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hyperesthesias · 10 months

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Decisions & Desire Part II

Notes: Look, what I want you to take away from this is: 'I love you. Most ardently'. I even got the rain thing going. Song choice for this installment is: Arrival of the Birds by The Cinematic Orchestra.

Context: Anya and Viktor are childhood friends who have reconnected seven months ago. Anya is a mage, and a theoretical physicist; she is also a patron of Viktor and the Academy. They have rekindled their friendship, and are in love with each other. Because Anya is a different species, who lives for hundreds of years, and takes only one mate for her lifespan, Viktor has recused himself from her life, not wanting to cause her further pain. However, Jayce has some choice words for his friend. Anya also learns more about transformation rituals from her temple elder.

word count: 4,411

Tag List: @uniquedeerwitch ; @funcoolchickie (Let me know if you would like to be tagged!)

AO3 link

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Anya kept the company of her kinfolk, while Viktor kept himself confined to his laboratory. She had not seen him in nearly a week – neither had she heard from him, despite her occasional visits to the lab with pertinent information and translations of runework. Whenever she made an appearance there, Viktor always seemed absent, and her work was relayed solely through Jayce, who asked her no questions, neither pressed any agendas about the crystal or her relationship with her friend. It only made her feel more alone.

Despite the happy faces and the welcome invitations from her kin at the temple, Anya felt no desire to join them in preparations for the Autumnal Equinox festival – she had no mirth to contribute to the festival at all, and instead planned on recusing herself from the event. Regardless of where she went, or with whom, the abstinence of her friend’s love, and desire for their bonding, followed her – a horrible shadow that clung to her, even when the Sun shone brightest. His life was fragile, its length short, and she saw his grappling as a hindrance to the time that could be shared between them, despite the obstacles presented to them.

Her elder, Nana, was the only one of the temple who asked nothing of her, nor expected her presence in any capacity, except for that of a cup of tea. Nana was seven hundred years old, and she was the oldest and wisest among their community. She had long, silver hair that ran past her feet, and that matched her age; she had weathered skin and a warm smile that crinkled her eyes. Her home resided on the temple acreage, and she tended the sacred trees and flora and fauna that made the grounds lush and vibrant. Her cottage smelled of herbs, and the couch was well worn from visitors who sought her company. She was quick to listen, and slow to scold, but always had advice when it was asked of her.

“I have more ideas about the transmutation spell you asked me about some while ago,” Nana said, and served Anya a cup of berry tea. “I found a codex in the old catacombs of the temple. Don’t tell anyone.”

Anya smiled lightly, and held the cup in her lap. She had no desire to speak.

“There are many legends of shape shifting, as you know,” she continued with a huff and a grunt as she sat down on the couch. “Many talk of our ancient ancestors who could change into jaguars or hummingbirds during the heat of battle. Even dragons. But birds and cats sounds more believable to me,” she eyed her young guest with a simper. “Though much of what is written in these codices are thought of as fantasy by the majority – superstition and stories meant to inspire awe and terror into the hearts of enemies from long ago.”

“Do you believe it is possible?” Anya asked.

Nana looked at her and shrugged as she took a sip of tea. “I’ve seen too much to disregard anything at all. There are some who are gifted with the abilities of magic – like you and your parents; others who can communicate with animals and spirits. Who’s to say there is not a gene somewhere out there, wandering around, that can cause someone to shape shift? Maybe it got lost,” she chuckled.

“Did the codex suggest wanting anything in return for this power?”

Nana looked at her, suspicious, but she conceded: “No, there was no mention of an exchange – it was a power bestowed by the divinities. A gift. There were times it was granted as a way to smite an opponent in battle. Others, it was given as a way to protect a village or a family.”

Whatever the secret had been of transmutation, it was evident it was long lost, and was now regaled into the nebulous mythos of cultural tales. Anya set her untouched tea on the table in front of them, and nodded. “Thank you, Nana. But I do not feel up to having anything at the moment. I think I will leave.”

“What is wrong, my dear?” Nana asked, and held out her hand that she might stay.

“It is nothing. Childish things.” She shook her head, afraid she would think her a fool for her despondency. Viktor’s stubbornness was a sufficient burden, but Nana’s disapproval would be more than she could bear.

Nana gave her a sad smile as she watched the affliction on her soft face. “There is no such thing as too small a grief.”

Anya looked to her, reticent. She debated on what to say, but knew that if there was any one person in her community who could be relied upon, it would be Nana. “It does not feel small,” she admitted.

“This isn’t about runes.” Nana set her cup of tea down.

“No. It is not.” She looked out of the window at the far end of the room, she watched as the wildflowers blew, delicate and limber, in the afternoon sun – their stems and leaves had begun to turn brittle as Summer ended and as Autumn began. Soon, they would be wilted and returned to the earth from which they first grew. Viktor’s ailing health pressed upon her heart and she resisted the stinging in her eyes. She swallowed the hot, salted water that had gathered at the back of her throat, and she kept her head down. “There is someone with whom I wish to bond,” she said. She could not bring herself to say anything more.

“Have they refused you?” Nana asked.

“The desire is mutual. But he will not bond with me.”

Nana could think of no reason why someone would be so indecisive. Anya was well off – finances would never be a concern; there were no wars in which their kind had been involved, in Piltover or in Zaun, that could have amassed prejudice; there were no quarreling families within their own community that would prevent a peaceful union with Anya – a union with her would have been covetous. “Why?” she asked, bewildered.

“He is human,” she said. The tears she fought gathered at the edges of her eyes, and she struggled to keep them at bay as she looked at her elder. She turned away as a droplet ran down her face. “His health is frail, even by the standard of his kind. His lifespan will be cut short. He will not bond with me, so that I will not be alone when he dies.”

“That is honorable.”

“Too honorable,” Anya sniffled.

Nana smiled. There were few who understood and heeded the ways of their species – especially humans. To find someone with such zealous respect was both a blessing and curse.

“Nana – What is it like? To have a bonded who is no longer here.”

She took a long, slow breath, and memories passed her eyes as she thought on what to say. Her own bonded had been gone for nearly fifty years. It felt like an eternity. “I can still feel him – as I always did. When you bond with someone, you can feel what they feel, you can know where they are, and see the world through their spirit. It is the same, even now. He is still alive, somewhere. But not here. I feel that he misses me, as much as I miss him,” she gave Anya a smile, one full of joy and longing. She caressed her face – bright and full of youth and knowing. “This man loves you. Human men make no sacrifices for things they do not love. What will be, will be. Even if you love him from afar.”

Another tear fell onto Anya’s visage, and Nana gently brushed it away.

Anya returned to her quiet, cavernous home as clouds began to move their way through the sky. She recalled a rainy day in Zaun, where her mother told her to search for a bucket in the scrap heap around the corner from their house. The roof had sprung a leak, and Anya spent the night bailing out buckets of water. She was stricken with the cold, and became bed-ridden and ill, her mother tended to her with poultices and compresses for a week.

Her mansion made of marble had no leaks, and every gutter led to the gardens beneath. There were beds for vegetables and fresh herbs, there were fruit trees and bushes that yielded plentiful stone fruits and berries. She wanted for nothing. Except for the love she could not have.

She sat alone the rest of the afternoon in the salon, with a well lit fire and a hot cup of coffee as the rain began to fall, persistent and dour against the breadth of the windowpanes. She had numerous books on runes and shape shifting spread across the cushions, but she resented each of them. They all reminded her of Viktor.

Viktor arrived at the lab in a foul mood. The previous night left him restless, and what little sleep he gathered was listless and fitful. His mind was tired and overworked, and his heart had grown numb from the final exchange he shared with Anya; it sat on his stomach like a stone, and he felt himself pinned beneath it. Though he gave little credence to the tenements of Fate, he was beginning to believe in something far worse: bad luck. Luck, that he had reconnected with his friend after a decade and a half, and bad luck to have sabotaged his relationship with her. He lost the love of his life. He had no one other than himself to blame.

Viktor said nothing upon entering the lab and he promptly sat at his workbench, hunched over his journal; he analyzed the data he gathered the previous evening, along with several of Anya’s notes taped to the inside of his notebook. He could feel Jayce’s eyes on him from across the room.

Jayce sat not far away – he had been studying the crystal under a lens, having arrived at the lab nearly two hours before his partner. He leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh, his hands ran down his face – every facet of the crystal was beginning to blur into one another, and he could hardly tell the difference between the runes anymore. He looked up towards his friend again, who seemed to share his same, glossy-eyed look.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Viktor gave no reply.

Jayce tilted his head, trying to see the expression on his friend’s face. It was stern, guarded, and unmoving. Viktor was not often outwardly expressive, but he was not devoid of feeling altogether, and he had come to know Viktor well enough to see when his friend was perturbed – despite the few indications he might give evidently. Jayce rolled the chair closer to his partner. “Hey –” he tapped his shoulder.

Viktor started and took a sharp breath. “What?” he growled as he shot Jayce a glance.

“I think we could both use a break. Why don’t we get something to eat.” A drop in blood sugar would explain Viktor’s harsh disposition.

He waved him off. “I am fine, go on without me.”

Jayce stared at him with scepticism. “You don’t look fine.”

Viktor closed his eyes and slowly inhaled. “There are things in my private life I would like to keep private,” he said. Jayce had become a friend – Viktor’s only friend besides Anya; and while his two friends were each other’s acquaintance, Viktor was careful never to divulge more than the superficial in regard to Anya and her background. He had given Jayce no knowledge as to her species, or her capabilities as a mage; the extent of his appraisal had been their friendship in childhood, and her success at the Academy. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Concern built itself deeper into Jayce, and worry furrowed itself into his features. Not long ago, Viktor saved his life from the broken ledge of his apartment. The chill of that terrible night’s air gripped him by the throat, and he refocused himself onto his friend, instead. “You don’t have to suffer in silence.”

Viktor stopped, overcome with the memory of watching Jayce nearly step over the ledge and into death. They never spoke of it. They did not have to. It was a hermetic secret between the two of them, one that was never forgotten, and never mentioned. But Viktor could hear between what was not said. He sighed and turned on the stool, throwing the pencil on the notebook. “There is a dilemma, in my personal life, that has no favorable solution,” he said. “My only choice is to accept the consequence, and proceed with my life. My work,” he motioned to the notebook.

Jayce stared at him, more confused than before, his worries no more allayed. “Are you…getting fired?”

Viktor scoffed. “No. Although, I supposed I could be,” he murmured. His position at the Academy forbade any fraternization with a donor. It was yet another obstacle that bid him forget about whatever childish emotions welled themselves inside of his mind. “My affections for Anya have grown beyond that of friends,” he admitted. The feeling of her soft skin imprinted itself on his hands as he spoke, the feel of her breath as he kissed her, the sweet taste of her – she flooded into him all at once, and his chest tightened.

Jayce’s face softened and he began to smile.

“There is nothing to be done about it.” He turned back to his workbench.

“What do you mean?” Jayce asked, taken aback.

Viktor rolled his tongue in his mouth, his jaw stiffened and his eyes pierced through the pages of the book underneath his palms. He debated whether to speak of Anya’s species, but if he knew anything of his friend, he knew Jayce understood the value of a secret. “Anya is not like you and me. Her species is capable of living for a thousand years. In that time, they will have only one mate. It is for their lifetime. It is a bond that will last, even after death. My affection for her now will be meaningless in five hundred years.” He swallowed and closed the notebook. “She would be alone. That is not something I will allow.”

“So you’re not going to say anything?”

“I already have.”

“And? What did she say?”

“We have not spoken in a week, since.”

“Well what the hell did you say?”

Viktor rolled his eyes. “I was honest with her. It is what she deserves. I told her my affection, and also told her it was better we do not bond.”

“She deserves the opportunity to decide for herself, Viktor.”

The lines in Viktor’s face drew deeper, and he felt offense flush his face.

“You made the decision for her. What if she wants to be with you?”

“Then it would be better for me to suffer the next thirty years alone, than her for centuries more.”

Jayce stayed quiet as he watched his friend anguish.

“My refusal to bond with her is not out of arrogance or self-centeredness.”

“Viktor, she won’t wait for you forever.”

“That is exactly the point,” he denounced him. “Thirty years from now, I will be dead. And in three hundred years, she will find another she loves.”

“What if she doesn’t find anyone? What if it’s only you?”

“Statistics would argue otherwise.” He sighed and looked away from his friend as he leaned back in the chair. “I would never fault her for wanting to love another. But we will have already been bonded.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, not bad – foolish. We are not the same kind. We were not meant to bond.” He ended the conversation and returned to his notes.

Jayce gave him a disgruntled frown, though he knew Viktor was unable to see it. He remained silent, and only watched his friend compartmentalize his pain – despite how well Viktor assumed he was hiding it, Jayce could see his grief plainly. They had not known each other long, but knew him to be a lonely, stoic man, who devoted his life to proving his worthiness through science and advancement. He was a good man, who always thought of others before himself. Who thought of the woman he loved before his own desires. Jayce could not say the same about himself. Though he did not know Anya well, he knew she was the only one who could make Viktor laugh and smile without restraint; when they were together, Jayce saw enjoyment in his life – rather than only discipline and hardship.

Perhaps he lived vicariously through his friend – that the merit of perseverance could be met with reward and happiness. Perhaps he resented him for refusing to accept such happiness. Or perhaps he was merely frustrated with his friend’s stubbornness. “You’re fighting this really hard,” he said.

Viktor took a grated breath and threw up his palms, knowing he would not get any work done with Jayce’s ever-optimistic meddling. “What would you have me do?”

“Stop sabotaging yourself.”

“And when she is left alone with no one, with nothing? What then? I will not be responsible for her suffering.”

“You already are.”

Viktor gnawed the inside of his mouth and looked away.

“You can’t live your life in the theoretical.”

Life was incalculably more complicated than the theoretical, or the practical – it was an egregious amalgamation of both, that fit neither descriptor. And sometimes, there were no viable solutions. Sometimes, there was only the best that could be done. Viktor’s parents did the best they could, despite their poverty, despite their flaws and faults. There were times, much like this, he wished he could talk to them. Ask for their guidance and advice, their life experience. But even without it, Viktor did the best he could.

That was all that could be done.

Viktor drove a carriage from the Academy, after Jayce left the lab in the late afternoon. The Sun was setting, and dusk and rain were easily approaching on the horizon – cooler hues of orange and magenta sunk with the dark, impending clouds behind the Piltover skyline, and Viktor recalled a time when he could not see the Sun set, nor when it rose. He drove in silence as he mulled over the arguments of his friend, and the blistered emotions that imprinted themselves within his chest. The ability to intuit the machine beneath his hands allowed his mind to wander freely; he shifted it from each of its gears without fault or hesitation, and his left leg moved with ease to control the clutch and acceleration. The ability to pilot a machine granted him freedom from the physical fetters that plagued him daily – the rare moments in which he felt his body free from restraint, granted his mind clarity and respite.

Anya deserved honesty, he concluded. Honesty – not only in his emotions, but in his actions. There was a distinct line he observed: to deny them both the opportunity of bonding was dishonest, to himself, and also to her. Jayce, for all his meddling, had been correct: Anya deserved to make her own honest decisions, and Viktor was required to trust her instincts, and trust the decisions she made for the course of her future. It was iniquitous, and it was presumptuous to determine her future for her. It was her future. Not his. But together, they could share the present.

The road to her home was winding, along a paved path lined with trees and wildlife. Though her mansion was modern, even by the Kiramann’s standards, the reclusivity and pastoral beauty of its location was something that appealed to him. Her culture revolved around the natural world, around the connection between their species and all life around them. It suited her that her home was deep within the forest. The fresh air of the treeline, and the onset of clean rain was a relief to his lungs, and to the memories of Zaun’s filth that permeated his mind.

The carriage pulled into the circular driveway, and he could see a dim light through the many windows of the house. Rain pummelled his shoulders the moment he stepped out, and he hurried with his cane as well as he could across the cobblestone for cover underneath the porch. But the winds were shifting through the forests and mountains around them, and despite the cover of the overhang, the rain smattered him sideways. He pulled a gilded knocker on the door, and tapped it three times. He waited, eagerly, and mulled over everything he wanted to say while he attempted to keep a chill at bay.

Moments seemingly blurred into hours, and, presently, Anya answered the door.

“Viktor?” She stared at him, shocked – misery clung to his features, and she knew he had not slept; hunger drew the color from his face, and the rain drenched him from his hair to his shoes.

Everything he wanted to say, everything he planned on saying – every point he wanted to make suddenly vanished. He stood there – dumb and silenced.

“Are you alright?”

But everything he wanted to say, could be condensed into one singular phrase: “Anya, I love you.” He met her eyes with pleading, and swallowed; he felt bare having said the words aloud. “I do not know anything with certainty, but that I love you. I do not know the future. And I know nothing of magic. But, I try.” Even in the downpour around them, his throat felt parched. “I want to try. For however long the future will have me in this life. If you will have me.”

Anya’s heart raced within her, and she saw their future written plainly on his face: one of happiness, and one of hope – despite whatever hardships they might face. Her smile trembled at the thoughts and images that played before her mind’s eye. She nodded, breathless.

But he shook his head, afraid she had given her blessing too soon. He reached for her, as if to implore her, and petition her grace. “I cannot give you status. I can give you no children –”

She dismissed his fear, and cupped his face. “I do not bond with you for what you can give me,” she said. “My bond is my love for you, Viktor. Always.”

Viktor weakened at her words, and water flushed his face – though from tears, or from the rain, he could no longer distinguish. Her hands were warm, and any part of him that had been frozen or chilled melted at her touch. He nuzzled his cheek into her palm, and took her hand to kiss it – his cane moved to the crook of his arm. He breathed in her scent and revelled in the benevolence of her softness, with the thought of awakening to her beside him every morning, and falling asleep to the sound of her every night. He looked to her one last time: “Are you certain?”

“More than anything.” She brushed the water from the stern lines of his countenance, and gently pulled him towards her.

Gladly, he met her lips and drank in the sweetness of her taste. He caressed his palms around her face, where he left behind streaks of rain on her skin, and on her clothes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him taut, pressed against her.

Viktor took a breath and leaned against her face as she nuzzled her head into his shoulder. A pang gathered in his throat: not one of sadness, nor of the grief that had so despairingly plagued him the last week, but a pang of great and overwhelming emotion. Which emotion he could not clearly ascertain: happiness, relief, uncertainty and anxiousness of the future. It was akin to the peace and quiet calm that is only left behind after a storm. He felt a tear escape him, amidst the serenity inside of him. “What must I do,” he asked, his voice overcome with whelm and affection, “to bond with you, with the ritual of your people?”

Anya held him tighter with gratitude for his recognition, and moved to see his eyes: “You must find me a feather, and braid it into my hair.”

The carnal intimacy of her sacred hair – to caress it, and comb it, to bring her pleasure with it, seldom occurred to him, but the thought was ardent and clear to him now. He stroked the side of her face, where the back of his hand graced against the edge of her mane; she emanated a quiet purr at his touch, and he relinquished his hand, flustered – though she had made no effort to pull away from him. He took her hand, instead, and kissed it once more.

Anya invited him inside, to warm himself by the fire; he sat on the couch where she had staked herself throughout the afternoon – books were still strewn across the salon, he chose one as he put his leg up onto an ottoman. Before he could protest, she poured him a hot cup of coffee of his own, and offered him a helping of sweet bread and fresh cheese.

“Thank you,” he said, and took the cup and plate.

“You forgot to eat again.”

“Bad habit,” he looked at her, diffident.

She raised a brow. “Which means you have also forgotten your medicine.”

Realization struck him, and he searched his pocket for his pill case. In the wave of ecstasy and emotion, he had not felt the pain in his back and hip, but as his mind anchored itself again, he felt it worm itself into the forefront of his attention.

Anya sat next to him, and leaned against him as he ate, and drank, and swallowed his pills. He looked at her, in the firelight – she was the beauty of a brilliant star, illuminated by the cosmos. He wrapped her in a blanket that was thrown behind them on the couch. He wondered, what life would be like thirty years thence, when he was frail, when he had even less to give her – nothing except the love he would always have for her. He saw his own future with her, as the fire danced across her: lenitive, contented, and a life in which he may always be free from fear. With her, Viktor felt safe. He always had. He always would.

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charleecat-bat · 1 year

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SLASHER/HORROR AU

So a handful o fyou actually were interested aside from one person by the time i’m making this so yeah uh. look away. don’t wanna be upsetting.

NOW i do want to clarify that I made this in the sense to be a black comedy sort of AU due to watching so many skits and shorts of horror characters in comedic situations, that was my main inspiration.

my buddy @barsikscorner has been helping me develop ideas for this weird lil au.

enjoy below

please keep in mind it’s def not for sensitive softhearted people. I want to entertain with my ideas as weird as they are.

Sonic- A supernatural being who has memories of being alive but doesn’t remember what happened to him or how he died. It took him a long time to understand it but having a ‘life’ of inactivity and seeing so much more bad stuff when you’re not properly alive made him want to take action and he soon learnt how to. He toys with victims and tries to scare them into righting their wrongs but if they’ve done something unforgivable or irreversible or refuse to change, he kills them in a creative fashion. kinda based off freddy kruger but less nasty and gross.

Amy- A slasher known as either the Cupid Killer or the Rose Ripper. Goes after abusive partners and sexual predators due to her idealistic image of love so seeing this sort of behaviour makes her fly into a rage. uses her iconic hammer mostly for her kills. She wears a heart themed mask.

Tails- a sort of 'cyber' ghost. he had died and his spirit became ingrained into tech and cyberspace. He can sort of 'appear' outside of tech and into the material world but not for too long. Can communicate with people, mostly his victims, through their tech. He targets criminals and terrible people of all sorts online and either forces them to repent for their crimes or just makes their life a living hell until he decides to end it, whether it be for him or making them doing to themselves.

Cream- mostly normal. Has a strange connection to monsters and creature however and hence the chaos. They protect her. Chaos have a bit of a 'yes they're cute but they can be dangerous' reputation in this AU. they definitely have taken care of people that have threatened the sweetie bbies life and safety without her knowledge.

Vanilla- A protective mother who either lost her first child or almost lost Cream herself so she started to become a serial killer who went after child murderers, abusers and predators. She keeps this side of her away from Cream and is a loving mother nonetheless. Her main weapon are garden shears that can be seprated into a pair of blades and her mask is deocrated with flowery designs.

Knuckles- an undead/ghost like slasher that has become one with the woods he’s connected to, quite literally having roots and such all over and even inside of him (being exposed in old wounds he has). He’s cursed to walk amongst the mystical land that he was murdered on and now protects it and keeps people out. He’s very easy to anger but he’ll never attack people like lost children or people who are obviously not looking to trespass and are lost. Anyone who does trespass and does anything he deems disrespectful to the land or just refuse to leave he handles violently. He tends not to leave the area and hasn't even tried to. He might be able to. Might not.

Shadow- A space-like being that can shapeshift into horrifying forms. He was taken and experimented on a spaceship but grew close to a human girl named Maria on board. They used this to have a chance to study him without the risk of him being aggressive. After she was killed during a government break-in and he was captured and taken back to Earth. He went on a vengeful rampage in the base and now just does his own thing on earth since he can't exactly leave. He was tempted to destroy everyone but now is content on just watching the stupid shenanigans and occasionally tormenting someone he doesn't like. And gossip. Inspired by Pennywise/It and Predator

Rouge- a seductive slasher that has very strange desires and doesn’t really have any motivation other than she wants to. She likes to take bones (and occasionally the blood) of her victims to make accessories and jewellery out of them. She’s not completely heartless though and has standards and there stuff she won’t do. She uses her beauty and appearance to lure victims most of the time, to appear innocent and harmless or sexy and sultry depending on what she wants. She wear’s a beautiful decadent mask, and sports specialised finger blades she created into gloves.

Silver- a mysterious spirit that’s tied to a cursed object. he has telepathic and telekinetic abilities and can burn disturbing images and distort a persons mind and body possibly, even mind control if he wants to need to decide how he functions properly more so inspired by samara/sadako and possibly think of other inspirations like bagul from sinister

Blaze- an otherworldly being that is hinted to used to be a normal person in one lifetime but no longer is. She works by supernatural means and tortures her victims horrifically but doesn’t do it indiscriminately. Mostly only does it when she wants, especially to those that try to summon her and use her power for themselves. Inspired by pinhead mostly but also could take elements of candyman

Big- a wild beast man that didn't have a regular upbringing. He has a werewolf-like condition where he turns into a beast against his control, for his own safety and everyone else's safety he lives in isolation. He as a special connection to animals and even has befriended Froggy who is a monstrous being that can disguise itself as a frog, it’s been named the loveland frogman when caught in one of it’s many forms. His uncle had raised him alone and kept him in the dark about how dangerous he really could be and mostly did his best to keep him safe, so out of all of them he is one of the most innocent as the worst he does is literally against is control and he's unaware of it since the most he'll know is that he'll wake up and just look around adn see blood and gore or see it on himself. He has more animal friends than mobian friends.

Vector- a justice-seeking serial killer. He worked as a main detective with cops but grew tired of seeing not only horrible people go free and dodge the law and their punishment but even see the people that are 'supposed' to be the good guys be horrible people and letting shit slide. So he decides to take the law into his own hands and goes after anyone who he sees needing a just punishment in his city, dirty cops, abusers, predators, politicians, basically anyone who he thinks are utterly awful people that deserve to be punished. He can be quite sadistic and torturous with them and is very thorough with his research. was initially inspired by Jigsaw but he's not a hypocritical prick like Kramer.

Espio- He’s in a strange state of being an ‘undead’ being. He can’t quite tell if he’s alive but no longer mortal or if hes’ dead but still around on the mortal plane. He's kinda just... stuck in between. It’s a very strange situation. Theres evidence supporting both, he can still bleed the tiniest bit but no longer feels and still occasionally needs to eat and drink but he definitely doesn't have as much limitations he was when he was mortal/alive. Vector had found him when he broke into and ‘dealt’ with his abductor and ‘murderer’, they Vector and Espio got quite a fright when Espio was somehow still alive. Since then Vector has looked out for the lone chameleon despite being confused about his situation. He works as an assistant to Vector and they do have a very 'big brother' 'little brother' bond. He wears an Oni-themed mask. He has strange markings on his body such as his hands his back and chest, he still doesn’t know wha tthey mean but feels they have something to do with what happened to him.

Charmy- normal mostly but can see ghosts and even repel them in a way but he doesn’t realise it. winds up protecting vec and esp from a lot of unseen danger and also is unaware of this. Charmy frequently will talk to ghosts but Vector is honestly fine with this due to all the weirdness he's run into, and initially, he just thought it was Charmy having imaginary friends. He is not involved at all in Vector and Espios 'business' because they dont' think he needs to know about that.

Mighty- a murderous and protective spirit. he was murdered by 'accident' (if you call taking abuse too far an accident) by his father due to all the physical abuse but it was made to look like an accident so his father could save his reputation. His little sister was enraged by this injustice and in an attempt to find closure and just to talk to her brother again, his spirit was summoned and he became a vengeful being that wanted to protect her. She unleashed him on their father as a result. Matilda either summons his spirit or he just makes his own way to protect innocent people, mostly children but anyone they feel needs protection… or anyone they just want to suffer. When not angry Mighty is actually still the same form what he was in life, minus a bit of more of a temper.

Matilda- a creepy and slightly unhinged girl that studied the occult. She had done a ritual/seance to summon her brothers spirit again when he was murdeed and now he serves as her murderous protector. or just annoying ghost borther who watches and judges anything she does that he doens't like. Judgemental eyes from the grave from your brother is very annoying.

Ray- ghost boy that got attached to Mighty’s spirit and Matilda. they let him stay as he really doesn't do anything to harm then and is just lonely. He doesn't really do much of anything but can lure mighty to people, startle them to shit or even attack them but he leaves the more lethal stuff to Mighty. (kinda like toshio from ju-on/the grudge)

Nack- a heavily abused slightly mentally unstable hybrid that was abused by his small town heavily until he finally snapped and went on a rampage, killing some and driving the rest out. The village became run down and abandoned very quickly, becoming overun by nature again. The only thing intact is a scrappily made shack that Nack made himself in the middle of the land. He lives on the large property of land and guards it and does anything and everything to keep people out due to still being traumatised and afraid of people and thinking they're going ot hurt him and just not trusting them. He is proficient with guns and prefers his shotgun but can and will use other weapons, a hunting knife, machete or even a chainsaw. He's shown to be incredibly strong despite his small size, being able to run with a chainsaw in hand. (inspired by leatherface and mick taylor)

Bark- a cold serial known as the Billionaire Butcher that targets greedy billionaires, getting a distaste for them after growing up surrounded by like-minded people. He drains their accounts and steals money and while he does pocket a small amount for himself, he doesn’t keep all of it because he doesn't want to become what they are. Most likely just keep his own regular reputation as good hearted philanthropist by donating a lot of money to good causes. His main methods include using an ice-pick as his main weapon due to experience with the tool. He met Nack in a rather awkward way but they quickly became friends and he was the first person allowed on Nacks property.

Bean- A mentally unhinged boy that has a penchant for fire and burning things. Just a very strange kid. he escaped from a mental hospital and ran onto nacks property and he and bark just let him stay as despite his mental stability of there lack of he was mostly harmless to them. he doesn't talk a lot about his past but has shared tidbits, including stories of abuse, burning his own home down and mistreatment and abuse from the hospital. he ever has burn scars. He tends to chill out in the attic of their home and just likes to appear out of nowhere. (sort of inspired by billy from black christmas)

Infinite- A telekinetic and telepathic being who was ostracised by a large ration of people in his home town, mostly the religious types due to thinking he was a devil-child. He snapped after thinking he lost his family when his house was set on fire.As a result he went on a rampage destroyed the a huge chunk town with his powers and killing the ones who were responsible. He now lives and deals with a lot demons and strangeness... literally. He’s not aware his family actually survived they just didn’t even give him a moment to hear this and he left before he actually got told. DUMMY (Inspired by Carrie)

Gadget- a victim of a wannabe cult, they wanted to sacrifice him but it didn’t work and he became possessed by an incubus, a demon of lust. He struggles with his urges due to the demon and at first fought it and then finds an arrangement thanks to Infinte, his boyfriend. Actually kills people while doing the deed with it and if needed, feeds on their bodies, not the extent of Storm. (Inspired by Jennifers Body kinda) The demon has a slightly different voice and changes the colour of his eyes when it's speaking through Gadget and Gadget definitely has a demon form that is either physically attractive or purely terrifying depending on the taste. It’s not an entirely pleasant situation btu Gadget learns to handle it.

Jet- a insecure and pissy lil birb boy that got into a life of serial killing after his cousin got possessed and needed flesh/blood to survive. At first, it was nerve-wrecking but he quickly got a taste for it as he enjoys making people feel powerless and afraid, he toys with them before finishing the job including phone calls, threatening messages and taunting them verbally while going after them. Inspired by Ghostface. He gets mad fun of a lot by the other professionals.

Wave- a dark web guru. She has a massive powerful following on the deep dark web and does a lot of dark illegal things, such as selling body parts on the black market and even doing strange videos and documentation of experiments. She was also not involved initially but due to the situation their cousin got into she quickly did and then quickly found out about how much money they could get and also get rid of a lot of the body parts. Win-win situation in her mind. She has definitely gone a bit crazy due to all her experimenting and the shit she does for the dark web. She wears a plague doctor-inspired mask when recording and documenting stuff for the dark web.

Storm- While originally only doing little crimes like thievery for money, he also was the victim of the same wannabe cult that Gadget was and it also failed, becoming possessed by a demon of gluttony. It makes him want to devour flesh and blood and he unfortunately had no choice. When he gets to the point where the demon demands for him to consume, he cant eat anything else even if he tries. It just comes right back up and he starves. He’s still coming to terms with it and grew depressed and got a bit of a tricky relationship with food. he gets some help from gadget so shit doesn't suck for him entirely anymore. The Demon definitely is based off of Venom is some silly way. The demon is a bit of a screamer and talks loudly to Storm and since only storm can hear it 90 percent of the time he gets VERY tired of it (i initially wanted him to be food related like a killer chef but god i didn't want him to be a willing cannibal that's just another level of ICK)

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fixfoxnox · 2 years

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Something In The Orange - Part 17

Description: The 141 raid Makarov's compound

Warnings: Violence, Graphic Violence, Makarov being Creepy, Implied non-con (Sorta? Like threats are made that imply it)

Note: I am also uploading this fic to my Ao3 if you would prefer to read it there

Word Count: 8.9k

"Cause this ship is sinking past the whiskey

Give me my last cigarette

Tell my mother not to worry

Oh, my friends, this is the end, this is the end"

"This Is the End" - The Ghost of Paul Revere

“Captain, we’re almost there,” Nikolai’s voice rang through the small chopper, “Your team will have to move quickly though, the other pilots tell me they’re coming under RPG fire.”

Price nodded to the man, “Right, just get us in as close as you can. Thanks for this Nik.” The two shared a brief smile before Price was turning back to the other members of the 141, his eyes scanning over their serious faces, “Ready lads?”

“As I’ll ever be, Captain,” Gaz responded back immediately, a look of determination on his face as he checked over his gun once again.

Price let his eyes stray over to Ghost and Soap. The men sat close to one another and, based on the way that their fingers were slightly tangled together, he could assume that the two had been giving each other comfort for the entire ride. He wasn’t surprised, they’d both seemed on edge when they were loading up. He knew that the two were worried about Roach.

“Lads?” He called to them after a moment. He caught Soap’s gaze, then Ghosts, “We’re gonna get him outta there, alright?”

“Right,” Soap responded after a moment, his voice low. It built up in confidence with his next words, “We’re going to get him out of there. And we’re going to kill that fucking asshole Makarov.”

Price gave him a half smile, “Tha’s the spirit,” his eyes turned to Ghost, searching for the assurance that he needed so that he would know that the other man would be able to make it through the mission. That assurance came in the form of a confident nod. Price gave him one in return. He knew that he’d be alright.

“Thirty seconds to drop,” Nikolai called at the front of the chopper.

Price could already hear gunfire and explosions from outside of the chopper, fighting had already started beneath them. He knew that the team was about to find themselves in deep hell. He also knew that it was going to be ridiculously hard for the team to find Roach or Makarov in the craziness of the field below.

He didn’t let it get to his head. Instead, he took a deep breath as he and the team hooked into the ropes on the chopper, holding tight as Nikolai’s movement grew a little wild in the air as he got them closer and closer to the ground. He took another deep breath, reminding himself that, after weeks of feeling helpless, he was finally going to bring his team back to safety and put an end to the man who had caused so much strife to himself and the men around him.

Nikolai gave the word. The team dropped down into the chaos.

Roach stayed at his window for several minutes, listening with excitement as chaos reigned around him. He let out a joyous laugh as he began to hear the chaos right outside of his door in the building. He knew he would need to start moving soon. He had so much to do. Still, he gave himself a moment to relish in the fact that he’d actually done it. He’d actually fucking done it.

A hand came to cover his face slightly as laughter escaped his mouth. He wished that, in that moment, he had been by Makarov’s side when the chaos started. He wanted to see the man’s face. He wanted to see the man realize he’d been outplayed. That somehow, someway, Roach had tricked him.

He let himself excitedly pace around in front of his window for a moment, excitement thrumming through his veins. The next few hours were, no doubt, going to be pure chaos for himself. He needed to get his head on straight.

He knew that one of the first things he would need to do is try to get communication up with Price somehow. That was going to be easier said than done. No doubt that there were several different channels of communication going on between the invading soldiers. It would take him several different sweeps to actually find out which channel the 141 was on. That, in itself, would take time.

Besides that, he also recognized the more pressing matter. There was no doubt in his mind that Makarov would be looking to escape from the base as soon as possible. He would likely be traveling with a small group of guards and he would be moving quick. Roach had a decent idea of where the man would go and he knew that with all the chaos, it would take Makarov time to get there, but still, he’d prefer not to take any chances of the man escaping.

Eventually, he decided that his best bet was going to be to go after Makarov by himself. Finding communication with Price would have to come as an afterthought, something that, if he saw availability for while chasing down the terrorist, he would take. Otherwise, he wouldn’t seek it out.

Roach took a glance at the metal band around his wrist. There was a feeling that pricked at the back of his mind, reminding him of what he’d accepted for himself. He ignored it. With one last look out the window to the mountains outside, Roach turned, prepared to make his way out of the room with nothing but his own hands to defend himself.

The door to the room opened before he could reach it, a man stepped in and closed the door behind him carefully. He had a handgun pointed carefully at Roach, “Don’t move.”

Roach froze, his hands moving up to a position of surrender. He eyed the gun nervously, this was not good. “Dr. Petrov,” he acknowledged carefully, “What’s going on? I heard the explosions and now it sounds like a war is going on outside.”

“Don’t,” Dr. Petrov gave him a hard look, “I am not fooled by you Sergeant. My nephew might have been, but I see the truth.”

Roach resisted the urge to take a step away from the man. This was not what he needed to be dealing with, but he knew that the likelihood of Petrov letting him leave the room, or even live for that matter, was quite low. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roach tried to keep his voice even.

“That little bump I felt in your wrist,” Petrov took a step closer, “it wasn’t metal from a break, it was a tracker wasn’t it? That’s how your friends found us here.”

Roach pursed his lips. He had very few options available to him and he needed to move. He slowly lowered his hands, his eyes darting around the room as he tried to figure out what to do. He wished desperately that Makarov would have allowed him to store the gun he’d been given in his room, but it seemed the man still hadn’t trusted him enough to allow that. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Dr. Petrov tilted his head, his eyes narrowed at Roach.

“Yes,” Roach met his gaze, “It’s a tracker in my wrist.” He paused a moment, tilting his head at Petrov. The man looked nervous, the gun in his hand shaking slightly. It was obvious to Roach that the man had likely only held a weapon in his hands a few times before. It was also obvious to him that the man likely hadn’t ever killed anyone. “What will you do now?”

Petrov hesitated, the tip of the gun lowering slightly. Roach watched emotions conflict on his face, “I’ll,” the man stumbled over his words, “You can’t leave.”

Roach gave a slow nod. He looked thoughtfully at the ceiling and folded his arms across his chest, “We have a bit of a problem then,” he looked back to the doctor, “How do you plan to keep me in here?”

Petrov motioned to the gun, “You’re unarmed.”

“Yes,” Roach took a step toward the Doctor, “But, my understanding is that Makarov has a no-kill order on me.” He tilted his head at the man as he stepped closer, “Are you going to kill me if I try to leave the room?” He continued taking slow steps toward the man, “Makarov probably won’t like that.”

“He won’t kill me,” Petrov said. His words weren’t confident. Roach knew he was doubting things. The gun drooped even further.

“Oh, really?” Roach made a clicking noise with his tongue, “Well, I’m sure you’re right.” He was close now, close enough that it would only take a quick lunge forward to wrap his hands around the gun. He stayed where he was, he had to play his cards right. There was a moment of quiet that hung in the air before Roach asked, “Have you ever killed anyone, Doctor?”

The man didn’t answer, but Roach could see from the look on his face that he was thrown off by the question. His face had gone a bit red and he could see sweat forming on his brow. He was almost shaking. All Roach needed to do was push a little harder.

“Do you know what it feels like to kill someone?” Roach tilted his head at him, “To have blood spill out from someone’s skin because of your own actions? To see the life leave their eyes? To live with the knowledge that you were the one to end someone’s time on this earth? It haunts you. You’ll never forget it.”

There was quiet. Roach could hear the Doctor’s shaky breaths, he could see the way the other man’s hands shook. Petrov was a Doctor, he was meant to heal people, not hurt them. Roach knew that. Petrov knew that. The man’s finger briefly left the trigger, Roach took the opportunity.

He leapt quickly, closing the space between them as his hands grabbed at the end of the gun, jerking the weapon to the side so that it would no longer be facing him. There was a struggle, both men grappling for the weapon with all of their strength.

Roach did what he could to keep the Doctor’s fingers away from the trigger, It was difficult work with the way that his hands were forced to twist unnaturally in order to keep his grip on the weapon. He kept pushing, slowly gaining ground with the weapon. There was a slip then, his hands just slightly missing the way that the new angle gave the Doctor an opening for the trigger.

The bang of a gunshot filled the room. Roach felt nothing, so he kept pushing. Petrov, on the other hand, froze at the sound. He obviously hadn’t expected to actually pull the trigger. It allowed Roach enough of a break that he could easily extract the weapon from the man in front of him.

He took several steps back, a sense of victory taking over his mind as he pointed the weapon at the man in front of him. Dr. Petrov didn’t react, he only stared. “Get out of the way,” Roach ordered, “I’m leaving.”

Petrov seemed to snap out of his stupor. His eyes met Roach’s, wide and horrified, but with a newfound sense of surety in them, that was clear to see. “With a wound like that?”

Roach raised an eyebrow at the man. Sure, his stab wound was stinging slightly from the movement, but he was sure that he’d be able to move around quite easily. It wasn’t like he was…

He felt the sting against his thigh first. His eyes tracked downward and he almost sighed as he spotted the blood seeping from his thigh. The wound wasn’t too bad, it looked like the bullet had cut through the side of his leg, leaving a gnarly gash, but nothing worse. It was going to hurt like hell to move on, but he knew that he didn’t have much of a choice. He could only hope that adrenaline would help to numb the pain.

He looked back up at the Doctor again, determination clear on his face, “Out of my way,” he ordered again. Roach could see the look on the other man’s face, he could tell what he was thinking. “Don’t,” he warned, “It won’t go well for you. I’m only going to give you the one chance.”

The air between the two was thick. There was a moment of pause as they waited to see what the other would do. Roach hoped, for the other man’s sake, that he would do as he asked and move out of his way. If he let him leave, that would be it. There wouldn’t have to be any more blood shed in the room. If he didn’t, well, Roach meant what he said about only giving the man the one chance.

The silence seemed to drag on, anticipation and nerves filling Roach’s veins until he was moving to shuffle forward slightly, slowly moving toward the door. It was his movement that sparked the shout from the Doctor as he lunged.

There was another gunshot, Petrov’s body dropped to the floor. Roach grit his teeth as he stared down at the man’s bleeding and whimpering form. He moved toward the door, stopping beside him to look down at his face.

“I am sorry,” Roach said, “You helped me a lot while I was here. I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me.” He tilted his head at the man, he considered him for a moment, a thought coming to his mind. “You did the best you could with Makarov,” he told him after a moment. It was a branch of kindness, a brief reassurance to a man who had so obviously been beating himself up for years. “You were good to him, but some things just couldn’t be helped. Trust me, I speak from experience.” He brought the gun up and delivered another shot, this time to the man’s temple.

He looked away from the now-still body on the floor, his eyes closing as he tried to reassure himself about what he was going to do. He was in too deep. He was going to kill Makarov.

He gave himself a nod and a deep calming breath before moving to the door, carefully opening it until he could see the chaos right outside of his room.

There were men rushing around, the second floor of the house practically abandoned as gunfire rung out on the first floor. It was clear to Roach that the Russian and American joint forces had already worked their way up to the house, though he knew that gunfights were likely still going on further into the base.

He crept out of his room, peering over the edge of the railing of the second floor to pick off four men who were hidden behind cover down below him. It seemed to be the help that the outside forces needed as soon there were men sweeping into the house, their weapons pointed all around. Roach caught sight of the American patch on one of them and moved out of his hiding place.

He kept his hands high as he called out, “Bluebird, bluebird!” It caught the attention of one of the men, his eyes darting up the stairs.

“Identify yourself,” he called out, his gun trained on Roach.

“Sergeant Gary Sanderson of the 141,” Roach called back to him. He saw recognition cross the man’s face and he watched his weapon lower slightly.

Roach started down the stairs toward him carefully, “You’re Sergeant Sanderson?”

“Yes,” he nodded to the man, “Listen I need a weapon and a communicator if you have a spare.” He pointed in the direction of the field of tanks, “You need to get troops over there soon before the ultranationalists get things functional over there. They have a practical army of tanks.”

The man called out to someone behind him and, after a moment, an automatic weapon and extra ammo were placed in Roach’s hands. Roach tucked the extra ammo into his pants, checking the weapon handed to him with satisfaction. “Here, take my communicator. Your team should be on channel eight,” the man carefully removed the wires and communication pack attached to his uniform.

“Thank you,” Roach pulled the communicator pack over his shoulders so that it could rest across his chest like a sash. He gave the earpiece a quick wipe down before attaching it to his own ear. He could hear muttering from the current channel that he was on, but he paid it no mind.

“No problem,” The man nodded to him, “Anything else we should be warned about?”

“Tell your pilots to watch the skies,” Roach told him, “If they see any sort of aircraft go up, it needs to come down. No matter what.” Roach gave him a quick pat on the shoulder before taking off to the outside of the building.

He moved as quickly as he could with his injuries, cursing his luck quietly. He clicked through the channels on the communicator as he ran, listening carefully as he fiddled with the thing, putting it on what he could only hope was channel eight. He paused a moment, trying to wait for someone else to speak. He gave up after a moment and tapped in, “Price? Can you hear me?”

The response on the line was chaotic, several voices ringing out in his ear.

“Roach?”

“Bug, fuck are you okay?”

“Holy shit, Roach! Where the fuck are you?”

A sigh of relief, “Bug.”

“Fuck, one at a time guys,” Roach called over the comms, amusement forming in his chest despite the situation around him. He ducked behind a building, dodging gunfire that he suddenly found aimed at him. He peeked around the corner, delivering two shots. “I’m alright,” he added, “I’ve got a weapon.”

“Where are you?” That was Price’s voice, laced with clear concern.

“Doesn’t matter,” Roach responded, his voice delving into grunts for a second as he smacked a man who’d turned the corner with the end of his weapon. He quickly turned it around, giving the man two shots to the chest before stepping over his body, “Price, you need to get to the airfield. It’s to the northeast, Makarov is headed there and he’s no doubt got a chopper to get him the hell out of here.”

“Right,” Price responded carefully, “You meet back up with the team-”

“No,” Roach cut him off, “I’m on my way to the airfield now.”

“Roach,” Price’s voice was low, “Aren’t you injured?”

Roach didn’t know how the man had known that. He ignored it, “Not enough that I can’t pull a trigger,” he responded quickly, “I’m not sitting this out. Meet me at the airfield, I’ll try and buy time if I need to. Going dark.” he flipped his comms off before anyone could argue, his legs pumping as he pushed himself toward the airfield.

It was a fairly decent distance to the airfield, so Roach pushed himself harder. Moving at any sort of quick speed was proving to be quite painful for him thanks to his stab wound and the new gunshot wound on his thigh, but he kept pressing himself forward. He was sure that, when things settles, he’d have ripped the stitches at his side once again. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

He realized, as he stopped to rest behind the cover of one of the buildings, that he wasn’t going to be able to keep up his current speed. He was out of breath and it was taking everything that he had not to keel over from the pain. If he wanted to make it to the airfield in time to stop Makarov and be in good enough health that he could potentially stop the man, he was going to need to figure something else out.

He looked around the corner of the building that he was hidden behind, observing the battlefield in front of him for any sort of aid that he could use. He didn’t spot anything, but, after observing his surroundings, he suddenly found himself realizing that his body had brought him to a stop right outside of one of the garages that housed various jeeps for off-base travel.

He almost couldn’t believe it, but he tried not to look into things too hard. He sent a quick thanks to lady luck, probably the first time he’d ever done that in either of his lives, before slowly beginning to trek his way around the side of the building and toward the side entrance in front of him.

He knew that there were likely going to be men waiting inside, either hiding out or getting themselves set up with the vehicles, so he didn’t bother attempting to open the door quietly. Instead, he bashed his gun onto the door, watching it fly open in front of him as he turned his weapon on the men who were unfortunate enough to find themselves in his sight lines. He delivered three shots to three men directly in front of him, before ducking down and sliding himself over to hide behind a supply box as bullets rang out to where he’d just been. He didn’t have any sort of explosives, smoke grenades, or flashbangs on him, so he knew he was going to have to take this next part fairly slowly.

The first thing to do was to get a lay of what he was dealing with. He, ever so slowly, moved his head to peer around the edge of the box, jerking back quickly as another round of gunfire came toward him. He’d spotted four men on that side of the box, so he focused his attention there.

He moved into a crouched position, his thigh screaming in protest but his entire body ready to spring forward the moment he gave the command. He waited, listening cautiously to the men call things out in harsh Russian. He didn’t move until he heard several of the men begin speaking at once, knowing that they were, at the least, slightly distracted by the speech.

He moved out quickly, shooting three of the four men he’d seen as he darted across to take cover behind a vehicle. He noted three other men as well. Once he was safely behind the jeep, he carefully peered inside, noting with satisfaction the keys that were hung on the sun visor. All that he needed now was to get the door to the garage open and he could make his escape. The unfortunate thing for him was that the button to open the garage was located at the direct center of the backside wall, meaning he would somehow have to push the men in the garage back enough that he could get to it.

He looked around, his eyes scanning for anything that he could possibly use to help himself. There was nothing close to him, and he let out a deep sigh, trying to consider his options. If he had a suppressor or a knife, he could potentially move around the room quietly enough that the men would lose track of him and he could pick them off one by one.

His mind moved briefly to the members of the 141. He desperately hoped that Soap and Ghost were faring better than he was. “Holy shit,” he muttered to himself, his mind providing him with a memory of one of Soap’s various rants in the cafeteria. He’d been talking about his time in Las Almas when he’d been forced to fashion weapons out of basic things in order to survive. Roach distinctly remembered the way that Soap had explained using pieces of scrap metal and tape to create a shiv for quick use.

His eyes darted around him and, sure enough, he was able to spot a sharp bit of scrap metal. He was careful as he moved to grab it, holding it loosely enough in his hands that he wouldn’t cut himself. There was a moment where he looked down at his clothes, trying to determine what he could lose to use as wrapping on the weapon. His eyes kept landing on his scarf, but a part of him screamed at the idea of it getting torn. Still, he didn’t have anything better, so after another moment of debate, he pulled the fabric from his belt loop.

He carefully wrapped the scarf around, trying to remind himself that if it tore, surely Jackson’s grandmother could repair it for him. After a moment, he was holding his makeshift knife in his hands, a sense of satisfaction coming over him as he flipped it through his fingers breifly.

There were footsteps slowly nearing him and he knew that he couldn’t sit still any longer or he’d have several men upon him. With that in mind, he began slowly shuffling around the edge of the jeep, his eyes watching closely as he carefully crept around the room. He was looking for any of the men who appeared to be vulnerable enough for him to take out. He found his target on almost the complete opposite side of the garage.

It was a bit of a move, and by the time he was halfway there, he could hear one of the men calling something out, likely reporting that he was no longer behind the jeep and that the men needed to keep their eyes out. He managed to roll under one of the vehicles just as someone turned the corner in between the two vehicles he’d been at. He rolled out on the other side, carefully moving around the side of the jeep and back towards the front, waiting patiently.

He stayed silent and perfectly still until he saw a flash of fabric. At that moment, he lunged forward, slamming his makeshift knife into the shin of the man in front of him. When the man doubled over at the pain, Roach pulled the metal back out, shifting it expertly in his hands so that he could slam it up into the man’s neck. He pulled him to the ground quickly, pulling an actual knife from the man’s side and tucking it into his belt. He delivered several shots to a few men who had run toward the noise, only hitting two of them before darting back to hide in the maze of jeeps.

He carefully moved around the vehicles, keeping his footsteps silent as he approached another soldier from behind, both the knife he’d taken from the man and his makeshift knife held firmly in each of his hands. He could hear nervous muttering around the garage as the men realized they’d lost sight of him again. He didn’t wait to strike this time.

He darted out from behind the jeep he was at, quickly stabbing the man in the shoulder with one of the knives before using the metal to turn him so that he could quickly slide the other across his neck. He let the man’s body fall to the floor as he darted toward the jeeps lined up by the back wall. Again, he heard men come toward his location, but, by the time they arrived, he’d already moved further up.

Their words grew more frantic as Roach was finally able to smack the button to open the garage doors. Immediately the entire garage was exposed to the gunfire going on outside, some of the American and Russian Joint Taskforce soldiers noticing the sudden opening of the building and turning their fire inside.

Roach didn’t bother trying to stay stealthy anymore as gunfire rang around him. He kept low as he moved, trying to avoid being shot as he made his way quickly back to the jeep he’d picked out earlier. Along his path, he gave several shots to three men who were blocking his way. He tucked both the actual knife and his makeshift one into his pants again as he climbed into the jeep, his gun tossed into the passenger seat beside him. He quickly grabbed the keys, keeping his head low as he turned the jeep on. He didn’t waste any time before speeding out of the garage, steering himself toward the airfield.

His driving was, admittedly, quite reckless. He was swerving through what was essentially a battlefield, he knew that he needed to give himself a bit of wiggle room. Still, his body threatened to fall out of the vehicle with every harsh turn that he made to avoid gunfire that sprayed at him.

Somewhere along the line, he realized that his weapon had been flung out of the vehicle, he kept driving, he didn’t have time to stop for it. As the vehicle drew closer and closer to the airfield, he could see the fighting thinning out. There were several dead bodies along the path and Roach knew that they were from the man that he was currently chasing after.

As he grew closer and closer, he could see the chopper, men loading into the small thing as someone, no doubt the pilot, quickly walked around the vehicle to check things over. Roach realized, with horrifying clarity, as he watched the man load into the chopper that he wasn’t going to make it in time. His vehicle came skidding to a stop just beside the only building at the airfield.

He jumped out of the vehicle as the chopper took off into the air, horror growing in his chest as he looked up at it. Quickly, he turned back on his comms, “Price, we have an issue. Makarov’s chopper is taking off from the airfield, if you have any communication with any pilots you need to tell them to shoot the fucking thing down!”

“On it,” Was the only reply that Roach got. He stood, watching carefully as the chopper continued to rise in the air.

“Come on,” he muttered to himself, rage burning in his system. If Makarov got away, if he was too late…he couldn’t think about what he would do.

There was a streak across the sky. Roach heard it hit. He covered his eyes as an explosion rocked the air around him and the chopper came tumbling down toward the ground, hitting with a forceful and fiery impact. He took a step closer to it, satisfaction burning in his chest as he noticed no movement from the wreckage.

He remembered then, confusion filling his brain with fog as he looked down at the little bit of metal on his wrist, “They got it,” he reported over his comms. If Makarov was dead, then why wasn’t he…? “Guys,” he started, “I don’t think Makarov was on the chopper.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I just, have a feeling,” He rubbed at his wrist, his eyes returning to the wreckage, “Listen, just stick by the plan and meet me at the airfield. I have a bad-”

He froze. A shaky breath left his lips as he felt the barrel of a gun dig into his lower back. “Turn off your communicator, Insect. And turn around very slowly for me.”

There was a moment when Roach felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like he couldn’t move. The air around him felt thick as he realized that he’d been caught out. He’d been caught out and now, the likelihood was that he was going to die. His hand moved up to flick off his communicator at that thought. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to make the other members of the 141 listen.

He turned slowly, his feet shuffling slightly until he was facing Makarov, the man looking no worse for wear than he did the last time Roach had seen him. There wasn’t even sweat on the man’s skin. Roach clenched his jaw at the thought that getting to the airfield had been easy for him.

“Well,” Makarov started, peering over Roach’s shoulder to the crash as he spoke, “I do have to thank you. I’d planned to have you kill those men eventually. I suppose this was one way to have it done.” Roach felt sick to his stomach as the man fixed him with an easy smirk. “This was all very clever of you, Insect. I do have to ask, how did you get your location to the Americans?”

Roach held up his wrist numbly, “You weren’t the only one with the idea for a tracker.”

Makarov gave a tutting noise, “Hmm, how very clever of you. I can assume, as well, that Captain Price isn’t actually dead?” Roach could see the way the other man’s hand tightened on the gun. He only gave a nod in response. Makarov turned away briefly and Roach could see the frustration and rage that painted his face, though it was gone within the next moment. “Of course. Well, we’ll have plenty of time to rectify that. For now,” he paused, looking over Roach’s figure, “I want you to take that knife from your belt and cut the tracker from your wrist.”

There was a moment of silence as Roach gaped at the man. He was completely taken aback by the request. He couldn’t understand why it would matter to Makarov if he had a tracker in his wrist when he was dead. After a moment, he meekly asked, “What?”

Makarov tilted his head at him, amusement clear to see on his face. He was obviously enjoying Roach’s confusion as well as that bit of terror that had seeped into his voice. “Take that knife,” Makarov motioned to his belt, “And cut the tracker from your wrist.”

“I don’t,” Roach took a fumbled step back, Makarov followed, “I don’t understand. Aren’t you going to-?”

“Kill you?” Makarov tilted his head at him, his lips slowly stretching into a grin, “Oh, Insect, you still don’t quite understand what you mean to me, do you?” Makarov stepped closer, Roach froze in his place. The man reached out cautiously, pulling the makeshift knife from his belt and throwing it away, his scarf still attached. He pulled the actual knife next, holding it up for Roach to see, “You’re coming with me. So we need that tracker gone.” He tilted his head, “And either you can cut it out yourself, or I can knock you out and cut it out myself.”

Roach stared at the man, wide-eyed, his hands were shaking again. He hated it. He hated this. He couldn’t understand why he could never fight back against the man, “You’ll kill me,” he offered weakly, “You’ll kill me when this is all over.”

Makarov shook his head, “I won’t. There will be a punishment, naturally, but you will live.”

Roach shook his head, “No,” he took another step back, Makarov dropped the knife and grabbed his wrist, pressing the gun into his abdomen, right over his stab wound. He winced at the pressure. “I killed Dr. Petrov,” he offered. He would rather die than go with the man in front of him.

He saw a small pass of something sour on the other man’s face, a bit of love that he perhaps held for his uncle shining through. It faded rather quickly, “I don’t care. Pick up the knife.”

He released Roach’s wrist, taking a step back, that smug look back on his face. Roach wanted to cry and scream. He wasn’t going with Makarov again. He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. He would rather die. He would die.

He didn’t bother with the knife, didn’t even try for it. Instead, he moved forward, taking one quick step up and knocking the gun to the side. He supposed it was the absolute stupidity of his movement that managed to keep him from getting shot. Either way, he was able to slam his fist into the side of Makarov’s face before the other man could react.

The gun fell from Makarov’s hand at the impact, his form stumbling back a bit. Roach dropped for the gun, trying to grab it before the other man recovered. His hands only managed to get a slight grasp on it before he was met with a foot swinging up to slam into his face. He fell back against the grass of the airfield. Makarov kicked the gun away.

Roach blindly grasped out to the side of him as Makarov came to straddle his legs. His hands managed to grab onto the knife, swinging it up at the man in front of him. He managed to catch him in the shoulder with the knife, a grunt of pain leaving Makarov’s mouth as he slammed his fist against Roach’s chest, knocking the air from his lungs. There was a small cracking noise at the impact and soon Roach was gasping helplessly.

Makarov grit his teeth as he pulled the knife from his shoulder. He flipped the blade around in his hands, pressing it against Roach’s neck just enough to draw a bit of blood. He grinned at him, “Insect, knives are so impersonal.” His tone was scolding, “It’s so much more intimate to use your hands.” He tossed the knife away, lunging for his throat with his hands.

Roach reacted quickly slamming one of his hands up to catch against Makarov’s throat in a way that left the other man panting. He was able to use the momentary distraction to flip the man off of him and crawl on top instead.

His hands beat down madly, aimed solely at the face of the man in front of him. He managed to catch Makarov’s face a few times before he was able to bring his hands up to block him. Roach noted with sick glee the cracking noise that he heard when his fist had connected with Makarov’s nose. He’d no doubt broken it. A bit of payback, he distantly thought.

Suddenly, there was a hand in his hair, yanking him down so that his skull would connect with Makarov’s. He let out a groan, a dizzying feeling taking over his mind for a moment as he fell slightly off balance. Makarov clearly wasn’t as effected as he jerked up, slamming his head once again into Roach’s nose.

Roach was knocked back down to the ground, his head spinning as he distantly registered the fact that he was bleeding. Beside him, Makarov managed to shakily stand from the ground, his eyes coming to land on Roach’s sprawled out form. He stepped over him, a hum leaving his lips as he leaned down with a grin.

Roach knew what he was going to do before the hand was even at his side. It didn’t stop him from screaming out as the stitches at his side were, once again, violently ripped open. Tears spilled from his eyes as, a second later, Makarov’s other hand found the gunshot wound on his thigh, his fingers digging in. Roach screamed. Makarov gave a joyful laugh.

“Did, Dr. Petrov do this, Insect? It is good you killed him then,” his fingers curled into the torn flesh, digging harder, “I am the only one allowed to hurt you.” His words were growled out as Roach’s vision nearly went white with the pain. Suddenly, the fingers were gone, Makarov stood taller again. Roach gasped out from the pain, choked sobs wrecking his system. He felt like he couldn’t function in the slightest, but, through his tears, he was able to look up at the man above him. “You look so perfect when you cry, Insect.” Makarov reached down, catching one of Roach’s tears with his fingers.

Roach managed to push himself up to his knees, a feat considering his body felt like it was on fire, “Just fucking kill me!” He shouted between his sobs, “Kill me!”

Makarov gave a laugh in response, “Oh, not a chance, dear.” There was a hand in Roach’s hair again, gripping tight. Roach let out another scream as he was dragged forward, his feet kicking out behind him as the painful sensation of hair being tugged and feeling as though it was ripping from his scalp came through his body.

After a few moments he was dropped to the ground again, his body hunched forward as he tried to fight the waves of black that took him over. He only had a moment of peace before Makarov was pulling him back up from the ground and capturing his wrist, the one with the tracker in it.

Roach didn’t realize what was going on until he felt the knife carefully dig into the skin of his wrist. He couldn’t even bother to scream again as blood spilled over his wrist. Despite his wild movements to try to get away, Makarov’s movements remained smooth as he cut away a little piece of Roach’s skin, digging in slightly with the knife before extracting a small black object. “There we are,” He hummed, tossing the knife off to the side again.

He dropped Roach back to the ground. Roach still felt tears falling from his eyes. His body felt weak and pain lit up nearly every part of him. As Makarov stood, dusting himself off, Roach started weakly crawling away, trying desperately to get as far from the man behind him as he could. He was stopped with a scoff and a rough kick to his side that knocked him onto his back.

“Now, now, that’s not the way that we’re going.” Makarov came to a squat next to him, “Are you going to behave for me?”

Roach didn’t even think before responding, “Fuck you,” he spat a glob of blood and spit at the man’s feet.

Makarov gave a bit of a nod, amusement clear on his face as he stood back up, “You are very stubborn, you know. It seems it will take more than I suspected to clip your wings.” He placed one of his legs against the wound on Roach’s thigh, dragging it down harshly to hover over his knee, slight pressure being placed there. Roach was violently reminded of what the man had done in that church in Brazil. “Perhaps,” Makarov placed more pressure, Roach gave a gasp, “Perhaps a broken leg would do it?”

Roach waited, his breathing heavy, for the pain. It didn’t come. Instead, Makarov moved his foot back to the ground, “No,” he hummed and dropped back into a squat, “I am too kind for that.” His hand reached out to violently grab at Roach’s chin, “You will learn, Insect, I am a very,” his hand dragged down to his neck, “very forgiving man.”

Roach felt that familiar disgust pool in his stomach and rise in his throat. He jerked away from Makarov’s touch, once again trying to crawl away from the man. Makarov let him move a few feet, following behind him carefully before he dropped to his knee’s behind him, wrapping an arm around his middle and using it to haul Roach up so that his back was pressed tightly against his front.

A hand came up to his neck again, almost lovingly caressing the skin there. Roach struggled as much as his body would allow, he was quickly stopped with a hand under his shirt, dipping into his stab wound once again. He gave another cry as Makarov gave what was meant to be a soothing coo against his ear.

“I am going to help you sleep,” Makarov whispered into his ear, his other hand sliding just under the waistband of his pants to press against the bullet wound at his thigh, “You’ll travel easier that way,” he pulled Roach closer to him, “It will help satiate me until you are able to wake up. Then I’ll finish giving you your punishment.” His face nuzzled into his neck. Roach was certain he was going to puke.

The hands against his skin were gone within the next second and Roach was roughly shoved to the ground, his body flipped over so that he was resting on his back, staring at the sky. He noted distantly how pretty the clouds looked.

Makarov was on him in the next second, his hand grazing softly against his neck before they were pressing down painfully, cutting off his airway. Roach wanted to struggle, his mind begged him to struggle. He wouldn’t move though. It was like his body had given up, completely frozen with the knowledge that, despite tricking Makarov, despite everything he’d done, he was going to end up right back where he’d begun.

Tears continued slipping from his eyes as his vision slowly became filled with black dots. His mind was numb with the inability to think. His vision blacked out completely.

“That’s it,” Price’s voice was desperate as his eyes finally locked on to the airfield. He was out of breath, but he knew that he had to keep moving. Something was wrong with Roach, he’d been caught. His comms had gone dead. They had to keep moving. They had to get to him.

Beside him, Ghost gave a nod. They started moving forward again, their movement methodical as they worked together to head toward the large open field. They could see the smoke from the chopper crash, but they still couldn’t quite see the crash.

There was hardly any sort of forces there to stop them around the field, but they stayed vigilant, moving slowly around the large buildings that lined the path that they were on.

They stepped over piles of bodies, some their men, some Makarov’s. It didn’t matter, all that mattered was getting to Roach. Price, as he and Ghost moved past the last of the buildings, reached up and switched on his comms. He began a quick report to Soap and Gaz, “Lads, Ghost and I are nearing the airfield. Be aware-”

A loud, bloodcurdling scream cut him off. Both he and Ghost froze, their eyes shooting to one another as they recognized that the scream had come from the airfield. Price could see the look in Ghost’s eyes. They didn’t have to speak, they both knew. They both took off into a sprint, the comms forgotten as the voices of Soap and Gaz buzzed in their ears, asking for confirmation that they were alright.

Though they were close to the airfield, it still took them minutes of running before they were finally in a position where they could see what was going on. Price felt his heart drop to his stomach as he caught sight of Roach.

Makarov was on top of him, his hands pressed tightly against his neck. There was a wild grin on the terrorist's face as he choked Roach out. Price noted with growing fear and anger all of the blood that was coating Roach. He didn’t think of anything other than helping Roach when he pulled the gun from his side.

He took aim, instinct taking over. He pulled the trigger. Blood splattered from Makarov’s neck.

Suddenly, there was air. His chest jerked with the flow of it into his lungs, his face covered with blood splatter that wasn’t his own. He didn’t even register that he was pushing a groaning body off of his own, his body was finally motivated to move as he took in gasping breaths.

He scrambled backward, as far away as he could get from Makarov’s groaning body. He needed to go. He needed to get away before Makarov got back up. He had to move. He had to move. He had to move.

There were hands on his shoulders. He screamed, trying to fight the person off. It wasn’t until he heard the voice that his body finally stopped, relaxing against the hands that pressed warmly against his skin, “Roach, Roach! It’s me, calm down, Bug, calm.”

Roach looked up, his eyes catching onto the white of Ghost’s skull mask before finally meeting his eyes. He knew, based on the way that Ghost was looking at him, that he probably looked like shit. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about the pain either, not when he could finally throw his body against Ghosts with a sob.

There were warm hands rubbing against his arms, he buried his face into Ghost’s chest. “Breathe, Bug,” Roach managed to catch around his wracked-out sobs.

“How is he?” Roach could hear Captain Price ask over Ghost’s shoulder.

“I’m alive,” Roach managed to sob out, “I’m fucking…I fucking made it.” He wanted to scream. He wanted to cheer. He felt like he could soar at that moment. A thought struck him, “Soap? Where’s Soap?” He pulled away from Ghost’s chest to look up at him pleadingly.

“He’s fine, Bug.”

“And Gaz?” He asked, his eyes darting between Captain Price and Ghost, “Fuck, tell me he doesn’t still want me dead?”

“None of us want you dead,” Ghost responded.

“Him, however,” Price added, his face turning harsh as he turned back to look at the gasping figure of Makarov on the ground. He approached him slowly, Roach motioned for Ghost to help him up.

In another moment, Roach was hobbling over, likely held up mostly by Ghost’s strength, all so that he could stand over Makarov. He admired the red that poured from the man’s shoulder, right at the beginning of his neck. It was a satisfying sight to go with the blood on his face and the stab wound Roach had given him at his shoulder.

Makarov was choking slightly, but he still managed to grin and laugh up at the men over him, “Captain Price,” he managed to get out, “I should have expected nothing less.”

“This is the end for you, Makarov,” Price pulled a sidearm from his belt, pointing it at the man, “You’re going to die by my hand,” the “again” went unsaid.

Makarov laughed again, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He gave Roach a bloody grin. Roach knew what he was going to say, “Kill him,” Roach muttered to Price, his words desperate.

“Yes,” Makarov agreed. “Kill me, Captain. I’ll ring in the new world with Sergeant Sanderson.”

“Kill him,” Roach repeated, louder this time.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Price’s grip on his weapon shifted slightly, his eyes shooting to Roach’s with concern.

“He’s talking bullshit again,” Roach growled out, “Kill him!”

Makarov laughed again, “Your Bug seems ready to die.”

It was Ghost that moved forward, his foot slamming against Makarov’s face with a sickening crack that knocked the man back down, “You don’t fucking call him that.”

“Roach, what the fuck is he talking about?” Price asked again, his voice more desperate.

“It doesn’t matter,” Roach was near hysterical at this point, “Just kill him! Please!”

“If I die, he dies,” Makarov taunted, his body racked with laughter again. He held up his wrist, his little metal band shining in the sun, “Check him, Captain.”

Roach’s wrist was seized by Ghost and, before he could even think to pull away, both Ghost and Price had seen the little metal bracelet around his wrist. “What the fuck is that,” Price growled out, his eyes turning wildly back to Makarov.

“Poison,” Makarov sneered, “Kill me, he dies.”

“Fuck,” Price shouted out.

“Just kill him,” Roach begged, “He’s bluffing, he has to be bluffing.”

“I’m not taking any chances,” Price began pacing, “I’m not taking the chance of you dying Roach.”

“Please,” Roach felt hysterical. Makarov couldn’t live. He couldn’t leave this field alive. If he did, he would find some way to come back, Roach just knew it. He had to die.

“Listen,” Price offered, his voice dropping into something soft. “We’ll take him with us, as soon as that thing comes off of your wrist, we’ll end this.”

Roach shook his head. He knew it was a lie. “No,” he choked out, “No, no, if we bring him with us they won’t let you kill him! He’ll go to jail.” He could hear Makarov laughing still. The sound rang in his ears. He felt anger bubbling up in his system. Everything he’d done? Everything he’d been through? And Makarov was going to win, because, what? Roach would die?

“Listen,” Price met his eyes carefully, “I’m not arguing about this, Roach. You’re more important.”

“He’s right, Bug,” Ghost agreed, his hand pressed against the small of Roach’s back. “Why don’t you just sit down okay? We can wait for the medics to get here. You can watch him get taken away.”

Roach looked between the two men. He could see they wouldn’t budge. He wasn’t going to either. A sense of calm washed over him. He stood up taller. “Okay,” he muttered to Ghost.

“Okay?” The man asked.

Roach gave a short nod, “Okay,” he kept his voice soft, he kept his eyes down. They would know if they saw his face.

“Alright,” Ghost’s voice was equally as soft, his hand gently pushing to guide Roach, “C’mon, Bug.”

Roach let himself be guided for only a moment. He let the silence hang. He let that anger burn through his system quietly. He felt that avalanche slowly bury him. He felt that familiar calm fully set in. He remembered. He took in a breath. He moved.

“Roach!” Price leaped forward, trying to stop him as he swiftly pulled the gun from Ghost’s holster. Price was too slow. Roach knew that. Price knew that. Ghost knew that. Roach was too quick for anyone to stop him as he aimed at the man on the ground, a single shot fired that buried itself into the man’s skull.

Makarov fell back against the ground, dead. Roach dropped the gun to the ground, his body followed a second after.

Prev: Part 16

Next: Part 18 - Coming Soon

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redcatmusings · 1 year

Note

Hello! For the character ask, I'd like to ask you about Lin Beinfong 😁

That's a dangerous ask, be prepared to read all the lovely Lin rambles.

1: sexuality headcanon

Given that canon wise she dated Tenzin, I feel Lin is at least bisexual. I prefer her paired with women in my own biased skewed view. She strikes me as someone who is less concerned with the parts and more about the smarts.

2. OTP

I liked the OTP happiness with Lin, but lately, I've been branching out to some different pairing ideas that have led to some explosive, emotional and beautiful love poems. Lin doesn't NEED anyone, so what would it look like if she chose someone.

Lin x Kya - My original go-to pairing. Mostly due to being close in age, and I liked the polar opposite factor of these two outwardly. The idea that, if they could find common ground and a way to work out their differences with communication, then each provides the pairing with their own traits that balance one another out. Kya's "water off a ducks back" laid-back attitude serves to either infuriate or teach Lin that some things are okay to let slide and to just "live in the moment." Likewise, Lin's more grounded personality could help keep them on track and avoid undesirable consequences (we can't always live on the edge of our seats) but might become tedious for Kya.

Lin x Kuvira - This is probably my OTP for Lin currently. I feel like the age gap adds elements to a relationship that those closer in age do not get. Lin has wisdom, experience and patience on her side. Kuvira has youthful exuberance, new perspectives and a connection to current developments. In this pairing, Kuvira can help keep the stubborn Lin abreast of newer more efficient ways of life, reconnect Lin with shelved hobbies/dreams and challenge out of date beliefs. Both women share a level of maturity, past trauma that with the right partner, can be explored and healed through time and of course a steady personality. Challenges to this pairing would be stubbornness, uncompromising or shame from society's views on large age gaps between partners.

Lin x Korra - So similar to the Kuvira situation with a few exceptions and a lesser feeling of connect. I think Korra would add a very playful, adventurous, and tender aspect to the relationship. Having her own trauma to work through, I think she could provide a safe haven for Lin in their relationship to work through her own skeletons in the closet. There would probably be a lot of fluff in this relationship because of how playful Korra can be. As Avatar, she embodies a lot of the other elements and can pretty wild and free-spirited; perhaps too much for Lin. The disconnect and challenges would be both can be uncompromisingly stubborn and explosive. Korra's outward bursts would put Lin on the defensive and shut down any chance of negotiation. Lin might be too grounded for Korra, even if they could kick it off.

3: brotp

Mako. He's definitely her protégé and shows similarities with her work ethic. I think ultimately she can count on Mako and probably does some lowkey venting with him around.

4: notp

Hmmm I don't have a strong feeling here. Probably not any of the young guys? I don't see Lin as a cougar and I think anyone younger is probably the pursuer in their relationship.

5: first headcanon that pops into my head

Lin started the coffee, then headed to the cupboard to grab a mug. Inside was a metal rose in each of the mugs, with a note tucked between two of them. "This way, whatever one you choose, you'll be thinking of me" the note said in neat cursive writing. Lin smiled and relieved the cupboard of a simple green mug with its own personal metal rose.Kuvira was right, Lin would be thinking of her all day now.

6: favorite line from this character

7: one way in which I relate to this character

See above quote. I spent most of my life trying to make a parent love me through doing what I thought they wanted. Like Lin says, it doesn't work and don't make the same mistake!

8: thing that gives me second hand embarrassment about this character

The way she talks about how she took her anger out on Air Nation Island. Lin you are too proud of that.

9: cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

Misunderstood Melon for sure.

#headcanon #lok #the legend of korra #lin beifong #legend of korra #tumblr asks

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hermitsmirror · 5 months

Text

Deck interview: Bee Tarot

With the arrival of spring, it seemed fitting to bring a deck interview for the Bee Tarot into being (bee-ing, har har). The Bee Tarot, illustrated by Nadia Turner with a thick guidebook by Kristoffer Hughes, is one of the new decks being published by Llewellyn Worldwide, my own publisher for the Seaborn Kipper, and I asked if I could have a copy of it when I saw it. In exchange, I would show it off. So to be transparent, this is a ”review copy” of the deck, but it wasn’t foisted upon me, and this is a deck interview, not a full review per se (but if you have questions about it, let me know or read more about it on Llewellyn’s site—one of the surprising features is that it’s a linen texture). I just thought it looked fun and appropriate to my own interest in the intersection of nature magic and divination. I also just really like the idea of apiaries (Robbing the Bees: A Biography of Honey by Holley Bishop is one of the few nonfiction books I would consider reading a second time) and the concept of bees for spiritual work and community.

As it happens, the deck has a tie to Druidic traditions, which may or may not be important to readers. I’m certainly not well-versed enough in that tradition to know how successfully or meaningfully it brings in the Druid element, although I did have the good fortune to interview a prominent Druid author when I was in college (decades ago now), so I probably should know more than I remember.

But to get back to the Bee Tarot, I love how this deck interview builds off of my deck interview with the Apothecary Spirits Oracle and continues the story of reconnecting with a love for life and community, more or less starting with a journey of just being present. It really has me thinking about the Elder Futhark rune wunjo and that concept of joy that could only be found through harmonious community engagement, even as recently as a few centuries ago. You wouldn’t survive if you tried to do it all alone. Why should we not lean into that reminder of communal joy now?

As always now, I used my own deck interview spread, which you can find explained on my blog.

What major lesson are you here to help me learn? 3 of Jars

Through which divine energy can we best communicate? 6 of Wands (reversed)

In what area can you aid me to help others? Queen of Swords (reversed)

In what area could your guidance be easily misunderstood? 10 of Wands

What can I do to keep our communication clear? Queen of Jars

How can I use your guidance for the highest good? 5 of Swords (reversed)

How will I know when we’re ready for a new lesson? 6 of Pentacles

I’ll get to the first card in a minute, but I want to discuss the second card first because the reversed 6 of Wands in that second position takes on a different meaning than I would normally consider for it. In the context of the rest of the spread, the reversed 6 feels like a stark reminder of the importance of humility in spiritual work, especially with the community-oriented and interdependent concepts behind the deck. If nothing else, bees are part of a collective. Yes, there’s a queen bee, and there are distinct roles within the dance of the actual living, breathing bees, but the archetype of the bee is one of community orientation and soul work in line with serving one’s role in a bigger picture, not serving your own whims. That feels important here with the reversed 6 of Wands. I would normally associate that reversal with arrogance or pride—and yes, that’s still relevant—but in answer to the second question, it feels softer. It feels less like chastisement and more like a reminder to let oneself recede into the background. It’s a softer energy in this position of divine energy. Surrender and celebrate alongside in humility, rather than being the central heroic figure.

This of course relates to the lesson that this deck is helping me work through, the fun and celebration that comes with a close community of likeminded souls. The 3 of Jars (Cups) is that quintessential celebratory card, but as I mentioned in the office hours for my spring semester of courses not too long ago, it’s distinct from the 6 of Wands or 4 of Wands in that the celebration is through water instead of fire, a merging and blending of hearts, an expansion of the emotions and of meaningful connections. It’s a softer form of fun. Perhaps the idea of “softer” is what the bees of the Bee Tarot are offering more broadly. Honey is amelioration (and amelioration is literally the adding of honey, the sweetening of things).

This connection ties in with the 5 of Swords in reverse, a laying down of weapons (or arguments) and the blunting of the too-sharp swords. And of course it all fits beautifully with that generous spirit of interdependence and care for the collective seen in the 6 of Pentacles, the final card of the spread.

The Queen of Jars (Cups) also lends a soothing element in the fifth position to the overworking sting of the 10 of Wands. The 10 is such a burnt out card for the busy bee, hot and tired, in need of a little water and rest. That combination of the fourth and fifth cards is a nice reminder that one’s collective soul work, at least as explored with this deck, may be work, but it’s not burdensome. Returning to that first card, the 3 of Jars, it’s important that it’s not the 3 of Pentacles or Wands, cards of communal work and effortful building. If I find myself coming to this deck for tasks (for me or others), the Queen sits ready to redirect you toward the bigger picture. In her role as clarifier to the 10 of Wands, she offers the soothing and supportive effects of seeing easier flow and finding one’s place. Don’t try so hard. There is no spiritual grind, just ego pushing a path forward, wreaking havoc with the tapestry. Sure, you can do that sometimes, but why? Surrender and find that sweet nectar of life in whatever it is you do.

Sometimes readings can feel too coherent, as if the reader has forced redundancy into the cards, but that blending and layering of sticky meanings again seems right for the Bee Tarot. And it’s not quite a seamless match of hexagonal compartments.

The Queen of Swords in reverse poses an odd problem here. How is she helping me understand how I might be helping others? I’ve learned from a couple years teaching Awaken the Court Cards that the Queen of Swords can be much more accommodating than people assume. Students who embody the Queen of Swords (Water of Air) recognize the flow more often attributed to the Queen of Cups, but it’s funneled or honed like a sword’s point or edge. It’s there, but it’s focused. In this third position, the Queen of Swords in reverse seems to hint at the Queen of Jars in the fifth: she’s inviting me to work with those who have felt the pull or the currents of their soul—a calling, as it were—but who haven’t figured out how to refine that and focus that into something specific.

Combined with the warning to not overwork things in the 10 of Wands, it seems like an invitation to those who find themselves in the problem of the embodied soul who knows what they’re supposed to do “for the collective” in some way, but perhaps they’ve overworked it and limited soul work to spiritual industry work. That’s an important and thankfully growing population—I say “thankfully” because more people are recognizing the importance of doing meaningful soul work. There is pain in trying to force soul work into the limitations of spiritual industry work given our current economic environment. We can all be doing soul-centered things without being full-time energy healers or overworked tarot readers. Teach, volunteer, celebrate, and love as you do whatever you do. Bring spirit and nature and harmony into your world in whatever way you can, small or large. That’s the dream of a mindful and soul-centered collective.

And that helps me better understand the role of the reversed 5 of Swords in the sixth spot: we don’t all need to be competing with each other all the time. Yes, there are market forces that incentivize that. But why can’t we work in collaboration and mutual support? That journey awaits me still, I think, as promised by the 6 of Pentacles. But I suspect that it will find me sooner than later. Here’s hoping!

The Bee Tarot by Kristoffer Hughes and Nadia Turner is published by Llewellyn Worldwide, who publishes one of my one decks. The deck provided here was a gift from my publicist, but these insights about and experiences with the deck are my own.

#tarot #tarotblr #witchblr #tarot reading #tarot spread #bee tarot #druid #druidry

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shinygoku · 1 year

Text

CutCat’s ATLA Takes

Here I am, jotting them down before doing a series rewatch. This is gonna be a bit disorganised, so beware!

---

First I guess I oughta put a quick disclaimer in that Zuko is one’a my biggest Blorbos, comparible with Son Goku! ...so like, you may notice me focusing more on him than other characters or topics or whatever lol

Also I am Not interested in the Comics or Korra series...s. The former for writing that is plain ass bad, and the latter for changing so much of the setting (not for better) and uhm, also less than good writing. If I want bad takes on Communism and Anarchy I can just go look at Twitter or some rubbish. Also I know Kyoshi novels exist. I’m just talking about the OG show, even if select pinpoints of the subsidiary installments have good moments.

This got PRETTY LONG and ain’t particularly coherent, so I’ll put a Cut in here ;3

Overall Show:

Not gonna lie, some’a the Book 1 eps get pretty throughly memoryholed, even what happens in the first two! They ain’t bad, but it does take The Storm for the series to really hit its stride with the delish Backstories.

Following that solid W of an ep is The Blue Spirit, and this is actually one of the best in the entire show. Seems they initially wrote it like it was a season finale to get more eps approved, and it worked! lol

I dig that all the characters get some character focus and growth even early on

...I’m mixed on my stance on Aang’s crush on Katara. If it was a one sided thing that started off quite strong and then de-intensified over the series, I’d find it very cute and endearing. But that sure ain’t the course they took lol, but I guess I’ll sum my thoughts on shipping in its own section later.

The real highlights of S1 are in The Storm, The Blue Spirit, The Northern Water Tribe and the Siege of the North 2-parter. All these have a lot of Zuko, fancy that XD

Also I like how early it’s set up how Built Different he is, especially them last three eps. Dude gets blown up, swim through long underwater tunnels in freezing water, barely wins a fight, treks out into the arctic, gets 1-shot in a fight, and THEN starts another fight, this time with Zhao. His only true weakness really is his mental state and lack of planning, innit!

Book 2 overall kinda bothers me. Objectively it has some of the strongest points, but so much of it feels like it’s dark and dingy or really damn slow to get moving.

Strongest points are of course Toph’s entire existence, the zigzags of Zuko’s arc, and Azula’s anatagonistic omnipresence

The rest of it, myeah... while it’s more focused on a through line plot, it feels a bit monotone until The Library and eventually The Guru and Crossroads

Zuko Alone might be the GOAT episode. It’s not my favourite but DAMN it is firing on all cylinders!!!

I also like Bitter Work a lot. Gotta eat up more Parallels Episodes, babes!

The “Brainwashing” / Sleeper Agents thing feels OP. I get ya need an antagonistic force different to the Fire Nation but myeahhh... not convincing me

But yeah, then there’s Zuko’s continued character thread with the Angst Coma and the dreams and then the REALLY WEIRD turn of him being all smiley and optimistic. It always felt really fake and non-Zuko-esque to me, but I can ‘get’ that given he’s trying hard to shift gears from the status quo of before, overcompensating in the process. What’s odder still is that Iroh doesn’t seem to question it...

Like, sure, he wants to settle down and Tea Shop it up, but even if he could get Zuko to stop pining for the position in the Royal Family, does he honestly believe a day of fever dreams will have had such a profound effect last longer than a few days of re-settling? Zuko’s actions feel like someone having decided to turn their entire life around starting tomorrow and then swiftly burning out as change is a slow and gradual process in reality, and shouldn’t be forced.

So what I think is going on is Iroh himself having become blinded by what he wants, rather than a more realistic outcome. And that could be fab gear writing! A reminder that Iroh too is not immune to bias and oversights, and is indeed a human who sometimes Dun Goofs. If it is what’s intended rather than lazier writing lol

Also yeah, Zuko’s almost- side switching, I’ll save that for later ;3

Book 3 is both a high point but again there’s some episodes that are pretty lame or have less to offer, but I feel more forgiving of this one as sooo much juicy Plot stuff actually unfolds~

Again it takes the Main Plot stepping up for the quality to rise with the Day of Black Sun, and then the episodes after all feature the long-awaited Redeemed Zuko, and those times ae Gooooooood

The stupidest moment I have to complain about though, in the DoBS, is when Azula “proves” she’s an expert liar by... saying she’s a giant purple bear thing? That’s not lying, it’s absurdism, and it’s incredibly easy to say dumb shit like that without any “lying tells” that polygraphs or Toph look for (keep in mind that irl Polygraphs actually suck, they’re a Stress detector but lying doesn’t always stress liars out... LIKE AZULA, but even the biggest ball of anxiety could say “Yeah I’m Barney the Dinosaur” without triggering anything. GRAAAAAGH)

Back on track, my only complaint with Zuko joining so late is that I want mooooore, all the eps with the ‘field trips’ are such fun AND such Character Building

Ember Island Players was a great ep, though I don’t need to see the closing scene used to draw comparisons to the live action movie any more. It’s been like 500 times.

I DON’T THINK AANG SHOULD HAVE KILLED OZAI

That would be proving Ozai’s point that Might makes Right, which of course is WRONG

The show has been leading up to non-lethal ethos

Taking Ozai’s bending is a good out.

BUT. Holy shit they fumbled the ball bad

Energybending has ZERO build up or allusions even when there were chances to sneak it in, like The Library or The Guru

Commenting on a picture of a Lion Turtle and having Lion Turtle background sculptures DOESN’T CUT IT

Because that is ALL we get!!

At least have the Lion Turtle picture say “They’re so ancient they’re rumoured to pre-date Bending” or something to hook interest in

And the Guru coulda been a great way to drop the 5th Element lore in

But they waste all chances they had to set it up despite claiming they knew from the beginning that there would be a peaceful out

The Rock unblocking Aang’s chakra is also pretty bad, but I’m more inclined to forgive a moment of luck if the Energybending wasn’t so bogus

But it could be improved if Aang like, deliberately earthbent the Rock and then used it as acupressure

Both the Energybending and Convenient Rock make Aang’s victory feel less earned, which is a huge shame as we’ve seen him actually try soooo much. But alas, that last hurdle and they resort to lazy ass writing

The lst Agni Kai rules though. It’s beautiful and tragic, showing how much Zuko has grown and Azula fell. And Katara’s finishing the fight so effectively is bodacious and actually feels really smart~

WHERE IS IROH AT THE CORONATION??!?!

The end is a cute scene that is then strangled by the Red String lol, but damn, what a cool ass show

Characters:

Aang: He’s a cute protagonist, I’ve always liked the Cheerful and Highly Powerful archetype (cough cough Son Goku), though Aang is also heavily defined by his childishness, both a strength and a flaw. As much as I enjoy him, unfortunately I think he got a bit of the short end of the stick writing-wise, he can feel a bit Flat and, worse, like Bryke’s Pet. They lean too hard on letting him get what he wants, and we miss out of the development that coulda followed if the story didn’t twist itself to give him outs. Not unlocking his Chakras properly for selfish reasons should be punished. Finding an alternative to Murder should have had him Proactive. Not getting the Girl would have been a lot more realistic...! See the Shipping section for the latter...

Zuko: Holy rigatoni, man. Zuko is the bar by which Enemies to Friends, Redemption Arcs, Anti-Villains AND Anti-Heroes are all measured. His character has so much incredible nuance!! And yeah, maybe I too am weak to the dark and handsome and yet dorky type’a fella ;3c - I’m in the kinda situation right now where I find it hard to actually phrase everything I dig about him, but that’s from having too many thoughts and they all get crammed in the doorway between my brain and ability to type lmaooo

Katara: This girl is another high water mark (pun unintended) for how to Female Character. She’s the designated Mom of the team, but she ain’t defined by it, also being one’a the most capable fighters, having a hot temper and even a mean streak. It would really suck if she had just been written primarily to Love Interest (as the early drafts seem to imply...), but in the show, she has her own agency and goals that compliment the main quest, and she manages to be both a stable grounding force while having plenty of growth of her own.

Sokka: Again, I really wonder how it woulda turned out if the original plan had been followed; in Sokka’s case he was s’pposed to be the serious, stiffer contrast to Zany Playful Aang and Wide-Eyed Idealist Katara. But his VA is very naturally Funny, and so Sokka as we know him is a bodacious blend of Wacky yet also Level Headed. It’s an odd blend and many have tried and failed to replicate this delicate balance, but Sokka does indeed feel like a real person who seamlessly switches between being the group’s eccentric and also the one making all the plans.

Toph: ANOTHER amazing W for Girl Characters, Toph is such a delight and welcome shaking-up of the existing dynamics. She’s pretty consistently one of the most amusing and Real of the crew, while hilariously OP without it feeling cheap. It’s so weird to think she wasn’t in Book 1 at all, cause once she joins you sure as hell can’t imagine her being absent.

Iroh: Everybody loves this dude, and they’re right! What can I say about him that ain’t already been covered?? Maybe just that I do like that, as wise and benevolent as he is, there are still times where he’s allowed to be wrong or short sighted (see: my previous ramblings about Zuko’s very-un-Zuko behaviour), cause it allows him to feel more Real, and Human. That he’s speaking from experience and not from reading the script. That’s dope, man.

Azula: This is hard... I feel Azula is a massively polarising character, many people enjoy her but there’s too many people who either want to pretend she didn’t do horrible things, too many people who forget she’s also a victim, AND too many people who are just blindly like ‘woo, yeah! What a #Girlboss! Azula’s so cool and automatically wins at whatever”. Like, she’s one of the more nuanced characters but the surface level is indeed of hyper competence, it’s what’s below that veneer which is interesting. I kinda feel like more people oughta talk about the moment where she looks pleased, almost triumphant at Zuko being maimed...

And the rest: Oh god, I can’t talk about every semi-developed character as there’s a lot. Sorry Suki. You’re cool too! But most characters who appear in more that one episode see to be written pretty good, again, like People, rather than just plot devices in human skin. I like that.

...

Shipping:

lol. I think the BEST route would have been to not ‘canonise’ any ships of the ragtag group of kids and teenagers. Alas, we don’t live in that timeline and have dumb ass wars over it. Anyway, here’s my hot take:

Kaatang, while foreshadowed early on from Aang’s side, is a really lame route as Katara seems to have to loose her actual personality for it to work. Also, it jars with Aang’s role as both Avatar (while they’re allowed to Get Freaky, he was s’posed to be able to detach from Earthly attachments to gain the Avatar Powers), and as a totally-not-Buddist Monk, who are NOT allowed to get bizzay. So Aang too loses insteresting notions of Duty and being able to Mature cause he just gets what he wants without having to try. Lame.

Katara doesn’t have many moments where she even looks at Aang as something other than a Friend / Little Brother / Son?? type figure, there’s only brief moments where there is potential moments from her side, and they are far between and seldom deeper than her chemistry with the likes of Jet and Haru. The most I can speak for is the Day of Black Sun, where she’s taken aback by Aang planting one on her, but when he directly and Un-Classy-ly brings it back up in the Ember Island Players, she is quite rightly reserved and when he kisses her again without warning she’s angry! And that’s never resolved!! They just Mandatory Ship them together in the end because Bryke are biased and soooo intent of having their ship even though the writing hasn’t sufficiently built up to it. I don’t dig this, baby!

Maiko is also badly written and the comics make Mai unlikable. [slow sarcastic clapping]

So the ships I do like are:

Zutura - THEMATIC PERFECTION and not because of the red and blue, fire and water juxtaposition, but because Katara and Zuko are fundamentally so similar but coming from opposite sides and thus approaches. Both so kind at their cores but quick to anger or do something stupid on impulse, both so affected by the loss of their mothers and family-motivated. The fake out in Crossroads introduces a fascinating extra crease to their interactions that lasts, and the finale?? HELLO?!?! That’s legit one’a the most compelling Ship Fuel moments ever, baybeee! Other serieses would knaw off their own leg for material that rich!

Also yes, the red/blue, sun/moon, fire/water, and that they are pretty together lol. But still, there’s more in how they are a fantastic combo when on the same side, and also the meta reality that several writers and their own Voice Actors ship it. And they’re right to!

Zukka - The new darling of the fandom and while it doesn’t have as much going for it, I can see it. At it’s worst it feels like people desperately trying to rationalise the red/blue guys from Failtron Legendary Idiot Space Show, but when people who actually care about the characters here in ATLA and draw on their parallels and interactions I find myself enjoying it. Zuko goes well with the Water siblings I guess haha

Sukka - I don’t have much to say, I just like it lol

Also in the past I liked Zukaang but now I wanna redefine it as them being allowed to be Buddies and close friends and teammates, like what the Blue Spirit ep teased at but then didn’t really follow up on outside The Firebending Masters. I want more!! MOOOOORE!!!

...

But man this post is obnoxious and long enough already lol, thanks if ya endured it all~

#I don't think I'll be tagging this for the fandom to stumble across lol #Pre-Rewatch scrawlings

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suremarkj · 2 years

Photo

i. “the dead can’t testify” - billy talent // ii. friedrich nietzsche & aristotle // iii. “puritan dirt song” - envy on the coast

( DANIEL KALUUYA, CIS MAN, HE/HIM ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that MARK JENSEN is a thirty-six year old CONSPIRACY THEORIST that’s been in Chicago for TEN YEARS. According to the file, they’re a mutant on LEVEL THREE with the power of SNAKE MAGIC. That must be why they’re CHARMING and RECLUSIVE. If you ask me, they remind me of country roads turning into cityscapes, a cluttered apartment separated from a house on a hill, lies off the tip of a forked tongue. They are affiliated with THE DAMNED.

QUICK FACTS:

full name: mark thomas jensen

date of birth: april 18th, 1987

zodiac big three: aries sun, scorpio moon, taurus rising

gender & pronouns: cis man & he/him

sexual orientation: bisexual

ethnicity: black ( ugandan )

nationality: american

religion: atheist, raised hardcore christian (pentecostal)

languages spoken: english, some latin, some spanish

enneagram: 8w7

mbti: istj

temperament: choleric-phlegmatic

alignment: true neutral (mark) / neutral evil (snark)

ability: snake magic (snagic) (lmao at how outdated this graphic is)

affiliation: the damned

alias: leviathan

BACKSTORY:

triggers: murder (he’s the one that does it, though!), religious fuckery (the pentecostalist version!), briefly implied abuse

mark hasn’t diverged too much from the mark we once abhorred... except he’s a little less sinister when unprovoked. anyway, let’s get into it!

he was born in west virginia, his family very into the magic that was pentecostalism. they partook in every tradition in the book -- from healers to snake handling to drinking the snake venom. if you’ve seen it in a documentary, they partook in it.

that said, as far as they knew, there were no mutants in their midst. only folks who God’s spirit flowed through.

a stroke of luck for 10y/o mark who, after months of feeling like his ribs were breaking from the inside, found snakes burst forth from his chest during one of their ceremonies. the snakes were calm, peaceful -- perfect for handling. mark was officially a child sent from God.

it was a bit strange. he was worshiped, but he didn’t know why. the more he felt connected to whatever was blossoming in his chest, the less he felt connected to his Father.

however, 13y/o mark found his stroke of luck running out. instead of expelling the evil, he looked as though he was a part of it. in the middle of a ceremony, his eyes were locked with a snake’s, thinking about what it must be like... and, before he knew it, he had scales, slit pupils, a forked tongue with thin teeth, etc. etc. etc.

and a new soul possessed him -- one that caused him to strike at various members of the church. the copperheads all turned against the parishioners, as well, wounding many and even causing a few fatalities.

mark had no clue what happened, what had possessed him. one second, he was wondering if the snakes were okay; the next, he basically was one and had all but given the others free-will.

after that, he was not worshiped. he was feared by many, hated by even more. in the end, they drove him out of the community, afraid that they had been accepting a child of Satan into their lives the entire time.

from 14-17, he wandered, living off of the kindness of strangers and necessary thievery. but he began to realize... if he thought various things, they would, in some way, come to fruition.

at 18, he was taken in by a priest. empty promises were made in exchange for favors mark preferred not offering. but once mark finally found his footing? finally found a target audience in the priest’s church as he spewed falsehoods? this was a moment that required experimentation: he considered the cycle of life and death. when he touched the priest’s pulse point, the man collapsed. nothing was said.

from there on out, mark realized he possessed great power -- something that could manipulate the world as they knew it, something that could manipulate cycles -- and he knew what he could do with that and how gullible folks could be.

at twenty-five, he wound up in chicago for unknown reasons (adlhksjfad). he began using social media as a broadcast tool for his own agenda: mutant supremacy. general conspiracy videos and podcasts soon turned to mutant-specific. before he knew it, he had amassed a cult following and became an official ‘personality’ -- asked to do speeches, asked to go to cons, asked to be a guest star. overall, he was just as worshipped by his followers as he had been as a kid in hancock.

he joined the damned, intent on founding a world based off of mutant supremacy. after all the humans who had wronged him -- his family, his community, the priest -- everyone he had trusted, really -- what were they good for?

fin !

TIMELINE:

BORN -- hancock, wv. heavy pentecostal community with heavy pentecostal parents.

AGE 3- – began regularly attending pentecostal ceremonies with his family. faith healing, baptisms of fire, snake handling…

AGE 9 – felt an inexplicable connection to the serpents during the ceremonies. they were unhappy, to say the least. thought of it as just… a passing feeling, never said anything of it.

AGE 10 – after weeks, if not months, of feeling like something was trying to break his ribs from within, snakes burst forth from his chest during a ceremony.

AGE 10-12 – he was treated as a gift of sorts. the snakes, the evil, had expelled themselves from him and would never dare bite into him.

AGE 13 – out of his control, he transformed into a large version of a copperhead after staring at one and wondering how it felt. in addition, it was as though he gave them free-will for a second. they all struck -- many fatalities, many injuries.

AGE 13 – he was cast out of the church. the better portion of his family treated him with fear, the worse portion treated him with violence.

AGE 14 – he was all but exiled.

AGE 14-17 – he wandered around the states, breaking commandments to survive.

AGE 17 – he was taken in by a priest in new york city. the priest promised him careers unknown to him before if he would repay him with unspecified favors.

AGE 18 – the priest was, of course, a liar. but mark found, on his own, that the masses were greatly gullible. thus, to test a theory about cycles and subjective reality, he placed a hand on the priest’s pressure point and just thought of the cycle of life ending for the man. and the man didn’t wake up.

AGE 20- – began a career that was, essentially, televangelism under the guise of conspiracy theory videos.

AGE 23-PRESENT – turned his videos and podcasts into something much more overt in their mutant supremacy nature. he gained a cult following and became somewhat of a symbol.

AGE 25 – moved to chicago and joined the damned. took on the codename ‘leviathan.’

AGE 28 -- became an officer of the damned

HEADCANONS:

he’s no longer 6′5 because i don’t think daniel can pass as that :( he is 6′3, though... gotta keep him a little tall for The Bit™.

his power really has nothing to do with snakes! however, from a young age, he felt such a deep connection to the serpents that he often uses them in battle and/or becomes one. and, like snark, they all love him <3

um um um

CONNECTION IDEAS:

guest stars ! mutants willing to face possible scrutiny by coming on his videos/podcasts and showcasing their ability – the ‘miracles’ they can work.

folks who only know him as a conspiracy theorist ! idk it would just be funny to me if they knew his name, but didn’t know anything about the content of his sermons. ‘so you’re that conspiracy weirdo…’

be hot, do crime !

get that snick, laid ease and gentlemen !

again, i’m so tired <3 but most of y’all know mark...

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bobbyshaddoe80 · 2 years

Text

My Cancer Journey

By Robert L. Torres

This is a tough thing for me to speak about, which is why I always find writing to be a more therapeutic avenue for self expression.

In the Summer of 2022, I felt on top for the world, especially heading into the Fall. I had just finished a wonderful run with the cast of 'Beauty and the Beast' and had been cast in the lead role of Shakespeare's 'MacBeth'. Life was going great.

Then on August 31st, as I went to work suddenly I had excruciating pain in my left leg, I couldn't walk or stand on it. I couldn't work with my clients, nothing. I had no choice but to call my parents to take me to the hospital.

I had hoped that it was nothing serious, and I would be back home in a few days at most. Only it didn't turn out that way.

I'm hearing talk of cancer and amputation and I was terrified. Eventually I was transferred to Orlando Regional, where I ended up staying for two whole months, especially once they had no choice but to amputate my left leg to save my life.

I had been placed in a chemically induced coma on September 4th, and woke up ten days later surrounded by my family. That is when I learned of the amputation. That's when I knew my life would never be the same again. There was so much that had to be done, cuz the the main focus at that point was to get better and get back home to my life.

Over the next few weeks as I began my chemo treatments, I had to sacrifice my role in Shakespeare, clean out my savings account, surrender my vehicle, and shave my head.

By mid October I had been discharged back home in New Port Richey, where I have been staying with my parents as I finished off the final rounds of chemo therapy.

This journey has been a long and arduous one, not just for me, but for my family. The healing and strengthening of family ties has symbolized my body's own physical and spiritual healing. As I got to reconnect to family members I hadn't seen in years, it allowed me to get in touch with my own connection to God and be grateful each day as I worked towards becoming stronger and healthier.

Recently, after completing the four rounds of chemo, I had a PetScan done on my body to determine if the cancer cells were indeed dead, inactive and will continue to shrink.

My oncologist is confident the results will be in my favor, and I will find out very soon if that is indeed the case.

It will be a huge relief, cuz it means the long nightmare is finally over and I can move forward with getting my life back on track.

Being back home, utilizing a wheelchair as well as a walker has been... unusual to say the least, but also a necessity as I grow more and more accustomed to my body and be comfortable with my new circumstances. All in the effort to grow stronger in body, mind and spirit in preparation for the next aspect of my journey... obtaining prosthetic limb.

That in itself is a scary prospect, but a necessary one if I ever wish to get my life back on track, get back to MY home, obtain a new car, get back to work, get back on stage with my fellow community thespians,, and just get back to LIVING MY LIFE.

But this whole journey has made me appreciate what people go through when they themselves are struck down with cancer or have family members and friends dealing with cancer. One always wants to stay positive and hopeful, but the emotional toil it takes can be excruciating.

I am grateful and fortunate that my cancer was the curable kind, but I know many others aren't so fortunate.

It also showcases that we can't always predict what tomorrow will bring. We also cannot allow our fear of tomorrow paralyze us into inaction. All we can do is deal with what is going on in the here and now, and try our best to prepare for whatever life throws in our path, come what may.

Never allow yourself to fall into despair, for it is better to be the light that dispells the darkness, than allow the darkness to extinguish your light.

UPDATE: The results of the PetScan have revealed that the cancer cells are indeed dead and have shrunk even smaller than before, and are continuing to shrink. The news itself has even a great relief, as it means I can at last focus on getting my life back on track. The first steps towards that goal have already been set in motion, as I have scheduled to meet with a representative from a local prosthetics firm in order to hopefully get fitted for a prosthetic for a prosthetic leg. From there, it's a matter of getting back home, with a vehicle of my own and getting back to work and to my life.

#blog post #personal #cancer survivor

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impulsivewcrewrite · 4 days

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Chapter 7: The Mog

< Chapter 6 | ToC | Chapter 8 >

Rusty returned to camp carrying his prey. Somehow, Bloom had beat him to camp, and was sitting near the fresh-kill pile with Scarlet. The two were deep in conversation. As he added his prey to the pile, he listened in.

“-well, I can see your point,” Bloom said.

“It must be the will of StarColony,” Scarlet assured her.

Rusty heard Bloom’s tail lash. “We truly are in StarColony’s paws.”

“Then you’ll let me speak to him?”

“You can speak to him right now.”

Rusty paused and snuck a glance up at the two mollies. Both were staring at him. Ears burning with embarrassment, he began to babble an apology.

Before he could get a word out, Bloom held up her tail. “Rusty, Scarlet wants to speak with you. Good job hunting today, even when Pebbles came and distracted you. The rest of the day is yours.”

“Th-thank you Bloom,” he dipped his head. Then he looked at Scarlet. She carefully adjusted her turtle shell.

“Please follow me Rusty,” she stood up and led them both into the druid’s clearing.

As he pushed through the ferns, he took stock of the scene. The clearing was empty, not a single patient in sight. There were some yellow flowers laid out drying. What does she have to say to me here? Rusty wondered. So she didn’t need help with any wounded patients, what else could she possibly need him for? Had he done something wrong?

She took a seat atop a smooth rock, and removed her turtle shell hat. Placing it between them, she took a deep breath.

“Can you tell me about your dream?” she mewed quietly. “The dream you had the night Ruddy died?”

Suddenly the air grew cold around the pair. Rusty was hyper aware of each breath he took. He looked down at his paws, unable to meet her red eyes.

“Well… I started having this dream where I was in the woods, hunting. Then I would see this bright red light. And it wasn’t a light, like the sun, or a lamp, it was a cat. It was Ruddy, ‘cept I didn’t know it was him then. His tail was big and long and bright, like nothing I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was trying to speak,” Rusty started slowly, trying to explain everything. “And I had that dream like four times. But then on the night Ruddy died, I had the dream again, but there was no mouse. Ruddy was there again, but he had tear markings on his face, and his fur was all messed up, and there was a deep wound on his neck.”

Scarlet sharply inhaled. Her eyes glittered with hurt, and Rusty winced.

“No, no… continue please,” she looked away from him.

“Then he said something like “you gotta help me!” And when I woke up, I could still hear him. So I came here as fast as I could, but I was too late.”

The words hung in the air uncomfortably. Rusty looked around, anywhere but at Scarlet. Did she think he was responsible for Ruddy’s death? Was she going to blame him for not running fast enough? What if it was his fault? He chanced a glance up at her face, but she was looking away, also deep in thought. She looked conflicted.

Finally, she began to speak.

“Rusty… that’s a very unusual dream to have. Most cats’ dreams don’t mean anything, but I too had a dream like that,” Scarlet confessed. Her words were slow, and she seemed uncertain about sharing her thoughts. “I believe you have dreams blessed from StarColony.”

Excitement flashed through him. StarColony were the spirits of former Colony cats. They couldn’t be seen by any living cat, except for druids. Each star in the night sky represented one StarColony cat.

“In most cases, druids are the only cats who receive dreams from StarColony. You see, the job comes in two parts: firstly, healing and mending the living, and secondly, communing with StarColony. They send dreams, omens, and prophecies to us, and it is my job to interpret these.”

Rusty considered this. Dreams from StarColony? It would explain the supernatural feeling dreams. “Do I have to become a druid now?”

“Only if you want to,” Scarlet flicked her tail. “Bloom wanted me to give you that option. I don’t want to force you into a role you don’t want.”

“Then I’d like to stay as a warrior apprentice,” he said firmly. While he respected her position, he didn’t want to be a druid. He wanted to be a warrior, like Ruddy.

“OK! Thanks for listening,” she smiled. “See you around, Rusty.”

. . .

Free from tasks and having time to kill, Rusty decided to go back out and hunt for the nursery. He had stopped by the nursery since he’d heard Frost had her kits’ naming ceremonies done the day before, but had encountered Tiger speaking with Buttercup. The tom made no effort to disguise his anger upon seeing Rusty near him, so Rusty had quickly excused himself. Buttercup, Honeycomb’s sister, had at least said hi to Rusty before he left, and asked if he could bring her something to eat. So out he went.

Back in the forest, he headed back towards the stream. The sun had just passed noon, meaning everything in the forest was feeling the heat. Any prey would be searching for water to cool down with. He wondered if ShadowColony’s forest was cooler, since the ground seemed to absorb more water. Thinking back on his earlier encounter, he wondered about who those eyes had belonged to. Whoever that warrior had been, they seemed to have known Rusty. Could it have been one of the warriors he saw on that patrol with Tiger, Honeycomb, and Pebbles? Maybe it was Shatter, he thought with a shiver.

While he had heard of the other Colony cats talking with and even befriending cats from WindColony and RiverColony, it seemed no one had anything good to say about ShadowColony. Except maybe Willow. But even then, a ShadowColony patrol had ambushed Stag, Hornet, Sandy, and Snowstorm only a few days ago.

Sniffing the air, he was surprised by an unfamiliar scent. Someone was trespassing on the territory! And by his guess, they had infected wounds. It was a rotten smell. The warrior’s code forbade cats from hunting on Colony territory, but it also forbade hurting the injured. In Honeycomb’s words, true warriors protect those in need of protection, regardless of circumstance. Raising his nose once again, he tried to identify their location.

From behind him came a hiss. Spinning around, he spotted a huge dark shadow barreling towards him! The cat rammed into him, slamming into his side. With no time to react, Rusty thrashed helplessly. Landing back on the ground, he nipped at the closest bit of fur.

He threw his paws at the creature, digging in with his claws. To his surprise, the fur was covered in mats. It was like a turtle’s shell. Once more, the creature snatched Rusty up. Sharp jaws clamped around his neck. With ease, the cat lifted him off the ground. Then with a jerk, slammed him back against the forest floor.

Wheezing, Rusty helplessly rolled onto his side. The cat let out an amused purr. “Puny apprentice. You make easy prey for the Mog.”

Trying to catch his breath, Rusty pushed himself onto his feet. Now he could see his attacker. She was a massive gray molly. Her face was wrinkled with age, and she had one bright orange eye. The other was swollen shut, likely the source of the infected smell. Despite her injuries, she was obviously a skilled warrior at one point. Scars marked her pelt. Fresh blood dripped from her hind legs. Someone else had encountered the Mog, but she had escaped. Was she dangerous? Most likely. Could Rusty defeat her? Hopefully.

“You’re not exactly a prime hunter,” he challenged. “Go back to whatever bush you crawled out of and leave. This is ThunderColony’s territory!”

“Ooo, ThunderColony, I’m terrified,” she mocked. “If you’re the best they’ve got, I think I can hold my own.”

Anger fueled him. Moving into a defensive stance, he bore his fangs at her. “ThunderColony is a safe haven for queens, lost kits, and elders. Since you attacked me, I cannot bring you to camp for help. You need to leave now, before I get real warriors to chase you off.”

She laughed. “Do you really think I haven’t chased off real warriors before?” the Mog’s swollen eye cracked open to stare at Rusty.

“Leave now,” he growled. Like he had seen Tiger do before, he tried flexing his muscles. If he could channel the spirits of StarColony, he would. Knowing he had ThunderColony on his side gave him strength. Who did this molly have to help her? If she tried to fight back, she’d easily be defeated.

“Finish me off then. I know what you ThunderColony cats are like. Send Shatter my regards,” she lowered her neck and closed her eyes. “Go on. Aim for the soft part of my neck. Make it quick.”

“What? No, I’m not going to kill you!” he sputtered. Apprentices were not allowed to kill under any circumstances. “Also, hang on, you know Shatter? Did he do… that to you?”

Slowly, she opened her eyes. With a sigh, she nodded. On her hind legs were identical jagged wounds. Herbs and cobwebs were sporadically slathered on the injuries. This was no rogue, this was an exiled warrior with medical knowledge. So what caused her to be exiled?

“If I tell you, will you kill me?” she asked. “I was his druid, for Star Shadow’s sake. Now kill me like a warrior or leave me be.”

“No, I’m not going to kill you. Why are you in such a hurry to die?” Rusty stepped back.

“That’s for me to know. Are you going to do it or should I bite you again?”

While her words were harsh, it was obvious she was in pain. It was surprising she could even walk. She was pitiful, despite her rage. He considered the situation. Clearly, this was a former druid from ShadowColony. Based on her current state, it seemed she was chased by Shatter himself. But why? She could have valuable information. Or she could be highly dangerous. At the very least, he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight for long.

“Alright, the Mog, from what I’ve gathered, you’re an enemy of Shatter. And an enemy of my enemy is a friend. Or at least not an enemy,” Rusty was confusing himself. “Just… just stay here while I figure this out.”

Disappointed, she lay down on the ground. “Sure, take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Somewhat stunned, he sniffed the air for prey. Before he could do anything, she needed to eat. A hungry cat is an angry cat. Maybe some food would do her some good. Dropping into a crouch, he stalked forward. From its burrow, a young rabbit peeked out. Thankfully, the wind was blowing towards Rusty. The rabbit’s only hope would be to spot Rusty before it was too late.

Lashing out, Rusty stunned the rabbit with a single blow. With a bite, the rabbit was dead.

Carefully, he dragged it back into the small clearing with the Mog. She looked surprised, but didn’t complain. The molly turned on the rabbit. She tore into it like a starving dog. If he wasn’t so hungry, the sight of it would make him sick. He knew he shouldn’t even be thinking about eating. He still had to take back enough prey for the nursery, but the fresh-kill smelled delicious.

As she slowed down, she noticed his drool. With a smirk, she pushed the remnants towards him. “Go on. Take a bite. Who would ever know?”

“But…” he wanted to resist. And yet, his stomach growled.

“C’mon, you’ve earned it,” she whispered. “Crack open that leg bone and suck out the marrow. It’s delicious.”

Feeling ashamed, he carefully pulled the leg bone towards him. Grabbing the end in his mouth, he wedged it between his paws and heaved. With a snap, it opened. Gooey marrow splattered on his paws. Giving it a lick, he was surprised by the richness of the flavor. Before he could stop himself, he was gnawing at the bone hungrily.

“See? Much better than the slop kittypets eat,” she purred. His body tensed. But the Mog continued. “Buncha rat droppings. Only a kittypet would stoop to choke down-”

“I get it!” he snapped back. “Would you stop complaining for one minute?!”

She seemed shocked, and cracked open her swollen eye to stare at him. Newfound appreciation glimmered in her eyes. Then she closed her eyes again. “Kits these days. No respect for their elders.”

He rolled his eyes and stood up. It was time to get back up. He quickly dashed through the woods, following the most recent scents left by a patrol.

#red fire au #warrior cats rewrite #warriors rewrite #red fire into the wild

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dailyaudiobiblechronological · 1 year

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8/18/2023 DAB Chronological Transcription

Jeremiah 38-40, Psalm 74 and Psalm 79

Welcome to Daily Audio Bible Chronological. I'm Jill. Today is the 18th day of August and this week is winding down and we are in the thick of the book of Jeremiah. And hearing this story as we've turned the page and the story of our lives and in the story of the word of God today, in chronological order, the story of Jeremiah, the prophet sent by God to speak on behalf of God. And we are watching the effects of what happens when people do not want to hear the voice of God and just to continue in our ways. So we'll pick right up where we left off yesterday and read Jeremiah chapters 38 through 40. And just a couple days left in the New English translation. We will also jump over to Psalm; read Psalm 74 and Psalm 79 today. Jeremiah, chapter 38.

Commentary:

There's a great summarization in the God of Your Story, page 305 for those of you that have it, that bring us up to speed to where we're at today. But instead of reading that, let's just talk about a lot of things that happened today. We mentioned yesterday that Jeremiah is a prophet who continuously asks God why? Why are you sending me? Why do I have to be the one? Because who wants to be the person that's like return or there will be destruction? We like prophetic words to come all in the positive form of how it will benefit our life, how it will add to our life. Is there love? Is their fortune? Is there more? For Jeremiah to be the guy that is delivering this message of return, return to God or there will be consequences which is thematic throughout all of the Old Testament prophecies. And so he's captured, he's put in a cistern, he is charged with treason. And then he's rescued. But not without the wall being destroyed, without the city being destroyed, the temple being burned down, the temple of the Lord destroyed and death. And even after the fact the Lord comes to Jeremiah while he's confined, gives him another message to tell ebed Melek the nebulin, I will carry out against the city what I promised. It will mean disaster and not good fortune for it. When that disaster happens, you will be there to see it- that good fortune for it. When that disaster happens, you will be there to see it, but I will rescue you when it happens. I, the Lord, affirm it. You will not be handed over to those whom you fear. I will certainly save you. You will not fall victim to violence. You will escape with your life because you trust in me. I, the Lord, affirm it. I think my point is simply this today, may we not miss the warning signs in our lives from the voices of trusted sources. From the people who fear God. Know God. Love God. Trust God. And hear from God. Because it's not a whole good fortune. And here the message of hope that comes from obedience. And may we be a people who obey.

Prayer:

Father, we thank you for your word today. Thank you for meeting with us here again. Thank you that your warnings have been gracious. You are gracious to warn us for destruction ahead. And I pray that we would be people that would heed the warning while we have time so that we do not have to live in the ruins of destruction- that we do not have to live in the junk of our consequences for a rebellious spirit, for complete disobedience. We thank you. We praise you. We pray this now in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Announcements:

Look forward to turning the page with you together tomorrow. Until then, I'm Jill. Love one another.

Community Prayer Line:

Good morning DAB. This is Tonya calling from Suffolk. Today is Friday, August the 11th. I wanted to lift up Nadine from Dubai and also Simone from Texas. Heavenly Father want to thank you for being the Almighty God that you are. I want to thank you for Simone allowing her to give us a call and update us. Lord, we know that life happens, Lord God, we want to continue to trust you and put you first, Lord God, in the forefront of all things. And I want to thank you, Lord God, for just allowing someone, Lord God, to be on her new job, on her new journey and just allow her to continue to put you first, regardless of the things that may happen in our lives...I'm asking you just touch Nadine's heart. Unhardened heart. Heart Lord God. Give her heart a good heart posture, Father. Allow her her mom to come together on one accord as they both draw near to you. Lord God draw them near to each other. Lord God I'm asking. Lord God you just open up her heart. You'll all have grace and mercy on us and just allow her to have that mercy for her mom. Lord God, just remove any and everything that is not of you. In the mighty name of Jesus, I'm asking Lord God that you just just be that that pillar of comfort, that pillar of support while she's going through. God allow her to have more of you and less of herself, and that will allow her to cling to you father, which would draw her near to her mom and I'm just believing right now in the mighty name of Jesus because she loves her mom unconditionally, Father. And you know, Lord God, their love is most important that we can have in our relationship and have a loyalty and just learning to lean on each other and trust. Lord, I'm just believing in that relationship for her mom right now. In the mighty name of Jesus. This is my prayer to you. Amen. DABC as always, I love you guys. Continue to be encouraged.

Good morning, DABC families, Carrie, AKA Jesus Girl. I have a praise report. I am a grandma again. Praise the Lord. The real praise to this my granddaughter Cree was born with...she was, uh, seriously struggling to breathe on her own and I quickly put her on the prayer wall. I thank you to those that monitor that and we're praying...It's so nice and so blessed to have a family of believers that we can promptly send the word out to. And I praise God, within a couple hours she was out of the NICU and is doing wonderfully. Inge from Denmark, thank you so much my sister, for praying over Ariel. Thank you for those that have prayed at home, those recordings that may yet still come in. I so appreciate it and and God love your take on God's presence being there, regardless of whether we personally know him and know it or not. Tanya from Suffolk. Lord, I love Tanya. Hope and I just thank you for our faithful, faithful prayer, warrior. I asked. Lord, that you just bless her for her faithfulness, bless her family, Lord, continue to bless her marriage, her children. Just let her know that we love her equal to as much as she loves us. We are so grateful for her continuous calling and praying over each and every one of us. Tanya, just as you were praying for protection, I was literally just minutes away from getting on the Expressway for my the start of my road trip. So I thank you and I praise God for you. You'll be blessed. Have an amazing day. I love you bunches. Bye. Daily Audio Bible. I would like for you to please pray for my son Joseph. He's in need of a liver transplant and it's it's pretty urgent. The doctors are saying that he doesn't have much time, but I know God is greater and God is the ultimate doctor. So I pray that he would get the liver and everything would go smoothly and that he would just have favor and grace with everyone at the hospital in Denver, CO. And also I want to pray for my daughter. She's undergoing a mammogram and I just pray that there wouldn't be any tumors or anything in her body Lord. Also I wanna ask you to pray for my granddaughter, she's facing a possible thyroid cancer diagnosis. She's only 20. I pray that you would ask for God to heal her and that she wouldn't have any cancer. She goes for her final checkup and evaluation in a month. And also I want you to pray for my son's fiancee's mother. She's undergoing treatment for pancreatic cancer and she needs a whole complete healing also. And I just want to thank you guys for for all the prayers in the past and the present and the future. And also I wanna thank all the people that pray every day for for everyone and Victoria Soldier and blind Tony's poems and the Hardin family and the staff. God bless you for all that you do. And we love you and God bless you all.

I would like to request prayer for a friend of mine. Her name is Shay and her son's name is Cannon. He has autism. He is 11 years old and have begun a new therapy called spelling. He's 12. He's begun to become increasingly aggressive and possibly due to puberty. She is in her 50s and so is her husband, so they desperately want to keep him at home and with them.

Hi, this is Joyfully Joe and I'm calling out to my sister Naveen from Dubai. I heard you, sister, and I've prayed for you before in the past couple of years. I've heard you more than one time talking about your mom and your relationship and sister, I totally get it. I'm kind of in the same boat as you, my mom says and does mean things to me, too. And I understand. Oh gosh how hard it is to forgive sometimes. But forgiveness is absolutely what we have to do. And forgiveness is not for them, although they will benefit from it. Praise God. But the forgiveness is for our own hearts because when we hold unforgiveness in our hearts we can't experience the presence and the joy of our God. So, Lord, Father, I lift up my sister to you, Father God, pour out your spirit to her supernaturally, Lord God, and enable her to forgive Lord God. And flood her heart with joy and peace and rest, Lord God. And Lord Father, I pray for this upcoming trip. Lord God, surely her mom may say things again, Lord God, but I pray that you supernaturally enable my sister to find ways to cope Lord God through the power of your holy.

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heliosoll · 2 years

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frothing at the mouth for more atla dr content so here’s some questions😶‍🌫️ answer the ones you want!

what’s it like forgetting some of the realities you’ve been to up until a certain point?

were there any plot changes you scripted or that happened naturally?

what was the time line like? imo it’s not very clear from the show and some people say they were at the northern tribe for a month?? idk.

have you healed with your waterbending? what does it feel like?

how was fighting the fire girl trio? and anyone else like the dai li or fire nation at the northern water tribe?

what parts of the show/plot were you not a part of or aware of? idk if that made sense but yknow parts of show that we the audience are aware of but characters aren’t.

what’s the hardest element for you to fight?

how long did you stay after the show’s plot ended, if at all?

if you stayed longer, were the comics accurate and what did you do after the war ended?

whew! that was kinda a lot so thank you! id love to be 🌊🌌anon :).

Hi! (cute emojis btw)

what’s it like forgetting some of the realities you’ve been to up until a certain point?

It feels very natural! At least for me it does? But essentially, you know how you feel right now (or before you discovered shifting)? As if this was the very first reality you were born in and you had never gone anywhere else? That's literally what it feels like. Up until the point I remembered, I literally didn't know about shifting and thought that was the only reality.

were there any plot changes you scripted or that happened naturally?

Yes! I actually changed quite a few things so it's very much an "au" of the canon show here. First, all the adventures they went on in the first season before they got to the Northern Tribe ended up happening after we left! So I was from the Northern Tribe and I wanted to meet them when they got there but I also wanted to go on those adventures with them so that was a pretty big change. Then I also scripted that Sokka and Yue hadn't fallen in love because what happened to her was obviously very sad and I didn't want to see them go through that :( I also scripted that she was much more "alive" as the moon spirit and at night she could communicate with us! Me, Katara, and Yue could literally spend hours talking at night (and she really helped whenever we were traveling at night instead of during the day). If I remember correctly, I think that might be it? Any other changes would've happened naturally and be very insignificant.

what was the time line like?

I'm not sure what the timeline is in the show because I thought all three seasons happened in one year? But? Idk??? But for my DR, each "season" lasted about one year (so three years in total). That just made more sense for my brain and allowed us more time to chill :)

have you healed with your waterbending? what does it feel like?

I have! Since I was raised in the Northern Tribe, I learned healing first. Although I wasn't as good as Katara, I was able to help a little :) I mostly helped with smaller injuries and the occasional sneeze.

For me, it felt like normal waterbending? I remember Katara saying it felt "more" (like more energy, more special, that kind of thing) but I think that was because she had a special affinity for it. For me, it just felt like regular waterbending.

how was fighting the fire girl trio? and anyone else like the dai li or fire nation at the northern water tribe?

OOO it was awful fighting them! Personally, I think Ty Lee was the first for me. She's very quick on her feet and she can literally run circles around you without you even seeing her. We always had to watch her when she was there but that also meant drawing our attention away from the other two. Ugh... Azula and Mai were also obviously really bad. Azula is really precise and you have to pay attention to what she's doing. You also have to make sure what she says doesn't get to you (which gets easier once you're used to her). Mai was similar to Ty Lee in that you have to pay attention to her because if you don't she'll sneak up on you. When the three of them are together, it's fucking awful.

Tbh, I didn't have that much trouble fighting the Dai Li? They were mostly annoying. The attempt at the Northern Tribe was very taxing but I was mostly with Katara and everyone else at the time so it wasn't too bad for me. I helped fight Zuko and was mostly protecting Yue at the time so I wasn't out with everyone else.

what parts of the show/plot were you not a part of or aware of?

Hm... pretty much any time we got separated! Obviously, due to the memory wipe, there was a lot I wasn't aware of (like everything that was happening with enemies or just... somewhere else). In regards to just us, it was mostly when we got separated that we didn't know anything. Like when Katara went to the prison and we just didn't know what was happening to her (that was really scary!). Or when Aang went out on his own or when Katara and Zuko went on the revenge quest. Lots of stuff we didn't know!

what’s the hardest element for you to fight?

This is definitely more of a person to person thing but I hated fighting earthbenders. My personal fighting style was similar to the firebenders actually so I hated having to stop and defend with earthbenders. I often had to use water to redirect their attacks instead of just straight attacking them and it was like... ughhhh just let me hit you >:(

how long did you stay after the show’s plot ended, if at all?

I stayed for a couple of months after the show's portion ended! I didn't stay there long since I wasn't really that interested in the future political mess.

if you stayed longer, were the comics accurate and what did you do after the war ended?

I have no idea! I haven't read the comics and while I am aware of certain things that happen, I didn't stay long enough to really find out (like the whole thing that happened with Azula or Zuko and Mai breaking up again).

I was mostly just chilling after the war! We paraded around a little and went to different areas to help with post-war problems (getting people food and money, rebuilding, etc) and also just relaxed knowing that everything was okay ish again. It was nice :)

#dr storytime #letters 🎀#🌊🌌 anon

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sly-merlin · 3 years

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KILLING ME- 14

pairing : law student!reader + yuta

genre : (fluff) angst , mafia au/ arranged marriage au.

warnings of this chapter : cursing, mention of drugs, character death.

words : ~4k

summary :

“life’s never fair y/n. realise it as soon as you can . it is the only secret for living a regretless life.”

“ curiousity got the cat hitched”

K.M masterlist

K.M 13

TAGLIST : @kpop-choco @moon-yuta @kawaiiayasan @btm-taeyong @exfolitae @lanadreamie @cheersskznct @hyuckiesgf @theworld-accordingtocasey @simplybree

@yiyi4657 @sorrywonwoo @sillywinnergladiator @minejungwoo @leesalts @mal-nakamoto23 @ro2424 @itlittlefangirl @nctzens-world @bl–ankhaeji @jeaneteflo @nuoyii @bralessmermaid @minhoseyeliner @tyongpoetry @swimmingkpopblog @jkjkseo @orphicmoon @floralescapes

A/N : this chapter marks the celebration of this blog surpassing 600 followers! thank you so much for all the support! also for minor readers, the sfw versions of nsfw chapters are given at the end of the masterlist so check those properly before reading.

•••••••••••••

y/n! Are you sleeping?”

Registering his words, you replied in a groggy voice,“What the fuck do you want?”

“Your phone. I left mine in the medical room. I need to call Mark right now.” with some authority, he spoke.

Whining loudly, you fell back on the bed. It was only due but flailing your arms and legs like a kid in a toy store, you let out a screech full of annoyance, cursing your fate.

Were you really going to babysit him now?

"Have you suddenly lost your hearing? Stop with this sick attitude and open the door."

A puff of air left your nose, your chest moved rhythmically with your stomach and you relaxed your arms beneath your head, eyes fixed at the fan above and ears ringing with his voice. He kept calling you and after a number of shouts, you started humming to distract yourself, afraid that you'd end up helping him otherwise. That was something, naturally, you were not interested in. Last time he had ignored your voice and now nature had presented you with an opportunity to return the favour. Just with a bit less flavour.

"Are you dead?"

"Hmmm. To you, yes I am." Mumbling, you yawned and pushed yourself up to reach your side table and fishing out your earphones from the bottom drawer, you untangled them and fixed them comfortably in your ear, hiding yourself underneath the sheets.

Sonata no.14 instantly transported you away from the noise and the stress that was your unwanted husband, yuta. The smile playing on your lips widened as you realised that you were his only mode of communication at the moment.

But You were going for a nap. Until then, he could wait. And thrash. And cry. Or die.

Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you rotated the handle of the door to walk outside but your little trip was interrupted when your body collided straight into a wall. No. The obstruction was too soft for a wall.

Opening your eyes properly, you saw yuta standing stiff. Surprised at the sudden appearance, you immediately stumbled back and in hurry, hit your spine on the wooden door. The glare of his eyes, that always spoke more than you could comprehend, coupled with a clenched jaw, was not a very pleasant sight for sure yet you found it harder to dart your own eyes away from him.

"Your phone" he seethed, breathing deeply.

"Huh?" You croaked out.

He raised his brow and in an instant, the previous scenario played like a short movie in your head. Snapping your head down, you regarded his leg with pity. He obviously noticed it immediately but seemed to ignore it and refrained from saying anything. Good for you, you thought.

"Are you deaf?"

Your furrowed brows met his eyes and with a roll of his own, he picked up his finger to force his demand but you managed to walk back inside your room before he could've done that.

Your back faced him as you contemplated your options while slowly stretching your arm to reach for your phone on the other side of the bed.

should you even be giving him your phone?

You had more trust in Taeyong than the man you shared a roof with so there was no way you were doing that.

Unbeknownst to you, yuta was watching your movements intently and the way you bobbed your head, he knew you were scheming something so he decided to be polite for a moment. Only until you were needed. Or your phone was needed.

Once the phone was in your hand, another thought crossed your mind.

"Wait. Where is the house phone?" Crossing your arms, you asked him slyly, already knowing the answer

"You fucking never got it installed. It's still in its stupid package" he seemed rather impatient.

"And you could've called reception through the door telecom. He would have phoned Mark for you. These rich apartments certainly have more hospitality tha-

"I CAN'T GO AROUND DISTRIBUTING AN UNDERGROUND CRIMINAL'S CONTACT NUMBER TO EVERYONE"

He inhaled and exhaled and you just watched until he opened his eyes again, hand reaching out to you.

"Chill. I've every right to be sceptic especially when you are the one asking for it."

Finding Mark's number on your phone, you called him.

Yuta's hand threaded through his rough hair as he noticed what you were trying to do.

"Hey mark!" Your chirpy voice resounded in the room and yuta was sure this was some different spirit speaking. You sounded too bubbly for the way you were investigating him just a second ago.

"Yes yes. His phone exactly.i don't trust him enough to hand over my phone so that's why I'm calling you myself. Just hurry up if you can or you might have to clean up a dead body in the next few hours."

With that you cut the phone. Without meeting yuta's gaze and resting your hand on the handle, you mumbled,

"He'll be here in an hour."

You were about to close the door when he stopped it with the palm of his hand, alerting you with the force.

"Tell him to get some food too."

And limping, he retired back, to the couches.

Sighing, you messaged mark. Had it been for something else, you'd have ignored but your own stomach had signalled you that it needed some good food so you chose not to fight against your own body.

Now, only the taste of the food could decide how many days you were going to tolerate that barbaric human.

"Are you still going to that stupid internship?" Johnny hesitantly murmured from your desk chair while taking big bites from the plate.

"It's not stupid please! I’m just waiting for them to actually pay attention to my awesome capabilities so they can transfer me to the main branch. This is not bad either but”, you stopped to lick your forefinger and tasting the sauce, continued, “but I really wanna go into the criminal unit. That’s where the actual fun is. As long as i’m being paid decently, i’ll suffer with the stupid research work here.”

“With the tongue as sharp as yours, I think you should be getting ready for a demotion instead” he laughed, showing you his fake bunny teeth in the most annoying and childish way.

“Ha ha ha ha. Some well wisher you are! Thank you so much for looking out for me but I'll be fine. Who knows the gatekeeper’s pay package is more than me. So it’d be a win-win in that case too I guess?” when you did a drum roll with your chopsticks to stress upon your point, he laughed harder.

"So being broke is the new black?" Rolling his eyes, he dragged out, "I swear you kids don't know how this world works."

"And you, grandpa of the century, knows?"

"I'm aware of what I need for my survival and from what I've learnt, you can either take risks or look for job security. In your case, " he fake coughed, "where the proportions of risk taking have already exceeded the acceptable limit, a job security is the best and safest option to choose."

"And that would justify my greed and desire to work for the biggest company of this city."

"Kun. The security you need and the independence you seek would be given by kun. Chois are hmm how to say? Cheap? Yeh cheap. They have no work ethics. "

"Have you worked with them, johnny?"

"No. I'm ju-

"Then was your ex a choi?" You saw his eyes comically and cutely widening at your remark.

"No. My ex wasn't a choi and that's not what I'm saying and you know that."

"Oh. So your ex wasn't a choi. Then a lee? Kim? Im? Oh my god! Look at your cheeks seo!" You dragged out. He shook his head as you kept wiggling your brows at him.

"She was a kim but that doesn't mean I would hate all kims dude. That's baseless and stop ignoring the topic. I want you to apply in Kuns. It's the best option. Do it as soon as you-

"Yeah yeah we'll see about that. First take that bitch back. I can't even nap in his presence. "

"Umm. Yeah. You gotta tolerate him. And besides he's injured. Injured yuta is like a gun without a bullet. He's gonna shout for a day or two and then peace out. He'll be sleeping and reading in his room and you won't even know if he's alive or not."

"Now that's bullshit. What is he going to do here anyway? I hope he can hop himself on one leg because even if the sun rises from the north, I am not going to do a single task for him. He can die hungry , for all I care.”

“Do you think you can endure him for some tasty dinners?”

Clicking your tongue, you quipped, “Do you really think you can buy me with a few homemade meals?”

Day 1

Yes. you were sold. The moment the tasty noodles had melted in your mouth, you knew you had no dignity. And you were indeed ashamed of yourself.

Earlier, Renjun had called you to inform you that he had delivered the food and medicines for yuta and had left your dinner box but he had failed to mention the special and endearing note that was pasted on the glass box. In the curvy letters, it read bitchy piglet and you swore the only person you’d be killing before yuta would be jaehyun. But you were going to use jaehyun to build up your tolerance instead.

When you went out to clean your dishes, he was playing some game on his phone, excitement evident from the way he was laughing every other second. Maybe if he remained occupied, he would not be so insufferable.

Day 3

"Oyii! Oyii!"

No. You were wrong. He was very very much insufferable.

At midnight, his voice echoed, disturbing your sleep. You cursed at the cool atmosphere that had prevented you from using the air con which otherwise would have blocked his annoying screeches. But it seemed like bad luck wanted to change its name to y/n instead. With your name being called like a broken record, it was a fight between you and him that you were not going to lose. Shuffling to your side, you covered your ears with the other pillow and tried to drown out the annoyingly demanding and hoarse voice. There was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of having any power over you. He could cry for all he liked!

“What the fuck do you want at this hour?”

Attempting a glare at him through sleepy lids, you spewed with irritation. Unlike you, he was very much awake, breathing with the sole purpose of making you question your whole existence.

“Pillow” scratching his non-existent beard, he mumbled.

Your nostrils flared and jaw clenched at such inconvenient command.

“You summoned me for a pillow? A pillow that can normally be found on a person’s bed? Can you please rectify your demand or did I just simply hear something wrong?”

The opened curtains and the moonlight that drenched the room was the only source that illuminated his face for you and even with drooping eyes, you could see how serious he was and yet you couldn't hold your tongue back because he simply deserved every shit you bestowed him with.

“Turn the lights on and count the pillows on my bed! And when you are done, get me some pillows from your room.” he simply stated.

“Why should i give you my pillow? I need them!”

“Because I don't use a pillow and I need it asap!”

“Then why do you suddenly need one? To disturb my sleep? Oh that makes sense.” and suddenly, your eyes had synced with your body to side with your fight mode.

“I need them for elevating my leg. The bandage is too tight and it’s not comfortable.”

“Then why don't you walk out of the room and get some cushions for yourself!” you raised your volume.

“Because my leg is in pain and i’m unable to get up? What makes you think I'm dying to see your ugly face at this time of the night. I dont wanna have nightmares of you as well but i can't help it ok!”

“you should have kept them near you. And who are you calling ugly hmm? You poop fac-

“Okay scream for all you want! But get me a pillow when your battery dies down!”

“What the fuck d- are you covering your ears? Wow ways to be generous!”

Stomping your foot, you left the room to get the hardest cushion on the couch.

“Here! Next time call Mark if you want anything. Don’t raise your voice ever again to call me because unlike you, i have work in the morning and hence I need some sleep..”

Just when you were about to leave after shoving the cushion in his hand, he spoke up again,

“This is damn hard! I asked for your pillow specifically and not th- AHH!”

A scream left him as you harshly removed the support , leaving his leg to painfully meet the mattress.

“How about you fix your attitude before fixing your leg?” suggesting, you dropped the cushion on the floor and left.

He didn't call you after that. Nor that you cared. However, the sleep in your eyes somehow vanished. Dancing on your sides didn’t help. Neither did drinking a glass of water. So, with a groan, you listened to your conscience and picked up your extra pillow that was sadly too perfect for your enemy.

Padding to his room, you tried your best to scrutinise and hearing his heavy snores, you placed the pillow right under his thigh and the cushion under his calf. Scoffing at his sleeping figure, you internally groaned to remind yourself that you hadn't done it for him. It was just a debt. For the blanket he had once covered you with. Nothing more and nothing less.

Day 5

You just wanted him out of your hair. He was just being a load on your head. At first, only the work was kicking your ass, then jungwoo was kicking you like a punching bag for an hour straight and adding to your distress was yuta.

"I'm not your maid! Stop piling up the dishes for me. I've had enough mercy on you. From today onwards, get a cleaner for yourself or buy disposable cutlery. I'm not going to clean after you!"

With a roll of his eyes, he had ignored you.

And so did you. Pasting a warning note on the sink tap, you had left for the library with a dying hope that maybe the kitchen would be spotless on your arrival or you'd be dialing some numbers in the evening.

For someone who despised the solemn atmosphere of libraries, you had successfully spent 11 hours in the said hellish room. It was 11 p.m and you wanted to sleep, more than anything but here you were, waiting for yugyeom so he'd just pick you up for a good drinking session that you were dying to have.

Fortunately, you weren't the only one who had missed living these past days. Everyone, for different reasons, was suffering so you felt a little less bad for yourself even though you knew your troubles were far more grave than their academic burdens.

"Wake up shorts" someone whispered in your ear. Squirming on your seat, you whipped your head in your sleepy state and found jungkook caressing your head, goofily smiling at you.

"I thought you wanted to hang out till the next morning" air quoting the last words, he picked up your bag.

"Yeah. Let's go. I'm all ready for a night full of vodkas." You yawned out.

"Definitely. No. You are going home. We can have a small get together me and yuggy are done with our final project." He dragged you out into the parking lot.

" I feel like it's been years since we got drunk together. You are never here anymore!" You whined at him, complaining your heart out.

"I will be. Soon. Then we can celebrate your little choi job as well."

"Oh please. Don't even mention it. If I had penny for every time they rolled their eyes at me, I'd be richer than your parents kook." You huffed out and as his gentle laugh surrounded you, you closed your eyes resting your back against the seat, expecting to be up by the time he'd park.

But the next day, you woke up tangled in the sheets of your bed, unaware of the events of the previous night.

When you had warned yuta about the dirty dishes, you hadn't expected him to fill the corners of the kitchen with disposable containers. It looked like you had missed a whole drama while sleeping in the library. The kitchen was shining except for the new utensils. But as long as you were not babysitting him, you were fine with anything. You didn't want to jinx your relief, however, you were glad you would be able to get some work done. finally.

You had spoken too early for your own good. Just when you sat down to write your paper, passionate and enthusiastic howls of that man pierced through your earphones and once again, you opened the window and hopped outside, in the balcony, ready to drown him out. Sipping on your lemonade, you gaped at the scenery the not so distant traffic provided you with and somehow, your thoughts wandered to the only person these horns reminded you of. Johnny.

What are you doing? Your fingers hovered over the text but once again, you deleted the message, declaring it to be too childish for someone as mature as him. Maybe you were just being silly. Maybe you were not. But who was going to put a stamp on your maybe?

Tears pricked your eyes as the harsh words of your senior thundered in the room. He kept shouting and you had no option than to consume each and every word he directed at you. Even if you were being insulted in front of your twenty other co-workers, staying quiet was the best option, you ascertained. so along with your saliva, you gulped your explanations down your throat.

Howsoever unconscious, you were still in the wrong. There was no excuse as to why you had mailed the wrong bills, apart from the headache that was caused by the person possibly lying on the sofa and watching t.v back home. No matter how much you tried to run away from his existence, he had somehow managed to let himself inside your head.

Glaring at the kid who asked for his turn on the park swing, you pushed yourself a little higher, letting the wind greet your stinging eyes as it hit your face in waves. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you chose to ignore jungwoo for a day as it was the time, you decided, to let all the lessons that the past few months had taught you sink into your mind, to bleed into your soul so you won’t ever be able to deviate from them. Ever.

Only if that was so easy. You knew blaming others for your problems was no solution but trivialising them by not paying heed wasn't a smart move either.

When you reached home, your frustrations had died down. So when yuta simpered and pointed towards your empty container, telling you how he had already finished your supposed dinner, you simply rolled your eyes at him, robbing him of whatever he wanted to achieve by riling you up. Heating up the water, you were about to open the noodles packet when yeong called you.

You stared at the shattered phone screen in disbelief as the endless tears ran down your cheeks. As you verbalised the words to yourself again, your body met the floor with a thud.

Jungkook. Drugs. No more.

Three words had silenced the screeches in your head and your mind busied itself in rejecting what you had heard for it had to be a lie. But what how were you going to ignore the heart wrenching screams that yeong had let out. How were you going to dismiss the truth.

How were you all going to accept it?

••••••••••••••••

next update: Some day between 5-7 June.

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #cznnet #kafenetwork #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct x reader #nct smut #nct angst #nct mafia #nct reactions #yuta scenarios #yuta imagines #yuta smut #nct arrange marriage #yuta angst #yuta mafia #johnny scenarios

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