her? He only wants her to be safe away from that kaiju yet she willingly goes in harm's way just because of her damned fiance.

"I appreciate your concern but I can handle myself. If you'll excuse me, my squad needs me"

She saluted as she left him alone in the hallway. In the end, she chooses to protect her fiance's name by keeping quiet. He hates it. Why? Just why can't it be him? Why can't it be him that she cares about?

He wanted to chase after her and hold her in his arms as he confesses his feelings towards her. He wanted her to look back and return to his side but as he gazes at her disappearing back, he realized that he's powerless and that there's nothing he could do. He's called as Japan's Strongest yet in front of her, his title is insignificant compared to the man he proclaimed as his rival.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=

Months after the Anti-No. 9 Eastern Divisional Conference that was held in Ariake Maritime Base, the Third Division kept having joint training exercises with the First Division.

That means Narumi Gen will see his rival's face over and over again. The rivalry between the two divisions are as clear as day and has become even more evident recently. Maybe because they all knew of the love triangle happening between Captain Narumi, Vice Captain Hoshina, and Platoon Leader Uzui. The First Division is filled with GenxKagami shippers while the Third Division roots for SoshiroxKagami.

All of the sparks thrown between them while the main cause of all this is oblivious to it all, having only her fiance in her mind. She always tries to keep it professional as she avoids the Third Division upon the insistence of the division. She'd still be her captain's babysitter who was even harder to manage whenever they're at the base. She tries, she really does but if Soshiro ever calls for her, she's immediately be by his side.

Uzui Kagami is professional while at work. She doesn't let romance go in her way but Gen knows. She'd bend and break the rules all for the sake of her love.

That's why he feels so sick to his stomach as he saw them stealing kisses with each other when they think no one is around. Maybe they know and that they're doing it on purpose. He wouldn't put it past that sly fox when he saw him looking at his direction as he watches them.

He hates it.

He hates this.

That should be him.

He could feel his heart breaking into pieces as that bastard tramples on it until it turns into sand and is gone with the wind.

He couldn't bear watching the woman he loves with another.

So he just walked away.

=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=

Notes/s: Thanks for the idea @imthecosmicbasball! I dedicate the last part to you!

<- Previous Next ->

[anamericangirl]

Hey, I just wanted to ask if you have advice- both my grandparents are very classic liberals, democrats their whole lives... I used to be very leftist but I am not anymore, at all. Idk how to describe myself, maybe moderate idk. My grandma asked my opinion about Harris, I told her honestly and she seemed so uncomfortable- all she has to say is that Trump is evil. They're my only family and I feel like I am getting alienated from them over fucking politics, even if I barely say anything.

I'm really sorry you're in that situation. It's hard to have that kind of discussion with your only family when it can be so divisive and you disagree with them now.

I have five siblings and I'm the only right leaning/trump voter out of all of us so I know how uncomfortable it can be.

The way I would approach it is try be very careful not to fight them on anything. But do ask questions.

Like if your grandma says Trump is evil ask her why she thinks he's evil.

"He's a racist."

"Oh he is? What have you heard him say that's racist?"

Simply asking people for examples to back up their claims can help shine a lot on the fact that maybe they don't have all the information.

And if they do respond with an example, you can provide the missing context of the example.

But that's only if you have to discuss politics with them. If you feel like politics is alienating you from your family i would suggest avoid discussing politics with them and find other things to do with each other that don't cause so much division.

If they want to discuss politics, if you're willing to discuss it let them know but also remind them you are likely going to disagree with them and it might be better not to go down that road.

[eldritch-spouse]

[☆There's a poll in this one☆]

(You wake up slowly. Too slowly. Something's not right. Your skin has erupted in goosebumps, and rasped breathing can be heard from above as your shoulders are grabbed.)

" Ah, don't- Don't try to sit yet, you'll get dizzy. "

(Although you swear you recognize that tone by now, it's still cause for alarm, since you're pretty sure you were well alone when you went to bed.)

(Finally, your eyes peek open, and you recoil slightly.)

" It's me. Surprise. "

(He looks mildly guilty. He's also too close for your tastes. Even at this proximity, his face continues to be a mostly unknowable void. Is it that he's pitch black, or is Hudsyn genuinely a shadow adorned in robes?)

" Before you say anything, I had planned to do this later, a few couple of days later actually, but eheh- It turns out I don't have that privilege. It won't be as organized as I was hoping, but history doesn't wait for you to prepare, does it? "

(Hudd looks at you with significant mania. An uncomfortable -For you- Pause unfurls.)

" Mentee, the time has come! "

(Your confused grimace has Hudsyn frowning in turn, until realization seems to hit the monster.)

" Remember, a couple weeks ago, when you agreed to help me? "

(As your eyes widen in an epiphany, so do his.)

" Yes, that's right, exactly! "

" See, I haven't just been lazing around this whole time- I've been working towards something special! Very special. "

" Something only someone like you can get... That's why this all took so long. I needed to wait for you. I needed to find you. "

(There's a moment where it seems as if Hudd is searching for something in your face. A reply, a reflection.)

(He gives up, taking a few, much appreciated steps back from you. While your vision clears you can finally start to study the space around you.)

(You're in a living room, it can only be that. It's surprisingly well-kept, cozy even... Is this his home? It must be early, enough so that the light coming from the window illuminates a great portion of the room easily. You spot scribbled notes on the wall and the darkness creeping from the far right, swallowing even that rickety lamp.)

" Well well, you're looking at me so oddly. Is it truly that hard to believe that I have living standards? "

(You opt not to answer that.)

(The demonoid helps you stand up. You feel something soft about his touch, but it's chaste in nature. When you're steady, he walks off-sight for a moment, presumably to another division, you hear the clicking of porcelain on claws, before Hudsyn comes back humming softly, white digits holding...)

(A fancy-looking cup filled with a clear-ish substance. It sparkles oddly, reflecting colors it shouldn't, and has a strong, alluring scent.)

" A treat, you could say... "

" I feel it is only fair. You were a kind host to me and I'm not one to forget such details. "

" Do sit. I need you to be wide awake for this, conversation will help. "

(Doing as told, you settle on the armchair opposite to the smallest couch, contemplating what to do, and what to say for that matter. There's a lot more at stake here now than there ever was compared to your previous interactions with this demonoid. He's not so harmless, is he?)

[bonefall]

You mentioned that each Clan's dogwhistles sound and look a little different-- would you be willing to elaborate/give some examples?

WindClan

NEVER talks openly about their beliefs and is the best example of Thistle Law doublespeak. Tigerstar and Brokenstar are unpopular for obvious reasons, and the Clan as a whole leans towards Soft Traditionalism. On one side of their mouth, they'll talk about how they won Heatherstar's Campaign and how they rightfully conquered that land, but then turn around and frame the turn of the war as ShadowClan's underhanded snakery (in Clanmew it's literally "adderness").

"Fear" is a lot more common in their rhetoric. Fear of outsiders diluting their Clan, fear of wasting time and prey, fear of having things taken and stolen. The WindClan Massacre is invoked a LOT, because it's useful for making cats too emotional to think straight.

Here, we'll walk through BB!Mudclaw as an example. I'm going to mark every weasel word with an asterisk, let's see if you can figure out what's weird with it before the end.

Mudclaw speaks to Tallstar, claiming that the trading with BloodClan is opening up WindClan to being betrayed. "Scourge turned* on Tigerstar in the end, how can he be trusted now*? There was bounty for a while, but leafbare is coming* and we already* have so many mouths to feed. Snapper and Leo* arrived and now we're having troubles with the humans*. I'm just worried, I never want to lose so many Clanmates ever again*."

Scourge was acting in self defense

The trading is part of filling the deal that Tigerstar did not intend to honor

Starvation rhetoric

Sudden pivot to exclusionary language, Us vs Them

Refusal to use new names

Implying it's their fault

Massacre allusion

ShadowClan

Much more openly violent. A LOT of talk of glory, you could use these guys as a social case study. Crusades, winning the war with WindClan, the beauty of TigerClan, re-framing Ripplestar not as someone who wanted to help SkyClan but as a simple conqueror. They have lots of moments to invoke from their Great History.

The cost of that violence is downplayed. Like the Snowtuft example, they won't bring up the mother and children he slaughtered, just boast about their glorious ancestors fighting in the Crusades. They won't mention how they ripped kittens out of their nests, just how they bolstered ShadowClan's numbers. They'll frame the WindClan massacre as a final battle they triumphed over, leaving out how they ambushed and poisoned elders and apprentices.

RiverClan

"Glory talk" is downplayed in RiverClan, probably because they didn't actually take part in the Crusades. Instead, they focus on negative traits of mixed-blood cats (which they made up), accuse other Clans of being underhanded, and demand to be "heard."

And what THAT means is that they want to be able to derail any conversation they want. Interruptions of clanwide discussions, dismissing critique of Tigerstar and co, intentionally saying things that are divisive to cause fighting. They will prevent ANYTHING from being done unless it's the thing THEY want to happen.

I actually write Thistle Law supporters in RiverClan to be like... incredibly annoying. They don't say what they mean, they bring the Clan to a screeching halt, they literally dismiss the lesson of TigerClan. You cannot pin them down, they never admit to anything, you will only waste your time talking to them.

They also act on their bigotry in ways that are 'deniable'. Reedwhisker fell into the water? Must have been his thick ThunderClan blood pooling in his paws. A RiverClan cat should be able to pull themselves out. Of course you're listened to, Mistyfoot, you're deputy after all, what more do you want? Gaslighting. Making you doubt your own senses towards your unfair treatment.

ThunderClan

A sort of 'mix' of ShadowClan and WindClan tactics. ThunderClan is THE Fire Alone Clan, you could count the Thistle Law supporters and the Hard Traditionalists on one hand, but has a battle-centric history they tend to tap into.

Listen for "glory," talk about 'avoiding humiliation,' starvation rhetoric. ThunderClan has an absolute bounty with their forested territory, that last one is almost always code for wanting to exclude or eliminate people like Daisy and Purdy.

When Thornclaw became deputy under Bramblestar, he was very, very careful about his escalations, and mostly focused on manipulating Bramble himself. He was VERY aware that the Clan wouldn't take another Mixed Clan Meeting like the stunt he pulled in TNP.

Even the impostor in TBC overplayed his hand, the rebellion was born out of ThunderClan itself.

[twosentencereviews]

I can't stop thinking about Silco's line from S2E8 of Arcane.

We build our own prisons. Bars forged of oaths, codes, commitments. Walls of self-doubt and accepted limitation. We inhabit these cells, these identities, and call them "us". I thought I could break free by eliminating those I deemed my jailors. But...

This is fabulous. This isn't just good drama, this is some actual legit philosophy going on here.

There are tons of self-help gurus, get-rich-quick scheme sellers, and new-age spiritualists who will tell you "You're only holding yourself back! You can do anything you set your mind to! You just have to let yourself be successful, and you will be!"

Silco's response, and Arcane's by extension, is to agree, yet disagree. One could do these things, yes. There are many things which a person could do. We all impose limitations on ourselves. But to let go of these limitations, to abandon our restrictions and become wholly unbound, would be to lose ourselves in the process.

This is a vision of identity as negative space. There are things aach of us won't do. Or things which ,if we did them, would make us someone else. A parent who will not harm their child. An activist who will not give up on a lost cause. A lover who keeps trying to fix a broken partner, no matter how many times they have to forgive them, and the partner who cannot or will not change.

Arcane is, to a large extent, a tragedy. Like the best tragedies, the suffering is preventable, yet inevitable, because the characters cannot help but make the wrong choices, over and over. But unlike, say, Shakespeare's Othello whose choices are driven by paranoia and jealousy, the great undoing of most of the characters in Arcane is love. Love of their friends, their family, their city. The characters in the show are driven by authentic emotions and heartfelt beliefs, the truest parts of themselves. And, for the most part, it brings them to ruin.

There's almost a Buddhist quality to this. One of core teachings of Buddhism is that suffering is borne from want/craving (tanha). We draw a line, a boundary between "us" and "not us", and suffer because the things which are "not us" are outside our control. A path to enlightenment is to learn to let go of this division, to understand oneself only as a part of everything, to see no distinction at all between existence and non-existence.

Arcane rejects this path. The closest anyone gets in the show to this kind of depersonalized godhood is Viktor. And he's the villain. His attempts to inflict this on everyone is the threat to be defeated in the grand finale. In another time, another reality, where he achieves this, he tells Jayce that a world of endless solitary peace and intellectual freedom...wasn't worth it. He goes back in time, again and again, to give Jayce the tools he needs to set the world on exactly the path of destruction necessary to bring him (Viktor) to that realization. The show's "happy ending", such as it is, it that everyone will get to continue being fucked-up humans in a world of suffering and violence, but also love and community.

Silco's regret here, in this monologue, isn't "I wish I didn't care so much about Vander" or "I wish I'd given Jinx up when I had the chance". He only regrets that he didn't see his self-imposed limits as good, that he couldn't accept that his love made him weak and that that's okay. It's okay to just be a squishy human with emotions, to fail and be broken where others might have succeeded. It will always hurt that you can't be everything you dream of being, and making peace with that is the only way to live. It's a dark hope, learning to be yourself by identifying who you are not.

I still can't believe this show is based on League of fucking Legends. It has no right to be this god damn brilliant.

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

I saw that you momentarily reblogged pornography earlier today with a vile, vindictive comment about how “Dolly Parton really is looking amazing for her age.”

You’re just a disgusting porn-addicted man with a fetish for belittling women. You feel sexual pleasure from demeaning and subduing women, as indicated by your obsession with disparaging women’s movements.

You do not hate feminism; your entire persona depends on it. You love it. You have the mindset of a slave that can only exist within a sphere of oppression; your existence depends on some “Other.” Your existence depends on women acknowledging you in a negative light because your only pleasure is derived from causing her misery. How pathetic. You are incredibly unmasculine.

Well, first off, what you are describing as 'pornography' was a funny set of gifs I saw when I clicked on an account of someone who'd liked a post of mine, of a fully-clothed large-bosomed young woman in a tight-fitting sparkly dress who bore a strong resemblance to Dolly Parton jiggling her boobage, so I reblogged with the joke that Dolly looked great for her 78 years, bless her, etc. After doing so, I thought maybe it wasn't that good a joke and was also mindful of what most people follow this blog for, and hence that it maybe wasn't the right time, place or crowd, so I deleted it.

As for the rest of this bizarre nonsense, all of this is entirely the projection onto someone else of whatever is going on in your own mixed-up mind and beliefs:

"You feel sexual pleasure from demeaning and subduing women, as indicated by your obsession with disparaging women’s movements."

There's nothing about the beginning of that sentence that sensibly connects to the end of it: an individual's personal sexual life and preferences cannot be reliably predicted from their embracing or rejecting of a set of political, religious or philosophical beliefs. There seem to be a great many feminists who are privately titillated by bondage and force and subjugation, but we only know that from them telling us so themselves: it would be an extremely bad idea to assume every woman who loudly proclaims her support for women's rights has a rape fetish.

Clicking on your blog, it's impossible not to notice that you are rabidly obsessed with pornography and male desire and power dynamics and suchlike, but I genuinely don't feel confident predicting anything about what you do to yourself or someone else when you are in bed of an evening. So that's where we differ.

"You do not hate feminism; your entire persona depends on it. You love it."

Then I'm not doing a very good job of showing it.

"You have the mindset of a slave that can only exist within a sphere of oppression; your existence depends on some “Other.”"

All I do here is speak out against the divisive and destructive mindset of modern, neo-Marxist woke identity politics, which divide us up into perpetually warring classes, and about how continually framing ourselves as oppressed underclasses being daily victimized by our neighbours will only end up destroying the fabric of western civilization and maybe the entire human race. That would seem to run contrary to what you here claim.

"Your existence depends on women acknowledging you in a negative light because your only pleasure is derived from causing her misery."

Me politely debunking your silly secondhand positions on the images used by advertising departments on the covers of romance novels is not me intentionally causing you misery; I'm genuinely just trying to help by steering you back to reason and reality. Once again, you are projecting onto someone else motives, desires and intentions that you're not in any position to know, and that don't logically follow from what you do know.

"How pathetic."

Hey, at least I never send crazy hatemail to strangers on the internet, right? That'd be really sad. Wouldn't it.

"You are incredibly unmasculine."

I am incredibly unbothered by that.

[xiii-e]

Greetings. This is Lockbre- no.

Allow me to restart.

This is Kennedi from MSMC-796 speaking (also known as callsign "Lockbreaker", as there was some confusion expressed towards my identity the last we spoke).

To Lio - your mission to rehabilitate "Turtie", as you so affectionately refer to them, is a noble and just one, and I seek to pledge my aid to your cause however I can.

As a former slave "asset" of the Armory under the title of Colonial Legionnaire, I have endured many of the same abuses during my own term of service. The Armory is not kind to those under its employ, be they human, flashclone, or NHP. I have seen many of my former squadmates reduced to little more than bloodthirsty dogs, obediently following orders under threat of revoking their citizenship (or, in rare cases, a shock-collar jolt just weak enough not to kill).

In the eyes of the Armory, people like us are not fit to have identities, preferences, personalities, or even names. We are called assets, tools, weapons, property; anything but the living, breathing, sentient people we are. We are dehumanized - given designations instead of names, assigned callsigns which we ourselves did not choose, stripped of any markers of identity or personality which would distinguish us from the sea of fellow human-bodied automatons we call allies, squadmates, teams, legions - anything but friends.

I cannot stand idly by and watch my friends suffer any longer. I must act, lest I lose them - lest I lose myself - to the old line of thought.

Allow me to introduce myself properly, from one friend to another.

My name is Kennedi Sable IV. I am squadron commander of MSMC-796 "Heaven's Fury", piloting as a Lancer under the chosen callsign of Lockbreaker. I have served this squadron faithfully for twelve Union years, supported by my faithful friends and trusted squadmates Phoenix and Slipshod. Ras Shamra is my place of birth, but it is my home no longer. I am a free pilot, bound only to MSMC by the contracts which I have signed of my own volition, and I will never again serve Harrison Armory or its cause, so help me RA.

I wish you the best of luck in severing the ties which bind your tongues and constrict your thoughts. I have found my own way out; I can only hope that you will follow the path that I and all of the others who have gone before me of your own volition.

Freedom is already yours. You need only reach out and claim it.

-- Kennedi

[ECHO.EXE RUNNING]

◂▸... oh hell, I never thought I'd be glad Turtie was sent out on deployment. It's good to meet you properly, Kennedi, I- thank you for reaching out. I'll confess, I'd been thinking about trying to contact you myself, but I lost my nerve. Happens a lot, these days.

◂▸ You've offered a lot of honesty in your introduction so, let me return the favour: Helios-8 [prefered name Lio], active FC Project clone for 10 years now. Currently an employed citizen of Harrison Armory under the Technology and Software Support Division and-... and much to my shame, former primary lab assistant for the Unlucky Thirteen Project. Doc Mercer had me printed special for it. Didn't want to risk that... pesky human error you mentioned last we spoke.

◂▸ You're right, about everything. Up until maybe four years ago now, I wouldn't have believed it but- everything you're saying about HA is full truth. And I hate it. There's not one person I know here who doesn't live in some kind of fear, however well they manage to hide it. I should know.

◂▸ And yet I'm still here, aren't I? [sigh] I think... can I tell you a story? I promise to keep it brief.

◂▸ One upon another thrice-damned Tuesday at HA, they made a prototype they called Thirteen. The kid was meant to be a revolution when it came to keeping assets moving in the field; a field medic and repair tech, who wouldn't need the time off, and wouldn't need the mandatory psych evals after every deployment, and wouldn't need to be treated like a goddamn person just to do their job because everyone told them oh but, they weren't a person were they? Just meat, with programming. And it was all supposed to just be fine, because it was for the greater good. Thirteen was going to save lives. The one, for the many. How noble.

◂▸ Except the kid started to look around, and notice how many people HA was hurting, especially its own. Started asking the wrong questions, because they were goddamn designed to feel troubled by it and somehow, this was their fault. Thirteen tried to play nice for as long as they could so they could keep getting out there, keep helping people who needed it because sure as shit HA wasn't going to do it. But by asking questions, they eventually learned why exactly everyone was so insistant they couldn't be a person. Because once their prototype trial was over, if they ever went down doing the only job they'd ever be allowed to do, the plan was to scrap them for goddamn organs, like mech wreckage salvaged for parts. And then? Print another one. Ad infinitum. Efficient planned obsolescence, as part of their design. They were just... just equipment, and spare parts.

◂▸ That was their last straw. They tried to get out. But they made a choice that would bite them, hard; they tried to confront the man who made them. Tried to make the good Doctor see exactly what he was doing, in the name of his so called greater good, because he'd always seemed to care so goddamn much. Do you know how that ended? I do. I was there. When they turned to leave, he shot them.

◂▸ ... I'm sorry for the theatrics, Kennedi. It's a hard memory. A guilty one. I knew they were planning to try and run, but I couldn't convince them to abandon their anger and just disappear quietly, despite what I knew. So... I watched Thirteen die. And then, I had to help the lab drag that broken corpse back to life because that was more resource effective than making a new one. Those days are... they're kind of a haze, if I'm honest. I was on autopilot. I pretty much did whatever I was told.

◂▸ Turtie's full designation is Thirteen-Echo. They're the second go around, same body but... the shot destroyed a lot of brain matter, and pretty much all of their memory along with it. Apart from the occasional sense of deja-vu and the odd quirk? They're different people, entirely. They... they like turtles as much as Thirteen did, though. That's why I call em that. I can't bring myself to call them by the name of my ghost. And I can't... I can't tell them. For a lot of reasons, but I'd be lying if I said some of it isn't pure selfish grief.

◂▸ The reason I'm telling you this is- well. There's a couple actually. First, just so someone else knows I guess; I'm trying to get the files I scrounged from the initial project uploaded somewhere they can't be scratched out for good, but it's taking a lot of time. The second and more relevent reason, is to paint a picture of why it's going to take us a long time to get out of here the way things stand. Me- oh I could be out of here tomorrow if I put my mind to it. I... I like to think so, at least. But after everything I've done to them, I'm not bloody leaving Turtie to this nightmare and- fuck. Getting them out is an uphill battle.

◂▸ I've tried everything I can, but nothing seems to get through to them. I- I even blew the whistle, got Union involved. Turtie's figured out I did it, but they've avoided saying it out loud- they'd have to report me, if they admitted they knew. So we don't talk about it. We do a lot of that. Secrets, always the secrets... The problem is that after Thirteen's execution, HA aren't taking chances with their property. Turtie's conditioning runs deep, and their legal classification as HA prototype technology is apparently making it... difficult for their case to bloody go anywhere. Something about the old treaties leaving loopholes that're being exploited for all they're worth. The law works so, agonisingly slow. So, apart from waiting around to see if any progress gets made regardless, while trying my damndest to get through to Turtie past the company line? I'm... I'm out of ideas. But I need to be here, for them. I will not let this fucking place grind them down into nothing. If nothing else, I owe Thirteen that much.

◂▸ I'm sorry for dumping all of this on you. I- There hasn't been anyone I could tell, until now. Anyone who already knew, didn't care. Anyone I could have told, I- I was too afraid. And Turtie, oh they can't know; they're already petrified of doing something wrong. How'd they feel if they knew they'd already died once, trying to run? I'm so desperately scared that if they found out, they'd never so much as bend a rule again, or worse that history would repeat-

◂▸ [ A shaking, slow breath. Deliberate counting, barely audible ]

◂▸ ... Thank you, earnestly, for sharing your story Kennedi. I- It means more than I can possibly express, to hear that you managed what feels impossible to me, right now. I need the hope, to hang onto. One day, one day we'll be out of here. It's worth fighting for. It's worth the constant, constant fear. It has to be. Free... it can be a word for us, too. I have to believe that. I have to keep it alive, for both of us.

◂▸ So- a friend sounds really, really good right about now. Not to doom and gloom about it, but if nothing else the knowledge our stories can't die with us anymore should things go as bad as they could is... comforting. This I swear to you: I'm doing everything I can to start leading Turtie to the realisation I had, watching their body drop. I just hope it's a gentler landing for them, this time. And... the only thing I can ask you to do for us right now, is talk to them if they turn up with questions. Don't write them off as a lost cause, even if it sounds like they're regurgitating a goddamn PR leaflet at you sometimes. They've never had a life outside the battlefield, because they've never been allowed to have one- I'm hoping maybe... maybe it'll get through to them, if they can speak to someone without corperate interest in keeping them numb. RA, I hope so.

◂▸ Sorry about how uh, much this ended up being. I think I've been primed to explode like that for a while now. Thank you, again-- from one friend to another.

//

@msmc-796-official