Tumgik
#it is supposed to be a mix between an abandoned space station and your rich spooky grandma’s house
denndrawings · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
They are hot!! They are middle aged!!! They are insufferable!!!!
4K notes · View notes
meetthetank · 5 years
Text
Peccatum Chapters 11-13
Sooooo I am booboo the fool and kept forgetting to post the new chapters here when I updated them on Ao3. On that note, enjoy a 3 for 1 mass posting
Ao3 Links: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/47532154 https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/48310690#workskin https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/49764506#workskin Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata), Jackass/The Commander (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), 6O (NieR: Automata), 21O, Jackass (NieR: Automata), The Commander (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, genre typical violence, long fic, Slow Burn, War, Chapter 13 is rated E Language: English 
Chapter 11: Vigo
It’s both a blessing and a curse being surrounded by droves of people. 9S likes the ability to disappear into a crowd, but the more people means the more likely he is to be discovered. At least, marching in line with the other scouts in the midst of the rest of the army, strangers wouldn’t be inspecting him too closely. That being said, he can’t shake the feeling that the eyes of the displaced and terrified citizens of Vigo were staring straight into his soul.
What was once a bustling port city is now a vacant array of buildings surrounded by hundreds of hastily pitched tents and camps. The situation is clearly much worse than White had anticipated, seeing as most if not all of the population camps about a mile away from the actual city and there seem to be no signs of protection or higher authority. They pass by several groups of people who almost swarm the march with their hands out desperately asking for things like food, water, and medicine. As much as the sight hurts 9S to watch, he had to march boldly, ignoring the cries of the suffering.
There’s multiple times where 9S has to scan the crowd. He’s certain he senses the presence of other half-demons here, though with so many in the crowd it’s hard to pick out exactly where they are. For a split second his hopes soar at the possibility that he won’t have to hide as badly here, but the tension and fear that hangs in the air quells that hope as quickly as it rises.
The city itself, vacant as it is, is one of the more opulent ones 9S has visited. Well maintained cobblestone streets, every building decorated with white marble columns contrasted by rich red brickwork and flanked by grand statues of what he assumes to be commissioning senators. He had heard the port town was wealthy, but he supposed he had to see it to believe it. If only he could take the time to actually enjoy the place.
White leads the army through the center of the practically abandoned city towards the barracks belonging to the city guard, right past a structure that chills 9S to the bone. An execution block, complete with gallows, cages, stockades, and other cruel methods of death. The dark wood and the cobblestone around it is stained dark and decorated with graffitied slurs and crude depictions of half-demons. 9S makes sure his glamor charm is hidden away under his coat and tries to not look at the grim sight for too long.
So far the only other people they pass by in Vigo are stubborn vagrants who refuse to abandon their homes, or volunteer soldiers bringing food and what little water they can find to the tent city. White commands the army to halt while she and Jackass enter the sparsely guarded judicial building, however they return with scowls. White snaps at a nearby city guard who sprints away as if he had seen a demon. 9S wonders if the Commander is the highest authority still left in the city…
Without the need to announce their arrival, since there were no authority figures besides White, the army files into the barracks and prepares themselves to settle in for a long time. There was no way to tell when they would be called into battle, so most of the soldiers believed they would be assigned to assist with moving people and ferrying supplies to and from the camps. 9S isn’t sure if he agrees with that, but he didn’t anticipate the cowardice of the ruling class, so at this point, anything could happen.
He also doesn’t expect just how cramped the city’s barracks would be. Everyone regardless of station, with the exception of Commander White herself, are nearly shoulder to shoulder as they unpack and claim beds. The scouts all congregate at the back of the bunk room, and though the tension between 9S and 801S is still palpable, they both help each other and the rest of the scouts get situated in their small spaces. 9S wonders if he should apologize for how he acted a few days back, after all, 801S was in the right. Wandering away from the group was incredibly dangerous, even if it really wasn’t his fault.
“Hey...Nines?” 32S quietly says to him once most of the others are sprawled out on their beds for a moment of rest.
“Hm? Everything okay?”
32S fidgets with a simple charm on his bracelet, “Yeah, um… Did you see-”
“The town center? Yeah…” a grim look crosses 9S’ face.
“I didn’t know Vigo was so dangerous to...us.”
“I didn’t either. According to 42S’ report, it seemed more tolerant than most towns…”
“What changed?”
“Demon attacks,” 801S muttered, shuffling past the two, “I’d imagine between regular demon sieges and whatever the thing in the bay is only fueled tensions.”
“Oh…” 32S’ head drops, “Right.”
801S sighs and places a hand on his companion’s shoulder, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine if you just stick with the squad. Not even an angry mob would dare attack a group of uniformed soldiers.”
9S jabs 801S in the side, perhaps a little too roughly, “Ssh. Not so loud.”
He almost snaps at 9S but shuts up once he sees the small troop of city guards and Republic soldiers shuffle through the crowd of White’s soldiers. One gives the scouts an odd look before continuing onward.
“Odds are they’ve got orders to apprehend anyone they suspect of being half breeds,” 9S whispers, “If they hear any of us it won’t matter what army we’re a part of and it would get the Commander in serious trouble.”
“Why don’t you get 2B to protect you.” says 801S with a scowl.
9S is about to snap back at him, but Jackass looming just a few beds down forces him to keep quiet. For now at least.
“Okay boys listen up,” she grumbles in a low tone, just barely loud enough for the scouts to hear, “White and I suspect something’s wrong. No Senator, no Mayor, no Councilors, not even a Merchant Lord. You lot and I are gonna do some snooping around the camps, see if any of the civilians know what’s going on. Be geared up and at the front of the barracks in an hour.”
The moment Jackass is out of earshot, the scouts let out a collective groan.
“I know it isn’t a Senator’s estate, but it’ll be a lot more comfortable than the barracks,” 6O says with a playful wink.
2B stands awkwardly in the small bedroom that her friend had rented at a steep discount through a mix of feminine charms and a flash of military affiliation. A free place to stay required her to be an official part of White’s army after all.
“All this is...for me?” she asks.
“Yep! Well, at least until we move out again. After that either you stick with us or you pay on your own.”
“Thank you,” 2B bows her head to her friend, “What do I owe you in repayment?”
“Nothing, you dumb chicken!” 6O jabs her in the rib lightly, “This is me repaying you for that stunt you got me out of during the Equinox Festival?”
“If I hadn’t covered for that mess you made with the Elder’s granddaughter and that botched wedding you would have been eaten alive. Literally.”
“I know! That’s why I’m repaying you! Besides, that innkeeper would do anything for a pretty lady.”
“Oh really?” she crosses her arms across her chest and allows for a coy smirk, “Do you know any?”
“Hey watch it, Featherbrain, I can still let you sleep in the streets.”
2B puts her hands up defensively, “I kid, I kid. Though all this does seem a bit...unnecessary. I hope that doesn’t sound ungrateful.”
“Huh? Why, are you planning on exploring the city?” a smirk of her own plays across 6O’s lips, “Ooor….are you planning on fooling around with a certain scout? Hmm?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” 6O is taken aback by her honesty and bluntness, “...You two are really hitting it off, huh?”
2B nods, “He’s interesting and…” she shakes her to let the downy feathers beneath her hair settle before they puff out too much, “...Cute.”
“Interesting and cute, huh? Is that all it takes to win the heart of a Coatyl?”
“Please,” 2B huffs, “I’m not that easy to woo. But…”
“Buuuut….?”
“I was thinking about...um,” she turns away and tries to smooth down her hair, “...Going out to find a...stone.”
6O gasps and bounces on her heels with barely contained excitement, “Are you serious?! Oh, 2B!! When are you gonna give it to him?! You have to tell me! As your best friend and self-appointed emotional guardian, I have a right to know!”
“I don’t know. I have to find one first…”
“You come to me the moment you do! Promise?!”
“I promise, 6O.”
In hindsight, it probably would have been safer for 9S to stick with the other scouts while investigating the refugee camps, but he needed to get away from 801S and his constant jabs at his closeness to 2B. Every single time he thinks about maybe apologizing, that guy always ends up pushing back. It’s like he has mind-reading powers or something. It all just makes 9S’ blood boil.
Just thinking about 2B makes his head spin. It’s such a bizarre situation he never thought he’d find himself in, and there’s no easy solution to it. Cutting her loose wouldn’t work, she wouldn’t leave the only real lead to her sibling. That and 9S gets the feeling she’s become...attached to him, which is a whole other wheelbarrow of manure for him to sift through and possibly the reason for all the conflict between him and the other scouts.
He’d be an idiot if he denied having feelings for her. She’s strong, mysterious, and sweet beneath the abrasive personality. There were glimmers of genuine kindness that every time he gets a peek, he wants to see more and more…
God, he’s got it bad for her.
Stupid lousy goddamn sexy dragoness…
Then there was the whole issue of his bloodline and the danger that put him and 2B in, which is just...Great.
At least he could lose himself in his work. A good puzzle always kept his mind off of distressing things.
9S spends an hour or so mingling with those civilians that were involved in higher government before it all disappeared. Most declined to speak at first, but nothing a bit of wine couldn’t fix seeing as how luxuries were hard to come by. According to one tax collector, the Senator had fled the town the moment the demon first surfaced, and his assistants soon after. One by one the mayor, councilors, even treasurers secured passage out of Vigo before any of the civilians knew what was happening. Of course, 9S shouldn’t be surprised at this, but it still makes him sick to his stomach that they would just leave their people to die like this? Maybe growing up with authority figures like White, Jackass, and his mother made him less tolerant of this sort of behavior.
The last real authority figure still lingering around is an old wharfmaster, who shut down all ship traffic in the harbor after the second demon sighting. He’s much more forthcoming with information than the others, telling 9S about how shutting the harbor down was a very unpopular decision. With demon attacks on the rise, many civilians from all over flocked to the port city for passage to the blessed grounds of the Theocracy. Even with a massive mystery demon in the bay the water is still the safest option, with the other two being a vast desert and an even larger primordial bog, both filled with creatures far worse than whatever was lurking in the depths.
Unfortunately, that’s the extent of what he’s able to learn. No one seems to know where the nobles went or how long they planned on staying away. Their houses and most of their belongings were left behind and promptly ransacked once word spread, though 9S doubts if anything terribly valuable was taken.
He begins making his way back to the barracks to compile his report when he runs into his mother and the other supply wagons. On either side of the caravan are several city guards that escort them through the camps and into the city proper. 21O leads the horses pulling the raven wagon and gives a brief wave to 9S as she passes by. He sprints up to her while shoving his notebook into his satchel.
“Hey, what took you guys so long?” he says after catching his breath.
“Customs officers needed to inspect the wagons before letting us into the city.”
“Really?”
21O gives him an odd look, “Is that so hard to believe? It’s a large city important to the Republic.”
“Well, the city government is all but gone aside from a few tax collectors and a wharfmaster. Everyone else fled after the first sighting.”
She sighs, “We should have expected this.”
“At least we don’t have to pander to some stuffy aristocrat while we’re here, right?”
“In a sense, yes, but there is a good chance that those stuffy aristocrats will be sending messengers to make sure we adhere to their rules.”
“Yeah, yeah…” 9S grumbles.
“One affirmation is enough.”
“Fiiiiine.”
9S hops onto the wagon so he can finish getting all of his notes for his report written down, stopping occasionally to calm the squawking birds. It isn’t long before city hall comes into view, as well as an ornate carriage. Two nearly identical white haired men walk with White and Jackass. Something about the two of them gives 9S a...strange feeling.
“Who are they?” he asks.
21O stares at the two men for a much longer time than 9S thought necessary, “...I don’t know. They could be envoys.”
“Well,” mutters 9S, “...I have to turn my report into Jack-...The Lieutenant.” he hops off the wagon just as it passes the city hall.
“You’re not going to eavesdrop on the commander again, are you?” his mother chastises, “Remember how long you were stuck on latrine duty the last time they caught you?”
“I’m gonna catch her before their meeting, don’t worry.” he groans, but a smirk crosses his face just as 21O gets out of earshot, “...And I won’t get caught this time.”
Slipping into the city hall is easy enough. 9S is small enough his footsteps barely make a sound even on marble floors, and there’s plenty of statues, columns, and furniture of obscure him from view. The real problem is finding which of the hundreds of offices and council chambers his superior officers are using. Door after door of empty rooms, storage closets, and baffling fake doors, he finally hears the muffled grumbling of Jackass.
“...is why they had to send the two of you. Why not meet us personally.”
9S crouches near the door and eases it open just a tad so he can hear better.
“Again,” the man with long white hair says, his voice smooth and almost velvet like, “We apologize that the Senator could not be here to meet you and your army in person, but he does send his thanks for coming to his city’s aid.”
“I see,” White says, tapping her chin.
“Now, the reason for our visit,” he motions to what appears to be his twin, a man with short wild white hair, to lay a series of parchments in front of White and Jackass, “The Senator and the city councilors have compiled their plans for evacuating civilians.”
“And enlisting a Theocratic battalion is part of these evacuations?” Jackass snaps and gestures to the packet in her hands.
“Yes,” the long haired man remains calm, “They are the most effective legion to dispose of the demonic threat, and seeing as your troops are not prepared to handle an evacuation or the demon in the harbor-”
White holds up her hand, “Incorrect. My lieutenant has been devising a countermeasure of our own for some time. As for the civilians, our troops are more than capable of handling evacuations.”
The long haired man is silent for a moment while his short haired companion childishly slumps over the table, “...Very well. Under your discretion we will leave the tasks outlined in these documents to you and your army. I am...curious of this...countermeasure you mentioned. Would it be enough to eliminate the demon in the water?”
Jackass produces some documents of her own and arranges them on the table. Oh how 9S’ wishes he could see them.
“It requires two ships to carry it, but there’s enough power in cannon to level a small city. Unless this demon is immune to half a ton of solid metal flying at it at about ...three hundred miles per hour, we’re fine.”
“This contraption is...experimental, yes?”
Jackass tenses up, “Yes, but I’ve overseen every part of its design. It will work.”
He nods, “Very well. If the beast surfaces again we will prepare your...cannon. The Senator’s provisions and supplies are at your disposal.”
White bows, “Thank you. We will begin preparations for the evacuations immediately.”
The two white haired men return the bow and turn to the door. For the briefest of moments, the one with long hair locks eyes with 9S and an unnatural chill runs through his body. He’s frozen in place by the man’s hypnotic red eyes, and 9S swears he smiles at him. As they move towards him, 9S scrambles away as quickly and as quietly as he can. They don’t shout or follow or chase after, they just leave.
When they pass by him, that same chill makes 9S shudder and the hideous whispering of the girls in red begin to creep into his mind. The long haired man smirks idly as he stares in his general direction.
His inhuman, red eyes bore into 9S’ soul...
Chapter 12: Cherry Boy
With little over a week and no sign of the strange demon in the bay, 9S beings to wonder if maybe this is all just a big hoax. Perhaps the Senator and Councilors fabricated this all as a ploy to interrupt the mass evacuation, or simply to have a stronger military presence at their disposal. He’s sure that Commander White and Jackass are suspicious as well, considering they waste no time putting him and the other scouts to work. It’s mostly busy work and assisting the refugees on the outskirts of the city, but there are a number of times where they have the ulterior motive of watching Adam and Eve, the twin messengers of the Senator.
Simply looking at the twins sends shivers down his spine. Their eyes, demeanor, stark white hair, even the way they speak sets off something within him. Not to mention the fact that whenever they’re nearby, he hears the nauseating whispers of...whatever those girls in red are. He knows they’re demons, but he’s not sure which kind or if they’re full blooded or not.
Of course, 9S told Jackass of his suspicions, which were met with solemn nods and promises of “working on it”. As much as it frustrates him that there isn’t immediate action, it is a delicate situation. Those twins hold themselves in a position of power over the entire army, one false move and White would end up in a mess of trouble. Jackass needs irrefutable proof that those two aren’t human to make a proper case against them.
However, there’s only so much he can do in one day.
His entire morning and afternoon is spent assisting his mother with care of the ravens and sorting incoming mail, as well as keeping tabs on the twin messengers under the guise of simple errands for the wharfmaster. With the added bonus of 801S being assigned to assist, 9S pushes himself and 801S to complete all of their tasks as quickly as possible. Luckily, 801S agrees with him, albeit sullenly.
9S sighs to himself as he walks with 801S. Their little feud has been going on for quite some time, and frankly the whole thing exhausts him.
“Hey...801S?” he begins.
“Yeah?”
He sounds genuine at least, that’s a good sign, “I...Look I know I’ve been a jerk to you and the others recently.”
801S says nothing, but regards his friend with wary but patient eyes.
“I just wanted to apologize for how I’ve been acting recently. We’re supposed to be a team, but I’ve just been thinking of myself.”
Again, 801S says nothing for a long time, only staring at 9S while he frets with the hem of his sleeve.
“...I can hardly blame you. She is very pretty,” he says finally, a small grin creeping on his face.
9S’ face flushes red, “Y-...She is. But that doesn’t excuse the way I’ve treated everyone.”
He shrugs, “By this point it’s just me who’s still holding a grudge. But...Maybe I’m still bitter.”
“About?”
“You know…” 801S gives his friend a sad look and a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Oh...Yeah. Listen, I know that we didn’t, um...work well as a couple, but you’re still my friend. No matter what.”
“I know that it’s just...It makes me feel weird seeing you go after someone else, especially a woman. I know I don’t have any right to feel that way but that’s the truth.”
9S rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah…”
“I owe you an apology as much as you do. So...I’m sorry for being such a jealous dunce.”
9S laughs a bit, “We really are a mess aren’t we.”
“No, just you. Mr. I’m gonna fall for a dragoness.”
“W- Wait hang on!” he sputters, “I did not fall for her!”
“Oh really?” 801S teases, and for the first time in a while, his coy smirk appears, “Then once we get back to the barracks, where were you gonna go?”
“N-None of your business!”
9S self-consciously pulls his scarf over his face and dashes away, leaving behind a laughing 801S.
“Good luck, moron!”
2B sits on 6O’s bed, legs folded beneath her. She turns a smooth, blue-ish pebble over and over in her hand while 6O combs her thin fingers through the downy undercoat of 2B’s hair.
“Soooo...Is this the one?” 6O asks, twisting a few strands into a loose braid.
“I think so, the sheen and color of this stone is much better.”
“When are you gonna give it to him?”
2B hums in thought, “I’m not sure, there isn’t very often where the two of us are alone…Perhaps I’ll ask him if he wants to go on a walk?”
“That might work, but…” she mutters, “Sorry, Toobie, but I can’t help but wonder what would happen if he doesn’t accept?”
“Well, it wouldn’t change much really,” 2B responds, “It’s merely a statement of intention.”
“You can say that all you like, but you and I both know what the common meaning of one of those stones is.”
She huffs and attempts to smooth down her hair before it becomes too fluffed up, “Hush.”
6O giggles and returns her attention to the simple pattern of plaits and braids she’s weaving through her friend’s hair. Through some of the braiding she places small colorful flowers. Some purple and blue, others bright red like drops of blood.
“Still, I can’t help but think the meaning and symbolism might be lost on him. He’s never had exposure to Coatyl culture beyond what you’ve explained to him.”
2B can’t help but agree. Without knowledge of what this stone means, it’s just a simple rock. She turns it in her hands, running her thumb over the smooth peaks and troughs of the little blue stone.
“...I’m still going to do it.”
“I know,” 6O says with a giggle, “I know better than to try and stop you once you’ve made up your mind. Oh, but you...Um, has your uh ...time, passed?” she mumbles, fidgeting with a small, hair-like feather.
“Yes, my yearly heat ended several months ago.”
6O lets out an audible sigh of relief which earns her a pointed glare from 2B, “Oh quiet, I’m allowed to fret.”
“I am not some wanton teenager. I know what I’m doing.”
“You could have fooled me.” 6O teases.
“Listen-”
Just as 2B is about to scold her dearest friend for her overbearing behavior, she spots 9S waving from just down the hall. Hastily, she stuffs the stone in one of her pockets before he gets too close.
“Speak of the devil and he shall appear!” 6O greets as 9S lets out an annoyed groan.
“Ha ha,” he says with a deadpan tone, “I’ve never heard that one a million times.”
2B shuffles slightly as she waves to 9S, who plops down on the bed next to her.
“Wow, your hair looks really pretty with all these flowers in it!” he says while running the tips of his fingers along one of her braids, “Like a...like a snow field with little flowers poking out of it.” He knows his face is bright red, but he doesn’t feel the telltale flutters of his heart or shaking of his hands. He just smiles and runs his fingers over the patterns of braids and flowers.
6O snickers and teases him for being a budding poet, but 2B can’t help but notice how her heart skips a beat.
“Thank you…”
“Aww,” 6O coos, “Look, when she gets flustered her hair gets all poofy. Like an angry bird!”
2B shoves her friend playfully as 9S giggles next to her. Suddenly the stone in her pocket feels twice as heavy, “Ahem...Anyway, 9S, what are you doing here? I thought you were loaded with tasks?”
“Ugh, yeah,” he groans, “But 801S and I managed to finish everything more quickly than I thought, so now I have the rest of the day to myself.”
“Ooo,” 6O says, leaning in close to the two of them, “What are you gonna do with all your free time?”
“Um,” 9S looks to the floor, his face suddenly heating up, “Well, 2B, if you’re also free, I was thinking maybe we could explore the city? It’s really quiet since everyone is trying to leave. Usually places like this are swarming with tons of people all the time. It can get pretty overwhelming.”
2B and 6O exchange glances with each other. 6O sports a wide grin and excited eyes, while 2B’s face remains as neutral as ever, aside from the slight shifting of the flowers in her hair.
“Sure,” says 2B, “I’ve never been to a human city before, at least not one as big as this. I’d appreciate a tour.”
“Great!” 9S nearly bounces to his feet, taking 2B’s hand in his and pulling her up as well, “I’ll meet you out front in a few minutes! I’m gonna change out of my uniform!”
Before 2B can respond he’s already out the door, his excited footsteps echoing through the barracks. She feels her heart flutter like the wings of a fledgling and thinks herself rather silly.
6O leans close to her, a wicked grin spreading across her face, “Soooo….”
“Hush.”
“Come on Two Beeeeee! This is the perfect opportunity!”
“Hush.”
She grabs 2B’s shoulders and rocks them back and forth, “You gotta!! 2B you have to!”
“Hush,” 2B shuffles herself away from 6O and rises to her feet. She lifts her scabbard and slings the strap across her shoulders, then makes her way towards the barrack’s exit, “....Maybe I will. Depending on how things go.”
The excited shouting of 6O is the last thing 2B hears before she shuts the door behind her.
Even 2B, someone who had never set foot in a city this size, couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the vacant streets and silent buildings. The comparisons to a forest of stone trees were not lost on her. A forest with no life in it whatsoever, aside from the handful of stubborn folks who seem determined to die in the place they were born. Such devotion to their homeland sends a pang of guilt through her heart, and reminds her of where she can never return to…
Yet those melancholy thoughts are quickly swept away by 9S’ enthusiasm. He gleefully leads her through the maze of streets and buildings, plazas and squares, pointing out the unique history of each statue or piece of architecture. While his wealth of knowledge is staggering, 2B finds herself more interested in feeling the different wind currents shift and waver, and imagining how to successfully fly on such currents. Even though she isn’t exactly listening to him, 9S’ cheerful chattering does make her feel more at ease in this foreign and claustrophobic environment.
Even the local fauna seem to have fled, aside from the street cats that peek out from their hiding places to watch 9S. One skinny orange cat even follows them for a few blocks, its tail held high the entire time. A low growl from 2B sends it scurrying away.
“Aw...that one was cute,” 9S pouts.
2B huffs, “Don’t like cats.”
“How come?” he asks, pacing a bit in front of her.
“Back in my homeland, we had to always be on guard for shadowcats. They make your...what are they called,” she mutters, “Lions? Yes, lions. They make lions look like harmless kittens.”
“Okay...that’s terrifying,” 9S muses and falling back in step besides 2B.
“Quite. They are far too silent for something as large as they are.”
9S shudders at the image his mind conjures of predators the size of the buildings that surround them, lurking just out of sight. Desperate to change the subject, he grabs hold of 2B’s hand and pulls her forward with a nervous grin plastered on his face.
“Come on, let’s find something to eat! There’s bound to be someone still running a stand or two around here. What are you in the mood for?”
The existence of a choice catches her off guard, “Hm…”
“We could see if there’s someone making sweetbreads! Or something hearty and warm, like soup or meat pies!” his eyes light up at the thought of these foods, but suddenly his face falls, “Oh...wait I don’t have a whole lot of money right now…”
The last thing 2B wants is to quash his enthusiasm, but she doubts that anyone with something to live for would be anywhere near this town. In fact the only humans she’s seen in the city besides those affiliated with White’s army were a small group of vagrants idlying by a run down pier. They huddle around a small fire surrounded by shields, which protect it from the salty wind blowing off of the water.
She stops suddenly as an idea comes to her.
“Hm? What’s wrong, 2B?”
“Why not go to the harbor?” she asks, pointing towards the pier, “It is free food, after all.”
While she does have a point 9S can’t help but remember the state he found her the first time they met. Floundering around like a crippled seagull, barely able to keep her head above water. Looking back on it now, he'd consider it funny if it wasn’t a threat to her life, and even then it was still pretty funny. Still, he would rather not have to dive into the murky, possibly demon infested waters of the harbor to rescue her once again.
“Alright,” 9S says, “But only if you let me teach you how us weak humans fish. You know, without almost drowning.”
“Hmph.” 2B crosses her arms over her chest and scowls at him, “The techniques of my people have been honed for millenia. Do not insult the proud dragon species.”
He holds back a laugh, “Only if you promise not to make me jump in the water after you.”
A low growl is the only response he gets, which only serves to make him smile more. She really is cute when she’s flustered.
2B doesn’t agree to his proposal out right, but she does follow behind him while he looks through the abandoned merchant stalls for loose equipment. Most if not all of the stands are void of anything useful, whether it was packed up when the owner left or picked clean by vagrants was impossible to tell, but there were a handful that still contained hidden treasures.
9S wasn’t about to expect to find a full fishing set and box of tackle, but he did find a worn rod and a spool of wire. In another he found an old box of hardtack and cheese. Not as ideal a bait as worms or insects, but it would do in a pinch. 2B just stares, bewildered by the seemingly random tools he collects, but makes no comment. She only watches him with those bright, curious eyes. He can’t help but smile at her.
“Come on, let’s go find a good spot,” he says, nodding his head towards the bay, “Or-...Hey can you pick out where there’s the most fish?”
With a nod, 2B wanders over to the edge of the dock and peers into the water. She stands there, unmoving and silent aside from the occasional turn of her head. Sometimes she prowls across the edge, stalking some unseen movement. Unable to contain his curiosity, 9S leans over, dangerously close to the water, to get a look at her face and what she’s looking at. Her eyes, wide and darkend, dart across the surface. It’s mesmerizing to watch her, so mesmerizing that when she suddenly turns to speak to him, he nearly jumps out of his skin and loses his balance.
“This spot seems to be a spawning ground,” 2B says, fixing her hair, “There are plentiful fish here.”
“R-..right. Okay,” he inwardly curses how easy it is to get him to blush, as he can already feel his face heating up, “Here, lemme show you how to bait the line.”
Careful not to stab his fingers, 9S hooks a piece of cheese onto the end of the line, “You want the barb at the end to be poking through enough so that it hooks into the fish’s mouth when it tries to get the bait, but not so much that it can just take it without hooking themselves.”
2B’s brow furrows as he casts the line into the harbor and sits on the edge, his feet dangling above the water, “Now what?”
“Now we wait for a fish to bite. Once you feel the line start to tug and pull away, you reel it in. That’s really all there is to it.”
“Seems...Boring,” she says, yet sits beside him anyway.
“That depends on how hungry the fish are,” he answers, “If they are, we should have a bite within-...!”
As if on cue, the rod dips into the water, then whatever is on the other end nearly rips it from 9S’ hands. With a quick yelp, he grabs hold of the fishing rod and yanks backward with all of his might. Something small breaks the surface of the water and with practiced movements, 9S reels in a fish about the size of his hand.
“See? Easy!” He holds up the wriggling fish to 2B with a bright smile, “You wanna give it a shot?”
2B eyes the fish, “...What are you going to do with that?”
“Oh, usually I toss them back. Why?” he asks, working the hook out of the fish’s mouth.
The moment the fish is free, 2B snatches it away with a lightning quick swipe of her clawed hand.
“I’m hungry,” she says and bites the head clean off of its body.
“Urgh…,” 9S fights back the nauseous churning of his gut, “Fine, but if you want to eat more you have to catch your own.”
She swallows the still-thrashing tail in one gulp, “...Okay, deal.”
9S hands her the rod and some bait then takes a step back. Just in case. She fumbles with the hook and ends up stabbing her fingers more than once before the bit of bread is through the barb. It’s worth the sideways glares he gets from her to laugh at her stubbornness.
“Need any help?” he teases.
She lets out a growl before tossing the line into the harbor and kneeling down next to him, “Quiet.”
Watching 2B fish is far from the relaxing and meditative activity 9S expects it to be. It’s more akin to watching a hawk stalk its prey from its perch. Each movement of the fish swimming just out of his sight, each ripple of the water is something 2B can decipher and track with precision he could only dream of. Her shoulders tense each time the line moves, whether by the currents or by a curious fish. She looks so poised he’s half worried that she might leap into the water at any given moment.
A few of the civilians who chose to stay in the city wander over to watch this strange woman in strange robes fish in her bizarre manner. 2B doesn’t seem to notice, as her concentration is locked solely on the water and what lies beneath.
“Try moving the rod a little. Fish tend to like things that move like prey,” he whispers directly in her ear so as not to disturb her too much.
The very tip of the rod dips once, twice, then in a flash of movement too fast for 9S to even see 2B leaps back and rips a large trout out of the water with a magnificent splash. The civilians cheer as the fish struggles against the rod and 2B’s strength, floundering on the ground pathetically. She grins at her catch, flashing the pointed teeth of a predator. 9S can’t help but feel...something...as she bites into its flesh and severs its spine clean in half. Not fear, at least not entirely fear. Awe perhaps? Whatever the feeling is, it certainly makes his stomach do strange flips and his heart beat just a bit faster.
The civilians disperse quickly amidst worried murmuring and fearful stares. Some part of 9S feels as though he should be offended, but then again, as he glances at 2B eating a live fish nearly whole he can see why strangers would flee from her. After all, he almost did.
But he knows she is not some monster, despite her outward appearance and current actions. She is kind, gentle, and strong beyond compare. She is a peerless warrior, and someone he considers to be a dear friend. He…
“I…” 2B’s voice jolts 9S out of his thoughts, “I would offer to share, but…” she looks down at the remains of the trout in her hands, “Well, you said before humans can’t eat raw meats.”
“Well, not often. But I hear there are some places that think it’s a delicacy.”
Her eyes widen a bit and she tilts her head to the side in the way that makes 9S’ heart skip, “Really?”
“Mhm,” he says as he takes the fishing rod and casts it into the harbor, “Even just on our continent, there’s a lot of kinds of food specific to one area. Like on the border of the Theocracy and the Great Bog they make this special kind of sweet bread with honey that supposedly tastes like angel tears.”
“I’m not sure I see the point in all this...variation.” 2B admits after tossing the scraps of inedible fish back into the water.
9S gives her a quizzical look, “Do Coatlys not have different ways of preparing meals? Like different mixes of spices?”
“Preparing food seems to be a…human practice. We simply hunt prey or gather plants from the forest, clean, dress, and give thanks. That’s it.”
He chuckles, “I guess you must think all the effort humans put into cooking pretty silly, huh?”
“Hardly,” 2B says, shaking her head, “It’s....interesting. I’d like for you to cook for me sometime, should the occasion arise.”
9S’ face lights up like the sun, “Really?! I know tons of recipes from all over! Maybe once we’re done here, I’ll be able to go on leave for a bit, then we can try all kinds of new foods together!”
2B folds her hands into her pockets and fumbles with something unseen by 9S, “I’d like that, I think.”
Though the conversation ends, 9S finds himself enjoying their silence. More often than not he feels a bit awkward if there’s little to no banter, but this is...comfortable. He doesn’t feel the need to speak to 2B for her to know he’s enjoying her company. And the soft smile on her lips lets him know that she feels the same.
They fish together in silence, passing the rod back and forth every so often, 2B eating whatever fish looks the tastiest to her, until the sun begins to set.
“It’s gonna be dark soon, we should start heading-...” 9S begins, but as he stands up he cuts himself short, “Oh! I just remembered something!”
“Hm?” 2B hums, standing up with him.
“While I was helping the refugees earlier, I happened upon a traveling merchant who was selling something I’ve never tried before. Want to come with me?”
2B barely has the chance to nod before he grabs her hand and starts pulling her along. They jog together through the empty streets, and though she is more than capable of keeping pace beside him, 9S does not let go of her hand.
She thinks she doesn’t want him to.
It isn’t long before the sprawling complex of tents comes into view, just past the unkempt walls of Vigo. Many civilians are settling in for the night, but many more are huddled around small fires chatting with one another. The air is tense, apprehensive, but not as much as when they first arrived. 2B wrinkles her nose at the sharp scent of alcohol that hangs around certain groups, but 9S seems too focused on his destination to notice.
“Oh, good!” he says and points towards a man in holy vestments casting a blue hued spell, “He’s still here!”
A strange scent hangs in the air around this holy man. Sweet and fruity, it reminds 2B of a tree bearing bountiful fruits, but the chill in the air makes her scales itch. She watches as the holy man stir several large pots of what looks like cream while casting that chilling magic and pouring a bowl of fruit paste into the mixtures.
“Ah, the young soldier from earlier!” the holy man greets 9S as they approach, “And who is this? Another soldier?”
“Hello again!” 9S replies and waves, “No, this is my friend 2B. I convinced her to try your...cold cream?”
“Iced cream,” he says with a chuckle.
“Iced cream. I convinced her to try some with me.”
2B doesn’t speak, but nods and eyes the priest warrily.
“No need to be so wary, young one. This treat is a favorite among even the folks of the northern Theocracy,” the holy man smiles warmly at her, “Now, what flavor would you two like?”
“Flavor?” 9S blinks for a moment, “Is that what that fruit was for?”
“Exactly, my boy. I have strawberries, caramel, elderberries, cherries, dragonfruit-...”
“Cherry!” 9S yelps, then immediately shrinks down sheepishly, “Er, cherry please.”
“Of course. And for you, miss?”
2B looks back and forth between the priest and 9S, eyes wide with confusion, “Um...I don’t know. These are all new to-”
“Caramel for her. Can you put a bit of salt in it as well? She’s not a fan of too sweet food,” 9S says, stepping in front of her a bit.
A short huff comes from 2B, but her irritation is quelled by 9S simply placing his hand on hers. She makes a mental note to snap at him later for speaking for her.
“Of course of course. It will be just a moment, now.”
9S places some gold coins into a little pan of collections sitting just in front of the priest and steps back to watch his process. With one hand he stirs the thickening mixture of milk, sugar, and respective flavorings, and with another he sprinkles in a bit of salt. He casts a basic ice spell at the base of the jug till the cream becomes so thick that he must use both hands to stir. Once satisfied with the product, the holy man uses the stirring spoon to fill two simple ceramic bowls with the different flavors requested.
“There you go, enjoy you two!”
“Thank you very much,” 9S says, taking the bowls from the priest and handing 2B hers, “Come on, let’s eat on the way back.”
2B stares at the bowl as she follows after him. The cold of this frozen cream bites into the thin scales of her hands, and the scent it gives off is unlike anything she had smelled before. It’s not entirely unpleasant, just strange to her. She dares to lick it, if only a bit, and gasps loud enough to startle 9S.
“You okay? Too cold?” he asks.
She shakes her head, “No...It’s-...” her brow furrows, “I don’t understand.”
“Huh? What don’t you get?”
“How does this golden sugar taste different from the white sugar?”
9S can’t help but laugh, “It’s caramel. Boiling the sugar with water and then letting it cool changes the way it tastes.”
“How? What kind of spell is that?”
“It’s not a spell,” he swallows a small mouthful of his reddish ice cream, “Just chemistry. Though in a way, it is kind of like magic.”
“Strange…” 2B mutters, and licks at the ice cream some more.
“Indeed,” 9S says with a small giggle, “Oh, hey 32S told me about a side entrance that puts us closer to the barracks than going through the main gate. It takes us through the woods for a bit but with the two of us we should be okay.”
“Why were you worried in the first place?”
“Well there’s wolves, bears, and demons of course.” he grumbles, “Remember, I’m not as strong as you.”
“Yes, but I’m the most dangerous thing here. Aside from whatever’s in the water.”
“Oh hush, and just follow me.”
True to his word, 9S leads her through the thick forest that sprawls along the eastern side of Vigo’s walls. A small, untended road winds through the trees but patches of vegetation grow over segments of the glorified dirt path. Without a sign of human activity along with the fading light, 9S feels safe enough near 2B to deactivate his concealing spell. He taps the jewel in his pendant twice and the air around him shimmers briefly. Little stubby horns emerge from his forehead and a thin barbed tail whips sways back and forth with his stride. He feels 2B’s eyes on him, but when he turns to meet her gaze there’s no fear or malice in her eyes. He...isn’t sure what emotion he sees in her dark eyes but it makes his chest feel warm.
9S smiles and holds up his bowl of ice cream, “Hey, 2B. Check out what I can do.”
2B tilts her head. She isn’t sure what to expect from him anymore. He’s surprised her at nearly every turn. She prepares for him to toss the bowl in the air, or spin it on the tip of his tail.
No amount of preparation could save her from the shock of watching a long, pointed tongue unfurl from his mouth and lap up the frozen treat.
Her whole body simultaneously feels frozen, and unbearably hot at the same time. Either he has no idea what he’s doing to her, or he knows very, very well. His tongue coils around the ice cream like a serpent, bending and twisting and writhing in ways that make 2B’s mind conjure all manner of sinful acts.
Resolve shattered and stone burning in her pocket, she can’t fight the words that rise in her throat like acid.
“I want that inside me.”
9S stops. Everything stops. He’s fairly certain his heart stops beating too.
Did she...say…
Heat and pressure coil in his gut and suddenly his pants feel very tight. Panic and shame mix together in a horrid slurry, tearing at his insides with such fervor that he almost doubles over. He has to get out of here. He has to find a way out right now...
“I…” 9S stammers, “I have to go take care of something.”
Chapter 13: A Minor Distraction This chapter is Rated E
2B comes to the conclusion that humans are stupid.
Well, not stupid. 9S is far too intelligent for her to consider truly stupid. Rather, he seems so bound by human expectations and conventions that he acts as if he is stupid. 2B knows full well what he’s run off to “take care of”. Anyone with a functioning mind could figure that out. What she can’t figure out is why.
They are both attracted to each other in a sexual manner, why draw out this period of tension? Why not simply get it over with? He can’t enjoy this, can he?
She leans against a tree, mulling over her own frustrations. Yes, perhaps she was a bit too blunt with him and yes perhaps she forgot to present him with the stone, but if his current behavior is anything to go by it would have lead to the same conclusion.
Something 6O told her years ago comes back into her mind, something about how humans had strange rituals and societal limitations around sexual relations. The details escape her, but even the vague idea is enough to cause her frustration. Sure her own culture has its own behavior and conventions but those existed for mated pairs, not for casual sexual encounters.
She lets out a huff and smooths back her ruffled hair. It’s foolish of her to get so worked up over this. It should have been obvious to her from the start. 9S has demonic blood in him, and incubus blood at that.
A pang of guilt hits her like an arrowhead. Yes, his incubus heritage has...unfortunate connotations to it if she remembers correctly. 6O told her stories of human women visited in the dead of night by unnaturally beautiful men, only to give birth to a monster nine months later. Of course he would feel ashamed of any sort of sexual desire. Perhaps he feared losing control of himself and hurting her in some way, not that he could.
Still, agitation crept through 2B’s gut, mingling with guilt into a nauseating slurry. A part of her wants to track 9S down and just have her way with him, a very large part. At least she still has enough sense about her to keep those kinds of thoughts down. Now if only there was something she could do about the heat coiling in her gut. She needs to distract herself, it seems like a decent idea to give 9S some space at the moment. He doesn’t need to be more overwhelmed than he already is.
The little blue stone burns in her pocket. Maybe if she had explained herself thoroughly and gone through with her original plan, things would have played out differently. Or at least 9S wouldn’t be terrified of her… She hopes she hasn’t ruined her relationship with him because of her own desires.
Ugh...she needs to clear her head.
2B stretches out her arms, takes a deep breath, prepares to transform and take to the skies. 9S can defile whatever foliage he decides to. She has much cleaner means of relieving tension like this. However, a strange scent piques her interest just enough to keep her grounded for a moment, and a moment is all it takes.
It hits her full force, hard enough to throw her off balance. She reaches out to a tree to steady herself as her whole world spins. Every thought in her head leaves her, only to be replaced by carnal thoughts.
Of course. Of course someone with his heritage would have such powerful pheromones.
Uneven breaths make her chest heave. She can’t think of anything else, not unless she focuses all of her energy on simple concentration. Her face feels hot, no...her whole body feels hot. Especially the coiling pressure in her lower abdomen. It isn’t a new feeling, but it’s the first time she’s felt it this strong and outside the safety of the Elder’s Sanctum.
It’s the first time she can act on it…
Just the thought makes her mouth go dry. She could easily overpower him, make him submit to her and-...
No. Her willpower is stronger than these base urges. She wouldn’t forgive herself if she ever brought harm to 9S. She brings her sleeve to her face which mitigates some of the smell. If she can calm herself she can get through this through sheer will alone. This is nothing compared to the days confined to the Elder’s with the other unmarried women in heat. All of those hungry women in one home… It still makes her shudder to think about sometimes. Those meditation drills were nightmarish, though useful in this situation.
Don’t focus on the tightness in the stomach. Don’t think about the twitching of the muscles. Pay no mind to the dryness of the throat, or how the mind swims with carnal intentions. Focus on the self and the connection to the living world. Each breath, each beat of the heart is deliberate and strong. Do not waver to the will of the base self; command the body as if it were a warrior.
Slowly her body begins to calm and her mind clears. A brief sense of pride fills her as she inwardly praises herself and Coatyl practices. Perhaps all that isolative training wasn’t for nothing, even after leaving her people.
That all comes crashing down once she hears the sounds.
Rapid, heavy breathing, the faint echoes of flesh against flesh. Hell, she could almost hear his heart beating.
In the back of 2B’s mind, it’s funny to her how easily her resolve shatters. All it took was some lewd sounds and she’s storming through the forest. It’s not like she’s going to hurt him or scold him. She just wants to talk, if anything to tell him he’s being stupid. They were both adults, surely they could have a conversation about this sort of thing. Though...perhaps humans didn’t have the level of education on sex and sexuality that she and her kind received.
As she trudged through the forest it became clear that 9S would be in massive danger if there were any large predators lurking nearby. Anything on the hunt for easy prey would be drawn to the scent and sounds of the distracted half-breed. He probably doesn’t hear her footsteps or the shuffling of plant life around her. What an idiot. If she were someone else, she could have easily killed him.
Following 9S’ scent and sounds is an easy task for 2B. She’s used to prey being silent and unseen aside from flickering shadows and the rustle of leaves. With all the noise he makes he might as well have laid a stonework path for her directly to him. Even so, the closer she gets, the harder it becomes for her to think of anything beyond tearing the clothes from his body and-
The sight of a shock of white hair in the brush, rocking back and forth against a tree halts her line of thought. As she approaches, more and more of the lewd scene is revealed to her. With one arm propping himself up against the tree, 9S’ other hand is obscured by his body. His arm shudders, moving in time with the rest of his body, his hips bucking into his hand every so often. A desperate growl reaches 2B’s ears and stirs something inside her. It’s similar to the feeling she gets when about to strike an unsuspecting fish, something primal and predatory. It makes her stomach churn with disgust.
She moves closer, drawn in by his overpowering scent once again. A part of her hopes that he’ll become aware of her, that he’ll turn around and reprimand her for sneaking up on him, but he remains trapped in his hedonistic fantasies. His head tilts to the side slightly and for a moment 2B thinks he’s heard her, only for him to roll his neck and dip his head back against the trunk of the tree.
Frustration over different kinds boils over. She can’t stand by any longer. She must act, and put an end to this stupidity.
“Enough of this,” 2B commands and takes a step forward. Her voice is strong, echoing off the surrounding trees.
9S whips around, his face crimson red, “T- 2B?! What are you- !!”
He scrambles to cover himself with his discarded coat as 2B strides forward. Only a yard or so and a few shrubs separate them now. 2B can feel her mind hazing over once again.
“The way you acting. The hiding, the shame. It’s ridiculous.”
“I’m- 2B you-...,” he stammers and stumbles over his words.
2B can almost hear the blood surging through his body. It makes her mouth dry. She licks her lips before taking another step closer, “Are you afraid?”
“I…”
He looks like a prey animal, eyes wide and fearful, hands grasping at anything they can hold on to. 2B feels something tighten in her chest.
“Why bother to hide yourself. It’s no secret what you were doing.”
She reaches out to him, to the hand that holds his coat over his legs. As she takes his wrist in her hand she can feel the shivers wracking his whole body, and for a moment she thinks she may have made a mistake.
Suddenly, 9S’ body goes stiff with panic, “W- STOP!” he shouts and rips his arm away from 2B. He cowers against the tree, his fingers digging into the bark as if it would tether him to the earth.
2B finds herself without words, shocked by his sudden outburst.
“You can’t just...just do that! You don’t barge in on someone when-...” 9S’ face flushes a deep red as he shouts at her. His brow furrows and he even bares his teeth at her for a split second.
She bristles at his displays of aggression, but she can’t help but think, somewhere in the back of her mind, that he’s cute.
“I’m sorry,” she says dipping her head slightly yet grinding her fangs together.
“Well-...” he can’t hide his surprise but manages to maintain his outward anger, “Good.”
“I…” though the scents still cloud her mind, her better judgement resurfaces along with just a touch of shame, “I’m still learning these human customs. Your aversion to sexuality seemed useless to me. I thought...I thought if we could...fix this problem...you might be better off.”
“Fix...Did you mean-”
“I’ll leave you to your business, then.”
Before 9S can protest, she turns on her heels and steps over the small bushes that surround the tree he leans on.
“Wait! 2B hold on!” he yells and grabs at her arm.
His strength startles 2B, who stumbles backward.
“I...2B, listen…,” he says, bowing his head, “This...kind of thing with me...It’s complicated.”
“How?”
9S sighs, “It’s hard to explain. Since I don’t have...control...over certain abilities, I’m never sure. I don’t know if this is something I’m...making you feel, or if you're...if this is real.”
“I don’t understand.” 2B thought she made her intentions clear enough. Was there something she was missing? Some human courting ritual she never learned about?
“It’s got to do with...how I am,” he groans, “My incubus blood.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“Are you aware of what that means?” He huffs, “What can I do?”
2B shakes her head, “What, does it make you dangerous?” She finds it hard to believe that someone as non threatening as he is could be a threat to her.
“Not in the way you’re thinking of. It’s...I can make people...feel things. I guess you could say I can influence their minds, but I can’t...control it very well,” his head dips low, “There have been times before where people...have gotten too close and…”
There’s worrying hesitation in his voice. He curls into himself slightly before looking up at 2B with tired eyes.
“They weren't in their right mind when...when things almost went too far. I don’t want that to happen with you.”
Ah, now she understands.
“I am aware of what I am doing,” she says, her shoulders squared proudly, “And I am aware of what I want. But…” she sighs, “If you wish to be left alone, I will leave.”
9S bites his lip and in that moment of deliberation 2B feels her gut twist in a way she had never felt before. Could she be...afraid of rejection? No, that’s silly. It must be the arousal.
“You sure?” 9S asks in a meek voice 2B nearly misses, “What you want...it’s not something I’m...making you feel?”
“Yes,” she lies.
A heavy silence passes between them. 9S stares at her, piercing near-white eyes searching hers for something she can’t place. 2B waits for him to move. She thinks it’s best to allow him to lead, at least to start. He still seems frightened by her, so she will hold herself back. How long that lasts, though, she isn’t sure.
9S reaches out to her, cupping her cheek with his free hand. His thumbs idly traces the patterns of her scales as he studies her face intently. She feels his breath, heavy against her face, just before he leans in and presses his lips against hers.
It’s a surprisingly chaste kiss at first, both of them testing the waters so to speak. He applies a little pressure which 2B matches. He savors the closeness, weaving his fingers through her hair. A low rumble echoes in her chest, almost like a purr.
“Your hair is so soft…” 9S mumbles against her lips.
Frustration with his slow progression draws another low growl from 2B. She presses her body against his, feeling his heartbeat speed up and something twitch against her thigh. He bumps against the tree he hid behind, his breath hitching slightly with tangible panic. Not wanting to scare him 2B backs off of him a bit and allows him to pull away from the tree. She draws 9S back into her by forcing his lips to part and biting gently on his lower lip.
9S shudders at the sudden addition of teeth, a tiny sound escaping him like the mewl of a kitten. It only fuels 2B’s own building desires. She cups his cheeks in her hands, her thumbs rolling over his jawline, chin, and halting over his throat. The lump in his throat bobs with each trembling breath, his blood surges through his veins. Something in the back of her mind wants it...needs it, to open. 2B presses her thumb against one large vein in his neck and wonders how the blood that pulses through it would taste.
Her wish is granted not moments later, as her sharp teeth pierce the thin skin of his lower lip. 9S whimpers a bit but a quick swipe of her tongue soothes the pain quickly. Unfortunately, the moment his blood hits her tongue it sets off a terrifying reaction within her. She rips herself away from him and stares down at a very bewildered 9S.
“2B? What- !!”
With a fierce snarl, 2B slams him back against the tree so forcefully that for a moment his vision blurs. Her mouth is on his mere seconds later, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth. His pathetic mewls and body squirming against her own urges her to show more of her strength, to make him completely and utterly helpless, unable to put up any kind of fight. She wants total submission, and something tells her 9S will be more than happy to give it to her.
9S’ hands grab onto whatever part of her they can reach; one tugs at her hair, the other fumbling with her cloak and undershirt. Meanwhile her hands tear away his shirt with such frantic motions that her claws tear into his flesh. She breaks their kiss to scrape her teeth against his neck, revealing at the feeling of his blood thundering through his veins. It nearly drives her mad. His tail thrashes like an excited cat’s in response.
Once 9S recovers enough to retaliate, he worms his hands up 2B’s shirt. She shudders at his feather light touches as he traces the outlines of her muscles and scales. His touches are so reverent, a stark comparison to the way she manhandles him. Her hands twitch, aching to rip and tear him apart. She rakes her claws down his chest and begins to tug on the hem of his pants impatiently. Dimly she registers a wetness that coats the tip of her fingers but she pays it no mind, in fact it makes them tingle, as if they want more.
His hips rut against hers, desperately seeking relief, and 2B responds to it by crushing his body against the tree with her own. One hand dives beneath the hem of his smallclothes, gripping at his pronounced hip bones and teasing just above the base of his cock. The other hand pins his head back against the tree trunk, her claws digging into his scalp, marking him further.
“M-...ooore...please…” he begs.
Relenting to his touch, 2B shuffles out of her robes, leaving only her unbuttoned shirt, pants, and boots still on. 9S’ hands immediately move to her breasts and begin massaging them.
“Wh-...” 9S mumbles as he stares down at 2B’s body.
Her chest resembles a grown woman’s, but the hard scales remind him of her inhuman nature. With a curious glint in her eyes, 2B touches his chest, her clawed fingers lingering on a nipple. 9S’ breath hitches in his chest, betraying his sensitivity, so 2B ghosts the tip of her finger over it again. She remembers something 6O told her relating to these organs that female coatyls replicate in their human forms. Something to do with feeding their young. It isn’t important to getting what she wants from 9S, so she quickly abandons that train of thought.
“Down,” 2B commands, forcing 9S to sit in the dirt beneath her. Like an obedient pet he sits there, looking up at her with an expectant and exhausted look. Smears of blood cover his face and chest, but he doesn’t appear bothered by it at all. He doesn’t even look in pain. In fact, he looks just as hungry as she does.
Unable and unwilling to draw this out any further, 2B kicks off her boots and unceremoniously removes both her pants and 9S’ smallclothes. His cock twitches lewdly in the sudden cool air of the fast approaching night, and 2B feels her stomach tighten at the sight. In a show of courage that throws her off guard, 9S wraps his arms around her waist and presses soft kisses and vicious bites to her hips. Similar to her mimic breasts, the scales between her legs are thick, almost leathery to the touch. Even with his two pointed fangs, 9S’ bites barely pierce her skin, yet she lets out a low groan of approval and holds on to the nub-like horns that jut from his forehead.
Answering her demand from earlier in the day, the offhand comment that lead to this, 9S lets his unnaturally long tongue slide across her hips and dips between her legs. She instinctively parts her legs for him and tugs his head closer, urging him onward. Like an eager kitten he laps at her folds and occasionally slides his tongue inside her, just a bit. The sudden contact makes 2B dig her claws into the side of 9S’ head, staining his white hair with streaks of crimson. Though his motions are sloppy and frantic, 2B pulls his face closer and lifts one leg up to rest on his shoulder. Each time 9S hits a particularly sensitive spot with the tip of his tongue, the claws on her toes slice open his skin. Each spasm of muscle brings her leg down his shoulder, drawing more blood along the way. At one point her balance falters, and she accidentally drags her claws down his shoulder and chest, leaving deep gashes in their wake. To regain her balance she pushes forward on his chest, forcing him back against the tree and crushing her claws deeper into his chest. He bites his bloody lip to keep back a particularly loud moan.
9S looks up at her with dark, lustful eyes that mirror 2B’s. His mouth hangs open, breaths heavy on his lips as he begs wordlessly for her touch. She hastily kneels down, straddling his hips and positioning herself just over his aching cock. His bravery returns again, this time in the form of him bucking up to her. The tip of his cock just barely touches her wet folds, but the brief taste alone isn’t nearly enough for 2B. She slams his head back against the tree, pinning him to the bark, and slams herself down onto him.
They both cry out in surprise and pain. 9S writhes beneath her, his hands scrambling for any sort of purchase on her muscular body. His tail flicks wildly back and forth before winding around her waist.
“I don’t think…,” he wheezes, his voice hoarse and raspy, “You’re supposed to go that...fast.”
“Have you done this before?” 2B asks with a hint of a growl in her throat.
“N...No,” he admits. If he weren’t streaked with blood he might have been blushing, “Have you?”
“Not with a man.”
9S pushes himself up into her, using his hands as leverage. Taking the hint, 2B places her hands underneath his rear and holds him up. For a moment she takes notice of the heavy scarring near the base of his tail and wonders how those scars could have come to be.
They let instinct take over, which seems to counteract the awkward angle of their bodies. 2B grinds down onto his cock while 9S tries to thrust up into her despite being held in her iron grip. He finally moves in earnest when 2B’s hands grip onto his shoulders. Occasionally her claws rake down his back, causing him to cry out and arch his back into her nails. Each time his cock hits the same sensitive areas his tongue did mere minutes ago, she muffles her own cries by sinking her predatory teeth into his neck. Of course, he bites at her chest and shoulders as well, but her scales protect her from the little damage he can do.
“T-...I’m-!!”
Whatever 9S was going to say is cut off by a sharp whimper. He quickly buries his face in her breasts and clings to her, his hips bucking wildly and tail tightening its grip around her waist. Feeling the same tension and heat that she assumes 9S must be feeling, 2B draws one hand down between their bodies and hastens her own orgasm by furiously rubbing at the sensitive (and frankly neglected) nub. Just as she does, she feels 9S’ cock twitch inside her once, twice, and with a drawn out moan he comes. His entire body spasms in her grip and soon loses the tension that had built up within, but she isn’t done with him yet.
She slams him down into the dirt and pins him against the tree, the back of his head smacking into the bark. Her teeth sink into his neck again, marking him as hers over and over. The hand that isn’t between her legs digs into whatever flesh it can grab and marks him there as well. 2B rides his fast softening cock with the same ferocity as she would display in a fight to the death, and when the waves of pleasure finally wash over her, she clamps her teeth around the spot where his neck and chest meet. They will all know he is hers, that she is strong and has made him hers. She hisses as those waves disperse far too quickly, even though her muscles still spasm.
As the lustful haze disperses from her mind, 2B slowly rises from the ground. Even still, a wave of dizziness threatens to topple her. It’s only through willpower that she manages to remain standing.
With a deep and contented sigh, she turns to the rising moon and stars beginning to show themselves for the night, “We should hurry back. Don’t want you to get into trouble…”
As she looks down at 9S while hastily dressing herself, her eyes widen at the sight beneath her. It’s as if he had been attacked by some animal. Hideous jagged wounds cover his body, seeping blood onto the clothes he struggles to put on. His eyes are heavy, as is his breathing, and he looks far paler than normal. He looks up at her with glassy eyes and offers a smile of all things.
“Heh...Yeah…Don’t want-...” he groans as he pulls on his pants, covering the blooming purple bruises on his thighs and hips, “Jackass to...yell…”
The quivering waver in his voice sets 2B on edge. Something is wrong with him, he sounds weak. Too weak. As she reaches her hand out to help him stand, she recoils at the sight of her own blood stained fingers. In fact, nearly the entirety of her arms and even up to her chest is caked in fast drying blood.
Oh gods...what has she done?
9S rises to his feet, takes two shaky steps forward, and collapses onto the ground in a bloody heap.
“Tw...I don’t...feel good….” he wheezes.
2B believes herself to be unflinching in the face of any trail. It was what was instilled in her through years of rigorous training and studies. But the sight of 9S, crumpled and broken by her hands sends her into a panic. Her thoughts come and go faster than she can handle, all of her field aid knowledge seems to slip from her mind the instant she begins to wrap her robe around his body. It’s a crude way to protect his wounds from grievous infection, but it will do till she can get him to someone who knows what they’re doing.
And 2B knows just the person.
Luckily, most townsfolk are smart enough to stay inside at night, so 2B only ends up scaring the daylights out of the few guards and soldiers posted for the evening patrols. One of them calls out to her, but their cries fall on deaf ears, as she has only one focus at the moment.
As soon as 2B finds it, one solid kick to the infirmary door nearly breaks it off the hinges.
“6O!” she shouts, cradling 9S’ body close to her.
A chorus of grumbles from sleeping, bedridden soldiers answers her, followed by the sound of an annoyed druid storming up to her.
“What in the world do you need at this hour-...Is that Nines?!” 6O shouts, rushing over to his shivering body, “Good gods what happened to him?! To both of you?! You’re covered in blood!!”
“He-...I-...” 2B’s brain races to come up with some sort of explanation. She doesn’t want to get 9S into trouble, so she settles on the first lie that isn’t obviously stupid, “Bear. There was a bear.”
A strange look crosses 6O’s face for a moment, “...Okay. Follow me, quickly. Let’s get him down over here.”
2B follows 6O to a section of the infirmary closed off with a few curtains, possibly for more grievous injuries to be tended to. She sets 9S onto the small bed as instructed to by 6O, who immediately begins working. She removes the robe 2B wrapped him in, followed by his shirt and pants. Her hands alight with green energy as she prepares some healing spells to soothe his pain and help speed up recovery. 2B leans in close beside her, watching every movement 9S makes with hawk-like intensity.
“Is there anything I can do?” 2B asks.
“I need space right now,” 6O responds with a low, professional tone, “Go wait in my room, I’ll talk to you when he’s stable.”
“But-”
“Now, 2B. Go get yourself cleaned up.”
She’s known 6O long enough to know that when she speaks like that, there’s no arguing with her. Dutifully she exits the infirmary and silently makes her way to 6O’s quarters. A small washbasin sits near the druid’s bed, already filled. 2B cleans the blood from her hands and arms with a small rag that sits on the edge of the basin, then scrubs at her face. She lets her bloodstained clothes soak in the tub while she paces the room like a caged animal, waiting for 6O to return with news of 9S.
Each time she glances at the tub of murky red water, her stomach churns. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… She wasn’t supposed to hurt him. Yet she lost control of herself so easily…
Maybe she was a beast...just as they said…
2B isn’t sure how long it is before 6O returns to her, but it feels like days. She immediately rushes up to the Druid, who cleans her hands of blood on a wet rag.
“Is he okay?” 2B asks.
6O sighs and tosses the rag into the basin with 2B’s clothes, “He’s lost a lot of blood, and he’s dehydrated on top of that. But Nines is tough, despite his size. He should be back on his feet in a few days.”
2B let’s put a long sigh of relief, “Oh thank the gods…”
“However,” 6O shoots a piercing look at her, “Those wounds looked nothing like a bear attack.” She turns to 2B and crosses her arms over her chest, “Want to tell me what actually happened?”
“I…” 2B never noticed how intimidating those green eyes of hers could be. There’s no use lying to her now, but…”You won’t get him in trouble, will you?”
“2B…”
She huffs at 6O’s scolding mother-like tone, “We had a...little rendezvous in the woods outside the city.”
6O’s eyes nearly bulge out of her head, “You-...Those are from sex?!”
“...Yes.” 2B says, flinching away from her.
“Good gods, 2B! If I didn’t know better I would have thought he was maimed by a demon! He could have died!”
She stays silent, eyes cast down to the stone floor. In other circumstances, she might have snapped back at 6O, but she deserves every bit of this for what she’s done to 9S.
“2B.” 6O calls, “Did you hear me?”
“Huh?”
“I said,” she repeats, “Did he ask you to stop?”
“No…”
“Idiot boy.” She mutters under her breath.
“I...I lost control of myself. I don’t know what came over me…it was like I just...I had to be...like that with him…”
Immediately, 6O’s expression softens, “Oh, 2B…”
Her pity makes 2B’s stomach flip. It’s the last thing she wants from anyone at this point.
“Look,” 6O says, sitting on the edge of her bed and motioning for 2B to do the same, “Even though he’s a bit more resilient than other humans, he’s still just as...squishy.”
“I know that. It’s just...I thought I had better self control. I didn’t mean to hurt him…”
6O wraps her arms around her dejected friend’s shoulders, “Hey, I told you he’s gonna be okay. Besides, if I know that weirdo, he probably enjoyed all of...that a little too much.”
2B lets out a breathy chuckle, “Probably.”
She drifts into her thoughts while 6O continues talking. The Druid might have her faults, but she is an expert at calming 2B down when she gets lost in her own mistakes. Gods know where all this patience came from. She idly plays with the hem of her undershirt until-
“Oh shit, I forgot to give him the rock.”
9 notes · View notes
theseventhhex · 7 years
Text
William Tyler Interview
William Tyler
‘Modern Country’ is the fourth full-length album by guitarist and composer William Tyler and his first recorded outside of his hometown of Nashville, Tennessee. While there is never a comfort zone in instrumental music, Tyler attempts to leave any perceived one behind with his latest work. ‘Modern Country’ is a collection of songs about the vanishing America that still exists on back roads, in small towns, on AM radio stations, Tyler explores more focused melodic themes rather than ethereal wanderings. With an election gone by when so many certainties and assurances have vanished, Tyler doesn’t offer optimism or pessimism but rather a calm and measured commentary in our age of anxiety… We talk to William about civil war photography, the internet and travelling…
TSH: Was your approach for ‘Modern Country’ partly defined by the contrast in your surroundings?
William: Yeah, the biggest contrast was that I’d not done an album outside of Nashville before. Just being in a different part of the country especially during winter was an interesting recontextualisation, it definitely made me want to work more outside of my hometown. Being outside of the realm of big cities was refreshing to me. We recorded in the middle of nowhere, ten miles from the closest city.
TSH: The record is also linked to where the US is today and what the country’s lost to a certain extent, as well as being an ode to and a nod to roadside attractions and abandoned industrial towns…
William: Yeah, and I think that’s basically because the record is historical. I’m very interested in history and geography. I guess this album, for me, is kind of like a eulogy for a dying rural America. I would say that the quiet and the beautiful evocations that come with being in places that are more sparsely populated or kind of left behind like abandoned buildings intrigue me very much. I don’t just look at these features as a sort of a disaster-chique - I look at these places to inspire stories and melody, and I simply do not get this from the modern world. I’m not particularly inspired by contemporary music, television, fashion or the internet - I’m way more attracted to things of an older time. As for the state of the country, it’s ironic about the election; this is what I call the revenge of rural America. Trump didn’t win a single major city, but he won the entire rural countryside with a few exceptions.
TSH: Has your perspective of this record shifted to representing something different to you now?
William: I think this record would have even more of an impact in an immediate sense if it came out this year, as opposed to last year. People are upset and angry in a political sense, but I think people are also searching for contemplative things and my music is contemplative - it doesn’t have immediate gratification. There are no lyrics, it’s quiet and expansive. Overall, I’m really encouraged by the response that I’ve got to date.
TSH: Are you continuously looking to have an engaging swing with regards to instrumentation?
William: Yeah, I mean I primarily think of myself as a composer who plays guitar, rather than a guitar player who writes instrumental music. I would like to ultimately move my music kind of into a bigger realm where people are thinking about it a little differently. On this record the guitar parts largely carry the melody, but, for sure, I’m really interested in reimagining my music for other instruments. I don’t have a set vocabulary necessarily.
TSH: Were you content that a song like ‘Sunken Garden’ evolved more so with the band getting involved, as it went from a rambling acoustic number to a French film type of feel…
William: You know, for this song I had the least amount of certainty about how to arrange it for other musicians, it just kind of fell into place. When I wrote it, I was definitely thinking of a piano piece in the realm of Debussy or Satie so the French thing kind of held throughout *laughs*... The song is a good example of how in my mind it’s a piano piece, but I wrote it on guitar. Also, I like how it’s a completely different piece of music with an ensemble. When I play it solo it gets a totally different response.
TSH: Was ‘The Great Unwind’ always going to be the album closer?
William: Yeah, I think so. It’s sort of a twilight song. It’s about the decline of the American empire and it fades real slowly, which is supposed to be like a sunset, whereas ‘Highway Anxiety’ is kind of like the beginning of the morning. As soon as we recorded and mixed it, I knew it was going to be the last song.
TSH: What do you find so remarkable about photography from the civil war?
William: Civil war photography has always been so interesting to me, especially growing up in the South. Around there, if you’re interested in that type of stuff, there’s a lot of immediate gratification. The most fascinating thing to me about photography from that era is that the medium was so new. I mean the exposure time rendered most of the photographs almost like paintings. You never saw people smiling or gesturing because they had to sit for so long. Photography was so new back then and only rich people had paintings or pictures done. However, soon photography became like the personal computer, suddenly everybody was allowed to have their picture taken. During the civil war photographers followed the army around and there were so many haunting photos of young men who probably only had one picture taken in their whole lives - a lot of them died. To me, it’s just fascinating that we can remember them with such exceptional photography.
TSH: Do you still find yourself constantly wrestling with the idea of spirituality?
William: I’m still searching. Spiritualty is an essential part of life I feel. I don’t think a human being can lead a full life without some version of spirituality, even if that means worshiping and believing in nature for example. I just think the honouring of something bigger than one’s individual self and the realisation that the self is just part of the whole of all living things is important. I struggle with where I put my faith but it’s certainly something I’m interested in pursuing. I haven’t given up on it. I’m still searching.
TSH: Is the internet and social media information overload for you?
William: It’s totally overwhelming and I think very few of us are able to not participate in it. Donald Trump would not be president if it wasn’t for reality TV and social media; he was really created by both things. I think the internet is incredible, but it’s just that so many of us use it way too much and for silly reasons. I mean it’s changed the way we consume everything from an information standpoint. Music wise, things are not allowed to grow the way they used to, but at least we haven’t gone too far backwards with the internet, even though it’s impossible to control. I feel it’s more about evolving, adapting and surviving. We just need to learn how to navigate the internet better and the main thing is to unplug from it every now and then for the sake of one’s sanity.
TSH: How imperative is travel to you?
William: Travelling is so important to me that it’s almost impossible for me prioritise which is more important: music or travel. As I get older, I’m going to try to figure out how to travel more for leisure and research, as opposed to just having a tour all the time. You get to pick up and take in a lot on the road and I’ve been lucky to tour alone and experience various places. I recently got to play in front of the largest audience I’ve ever played to doing solo music in Europe, which was so rewarding.
TSH: What’s downtime like for you?
William: When I’m back in Tennessee I spend a lot of time taking drives into the countryside. Also, I read a lot, practise guitar every day, and I try to write a little every day. I’m pretty isolated. If anything, I need some stimulation of being in a larger space for a little while, I’ve realised I’ve been kind of missing that. I feel that every artist needs a combination of isolation and stimulation to create. It’s nice to visit museums, art galleries and to get lost in film, but I feel like I need the opposite too - I need to go out where there are no bookstores, coffee houses and no traffic because clear thinking helps me write songs. The balance between both is essential.
TSH: Is the incentive of continuously changing the conversation each time a crucial requirement with your music?
William: For me, I just want to keep getting the chance to make music. For better or worse, this is what I’m going to do with the rest of my life, I just know it. It’s liberating and can be terrifying to be a musician, but I do think changing the conversation each time is important. I think with albums and projects there is a lot of room to collaborate too, that’s something I want to do. I’d like to work with film, dance and art as well. You know, I really want to try to engage people with instrumental music outside of an academic or repertory context, so I’m trying to do it in between the contexts of the alternative rock world and high art classical world, which is challenging. However, I’ll always look to mix things up in the best way possible.
William Tyler - “Highway Anxiety”
Modern Country
1 note · View note
junker-town · 7 years
Text
You can't overthrow an owner like James Dolan, but you can fight (a little)
How to combat your tyrannical sports owner.
James Dolan owns the New York Knicks and there is no telling how long he will own them. Lifelong Knick fans have already done this, but I’d like to tell you what that means in simple math. James Dolan is 61, and unless he sells the Knicks to someone else he will on average live another 23.5 years.
Let’s say this as a worst case scenario: If James Dolan lives as long as he is supposed to live, and doesn’t change much of who he is or what he does, he will own the Knicks until about the year 2040. A Knicks fan reading that probably just got the slack-shouldered, dead-eyed look men get when they receive long prison sentences. Their families in the gallery likely collapsed in each other’s arms, overwhelmed by reality.
If you happen to be a fan of a franchise with a bad owner, looking at a mortality table isn’t morbid. It’s practicing self-care, because some day, maybe before you do, the inept, insanely wealthy person owning your team will die and possibly free you. I repeat: This isn’t being mean, it’s quoting actual sentiments actual Washington fans have asked Dan Snyder through media intermediaries.
Knicks fans aren’t trying to be morbid when they think about these things. They’re simply coping with a world where sports tyranny is real and inescapable.
Until 2040 or so, barring some kind of ownership change, James Dolan will own the Knicks, and the Knicks will be a bad sports team as a result. The Knicks have won one playoff series since 2000 under Dolan's management. The league’s free agents flock to Miami, Los Angeles, and Cleveland over New York. Talent that leaves the Knicks inevitably flourishes once it leaves. Dolan’s reign may be best known for the tenure of Isiah Thomas, who was inexplicably allowed to coach and run a franchise into the ground, all while getting the company sued for sexual harassment. Dolan has somehow made Phil Jackson look mediocre, something Jackson has spent his entire post-playing career avoiding with great success.
Knicks legend Charles Oakley was thrown out of Madison Square Garden last week. When Oakley asked why, he said he was told, “You have to leave because someone ordered you to leave.” Oakley then got into a fight with security, and was thrown out and banned from the building. In response, James Dolan appeared on a local radio station and publicly accused Oakley of being an alcoholic. It got so bad that Michael Jordan and NBA commissioner Adam Silver had to step in to mediate between the two.
This is the owner of the franchise, and a 61-year-old man with every advantage in the world in terms of money, class, privilege, and resources to help him get things right. This is as good at being an owner as James Dolan will ever be.
It is not a unique situation. For years Al Davis kept the Raiders swatting at imaginary flies. Dan Snyder has tried to make Washington a good football team often to the detriment of the team, and with a business model that will one day charge Redskins fans for oxygen. Jed York, Jimmy Haslam, the DeVos family in Orlando ... they all exist, somehow, without dying of shame. Woody Johnson of the New York Jets may not even realize he owns the Jets. It’s the best explanation at this point.
This all leads to the extremely relevant and practical question: How do you survive when your beloved team has been taken over by the country’s least-fireable, least vulnerable, and meritocracy-immune people?
The Clippers eventually got rid of Donald Sterling, yes. That coup took three decades of humiliating franchise performance, public displays of racism towards his players, a TMZ leak, and the entire NBA working together to oust him. Even then, Sterling still got two billion dollars from the sale of the team.
Professional sports owners are too rich to lose. They are wealthy. They will stay that way, because the way American society works in 2017 is to keep the wealthy at a minimum threshold of wealthy while gutting the middle of the country like a fresh deer carcass for profit.
In the case of sports and probably much more, that carcass is you.
There’s no reason to not gouge the owner on your shuffle off this mortal coil, however. As long as you know this isn’t about winning, and as long as you know that you have some options, you can choose a noble death in battle against your overlords. The choices aren’t great. They are choices besides a default kind of serfdom under tyrannical rule.
I am Spartacus. You are Spartacus. We are Spartacus, and Spartacus is definitely not paying $16 for a large beer without some payback.
Disengage completely
It is an option, albeit a grim one. If you decide to abandon your team, know that it will be weird. Other hobbies will have to step up. Other sports may be an option, but know then that waiting around that corner could be another trap. Sure, I’ll just watch EPL soccer, surely their owners must be different! You should not think this, ever.
If you go full deserter, you make a statement. You take money and views and clicks out of the owner’s bucket. Empty seats in an era of television contracts don’t hold the same weight they used to, but they’re still embarrassing. Being one for your team is absolutely free, and requires even less effort than continuing to be a fan without complaint.
There’s also the dollars you don’t spend on jerseys, shirts, memorabilia, concessions, beer — oh man, all that beer money adds up, not just for you, but for owners too. Margins matter, especially if you have the kind of owner who watches the margins like a hawk.
Note: to make this kind of behavior really effective, you actually have to stop supporting the team. This is a note to Washington fans. Yes, it’s harder than you might have imagined, but you have to stop going to the games and buying overpriced gear to make this work. You have to stop, like, one thing you’re doing, and not hand Dan Snyder your money. If you hate the way he manages your team, just stop handing him money. Stop. STOPPPPP.
Make your fandom a protest
The Baghead route. Again, not entirely effective, but if you’ve already bought the ticket, the paper bag mask is ready when you are. Don’t try to bring signs in protesting ownership: they tend to get confiscated. Chanting works, though you may be asked to leave. This may be the team doing you a favor and improving your quality of life, for which you owe them a quiet thank you.
American fans don’t do this a lot in numbers because we’re too disorganized, for the most part.
However, British soccer fans have a long history of doing this at multiple levels of the sport. The results are mixed at best: Manchester United weathered a fan protest against the ownership of the Glazers with ease, while Newcastle fans did sort of prod owner Mike Ashley into spending money on the club’s roster after skimping on transfers for a while. Lower-tier team protests seem to work much better, but still: Owners don’t tend to sell teams because you ask them to, even if you do it en masse wearing color-coordinated t-shirts with anti-ownership slogans on them.
Make their life hell
There is so little you can do to accomplish this, but if you’re fond of tiny victories, then take it.
The choice for pissants determined to take just one chunk out of the dragon’s hide before getting smoked — making the owner’s life one degree more hellish than it is — requires discipline and stamina. You can’t just boo once: you have to boo, and boo, and keep on booing until the joke becomes a running joke becomes a tradition. You have to boo them about your team at the games of other, totally different teams in different sports. You have to boo them on the street and, if necessary, at a urinal at a public restroom next to you.
You have to commit to this. You can’t take anything away from the owner. The owner has more money than you will ever have, most likely. Barring some brave exception, they have built a bubble of highly paid sycophants, suckups, yes-men, consultants bland functionaries, and spineless running buddies. Their children don’t go to your schools, they don’t vacation at the same places, and they don’t do the basic functions of daily living that the rest of us do. You won’t be able to boo them at the grocery store. There is a very good chance they haven’t been to a grocery store in years. They don’t live in the same country you live in, and don’t want to, really.
The only vulnerability someone as wealthy as a sports owner has is vanity. Formally adored by default in every other space in life, it’s important to deny them that. They won’t get it from the media, especially if they’re an NFL owner. (“Mister [owner]” from the NFL universe remains the most toadying, repellent address in sports.)
You have to make them feel like a loser, in other words, because there is nowhere else they will see an exam, a test, or a challenge in their life. This is the only thing you can rob them of after they robbed you of the simple irrational diversion of fanhood. You can take the toy they bought, and turn it into a mewling, complaining chunk of expensive sorrow in their hands, one that might print money, but that will never, ever do it without spitting in their face. You can take any joy they might derive from being the boss out of their hands, and do it as often as possible.
Few communities could carry this off. But if and when the time comes, I believe in you Philadelphia. We all do.
Wait it out
It’s an option. In fact, it’s the option that involves the fewest actual changes in your behavior. Change is hard! And hard things are bad. You could avoid them and simply let the noble rot of time and tide do the work for you.
Waiting has a few natural advantages. Unlike a lot of other things in life where you might feel powerless, disenfranchised, and otherwise steamrolled by forces beyond your control, reality does catch up to bad teams. There is no rhetoric, no weird identity politics, no subverted prejudices wrapped in appeals to emotion capable of erasing basic facts about a team.
You can’t duck wins and losses, or make up records, or scream “fake news!” when your team is 1-15, or loses by 40 points to a half-empty arena every night. The Browns are bad. There is film to prove it — so much film to prove it, actually. Outright lies people will accept in almost every other area of their life, they will reject in sports.
Because dude: I don’t care what you said, we lost to Georgia Southern at home. AT HOME.
Sometimes the badness becomes so obvious that even ownership takes notice, though that’s not a guaranteed outcome. There are free riders out there, owners content to skim off TV contracts while making the bare minimum effort to contribute. Even worse, there are a lot of owners out there who bought a team with their money like you might buy new exercise equipment: first as an enthusiastic lark, and later as a thing that gathers dust in the corner while slowly rusting.
This can and does go on for decades, but let’s be cynically optimistic for a moment.
Eventually, a team might descend so far into the abyss that something has to happen, if only for a brief, glorious moment. Teams need you on the hook, one way or another, and the spreadsheet will kick in where shame fails. If they have to pretend to compete to do that, they will, one way or another. Jeffrey Loria, regarded as one of the worst owners in sports, did preside over one tantalizing World Series championship in his first year with the Marlins before robbing the city of Miami at gunpoint for a stadium. The Tampa Bay Buccaneers under the Culverhouse family did, at one point, attempt to compete in football, and made the playoffs before a long dive into the trough. The Clippers under Donald Sterling — yes, even the Clippers — built decent teams from time to time.
There’s a bottom, and eventually your team will hit it so hard even ownership hears the thud and has to do something about it.
And sometimes, just maybe, the sports fan living under the tyranny of the inept and wealthy benefits from the greatest disease of the aristocracy: Protracted familial cannibalism when the owner inevitably dies disputes erupt over large estates. In the estate sale, the team is often nothing more than another ornate lamp or painting no one really wants for anything but cash. The next owner might care enough to make a good product, or failing that at least want to sucker you in with a strong couple of seasons before falling back into the gutter of easy shared revenue and seat licenses.
A good solid family law dispute over ownership of your team might solve itself when the bad team, finally receiving its well-earned level of zero support locally, moves to a new city. They might sell to an owner desperate to bilk Las Vegas, San Antonio, or Los Angeles for a new monorail of a stadium. They might be the Cincinnati Bengals, and improve to the tune of “horrible to mediocre, but you can’t say that’s not improvement.”
Either way, the waiting fan’s outcomes are the easiest, emotionally speaking. The waiting fan is the sloth of the sports ecosystem. By not moving, the mold of indifference and pessimism grows on their fur. After a while, they begin to eat it, and maybe even get some natural camouflage and nutrition from it. They might even start to like it, after a while. When success comes, it probably tastes even better after all the fur-mold sandwiches.
If Cubs fans lived off them for over a century, anyone under the thumb of inescapable mismanagement can, too.
0 notes