#her attack movements and her general actions are enough to strike the living fear of god in me

[guardianofjunmyeon]

Finding Atlantis (part 5)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description:  20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to  any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has  heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer  men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key  to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they  find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt  began.    

A/N: Here we are with an update a week later! :3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

You both watch as Chanyeol runs off to collect the new additions to your crew. You furrow your brows. “You’re willing to just leave your ship and your men?” you ask.

He shrugs and starts walking in the direction of the dock. “It’s not my ship. I stole it and scouted a couple of men to help me man it. Jongin, Chanyeol, and Sehun are the only men I really consider my crew.”

“Oh,” you say quietly.

“They don't really need me, the other men. They can have the ship; they were bound to mutiny any day now. I wasn’t paying them shit,” he laughs loudly. You look at him a bit sadly and then conceal it.

What’s a captain without his ship?

In that case, you suppose you don’t have any reason not to take them on as your own. You grab him by the arm to stop him. “Alright, well let’s shake on it. On our temporary ally ship.” You jut out your hand and he takes it in his without hesitation. A solid handshake is all it takes to put the past aside.

“Let’s get this sea bitch home!” He chirps. You give him a tired look and he shrugs it off unapologetically. “What?”

You can see your ship clearly as you near the dock, and a happiness that you haven’t felt in weeks blossoms in your chest. You missed her. You missed her a fucking lot.

“Byun Baekhyun and the Storm Chaser at the same port yet again. I wouldn’t believe myself if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.” You stop in your tracks as a group of three men walk up blocking your path. The man on the left is short and stocky. His skin looks like poorly cared for leather and a tattoo of a water dragon stretches up his neck and covers half of his face. The man in the center, the man who spoke, has a beard so long and unkempt that you can image a family of lice living there unperturbed for generations. The last man is the tallest of the three, extremely skinny, with a creepy smile gleaming with fake gold teeth.

You clench your fists. You just can’t catch a break being around Baekhyun can you? “You must be its captain, going around and stealing other ships to keep your identity a secret, huh? You must think you’re hot shit, you one-eyed fuck,” the obvious leader of the group says, beard lice landlord.

Baekhyun gasps dramatically and places one hand over his heart and the other over his eye patch, “Hurtful.”

You want to drive your sword through the man’s stomach for assuming Baekhyun, of all people, captain of your beloved ship.

It’s been months since you’ve gotten a chance to really use a sword, and with the way things are shaping, it looks like your drought may soon be over. The men train their eyes solely on Baekhyun, and you want to laugh at the fact that they’re completely overlooking the actual Captain in lieu of having a pissing contest with Baekhyun.

Men make you sick.

You’d rather die than let Baekhyun take these kills and your title from you.

The leader takes a step forward and you reach for your blade. Baekhyun side-steps you and blocks you from their vision. Your cheeks flame in anger. “Hey now guys. Come on, why don’t we all just relax and go our separate ways? I need to get back to my ship. As you can see I’ve got company.” He jerks his thumb in your direction and you grumble low in your throat.

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you murmur murderously to Baekhyun’s back.

“Screw you and your whore Byun. There’s quite the reward for you, dead or alive. And another even larger one for that ship there’s captain.” Baekhyun’s mouth turns down in a frown while yours turns up in satisfaction. You’re worth more than he is? A win for you. “We could kill two birds with one gun,” the man continues. His fingers twitch towards the weapon at his side.

Looks like a fight, you think happily. You grab Baekhyun’s shirt to pull him back so that you don’t have to worry about killing him in the crosshairs. Then again, maybe you should slice your way through him first.

He takes a step backwards to your side. “Slap me,” he whispers. You look at him incredulously. “Slap me and follow my lead,” he says a bit louder.

Whatever.

You strike him with all the strength in your body. You aren’t sure why you needed to smack him but you aren’t going to turn down an invitation. The “Ow!” that falls loudly from his lips is genuinely angry. You almost think that the two of you are just going to fight to the death right here to save the idiots -trying to stop you from getting to your ship- the trouble. The sting in your hand feels, so, so good.

He cradles his cheek and his eye flashes angrily before he masks it. “Baby, what’s wrong now?”

You physically recoil in disgust. Baby?

His eye flickers to the side where the men are standing, seemingly amused by what Baekhyun is trying to paint as a couple’s spat. Oh. Realization hits and you jump into your role as the angry lover.

Honestly, you don’t have to try that hard.

“Baby? Don’t fucking call me baby. Why’s it that every time I find myself with you, someone is trying to kill us? Huh? I’m sick and tired of being dragged into your bullshit,” you exclaim. He scoffs, genuinely, or part of the role, you can’t tell. You poke him hard in his chest. “Don’t you think that I want to go out on a walk or go out to eat without…without,” you glance around and spot a woman pushing her child in a stroller. You take in a breath and place you hand over your abdomen. “Without fearing for me and my baby’s life?”

He blinks rapidly. “Baby?” You can hear equal parts repulsion and amusement in the tone of his voice.

“Yes, baby. I didn’t want to tell you like this, but of course this is how you ended up finding out. I’m fucking sick of this Baekhyun!”

“There’s no way that baby is mine. I’ve always used protection.” You raise your eyebrows in amazement. Now that was a flat out lie. His lip twitches upwards.

“Are you calling me a whore?” you hiss.

He holds out his hands in defense. “I’m just saying in your profession I’m sure that you have to entertain lots of men and-” You pull out your sword and point it at his chest.

“The women who sleep with people for money work hard for what they’ve earned, and should be respected for their profession.”

“Don’t act too rash…” he takes a step back and raises his eyebrow minutely. You hope that is some kind of signal, because you don’t know how much longer you can go around acting before you actually drive your sword through his shoulder. “Think of the-” he unsheathes his own sword “Baby!” and hits yours away.

Your arm veers to the right from the impact. Purely from the surprise of it all, you swing your sword back at Baekhyun by instinct. He manages to block the hit. He swings back and nearly nicks your arm; luckily you manage to shift enough for it to swipe at nothing but air. He’s getting too fucking close for this to be part of the act.

You aim for his knee and he jumps back just barely avoiding your attack. “Now!” he shouts to you. It takes you a full second to remember that you aren’t actually supposed to be fighting Baekhyun, but the men still watching you both, fully distracted. You turn your blade on the man closest to you, the man with golden teeth, and swing it across his face. He screams and drops to his knees while Baekhyun drives his sword through the stomach of the shorter man with the tattoo on his face. You quickly slide your blade through the neck of the man on the ground in front of you and turn to find Baekhyun trying to fight off the larger leader of the group.

You run passed the henchmen you each put down, dropping the larger sword you grabbed off Junmyeon to the ground. You snatch the shorter knife on lice beard’s hip while he’s distracted and jump on his back, pulling his head to the side and slicing his throat open with ease. He collapses backwards and you let yourself fall to the ground first and roll far enough way so his dead body won’t crush you.

Your chest rises and falls with adrenaline and you wipe the blood on the blade off onto the thigh of your pants. Baekhyun’s hand lands on your shoulder, “Nice-” your knife drives through his side. “FUCK- why’dyou-shit!” You turn to see him holding both his hands over the shallow gash in his side. You throw the bloodied knife to the ground and stand up, still breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” you say flatly. “Heat of the moment…baby.”

“Oh fuck you,” he spits.

“Come on.” You grab his right arm and throw it over your shoulder. You guide him over to your discarded sword and he hisses with each movement. You let him lean on you as you guide him back, limping, to your ship.

“You did that on purpose,” he accuses. You bite your lip to keep from smiling too wide. “You’re smiling about it? I fucking knew it. You’re a fucking liar, what happened to the truce?”

“It’s not that deep a cut. You aren’t going to die from it. We’ll get you stitched up; stop whining.”

Despite your words, he whines all the way onto your ship. Yixing looks at you with raised eyebrows and you shake your head. “Don’t ask right now. Make sure everyone is aboard and let’s put some distance between us and land.”

Yixing smirks and goes off to get the ship in motion. You decide to attend to the crybaby leaning against you yourself. The infirmary isn’t far from the forecastle, where most of the living quarters are. You stumble into the room and let him go so that he can sit down while you search for the supplies needed to fix him up.

He moans pitifully and you shush him. “Shut up, you aren’t that hurt.”

“You aren’t the one who got stabbed.”

“I stabbed you with a purpose. It stings worse than it actually is.” Supplies collected, you kneel down at his side and lift up his shirt. “Hold it up,” you command. He grumbles but follows your instruction. You wipe away the blood surrounding the cut and work on disinfecting the actual wound. Just as you’d said, it’s not large. About as thick as your pinky and as long as your thumb.

He hisses for a long time as you wordlessly clean the wound. When he flinches so hard that he almost kicks the needle from your hand, you sigh and look up at him.

“Hold still,” you admonish.

You return your focus back on stitching the wound so that it will close on its own. It’s not a pretty job, but it will keep. You feel just the smallest twinge of guilt for slicing open his side during your truce, but it fades quickly at the many memories of the times he’s stabbed or shot you.  

Truce be damned for a second. He had this coming. You sit up on your knees as you wrap a dressing around his waist to cover the fresh stitches. As a way to silently apologize for going back on your truce, you treat him with gentle fingers and careful touches. You secure the dressing and sit back on your heels satisfied. You exhale softly and feel strangely proud of your work. You feel a small smile etching itself on your lips before you look up and catch Baekhyun looking down at you. His expression unreadable.

Your smile slides off. He lets his shirt drop down to cover the bandages, stark white against his tanned skin, and you feel a bit uncomfortable with the seriousness in his gaze.

“When you’re ready you can come out and we’ll have a meeting with all of the crew.” He nods and then avoids your eyes. You frown and leave the room a bit aggravated with his behavior. What the fuck is his problem?

Jongin comes up to you as soon as you’re out of the infirmary. “Is he okay? What happened?” He sounds as distressed as he looks.

“He’s fine. It’s a little cut. Nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.” You try to smile reassuringly but it comes out as a grimace at best. Jongin’s eyes widen when he looks behind you and he jogs off with a worried, “Baekhyun!”

Yixing leans against the newly repaired mainmast with knowing eyes. He gives you a thumbs up, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Attention everyone!” you call. A circle begins to form around you. You take note of faces, those you know well, those you know are new, and the ones you know are missing. You feel sadness deep in your heart.

But the ship must go on.

“Everyone, we have added a few new members to our crew as we head off on our new mission. I know that our original plans were to go on that bounty hunt, but circumstances…changed.” You glance towards Baekhyun and his men all standing together. “I know that we have lost a few men in the last weeks, and we will be sending them off in the way that we know how later on tonight.” You watch faces fall across your crew.

“For now, I want to inform you all of our next course of action. I previously discussed this with Junmyeon and Yeri, and they have decided to join me in asking for your support.” You look over and see Yeri nodding her head. Junmyeon looks on tiredly. “We are going after Atlantis…again.” You expect the disgruntled murmurs and hushed whispers among your men. You continue on, “I know that I said we were done trying to find it, but we’ve recently come across some new information.” You motion to Baekhyun. He waves happily to your crew.

You shake your head in annoyance. “If you have any disagreements with our plan, feel free to come talk to me or Junmyeon personally.” No one speaks up so you push on. “Junmyeon, you still have the compass and map I gave you right?” He nods. “I need you and Yeri to make sense of the map as best you can; I’ll be there to explain some things in a minute.”

“Are we not locking Byun up?” Minseok asks.

You sigh. “No, he’ll just pick his way out like a little roach. They'll be sleeping in the crew living quarters. They’re a part of this crew during the duration of this mission; treat them accordingly,” you tell your crew. “As for you all, the rules on this ship are simple. You do your job, you respect everyone on this ship as you would yourself, and you don’t lay a hand on anyone in any way deemed inappropriate. Break these rules and I will personally slice your penis off your body and force you to watch as it’s dropped into the sea,” you tell Baekhyun’s additions to the vessel.

“A-Ay,” Chanyeol stammers.

“That’s ‘Ay Captain’,” you correct.

“Ay, Captain!” all but one repeats. Baekhyun clenches his jaw, refuses to give in. You wait with both hands settled on your hips. Your crewmen look on in a mix of amusement and apprehension at the rising tension.

“I don’t think I heard you Byun.”

He laughs in incredulity. Arms cross over his chest. “Ay, Captain,” he acquiesces. You tilt your head proud of his compliance.

“Alright everyone, let’s get moving!” You crew disperses and you follow Junmyeon with your eyes as he heads into your quarters chatting animatedly with Yeri at his side.

You feel Baekhyun’s presence before you hear him. “It’s him isn’t it? Suho. Junmyeon.”

You nod slowly, staring at the door where your first mate has gone. “Yeah,” you murmur. You know that Baekhyun is still missing a lot of essential information about Junmyeon, about Suho, about his life and how he ended up here practically co-captain of your ship.

You’ll fill him in at some point.

All in due time.

You don’t want to think about all of this quite yet, not with him, so you deflect the conversation. “What can your men do, where can I put them?” You scan the four men standing a bit shyly behind their former captain.

“Jongin was in charge of medical. He’s good with medicine and rigging. Chanyeol was our best man in the artillery and also worked the kitchen with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo was our head cook, but is also well-trained with artillery and general sailing strategies. Sehun has good direction and ability to decipher maps,” Baekhyun rattles off.

That’s good. You needed these skills. From what you could tell, you lost your cook and doctor, Kun, two gunners, Jaehyun and Amber, and… Taemin. Each loss hurts a bit more when you think too long about their absence. You try your hardest not to let it show on your face. It feels sick to replace them with people that are responsible for their deaths.

“Kyungsoo, you can head to the kitchen. It’s under your control, we lost our cook when-” you suck in a breath to stop yourself. Chanyeol and Jongin wince. “The kitchen is all yours.” You finish lamely. “Jongin you’re in charge of our infirmary. Our cook was also our head doctor,” you say bitterly. He avoids your eyes and draws into himself. “I’ll tell Minseok to get Chanyeol and Kyungsoo acquainted with our artillery. You and Sehun meet me in my quarters in 10 minutes. We need to figure out our heading.” You turn on them before any questions can be asked and walk a bit dizzily to the forecastle and very front of your ship for a second to yourself.

You hadn’t gotten a chance to mourn the men you lost, and being hit so suddenly with their absence as you quickly filled positions they each held for years is painful enough to force tears from your eyes. You try not to cry in front of your crew for the sake of morale, but it’s tough to skip over the mourning process in order to get back to work. Everyone else at least had a month to properly mourn.

You get a few hours at most.

You wipe away the tears and try to gather your breathing before you have to face everyone in your quarters. You don’t want it to be too obvious that you were crying.

“Hey…” you sniff and rub at your face with the palms of your hands harshly. Yixing walks to your side and leans against the railing with you. He looks out at the expanse of water and gives you a few seconds of grateful silence before he speaks again. “You don't have to hide your crying like this. We all really miss them, you don’t have to pretend that you aren’t hurt.” He pauses. “You could at least choose a better location, you’re completely visible up here,” he jokes. You laugh a bit.

The wind blows and the ship’s sails flap.

“I’m just…it feels wrong to fill their spots like this. It was Baekhyun and his crew’s fault that they died. It’s his fault and now they’re just taking up their space as if nothing is wrong,” you wipe away another stray tear angrily. You understand that taking them on was the smartest decision given the circumstances, but it doesn’t lessen the feeling of betrayal.

Yixing hums. “You know…I don’t want you to think that I’m taking their side because I’m not. But…I don’t think they meant to kill any of our men in the attack.” You look at him in horror. How could he defend them when you all lost men because of them? He sets his lips in a line. “Their cannons were aimed at the mainmast to keep us immobile, and that’s where they hit. When it fell, it nearly hit Junmyeon but Taemin pushed him out of the way and it crushed his legs instead. He held on for a bit, but got sick on top of his injuries as we headed to Arae. He died in the infirmary. Kun got sick while he was trying to take care of Taemin. Pneumonia. We had to quarantine them both for days before they passed away. One of our cannons backfired when we tried to attack Baekhyun’s ship in return, and it took out Amber and Jaehyun. You and I both know how often that can happen in the artillery,” he explains.

You process his words and you know that, logically, all of these things were accidents, a series of unfortunate events and not malicious attempts at murder, but the irrational side of you wants to blame someone. To blame Baekhyun.

“I’m not telling you not to be angry, or upset,” Yixing continues. “I just want you to look at this objectively and realize that it isn’t completely their faults that we lost our men. Fate just…wasn’t on our sides.” He gazes at you with soft eyes. You can feel angry tears welling up again. He pats your shoulder. “Take a while to cool down, to mourn. I’ll tell Junmyeon that you’ll be a minute.”

Yixing leaves with a squeeze of your shoulder and you let yourself breakdown. The tears fall heavily and your chest tightens so much that it physically hurts to breathe. You could curse the sky, the moon, the ocean, but at the end of the day, it was just their time to go.

If Yixing truly believes that it wasn’t blatant murder then you have to take a second to separate your mind from your emotions as well. You can’t storm off and make their lives hell; you told your crewmen that these new additions are a part of your crew. You all have to respect that for the time being.

You could ask anyone on your crew and you’re sure that they would tell you the same things. How they died, the circumstances. They’re truthful people. They wouldn’t recount it blinded by rage and hatred.

They will all tell you what they saw, just as they saw it.

They would say that it was all just bad timing.

Maybe that’s what upsets you most.    

You take a few more minutes to wipe your face and gather your composure before you walk into the Captain’s Quarters where Yeri and Junmyeon are crouched over the map and compass speaking in hushed tones. You can see the confusion in Junmyeon’s furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips.

“Does anything look familiar?” You ask smoothly.

“Vaguely,” Junmyeon says before he looks up from the table. He quickly takes in your appearance, and opens his mouth to comment, confusion on his face switching to concern when the door opens and Baekhyun walks in with Sehun on his tail.

Yeri opens and closes the compass. “Your compass is broken,” she says.

“It’s not broken,” Baekhyun corrects. “It supposedly points to the thing you want most in the world.”

“No kidding,” Yeri exclaims in amazement.

You avoid Junmyeon’s eyes as you project composure to the rest of the people in the room. He knows you well enough to know when something is wrong, but that doesn’t mean that everyone else does. “Yeah, that’s what Baekhyun and I were told when it was given to us. Is your home the place you want most in the world?” You ask Junmyeon.

There is a deep sadness in his eyes that only slightly covers up his concern. “I don’t know,” he admits.

“Well we’re kind of fucked if you don’t want to go back,” Baekhyun observes bluntly. Sehun elbows him in the arm to shut him up.

“I know…it’s been a very long time since you’ve been home, and I know there were reasons that you left. But I need you to look deep within yourself and tell me that you don’t still ache to return.” His gaze wavers under yours; he breaks eye contact first. “It’s okay,” you assure him, walking over to rub his back as he tries not to show the battle he’s been waging with himself for years.

He tries to hide it.

You know him well enough to be able to see it anyway.

“This was always the end goal, right? You never have to feel bad for wanting to go home.” You try to smile. Yeri whimpers and throws her arms around him in a hug. Baekhyun and Sehun stand awkwardly to side while you all try to contain your emotions. This isn’t goodbye.

“Maybe you’d be able to come and visit again,” Sehun offers softly.

“Yeah, you guys are acting like he’s going to die if he goes back. People leave Atlantis all the time,” Baekhyun adds.

You grab the closed compass from the table and place it in your first mate’s palm. “Just think of home,” you comment softly.

He takes in a large breath and closes his eyes. You open the compass in his hand and watch it spin wildly from side to side before finally settling. Baekhyun peaks over your shoulder.

“Huh,” he remarks in amazement.

Junmyeon opens his eyes and looks down.

“Southeast,” you say in unison. Yeri motions Sehun to her side. They begin using the heading with the map you were given to chart.

“We’re going to finish this. I promise,” you tell the man at your side.

Baekhyun pushes between you both to grab the compass from Junmyeon’s hand. “Irene said that the sea wants you and that you should listen to her song to lead you home.” He plays with the device with deft fingers.

Junmyeon tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Song? I mean…sometimes I hear noises. Something like a melody. It happens randomly, at different times of the day and sometimes not for months at a time. It’s the same tune every time.” He laughs embarrassed. “I just thought it was sea madness or something.”

“We need you to figure out where it wants you to go. You’re the only one who can hear it and follow it. The song and a rhyme, they're the main things you need to get home,” you tell him. “I don’t remember what the rhyme was…fuck I should have written it down-”

“Follow the sound of your soul, she’ll call out to you to bring you back to your shoal. She’ll fight you to prove that your heart is true, to crush you and build you back stronger in her darkest shade of blue. Beautiful songs will call out to confuse the path, to distract you, but remembering your heart will get you through. She’ll finally take you in her arms again, cradled and safe where all life began,” Baekhyun repeats the rhyme with ease. You look at him amazed.

Junmyeon murmurs the rhyme under his breath. “I-I think that I’ve heard that rhyme before…when I was younger. I’d forgotten all about it,” he says in shock. He falls into the chair closest to him heavily and begins to repeat it over and over to himself softly.

“Southeast,” you murmur to yourself. Junmyeon is the only one who can piece together the missing parts of his memory. The longer he’s away, the less he’s able to recall about his relationship with the ocean. Little pieces of memory, little parts of himself, all lost with time. “Yeri, can you work with Sehun and Baekhyun to figure out what we should expect to encounter?” She nods determined. Sehun gives you a decided look and you know that they will work hard together to piece together whatever they can with what little information you all have.

You and Baekhyun share a look. An understanding finally settling between you after all that’s happened, after all that’s been revealed. He nods. You offer a small smile in return.

[killrockabill]

azula redemptive

so this isnt a full redemption more of a setting her on the path. azula is a character i kind of identify with. i grew up in a chaotic environment and learned to “play the game” manipulate lie and occasionally throw people under the bus. at first it was just a way to get through life but then it kinda just became who i was. i have gone to counseling etc but still occasionally wonder if my feelings are real or if theyre just what theyre supposed to be. i was lucky to have people in my life. my uncle irohs but she didnt seem to. here it is.

Azula was never the type for brooding, that was more zuzu’s territory. Tonight was different. She was tired. It had been a few years since the avatar ended one hundred year war.  she had barely kept track of the actual amount of time. In the time since however; she had not grown complacent. she couldn’t. 

Zuzu had become the fire lord and seemed to be decent enough at it. At least he was capable of not destroying the fire nation with incompetence. While they were never close there was a hint of something in her that could almost be considered pride. No. Pride was the wrong word the feeling was more that of acknowledgment. He and the avatar won and that was the end of that story. 

For a time azula was unsure of her place in the universe. She had lived her life to be the true heir, to be ozai. He was a wrathful and petty god and she was his disciple. 

“ Why was that again?” She pondered. “Well what else could i be? Zuzu?” She knew she was smarter than that.

Zuko was soft and too stupid to play the game, so she used him. Every misstep, every weakness was a way to save herself from being him. Did she ever feel bad about it? Perhaps a long time ago, not that it mattered. You do something long enough you get used to it and when you get good at it you start to enjoy it. Every maneuver, every manipulation was a victory and nobody played the game like her. 

“My shadow lord” a shaky voice called from behind. The cult of ozai must have sent him. They had been useful to be sure, but she hated that name. It reminded her of the darkness within her, the same darkness her mother saw. 

“Yes?” Azula spoke finally in an exasperated tone. “What is it? i have no use of any of you right now.”

“F-forgive me. I-I have come to warn you.” he stuttered as though he were shaken by the earth itself. 

“You? Warn me? I may not be the fire lord anymore, but i am still one of the most powerful firebenders of this generation. What could be coming that I need worry?!” That was a bit more intense than she intended, but anyone who knew her knew it was her default state.

“N-nothing that i'm sure you cannot handle, b-but as your loyal servant it’s my duty. The ozai followers t-they doubt your intentions. They believe you don't intend to restore ozai to power.”

That was a fair thought seeing as she had no intention of restoring ozai to power. She had used them to challenge zuko and make him grow into the strong leader the fire nation needed. He was soft on enemies, azula being a perfect example, and not wary of friends that could turn on him as they do. 

“Hmph, well I suppose i owe you thanks. Tonight you will leave and discard any sign of joining the movement. Live a life well or not it doesn't matter to me” she hated being in debt to someone. Azula could manage some over privileged fanatics, but knowing she’ll have to get her hands a bit dirty is nice.

“M-my lady i-i-i apologize i meant no offense.  please i-“ 

Azula cut him off. “ you misunderstand. Tonight there’s going to be a … discussion, between the rest of the group. Take this and go do whatever it is you people do.” She flipped a gold piece. She couldn't be bothered to remember if he was one of the wealthy members and what's one gold piece. It was his duty to her to report and that should be rewarded. Flies and honey; perhaps if she did that back then those two. NO we are not going there azula scolded herself. Focus.

The man was still sitting there mouth agape like a fool. Was he processing what just happened? Regretting exposing his comrades? If he betrays her and lets them know she's coming she will live up to the darkness that earned her the title shadow lord. 

“I don’t know what you are waiting for, but go. I have an appointment.”  Azula walked past him. Ordinarily any threat of a stanger betraying her and leading her to a trap would be subdued by their fear of her. Azula learned that was not a guarantee the hard way. Her shoulder aches like an old woman from ty lee’s strike. That wasn’t what azula had heard about chi blocking, but maybe this hit was deeper. 

“FOCUS” azula chided herself “her of all people.  Yes, I did use fear to keep them in line but I was good to her. I tried at least. There weren’t many who’s tears could get to me. Fuck, enough. You need to deal with these fools”

Azula had reached the door to where the cult of ozai held their meeting. A Modest wooded shack near where Azula was. It benefited them to be out of the way and not get attention. Azula paused and thought “alright put on the scary eyes” before making her entrance. You could hear the conversation screech to a halt.

“My lady! Welcome, what brings you? New plans rid us of your brother?” One finally broke the silence. The fool that was their leader before azula had seized control. 

The gaul to pretend like they werent just talking about turning on her. Did they know who they were dealing with? She was no longer princess azula daughter of ozai; she was the god now. 

“Its come to my attention that some of us feel breaking my father, ozai out of prison. Let me clear ozai was a fool who bit off more than he could chew trying to conquer the world. He’s weak now spoiled by everyone's fear of him he lost to a child.”

“You speak out of turn little girl. You wouldn’t be so brave as to say that in his presence!” One of them burst out. 

“Ah, yes the withered old man that has been in shackles for how many years?” Azula genuinely could not remember anymore. “I am a prodigy trained by the finest benders this nation has to offer. The bender that conquered ba sing se. Even with his bending he lost to an avatar that I beat. “ 

Azula wasn’t bragging. This was the fight. Subduing them without having to lift a finger. What happens when azula needs to lift a finger? Well, let's say azula would oblige in earnest. She could tell most of them had already seemed to understand. Any of them try something it’ll end one way. She’d won the fight before they could even try; perhaps she should write a book azula mused. “Azulas art of war”. 

The only one not to flinch was their leader. His smile from when he greeted her did not waiver. He must have something in mind, as he would have no way of defeating her in single combat.

“My princess, perhaps you’re right there is something unclear about our partnership.” He started, as calm as can be. “ you are a talented bender to be sure, but without your father’s backing you’re simply an unstable little girl. Your usefulness is only in name and furthering our reputation.” 

Usefulness? This commoner did not just reference her as a prop in their machinations. This was when azula began to get heated, literally. Around her the air began to warm until the air around her blurred like that of the air around an open flame. The room had become unbearably hot for the others, but azula the dragon she was, could handle much more.

Azula let out a sigh. “Unstable?!? Lets be clear you work for me! Not the other way around. I have seen and done more in life let alone for the fire nation than you will in what is about to become a shortened life!” 

Parts of azula began to catch fire as her rage seethed. Zuzu may have been a lame turtle duck of a brother, but he did show her the usefulness of adapting different bending styles. The fire on her crawled across her body into a sphere in her hands. Though the leader had prepared for a direct strike; azula had something else prepared. She slammed her hand on the floor and allowed the fire ball to be pressed on the ground exploding out in a circle around her. 

The cabin had caught fire and many of the cultists were sent flying into the walls and scattered like the insects they were. Azula had practiced that move for some time and understood why strong earth benders would use an impact like strike like that. It was an effective way to combine offence and defense, and not to mention oddly satisfying. 

Azula may have been willing to kill if necessary but leaving them broken was the better choice. She snuffed out the fire leaving the smoke cloud to cover her exit. That should be a clear message to anyone. Princess azula is done.

Fire lord zuko did not need his shadow lord anymore. Azula hated to admit zuko had become a passable fire lord. The land prospered, and while zuko is about peace hes is firmer on asserting influence in world. The fire nation is still a force to be reckoned with and she was as influential in it as the avatar or that slob of an uncle. There wasn’t much to do here. Azula wasnt sure what the next move was, but there were things that needed to be drawn before action could be taken. 

The palace at the fire nation capital. It was much like she remembered less a gaudy statue of her father. The way the paths lead by lantern fire flowed like a living flame. It was soft enough to have a cozy warmth like that of the hearth. If she missed anything the most of the old princess lifebit was how home loosened tension. This unfortunately was not a vacation.

Her brother liked to sit near the water where the woman and him sat. Only two kyoshi to guard him, I suppose if azula was an average attacker that would do. Azula could already feel the exhaustion this is going to come from this

She waited seated at the spot he typically stops at. 

“AZULA” ah that raspy broody voice is never, not funny. He growls like a cub caught without a mother. “What are you doing here?! Trying to cause more trouble for me to clean up? Trying to take the throne?

“Oh zuzu all I’m doing is sitting here. Come I wish to speak to you, as civilly as possible. I’ll even allow one of your fangirls chi block my arms.

A laugh broke the tension “that's even funnier the second time around azula” that cheery pitch could only be one person. Azula perked up in her seat.

“Ty lee, im glad you’re here too. Wait that sounded ominous. I mean the sight of you is pleasant.” Not exactly how she thought things would go they were supposed to be separate. “Well that’s best anyway it’d make the noodle arm treatment feel less awkward when it’s someone you know.” 

“Hey that makes this easy”  with two jabs azulas arms and therefore lightning wre off the table.  “I just want you to know. I am still scared of you, but that fear makes me want to stop it.”

“Ah-um ty lee… i don’t expect you to and ill understand if you say no but i'd like to speak with you after.” Azulas voice was gentle when it reached ty lee.

Ty lee paused to glance back. She was shaken at the thought. Of course she would be what else should she be? Happy? She said it herself she was scared of azula and you cant have friends with that or they betray you. 

“Lets try this one first.”

Azula was impressed at how ty lee could not only give a non answer and still leave someone hopeful. After the war, thinking through things during training sessions, azula had a new perspective on ty lee. Azula never doubted her prowess for a second, but being such a skilled people reader and least suspect of manipulation. She was everything azula was not and then some. Where azula scanned for weakness ty lee scanned the person. Where azula would use fear to bend to her will ty lee was playing the long game with positive reinforcement. Azula needed her to know that and more.

“There.” Zuko barked. “Now state your business.”

“Zuzu, you’re not meant for impressions, that was the worst ‘father’ i've ever heard. I'm leaving the capital and maybe even the fire nation. “

“Why?” Zuko was confused, what would be her next move. other nations aren’t helpless and its not like Zuko would leave them to her.

“What is there for me here? Zuko, youre the fire lord ive made my peace with that. You were too soft when you first got the throne, and while not all of my actions were always so benevolent; after a while it was about keeping you on alert dealing with the changing world. Making sure you had fangs. Father, ozai, had beat you to submission for so long and only at the end of the war did you begin standing.

“You think you were helping me? Training me in some insane way?!” Azula knew he’d be this way.

“Heavy lies the crown on the head of the ruler zuko. I should know i had it for a couple hours and lost my mind.” Azula chuckled at the memory. A foolish child who had nobody left to manipulate and nobody she trusted, of course shed crack. “You don't have to believe me. Im not sure I believe me. If i couldn't be the fire lord, I'd help mold him, I thought. You're still too soft with other nations in my opinion but you can manage. You’ve proven that.”

“And why tell me instead of just going?” Zuko had began to calm down, perhaps the avatar was rubbing off on him.

“The very reason i had to have my arms chi blocked. You fear me. Sure, you could fend me off with your friends but you know i am not something you would want to face. Now you know you dont have to look over your shoulder, at least not for me.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Zuko lowered his tone. If azula were plotting it could’ve worked here.

“No. I expect the next few weeks you’ll be on high alert. You’ll be upping security in cities and in constant communication with smaller settlements. Most importantly, you will be training. You Want to know that if we cross blazes, you will win. That is why i am leaving that response to an unseen threat? Exactly as a fire lord should be.” He won't look at it practically, at this point what is there for azula to be here. the only reason to keep this up is to take that throne, the one that broke her, it may be rightfully hers but she was not rightfully its. It was owed to her but she was not owed to it.

“Listen zuko, we’ve both seen ozai for what he is. The man who needed his teenage daughter to take ba sing se because he never could. The shortest reigning fire lord who faced an avatar that had only one year of training on the day he was at his peak. He called you a loser, and always asserted dominance because that was the only way to get people to not see the pathetic incompetent man with good enough luck to have me. Looking at you now he missed an opportunity at a useful tool.”

“People aren’t tools azula.” The father talk began to itch at zukos emotional scabs. 

“That was the way of the house, and you never learned that. You were too blind or stupid to think ‘whats the right answer’. That is why i was favored. Not luck, i played the game. Not unlike my friend ty lee, there did with me. She saw me.” It appears that azula had some scabs still too. She felt like her skin was raw and each word was hard to spit out.

“It doesnt matter” she took a breath “it would shame the fire nation anyway having to change leaders every few years. Just take my words and do what you will with them.”  Azula was done, this had already been more a spectacle than she cared for. 

“Ok, now what you stroll out the front door? We should take you in. That’d interrupt your trip. What now?”

“Oh zuzu, you are so on guard still. Good. I’ve an exit lined up out if the way so nobody questions my presence. If you take me in? Why? So i can escape THEN leave? Just extra steps. I dont mind waiting however. I think we both got something from this conversation.”

The air was warm. Unseasonably warm, its him. Azula wondered if this was coincidence or if he made hes own version of her technique. Now azula was tense. Impressive brother, but these are your options. 

Finally, a high pitched intervention. “Uhum, fire lord zuko she also wanted to have a talk with me too. Maybe while you think about what to do with her I can see what she wants to say.” 

“Are you sure? If she tries something.” Big brother of the year hm. Hopefully mai watches her back azula mused. 

“Zuko im a big girl. Plus you’ll be in holler distance. Just keep an eye out.” Ty lee turned to azula. “Im going to sit next to you now, and if you try to bend at me or kick me i will be very upset.” There it was. Azula looked in awe at how she managed to channel a determined child while making it clear there will be consequences for any transgressions. Azula truly was a fool like her father before her, failing to see what’s right in front of her.

“Hi azula. You wanted to talk?” She tried to keep the pep but ty lee couldn’t help but be nervous. Azula was one Of the most dangerous people in the fire nation. 

“I did. Thank you. Even though you know there’s a chance i could actually be up to something leading to you or something or someone you care about because all youve ever seen from me is wrath. So, thank you.”

“Ppft, im sorry azula I really am and you’re right i wasnt sure but that awkward rambling reminded me of that day at the beach.”

“ARE YOU MOCKING ME?! I came here and let you chi block me. Do yoy you know what this feels like? Limp noodles where my arms should be.”

“No, no, azula i swear it just shows there's still some of the good in you. Your aura is less vlack more a...deep watertribe navy blue. Theres also the temper still i see” ty lee tried not to give azula a reason to get heated. 

“Oh. I see. Well regardless of the context tgat was rude”

“Yes it was, sorry.” She gave azula the eyes that always got to her. 

“Its fine. I may have also been a tiny bit intense there.” Azula hated this. She was a prodigy. Which meant apologies and social interaction were unnecessary. 

“Ok. Lets try again. ‘Now state your business’” imitating zukos growl of a voice. It got a genuine laugh iut of azula. It had been a while since she laughed at all. 

“How do you do that? Just lull people into a state of placation and lowering their guards.” Azula regrouped.

“Its not a trick like you said. Well, mostly not. I do watch people and learn what i can, but its so i dont do anything to start upsetting people. And the rest is just i have a calming aura” 

“So you’re just a pure sweet roll in this terrible world?” Azula was proud. She made a quip that didnt sound threatening. That practice wasnt for nothing at least.

“I dont know about that. All I do know is that if we try the world doesn’t have to be terrible.  You’ve changed azula. I can see it. Not just your aura either. You meant at least half of what you said i can feel it.”

“Half? That's more generous than i would be in your shoes. I appreciate that and would love to girl talk i think time’s coming so ill jump to it. I want you to know the same as zuzu. I dont have plans for revenge for the prison. I also wanted to say… im sorry. You may have noticed my opinion of my father has changed and as his heir, his duplicate its making me think i need to redefine me. Clearly our way didnt work. I held you and mai by a leash and when it came down to it who do you side with the leash wearer or holder. I’m sorry it happened that way and what it’s probably done since, but there it is. 

Ty lee remained silent.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me or even believe me. I just thought, you of all people deserved that much even from a monster like me.” The silence coming from ty lee was worse than any words she could have said. Each second of waiting for any kind of reply was tourture. Ty lee was never the silent type, so as expected she probably won’t accept it. That's fine azula didnt need her to; she didn’t need her or anyone for that matter. Beasts dont always have packs, especially the most vicious ones. 

Ty lee stood up and took a few paces. Azula watched and simply thought ‘there she goes. She may be giving azula an out as a courtesy, ehich is more than she expected.

“You're not a monster.”  Ty lee's silence finally broke. Her tone was quiet and somber. 

“Youre not a good person. Youre Probably one of the worst friends I’ve had, but we were friends. I dont know how much to believe you, but you’ve apologized for hurting my feelings before in more casual moments. The time away may be good for you. I tell you what, I’ll accept your apology for the both of us. I’ll know i gave you one last shred of trust and if how things ended truly bothered you it can stop now.”

Azula was stunned. She shouldn’t have been. That reaction was as textbook as azula threatening a subordinate. Azula should be a little more at peace now, but she isnt. It hurts. Here was a kind strong woman who managed to make something of herself and azula was nothing anymore. A vagrant who couldn’t do what she was raised to do for a few hours. Kindness and compassion were underused thongs for azula but clearly they’re good for something. 

“Ty lee” azula choked on the words. How pathetic. How embarrassing. On the verge of tears because she was not a monster to ty lee. 

“ thank you ty lee. I didnt and still don’t deserve your friendship, but i think you did something to me. I dont know what, but something. You may go if you wish. I think i want to wait and see what zuko has to say”

“I’ll put in a good word for you. You called him ‘zuko’ most of the time you talked to him. You're a bit confusing right now but I think that might be a good thing.”

“Ha, oh ty lee you have too much faith in people. I could still be the monster in your closet. Don't ever change that.” Azula needed everything in her to not cry, not in front of them. Not again. Never again

Ty lee turned back to face azula. “And you have too little faith. That's ok though, i may not need to change but I really hope you are.” She smile md at azula. It was a soft smile like the glow of a candle in the night and just as warm. How she could manage a real smile towards azula was beyond her. It was beautiful and it had a way of crushing azula. 

Ty lee was gone. Not far, as zuko still had to be in the garden somewhere. Azula was glad for that she could breath and focus on the next hurdle. Getting out with noodle arms would be difficult but not impossible. They were so put at ease about the arms they didnt think of any attacks she could do with her legs. If it came down to it she would set enough of a blaze to keep them occupied and run to her escape location. 

Zuko and the others returned. He had a stoney look on his face more grim than broody. Azula cant be surprised its bad news, but it was less than ideal. Ty lee stood next to him. Had she kept her word and gave her a chance? Or was that just to encourage me to stay. She had been bitten once and was twice as shy nowadays.

“Ty lee mentioned your talk went well. Im glad you didnt try to kick or bite her.”

“Zuzu, what do you take me for a platypus bear or something?”

“Or something” zuko remarked. It was a fair enough jab azula decided. 

“She told me you seem lost in the world. If this is true, we can help. Theres the beach house so you dont have to interact with people unless you want to. We can get you treated like someone in our family should be. You can help us do good for a change.”

“Where do you people get this faith?! I do not intend on being a ward or high end prisoner. I do not belong here, and cannot promise you I’ll be what you want. For all we know i'll turn on you like i have a dozen times over.” Azula could not tell if he really was that foolish or if she should be offended at the patronizing proposition. “No, if im to become something, someone, else it has to be away from here.

Zuko stood silent for a moment. “Very well, but i want you to know that any action against a fire nation citizen is an action on me. the way you and i have been going for years seems to only have one end so i hope you mean all of this. You may go on the condition a kyoshi warrior shadows you for a while.”

“The ones in the elaborate dresses, white, make up and golden fans? Im sure theyll be like a shadow in the night. Though I suppose it could be worse. If i get left alone they will be left alone, just so we’re clear.” Azula hated being followed, but if its just for a while she can put up with it. 

“They’ll watch and see if you're just up to old tricks. You'll get a head start and they'll catch up so you won't be sure they are present. If they determine youre no longer a threat they will leave you.”

“Interesting proposal Zuko spoken like a benevolent leader. I accept.” Azula stood up, and was a little off balance because of the arms but they began to come back to her. “I… suppose that's it then brother. I’ll do you a favor and make it so my way in cannot be used again. We may not see eachother again, so farewell. remember, you are the dragon not some toothless herbivore. Dont embarrass us.” There was an awkward melancholy to azulas voice. They were never siblings in the traditional sense and she did try to kill him. A lot. Still, it’ll be sad to not get under his skin anymore even just a little. 

“Goodbye azula. I hope you find whatever you’re looking for. If all of this is true my offer will stand.” 

Azula had nothing to say. She couldn’t. She fully intends to be gone, and yet he leaves the door open? It’s embarrassing, its offensive, and somehow its cruel. Azula living the rest of her days in a place designed to make her complacent? No. She may not want the throne but she will not be a pet.” 

Azula nodded and walked away. He was as good a brother as you could get in this family and she was as bad a sister as you could get in this family. That bridge is burned whether he realizes or not. 

Now all that was left for azula was to decide where to go. That entire exchange left her raw and exhausted. Zuko may have had a point, the beach wasn’t far and a small coma would be nice. A stop off there get some nation neutral clothes and see where the wind take her. It was as good a plan as any for now. 

When she finally reached the shore and looked up the stairs to the childhood beach house the exhaustion set in. How long had it been since she slept? More than 24 hours to be sure. Azula dropped to her knees and felt the sand beneath her. Soft, like ty lee's smile. 

“No.” Azula dismissed. Now was not the time to reminisce. This sand was once a rock. It could have been a rock that punctured war ships sinking them to their doom, or a smaller rock cutting the food of an unwitting beach goers foot. Azula was that rock. Was she being worn down into sand? Was that ok? Everything in this world wears down, so why not her? If she could be half of what this sand was, pleasant soft and comforting perhaps that wouldn't be so bad.

[ashleyswrittenwords]

How to be a Queen [Part 25]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

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Part 1

How To Be A Queen

I’m afraid your apologies fall upon blind eyes. The fact that you were able to sneak three letters was a surprise in itself. Please do not believe you have the power to bring your queen to her knees by missing your imaginary quota. We have a mutual understanding of priorities.

Remember, your safety is my everything.

No matter how you prefer it not to be.

Days folded into weeks and I was tied fast to the rolling waves.  

The goddesses willed today to be kind. The skies were clear and though summer was coming to an end, the breeze that rustled the trees was still warm. Hyrule Castle’s grounds are expansive and stretch into densely wooded forests owned exclusively by the Crown. Birds chirped sweet songs from the tall branches alongside the distant hum of the royal apiaries.

I shrieked. A clank of metal cut through the peacefulness.

My thin blade raked against the ground before its little momentum made it favor one side and hit the clay lamely. The backside of my hand burned an angry red and I pressed my lips together to hold a curse. The attacker, who I tossed an evil glare at, laughed gutturally.

“Infirmi vehvi.”

The passing glance turned into a scowl. I straightened, shooting a pointed accusation at Urbosa. “I am not weak.”

The corner of her mouth hiked upward. She even bent down to grab my weapon for me, tossing it my way instead of handing it over. I let out a short gasp as my fumbling hands took hold of the hilt.

“Oh, you’ve been studying!” Urbosa clapped mockingly with her own blade. “A shame your swordplay doesn’t match your academia.”

The sword was heavy in my hand, almost weighty enough that I needed to use both arms. My biceps burned and breath didn’t come to me easily. I let the weapon droop, a particularly undignified stance. “Impa, I implore you to reconsider.”

A tea table with two petite chairs sat at the edge of the copse. It didn’t belong with the scenery and had been drug from the castle several weeks ago. Impa looked up, languish in her movements as she pulled down her spectacles – another quality to her that made her seem so much older than she was. Odd rocks acted as paperweights to hold down the documents before her.

“Certainly, Your Majesty,” she said, dryly. “Inform me of which physical activity you prefer.”

I almost whined. “None. This is counterintuitive.”

“And wasting away in your office is better? No, don’t say your bedchambers because I have caught you time and time against sneaking letters out in the middle of the night,” Urbosa leaned on one hip.

Honestly? Even when I stamped my foot on the dirt and made a child of myself in front of the royal guard, I couldn’t completely disagree. It was mid-August in central Hyrule and for weeks at a time I would go without seeing the sun. Urbosa and Impa had been scheming for this together; forcing me outdoors to play petty games and when I vehemently worked against them under the guise of productivity, they played a hand I hadn’t seen coming.

“Ah, well,” my advisor sat back in her garden chair, towards her work. “I ponder how I should word a castle report to General Forester now that our Queen has given up swordplay.”

“Impa!” I met Anju who nervously shrugged from across the table.

As much as I hated it, Link didn’t need another disappointment. No matter how inferior, especially as of late. The supply line had been established by the time any skirmishes began. Though, from the coming reports, it was a project that was started far too late. Our strength out bested Gerudo forces as they were largely unorganized – at first. The following battles showed their adaptiveness and exposed our own faults.

It seemed that no matter how fortified the supply line grew, there would always be an attempted attack. Seasoned travelers were growing rightfully paranoid and provisions couldn’t be sent in large quantities, which burdened both the army and Gerudo Town.

And worse, the usurper was gaining ground.

Refugees were pouring from the Gerudo capital and, to my horror, learned that they attacked groups with small children. In our correspondences, I had to plead with Link to force one of his admirals to send men to sponsor their treks. There wasn’t opposition in his letters, but the strain in sparing troops was evident.

If they take the capital, then it will give reason to fear they will be able to travel north, Link had written. Fierlin has already proposed to establish a temporary camp by the Great Plateau, but I can’t do that to them now. Not this early on.

By them he meant his admirals, his captains, his men. I understood why Whitehurst had stopped me one day in the halls, admitting something he would never tell his counterpart.

“If you ever doubt our choice,” he had said with an uncharacteristically sound smile. “Nathaniel spoke of him several times after he pushed for replacement hearings.”

Urbosa attempted to bait me into swinging blindly again by lightly touching her blade to mine. Instead of loosening myself to anticipate her attacks, I tensed at the threat of suffering another rude smack to my wrist. The sight made her reprimand me.

“Feet parted!” she shouted, swiping at my feet. I gave a pathetic hop out of an irrational fear that my ankles would be cut through. She would never do anything to hurt me and the action was mostly born of annoyance: I haven’t been the ideal student she had been hoping for.

“Truly, Urbosa.” My voice was shaking more than I needed it to. “This is very harsh on a beginner!”

“Forgive me, my Queen,” Urbosa said without a drop of sorrow. Then, she smiled with a measure of mischievous. “Although you did have the advantage of Hyrule’s most renowned swordsman as your knight attendant.”

“Renowned?” I yelped as her sword clashed against mine. She was holding back, I knew, but my arm wavered under the kickback. “I had no idea that standing beside a person warrants a personal gain of their skill.”

Her response was in Gerudo and I paused our circling to process the words. I had been studying the language during my downtime. Since the Gerudo aristocracy was being housed within the castle, there was no shortage of conversation partners. Some words I couldn’t make out yet the little I could made my face catch a rosy red beyond the sweat that caught my forehead.

“That is entirely unwarranted!”

I swung back against her sword with the strength she had been vying for. It made me curse myself when the pride in her face swelled. Urbosa harked out her triumph, “Translate your emotions into force. Even the most beautiful of desert flowers bare thorns.”

A strand of hair had loosened from my braid and in grew matted against my damp forehead. “Some find my words to be prickly, but my bite has no comparison.”

“Depending on your opponent,” Urbosa nodded as I mirrored her footwork. I was a little shaky, my feet stuttering to match her own while keeping in mind where her eyes were. “Words with a sharp tongue can strike deeper than any blade. However, I think we can both agree that action has more immediate results.”

Our sparring went on until my muscles trembled and the soles of my feet were sore. We weren’t alone either. The notion of a group of noblewomen seeking solitude amidst wartime was laughable at best, outright reckless at worse. The ten men that surrounded us were once apart of my father’s personnel, an inner circle of knights who were both experienced and battle hardened. They were at ease, much to my preference, taking turns scouting the area and sharing a basket of foodstuffs. At one point I had suggested they be allowed to join in the war effort but I was told that my general wouldn’t even entertain the notion when it presented itself.

Still, I did my best to converse with those within the King’s Guard (a name I hadn’t had the energy to bother with changing). They were typically older men with families of their own presiding within the capital; each a story of their own that I would think of in the night when news trickled in riddled with death and carnage.

The victories, despite being so sparse, hadn’t allowed me any reprieve. My whereabouts were a constant reminder of my privileges, luxuries I didn’t feel fit for. Guilt – or was it shame? – made a home in the back of my mind when I would yearn for more than what my power could afford. As with my materials, I was rich in company to dine with. Platters that would never grow scant and goblets that would never run dry.

My father, Impa, Urbosa, and an army of advisors were dazzled by my smiles and ability to save face in adversary. There would always be those against war and my court was not without; all I could do was take it in strides with each evening I entertained the court.

“Any news?” I said to Impa as I maintained a neutral expression. Courtiers twirled about the floor, most were newly returned from the summer harvests and ready to gain favor with their still-new Queen. Little factions of particular lords and ladies clung to the borders of the throne room, gossiping or scheming, I couldn’t tell. But, really, was there a difference?

It almost made me regret not socializing with these people in my youth. Not that Father would permit such free time.

Without turning my head, I heard her make a noise of acknowledgment. “Nothing of consequence, dear.”

Exhaustion was heavy in her murmur. The real question was if that exhaustion was born of current events and from me. I kept the inquiry on my tongue.

“If there is,” I kept my voice low. “Please send them to my room.”

She didn’t need to respond. I stood, acting indifferent to the hundreds of eyes watching me and made my own way to the door. The upside to power was the lack of need to request an exit. Outside the doors was a man of the Knight’s Guard taking leave of another who he was talking to. I nearly felt bad for abruptly ending their conversation.

The knight bowed to someone behind me and Urbosa made herself known in a formal Gerudo fitting; glittering gold that would look odd on anyone that wasn’t her.

“Do you need accompaniment?”

I didn’t need to downplay the tiredness in my movements for her. “No, enjoy the reveling without me. I know how much you like the festivities and all too well of our aristocratic visitor’s tendencies to celebrate nothing until dawn.”

There was a critical look in her eye before it fell to a degree of understanding. We bid one another an uneventful goodnight with a short hug and I made my way towards the spiraling staircases without a care if there was anyone following.

My rooms were a bit tidier than I had left them. The bed was made with fresh linen and my night dress was spread over the covers neatly. Silently, I thanked myself for having Anju teach me how to lace a front-facing corset and let the drapes of fabric fall around my feet. Not long after, I was between the covers already half-way into sleep.

My mind clung onto the little consciousness I had left and I began to feel as if I were missing something. I tensed, the attempt to fall asleep slightly dashed.

He’s not here, I told myself, he’s not here and there is nothing I can do in this moment nor the next. The thought swirled like a mantra, but even then the coldness of the pillow beside me left no aid. A silly notion to miss a moment you felt only once in your life.

Step… two-three. Step.. two-three. Step… two-three.

A waltz, or at least a whisper of one, danced through me and into the movements that were both mine and not. My recollection didn’t come from seeing but knowing that I was in the throne room. It was much different from tonight, emptied and desolate.

“Do I humor you?”

The man with striking eyes was here, the charm of before now replaced with an intimidating seriousness. I wanted to spit venom at this nightmare and tell him he hadn’t broken me after all, but just like last time I wasn’t here to do that. His gaze was glowering, heated with all intentions that dream me ignored.

We took a turn about the room. I tilted my head and blinked up at him, “Only in the ways you hate.”

The words were backed by the knowledge of who he was. Knowledge I desperately tried to learn as I searched his vague outline.

Who are you? Tell me.

There was little response to my utterance aside from the slight pressure on my waist, which only caused a smile to form on my lips – barely there at all. I was teasing.

The pressure disappeared instantly. “You have met him.”

I watched him carefully now, feeling suspicious of his tone.

“We will always meet.”

The man’s chest heaved in laughter. “Yes,” he harked, “Indeed we will, but that was not in the way you and I shall. Never in the manner that he dallies in. We have an… inclination to put aside petty discrepancies, wouldn’t you agree?”

Confusion soured me. It was odd to feel like a third wheel in a conversation I was meant to be partaking in. Words bubbled in my chest yet I seemed to decide otherwise. He made a sound.

“Alas, you need not to tell me. Your ways speak clear that the mortal walks in your steps. Worshipping you like the dog you’ve made him.”

“You have come to mock me. Nothing more? As my children starve under your thumb?” I scowled, itching to say more but biting down on my urge. Already, I had said to much.

“Oh, no, my love,” he spat, “I have come to sing you sweet songs of our future.”

Suddenly, I was taken by scenes from far places. The heat was stifling, so hot I could hardly breath under the blaring sun. There was commotion around me and noise of huffing horses as wagons of supplies were being carried away. A quick glance at myself in my night gown said that no one could see me when they walked passed.

I breathed in the dry air, turning when I heard a particular conversation.

“The transport cases are too heavy for the mules to pull at once.”

It came from a large tent, the opening flap fluttering in a breeze that was just as hot as the air around it. This was unmistakably the Gerudo Desert and my chest grew wanton at the thought of who was inside. The business around me toned down and I took my first steps towards the tent.

My breath rattled uneven in my chest as my thoughts were spoken without the shapes of my lips.

“Why are you showing me this?”

Soft dissuasions beat vaguely against my urge to continue on, but my newfound control of my body and piqued curiosity were overwhelming. I pushed back the tent opening to see a dimmer setting. Light filtered through the canvas and persisted enough to void the need for lanterns. A large table sat in the middle of the space, littered with books and loose papers. Unpacked boxes coincided with the miscellaneous items and at the table, bending over to speak, was a man in uniform.

However, I didn’t pay much attention to him. The one in the chair held me rapt. I was unable to feel the carpet under my feet as I walked further within the tent, not particularly caring about much else.

“Then let’s pull them one by one.���

He was seated with his back to me and now I could make out the unmistakable wheat-blond hair. The man, officer, he spoke to sagged slightly in posture. “But, sir, by then-”

“Burn them,” my general said chastely, “Unless you plan to leave them as a gift to the our Gerudo friends, we either take our supplies with us or burn it. I have no intention of assisting in even the smallest stick of firewood. Is that clear, Captain?”

The tone he employed was foreign to me. Link sat up, looking at him where I could a glimpse of his side profile. My heart ached in a way I hadn’t expected. The man gave a silent sigh.

“Yes sir.”

Without another word, the captain stood straight and walked by me without an ounce of awareness. I swallowed, watching Link lean over what he was working on. Warily, I approached him and studied the way his appearance had changed.

How many months has it been already? Four, almost five months since his departure.

More importantly, how was this possible?

His hair was hardly tamed and seemed to had been shorn with a blunt tool – probably a knife. Ruminants from the vast sands clung from his cheeks to his hands, a testament to his time out here. It was obvious that he wasn’t happy and studied the pages of a book with heavy eyes that hadn’t closed for sleep in far longer than I cared to examine. One of his hands thumbed the next page while the other braced the side of his face as he slumped over the table, a straight seat long abandoned after the captain left.

Link looked far older than he was.

I watched his eyes skim the words and whispered uselessly, “I wish I could help you.”

Blue eyes wandered astray in my direction. I thought they would see right through me as all the others but instead…

“Zelda?”

A breath caught in my throat as his expression of distress morphed from shock to disbelief to a certain relief. “Goddess, Zelda… what are you… what are you doing here?”

Link stood to his full height, clad in uniform and every emotion flashing over him.

“This is a dream,” I immediately said, staggering back. His confusion followed me.

“What do you mean?”

He began taking steps toward me.

“This is a dream,” I repeated, this time more persistent.

It barely occurred to me that we weren’t in the tent anymore. We weren’t anywhere. Link didn’t seem to care. He smiled, reaching towards me.

“I don’t understand,” he shook his head. “I don’t understand, but I don’t have to. I missed you, Zelda. More than anything.”

Link’s eyes held an adoration that I had always yearned for… and yet it was out of place. His hands shook as they closed around my shoulders. “I thought about you every night, Zelda. I crave only you and your light. Your love and pity. I have prayed for a moment like this and here you are!”

“Link-”

“Don’t you get it?” his volume raised sharply. “I do this all for you. I slave for you, I plead for you, I kill for you!”

Then a sickening wet sound cut through his speech. He looked down first and I followed to where his gaze stopped.

Red coated his uniform, staining the midnight blue darker around the tear. Protruding from his abdomen was a silver blade tinged in his blood. I think I might have screamed. He looked back up at me with blank eyes and made a choking sound. Link’s lips formed a word.

I wasn’t in a tent with my dying general. I wasn’t anywhere, but I could still see the image of him dying in my arms with overpouring blood running from his stomach. I wanted to scream. I wanted to sob. Only tears ran from my eyes as the man of my nightmares swung me through our dance.

“A reminder of what I’ve done in the past. A warning of what I’ll do in the future.”

 ---

I had awoken in a sheet of sweat and tears. My throat was scratchy from the sobs of my sleep and I didn’t move to begin my day immediately. I spent the early morning hours curled in a ball on my bed without the energy to cry more nor the exhaustion to fall back to slumber.

Anju found me staring into the shadows of my room and decided to fetch my breakfast from the kitchen for me. While she sat with me, stirring a cup of strong tea in her hands, I didn’t talk about my dream and allowed her to tell me all the silly rumors the castle maids push around. Gratefulness ebbed at me with every smile she pulled from my lips. I still don’t think I deserve her loyalty and friendship.

“Any decent ones about me?”

She took a long sip of her tea, rolling her eyes. “Some ladies of the court fancy a royal wedding. They don’t have much care for wars.”

I hummed my understanding and took my time spreading strawberry jam on toast. “Predictable. I don’t blame them for looking for distraction. I’m sure the bordering lands have heightened concerns with quartering troops.”

My maid paused. “Quartering troops?”

I blinked. It was a dream, I thought harshly. It was a dream and nothing more. Why am I scaring her by thinking it was true?

“I meant for the injured,” I mended hastily. “Transport isn’t so secure until you cross Lake Hylia and some feel more comfortable healing in the towns than traveling all the way here.”

“Ah,” she nodded, “I suppose they aren’t as patriotic as I thought. I get it, though, I would be uncomfortable by the idea too. You know how Kafei and my father feel about taking holiday away from here.”

I breathed a breath of relief.

The remainder of the morning went without a hitch. I hadn’t received any intel overnight and despite my increased pestering, my inbox lacked anything regarding the war to the southwest. It seemed that my mind had fled any sense of reason regarding the mythos of premonitions. I jumped at any counsel about the conflict or how Admiral Byron’s spies should proceed.

I frowned at the sound of another unsuccessful mission. “I want eyes on him.”

“We have been monitoring their encampments for months,” Byron gestured to the war room’s map. “All aspects of their movements are accurate to the square footage.”

Half of the admirals, including Whitehurst and Fierlin, had taken leave early this month while the other end of the cabinet returned to Hyrule Castle.

“That’s not what I meant,” I watched the short man carefully. “General Forester has written that the war prisoners regard him with a reverence of a king. Please recall to me one specification he has recalled for us.”

He rustled through his papers before coming upon one and folded his arms over it. “The one true King of the Gerudo, Your Majesty,” he exhaled, then looked at me with tired eyes. “He is nothing but a usurper, a traitor, of the aristocracy.”

“How am I to react when I have no description of this man? When our men only hear of him as this… fabled legend? I will not accept the prolonging of that,” I sighed. “Do you see where my plight is coming from, Admiral Byron? I realize you’re without a doubt an accomplished man and leader within my army, however this problem still pesters me.”

The man pressed his mouth into a fine line, looking down. “I do. Moving forward I will follow through with this issue and provide you with results. Though I assure you that this Ganondorf is only below you, I will unmask him all the same.”

I bent my head towards him with a smile. “You are will met, sir. Thank you.”

The meeting in the war room was productive and filled appropriate guidelines to send Link’s way. I was pleased to see a familiar face.

“Sir Elian!” I grinned when he approached me after the meeting. “What a pleasant surprise!”

The knight took a short bow with a muddied helmet cradled under the crook of his arm. He must have just arrived in time for the next set of deliverables. I had seen him every now and again lately; his visitations becoming scarce as the war drew on and more precautions were put into place on the road.

“Queen Zelda,” Elian acknowledged kindly. “It seems the news hadn’t arrived yet. I was recently handed down a promotion.”

A conservative smile graced him as he sat on his heels, making the extra stripe on his uniform more pronounced. I clapped my hands together at his bravado.

“My apologies, Captain,” I laughed and voiced my congratulations. He deserved it, after all. There weren’t many that are up to the task of supervising shipments in this climate. “I must attend to Lady Urbosa in the gardens, however you’re more than welcome to accompany me.”

“Why, I could never turn you down,” he acquiesced.

The path from the war room was winding if one wanted to go to the gardens and I was happy to have a companion. I learned from our conversation that the roads were steadily becoming less fraught with ambush but it did little to calm the nerves of anyone who travelled.

“The Rito are slowly warming up to the idea of aerial surveyance. Especially now that we’ve proven to uphold our trade agreements,” I told him. “Their ambassador and Lady Urbosa butt heads constantly during court. It hardly helps.”

Elian chuckled. “I wonder if the threat is the reason why they’re barely trying to thwart us.”

That made me turn to him with concern. “Do you think they monitor that?”

“If the walls have ears, I wonder how they use our secrets?”

I was about to ask him to elaborate when a strangled noise of a shout cut me off. The gardens were around the corner when we heard it.

“Where is she?” a voice boomed down the hall. “Relinquish me and tell me where she is!”

When I realized that Urbosa was shouting over the demanding voice, I gathered my skirts to avoid falling on my face and ignored Elian’s warnings. Once I rounded the corner I saw Lord Ibauna staring down Urbosa’s sword. Guards stood around them, unsure of what to do.

“What is the meaning of this?” I said about their shouting match. Ibauna twisted to me with eyes full of malice.

His fists clenched tightly. “It’s your fault! My brother is dead and it is your fault!”

Lord Ibauna began towards me with a heavy foot, fury red in his face and step. Elian blocked his path with a heavy pull of his sword from its sheath. Two guards wrangled him to a stop before he made it to us and made him kneel. One of the man looked up with question.

“Lady Urbosa?” I asked, looking between her and Ibauna with growing worry.

“He approached me in the gardens looking for you,” she sniffed in his direction, “I wouldn’t tell him where you were because I’ve heard tales of his insolence… then he began insulting your honor, Your Grace.”

“Because you are leading a losing war!” Ibauna yelled, struggling against his binds. “We’re being slaughtered. Don’t pretend, Princess! I have seen the reports and the dead eyes of my family. Give up the aristocracy to Ganondorf!”

I stared, words refusing to surface on my lips.

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” a guard said, pulling the lord harshly back to his feet. “We should lead him to the dungeons for his sharp tongue. At your word, of course.”

I pulled at my fingers and couldn’t look away from his anger. Thankfully, my voice found me. “Who is it you speak of? How do you know that name?”

Lord Ibauna seemed to sober up and watched me with suspicion. “Consider it, Zelda. The very basis of this war is within an area that does not affect us. Send the aristocracy back and let them handle their own mess.”

I considered him coldly and nodded at the guards. He struggled against their hold, “I know who you are, girl! You’re meant to be a goddess among men yet you lead us towards tyranny and death!”

His screams haunted down the hall and I startled when Urbosa sheathed her sword. She gave me a look of concern.

“I suppose our teatime is cancelled?”

“Yes, I – um – I feel a little faint and I should retire,” I said, frowning. My mind worked through his words and felt a feeling I hadn’t since I was a girl. An impossible responsibility setting itself on my shoulders. A crown too heavy to bear. I turned to Elian, “I have another message for you if you wouldn’t mind.”

How did he know that name? The same way Link had learned of it?

Lord Ibauna came from money nearly older than the Crown. His silver spoon kept him from any type of military service that may be passed to an ordinary man. Very much like his family, he sought to gain favor in court circles through ways of blackmail and empty promises; a prime example was his attempted seduction of me at the ball. Everything he did was a double edged sword and when his first plan is rejected, another more devious execution settles into place – that being my subsequent judgement from my father.

The only regret I have now was not wearing more rings on my fingers when I hit him.

My hands were shaking when I reached my quarters. Despite my reassurances that I was fine, both the captain and Urbosa followed me. I asked them to wait outside as I scrambled through my desk drawers for my ink pot and pen.

I was going to write to Link to go through with moving resources back behind our lines. If he didn’t want to transition his men there immediately, fine, but I wasn’t about to let pride put anyone at risk. He wasn’t going to be happy… though there would be a good chance he would understand.

A flash of yellow out of the corner of my eye made me freeze. My desk was cluttered already but the yellow yarn was unmistakable. I forced myself to look at the black button eyes and the mouth the formed a slight frown. My mind tried to process when I had taken it from my drawers. Surely, I hadn’t forgotten. In reality, I had gone out of my way not to see it at all and briefly contemplated discarding it. I rose to my feet and swallowed my nerves, almost completely collected when I saw what the doll laid upon.

An envelope, sealed by red wax, was positioned on the side of my desk. It was in a place I knew for certain had been empty this morning.

Tentatively, I skipped the letter opener and ripped an opening with my hands. The doll fell to the floor. My movements were frantic, shaking, as I scanned the words within.

Someone had broken into the castle to place this in my room.

Someone had access to this wing of the grounds and placed this in my room.

Someone had been in my room.

With my introduction having been made, I patiently await yours.

Ganondorf, King of the Gerudo

[theoscout]

This is a continuation to a story that @bornoffireandwisdom wrote several months ago, and something I continually insisted I would try to finish, because I’m a “good” friend who is “responsible” and “mature” :,)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it when you find it. EXTREME tw for gore by the way. 

It would be difficult to judge the safety of any open area through merely a glance. The sense of paranoia upheld by any hardboiled survivor typically choked them of any sense of true relaxation, even as it provided a vital alarm against the starving, bloodthirsty  which by now far outnumbered them all. The infected did not seek new refuges away from the crumbling buildings, they had little to fear aside from their ever increasing hunger, or the terminating blow of a quarry too lucid to outwit. They typically continued their miserable existances in the clothing they died in, and it was a general rule of thumb among survivors to determine how long ago a zombie died through the condition of their clothing, as the dark force coursing through their contaminated veins always imprisoned them in a state which could only be described as a macarbe mockery of their former selves. Though this did not appear to be a component of common knowledge among survivors, the undead did not decay. The stench which revealed their prescence would waft off the layers of filth accumulating on their skin and clothing through the gory trails they left in their insatiable bloodthirst- . Too many times had this unassuming appearence claimed a life of an unassuming survivor short of realising the danger in a failure to check someone before a greeting.

The figure in the vast, swirling white void strained her eyes against the myriad of specs which clouded her vision and reduced her surroundings to vague silhouettes. If her gloved hands weren't preoccupied with training the battered rifle into the blustery, consuming darkness, she would have been gripping her scraped cloak to her seal the openings to which the piercing gales would stab at her skin. As the abandoned farmhouse began to loom through the icy debris, she quickened her pace.

**

Grant lay curled and shivering on the threadbare carpet, the remaining rooms had been stripped of furniture but this worn sheet was now all that was guarding his frail form against the cruel chill of the wooden floorboards. He convulsed, the necrotic hunger gnawing at him like termites at woods, twisting like a sapient blade into his intestines. Stifling a whimper, he covered his head with his trembling hands and gnashed his teeth. Everything hurt. The bruises he had sustained when falling from the staircase, how the pair he had hunted earlier had bashed his head to rob him of consciousness, the way the rope had cut into his wrists when he had lunged from them as he struggled against their snare, and of course, his final desperate attempt at chewing himself free upon realizing they were long gone. Zombies could not work knots any more than a cat or a dog could, so the complications Lacie and Bertrum had gone to in binding him were few, but they had taken the liberties of making the rope so complex it was nearly impossibly to break from it through pure strength. Still, the violent memory of his prior struggle hung in his thoughts like the festering bloodstains on his clothes.

Quivering from another hunger induced convulsion, the undulating Blurrier than the fish underneath the rippling surface of a pond, he remembered things that no undead should have ever known. Events that the creator and mastermind would have forcefully wrenched from his mind if he knew of, events which would have prevented him from killing another. While others were little more than meat to Grant now, there was something about this particular face that filled him not with hunger and rage, but pain and longing. His trembling fingers numb from the icy dryness and the lack of circulation which comes with laying on one's limbs, he unsteadily reached into the pocket in his jumper which had somehow been deeper and more secure than others. He didn't need to think about the action, it was a move rehearsed a myriad of times prior, in any emotionally distressing moment. He could find his wallet just as he had done so those times before, despite how he could no longer recall the vast majority of times he had consciously done so.

Months worth of bloody fingerprints were beginning to wear down on the photo's visibility, but a near subliminal calling had prevented him from licking off the residue as he had done with his clothes. He didn't want to risk ruining the only contact to the life he barely recalled, even as the reason behind why licking something could potentially deface it had long left his memory. The cameo had one of the faces scratched out, from how he had gripped the slip of paper, in times of grief or desperation. It didn't matter that one of the faces was slowly being rubbed away into the formless pale grey of the backing paper, although in a more lucid moment he may have noted similarities between the clothing and body proportions shared with the figure and himself. No, the one face he cared about the one that stood proudly and protectively to the left of the figure. Like a supporting pillar to his emotions. In the same way the exhileration had coursed through him while hunting in a pack... except less restrictive? No... this face had never harmed anyone. Never asked any violence either. And though it resembled the strange, fast creatures who's veins and flesh were bliss to rend and wolf, this face was not one of them. The thought confused him as much as it comforted him. He needed comfort, in a time when anything unexpected could spell disaster. When it could bring him ruin. The face. The creature it belonged to. He needed to find him. 

And then, from an unseen corner of the crumbling hideaway, he heard something pointed and metal slam into something structural and made of wood.

The intruder did not pay special heed to delicacy or discretion. The next thud shook the building, a splintering of wood following closely behind. The wrenching of frozen fibres split and severed, the resounding crash and clatter of a door thrown to the house’s floor which rattled the windows of the room far above. With some difficulty, Grant struggled through his trembling to a crouched position. His knees bent to spring, his nails digging into the decaying mattress. The zombie tilted his head as a trickle of necrotic energy pulsated through his veins, listening intently. The prospect of quenching his hunger filled his mouth full of froth like a rabid dog.

The survivor tossed her bag to the floor and regarded the door with distain. “Piece of junk,” she spat and gave it another kick, slinging the ice pick over her shoulder. What, were ALL the houses going to have security as shit as this? At least the owners could have attempted some form of barricade, but the possibility that they were merely the early deaths in the apocalypse wasn’t something to be dismissed. Nothing was more effective at dowsing the excitement of a new hideout than the sight of a couple or more corpses bundled up in a bed somewhere, as had been in the previous abode.

The survivor unslung the snow encased bag and kicked it to the side of the doorway, when independent of her cumbersome entry there rose a scuffling from upstairs. She froze, and the ice pick slung over her shoulder found itself poised in her hands. Around the corner the noises ebbed and faded, then heavy footfall on a hollow staircase echoed in the hall. No longer muffled by walls or distance, the footsteps sounded clear and sharp on the verge of the doorway.

Counting since the thing was heard approaching, the survivor landed a devastating, calculated strike on the figure with the blunt of her ice pick before her eyes even had time to discern what it was. The blow landed Grant across his face, splitting the stillness with the shatter of bones. He barely had time to stagger back before the survivor twisted the weapon's momentum and struck again at his torso. The impact sunk the butt into his ribcage and killed his screams, she raised the weapon once more as he toppled over. His side and face in splinters, Grant's struggles to stand were cut out with a kick, the assailant swinging and embedding the pick into his chest like a fang. She pinned him with a stomp and extracted the pick in a spray of blood, swinging again. Swinging repeatedly. Not bothering to see where it landed. It took an instant to wrench it out and repeat the attack, the metal no longer grey but dripping crimson like a viper's fang. Grant's screams and struggles cut short with every blow.

Eventually, she stepped back and slung the ice pick over her shoulder to analyse her results. The feeble movements remaining in its limbs could have indicated it was attempting to move, which was strange. She deduced that zombies could not feel much pain, and besides, what threat could a hole riddled corpse with a heavily fractured skeleton pose to her? Blood gurgled in the mess which had once been it's mouth. She suspected it was trying to cry, but even if enough of its vocal chords remained to form any distinctive noise, the collapsed trachea

Retrieving her bag, she made her way past the dribbling lake of red and began to go upstairs, to a room which preferably was far away from the rest of the snowstorm. It seemed to have subsided somewhat in the time she had been dispatching her quarry, but the breeze was still intense enough for her to shiver. Cleaning the blood off her hands with a handkerchief, she made her way into the recesses of the house. There wasn't any fireplace, much to her irritation, but the upstairs bathroom had a window functional enough to open and a shuttered door in a convenient position to block away smoke but not all the heat, so it would have to do for now. Despite the general emptiness of the area, there were surprising signs that someone had lived here, if only permanently. Where the carpet had been peeling off the floor, an unknown had torn up a large slice and laid it on top of the others. A smaller chunk lay at one end, possibly reminiscent of a pillow of sorts. The edges of the makeshift 'bed' were crusted with blood. She stared at it distastefully before kicking it aside and dumping the contents of her bag on the ground. There were tissues and matches and her meagre supplies... There wasn't much furniture to break, but apparently there was a chair that the owners of the house apparently didn't believe was worth packing up. "Rightio, here's the fire then." It was so rickety that it only took a couple of swings against the tiles to break, although forming it into a suitable fireplace was proving difficult. No way she would waste the precious sharpness of her knife on shredding the waxed wood. After several attempts she cursed and threw the wood to the ground again in disgust, then began to reach for her tissues.

She paused between pinching the match to the matchbox, and cursed, getting up and retrieving her ice pick she began to make her way downstairs. No, actually, it would be a shame if these tissues were to be used on the fire. How was she to know that the wind wouldn't blow them out? Besides, they were something she might need later. She didn't know exactly what at the moment, but it struck her as important. There was time before nightfall, and she certainly had enough time to kill at the moment. The survivor headed back downstairs, ice pick slung over her shoulder. "No..." The protest was faint on the wind, but she caught it this time. It was more of an agonized gurgle than a word, she was surprised the zombie could speak at all. This was one of the more lucid ones that she had encountered. She wondered if that meant it could feel pain more than the others, or remember things.

The zombie was still on the ground. And against all odds, was still moving. It had attempted to roll over onto its stomach and was now in the process of feebly attempting to crawl away. At her approach, the zombie's movements began to quicken with a panicked frenzy, smudging the already ensanguined tiles with more clots of crimson. "No..." Fine, she was right. The thing was lucid enough to talk. And possibly have some degree of self preservation, unlike the others who were too far gone to know that attacking without any regard to their own injuries. Still, she couldn't bear to have the dumb boy making pain noises all night. It might disturb her sleep. The zombie didn't pose enough of a threat to use her pickaxe anymore, instead she reached for the serrated knife typically reserved for wood. It wasn't exactly sharp... but it was enough for her to execute what she wanted. "No-" the dead boy whimpered a split second before her boot crashed into the side of his head. He didn't cry out from the impact, but he curled on the ground like a dying animal and made a noise which sounded like crying. She kicked him again, directly in the neck. She felt and heard something snap. "Quit rolling around and hold still you son of a bitch!" ignoring the corpses protests, she yanked it upright by the hair and began to hack at its neck. The fact that the zombie could still move to push her arms away amazed her. Self regeneration? Possibly. Having the appropriate angle was difficult in the air, so kicking him back against the wooden floorboards, she forced his chest down with her heel and sawed as hard as she could. It's no easy feat to cut through material as sinewy as human flesh, especially as the ruptured veins make the blade slippery and lacerate the area rather than cut or saw. More blood. Great. Its struggled and movement of its mouth were possibly a hint that it was trying to scream, but who cared? She paused to fish out tiny specks of flesh and skin caught between the teeth of her knife, then continued. How far down were the vocal chords and how fast did they take to regenerate? Was making the incision deep enough to hit bone enough to not regenerate? Maybe it would be enough once she heard enough steel grinding on bone.

__

Once more, the corpse lay motionless in front of her. Satisfied with her handiwork, she wiped off her knife and hands with a handkerchief and removed her rubber gloves. There was something in its hand that it appeared to have dropped upon realizing she had entered the room. She bent to retrieve it. A wallet, its brown cover crusted with blood and filth and age. How odd. She pulled out the ID card. Grant Cohen. The kid was 17. No wonder it was so easy to kill, the young ones weren't always made of tough stuff. He was pretty skinny too. Another slip caught her attention as she was busy stuffing remaining slips of cash into her pocket. A photo, printed on cheap paper. It was a well thumbed photo.. of someone who looked like Grant standing next to a stranger. She regarded the bloodstains on the thing with disgust, holding it with the tips of her fingers to avoid contact with the rest. How old and disgusting. But it was a lucky find, this paper would burn very slowly and nicely. So back upstairs went the thief with her pillage, the last reminder of Grant's humanity turned to fire kindling.. and then smoke and ashes.

___

Grant didn't know how long he lay there. He didn't know how long he had been wishing for the pain to end, or why exactly his attempts to scream only ended in unimaginable agony. But in the frosty darkness, he could finally move his arms along the floor. Sliding it against the tiles, his fingers brushed the tattered, moist remains of his throat. The feeling sent a jab of lancing pain through him. He didn't swallow. It had taken a while to put away this learned reflex. But the urge to clear his throat of the liquid was great. Grant did not see the folds of flesh slowly creeping across the tiles and slotting themselves back into his limbs and torso. He didn't see the pools of blood falling towards him, growing smaller and smaller. But he could feel the change. So instead... he waited. Slowly repositioning himself. Arms folded across his chest. Legs together, body straight. It wasn't because of the cold, somewhere in the forgotten recesses of his memory there was still something which called to him. Told him that this was the appropriate position. The final resting position of those who would have fallen before the outbreak... the position they would forever lie in their slumber in dark beds six feet below. And here he lay in the coffin of darkness, his flesh slowly reforming. It felt strangely appropriate. A subliminal part of him felt like doing it forever.

With the return of his health, came the return of his hunger. And with it... revenge. He attempted to stand, but so much as rolling over or propping onto his elbows filled him with lancing agony. With a gasp, he fell back down. Climbing to his feet was no longer an option, instead he focused what remained of his energy into the opening of his swollen eyelids. His disorientation didn't prevent him from realizing the great white stretch of plaster 10ft away from him was a ceiling and not a wall, or that by some mystical force he was somehow pinned upright to the opposite wall. He wouldn't have come to the conclusion naturally, it had somehow been ingrained in him through some hitherto unknown mechanism. His eyes half open, Grant was surprised but oddly calm in accepting that he could now see in total darkness. There was no need to regain his coordination, unlike on numerous other occasions. Turning his head to his right... he located the wallet. No amount of pain could prevent him reaching the felt folder of comfort, and his muscle memory had been attuned to it so long that not even a 90 degree change in gravitational pull could have made him fumble. The blood filtered from the tips of his fingers unconsciously, and so did what sensation remained in flesh numb with necromancy and cold. He set the wallet down and waited in anticipation... now staring at his hands. Every vessel and artery was now exposed clear as day to him, he examined them with a morbid fascination yet without the surprise or wonder typical of such discoveries. seemingly, if he focused hard... yes, that's it. His flesh rolled back from his finger like the bread of a sausage roll, the white tip of his finger bone visible. Grant felt no pain as the tips of his other fingers did the same, only smirked in the darkness as he picked up the wallet. Now he would never need to worry about getting blood on his beloved photo again. He needed that photo.

But with the contents examined and emptied, his satisfactions drained faster than the blood could flow back into his veins. It was gone. Filled with fear, Grant started to his feet. Blood splattered around him as it was displaced mid flow, permeated by the silt and snow remaining on the floor beforehand. It was gone. He needed it. He frantically turned to search the floor. It was gone. He needed it. He struggled against an onslaught of emotions and confusion. It was gone. He needed it.

He rushed upstairs, in his mind a single goal. It was gone. He needed it. He rounded the corner and followed the scent of warm blood. It was gone. He needed it. He bolted into the room, his vengeful gaze falling upon the sleeping figure. It was gone. He needed it. His heavy footfall unsettling her slumber as the blood on the ice pick began to drip and slide off towards him. It was gone. He needed it. He rushed to grab it, the half healed gaps in his legs stabbing him with knifelike pain. His fingers curling around the handle as he recalled how it had once been used against him. It was gone. He needed it. Bolting over, bringing the pointed part down against her skull with a bone cracking smack, cutting off her scream of realization.

Grant stared at the lifeless body in front of him, then immediately dropped to his knees and began rummaging through the bag beside it. His endless drive for fresh corpses forgotten, the only void he felt any compulsion to fill or fix was the empty slot in something he would have once called his wallet. Slips of soft paper were in a packet... all white and blank. Tools which were familiar to him in some way, Holding back a sob, he pulled the great thick sheet covering his fallen enemy and shoved his hands into the smaller holes which were similar to the ones in the cloth surrounding him, the ones conveniently placed closest to his hands. His fingers itched for the thin, crispy material which had comforted him so many times before. Tears, suffused with blood, were beginning to dribble down his cheeks. They hurt his half healed flesh. He let out a cry and covered his face, hastily attempting to clean away the salt from his wounds. It hurt. Everything hurt. It hurt before. Now there was a phantom pain somewhere in him that no amount of rubbing or reaching could alleviate.

Still determined to find his photo, he ran from the room to where the terrible intruder had destroyed his makeshift bed. Possibly hidden beneath the covers? No, it remained out of sight even after they were thrown against the wall. Grant wailed and wailed, running through the rooms and frisking them bottom to top.

The undead had a very poor perception of time, so it must have been ages before he eventually gave in and retreated to his hideout to curl away. His face in his hands, weeping quietly and wishing he had given her the most painful death imaginable. By the time he recalled his agony of almost starving to death at all, the intruder's body had about frozen solid.

It was gone. He needed it.

[volganic]

Eyes like yours

[AO3] || [discord] guess who didnt want to write important things like the next chapter of song? or any of my other unfinished drafts? guess who wanted to write a whole new thing based off a song by shakira? it’s me

Hyrule Castle was under siege. 

In the blink of an eye, monsters and fire laid waste to the green of the undisturbed fields that surrounded the castle. It was terrifying how quickly the pace of battle moved and washed over the Hyrulean forces, but Link moved quicker. Where the other trainees stood by in the safety of the walls of the castle, Link was out in the thick of it, fighting side by side with his more seasoned captains without a second to waste. Every second counted.

It might have been his first time taking the lives of enemies, but his actions didn’t go unnoticed as he cut his way through the waves of the grotesque monsters. The general herself, Impa, took note of how he took charge of the situation; she mentally thanked the three that there was still hope in light of these rapidly darkening times. She marched over to the rookie soldier after cutting through a duo of raid captains that dared to cross her, and planted a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“There’s no time to thank you properly, trainee,” she began as Link turned to face her, “but the princess is farther out in the field. We need to regroup. The only thing keeping us from accomplishing that is capturing one of the enemy’s vital keeps.” The Sheikah’s eyes scanned the field, drawing the Hylian’s gaze as she pointed to closed doors on the other side of the field. “There! I don’t know what is in there, but start there and I will assist you once our men have control of the field. Understand, soldier?” 

The recruit gave a stiff nod and a salute. Impa returned the gesture. “May the goddesses smile on us all.” She turned on her heel back to aid one of their knights in the distance who was beginning to become overwhelmed with another wave of enemies. Link wished he could help there, but the entire weight of the battle weighed on his shoulders with this new task he was given. He swallowed thickly; capturing this keep could easily help them win or lose this war.

Link burst through the large doors of the abandoned fort, finding it seemingly empty. Impa said it was a vital stronghold for their assailants, but there was nothing to show for it; not even a blade of grass was out of place against the pavement. The Hylian’s senses told him to stay on high alert regardless as he inched across the stone path to the other pair of locked doors. His instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong. 

He didn’t make it too far — a sound whizzed through his ears and a heavy spear collided into the ground inches away from where he planned to take his next step. He stepped back reflexively when rocks splintered in every direction, and his sight went skyward to the source. A large shadow of a man stood on the top of the stone wall of the keep. He paced along the edge like a predator, staring down at the lone soldier below — at least, Link assumed he was staring. The glare of the sun shrouded him in darkness, making it difficult to discern certain features. 

The man lurched forward to meet the ground, and Link’s grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. He ignored how heavy it suddenly felt in his hands as he watched the taller man move with grace to pluck his weapon out from the cracked earth. Adrenaline flooded the Hylian’s veins now that he could fully see his enemy: his built physique, macabre armor, dragon-shaped helmet, deadly weapon in hand — everything was set to strike fear into anyone lesser. He steeled his resolve and kept his sword drawn.

The red-clad knight circled the trainee soldier like a lion. He made no movement to strike. It was intimidating how slowly he stalked around him, just waiting for an opportunity to make his move, and Link knew that he wasn’t fooling anyone with an act of bravery. The man tsk’d with an amused grin on his face, watching the blade in the boy’s hand beginning to shake. 

“They dare send only one lowly soldier to take my keep?” His low, mocking tone echoed off the walls, worming into the Hylian’s mind, taunting him. “I do not know whether to be flattered that they finally threw me a bone,” he suddenly frowned, coming to a stop in his pacing, “or insulted that they sent someone not worth my time.” 

In a fit of anger, Link blindly ran forward to strike the man down. Rage cried out of his lungs and filled the silence between them, but was replaced with a cry of pain as his side was struck with a hard kick. He crumpled to the ground and watched his only means of attack be swept out of his reach. An armored boot filled his view before it moved, finding a home placed firmly on top of his sternum. The man’s growling was the only thing Link could hear besides his own strained whimpers as he scrambled underneath his boot, his breath being crushed out of him.

“Pathetic,” the knight hissed, digging his pointed heel into the thick metal mail, trying to expose the fleshier bits of his prey’s chest. Some links of the chain gave out under the rough treatment. Pained cries fell on deaf ears. “You’re nothing but a boy playing a sad excuse for a soldier.” 

Link screwed his eyes shut, trying to collect himself with the combined force of the crushing weight on his chest and with hearing his enemy’s words. It struck a chord deep in him — he was praised highly among the rest of camp for his swordsmanship, but falling so quickly in battle drowned him in shame. It was pitiful that he wished for this stranger to kill him quickly to spare him the humiliation of returning to what would be left of the castle with his tail between his legs, not only failing his general, but all of Hyrule.

Suddenly the weight was lifted off his chest, and Link’s lungs burned with the rush of air. It was all the reprieve he was given when he was forcefully pulled up by the collar of his blue and white tunic, nearly nose-to-nose with the enemy. 

“You must be new to the ways of war,” the knight crooned. “Running headstrong into the fray without so much as a helmet.” He turned the soldier’s head from side to side with his other hand, looking him over with vague interest. “Pity, you are a pretty thing. Stupid, but pretty nonetheless.” 

Link couldn’t hear the words the man muttered under his breath. He was completely entranced with the way how the pointed tips of his eye markings moved over his cheeks with each carefully selected word. It drew his attention to eyes which he couldn’t see from a distance, but with him being so close, the Hylian could see underneath the pointed snout of the dragon-shaped helmet. If he couldn’t breathe before, he certainly wasn’t breathing now.

The man’s eyes were an even deeper black than the paint that shrouded his eyes, an expanse of a void that Link felt so lost in, but he was fixated on the way his eyes seemed to pierce through his very soul, irises swirling of emerald and gold, and even a ring of fiery red along the edges. It was unlike anything Link had ever seen before: so daunting, so primal, feral, instilling fear through his veins —

— but also leaving him awestruck in its own twisted sense of beauty.

A strangled gasp managed to worm its way out of the Hylian’s throat as he was pulled off the ground again by the neck, held an arm’s length away from the enemy. He kicked furiously at the air, the toes of his boots barely scraping against the pavement, being held higher and higher up into the air. The knight laughed cruelly at his struggle.

“I’ve wasted enough time with you, boy.” The air crackled with an energy unknown to Link. An aura of red magic covered the knight’s arm holding Link hostage, striking panic through Link as the temperature rose to a dangerous degree, the clawed gauntlet threatening to burn through his tunic and mail. Another swirl of magic caused his arm to distort into something akin to a dragon’s limb — or at least, that’s what Link could only imagine it being — and gripping the Hylian’s throat even tighter. “I’ve only come to fight worthy foes!”

If the dragon squeezed any further, it would surely kill him in an instant if he didn’t suffocate first. Adrenaline surged through him to fight for his life — have to run, get away, do something! — screaming at every one of his nerves to act. His arms slipped through the spaces between the dragon’s claws, hands desperate to scratch his way out of the other’s grip, red scales flaking off with each futile swipe. Link’s racing heart and panicked breathing filled his ears, falling deaf to the man’s threats. 

A searing pain struck across his left hand even through the leather of his glove. Link wasn’t sure if the light blinding him was a signal that he was knocking on death’s door, but whatever it was, it also blinded his assailant; its rays dared to rival those from the sun. The ground rushed to meet Link’s body as he felt himself drop to the ground again, no longer being held in a crushing choke hold or close to the heat of his enemy. Through his rattled mind and the ringing in his ears, sound slowly came back into his senses, filled only with curses and snarling from the disoriented knight on the other side of the keep.

Link sat up quickly while he had the chance and scanned the pavement for his weapon. If only he had his sword…

“You—” the man growled, rubbing any streaks of light that distorted his vision, “you can’t be!”

“Soldier!”

Quick footfalls approached the two of them, and soon enough, Impa stood between them, hand steadied on the hilt of her blade and shielding the Hylian from any more torture from the red-clad knight. Her eyes stared at their enemy with a piercing gaze, daring him to make another move. 

“Volga.”

‘Volga’ scoffed in response to being called by anything other than his full title. “I am not here to entertain you, Sheikah.” His eyes fell to the boy that lay behind her. “I may have… underestimated Hyrule’s forces. But I promise you this, I will not make the same mistake again.” With a roar and another swirl of magic, a pair of leathery wings stretched outright from Volga’s back. Impa’s stance grew tense as Volga pointed his spear at them — specifically toward Link’s direction. “You haven’t beaten me yet. Next time we meet, boy, I will cut through your shields and mount your head on a pike!”

With that decree and a beat of his large wings, Volga retreated into the sky. Embers filled the space where he had once stood, leaving Impa and Link in a keep that now belonged to Hyrule’s forces. This was the turning point of this battle, but it was far from over.

“The princess still awaits us to regroup. We haven’t won yet.” Impa turned to offer her hand, which her recruit gladly accepted. He couldn’t meet her gaze as he rushed over to where his knight’s sword had lay discarded a few feet away from them, holstering his blade back in its place, half-expecting an earful of reprimands —

Impa placed a hand on his shoulder, much to his surprise. Link tilted his head to look at her in question. The general’s hand pulled his left arm away from his side to reveal the source of the burning pain from earlier, the only thing that spared him from an premature death: the glowing mark of the Triforce on the back of his glove.

“But now that we have found you, perhaps we just might win.”

Link’s fate was now set in stone. There was only one thing that thrilled and terrified him both at the same time: coming face-to-face with Volga again.

[stuffinmymindijustwannashare]

Why is the rate of Violence Against Women (VAW) so high? Why does it even exist? Just because we have vaginas does not mean we exist for others to treat us like objects to satisfy their needs. We are killed because of our body? We are played with for the same reason? It's disgusting. In almost every country, men (not all, but in general) look at women not with respect but with lust and the belief that rape is a consensual act. In India, congress party leaders are stating that 90% of the rape cases are actually consensual sex between those involved in the cases. There have been suggestions made to reduce the marriage age for girls to reduce the number in rape cases. Those with power are refusing to acknowledge their responsibility to protect the women of their country. They instead try to find means to "reduce," which in no way will. The number of victims will be the same. What do you think those who commit the crime will think when reading this? 'The government is pathetic and we can continue without fear,' is what they will think. This will lead to the rising figures and women will no longer be considered as humans.

Oh wait, they aren't already, am I right? I read news articles that say, "Five month old child was brutally raped by her blood relative," etc. This is utterly disgusting and it is one of the many reasons why I am ashamed to be a human being. From a five month old child to a hundred year old woman, no one is safe from literally anyone. Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), rape, acid throwing, online gender-based violence, forced marraige, honor killings, sexual slavery, female infanticide, trafficking of women - the list is endless. I have been told by others to not let this affect me, but how can I not? I always told myself to never be afraid of anyone, whether it be man, woman or animal. I trained myself to learn the art of using weapons. However now, I have sisters and seeing them go off to school is terrifying enough. I don't want them to travel around the world because no matter how prepared we can be, we are attacked when least expected aren't we? A man in a room filled with women is ecstatic, but a woman in a room filled with men is worried, terrified and does not let her focus shift not even once to protect herself.

We scream, fight, kick, protest, and finally plead for freedom but it isn't really heard, is it? We are ruthessly tortured and killed. And those who survive, instead of respecting them, Society blames them for being the victim. Why? Why don't you blame the criminals? Why not blame on the people who play a part in their upbringing?! Oh, I know, because Society plays a part. To not be blamed, Society pushes it towards the victim and dumps it on them. Am I right? "She dressed carelessly and revealed too much skin. It's equal to inviting men to touch her!" Small, inconsiderate, 'sarcastic' comments below videos in social media platforms are enough to affect one's mind. It is enough to contribute to the growth of future law-breakers. And the Law, God I have so much to talk about the Law, but I will keep it simple. Read a country's lawbook. It is either the lawbook that creates a world with peace or the complete opposite. Now, look at the countries (again, in general). There is no difference. The way the laws have been enforced is so pathetic, it is as if they don't exist. People around the world started to observe that Justice was no longer going to be of any help and strikes, protests, and movements begun. Yet, I see no change. All I see is civilians protesting for their rights and governments brushing it off, sometimes, if needed, responding with violence, and later on justifying their actions. If this is going to be the repeated outcome, we have to change our ways of voicing out our thoughts, opinions, fears, etc. We have to make sure it is effective. I am done reading articles that narrate the stories of innocent lives being lost.

[demonwielda]

     Alright, so you all should be used to these metas by now, but here comes ANOTHER one that I now am noticing the differences, and it goes around the Trump Card once more. Now, you all are probably like ‘Wolf we get it, it’s fuckin’ op, lets move on,’ but in truth, unless you read the manga, and watch the anime, and see the differences? You do not SEE the true overpowered ability, and WHY she can only use it one time. And so, I’m here to spill the details down below.

     I will say, I IMPLORE all my followers to read this, but this is a VERY long piece, so take it in strides.

     Alright so, first off, I am going to describe the Animation and then the manga. Then I will finish with the way I interpret the activation for my Akame, because I feel a combination of the two is more fitting. Now I will state, the manga is the one that TRULY matters, but we get to that later. 

     First off, the activation. In the anime, NO ONE asks about whether she does or doesn’t have an activation for her Trump Card, or even IF there is a Trump Card in general. Only in the fight with Esdeath, when she has no choice, does she release it, and the activation is the most interesting of all of them in my opinion. Murasame is known as the one cut killer, none can purify the poison, and the only way to stop the spread is by AMPUTATING your limb. Esdeath in the anime is shown being fast enough to do so, but in the anime, the encroaching poison is much slower. It gives you time to regret before you die. So she only had to act in a split second motion to cut off her arm, but this is the ONLY way to stop the spread. 

     So the fact that Akame not only CUTS herself, and INJECTS herself with the very poison that would take any life, but the CURSE then embodies itself in her, and gives her IMMENSE strength and speed for a limited time, because she overcame and accepts the curse. That was something of an amazing spectacle. And even the quote she spoke while ushering in the transformation was something of a masterpiece,   

      ❝  I've killed countless people...grief, sorrow, rage, resentment...the Murasame remembers all the lives I've taken. I accept responsibility for all of them. ❞ 

     And then, the fighting began. Down below is some gifs I snagged to show off the change better. To which their origin that I found them from is HERE. 

     Now, this was a pretty awesome way to activate a Trump Card, and was honestly the least flashy one of all. I liked it. It fit her, because she is the least FLASHY character of all of them. 

     Now, we get to the Manga version. 

     And wow, the Manga version was my more favorite moment, even though I feel much more sorrow for her having to activate the ability there. So first, the difference in the activation is much more different. In the Manga, she is told that she must cast aside her humanity to unleash it. And when Tatsumi asks Lubbock, about it, that is all that is said. He doesn’t tell Tatsumi what that means, and no one understands until the moment she does. Now, how does all of this happen? We shall now go over it. 

     The final chapters of the manga is nothing short of an all out WAR after the First Teigu falls. It’s Esdeath versus the very WORLD at this point. A million soldiers, and she is perfectly able to handle herself. Soldiers after soldiers sacrifice their lives all just to buy Akame time to seek out a single opportunity to strike. And what is Akame doing this entire time? Circling. All she is doing is dashing through group after group of soldiers, watching, and waiting. Her presence fully concealed in the shadows of the carnage, and her aura gone, all just waiting. 

     And Esdeath is enjoying herself --- as it is Esdeath, so she indeed will. It’s the fight she has been waiting for her whole LIFE! 

     The entire FIGHT was designed to keep Akame secret and secure from Esdeath’s vision. And it worked. Even the losing control Tatsumi joins the fray, and fights...just in time for Akame to land a single strike on Esdeath’s raised up arm as she let down her guard. And the cut wasn’t even that large: it was nothing more than a scratch really. But in the Manga, the poison creeps FAR too quickly for you to amputate before you die. Even Esdeath had no choice but to use Mahapadma, in order to amputate her arm in time. 

     Now, that alone is stronger than the Anime rendition: the poison spread. Once you are cut, you have no chance of amputating it normally. But we move on. Now, she is without an arm, and we get to the true point that I actually do, but also DON’T enjoy about her Trump Card: how is it activated. As we can see in the last panel, Tatsumi is about to strike Esdeath through her Mahapadma, and he is close to the end of his strength. He is beaten easily, and Akame rushes to his side, only for him to attack HER instead. But in the last second, he freezes his whole body up. And BEGS her to keep her promise: TO KILL HIM BEFORE HE LOSES HIS CONTROL FULLY. 

     And she does. She keeps her promise, and plunges Murasame into his chest in his moment of control. And kills him. 

     And with that, Akame unleashes her Trump Card.

     Okay, WOW was this moment heartbreaking...but what came next was worse. This is when we found out the truth of Murasame: why it chose Akame, why it ALLOWED her to master it fully, and WHY she can only use her Trump Card one time EVER! And I will separate the long QUOTE from the rest of this.

      ❝  The countless lives she had taken before this moment...the carnage...the slaughter...the bloodshed...But it was now...regardless of the circumstances, where she had once again thrust her blade into the body of a friend. The first time, it had happened was when she first acquired murasame. If push came to shove, Akame had resolved herself to kill even her own little sister. This type of conviction is what led murasame to strongly acknowledge her as the true owner and wielder of it's cursed blade. Simply put...she had released...it's trump card, Ennoodzuno. ❞

     Wow. Now let’s take in everything we have been told prior of what it takes for her to unleash this ability. She must CAST ASIDE HER HUMANITY, it can only be used ONE time: and now, it is activated by the death of someone close to her. That SHE ended. And that is why it can only be used one time: because it took her, from what we can gather (I have not read Akame Ga Kiru ZERO! yet, as it’s still ongoing and being translated alike with Hinowa ga Yuku!) the death of a CLOSE FRIEND at her own hands. 

     From what I can gather, she was close to the ORIGINAL wielder of said blade, and claimed it by killing him with it. That is why Murasame accepted her and only her now. But, then, killing Tatsumi, that is when she unleashed it’s FULL power. Her Trump Card, resigning herself to dying after this final fight. But putting her all in bringing down Esdeath. And the activation is so much more cataclysmic than it was in the Anime. In the anime, it was just a DARK MIST swirling around her as she succumbed to the poison. In the Manga? She literally ignites in an explosive field of power that FREEZES her foe in her tracks. Imagine that: Esdeath, midst of killing someone, full on FREEZES UP and looks back with FEAR to Akame when she fears NOTHING.

     Already, we see the difference: this Trump Card is one of the strongest ones there is between all Teigu, but we do not finish there. This is just the activation alone. Next? We get to the power it gives off. 

     In the Anime, Akame is able to move at speeds that make her imperceptible to the human eyes. Now, in the Anime, she was already fast, but now she is faster --- and yet Esdeath can still see her. Perceive her movements, and they fight like EQUALS now. It was a very flashy and wonderful fight, I will not lie. But...this is not the case. But here’s some gifs showing it.

     Wow, she’s FAST but seems Esdeath is still on par, yeah? And of course, Akame outsmarts her, using her bloodlust against her and baiting out Mahapadma, and Akame kills her. GGWP. But...this is underpowering Akame. Yes, you heard me: AKAME IS NOT SHOWN AS POWERFUL AS SHE SHOULD BE BY THE ANIME. 

     First off, Akame is just enhanced in aspects of her body in the anime. That is the first HUGE difference. Now, that might not seem that huge, but it is. In the Manga, she literally RADIATED darkness. It swirled around her in a thick smog and was unleashed by her very every action. A strike of her sword, her dashes, ANYTHING. Which is pretty badass, but we move on. 

     Next, her speed: ESDEATH COULD NOT EVEN SEE OR KEEP UP WITH HER. She moved so fast, NOTHING could match it. You could be Sonic or even the fucking Flash, and you are not going to match her speed. (Okay Flash probably could but not without altering time.) She is so fast, she creates a sonic wave every dash, and the human eyes cannot perceive her movements, and the human brain CANNOT react in time. 

     Now, Esdeath had turned to face her originally on the manifestation of her Trump Card. Then turned her attention back to whom she held aloft and was going to end his life. Before she even had the ability to LIFT HER SWORD, Akame was able to DASH FORWARD, and then AROUND for a surprise strike to Esdeath’s back faster than she could even BLINK. And if not for the fact that Esdeath only had to raise her blade a couple inches, she’d have NOT blocked that strike in time. But we don’t stop there. 

     Now, she was just KICKED flying, and in the span of an instant of Esdeath’s thrust, she was able to hack apart her sword MULTIPLE times, while in mid-flight. That’s inconceivable. The amount of speed you’d have to have to even CONTEMPLATE that thought, let alone then act on it, is inhuman. But we still are not done. The last panel shows another bout of speed: ANGLING HER BLADE behind her to GUARD against the hidden spike rising behind her, so she IS NOT impaled from behind. 

     But we still don’t stop there. He’s where we truly see the danger that is in Akame’s speed.

     Now, if you notice, even in mid air, with NO ABILITY to fly, she was able to correct her posture, and turn her upwards launch into allowing her to connect herself to one pillar, quickly use it’s propulsion to LAUNCH herself to each one, and then lunge down at Esdeath. And, Esdeath even saw this coming, and when jumping backwards, Akame’s speed was surpassing hers to such a degree, she STILL lost her fingers from the action. 

     Because she was a half second too slow. If she was any slower, she would have DIED from this single strike. 

     Esdeath is known for being a tactical genius, and so she decides to make an advantage of her own. And how does she do this? She creates a literal BARRIER wanting to keep all others from the fight, but it’s true purpose is not only to shoot out ice from all sides of Akame to wear her down, but she is FREEZING the very air around them to SLOW our dear little Assassin back to speeds she can fight against. 

     Akame is a tactical genius as well, she may be very awkward and very socially inept but when it comes to combat, she’s DANGEROUS. She is VERY intelligent, and she realized what was going on before it was too late. But even then, battles of attrition are in Esdeath’s favor, as well as any other opponent against Akame, as her Trump Card takes a HEAVY toll on her body. 

     Yikes, so not only is Esdeath evening the playing field by slowing Akame by basically freezing her from the inside, but she created a IMPENETRABLE SUIT OF ICE to defend herself. All because she wanted to BAIT our assassin into a full power strike. 

     Akame is known for her speed. But if you know anything about Speed, you know when you add Strength to the mix, it slows you. And that is exactly what Esdeath baits.

     Now, the similarity of the Trump Card shows. Akame is strongest when it first manifests, as that is when she is at her peak of power. But the more she uses it, as we see here, SHE TIRES QUICKLY and loses control of her power. And then, she is no more than just her: just Akame. 

     Now we come to the conclusion of this piece: Ennoodzuno is NOT as overpowered as one may think, but it definitely is STILL the most powerful and dangerous Trump Card of all the Teigu. But it is NOT her strongest weapon or tool. As even when Murasame, directly after that final panel, is SHATTERED, Akame wins the fight PURELY on intellect alone.

     And once more, WOW, that was anti-climatic, but, it was a fitting end. It showed that Akame does not rely on her power. Unlike Esdeath, who DOES. She relies on her powers, on her combat prowess, and gets cocky. She was baited, once more, by Akame, and it lead to her downfall. 

     So let’s pull everything together! First off, Akame is much smarter than people give her credit for. She is a teen / young adult, and she hasn’t had NORMAL education classes or anything of the sort, so she can come off as stupid. But in combat, her EXPERIENCE is where her knowledge comes from, and she is a deadly force. And no matter what her weapon is? She will kill you. The best quote to tend this is down below. 

                          ❝ She may be adept at KILLING...                                     ...but her SPECIALTY...                                                   ...is simply to BURY! ❞

[yugirl-with-dragons]

Arabic AU- Chosen

Another thingie completely written by @aceyugiohdreamer, I’m still so shooketh xD I hope you can leave my friend some nice comments and positive feedback!!!!! It’s all well deserved!! 

---

Yusei was still too tired for this.

He rubbed his face with both hands and cleared the grit from his eyes.

Jack snapped over his shoulder, “Seriously? I rushed all this way out to find you and you’re just gonna sit there like I messed up your damn beauty sleep? You’ve got some nerve!”

Yusei rubbed his temples slowly. “Well you did wake me up,” he muttered. Then he opened his eyes so he could give a sincere smile. “But, it’s really nice to see you again, Jack.”

He started, caught off guard by the sudden warmth in Yusei’s expression.

Aki crossed her arms. “So, he is a friend.”

Both turned back to her.

“Yes,” Yusei answered with a nod. “My oldest friend.”

Jack smirked with a cocky air. He always welcomed hearing he was best or first in something.

“All right,” she said before raising her eyebrow again. “Tell me, though, how it is that you ended up here.”

By then, Yusei’s mind began moving at a lively pace—sleepless nights were not unknown to him, so it wasn’t difficult to adjust—and he found himself just as curious as Aki. If Jack was there specifically to find him, that meant he had known he was there.

How?

Jack still held his sword at the ready, his mind and hands prepared to strike at the slightest hint of threat. Yusei knew that even when he looked distracted or at ease, that training was ingrained in him so deep he wouldn’t be able to help himself: he would attack on instinct before he was even aware of it.

It would be safer, then, to put him at ease.

“Jack, it’s fine. You can put that away,” he said with calm reassurance as he pushed himself to his feet.

But Jack shifted his eyes between them, displaying his suspicion. “You trust this witch?”

His tone wasn’t vicious, but Yusei cringed as if he felt the crudeness of the term personally.

And then he felt the pressure.

“Ex-cuse me?” Aki growled dangerously, the rugs rustling from the disturbance her aura exuded.

Jack’s hands clamped down tighter on his sword, head twitching in every direction as if he was being surrounded. When his eyes returned to Aki, they stared at each directly, the air between them crackling.

Yusei covered his eyes with his hand for a brief moment, sighing as he worked up his patience. Jack’s education had always lacked in nuance and subtlety. Brash, bold action. Strength and aggression. These were the things his father had drilled into him as priorities ever since he was old enough to hold a sword. If Jack didn’t think to tactfully choose his words, it wasn’t exactly his fault.

That didn’t mean there were no consequences.

Maybe back in the nobles’ district there weren’t, since he was the son of the highest ranked general of the king’s army, and maybe he was strong enough to crush any enemy who did get offended by his rough manner of speaking. But here . . .

Well, Yusei was pretty sure Jack was the one at a disadvantage.

He lifted his head and calmly approached until he was standing in the center of their lightning gaze with a hand up to each of them.

“Calm down, please,” he said firmly, and before either could protest, he turned to his friend. “Jack, she’s not a witch.”

“Hn, could’ve fooled me,” he snapped, peaking around Yusei’s head to sneer at Aki. “I saw how she poured out that magic sand that carried you away. And that fire trick earlier. And now this? What else do you call someone who can do that?”

“The high priest of her people that serves the holy Crimson Dragon!” she hollered, widening her stance to glare at Jack with a clear view.

Jack smiled wickedly. “‘Witch’ is easier.”

Aki’s hair suddenly flew up as a gust of wind rushed up around her.

Goddammit, Jack, Yusei groaned in his head.

The entire canvas temple billowed as her wind spiraled within it. Jack had never been taught the value of showing anyone respect—as far as he was concerned, everyone was beneath him and deserved his ridicule.

But Yusei genuinely feared that here and now, Aki might squash him into the sand, or fling him through the air to land miles away with one powerful blow from her dragon.

He probably deserved it, but, well, Jack was his friend, even after five years . . .

So he thrust an open hand toward Aki’s face, silently begging, Wait! and grabbed Jack’s shoulder with the other, giving him a sharp shake.

“Will you stop it?”

Jack seemed reluctant to divert his gaze from the threat before him, so Yusei shook him again.

“She saved my life back there, you know!”

“I never said she was a bad witch,” Jack insisted, though he hardly seemed apologetic.

“I AM NOT A WITCH!”

The wind howled, and the entire tent blew straight up into the air on the rushing wind, exposing them to the open night air. Jack jumped back out of Yusei’s grasp, legs bent and sword pointed forward. Aki’s red glow returned, clashing harshly with the blue-black shades of everything else. Yusei could hear voices and rustling as some people of the tribe were woken up by all the noise, and some figures appeared nearby—curious spectators come to discover the source of the disturbance.

“Aki, stop!” Yusei cried, feeling panic grip his chest.

But if she could hear him, she gave no sign.

The wind was picking up sand from the ground, spinning it around so fast it stung Yusei’s skin painfully, and he could see Jack squinting to keep as much as he could out of his eyes.

Even so, even facing such a threat, Jack seemed unable to restrain himself.

“Heh, maybe you are a bad witch!” he shouted over the wind’s roar, smirking as if taunting her was truly amusing.

And then Yusei flew off his feet, the new gush of wind knocking him to his back several feet away.

Aki’s screech rang in his ears.

Shit! he cursed, scrambling to all fours.

And then he was blinded.

He covered his eyes with his arm, and he heard the wild gasps and cries of the people who had braved the severe winds to come this close.

“The Dragon!” “It’s the Dragon!” “Crimson Dragon!”

A discordant choir of voices sang out with shock and awe, and Yusei lowered his arm to see for himself.

It was back, that long, fiery river of a body, wings spread, jaws wide to let loose its eerie, haunting bay.

Aki’s wind died down. He could see her eyes wide with wonder, her body gone still with reverence.

Yusei was about to be relieved, but something else caught his attention.

Jack.

Jack was . . .

Glowing.

Yusei’s eyes went just as wide as Aki’s.

With another echoing cry, the Dragon slowly faded until the only light left was the red corona Jack’s body emitted.

In the wake of the Dragon’s bay, there was pent silence. Yusei could feel the tension in the crowd behind him, and he could see Aki’s incredulous expression as she stared at the man in front of her. This arrogant, rude, obnoxious, insulting simpleton—glowing with her god’s holy light and favor.

It defied all logic.

Even Jack looked distractedly confused as he examined his own arms and legs. Then, curiously, he switched control of his sword fully to his right hand so he could push up the sleeve—and reveal a mark there, illuminated with its own internal light. Bright red. A bundle of elongated nails curling in on themselves.

Another claw.

The air thickened, vibrating with the people’s amazement. They held back, waiting for permission to break the silence of such a moment, but if they were expecting Aki to acknowledge them, they would be waiting a long time: she seemed frozen in her own bewilderment.

Yusei wondered how long the spell would last, until—

FWOOOSH!!

Everyone jumped.

A giant pile of canvas and red rugs flopped heavily down to the ground.

The tension broke, and with that opening, several people stepped forward, shouting out, “Priest! Priest Aki! That man—that man there—is he another one? Is he chosen?”

Jack turned to the people—probably only just now realizing they were there—then back to Aki, who now had a very hard frown, her expression burning with anger.

With teeth clenched, she answered quietly. “Yes.” Her hands twitched at her side, then balled into fists. “Yes, he is a Signer.”

A wave of excited murmurs ran through the crowd, but even with that, Yusei could hear Aki’s hot voice when she spat, “Unbelievable. Just . . . absolutely, utterly unbelievable!” She spun around and stalked off with heavy, stiff movements, and though her magical glow had gone, Yusei swore he could still see her body radiating with frustration.

Apparently she was going to leave reconstructing the temple for another time.

Just as well. In her current mood, she seemed more likely to set it on fire.

[newstfionline]

Wednesday, April 28, 2021

Canadian beavers chomp down town’s internet (BBC) Beavers have been blamed after a town in the Canadian province of British Columbia lost their internet service for some 12 hours. The provider Telus said that parts of the underground cabling, servicing Tumbler Ridge, had been found in the beavers’ home. Some 900 internet users and 60 TV customers were affected, it said. Telus spokeswoman Liz Sauvé described it as a “very unusual and uniquely Canadian turn of events”.

US marks slowest population growth since the Depression (AP) U.S. population growth has slowed to the lowest rate since the Great Depression, the Census Bureau said Monday, as Americans continued their march to the South and West and one-time engines of growth, New York and California, lost political influence. Altogether, the U.S. population rose to 331,449,281 last year, the Census Bureau said, a 7.4% increase that was the second-slowest ever. Experts say that paltry pace reflects the combination of an aging population, slowing immigration and the scars of the Great Recession more than a decade ago, which led many young adults to delay marriage and families. The new allocation of congressional seats comes in the first release of data from last year’s headcount. The numbers generally chart familiar American migration patterns: Texas and Florida, two Republican Sunbelt giants, added enough population to gain congressional seats as chillier climes like New York and Ohio saw slow growth and lost political muscle. The report also confirms one historic marker: For the first time in 170 years of statehood, California is losing a congressional seat, a result of slowed migration to the nation’s most populous state, which was once a symbol of the country’s expansive frontier.

After Nearly a Year of Unrest, Portland Leaders Pursue a Crackdown (NYT) After the protests have concluded, sometimes in the early morning hours, Margaret Carter finds herself climbing into her gray Toyota Camry and cruising the streets of Portland so she can see the latest damage for herself. Carter, 85, has been downtown to the Oregon Historical Society, where demonstrators have twice smashed out the windows, recently scrawling “No More History” on the side of the building. She has driven past the local headquarters of the Democratic Party, where windows have also been shattered. Last week, she found herself at the Boys & Girls Club in her own neighborhood, nearing tears at the scene of costly window destruction at a place she has worked so hard to support. “Portland was a beautiful city,” said Carter, who was the first Black woman elected to the Oregon Legislative Assembly and is now retired. “Now you walk around and see all the graffiti, buildings being boarded up. I get sick to my stomach. And I get angry.” After almost a year of near-continuous protests since the police killing of George Floyd in Minneapolis, Portland’s city leaders are signaling that it may be time for a more aggressive crackdown on the most strident street actions. Mayor Ted Wheeler last week put into place a state of emergency that lasted six days and vowed to “unmask” those demonstrators who engaged in repeated acts of vandalism or arson. In his call for the public’s help, Wheeler urged people to report anything they might overhear about property destruction plans or boasts. He also called for residents to report protesters who appeared to be disguising their identity and to document their license plates for the police.

California recall has enough signatures to make ballot (AP) Organizers of the recall effort against California Gov. Gavin Newsom collected enough valid signatures to qualify for the ballot, state election officials said Monday, likely triggering just the second such election in state history. The recall against Newsom, a first-term Democrat seen as a possible White House hopeful someday, will be among the highest-profile political races in the country this year. An election is likely in the fall and voters would face two questions: Should Newsom be recalled and who should replace him? The votes on the second question will only be counted if more than half say yes to the first. Newsom won election in 2018 with support from more than 60% of the voters. Recalling him will be a tough sell in the heavily Democratic state where just a quarter of the state’s registered voters are Republicans, about the same number as those who identify as “no party preference.”

Under the sea, out of sight (Bloomberg) A 52-foot long, 8-foot wide submersible hauling 2,500 kilograms of cocaine was intercepted by U.S. authorities in the Caribbean about 150 miles north of South America. Since last October, the U.S. Caribbean Corridor Strike Force has seized a total of 17,000 kilograms of cocaine worth more than $510 million off the coast of Puerto Rico. Increased enforcement has pushed cartels to invest significant funds in transporting their wares under the sea.

Turkey announces “full lockdown” from April 29 to curb COVID spread (Reuters) Turks will be required to stay mostly at home under a nationwide “full lockdown” starting on Thursday and lasting until May 17 to curb a surge in coronavirus infections and deaths, President Tayyip Erdogan announced on Monday. Turkey logged 37,312 new COVID-19 infections and 353 deaths in the last 24 hours, health ministry data showed, sharply down from mid-April but still the world’s fourth highest number of cases and the worst on a per-capita basis among major nations. Announcing the new measures after a cabinet meeting, Erdogan said all intercity travel would require official approval, all schools would shut and move lessons online, and a strict capacity limit would be imposed for users of public transport. Turks will have to stay indoors except for essential shopping trips and urgent medical treatment.

Iran, US warships in first tense Mideast encounter in a year (AP) American and Iranian warships had a tense encounter in the Persian Gulf earlier this month, the first such incident in about a year amid wider turmoil in the region over Tehran’s tattered nuclear deal, the U.S. Navy said Tuesday. Footage released by the Navy showed a ship commanded by Iran’s paramilitary Revolutionary Guard cut in front of the USCGC Monomoy, causing the Coast Guard vessel to come to an abrupt stop with its engine smoking on April 2. The Guard also did the same with another Coast Guard vessel, the USCGC Wrangell, said Cmdr. Rebecca Rebarich, a spokeswoman for the Navy’s Mideast-based 5th Fleet. Such close passes risk the ships colliding at sea.

Israel is committing the crime of ‘apartheid,’ new report says (Washington Post) Israeli authorities are “committing the crimes against humanity of apartheid and persecution,” according to a major new 213-page report released Tuesday by global advocacy group Human Rights Watch. The organization argued that, in terms framed by existing international law, overarching Israeli policy toward Palestinians in the West Bank and East Jerusalem constituted an agenda to both maintain Jewish Israeli domination and systematically oppress Palestinians. Beyond the all-but-dead “peace process” of the past few decades, the organization pointed to the inescapable and unequal reality that defines life for everyone living between the Jordan River and the Mediterranean Sea. “This is the most stark finding Human Rights Watch has ever reached on the conduct of Israeli authorities,” Omar Shakir, the organization’s Israel and Palestine director and the author of the report, told Today’s WorldView. “For too long, the international community has failed to recognize the reality on the ground for what it is.” Shakir added that HRW is hardly alone in arriving at this conclusion. For years, Palestinians have invoked apartheid in discussing the region’s status quo: where an Israeli military occupation governs over many aspects of their lives, where the security and political imperatives of the Israeli government curtail their own rights, and where the expansion of Jewish settlements inexorably entails further Palestinian dispossession.

Virus surge in crowded Gaza threatens to overwhelm hospitals (AP) More than a year into the coronavirus pandemic, some of the worst fears are coming true in the crowded Gaza Strip: A sudden surge in infections and deaths is threatening to overwhelm hospitals weakened by years of conflict and border closures. Gaza’s main treatment center for COVID-19 patients warns that oxygen supplies are dwindling fast. In another hospital, coronavirus patients are packed three to a room. For months, Gaza’s Hamas rulers seemed to have a handle on containing the pandemic. But their decision to lift most movement restrictions in February—coupled with the spread of a more aggressive virus variant and lack of vaccines—has led to a fierce second surge.

Fighting erupts in Myanmar; junta to ‘consider’ ASEAN plan (Reuters) Karen insurgents attacked a Myanmar army outpost near the Thai border on Tuesday in some of the most intense clashes since a military coup nearly three months ago threw the country into crisis. The Karen National Union (KNU), Myanmar’s oldest rebel force, said it had captured the army camp on the west bank of the Salween river, which forms the border with Thailand. The Myanmar military later hit back against the insurgents with air strikes, the KNU and Thai authorities said. The fighting took place as the junta, in a setback for diplomatic efforts by the Association of Southeast Asian Nations (ASEAN), said it would “positively” consider the bloc’s suggestions to end the turmoil in Myanmar but only when stability was restored.

‘Red Tourism’ draws Chinese on centennial of Communist Party (AP) On the 100th anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party, tourists are flocking to historic sites and making pilgrimages to party landmarks. On a street where the Red Army once roamed, a group of retirees in historic pastel-blue army uniforms belt out tunes made famous through countless movies, television shows and other forms of propaganda. Historic locations in Jiangxi and Guizhou provinces—the sites of revolutionary leader Mao Zedong’s early battles, his escape from Chiang Kai-shek’s Nationalist forces in the Long March and the cementing of his leadership in Zunyi—are experiencing an influx of tourists this year as post-pandemic travel returns to China. In Guizhou, tourism in the first quarter of 2021 has already recovered to 2019 levels, local official Lu Yongzheng said. The province, among China’s top tourist destinations, received millions of tourists who brought in billions of dollars in revenue. The rise in tourism is also spurred by a campaign announced by President Xi Jinping in February to educate the Communist Party’s 91 million-plus members on its history and ideology.

Gunfire rocks Mogadishu (Foreign Policy) Violence erupted in the Somali capital Mogadishu on Sunday as anti-government fighters traded fire with troops loyal to Somali President Mohamed Abdullahi Mohamed over his decision to remain in power after his term expired. Mohamed, whose four-year term ended in February, extended his presidency for two years on April 14 after an election deadlock, drawing strong condemnation from, among others, the United States and the European Union, who have threatened to impose sanctions on the country.

Shipping Containers Plunge Overboard as Supply Race Raises Risks (Bloomberg) Containers piled high on giant vessels carrying everything from car tires to smartphones are toppling over at an alarming rate, sending millions of dollars of cargo sinking to the bottom of the ocean as pressure to speed deliveries raises the risk of safety errors. The shipping industry is seeing the biggest spike in lost containers in seven years. More than 3,000 boxes dropped into the sea last year, and more than 1,000 have fallen overboard so far in 2021. The accidents are disrupting supply chains for hundreds of U.S. retailers and manufacturers such as Amazon and Tesla. There are a host of reasons for the sudden rise in accidents. Weather is getting more unpredictable, while ships are growing bigger, allowing for containers to be stacked higher than ever before. But greatly exacerbating the situation is a surge in e-commerce after consumer demand exploded during the pandemic, increasing the urgency for shipping lines to deliver products as quickly as possible.

Ungrounding (Skift) Last year saw the mass grounding of commercial aircraft as airlines grappled with an utter collapse in demand for their services, and in the United States, those mothballed planes are getting ready to re-enter service. At American Airline’s Tulsa maintenance base, idled jets are getting revamped ahead of a summer when most of the carrier’s 1,400 jet fleet will re-enter the skies. Reactivating a single 737 takes 1,000 person-hours and costs about $39,340 in labor alone. That is, comparatively, cheap, at least stacked against the $10 million impairment charge taken for each of the 150 aircraft it retired last year.

[gukyi]

forever and a night | jjk

⇒ summary: the werewolf in the forest isn’t dangerous, you told them, he’s just a boy with beautiful eyes and a heart of gold.

⇒ werewolf!au

⇒ pairing: jungkook x female reader

⇒ word count: 7k (whoops)

⇒ genre: fluff, angst

⇒ warning: graphic depictions of violence, death

⇒ a/n: to the anon that didn’t want angst: i’m sorry!

part 2 of my fear is forever series. sequel to fear in your eyes. 

It’s as if the breath gets sucked out of your lungs all at once, leaving you empty and weak, because that’s how you feel under his piercing gaze, those dark eyes suddenly a lot more frightening than they appeared five minutes ago. Scared, that’s what you are. Scared, alone, and good as dead.

“It’s true?” You somehow manage to utter out, your mouth likely working on autopilot at this point, brain still frazzled. “What they say is true?”

“She speaks,” Jungkook muses, voice honeyed, letting those lips of his curl upwards into a smile. He looks like he’s waiting for the realization to hit you, letting the thought sink in and the dust settle before he pounces, bites.

“You’re a werewolf?” You ask, and you don’t need him to confirm before you’re wrestling your wrist from his hold, tugging free and holding up that stick in your other hand out in front of you, guarding yourself.

“Ding ding,” Jungkook says, and—as if you need any more proof other than the way he seems to growl with every word he utters—he flashes you a grin, and you get a very good look at those teeth of his, sharp and canine and stained red. “It’s a shame you had to find out this way, but you did want the truth. Happy?”

“Less so,” you tentatively speak, slowly stepping backwards, each movement bringing you closer to the forest edge, the clearing that leads to your cottage, safe and warm. But Jungkook knows what you’re doing, smirks with every step you take, and doesn’t hesitate to move towards you every time you inch further from him. He’s played this game before. How many other innocent lives has he taken?

“Now, unfortunately for you, our brief exchange ends here,” he says, cracking his neck and his knuckles, preparing for something (likely your demise). Perhaps, if he’s feeling generous, he won’t string it out, torture you slowly as the life is sucked out of you. Maybe it’ll be quick, like you’d always hoped your death would be. Faster than the blink of an eye. “But even though you’ll forget me, I won’t forget you.”

“Don’t come any closer,” you order, and your voice wavers but you stand tall, holding out the sharper end of the stick right at his throat. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Well,” Jungkook says, emitting a hum of surprise, “that’ll be a first. I’m impressed with you, dearie. You’re not like the other ones.”

“Because I won’t bend to your every beck and call?” You ask, scoffing a little.

“No,” Jungkook says, moving closer. He lets that end of the stick press into the skin of his neck, ever so close to rupturing his trachea. “You aren’t scared.” With that, he grabs the middle of the stick roughly, snapping it in half and letting it drop to the forest floor, scaring the wits right out of you. You jump at the action, shocked by his sheer strength as you stand, defenseless against him. Well, so much for that. You’re half-prepared for death to welcome you with open arms, the Grim Reaper practically staring you down, when he opens his mouth ever so slightly, baring those teeth of his. “Run,” he growls, and you don’t think twice before you drop the other end of the stick and dash, leaving him far behind.

You’re out of breath by the time you reach the clearing, panting and heaving as you place your hands on your thighs, leaning over to catch the air that has left your lungs. A quick glance behind you tells you that Jungkook hasn’t followed you to the forest edge, though that isn’t to say he’s not lurking in the shadows, waiting for you to be caught off guard so he can attack. Better move now than later. Even though you feel like you’ll collapse if you take another step, you keep running, all the way until you’re securely in the comfort of your room, doors locked and windows bolted.

The night comes rushing back to you all at once, making you nearly topple over onto the hardwood floor of your bedroom. You drop to the ground almost instantly, still sufficiently shaken by the events, letting the whirling in your brain steadily come to a halt before you regain your senses. The way the memories flood back is similar to the way you imagine a life flashes before someone’s eyes, when they’re on the brink of death and look back at everything they’ve done throughout their measly time on Earth. The image of the moon, the peaceful forest, then the sound of a twig snapping. Jungkook’s face, flirty, smug, and secretive, drawing you in like he’s probably done with other unsuspecting girls in that forest. The feeling of him whispering against your ear like he’s murmuring sweet nothings, dirty talk. His teeth, and how deep the color of the blood that tints them is. His voice, enticing and tempting and frightening, terrifying.

It’s, frankly, alarming how easy it is to fall into the trap he sets. Like he’s done this before. A thousand times. There were always rumors of a werewolf in the forest behind your cottage, but there was never any reason for you to believe them. Until now, when you’re panting on the floor of your cottage, having just narrowly escaped death from the hands—or should you say, paws—of the beast himself. When you thought of werewolf, you thought of a monster, disfigured and emotionless, one that isn’t human, can’t distinguish between want and need, acts upon its desires. Instead, you got exactly the opposite, a beautiful human, with a charming smile and attractive looks, but a devil behind that grin of his. You don’t know which is worse, but you’re leaning towards the latter.

The townspeople were right, you suppose. Imagine how they will react to the fact that you lived to reveal your encounter with the werewolf. Imagine how they will worry, fear for you, fear that he will strike again. Imagine how they will revere you, the person who finally lived. The one who will bring him down.

It’s past one in the morning when you finally climb into bed, dreaming of nothing except pearly whites stained with scarlet.

The next morning is disorienting, to say the least. You wake up with your head in a daze, still reeling, mind half-convinced that what happened last night was nothing but a nightmare, a figment of your imagination. But the way your windows are screwed tightly shut, even on a warm night like last’s, and how there are faint scratches on your wrist from where he held onto it proves otherwise. You topple out of bed, having seemingly lost all awareness of your movements.

Strangely enough, there’s something in the corner of your mind that’s telling you to go back, see him again, but why on Earth would you?

You eventually head out to the marketplace, needing subsistence for breakfast since your refrigerator is sufficiently lacking in all things food. On your journey, you’re always tossing your head behind you, seeing if perhaps Jungkook is still following you, tracking your every move to decipher the perfect time to pounce, but the coast is clear, and perhaps you’re just a bit on edge.

The townspeople seem to take notice of your stupefied expression, the way you’re practically tumbling over with each step as you browse around for some fruit.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” They ask you, hand placed gently on your upper arm, as if they’re steadying you. “You seem sick.”

“I’m fine,” you insist, picking up an apple and holding it out, signifying that you’d like to purchase it. “Really, just had a rough night last night.”

“Oh,” the lady says, looking sympathetic. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you insist.

A young boy—not older than ten, it seems—gasps, making his mother stop in the middle of the marketplace, right next to you. “Maybe she saw the werewolf.”

Murmurs erupt throughout the building as the words set in, everyone around you finding the werewolf a very plausible explanation for your behavior. But even though you saw him, you don’t know if you want to reveal that to them.

“She’d be dead if she did,” an older man grumbles. “No one sees the werewolf and lives.”

Maybe you should tell them that there’s a werewolf, if you’re breathing evidence that you can, in fact, have a hearty (albeit nerve-wracking) conversation with the werewolf and survive. Maybe they will stop being so frightened, stop whispering about you behind your back every time you step outside the confines of your home.

“I did,” you say before you can stop yourself, and there are melodramatic screams that sound throughout the marketplace. “He’s there.”

“And you’re-you’re alive?” The fruit shopkeeper asks, eyes wide. “Did he do something to you? Bite you? Will you hurt us?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” you insist as everyone backs away from you, the mother pulling her son closer to her torso. You hold out your arms. “See, no marks. I am werewolf-free.”

“Is she lying?” the little boy whispers.

“Wouldn’t you all have heard me if I was bitten? Hear my screams, my cries?,” you ask, reminding them that this is a small town, after all. Surely, if they can hear a wolf howling from that forest of yours, they would have heard your shrieks.

“She’s got a point,” an older woman says, and she’s the revered elder in the town, the one people come to for advice. When she sides with you, everyone else seems to calm down slightly.

“See? The werewolf means no harm. I’m okay,” you insist. “Don’t worry.” With that, you pay for your apple and keep walking, like nothing’s changed, picking up groceries as if it’s another casual day.

You almost don’t go back to the forest. Almost.

Why should you, if the last time you did had you on your knees, knocking on Death’s door? What’s the appeal of the forest when there’s a werewolf lurking among the leaves, one that found you excellent prey? Do you really want to tempt fate again?

But it’s the middle of the day. It’s the middle of the day and there isn’t a cloud in the sky, and if you look into the forest from the right angle you can see the opposite end of it. There’s nowhere to hide in a forest like that at this hour. He even said he doesn’t normally come out during the daytime.

If worse comes to worst, you’ll bolt. Scramble out of the woods as fast as you can, because the daytime gives you the advantage of light, of being seen. Why should a werewolf keep you from lounging the forest like you always had before? If he had seen you before last night, you’d already be dead.

The pros outweigh the cons and the positive experiences greatly outnumber the negative ones, and by the time you decide that there’s no point in staying away, you’re already out the back door, slowly creeping up to the forest. It looks the same as it always has, peaceful, quiet, serene. Like it doesn’t hide a killer in the branches, a safe haven for you and your thoughts. The first step you take onto the forest grounds spells out no danger, the birds are chirping, flowers growing, leaves rustling. You’re hesitant, sure, but the forest feels the same as it always has.

It’s good to get away and clear your mind for a bit, even if the very thing you’re trying to forget resides within the confines of the woods, but daytime is your first security measure, and hopefully your only one.

Even like this the forest is beautiful. It’s always been, when you think about it, and that must be one of the reasons why you keep returning. There’s something mystical, enchanting about a forest like this, the way the fog sometimes lingers for a little bit near the treetops, how the dew glimmers on the blades of grass in the early morning. The woodland creatures that seem to acknowledge your constant presence, go about their lives like you’re not even there because they know you won’t disturb them. The wildflowers that grow in the patches of the grass, little white and yellow ones that dot the landscape. It’s astounding that the townspeople don’t see beauty like this, in its natural form rather than the construction of manmade prettiness of today’s society. It’s amazing that they can’t take things for what they are. Even with a werewolf looming amongst the leaves, sometimes beauty is worth the fear.

“I didn’t think you’d come back.”

You whip your head around to see him leaning against the trunk of one of the larger trees in the forest, a sturdy oak that’s likely lived there longer than your entire town. He’s got a hand stuffed into one of the pockets of his dirtied old jeans, a devious grin to his face. There’s no stick to save you now, but you have a feeling that Jungkook won’t attack today. At least, not right now. Even so, you hold your hands up to protect your face.

“Just because you’re here doesn’t mean I should stop coming to my forest,” you say.

Jungkook smirks, staggering over to you, footsteps heavy and threatening. “Aren’t you afraid?” He mutters quietly. “Afraid I’ll hurt you? Bite you? Kill you?” He asks, placing a surprisingly soft hand around your wrist and lowering it.

“If you say you’ve lived here as long as I assume you have, then you would have already done it by now,” you declare, and even though he’s got a grip on your wrist you won’t allow yourself to falter under his gaze. “I know you’ve seen me when I walk.”

“Smart and fearless,” Jungkook comments, letting your wrist go as he leans back on his heels. Almost immediately, you bring your hand back up. “I’ve never met a girl like you before.”

“And how many girls have you had the pleasure of speaking to before you rip them to shreds, hmm?” You ask, a single eyebrow raised. You expect him to say some sort of sleazy response, something like “a couple, but they weren’t nearly as pretty as you”, a shitty half-assed compliment that you could get from a drunk boy at a bar.

“None, actually,” he tells you, and it makes your guard waver a little bit, that comment does.

“Liar.”

“Werewolves don’t eat humans,” he continues. “They bite them if they’re desperate, but biting a human is like taking a drag of a cigarette. Able to stave off hunger temporarily, but never enough to satisfy it entirely. Not worth it, in my opinion. Not with all of the other animals for me to eat in this forest.”

You’re rendered speechless, mouth wide with some snarky retort on the tip of your tongue, but nothing comes out. Instead, you close and open your mouth like a damn fish before finally stuttering out, “You don’t?”

Jungkook chuckles at your reaction. “Bet you didn’t think that, did you?” He asks, walking circles around you. “Small town girl with big dreams, hung up on stereotypes without actually finding the truth for herself. You think I don’t know why you people are scared of me? Think I don’t know what you think of me?”

“I—”

“You think you’re so smart, different from the rest of your town,” Jungkook says, gesticulating wildly, “but you’re not. Just because you get teased for living near the werewolf doesn’t make you any different than them. What’d you think when I spoke to you last night? Thought I was gonna murder you, bite the flesh right off of your body. You thought that I’d killed people from your town ever since you were born. That’s what you thought,” he tells you, pointing an accusing finger at your chest, “because you never once bothered to step into my shoes.”

To say that Jungkook has left you a little taken aback would be a massive understatement. He’s got you pressed up against a tree trunk, unable to mutter out some sort of defensive statement, mind reeling.

“Looks like I finally got the fearless girl scared,” Jungkook comments to himself, humming softly as he backs away from you. “What are you gonna do now, hmm?”

“I’m not scared,” you say, finally gathering up some of your resolve.

“Not?”

“No,” you declare, fixing your posture to stand tall. “You don’t harm humans. Why should I be?”

“I don’t know, I thought the dent in your ego might leave a mark,” he jokes. “People are normally frightened of me.”

“Well,” you say, and this time you’re the one to step towards him, “if you can prove to me otherwise, then what’s stopping you?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Jungkook smiles, not cockily, not smugly, not devilishly, he just grins, those canines of his showing amongst his pearly whites. He smiles, and he looks just like a boy, instead of a beast.

You never thought you’d meet someone who knows the forest better than you do, but there’s a first time for everything. Maybe you’ve visited the forest almost daily your entire life, but Jungkook’s lived it, breathed it, known it. He’s found places you’d never imagined would be hiding out in this forest of yours, secret rivers and underground caves and wildflower clearings.

“What’s your name, Forest Girl?” He asks as you stroll through the woods together. “In all the time we’ve spent together, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten it.”

“Y/N,” you tell him.

“Y/N,” he repeats, letting your name roll of his tongue. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

It’s dizzying, seeing him in his element like this. The sun reflects caramel streaks in his dark brown eyes, and magic isn’t real but he certainly is. Werewolves were supposed to be murderous creatures, dark and demonic and deadly, but Jungkook is beautiful and strange and wonderful. He leads you through the woods with his hand wrapped loosely around your wrist, traipsing through the fallen branches and grass, smile ever present on his face.

“I didn’t even know this was here,” you admit as he takes you to a tiny little creek near the forest edge, one that empties into a watering hole not far from where you’re standing.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He asks, letting go of your wrist as he settles on a rock nearby. “I like sitting here, listening to the moving water.”

“It’s so quiet,” you say, staring down into the creek, peering at your reflection in the water, watching it warp with the current. “How can you hear it?”

“The forest is quiet,” Jungkook says softly, “when no one visits it.”

His words make you wonder, how long has it been like this? How long has he been alone in these woods, feared by people who don’t even know he exists? You speak up. “I do.”

“I know.”

“Have you seen me?”

“Silhouettes, yes,” Jungkook says, cracking a small smile. “I see glimpses of you, sometimes. A bit of your hair, the edge those Converse sneakers that you always wear when you walk around here. Your shadow against the forest floor, but never you.”

“And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t really think you’d, um, be very open to speaking to a werewolf alone in a forest,” Jungkook says, chuckling awkwardly to himself. He’s reached a hand to the nape of his neck, scratching it like a nervous schoolboy. “And I was right.”

“You try getting jumpscared by someone in a forest at midnight,” you say. “I’m speaking to you now, you know. Alone in a forest, too.”

“And how’s it working out for you?”

You shrug, like you’re genuinely trying to come up with an answer. “I’d say not bad.”

Eventually, you let yourself settle down on the rock alongside Jungkook, swinging your legs up and down in front of you as you both watch the creek, minds somehow buzzing and empty at the same time.

Your visits to the forest have become even more exciting, now that you know Jungkook will be waiting for you at the entrance near your cottage, ready to guide you through the woods like you’ve never seen it before, a new world to discover. There’s something about him that keeps drawing you back, to the point where you’re meeting up with him amongst the rustle of the leaves daily, always making time to spend even as little as an hour together, playing in the leaves.

It makes you feel like a child, nonetheless, the way you traipse through the forest like you own it, even if you have yet to explore it. Jungkook brings a wonder back to the woods that you thought you had long outgrown, and it’s refreshing and nostalgic and charming all at once.

It’s mid-afternoon when you visit him this time, locking your back door with a click to see him standing lazily against a tree at the forest entrance, watching you from above with a fond grin on his face. He’s started to come greet you recently, waiting at the forest edge for the sound of you leaving that little cottage of yours, the metal snap of your door locking as you close it. You send him a wave, and he pulls his hand out of the pockets of those terribly worn jeans to wave back. You meet him at the tree he leans against, rocking back and forth on your toes.

“Hello again,” you say. “What do you have planned for us today?”

“I don’t have anything to show you today, but we can go wherever you want,” Jungkook says, holding out his hand for you to take. It’s become a common occurrence, really, for you to interlock fingers in a totally (alright, mostly) non-romantic way as you scamper through the forest. “So, your call.”

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to show me?” You ask, pouting. It’s always an adventure when Jungkook’s got a place to take you, a hidden nook or cranny of the forest you’ve never seen before. You poke his chest, “A waterfall?” Another poke on his arm, “A treetop?” A final one on the tip of his nose, making him scrunch it up ever so slightly. “A bird’s nest?”

Jungkook giggles at your touch, the simple action knocking that barrier of tough-werewolf-boy right down. “Alright, I might have one final place to show you.”

“Only one?” You ask. “What’s happened to our journeys? Our forest travels?”

“Don’t push it, this place is special to me,” Jungkook chides, grabbing ahold of your hand and tugging you along.

He leads through a path in the forest that you’ve never noticed before, one that ends right before a clearing littered with purple and blue wildflowers. The sight makes your breath catch in your throat as Jungkook stops right in front of it, letting your interlocked hands linger by your sides. How can so much beauty be right under your nose without you even aware of it?

“I didn’t even know this was here,” you say, practically speechless as you let go of his hand to wander through the tall grass, letting your fingers gloss over each flower that rests in your path. “How long has it been here?” You ask, turning back to Jungkook with awe lacing your features.

He’s watching you with something akin to fondness, amazement, perhaps, eyes soft and lips pink. “I discovered it a couple of years ago,” he tells you, joining up with your footsteps. “It’s my favorite place in this forest.”

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, letting your eyes jump from petal to petal.

“It is, isn’t it?” He hums in response. “I’ve never really… shown people this place before. You’re the first one.”

“I’m the first for a lot of things in this forest, aren’t I?” You muse, looking at him. “I’m honored.”

Jungkook sighs, settling down in a patch of grass. “I’d show you the world if I could.”

You both end up lying on your backs amongst the flowers, letting their stems reach over your heads and dance in the breeze.

“What does your wolf look like?” You wonder aloud. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Do you want to?” Jungkook asks, sitting up straight and looking down at you, his bangs flowing in the breeze.

“Can you change at will?” You ask excitedly, eyebrows raised.

Jungkook nods enthusiastically, pushing himself off of the grass and dusting off the dirt that’s settled on his shirt. You allow yourself to sit up to watch the transformation, leaning back on your hands as your palms dig into the forest floor.

“Ready?” Jungkook asks, and you nod, waiting. Jungkook gets on his hands and knees in front of you, and before your eyes, he turns into a wolf. The boy you had known is gone, and in his place is a majestic creature, dark chocolate fur coat that flutters in the wind. You almost wouldn’t recognize him, if you saw him like this, if it weren’t for the gleam in his eyes, the same one that permanently resides in his human form, like he’s got magic in the palm of his hand.

You know Jungkook can’t talk in this form, restricted to barks and growls and hums of appreciation, but he can hear you. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper, reaching over to pet his fur.

Jungkook’s ears flatten at the words, and it must mean that he’s flattered, because pretty soon you’ve got him rolling around in the dirt as you rub his stomach. Wolves are just big dogs, really. Big dogs with pretty eyes.

“Can you do tricks?”

Jungkook growls.

“Alright, no tricks. What can you do as a werewolf, then?” You ask, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

It’s a poor choice of question, because without another moment to spare Jungkook is playfully pouncing on you, knocking you to the forest floor with a gasp as he pretends to tackle you, biting down on the hem of your dress as you giggle, shrieking about how “It tickles! Jungkook, it tickles!” You’re beside yourself with laughter, and when Jungkook thinks enough damage is done, he shifts back into human form, towering above you with a mischievous grin on his face. There’s a solid tear out of the bottom of your dress, a good chunk torn off and discarded on the grass from when he bite into it.

The position sucks the breath right from your lungs as you take in how close the both of your bodies are to each other, his eyes right above yours as he hovers over you, hands placed on either side of your arms. He looks at a bit of a loss for words as well, mouth slightly open with a retort likely resting on the tip of his tongue, but nothing comes out as he climbs off of you.

“Look at what you did!” You exclaim, grabbing onto the fabric from your dress and holding it out in front of you. “I liked this dress.”

“My bad,” Jungkook says, clearly not sorry. “I didn’t know your dress was so fragile.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you don’t really mind about the dress, not as he settles down next to you with a quiet sigh, clearly tired, and certainly not as you take the plunge and move your head to fit in the crook of his neck, watching the clouds above.

You make it back to your cottage before the night is in full swing, thank God, because you need to drop by the marketplace before it shuts down for the day. Jungkook bids you goodbye at the forest edge, because every time you try to convince him to join you for dinner he declines, telling you that the forest is the only place he should be. Today, the adventure ends with a soft smile that lingers on his lips, one that you feel like you should kiss right off, but you restrain yourself, only allowing a light peck on his cheek that has it blooming red once you pull away with a toothy grin.

“See you again tomorrow?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Tomorrow, right here, like we always do,” he confirms, and with that you wave goodbye, walking down the hill towards the back door of your cottage, turning around every now and then to see Jungkook’s eyes still following you home.

You manage to drop into the marketplace in the last fifteen minutes that it’s open, just in the nick of time for you to pick up a couple of things. The townspeople have treated you differently ever since you revealed that you had seen the werewolf several weeks ago, like they don’t trust the fact that you came back unharmed and unchanged, like you’re hiding something beneath the innocent exterior you give off. Like you’ll bite them one day. But they have no proof of that, no proof that you’ll do anything to harm them, and so they are forced to serve you the same as they always have.

“Have you been okay recently, Y/N?” One of the shopkeepers ask you as you approach their table, eyeing the vegetables in baskets placed on top.

“Me? Yes, why?” You ask mindlessly.

“Your dress is horribly ripped.”

You look down at your clothes, only remembering then that you had forgotten to change when you got back to your house after being with Jungkook. The tear is pretty horrifically noticeable, you realize, a huge chunk torn from the fabric without a neat edge in sight.

“Oh, this old thing? Yeah, I got it caught on something earlier,” you fib, not wanting to cause a commotion.

“Awfully big for it to just get caught on something,” another person chimes in from across the way, making you whip your head around and sneer. “Looks like something took a huge bite right out of it.”

You already know what everyone’s thinking.

“Like the werewolf,” the resident Old Man says.

“You’ve seen him, haven’t you? He’s real?” The shopkeeper asks.

“Well, yes, but he means no harm,” you insist.

“Did he do that to you? Bite your dress? Rip it apart?” A woman asks, approaching you carefully and placing a hand on your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, pulling yourself away from her touch. “He didn’t do anything to me. Things just, fall apart, I guess,” you say, holding up the skirt of your dress where it’s torn. Suddenly, you don’t really need vegetables anymore. “The werewolf means no harm,” you repeat, backing out of the marketplace oddly faster than you originally thought you would. “I’m fine.”

The next day, you meet Jungkook earlier than you normally do, the sun not even completely up in the sky when you leave the little white cottage. He’s waiting there, nonetheless, like he just knew you’d be coming around soon. Werewolf powers, you suppose.

He waves wildly from where he’s standing at the forest edge, like you don’t already see him crystal clear, but you greet him back anyway, scurrying up to him quicker than usual.

“Hey there, stranger,” Jungkook jokes.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you respond. “You’re here early.”

“You’re the highlight of my day,” he says, and he doesn’t say it like he’s flirting, teasing you. He says it because he means it, and makes your heart skip a beat (or two, or ten).

“Can we go back to that clearing?” You ask him, and even though there’s several clearings in this forest of yours, you both know which one you’re talking about. “I loved it.”

“Anything you want,” he muses, taking your hand like it’s a natural thing to do and taking you there.

The flowers look different in the morning light. Less vibrant, less bright, like they did mid-afternoon when he first showed them to you. No, in the morning light, when the sun is peeking through the tree branches rather than shining right above them, they’re a softer color. The white in them, bleeding through the blues and the purples, it’s more visible at this time, letting them give off a pastel color reminiscent of spring. It’s a break from the muggy weather of the end of summer that it is right now, and for some reason, walking into that clearing makes you think it’s spring to begin with.

“What do you want to do here?” He asks, reaching down to pluck a dying flower from its stem. He snaps it off right near the tip and looks towards you, placing it above your ear.

“I don’t know,” you admit sheepishly, feeling your face heat up from the simple interaction. “I just wanted to come here.”

“Geez, you sound like me,” he jokes. “I love it here.”

“I love it here, too.”

“Well, what should we do the pass the time until you have to be off?”

“Is there an activity you had in mind?” You ask, letting go of his hand and beginning to slowly make your way through the garden. “Because I just like talking, to be honest.”

“Talking it is.”

And so, you settle down in that same patch of only grass in the middle of the flower garden, and you talk. Jungkook is easily one of the most enjoyable friends you’ve ever had, and the feeling of being near him, with him, is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. It’s frighteningly new, but you like it.

“I’m sorry I thought you ate humans,” you tell him, staring up at the clouds and making shapes with them in your mind.

“It’s okay,” Jungkook says, chuckling. Clearly, he’s not too bothered by it anymore, but you still feel bad. “You didn’t know any better.”

“But I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” you say. “You were right, I shouldn’t have assumed thing so quickly just because that’s what other people say.”

“If I were you, I would have been scared too,” Jungkook admits. “No big. I mean, you’re still here, aren’t you?”

You turn to look at him, and he’s got his eyes wide open with an innocent smile dancing across his lips, like it doesn’t matter how you first met, because first impressions aren’t always the only ones. Certainly not in this scenario, especially. And once again, he’s right. The boy’s wise beyond his years, years of solitude in this beautiful forest making him knowledgeable and intelligent.

“I guess I am.”

“Tell me something about you, then,” Jungkook says, changing the topic. “You’re always asking for my life story. What have you got to say about yourself?”

“I love this forest,” you breathe out, and the sentence makes Jungkook laugh.

“I already knew that,” he says, swatting you playfully. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I love this forest,” you repeat. “I grew up in it, like you did, because I didn’t have many friends and thought that this was my only escape. This forest is as peaceful as it is welcoming.”

“You really love this place, don’t you?” He asks. “You’ve got some sort of bond with it.”

“I want to be buried in this forest,” you admit. “I want it to be my first and last home.”

“It’ll be mine,” Jungkook jokes.

“That reminds me,” you say, the thought popping into your head. “Why don’t you leave the forest? You never want to come to my house for dinner.”

“I’m bound to it,” Jungkook says. “I can’t leave it, the forest won’t let me.”

“You’re bound to it?” You ask, sitting up and looking at him in shock. “You’re stuck here?”

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing,” Jungkook says, laughing as he grabs the flower that fell from your ear when you shot up, putting it back in its rightful place when he sits up next to you. “It’s not. I was born here, and I’ll die here. Wolves have a stronger sense of home that humans do. They can’t just move from place to place like them. This place is my home, and I’ll stay here for as long as I live.”

“But don’t you want to see the world?”

“Why would I need to see the world when you’re right in front of me?”

Your eyes widen when he says that, but he doesn’t give you any time to say anything before he’s leaning over and pressing his lips firmly against yours, making you squeak out a noise of surprise before melting into the kiss. Again with the assumptions, but you had pictured kissing a werewolf to be a bit different than kissing a human, but his lips are just as soft and the only thing that’s any different is how your tongue grazes over those canines of his, but it’s hardly noticeable when it mixes with the thumping in your chest and the blood rushing to your brain. Kissing him is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Kissing him is like magic. Jungkook takes your reaction positively, pressing deeper into the kiss as he opens his mouth ever so slightly, slipping in a little bit of his own tongue before the two of you break apart, heaving.

“I’ve wanted to do that for forever,” Jungkook admits, and his cheeks are flushed a deep red color as he catches his breath.

“Me too,” you tell him.

“You make me feel normal, Y/N,” Jungkook tells you. “I don’t feel like a beast when I’m with you.”

“You’re not a beast, Jungkook,” you tell him, connecting your lips for a brief moment again. It breaks your heart to know that he thinks of himself as a monster. “You’re just a boy.”

Jungkook smiles, and it is as warm and bright as the sun, as all of the stars that light up the night sky. “I love you.”

You hum, resting your forehead against his. “I love you too.”

Somewhere along there, you fall asleep in the grass, head resting on Jungkook’s chest as he softly lulls you to sleep. You don’t know how on earth you managed to take a midday nap, but it’s not much of a midday nap as it is genuine sleep, because when Jungkook violently jolts you away, it’s dark outside.

“Jungkook?” You ask, but you don’t see him anywhere near you. Instead, you catch a glimpse of a furry tail bounding off somewhere, and you quickly scramble up to follow him.

Jungkook’s fast, but his cautiousness slows him down, so you catch up to him with relative ease as he makes his way to the edge of the flower garden.

“Jungkook, what is going—” You ask him, looking down at the wolf before you direct your eyes to where he’s watching a sufficiently angry mob of townspeople, your townspeople, heading right for you. You gasp at the sight of them, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as Jungkook growls beside you. “Jungkook, don’t—”

But it’s too late. Another couple of steps and the townspeople are practically right in front of you, and their weapons glimmer in the light of the moon, silver guns and polished knives in their hands. This is no pitchfork gathering. The townspeople are here for one reason and one reason only, and you have a sinking feeling that you already know what it is. Jungkook’s howling at his point, baring all of his teeth as he shakes with rage.

“Jungkook, please—” You beg, trying to get him to calm down, to see straight, because maybe you can talk them out of it, maybe you can all get home safe and secure, but he won’t listen to you. Not in wolf form. “Please, Jungkook, let me do this. Please,” you say, grabbing onto his muzzle and forcing him to look at you. Even behind all that anger, all that fear, his eyes are still his eyes, Jungkook’s eyes, and so he stays back, still growling, but he doesn’t move.

“What are you doing here?”

“I told you she was a wolf!”

“We’re not here for her, we’re here for him.”

“No, please,” you say, standing up and facing the herd. “He means no harm, I swear. Don’t hurt him.”

“Why shouldn’t we?” One man sneers. “He’s terrorized this town long enough.”

“He hasn’t done a thing,” you insist, guarding Jungkook with your body. “You’re just scared.”

“Scared of him?” Another man asks, like it’s a joke. “We aren’t scared of him. He’s a dog.”

“He’s just a boy,” you plead.

“So? He’s a monster,” the same man goes.

“He’s not a monster,” you say, bewildered that they won’t see what you see, that they won’t hear you out. “He won’t hurt you.”

“Us, huh? What about you?”

“What about me?” You ask defensively.

“You trust him,” another spits. “He’s tricked you, somehow. You’re under his curse.”

“I’m not under a curse,” you declare. “He hasn’t done a thing to me.”

“What about when you came to the marketplace yesterday? With that tear in your dress?”

“I got it caught on something. How dare you accuse him,” You say, repeating what you had said at the marketplace. Clearly, no one believed you.

“He’s dangerous,” the first man hisses. “And we don’t want dangerous things in this town.”

“Don’t do anything to him!” You shout, arms out and guarding Jungkook.

But the man just spits in your face, knocking you down onto the forest floor with the butt of his gun, pushing the air right out of your lungs as you hit the dirt. Without you to reason with him, guard him, Jungkook absolutely fucking loses it at the sight of the men hurting you. He’s jumping on them before you can tell him to stop, to keep calm, roaring and howling as he bites at them. It’s a mistake, and you know it, because Jungkook won’t stand a damn chance against those guns, and even if he gets a couple of them down the rest won’t cease.

“Jungkook, no!” You shout futilely, already knowing he’s jumped into a death trap the second he moved towards them. “Stop! Stop hurting him!”

Bang!

Jungkook flies backwards, hitting the ground with a thud, crushing the beautiful purple and blue flowers that surround the two of you. You scramble over to him, on your hands and knees, and watch him shift into his human form beneath you. It’s only then that you see the wound, a dark red spot right in his abdomen, one you know he won’t recover from. He’s coughing up blood now, letting it tumble out of his mouth and hit the grass next to you.

“Jungkook, are you crazy?” You ask, smiling, like it’ll make everything better. “I told you that I could handle it.”

“I couldn’t stand seeing you hurt,” he says hoarsely, losing his voice with every breath he takes, short and quick. “You don’t deserve that.”

“Look at you, Jungkook,” you say, desperately scrounging around for something to block the bleeding from his stomach, staunch the flow of blood. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” he promises. “I had to protect you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you say, running your hands through his messy hair. “I can protect myself.”

“Guess I know that now,” he jokes, cracking a final smile, bloody and red, but beautiful nonetheless. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks, and the words make a tear fall from your watery eyes.

“Jungkook, no—”

“I love you,” he whispers, and there’s not enough time, not enough time, not enough time, and his eyes are closing and his breath is stopping and his heart is slowing and all you can do is cry, smiling through your sobs as you drag your fingers through his hair, his body turning cold the second the blood stops moving.

“I love you,” you murmur back.

“You love him.”

You turn around to see one of the men staring at you.

“Is there anything wrong with that?” You ask, looking desperately at the crowd in front of you before switching your eyes to the boy next to you. Even in death, he is gorgeous. “Is there anything wrong with learning to love someone like him?”

“Yes,” the man says, and that’s when you see his gun being raised, pointed straight at your chest. “Everything.”

You had always wanted to be buried in this forest, amongst the purple and blue flowers that change colors throughout the day. Next to the boy you grew to love. Perhaps, you will get your wish.

Bang!

⇒ send me requests/talk to me!!

[luke-shywalker]

(Phaslo RP) A Gift From A Wizard~

The First Order.

The name had failed to strike fear into the heart of the Republic, at first. The New Republic had not believed that there was any power strong enough to shatter what it claimed was galaxy-wide peace.

But the First Order had struck the heart of the Republic, whether they had feared it or not. Starkiller Base had reduced Hosnian Prime, then the Republic’s capital, to a mass of disintegrated matter floating loosely in space.

Starkiller Base was no more, now. The First Order had retreated back into the shadows, temporarily, to recollect itself and then—to strike back.

Kylo Ren, years ago, had once been a “victory kid"—one of the many children that composed the first post-Imperial generation. Their parents had lived through the Galactic Civil War; hoped that their offspring would never have to do the same.

Hopes were dashed on the day that the New Republic capital disappeared.

And war begun anew.

“Kylo Ren strode through the halls of the provisional base, turning a cold stare upon each individual that stopped to look at him in surprise. He had been incapacitated for a while due to some rather embarrassing battle injuries. Some were not quite fully healed. But Kylo was not willing to wait any longer than he had to, lest anyone forget his presence. Behind his mask, he almost enjoyed the stunned look of fear that played itself out on the faces of various officers as he stalked swiftly through the corridors.

He had kept the same cloak. It was slashed and singed with the marks of a lightsaber—the one that had no right to be in the hands of a girl, a mere child. He found himself clenching his fists at the thought.

The same cloak, so that he would not forget his failures. Failure motivated him. It drove him to surpass his struggle.

Kylo slowed his pace as he noticed a head of perfectly groomed bright red hair in one of the control rooms.

Speaking of struggle, here was a man who was a constant struggle to deal with. Kylo was aware that, in his own absence, General Hux had assumed the role of intimidator that the former had held with pride. It would be a disservice to allow the general to continue misbelieving in his own importance.

Kylo entered the room swiftly, ignoring the lingering sting of pain in his side and his left shoulder.

“General Hux,” he said indifferently, almost casually in its condescendence, by way of greeting. His mask infused his voice with a menacing crackle; brought it down to a deeper pitch.

Phasma stood off a distance of the large room. Her gaze was sorely focused on her general, the upheld man who looked down on everyone and sometimes even looked like he was bound to fall curses on the Supreme Leader himself. It disturbed her deep down, her loyalty to the First Order didn’t come out of sentimental reason but she knew better than to go against the master that ruled in the shadows. Though, she didn’t have her heart in her work, she earned her title and place, her skill was hardly matched. Whatever reminisce of her past life still lingered, she delved into the duties of being the Commander of the First Order. And she was pretty damn good at it too, being as what some would say a “glorified attack dog”. Of course she would appear as a mindless mutt to many, taking orders and not speaking about them in any other form than to execute them with the finesse of a seasoned soldier. Yet, that did not keep her from having her own opinions of what her work actually entailed. 

Her doubts made her instinctively resist from becoming a drone that only received orders and instead she kept her focuses on the soldiers she commanded instead of on her many swimming conspiracies clouding her mind. Her eyes flickered as the troopers standing at the doorway as they saluted. Her body tensed involuntarily as if it had sense the darker presence of the Sith as he stalked into the room moments after the movement made by the guards.

Yes, she could not have doubts clouding her mind and her vision when she should be focusing on not meeting her demise by the face of her so called “allies”. Any misstep and she would end up where all those troopers lay on the previous Starkiller base. Something she truly didn’t find satisfactory. Her gaze turned back to her General as he turned slightly to glare evenly at the Sith known as Kylo Ren.

Even as her optics missed the underlying tension between the two, she could feel their mutual hatred and mistrust a mile away. How could they defeat their adversaries when they could hardly keep from measuring each other up when in the same room.

She turned her attention to Kylo, there was something far more dangerous about the cloaked man than there was about the strict General. Kylo was erratic, unpredictable in his age. Hux was cold, collected, spitting fire at times but hardly ever unpredictable. Though, she would rather work with the Sith with rage than serve under such a dull man like Hux who only looked at her with contempt and disappointment. She never understood it. She did her job, everything she was asked, she performed well among the other high ranks, yet nothing would ever be good enough for a man like Hux.

Not that she worried about it. Her job, her life was just to fight and take orders. What did it matter that her superiors had a personal spat with her. She wasn’t here to make friends. She was here to defeat all those who oppose order and justice.

If she wasn’t a well trained professional she would have scoffed aloud at the irony of it all. Order? Like Kylo Ren or Justice like Hux?

Snapping out of her thoughts as the tall man spoke, his voice filtering through his mask making it seem distorted and unnatural. His whole appearance seemed distorted in its own way, he was distant and she noticed that he wore his own armor. It was something she understood if nothing else about Ren. Unlike Hux, he seemed to keep a distance of his own self, whereas Hux declared himself in front of all.

But Kylo was weak. Weaker than Hux was. She saw it clearly. His recklessness gave him a sharp dangerous end but through it all, deep down the the bottom of it he was full of weaknesses. No matter how much he tried to keep it hidden, to prove everyone wrong. It was evident even with that mask protecting his “vulnerable image.”

Her lip raised in an almost snarl as she tore her conscious attention away from the thoughts of downgrading the same Sith in the room. She didn’t know much about the force but she knew that they could sense thought. Was she disciplined enough that those thoughts would not betray her?

Again, she shoved the thoughts away. Her focus on Hux waiting for the meeting to start and her next orders to be given. Her random intrigues would have to wait. When the Sith neared where she stood, she saluted out of habit and caught the glare from Hux and his dismissal of her actions. She lowered her saluted stance her gaze switching from Sith to General.

[elijaheva]

Episode 00

All was darkness and desolation. No matter what direction you were looking at right now, the only things on the horizon were nothing but debris of worlds and lifeless bodies. Desolation reigned supreme as the glow of the very last star waned. The universe that would later be known as the Anteverse was in its immediate decline.

This sad fate was the result of an unprecedented event. Long before this horrible nightmare, the Anteverse was composed of different living more or less in harmony until one of them decided to attack others for the most infamous reason: greed. Indeed, each of the planets constituting this universe possessed a more or less abundant quantity of magic or mana. The latter was part of their daily lives and allowed them to travel from one planet to another via specially designed spacecraft.

The first major conflict for the monopoly of this precious resource took place among humans. On their planet resembling the earth but being several times bigger, the latter causes hundreds of millions of deaths. One people dominate the others largely because of the atrocities committed. Sparing only those for whom they bore a certain morbid interest, they massacred any person in their path without distinction as to age, sex or social class. As soon as these people had total control of their planet, they began to exploit all the magic that their world could offer them.

After several years of exploitation, the reserves of their planet arrived at a critical stage. Not being able to wait until the magic is renewed in a natural way because of their ever-greater needs, they launched themselves in a vast conquest of the neighboring worlds. By using the magical connections linking each planet, solar system, or galaxy, they managed without difficulty to find planets brimming with magical energy.

After several hundred years of conquests marked by bloodshed and atrocious experiences, the entity governing the Anteverse had no choice but to intervene. While bloody clashes were taking place on various planets all further away from each other, a strange point appeared just above the main belligerents. Gradually, cracks originating from the latter appeared. All of a sudden, pieces of the sky began to fall before disappearing, leaving behind only a dark horizon.

The different camps stopped temporarily to observe the enormous phenomenon that was taking place above them. It may have been the first time they all saw this kind of phenomenon, but each of them knew it did not sound good. Cold sweat ran down the forehead of those who still had a normal human body. All of a sudden, a humanoid shape appeared in the portal. A teenager dressed in white armor emerged and landed just in the middle of the two camps.

No matter what angle each of the actors of this conflict looked at him, the young man in front of them was nothing ordinary. A phenomenal amount of magic emanated from his whole being. As soon as he turned to the invaders, the other seemed to see a glimmer of hope as those he watched shuddered with uncontrollable fear. Of the ten crystals floating in a circle behind him, one approached his right hand and then turned into a very long sword with a purple blade and on which were found strange characters. He grabbed her and lifted her over her head. One of the opposing generals who followed the movement immediately warned his men screaming. "- Deploy the shields!" His soldiers obeyed quickly enough and extended their palms forward. This will hinder an immense magic barrier of a thickness of several hundred centimeters.

Unfortunately for them, it was not enough. With a vertical gesture, the long sword that was larger than its owner fell to the ground. A huge wave of concentrated energy was sent forward. When she met the barrier, it was totally pulverized, as well as all those who were in his line of sight. The damage was considerable. An enormous gulf, the origin of which was the point of the army, had been formed over several hundred or even thousands of kilometers. In front of such a spectacle, the light of hope grows even more. Cries of joy echoed among the defenders. It was however before the one appearing as their savior suddenly turns against them

In a circular motion, he turned his weapon against those behind him. He made the same gesture and decimated again all those who were within his radius of action. Hope suddenly turned into a hope deeper than the deepest chasm. Fear reigned in the gaze of everyone watching this young man. Some could not even move so much they were paralyzed.

Suddenly, huge balls of fire fell on the young man. The impact caused powerful explosions. Just after that, the sky darkens. Large, very threatening black clouds made their appearance just above the place where it was from the sky. Without warning, several ultra-powerful lightning strikes hit the same spot as the fireballs. The soldiers had taken advantage of the fact that his back was turned to balance all they had as offensive spells. It was like attending a manifestation of hell. There was nothing more than a dome of flames continually struck by lightning. Everyone followed suit and swayed everything he had. Spells all the more powerful against each other fell on the young man. A huge rock the size of a mountain was even swayed.

As events seemed to turn in favor of the attackers, unprecedented pressure suddenly appeared. She was so strong that she immediately paralyzed everyone. Several rays of energy emerged from all directions and struck everyone in his wake. Cries of pain and agony rang out from all directions. One of the soldiers looking in the direction of the flames caught the gaze of the one who was issuing all these attacks and did not come back from what he saw. This one whose eyes were totally white showed a huge smile. He seemed to enjoy doing what he was doing.

The young man raised his sword again above him. The latter had shrunk to a reasonable size now had flames of the same color as the blade. At the same time, two strange luminous spheres had also appeared behind him. As everyone followed the movement of the weapon with one of the eyes filled with despair, the tip of the blade stopped a few millimeters from the ground. The young man stopped abruptly and began to look up at the sky. All the pressure he exerted so far also disappeared. All of a sudden, he began to speak with an invisible being. "- What? .... Of course, I'm going to perform .... I was just having a little fun ... Ok, I'll do it right now ..," These were the words he uttered during this moment.

After he had finished talking, the young man looked back at the attentive observers at the slightest of his movements. He dropped his sword turned into crystal before taking his place in his back. He then brought his hands closer than ten centimeters apart. A sphere of red energy appeared just after. The latter later became yellow before turning white. One of the surviving generals who observed the phenomenon immediately understood what it was. Therefore, he ordered the retreat of all the soldiers on the field. "Everyone, run away immediately if you want to live," he cried out loudly. The soldiers hardly had time to think and did so immediately. The adversary side, which also observed the movements of the young man and the invaders, did the same thing as the latter.

Everyone was running either towards the spacecraft or as far as possible from this dreadful thing that was coming. For its part, the preparations were over. He removed his hands and the sphere began a slow descent to the ground. Another portal opened a few meters behind him. The young man finds himself, walked towards the gate and cross it. It closed just after he borrowed it.

Meanwhile, the white sphere continued its course towards the ground. The movement was so slow that many invaders had time to rejoin their ships and begin the take-off phase. Unfortunately for everyone present, it was already too late. When the ball touched the surface of the ground, a huge explosion took place and a wall of pure white light dispersed uniformly in all directions. A soldier who ran for his life was caught in the middle and was totally disintegrated while uttering cries of pain and agony. The energy spread first over the entire surface of the planet, destroying and killing men, women, children, buildings, and even spacecraft. Nothing survived there, not even the planet itself. The phenomenon continued to expand exponentially to the entire solar system, destroying at the same time the rest of the fleet that had not been warned.

Identical phenomena occurred on every planet invaded by these corrupted humans. Each time, it was the same thing. A kind of human sometimes with several pairs of wings appeared on the battlefield and destroyed everything without distinction. In the end, all the invaders and invaders were annihilated. When there was no longer any human coming from the people, the entity governing the Anteverse took a radical decision. In order for no other such event to happen again, she simply decided to destroy the Anteverse. She ordered her envoys to retire before carrying out her plan. A huge surge of magical energy took place in the center of the Anteverse. The latter spread at unprecedented speed to the confines of this universe. All without exception was destroyed in its path, leaving only debris and a dying star. As soon as it was extinguished, the cold of desolation and death fell.

A long-time passed since this tragic event which cost the lives of all life forms of the Anteversa. The darkness and the cold had imposed their reign. Suddenly, a spark springs out of nowhere, followed by an explosion. A new big bang had just happened and announced the birth of a new universe: the Alphaverse. This time, in order to make sure that the mistakes of the past did not happen again, the regent decided to set up surveillance systems and a special faction to intervene when necessary.

Hundreds of billions of years after the revival of everything, our story began on a certain planet with a certain young man. It was the beginning of an adventure through joy, pain, and sadness.

[thisdaynews]

Democrats’ reckoning on race comes to Detroit

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/democrats-reckoning-on-race-comes-to-detroit/

Democrats’ reckoning on race comes to Detroit

Julián Castro and Sen. Cory Booker speak during the first Democratic presidential debate in June. Both candidates will appear in Wednesday night’s debate.

2020 democratic debates

The party’s struggles on race and identity — how to respond to Donald Trump’s nativist appeals as well as their own pasts — come under the spotlight.

DETROIT — Tonight’s Democratic debate will be the first time in presidential campaign history that the majority of participants aren’t white.

And the timing couldn’t be more striking.

Story Continued Below

A reckoning inside the Democratic Party on racial identity is underway, as President Donald Trump unleashes racist tweets, attacking lawmakers of color and stoking fear among his base about primarily Latino immigrants. But Democrats are being forced to examine their own pasts, too — namely the party’s role in implementing policies that disproportionately hurt minorities for generations.

Former Vice President Joe Biden will stand between Sens. Kamala Harris (D-Calif.) and Cory Booker (D-N.J.), who are black. They’ll be joined by former Housing and Urban Development Secretary Julián Castro, the only Latino in the race, as well as Andrew Yang and Tulsi Gabbard, who are of Asian and Pacific Islander descent, respectively.

Booker, Harris, and Castro have attacked Biden in recent weeks over his record on criminal justice, busing, and immigration. But Biden has signaled he’s willing to hit back.

Booker’s stewardship of the Newark police department and Harris’ record as a prosecutor are potential flashpoints in the debate. The potential showdown is something then-presidential candidate Jesse Jackson could have only dreamed of in 1984 and 1988 when he tried to put race and black voters front and center.

“Black voters are no longer allowing you to give lip service, are no longer allowing you to do photo-ops or show up at the church the weekend before,” said former South Carolina state Rep. Bakari Sellers, whose father worked on Jackson’s campaign and who supports Harris’ presidential bid. “There’s a lot of parallels to ‘88 and what Jesse attempted to do, and what Jesse attempted to do has come to fruition.”

The explicit debate around racial disparities is both about appealing to voters of color who are critical in the Democratic primary and addressing white liberals who have dramatically shifted on issues relating to race during the Obama and Trump eras, surveys and polling have shown.

“Race is an issue that historically everyone has turned away from unless they are creating this fear of the other, so for Democrats to be tackling that head on in a very diverse city is very very important,” said Laurie Pohutsky, a newly-elected 31-year-old Michigan state rep who won her district by 223 votes in 2018. “It shows that we are actually beginning to acknowledge the people who have done the majority of the work for the Democratic Party. And I say that as a white woman.”

But it also concerns Democrats’ response to Trump and the moral question he’s laid at their feet: Do they subscribe to conventional wisdom that talking excessively about black and brown voters will hurt them in a general election — or define their campaign by overtly addressing race and challenging Trump’s politics of white grievance.

“[Trump] frankly has juiced the issue of race as a political mechanism to motivate and inspire a portion of his base,” said former Tallahassee Mayor Andrew Gillum. He summed up the president’s message as, “‘‘I’m one of you, I’m your guy — I’m the one who’s going to chase out black and brown people.’”

And for Democrats, Gillum added, it’s “not going to be good enough to just say the past is the past.”

Democrats’ ability to speak to minority communities, specifically black voters, could determine their ability to win in a state like Michigan. Trump won the state by just 11,000 votes in 2016. and in Detroit, where black people make up about 80 percent of the population, roughly 42,000 eligible voters sat out the election.

The emergence of race as a defining issue in Democratic presidential primaries began in 2016 when Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders were repeatedly confronted by black activists pushing them to state directly that “black lives matter.”

The rise of the Black Lives Matter movement and an emboldened activist base stemmed from Barack Obama’s presidency.

“Obama illustrated for a lot of people, particularly young black people, the limitations of representation,” said Rahsad Robinson, president of the nonprofit civil rights group Color Of Change. “That just having a black face in a high place doesn’t mean that you’re actually going to get everything that you want to achieve.”

The Black Lives Matter movement “forced a conversation about race in a way that I don’t think had happened before with a white candidate,” Theodore Johnson, senior fellow at the Brennan Center for Justice, said of Clinton’s candidacy in 2016.

The discussion around racial identity has reached a turning point this cycle. Most of the Democratic presidential hopefuls are speaking explicitly about how their proposals would address minority communities affected by the racial wealth gap, higher maternal mortality rates, and the threat of deportation after living in the United States for years.

Biden and Booker dueled last week over their own records on criminal justice, with Booker calling Biden the “architect of mass incarceration” and Biden criticizing Booker for a federal investigation into the Newark Police Department during Booker’s tenure as mayor.

“His police department was stopping and frisking people, mostly African-American men,” Biden said last week.

Mayor Pete Buttigieg also did a flurry of media appearances to promote his “Douglass Plan” named after the famous abolitionist, which he calls “a comprehensive and intentional dismantling of racist structures and systems.” Former Rep. Beto O’Rourke frequently talks about how he benefits from white privilege and disclosed this month that he and his wife’s ancestors owned slaves. As his debate guests last night, O’Rourke invited three black high school football players from Michigan who were benched after they kneeled during the national anthem (two eventually transferred high schools).

“The very foundation of this country, the wealth that we have built, the way we became the greatest country on the face of the planet was literally on the backs of those who were kidnapped and brought here by force,” he said at the debate.

Johnson said he expected Biden to be the target of the discussion tonight and going forward.

“Race is going to be talked about more, and the more it’s talked about the more people are going to hit Biden on it because they’re after the black voters in his coalition,” he said.

New York City Mayor Bill de Blasio has already signaled he will attack Biden over past comments on working with segregationist senators and may mention, as he did in the first debate, that he is the only one on stage with a black son. But De Blasio has his own vulnerabilities on race, such as the fact that the officer involved in the death of Eric Garner remains on the force in New York.

Black activists were frustrated by the lack of time dedicated to race on Tuesday night given Trump’s latest attacks on Baltimore and Rep. Elijah Cummings.

“Skirting around the issue of racism and its impacts will not help Dems and the media is doing a disservice to the country by diminishing this critical issue on the debate stage,” tweeted Adrianne Shropshire, executive director of the progressive BlackPAC.

Wednesday night is expected to be different, and a big reason why, operatives and activists say, is the Democratic base and grassroots groups that sprang up in response to Trump.

“This fight is coming to a head because our communities are finally saying, enough is enough, if you want us, if you want the Democratic Party to be our political home then prove it,” said Natalia Salgado, a Latina and national political director for the Center for Popular Democracy Action, a progressive group.

“It’s not enough to say I was friends with a black person,” Salgado said, referring to Biden’s oft-used rejoinder that he was Obama’s vice president.

But Democratic strategist Jamal Simmons offered a warning to Democrats who plan to dig into any of their opponents’ pasts concerning policies that have negatively affected minorities ahead of the second debate.

“The danger is that the candidates end up giving Donald Trump ammunition in his efforts to depress black folks while he tries to excite white nativist voters,” said Simmons.

The lingering question for Democrats is whether or not the party’s reckoning on how it addresses racial identity and Trump’s nativist appeals is resonating with voters — black, brown or white.

“I don’t know the answer to that,” said Sellers. “We probably won’t know the answer for a really long time.”

Sally Goldenberg contributed to this report.

Read More

[marymosley]

Understand the Difference Between Terrorism and Crime

Crime is easy to define as an unacceptable and harmful behavior to an individual or group of people. Robbery, theft, corruption, burglary, physical and mental violence, embezzlement, killing, and rape are easy to categorize as crimes. An accuser of any of these crimes can hire a Los Angeles Criminal Lawyer for his/her representation. The case of terrorists will be difficult than criminals.

It is hard to give a universal definition of terrorism, but it is a terrorist act, and the world is grappling with thousands of monsters who are called terrorists. There is no doubt that terrorism is a crime and terrorists can make any situation confusing.

Laws to Deal with Criminals

There are different laws to deal with societies and crimes, and the criminals are punished with the severity of these crimes. Terrorism is an act of killing thousands of people, and its punishment should be harsh enough to teach a lesson to other terrorists. Terrorism can create panic and spread fear in the minds of society. Terrorism means personification of violence, and it is spreading its tentacles in all parts of the world.

Look back in history because the punishment of serious crimes is brutal and meted out to criminals to take a lesson from this punishment. It is done to create fear in the minds of people to indulge in these crimes. It is vital for the betterment of society because the brutal nature of punishment is essential to discourage activities of terrorists.

The modern system of punishment and crime is based on the judicial system. The criminals pleaded guilty and sentenced to prison, by their offense. Once a terrorist caught, he will not accept his guilty because he always thought that he is right and done well with the particular section of the population. It is an international menace all over the world, and it is easy to distinguish a crime and an act of violence on the grounds of culpability and sentencing procedures. An ordinary criminal is awarded sentence, and he keeps his words with his offense and serves a sentence in jail. A terrorist work based on his ideology and his beliefs motivate him to engage in the act of terrorism.

The perspective of People for Terrorists

They always believe that they are right and try to prove their point with evidence. For instance, one person throws bombs on a legislative assembly, he will be a terrorist for British administration, but for whole India, he will be regarded as a hero, a symbol of resistance to British oppression and a martyr. Similarly, LTTE was a terrorist outfit in Sri Lanka and the rest of the world, but the cadres and leaders of LTTE believed that they are freedom fighters against an oppressive regime and didn’t pay attention to the grievances of Tamils in Sri Lanka.

Insurgents are engaged in the terrorist activities in different parts of the world, such as Somalia, Chechnya, Bosnia, Yemen, and the Middle East, Kashmir, Israel, and numerous African countries. Suppression and oppression of minorities for a long time through discrimination and denial of the fundamental right of human or hatred of government can start their violence. Wrong policies of the government, often give rise to terrorists and people feel that it is the right way to get justice.

Before 9/11, the perception of the world for terrorism was utterly different, and the image of the twin towers collapsing was dangerous. The subsequent loss of almost 3000 lives shook the whole world, and they were forced to say, enough is enough. People, who were against violence, got united under the flag of the US leadership, and the president of the US also pledge support of the countries who were helping them in this fight.

Different countries were helping the United States to work against terrorism. The world was divided into two groups, one was against terrorism was with the United States, and others, supporting terrorism, was in another group.

Untiring initiatives of the partners in the fight against terror have led to several triumphs among infrequent acts of assault indulged in by terrorists. The terrorist has no belief and ideology because they are just killing innocent people and there is no religion in the world to allow this action. They are shooting in the name of religion, but actually, they are far away from their faith.

Terrorism Vs. Crime

Terrorism is an intercontinental phenomenon, and it is always there in societies. Criminals can be handled with the help of trials in court and sentence them to prison, while it is hard to deal with terrorists because they have strong motivation and never implore guilty, even when they caught.

Terrorists are criminals, but they commit crimes against humanity, instead of an individual. On the other hand, ordinary criminals do it on an individual level for their benefits.

Terrorism is an extreme form of violence, and it is always a stressful situation. It is essential to punish terrorists for their activities and communicate their assessments objectively. It is not confined to a terror group because people from all over the world are bearing this situation.

Non-state artists practice terrorism, and they may get help from furtive

Terrorists reach an instantaneous target victim, also directed at the targets with the larger brands of the society.

The mala prohibita (i.e., crime declared illegitimate by legislation), and mala in se (all immoral crimes) are terms to define terrorism.

Terrorists often target commemorative dates and anniversaries. Nationalist groups often strike to memorialize battles during a common struggle and religious groups often strike to mark appropriate observances. Some groups will try to memorialize anniversaries of effective operations or the implementations or deaths of prominent individuals related to their particular conflicts.

The act of a terrorist can be political, and they have intentions to spread fear and generate a positive political outcome in their favor. Clausewitz said that the war is the persistence of policy by other means and it is taken as an axiom by terrorists. They simply eliminate the transitional step of warfare and armies and apply aggression directly to the political challenge.

The type of targets selected by these groups often reflects ideologies and motivations. For instance, the secular groups have social and political motives. They usually target highly symbolic authority, banks, government offices, national airlines, and multinational corporations. They plan attacks on representatives, whom they correlate with economic development, political repression, and social injustice.

Behavior of Terrorists

There are a few common elements among the majority of terrorists. They all want to achieve their objectives. Terrorists may behave differently, such as:

Political

Coercive

Psychological

Deliberate

Dynamic

Political

The act of a terrorist can be political, and they have intentions to spread fear and generate a positive political outcome in their favor. They only eliminate the transitional step of warfare and armies and apply aggression directly to the political challenge.

Psychological

The projected results of terrorist activities often cause a psychosomatic effect (“horror”). They target particular people than the actual fatalities of the act. They are intended to target audience instead of a whole population and specific portions of a society, such as ethnic minority or decision-making elites in a social, political and military populace.

Coercive

Aggression and obliteration are used in charge of the operations to create the desired outcome. If casualties or obliteration are not the outcomes of terrorist maneuvers, the risk or perspective of aggression is what generates the projected effect. For instance, a successful hostage procedure may result in the freedom of all detainees without a scratch after negotiations and haggling.

Apart from the result, the terrorist bargain chips and this is equal to an underdone peril of applying violence to disfigure or kill some or all the prisoners. If the threat of violence is not credible and the radicals are powerless to implement the devastation effectively, it means the terrorism fails.

Dynamic

Some terrorist groups often demand revolution, change or political movement. They justify their terrorism mandates to destroy or modify the status quo. If the goals of a campaign are stubborn, they require action to change the movement of a clock or reinstate some valued worth that may be extinct. Nonentity entrusts violent attacks on strangers or innocent people to keep things as per their desires.

Deliberate

Terrorism is a planned activity to achieve fastidious goals. It is a rationally employed tactic, instead of a random act. The victims of this violence may not know the terrorists and unable to understand their objectives. They randomly select victims or target, but the target should contain the symbolic values or capable of eliciting the emotional response, as per the goals of terrorists. The actual target of terrorism is not a victim of violence, but the psychosomatic equilibrium.

If you want to get more information on the nature of crimes and their punishments, meet a Los Angeles Criminal Lawyer at this address.

Address:

Pasadena Criminal Attorney

740 E Colorado Blvd Suite #201A

Pasadena, CA 91101

626-689-2277

https://www.pasadena-criminalattorney.com

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