#maybe that would explain why she looks like a goddamn plague victim!

[novacqnes]

don’t save her // jinx

summary: you had to believe there was still hope in saving zaun and saving jinx, but you would soon realize that she couldn’t be.

warning: angst, kidnapping

word count: 1.5k

pairing: jinx x fem reader

a/n: it’s been 3 months (or so) since i’ve written for jinx so please enjoy :)

the sound of heavy, thundering rain yanked jinx from her sleep. an intense jarring pain shot through her body when she attempted to move causing her to lose all control. 

she tried once again to no avail, soon realizing that she couldn’t. thick leather straps clung to her dewy skin, keeping her bound to a wooden chair. 

the room reeked of chemicals and thick smoke that made her head throb. the metallic smell of what seemed to be blood lingered in the decrepit room causing her to gag. jinx tried to think back but all she remembered was your beautiful face etched into her mind on the bridge.

her guard was down, she couldn’t help it, she missed you despite her adamance that she didn’t. she wanted to reach out and touch you, kiss you, and beg for things to go back to the way they were but she just stood there speechless.

she remembered your touch, it was soft. your thumb brushed along her cheek, the gesture alone soothing her but once she met your gaze she saw a completely different person, remorse looked terrible on you.

“i’m sorry.” 

she was too distracted to notice it at the time but your eyes held deep regret for reasons she couldn’t understand. you refused to look at her and she believed it to be nerves but she would soon realize it was something much worse. 

after those fateful words everything went black— no matter how hard she tried she just couldn’t remember, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

delicate footsteps echoed outside the door with each one closer than the next. she hoped it was you but the jumbled knot in her stomach told her otherwise. the door crept open and bright light rushed into the dark room and without a shadow of a doubt knew it was. 

her vision was slightly blurry but she was able to make out enough to discern your conflicted expression. 

“how are you?” 

jinx wanted to scream, she wanted to lunge at you with every fiber of her being but the restraint prevented her from doing so. she watched silently as you walked over to her, brushing a strand of blue from her face. she hated that she still missed your touch, that she craved your presence day in and day out, just as much as she hated you. 

you continued, “can i get you something? water maybe—“

“go to hell.”

her words stung but you carried on, swallowing the immense guilt that loomed over you. she was exhausted, her head hung low, dark circles weighed down her eyes and you were sure at any moment she would’ve fallen asleep.

“i know you hate me right now, but i can explain.”

silence filled the room like a deadly plague, sweeping over both you and jinx. her menacing glare gnawed at you, allowing a gut-wrenching knot to twist within your stomach. 

“i didn’t want to do this. i swear jinx— i tried talking to you and listening but you pushed me away.”

she scoffed, “always playing the goddamn victim….who’s the one tied to the fucking chair?”

the blood in her veins boiled at your words and her vision smeared with red. fiery tears brimmed your eyes making it even more difficult to see jinx’s enraged face— which you were grateful for. 

“i had no choice.”

you wanted to sound stronger, maybe even intimidate her a little but it came out as a feeble whisper that only sent your ex further over the edge. this was deeper than treachery. and any semblance of a normal relationship that she envisioned for the two of you was rapidly disintegrating before her. 

why couldn’t you have just left her alone? 

“sweetheart there’s always a choice, you just never seem to make the right ones.”

“you don’t mean that—“

“i mean every word.” she spat. 

there was a certain level of venom laced in jinx’s words that unsettled you. the sharpness of her tone, even the intensity of her glare made you feel small in comparison. it was difficult to disguise sweat pooling along the sides of your face, the fidgeting and growing anxiety seeping through your voice. 

but worst of all, she was fully aware of it. 

they were cues jinx knew all too well, details she’d once grown to love now being used against you. 

she watched as your eyes darted away refusing to meet hers. the longer the silence prevailed the more you retreated and she knew you were closing off, not just from her but all of it. 

“when you said you wanted to meet, i thought you’d finally changed. that you and i could…..”

your eyes found their way back to her and this time you held them there as if to plead with her. 

“i want that for us, but i can’t be with you if you won’t stop hurting people,” you strained, desperately holding back a sea of tears. 

slowly but surely your throat began constricting, turning your words into sickly mumbles that jinx could just barely hear. bringing you face to face with your greatest fear. 

“why did you bring me here?” 

her voice was a hollow whisper that offered you the slightest ounce of warmth. you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed it. she’d been so cold towards you these last few months that she almost felt like a stranger. 

“i love zaun— but you’re killing it,” you blurted.

jinx’s brows furrowed as a small smirk took hold of her lips. not even you could believe your pathetic excuse of a lie. heat rushed to your cheeks as she stared at you, remembering just how easy it was to make you flustered. 

“this isn’t about zaun.” 

you squeaked, “that’s not true—“

“well not entirely, you love me, but you can’t handle what i am.”

she spoke with a certain level of conviction that resonated throughout the dark room. confirmation wasn’t needed for jinx to know she was right because she could see it. 

the guilt that crept its way into your voice, the retreating and an overall inability to look at her for longer than a second. it read as a plea for help, a desperate call for her to listen once and for all but jinx was past the point of needing a savior. 

“what do you want from me, y/n?”

“i want you to stop.” 

“i can’t.”

you shook your head clasping her face in your clammy hands. you could see it now, the pink that replaced her once bright blue eyes but these were cold. the only indication of emotion was the severity of her voice and tear-stained cheeks. 

puzzled, you asked, “did he do this to you?” 

she tore her face away from your grip, her features contorting into a threatening sneer. 

“he saved me.”

an agonizing pain rang throughout your mind sending you into a spiral as jinx watched. she was already gone you could feel it. 

“there’s still time—“ 

“it’s too late for that,” she hissed.

the pain intensified with each protest but jinx had made peace with it long ago. this was who she was, she didn’t need a knight and shining armor to save her from something that she’d chosen. 

“just stay here with me—“

“let me go y/n.”

desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as jinx averted her eyes from yours. it was easier to block you out when she couldn’t see you, she didn’t want to be left with the image of what she’d indirectly caused. 

“jinx please—“ 

“do you love me?” 

“i—i do,” you sniffled, sinking to your knees so that you were closer than you’d been in almost a year. 

“then this has to stop, y/n,” she begged, her voice mirroring a careful whisper.

“you can’t save me, stop trying.” 

the reality overwhelmed you beyond belief, she was right. hot tears trailed down your cheeks falling onto jinx’s pants. she had to leave now or else she feared she never would. the sounds of your cries were like sharp knives piercing her skin, she hated the way they sounded and she hated herself for it. 

tearfully you reached over to her left hand undoing the strap. it felt like forever to both of you, you wanted to prolong the experience and keep her with you for as long as you could. with each snap of the leather, the time was coming, and dread washed over you. 

one by one her hands were free, then her feet and there was nothing restraining jinx. you wanted to believe that she’d stay but delusion could only shield you from the truth for so long. 

you watched silently as she lifted herself from the chair leaving you behind on the dirt-stained ground, not daring to move. she made her way towards the door, the lack of her presence leaving you with a massive unmistakable void. 

the turn of the door knob started you back into reality as you snapped your neck to look at her, just one last time. the light came rushing in and you saw all of her, she was so beautiful. 

she looked back at you once more, and through glassy eyes, she mumbled, “i love you.”

[raijinhasverybigpecs]

i think my main problem with the announcement of the new gods is that i really don’t feel like new gods are really gonna get me hyped about smite. it’s good to finally get requests like horus and set (side note: i can’t believe we got king arthur and merlin before these super important egyptian gods like...) but they don’t interest me like they should, it just feels more like hi-rez just putting out gods bc they have to? or something like that

hi-rez should really be putting more focus on polishing what makes smite great instead of trying to churn out more content bc there’s such a disappointing disparity between the old gods who need texture updates/remodels/rekits and the new gods that are visually stunning and have p interesting kits. isis still looks repulsive and her abilities are so basic looking while merlin is out here outdoing the goddess of magic with a single stance lmao.

[jane-the-zombie]

Freefalling || Otto & Jane

TIMING: Before mimes. PARTIES: @gravityfissure and @jane-the-zombie SUMMARY: Jane fell off a cliff. RIP. 

When she was off duty and not worried about being stabbed by a mime, Jane was a different person. White Crest, surprisingly, was more dangerous than she had anticipated. Between pieces of shit teenagers jumping in front of her car in the dark, mime stabbings, and the thick wild life… she wasn’t as bored as she was afraid she was going to be when transferred out of the city and to such a small town. Just a normal town, as they said. The rockwall had been found on a previous hike. Raising up about 40-50 feet, she was sure that getting to the top would give her the most glorious view of the ocean. Of course, the view wasn’t what had her attached to the wall, scaling it without any proper safety equipment. Falling didn’t matter. She started the climb probably fifteen minutes ago, leaving her backpack down at the bottom. She grunted quietly, pulling herself further up. Jane glanced down, checking her progress. If she fell from this height, she would die. Jane laughed, pulling herself up further, that fact just made her want to go faster, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and - Her foot slipped off it’s foothold and she was off balance. “Fuck!” Jane swore loudly, trying to correct herself. That just made it worse. Scraping her hands against the rocks, she was suddenly falling backwards and down towards a very unforgiving ground.  

He’d settled faster than he’d anticipated into the small town of White Crest, it had been pure luck and desperation really that he’d fallen into the position he had. He could live off the money he had in the bank from all the jobs he’d pulled for the Tarot but that money had its limitations and he’d rather not splash those funds just yet. So the convenience of a job that somewhat suited his alchemical talents of mixing potions (albeit mixing drinks) with a magical flare helped keep him from worrying too much. It didn’t seem as though anyone had caught on to him here, and that suited him just fine, though it didn’t stop him from wondering just how long it would be before he could go home. To see his family again and pound the streets with those familiar faces. But a quiet voice in the back of his head answered his lingering thoughts, sewing doubts into the subconscious quiet of his mind. Not until you understand. Not until you control. But control was one of those issues. No matter how hard he tried to recreate the complex emotional situation he had yet to feel that surge of power, the tangling of invisible threads that had allowed him to quite literally reverse the forces acting on a bullet meant to take his life. It was this attempt at learning control that explained why he sat staring balefully with an extended hand at a pile of rocks under the shade of the trees. “Fuck!” he grunted at another failed attempt to move them shoving to his feet and stalking to the edge of the small private clearing he utilised for his practise.

It was looking out to the ocean that he suddenly saw something strange. A woman falling, picking up speed towards the ground from a height that would maim if not kill if she hit. The wash of panic and adrenaline that overtook him was instantaneous, his body and mind syncing simultaneously. A violet shimmer washed over his eyes as his hands were thrown up palms facing the sky before curling his fingers into tight fists as though grasping and pulling the air towards him. And suddenly, the woman no longer plummeted, instead, drifting slowly down to the ground as the kinetic energy of her fall was dissipated in a shockwave nearby sending a few stones skittering down the cliff. Otto barely felt the blood trickling from his nose as he skidded down the slope towards the woman, “shit lady, are you okay?”

It was funny. She heard from victims that survived dangerous falls that time seemed to slow down before they crashed to the ground, but not like this. Jane was disoriented when it hit her. She had been falling - plummeting to her ‘death’, really - and then she was… floating? Jane didn’t register that she was safely on the ground, small stones and rocks scattering off the adjacent cliff, until she heard a voice and feet skidding across the rocks. Brow furrowed, she pushed herself up to sitting position and immediately began to check herself over for injuries, confused. She wasn’t… injured, minus the scraping on her palms. That would hurt later, but it certainly wasn’t going to kill her.  Jane realized that her heart was beating fast and she felt great - she never had a rush quite like that before. The feeling of plummeting down to the ground as it got closer and closer and closer until… well. She clearly didn’t die. She wasn’t craving brains, and she was fairly certain she wouldn’t have woken up right away either. She looked up at the man that approached and frowned at him.

“Your nose is bleeding,” Jane pointed at his nose, still slightly dazed and high from whatever the hell just happened, She wondered if she did it again, the same thing would happen. She pushed herself off the ground, her balance wobbly for a moment. Knees weak, probably with fear. Great. She may not fear death, but she wasn’t about to test her luck. Today at least. She went to grab her backpack off the ground. “I’m fine, I guess,” Jane said, looking up at the cliffside she had been trying to climb. “Did you see what happened? What was that?” She was fishing around for something in her pack now - where was it? The first-aid kit. She needed to put bandages on her hands, and rando here’s nose was gushing blood. “Are you alright?” Jane asked, finally pulling it out. “Did something hit you? Bad allergies? Come here.”

Otto knew the rules as well as the next person, but something about this had been instinctual. The shock of seeing someone plummeting to their imminent demise and instinct to act. The need to save them. It stirred lingering feelings of guilt as the memories that plagued him of the day he’d discovered these very abilities rose to the surface. But that was tempered for the time being by the mild horror of someone almost dying. Not to mention lingering underneath those cacophony of emotions was the surprise and returning frustration that he’d managed to summon these powers once more in a situation beyond his control. Was that the key? Shit. He really didn’t want powers that only thought themselves useful when shit was hitting the fan.

“What?” he questioned as he skidded to a stop on a few loose rocks not yet realising the twin streams of crimson trailing down from his nostrils. “You guess? You just fell like forty fucking feet,” he glanced at the cliff in question and then back to her as she shakily got to her feet. “I--” he gaped for a moment, the panic and shock leaving him feeling more than a little light-headed himself. “No idea, no fucking idea I guess… You just got lucky,” what else was there to say? I can do magic and saved your goddamn life and you owe me one for almost giving me a heart attack? He closed his mouth, wiping his nose with a slightly shaking hand and seeing it come away stained crimson he blinked. “Oh, shit” he muttered moving to pinch the bridge of his nose with a wince and leaning forwards slightly to stem the blood. “I’m… fine, this uh… happens when… I’m stressed. And that… was stressful.” He noticed the first aid kit she pulled out, “got any… gauze or something in there by any chance?”

“Well,” Jane considered, looking up at the cliff side, trying to gauge where she had been before she had lost her footing. “It was more like thirty. Maybe thirty-five? I still had a bit to go before I pulled myself up to the top. Ah, well, semantics.” Jane waved it off uncaringly as she brushed a piece of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. She glanced at him, examining him sharply. Gotten lucky? Lucky? “Lucky is one way of putting it,” she said, doubtfully. Something more was at work, but she wasn’t quite sure what it was. It definitely hadn’t been her that slowed herself down. Hours spent grilling her ex-fiancee on what exactly he did to her hadn’t included magic pre-zombie you’re a wizard, harry crap, and from what Jason said, after she became a zombie, none of that shit would impact her anyway. Still, she guessed she was supposed to be thankful she was saved by something, since nobody else knew that dying didn’t really mean what it meant to everyone else. “Good thing, though.” She added, lazily.

Jane held the first aid kit out to him, not wanting to touch the gauze she had with her own bloodied hands. It was funny, he seemed to be more stressed out by her fall than she was. “Here, you need to sit down,” Jane pointed to a nearby rock. “Come on, lean forward and keep pinching your nose like that. Are you sure you’re alright?” He seemed shaken, and she almost felt a little bad. Well, she hadn’t known she was going to fall off a cliff today. “What’s your name?” She asked, casually. “I’m Jane. And what are you doing out here? Hiking? It is a nice day.”

“You don’t seem very fazed by… that, like at all” he waved at the cliff more than a little perturbed by this stranger's apparent lack for care regarding their own well-being. Falling from a height like that should have scared anyone out of their might witless, but this woman seemed more than okay and Otto couldn’t help but side-eye her a little in caution. Either she was some kind of immortal or something else.

As the first aid kit was offered, Otto took a couple of pieces of gauze with his clean hand and brought it under his nose to try and stem the bleeding with a muttered thanks. He nodded mutely, maneuvering himself to sit down on the indicated spot the horizon of his vision swaying a little with the intensity of the magic he’d summoned in such a short period of time. It was exhilarating but equal measures exhausting. “Otto… Name’s Otto,” he answered after a short pause, why had he left his bag up there with his trusty bottle of booze in it? He needed a drink to steady his nerves. “Hiking wha-” the confusion lasted but a moment before he caught on, “oh, uh, yeah… hiking. You know… since the sun’s back.” though in his current jeans and t-shirt he was hardly dressed for a long ‘hike’ through the trails in the region. His eyes flickered back to the cliff once more, “what were you doing? Seems kind of like a death wish to... go up there.”

Jane carefully followed him, waiting for him to take gauze out of the kit before grabbing some herself to treat her hands. Some disinfectant and a couple bandaids and she’d be good as new. She couldn’t believe some man that came across her was bleeding more than her and she had just fallen off a cliff side. “Ah, well… Maybe I’m in shock,” she said, doubtfully. Her legs were still wobbly, doing that damn leg shaky thing people did when they were anxious or hopped of on something. Her adrenaline high was quickly wearing off, probably because she was stuck worrying about a bloody nose - actually, she was kind of worried about the bloody nose because he sort of like… She didn’t know. Not alright. “It’s fine, no one died.” She shrugged.

“Otto…” The name sparked a memory, something that someone said online, but she couldn’t quite remember at that moment. He had faltered with her hiking excuse she fed him, she she raised an eyebrow curiously. And he wasn’t dressed for it either. She raised an eyebrow, and glanced up at the cliff side. “Rock climbing.” Then again, she wasn’t dressed for hardcore rock climbing either. Most people didn’t do that shit in athletic leggings and her old Colby College zip up hoodie. “Freehand. It is dangerous. You shouldn’t try it.” Jane advised. It was okay for her to do this shit, she was the one that would live forever. She rubbed the side of her neck, over the scar. “As you can see why. People fall.” She added.

Perhaps if he wasn’t so distracted by someone nearly splattering themselves across the rocks he would’ve reacted differently and maybe been able to place the name. But as it stood, Otto had other things on his mind and he felt some slight pressure in his temples that made thinking straight harder than it usually was. “That’s not shock,” he cast his gaze back to her, bright but stern blue eyes fixed for a lingering second. He’d seen shock plenty of times before, that definitely wasn’t it. “You could’ve...”

Otto could usually get on the ball rather quickly when he was working at full capacity, but the rush of unexpected and uncontrolled magic had tapped him. Eventually pulling the bloodied gauze away he sniffed, grimacing at the ache in his nose but another touch indicated it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Small mercies. So he looked back to this woman as he announced herself a rock climber, and then in a sense that left him staring at her as if she’d grown another head. “No shit it’s dangerous,” the sarcasm was dry on his voice. Otto narrowed his eyes a fraction standing up a little as he continued to eye her dubiously, the sunlight streaming overhead told him well enough she wasn’t a vampire. So something else or she was simply willing to risk her life for a thrill. When she rubbed her neck his eyes tracked the movement and narrowed further in suspicion, while the mark was a bit obstructed by the hoodie it wasn’t difficult to miss something so distinct. You didn’t grow up in a city filled with eight-million souls and not run into lots of different supernaturals and Otto had run into a fair collection by now. “You get bit?”

“No,” Jane agreed. It wasn’t shock, and by the stern look in his eye, they both knew it. She wasnt’ about to string it along or start pretending like she was in shock now. “I think I’m just grateful I’m okay.” He couldn’t call that a lie, even if it wasn’t necessarily true. “Because you’re right. I could have died. But I didn’t. Thankfully.” She wondered what the process of becoming a zombie was like. If she would just black out and wake up later, hungry for brains. Jason had a normal enough life - normal enough to fool her for years. She supposed it would be the same thing.

Otto didn’t seem to be too pleased with her. Or maybe it was the situation. She tired explaining why she did what she did to her brother and her father - the skydiving, the bungee-jumping, all the dangerous things she signed up for or did without proper safety equipment, and they hadn’t understood. Her little sister called it a midlife crisis and left it be. She watched as he stood, and half stood herself, not sure he was ready to get up yet. “Hey now,” Jane said, cautiously. Wait, what was he doing. “What? Stop looking at me like…. That.” Jane would have called it cop eyes, but he didn’t necessarily have the demeanor of a fellow cop - though she supposed she couldn’t judge a book by a cover, as the old saying went. She frowned slightly, tracking his eyes to her neck, and she let out a sigh. She had been self concious about the stupid scar at first. IT was ugly and noticeable, but once she figured out that she wasn’t about to spend all that cash on makeup and that she could just hide it with a few fancy side braids at work she didn’t care. What was one scar vs. living forever, anyway. “Yeah,” she said finally, settling back on the rock and reaching for her large metal water bottle. She held it out to him. “Got into a fight at my job and he got me,” she said. “Here. For your hand. And face. To get the blood off.”

“Hmph,” his gaze lingered for a moment as she gave her reasoning and he wondered for a moment whether this was the truth. But he couldn’t sense any reason to say that what she said wasn’t true in some regard, she had lived, she was still here and how could anyone not be somewhat thankful for that? “Was gonna say, would be pretty strange to not be thankful for that.” But then in a town like this who could really say what normal was?

Seeing her move to stand he waved his hand a little, slightly dismissive of her coming to his aid. He appreciated it but something about all of this didn’t add up. Though the pieces began to formulate in his mind as he took the situation and incremental bits he was discovering and put them together. “Like what?” an innocuous question by all regards, but the piercing curiosity couldn’t always be tempered or helped. But there was no helping his assessment, and his eyes lingered for a moment or two. Would it be better not to ask? But then again if you never asked the question you never got the answer. As she offered the water canister he took it and washed off his hand and used a clean bit of the gauze to deal with the blood on his face, “thanks,” he said, handing it back but his eyes returned once more to the mark and then the sun that streamed down overhead. His head tilted as she confirmed what he thought the mark to be and there was a stretch of silence. “So what? You’re a werewolf or a zombie?” it had to be one or the other. The other options simply didn’t fit.

It certainly wasn’t that she wasn’t thankful for being alright, it’s just that regardless of how things had plated out, she would have been just fine. She had a few near death experiences before - and hell, she had been shot at on multiple occasions at her job. Jane was indifferent. “Quite strange,” she agreed, going back to tending to her hands. There was the bottle of disinfectant. She grabbed it, putting a little on the gauze as she began dabbing at the scrape. Ouch.

Jane glanced back up at him. “Like that,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes at him. He knew like what. Like that. What he’d just been doing. “Like you’re going to try to interrogate me,” Jane said after a moment. She had continued to dab at her hand, and had just been reaching for the small box of bandaids in the kit when he asked the money question. She looked up at him, startled by the question. There was that damn thing about werewolves again. “Are you fucking with me?” Jane asked, automatically. She certainly wasn’t in denial about what was going to happen to her - she did that song and dance long ago, 5 stages of whatever. But Jason had pleaded with her not to tell anyone. There were people that murdered people like him because they thought he shouldn’t exist. Jane thought that made sense, even if she didn’t agree with it - no one should be murdering anyone. At all. - but zombies got a bad name, considering all the media about them. Other than her ex-fiance being a lying son-of-a-bitch, he was an upstanding citizen. He even paid his taxes. She looked to Otto, before grabbing the box of bandaids to continue what she was doing, thinking carefully. “I don’t know if I should answer that,” Jane finally said, but she held up a bloody hand. Zombies didn’t bleed. “But I’m certainly human.” For now, at least.

Another look was briefly shot over his shoulder to where he’d been working, hopefully no one nicked his stuff in the interim. But he looked back to Jane after a moment while she dabbed at her hand. His eyes remained narrowed, but they eased a fraction as she seemed to grow a little defensive. Understandable, but ultimately they could dance around this in circles all day. It really didn’t mean anything to Otto whether he learned the truth or not, but ultimately having tabs on one more supernatural - if she even was one didn’t hurt. “Depends, that was a pretty hefty fall you survived. Certainly not natural by any means...” he countered evenly as he stood there his posture relaxed as he studied her reaction which in itself was telling. No sort of denial to the fact. Interesting.

“Sure, right now… But a bite like that doesn’t come with some kinda consequence…” he tilted his head to indicate her neck once more. “You ain’t a vamp, you’d be toast by now if you were so it’s one or the other…” A slight sigh through his nose sounded at the evasive response. “Look you can answer it, I’m not gonna go full Van Helsing or Leon S. Kennedy on you if you are… Plenty of people in town are… different and it’s useful to know who you can trust when those people who don’t have quite so many qualms about the issue do decide to not be so liberal and get their weapons out.”

She glanced over to where he kept looking, and finally stood back up once the bandaids were on her hands. They seemed to be tiptoeing around each other, dancing around this hidden truth that none of them were willing to admit. “I would have died,” Jane said, dryly. “I was falling head first, so take that for what it is.” Jane brushed that stray piece of hair out of her face again, folding her arms over her chest, staring at him. Consequence. She knew what her consequence was, and she was fine with it. What human didn’t want to be immortal.

Her eyes narrowed, however, when he continued. Vamps - vampires. Great. So those were things too, apparently. Or the guy was a nutjob. Either one. “You’ll forgive me for being reserved,” she said, a little stiff. She glanced back up the small slope where he had approached from in the first place, gathering her first aid kit back up,and stuffed it back in her pack now that nobody was bleeding profusely anymore. “I’m aware of the town, though I haven’t met too many other who are… Also aware of things.” She eyed him suspiciously, the ‘cop eyes’ now turned on him. “What are you really doing out here? And why do you know about…” Jane gestured vaguely to the side of her neck. “Most people leave it alone when I say I’ve gotten bit. You came from up there, right?” Jane pointed up the slope, ready to go climb up and take a look at it herself. She paused though, to glance at him. “Not… Not a werewolf.” She would give him that to make his own conclusion. It was basically as good as telling him anyhow.

Otto knew the benefit of keeping his opinions about certain things to himself. And on some topics he had a rather lengthy set of opinions and thoughts. But around strangers he tended to err on the side of caution before he started to talk too openly. Though not being straight could often lead to length and time-wasting conversations that could be better spent discussing more relevant matters. So, he braced himself and took the leap of faith he felt was required.

“Well, one of us has to say it or else where are we going to get? I don’t have all day to dance around things...” As she packed up he figured that this would be it and she would go her own way… “Most tend to prefer their privacy… There’s a decent community of supernaturals but Hunters have never been particularly forgiving.” Her own suspicious look caused Otto to stiffen a little himself. “Minding my own until someone needed saving and interrupted me...” he gestured towards the cliff as if to bolster his point. And the moment she started in the direction he’d come from he opened his mouth to protest, before he hurried up after her. “Most people like to stand on precedence and respect people’s privacy… I like to keep myself informed” and alive by proxy of knowing. “Right… Not a werewolf” which was his way of acknowledging he understood what wasn’t being said. A glance to her hands further informed him of her current state, not turned either… Good. So his brains weren’t on the plate.

“I’ve heard of Hunters,” Jane said, a frown on her face. This was the second time she was discussing hunters with someone, even if she truly didn’t understand what they were. Or she hadn’t ever met one. Well, knowingly, at least. It wasn’t smart to shoot your mouth off about killing people in front of a police detective. If you don’t have all day to dance, maybe you shouldn’t ask, was what she wanted to say, but she didn’t because she knew as well as anyone that she would have been asking questions too.

And, well, she was  going to ask questions because she was pretty sure he didn’t want her to go this way, and she was certainly going to do it anyway. “You make it sound like you’re the one that did the saving,” Jane replied back suspiciously as she got to the site and glanced around. Well, at least he wasn’t out here doing some weird cult shit with sacrificing chickens and goats or something. A strange rock circle, and some old books… Jane hummed, kneeling down to poke at them. “Keeping yourself informed is keeping yourself alive,” she reasoned, “So I suppose I can’t really blame you. What are these?” Jane glanced back at him curious if he would answer her or not. He clearly knew about werewolves and zombies and vampires, and she had to wonder if he was one himself. Though, maybe he was just some poor unfortunate human that got thrust with this shit. Then again... She looked between the old books and then back at him. “Out hiking, you said?” she asked, innocently.

“Hearing ‘bout them and experiencing them are two different matters… And if you are what you say you are, turned or not then they’ll be out for your head if they do happen to learn the truth of it.” Perhaps it was ominous or even a harsh reality, but Otto was giving her the cold hard facts of that situation. Whilst he spoke a hand raised to rub at his right forearm. “Just as a word of warning.”

Her suspicions were met with a slightly weary look, he didn’t particularly owe this woman anything to confirm that he’d saved her life though by this point it was pretty much a given. The clues were all there if you wanted to put the pieces together. “The point is, consider the impact your actions are gonna have on other people. I can’t afford the therapy needed for seeing someone’s head smashed in - zombie or not.” When they arrived at the site of his practise and seeing the look this woman gave his books, he narrowed his eyes. A sharp flick of his wrist followed, the cover flipping over and lock on its side snapping tightly shut. “My stuff,” he answered vaguely, going to pick up the books and tuck them into his backpack along with a couple of the focus crystals set out. The question earned a side-eye as he paused in his packing, “uh huh that’s what I said… Hiked out here to read.” Which technically wasn’t a lie.

“I know,” Jane said simply, looking at Otto with a matter of fact look on her face. “That’s usually why I try to keep it under wraps. You know, in case I ever run into one. Warning taken, thank you,” she said with a shrug. She wasn’t concerned about that anymore, however, because now she was more curious about Otto. He laid out the clues in front of her, and as she watched his book snap shut with a wave of his hand, and she concluded in her head. He didn’t really need to say it, just like she didn’t really need to say what she was (or what she was going to be) either.

“Your stuff,” she repeated, “That you lugged all the way out here to read.” She was amused now. Jane stood, hands on her hips as she looked him up and down. “Alright, sure. You hiked out here to read your magic books, where you saw me up there -” Jane pointed back to the cliff she had been scaling. “- did… whatever you did to stop me from smashing my head open. Is that what made your nose bleed?” she asked, curiously. How the hell did that work? How did any of that work? She considered his earlier words about how her actions would impact others, and she scoffed. “I didn’t know you were out here.” She pointed out. “If I had, I would have chosen another spot. But I’m not actively trying to die, you know. I slipped. It was an accident.”

Packing the last of his items away into his bag he side-eyed the woman again for a moment. “Yeah my stuff,” a backpack full of stuff was hardly that suspicious in the grand scheme of things “issue?” Though his eyes thinned for a moment as he shifted the bag up onto his shoulder. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that right?” No clarification was given but she’d figured it out for herself so there was no need for it.

“Magic has its consequences,” was the simplest and most concise response that summed up all the relevant answers into one. “A nosebleed is a rather mundane one.” Hearing her scoff Otto cocked his head to one side. “Yeah, well, how about next time you get some ropes?”

“It’s sort of my job to ask questions,” Jane said, a bit of a smug smile on her face. The truth, though maybe a little extreme in this case. A nosebleed was just a rather mundane consequence, was it? Jane considered asking him if he wanted to try it again, try to stop her fall. It had been fun, looking back at it. Like an extreme form of bungee jumping. Except she wasn’t quite sure he was going to go for that, considering his insistence that she bring ropes and gear the next time she went out.

“Right, ropes,” she said, and then gave a bit of a shrug. “Sure, I’ll definitely do that next time. Probably.” Jane gave him a once over, considering asking something else about magic, before she once again thought better of it. She shifted the bag on her back headed back towards the slope. She raised a hand in goodbye. “Well, have a good rest of your day with your ‘hiking’ and your ‘stuff’. Try not to not get another nose bleed next time.” She skidded down the slope haphazardly, back down towards the path.

[nunaya-business]

Hi, Let’s Talk About Some Controversial Shit Yeah?

So lately people have been telling Horikoshi Kohei to go kill himself, because they’re trying to be a shitty version of Shane Dawson exploring conspiracy theories that have no right to exist. I don’t even know where to fucking start, but since I’m not a YouTuber, but I’m a writer, I decided to ditch my phone for this one, and am currently typing this shit out on my laptop. Yes, that is how pissed I am.

A new decade and a new start to the shittiness that was 2010-2020. More and more people of the LGBTQ started coming out of the dark and trying to accept who they are to the chagrin of assholes who have no business in their lives anyway. I feel like there’s been a lot more racism here than there was from 2000-2010, or maybe that’s just me. I think it’s because people are getting more vocal with their opinions as the earth goes to shit. We are slowly killing it after all. Not only is there more racism, sexism, anti-LGBTQ pricks, and people prejudice against other religions (the prejudice against Muslims is a big one. Poor Muslims, it’ll be okay, Brookie’s on your side), but there are now people who don’t like freedom of speech, or the right to write a story, and people who are just plain pussies because they don’t wike dere wittle feewings huwt 😥. 

I could write for hours about all of those subjects. But since I’m an aspiring writer myself, I picked the right to write. What do I mean by that? I mean the right for an author of any kind to write their story, their way, without these little pussies coming around and being like, “bro can you not mention the Mongols breaking through the Great Wall of China? Yeah, because I’m from a Chinese family and I don’t want to be reminded of my ancestor’s tribulations even though it was 800 years ago. Thanks”. Let me break this shit down like I’m in debate class and my entire University grade depends on me winning this “argument”.

Writing is an art. Duh. People don’t write because they had a good life, I don’t care what anyone says. Writers write because it relieves stress, allows them to get their feelings out in a healthy way, take them away to their own little world in their own special way to escape the hell they’re living through, lets them vent the dark desires and thoughts they may have, and get their opinions out there when they feel like no one listens. Writing is a cure for depression for some people. It’s a healthy kind of drug that doesn’t make someone overdose (unless they’re like me and write’s for hours on end losing sleep and starving themselves just to write an idea down before they forget it). 

People write about what they can’t speak. My mom has this saying “say it forget it, write it regret it”, and in certain contexts that saying is a good moral to have, but that’s not always the case. My mom and I watched the movie “Her” the other day and (spoilers) at the end of the movie, the main character Theodore, who’s a writer, writes a letter to his ex-wife. He writes about how they met, how they grew up together, how they grew to be the best of friends, then lovers, then built a trust they couldn’t replace, and the sorrow he felt when the relationship started crumbling. Joaquin Phoenix did an amazing job lamenting about the character’s past, most likely because he’s been through a lot too, and the character did an astounding job putting his words to paper (or in this case email) and getting out years of stress and sadness so that he can start loving life again.

The point of me describing that scene was to show the impact writing has on some people. It’s the escape they need and sometimes the emotions they feel put into a context where they can explain it all they want without having to waste a breath.

Now, picture if you will, that you’re a writer down on your luck. You have an amazing story to tell and the audience in mind that you want to tell it to, but no one believes in you. They want to alter your story to suit a wider audience, but, you don’t give a shit about appealing to people, you’re telling a story that helped you and may help others too, no matter the money you might lose or recognition you’ll never gain. Imagine that you found a way to both appeal to a wider audience and tell that story you have in your mind’s view. It gets more popular than most media to come out of your country and helps you bring in more than enough money you need to survive. Suddenly people are falling in love with the characters you wrote in more ways than one. People are starting to call it a modern classic and then, you start getting letters from people all around the world telling you how much your writings helped them and that they’re living better lives because they were inspired or motivated by the words you oh so carefully put onto a page, with the art you spent hours, upon days, upon weeks on opening people’s eyes to what they’re capable of.

I may have put some personal shit in that last paragraph, but I was mainly talking about the subject of this... (essay?) Horikoshi Kohei. A man who never gave up because dammit, he had a story to tell and fuck anyone who doesn’t want to hear it. All that matters to real writers is that someone feels special because of the words you put together on a page. Horikoshi puts a lot of time and effort into My Hero Academia, and what does his fans do? They tell him to kill himself because he dared wordplay to get the names of some characters. Y’know it’s funny, I don’t hear a lot of Jews, trans, gay, or Polish people complain about the shit their ancestors went through 70 years ago during the Holocaust like they went through it as well, but I always hear about Korean, Chinese, and Black people (off the top of my head don’t @ me) complain about shit their ancestors went through from 70 all the way back to a thousand years ago. Not to say that everyone in those races do that. because they don’t. I’m sure a majority probably doesn’t give two flying fucks what someone writes as long as they aren’t being personally targeted or threatened. But go on Horikoshi’s Twitter once and tell me that you don’t see hundreds of his followers (mostly Asian) threatening him and criticizing his naming of his characters. If you’re Korean or Chinese and you find issue with the fact that Horikoshi named a mother fucking villain character after a place where your specific race was tortured and experimented on, decades before were even fucking thought of, please tell me why. If you feel personally attacked then you’re... (I don’t wanna use retarded because people will automatically stop reading and DM me about my word choice) doltish. That’s a fancy word for stupid by the way. Maybe if it were one of the heroes named that way then I would completely understand, but it’s not. It’s a fucking villain. 

But hey, what do I know? I’ve never been through shit. I’m just a plain, short and chubby little white girl with a big mouth that’s never been the victim of prejudice or racism. No one’s ever taken a look at me and judged me based on my ancestors or religious choices. No one’s ever made fun of my accent or the color of my skin, or the birth defect that effected my feet and slightly effected my hands. 

Oh by the way, my mom’s a closet Psychopath that wasn’t diagnosed because the rest of the family is too fucking psycho for anyone to notice her torturing animals at a young age. My dad was a Paranoid Schizophrenic with an undiagnosed Psychosis and severe PTSD (diagnosed) that grew up in a home with an abusive father and a mother that was too busy grooming her oldest son (take that how you will) to pay any attention to him. Not to mention she also killed him. It’s not like my dad’s dad was also a psychopath that purposefully killed my unborn brother and laughed when my mom miscarried It’s not like my life was at risk because there was people shooting at my house (where I lived with my grandfather) and I could hear the bullets bouncing off of the trees. It’s not like I was bullied when I was little leading to a brain injury that caused my memory to be fucked up and my speech to slur and stutter. Oh and I definitely didn’t have to start being a second mom to my brother, and an actual mom to my little cousin because my family doesn’t give a fuck how their actions effect others.

I didn’t have the worst life by all means. There’s a lot more people that I know personally that have had it way worse than I have. I’m just saying, don’t take shit so fucking personally. Grow some goddamn balls and stop telling people to go kill themselves because they named a character something you didn’t like. Stop bringing up shit from the past unless people ask about it, or you’re telling you life story. It’s 2020. It’s time to stop being pussies and act like functioning members of society. 

Oh and one last thing. Ya’ll are telling a man to kill himself while the corona virus is spreading like the plague. I think we should be more fucking worried about the fact that humanity could easily be wiped out thanks to the Chinese government silencing a scientist who know about the damn virus a year ago. If anything, we should be targeting them and Trump for being awful, not a poor mangaka that was just word playing with the names of his characters.